Attempting to wrestle psychologically with the concept of ancient time and of prehistory is a quandary that we are seldom faced with day-to-day and yet when we are, the only genuine emotion is one of intoxicating reverie and incomprehension.
An underground necropolis over 5000 years old
So it was, that on my recent holiday to Malta – the stone of an island skipped across the surface of the Med between Europe and Africa – I found myself inside possibly the most awe-inspiring man-made structure I’ve yet been fortunate enough to visit.
The Hal Saflieni Hypogeum is a subterranean necropolis, a series of levelled chambers and passages hewn out of the hill-top limestone rock of Paolo, dating back to between 3600 and 3000 BC. It was believed to have been constructed at the behest of some kind of pagan civilisation who used the chambers as a repository for the bodies of their ancestors and loved ones. It has been estimated that as many as 7000 bodies were interred there. But this was more than just an underground burial site; it appeared to have represented a spiritual epicentre for the worshipping of mortality, immortality, death and sacrifice.
Visiting the Hypogeum is itself a challenge; only 80 people are admitted per day, 10 at a time, with places selling out long in advance and the entry fee reflecting the exclusivity. These protective measures have been enforced to limit the carbon dioxide damage to the limestone, and light levels are controlled to prevent the spread of algae.
Edging your way through the narrow chambers, the notion that you are passing through a monument so old that it predates the Egyptian pyramids (surely the emblems of ancient history in the common consciousness) by around 500 years, is both mind-boggling and jarring, in a sense that the sheer weight of time embedded there acts as a magnifying lens which brings into sharp focus the profound insignificance of your own existence.
Equally astonishing is the antiquated construction techniques and their sophistry; baffling not just in that they were built at all, but rather their resilience in being conserved so well over millennia, withstanding seismic activity and a myriad conflicts throughout Malta’s turbulent history.
The ‘Main Hall’, positioned some 10 metres below ground, is perhaps the most beguiling feature. It is believed to have been used as a place for ritual sacrifices or other ‘performances’, with its carved trilithons and corbelled ceiling that were constructed as a below-ground replication of the above ground temples which now stand in a far more degraded state. Not only this, but the hall was intended to incorporate a ‘fish bowl’ effect, giving the impression of its dimensions expanding out in size from a fixed point.
The discovery of the Hypogeum in itself is also rather intriguing. In 1902, workers constructing a new set of houses stumbled upon the top level, causing irreparable damage in the process. The discovery was not made public straight away, in fact they actually attempted to cover it up before a full archaeological investigation was instigated several years later. My speculations on this are that the accidental finding must have come as a most unwelcome and unplanned hindrance for the house builders who perhaps saw it as a fatal derailing of their work project and subsequently tried to quell any rising public interest until it could be hushed up no longer.
What struck me most was in trying to comprehend the scale of the unassailable and single-minded spiritual conviction that must have had a hold on these people in compelling them forwards with the construction. To meticulously carve out such intricate niches and alcoves using tools as rudimentary as flint or antler bone, with next-to-no natural light, and to pass on this sacred task through generations and over centuries is most inspiring, and, arguably, utterly unparalleled in our 21st century western civilisation.
Compounding the mystery still further is the fact that any work attended to the Hypogeum, along with any significance attached to it, abruptly ended without explanation around the time of 2400 BC. The theories behind this – as well as the ending of all temple building across Malta – are contested; but is most commonly attributed to a plague or pestilence or invasion from external forces.
These are all viable scenarios but I can’t help but wonder whether the reality might have been a reflection of an altogether more complex shifting in the societal sands of the day. History denotes that when sufficient pressure is exerted, societies contort and subvert their natural course very drastically; shedding the skin of former traditions and allowing a whole new set of rules and convictions to apply.
Could the sudden abandoning of this prehistoric pagan religion be due to the forces of demographics; of younger generations collectively subverting from the orthodox order of things and finding their own way forward? Or, perhaps some event took place which precipitated a wholesale rejection of the old faith, under the influence of some despotic shaman or messiah-like prophet who heralded the arrival of an irresistible and alternative way of life?
In any case, shuffling through the catacombs of prehistoric man got me thinking about what types of monuments humans might reverentially pore over in awe and amazement thousands of years from now. Structures that are recognised as holding a pivotal and crucial place in our civilisation; shrines to the collective imagination and ingrained belief systems of the masses.
Perhaps, future humans will be teeming with questions as to the precise nature of these uniform and homogeneous structures, their forms so rigid and ubiquitous, the repetitive patterns of their geographical coordinates across the urban landscape. As we marvel at the mystery and intrigue of the Hal Saflieni Hypogeum and what possible significance it could have held for those ancient civilians; so too might a future race of people wonder at the symbolic meaning behind the terms ‘Tesco Express’….
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