A graph superimposes the growth–decline curves of major Runner Empires, from 3000 to 600 BCE. The Egyptian Old, Middle,and New Kingdoms dominate this period. Egypt’s sheltered location ensured stability, then suffocation. Mesopotamian states remained small, forming a mutual fighting community, until the brief rise of Akkad and Assyria. The Xia–Shang–Zhou empire took off only after 1500 BCE, and in a surprisingly northern location. It’s as if state formation in the west had begun on the Danube instead of Nile. Egypt came closest to the oikos model (state as the ruler’s household), with 90% of produce flown in and out of state storage. It might have been 83% in Sumerian city-states. This aspect of human self-domestication may have begun to retreat with the Hittite empire, and even Assyria. While the Hyksos surprised Egypt with chariots as early as around 1650 BCE, the Assyrians complemented chariots with cavalry only by 665 BCE. The era of Rider Empires was approaching.

This chapter explains that the reasonable person was not the first anthropomorphised legal standard. The idea of model characters can be traced back to the oldest documents of humanity. The chapter introduces three of these ancient ancestors of the reasonable person: the silent person of Egypt (geru maa), the earnest person of Greece (ho spoudaios), and the male head of a family in ancient Rome (paterfamilias). There are many other ancestors of the reasonable person, and at least implicit anthropomorphised standards of behaviour could probably be found in any society at any time. The three concepts here are presented only as examples, and because they form part of one Mediterranean context in which the ancient Egyptians probably influenced the ancient Greeks, who in turn influenced the Romans, whose influence on contemporary European law and on the systems derived from it can still be felt. Each of the three figures introduced in this chapter deserves its own biography and the analysis offered here remains fragmented. Nonetheless, the selected aspects of the lives of the geru maa, of the spoudaios, and of paterfamilias foreshadow many of the questions, tensions, and challenges with which the common law’s reasonable person still struggles today.

Ancient Egyptian ideas about sex changed over time in close relation to changes in gender power relations. The comprehensive overview of textual and iconographic sources in this chapter indicates that discourses on sex did exist. Desirable bodies were either depicted or described in poetry. Pleasures could be sought in different sexscapes such as e.g., houses, gardens, streets, festivals, marshes and bathhouses. Festival sex had long history and was connected to the celebration of the return of the wondering Sun Eye goddess. She was pacified through consumption of alcohol and sexual intercourse. Sex-work is also attested, but its closer regulation through taxation does not predate Roman occupation. This is also the period when classical authors such as Strabo, formed the orientalist trope of sacred prostitution in Egyptian temples. However, contrary to this trope, sex is rarely depicted in state sponsored art and is found in media such as ostraca or rock art. Similarly, same-sex intercourse is attested throughout Egyptian history but rarely depicted. Passivity in intercourse between men was looked down upon. It even served as a metaphor to designate enemies of Egypt. Sexual violence was punishable but easily confused with adultery, putting women in precarious positions.

Chapter 26 discusses the role of translation in the years before the birth of Christ in Ancient Egypt, the Near and Middle East, Ancient Greece and Rome, and China. Despite the difficulties of finding texts in translated form stemming from a time when writing was generally limited to stone inscriptions and papyri, many of which have been lost, discoveries made since the 1900s in areas such as Egypt or the Iranian plateau have demonstrated that the practice of translation was not unknown. They reflect that the aims of translating into foreign languages were in no way different from the reasons why translation has been used in modern times: conquest, trade, dissemination of religious beliefs, and literary appropriation or adaptation.

Chapter 2 looks at soldier tourism. This chapter argues that perhaps no other British or Dominion soldiers during the war embodied the dual identity of soldier-tourist more than those who fought in the Middle East and Macedonia. Soldiers were keen to tour the sites of Old and New Testament Christianity, ancient Egypt, Islam, and the non-western world’s cosmopolitan, multicultural cities, such as Alexandria, Jerusalem, Baghdad, and Salonika. Yet, almost to a man, they were left disappointed by what they saw. Utilising historian Gabriel Liulevicius’ idea of the ‘imperial mindscape’, which he used to explain how German soldiers encountered and interacted with Eastern Europe on the Eastern Front, this chapter argues that British and Dominion soldiers in the Middle East and Macedonia did much the same. British and Dominion soldiers offered a ‘prescription’, a fix, for the problems of poor civil infrastructure, shoddy architecture, filth and squalor, and immoral commercial practices that seemed to them to dominate everywhere from Alexandria to Salonika; that fix was some form of British imperial rule or influence. As this chapter demonstrates, what soldiers saw while touring the Middle East and Macedonia directly contributed to how they found meaning in being away from the Western Front.