JThe question of whether the history of things is more significant than the history of words often ends up in a discussion of objects and monuments. The significance of the Scottish stones at Stonehenge or the Babylonian Cyrus Cylinder to our ancestors plays a role in determining prehistory—the era before recorded history began. Perhaps the greatest challenge to a narrative based solely on objects is posed by the light-colored limestone structures that climb the hill of Göbekli Tepe, a 45-foot-high rise on a rolling plateau in southeastern Turkey.
Three decades ago, the late German archaeologist Klaus Schmidt made a discovery in the foothills of the Taurus Mountains that rewrote the timeline of civilization. Schmidt’s team found enormous, 20-ton T-shaped pillars of quarry stone decorated with stylized depictions of humans. The imposing structures were adorned with carvings of wild animals. The rings of these megaliths were 11,000 years old, more than 6,000 years older than the pyramids, when the region was still inhabited by hunter-gatherers. Schmidt believed he had found the world’s oldest temple. But how could hunter-gatherers have built this vast complex? Schmidt argued that Göbekli Tepe – its name means “potbellied hill” – justified a new theory of civilization.
Scientists have long believed that people had the time, organization and resources to build temples and maintain complex social structures only after they learned to farm and live in sedentary communities. The transition from food gathering to agriculture has been attributed to environmental changes, such as gradual warming at the end of the Ice Age. But Schmidt said that was wrong. He argued that the effort needed to build Göbekli Tepe laid the foundation for later complex societies. The modern world, he heretically claimed, began not with agriculture but with religious practice. Schmidt died in 2014, but excavations continued – uncovering evidence that required an even more nuanced interpretation of prehistory.
The new excavations have revealed evidence of houses and year-round habitation. This suggests that Göbekli Tepe was not an isolated temple visited on special religious occasions, but rather a thriving village with large, special buildings at its center. Remarkably, the site was constructed by prehistoric architects, builders and engineers. Lee Clare, Schmidt’s successor, argues that Göbekli Tepe may have been a response by hunter-gatherers trying to hold on to their disappearing way of life while other communities were transitioning to a farming way of life.
Even more mysterious is why the site disappeared from view. It was not struck by a natural disaster such as a flood or earthquake. Instead, Göbekli Tepe was deliberately buried and covered up, possibly by its builders who thought it had outlived its purpose. Or a civilization arose that found it an insult. Although archaeologists know what its inhabitants ate and what animals they hunted, they can only guess what they thought or what happened to them.
Today, the site is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and a global tourist draw. More “mini” Göbekli Tepe mounds are being excavated in Turkey’s Harran Plains. The rich archive of things that are slowly being uncovered shows that prehistory is far more than just a pedestal for modernity. But discoveries like Göbekli Tepe require the courage to constantly challenge the narratives we currently produce.
