top of page

When Peace Was Written Down: The Hittites and the Layers of Anatolia

  • Writer: Seda
    Seda
  • Jan 20
  • 5 min read

Watercolor illustration depicting Hittite figures and a clay tablet representing the Treaty of Kadesh, with ancient Anatolian motifs and soft earth tones.

You are standing in a museum in Istanbul.


Inside a glass case, there is a small clay tablet. It is broken. Uneven. Easy to miss.


It does not look important in the way we are trained to recognize importance. No gold. No monumentality. Just clay, hardened by time.


And yet, pressed into that surface more than 3,200 years ago are the terms of the world’s first known written peace treaty.


This is the Treaty of Kadesh.


It was written in Anatolia, long before Turkish was spoken here, long before Seljuk arches or Ottoman domes, and long before most of the stories we associate with this land today.



A Land That Keeps Layers


Anatolia is a place we often understand through later histories. Empires we can still see. Structures that still stand.


But this land was keeping written records long before any of those structures existed.


Roman roads cut across earlier ruins. Byzantine mosaics rest on older foundations.


City names changed languages without changing location. The ground remembers longer than the words do.


The Hittites ruled central Anatolia roughly between 1600 and 1200 BCE. Their language, Nesili, is among the oldest written Indo-European languages we know. Modern Turkish arrived much later, beginning around the 11th century CE, more than two thousand years after the Hittite state had already risen and fallen.


There is no linguistic continuity here. There is something more durable than that.

Place.



The City That Kept Everything


The Hittite capital, Hattusa, stood near today’s Boğazkale, carved into rocky hills that were hard to attack and easy to defend.


What made Hattusa remarkable was not only its walls, but what it preserved inside them.


Thousands of clay tablets were stored there. They recorded grain rations for workers, instructions for religious festivals, border disputes, treaties, and inventories of livestock. This was a state that did not trust memory alone. What mattered had to be written, dried, and stored.


Earlier populations were not erased. The Hattians, who lived there before the Hittites, remained present through their gods, their city names, and their rituals. These were absorbed, recorded, and treated as part of the state’s own inheritance.

Governance here was not improvised. It was archived.



When Peace Became a Contract


Around 1259 BCE, after years of conflict, the Hittite king Hattusili III and the Egyptian pharaoh Ramses II reached a conclusion neither side could force by war.


They wrote peace into law.


The treaty did three things. Both sides agreed not to attack each other. They recognized each other’s borders. They promised to return fugitives. It was written in Akkadian, the diplomatic language of the time, not in Hittite or Egyptian.


This choice alone shows how formal and internationally recognized the agreement was.


Peace here was not an emotional pause between wars. It was a legal structure.


Emotional agreements fade when leaders change. Legal structures can outlast the people who create them. The Hittites understood this.



Seeing the Treaty Up Close in Istanbul


Parts of this treaty can be seen today in Istanbul, at the Istanbul Archaeological Museums.


Standing in front of these tablets changes the scale of history. What is usually taught as “the first peace treaty” becomes physical. Clay inscribed with a stylus. Wedge-shaped marks left by a scribe who understood that words, once written, could restrain future violence.


Empires collapse. Kings die. Borders shift. Clay survives.


That scribe in Hattusa was not writing only for his king. He was writing for a future he would never see. For someone standing thousands of years later, leaning closer to the glass, trying to understand why these words still matter.


Anatolia does not just keep ruins. It keeps the paperwork.



A Queen Who Signed the State


The tablets show something else as well.


Queen Puduhepa was not decorative.


Her seal appears next to her husband’s on official documents. She corresponded with foreign courts. She was a religious authority and a political one. When treaties arrived sealed by both king and queen, other states understood they were dealing with a shared center of power, not a single ruler’s whim.


This did not make Hittite society modern or equal. But it did make it stable. Authority was distributed, not fragile.



Law Focused on Repair


Hittite law avoided spectacle.


Instead of symbolic punishment, it focused on compensation. If someone’s ox was killed, a replacement ox was provided. If property was damaged, labor or goods were owed to repair it.


The goal was not revenge. It was "return to function."


Law here was a tool for stability, not performance.



A State of Many Gods


The Hittites are often called “the people of a thousand gods.”


As the empire grew, local gods were not destroyed. They were added. Each region’s deities were incorporated into the official pantheon. Religious difference was managed through inclusion, not suppression.


This pattern repeats across Anatolian history. Addition, not erasure. Integration, not replacement. The logic was already old by the time the Hittites used it.



Why This Matters When Learning Turkish


At this point, it is fair to ask why any of this matters if you are simply trying to learn Turkish.


It matters because language never floats above history. It settles into it.


When you learn Turkish in Anatolia, you are not just learning how to form sentences. You are stepping into a place that learned, very early on, how to organize power, law, and peace through words.


When you learn the word barış (peace), you are using a word that did not exist when the Hittites ruled. But you are speaking it on land where negotiated, written peace was already being practiced more than 3,200 years ago.


That continuity is not linguistic. It is spatial.



Vocabulary

  • Hititler → Hittites

  • Hattuşa → capital of the Hittite Empire

  • Barış → peace

  • Antlaşma → treaty

  • Tablet → clay writing surface

  • Kazı → archaeological excavation

  • Anadolu → Anatolia

  • Tapınak → temple

  • Anıt → monument



Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)


Q: Why do we call them “Hittites” if that is not what they called themselves?

A: The Hittites referred to their land as Hatti and their language as Nesili (the language of Neša). The term “Hittite” comes from Biblical references to the “sons of Heth” and was adopted by European scholars in the 19th century. The name remained in academic use despite reflecting an outsider’s perspective.


Q: Is the Treaty of Kadesh really the first peace treaty in history?

A: It is the earliest known written peace treaty that has survived in multiple copies. Earlier agreements may have existed, but none are documented as clearly or preserved as well.


Q: Were the Hittites connected to modern Turkish people linguistically?

A: No. The Hittite language was Indo-European. Turkish is a Turkic language that arrived in Anatolia much later. The connection is geographical, not linguistic.


Q: Can parts of Hittite history really be seen in Istanbul today?

A: Yes. Clay tablets from Hattusa, including copies of the Treaty of Kadesh, are displayed at the Istanbul Archaeological Museums.



Looking at Layers

The next time you hear the word Anadolu in Turkish, pause for a moment.


This is not just a geographic term. It names a place that has been speaking, recording, and governing longer than most regions on earth.


The Hittites are gone. Their language is silent. But the ground they built on is still here, layered, patient, and holding records we are only beginning to fully read.


When you learn Turkish on this land, you are not starting from zero. You are adding one more layer.

 
 
 

Comments


bottom of page