I stood on the outskirts of ancient Samarkand in Uzbekistan, trying to figure out a path to the citadel. Back in the 7th century AD, this was one of the greatest trade cities on what is now known as the Silk Road, a grand network of trade routes connecting Asia to Europe. I would have entered through an opulent gate, flanked by guards and surrounded by a thronging mass of visitors and traders from all across Asia. The air would have rung with voices and smelled like smoke and spices. But when I visited, it was quiet.
From my vantage point at the top of a hill, I could see a landscape of ridges and valleys covered in a thick layer of bright green grass and studded with rocky outcrops. Kids played soccer in a dell nearby, and a small herd of brown sheep wandered downslope as it began to drizzle. The place looked like an oddly lumpy park surrounded by the bustling, modern city of Samarkand. At last, I spotted a faint trail leading to the distant outline of a flat-topped mound – the citadel – that once held the city’s palace complex. I was there to research my next book, and found myself thinking about why cities of nomads were hotbeds of technological innovation. What could Silicon Valley learn from Samarkand?
Historian at Yale University, author of The Silk Road: A new history, explains that people who traveled the Silk Road over a millennium ago called it “the road to Samarkand”. At that time, the ridges where sheep wandered would have been ramparts, the dells would have been mansions and temples, and the Siab river would have rushed through the centre of the city, flanked by homes and shops. Outside its walls, a vast roadside inn known as a caravanserai would have catered to merchants who traveled here from China, India, Afghanistan, Iran and beyond.
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What was truly revolutionary about this city was its culture. For a few centuries, Samarkand was ruled by the Sogdians, a diasporic people who hailed originally from what is now Iran. As they settled in cities across Central Asia, they took on traditions borrowed from China and the West. In a Sogdian city, you might see a Zoroastrian temple next to a Buddhist one, and scientific manuscripts and technology from the Arab world were traded in the same marketplaces where you might find Chinese silks and Turkish spices.
I passed by a deep depression in the ground surrounded by eroded walls. This unremarkable spot was where archaeologists in the 1960s had uncovered a merchant’s parlor where guests partied and made deals. Its walls were covered in opulent frescoes (now on display at a nearby museum), one of which dramatises a meeting between Samarkand’s king and delegations from China, Korea, Turkey, India and more, each bearing gifts from their homelands. Envoys in their culture’s regalia offer silkworms in their cocoons, painted elephants, exotic birds, carved masks, sumptuous necklaces, fine horses and well-crafted weapons. The Sogdians were a diverse society for both practical and aesthetic reasons. Their ethos might have been “the more the merrier”. And the richer, of course.
Though we have these artistic representations, little remains of the Sogdian palace on the citadel mound. It was obliterated over the centuries by multiple regimes who occupied it after the Sogdians fled the Abbasid Caliphate in the 8th century. As I approached its stippled slope, however, it was easy to find bits of masonry and pottery that had been dislodged by rain and erosion and scattered across the grass. There have been only a few modern archaeological excavations in ancient Samarkand, and the place has many secrets left to reveal.
Still, this city of traders has left us with one, clear lesson about how trade enriched people’s lives along the Silk Road. The people of Samarkand certainly welcomed the flood of trade goods that came through their gates, including novel weapons, chemicals and medicines. But historian , author of Zoroastrianism: An introduction, points out to me that Sogdian cities grew rich because they opened their walls and homes to new people. The greatest asset to Samarkand wouldn’t have been a collection of swords, but instead a trained sword-maker from abroad. One could say the same about jewelers, paper-makers, horse trainers, philosophers and artists.
Wealth on the Silk Road came from people and their knowledge. The Sogdians became famous for their finely trained artisans, who came to town not only to sell objects, but to set up shops where they made fine knives, gorgeous ceramics and accurate maps, training the next generation in the process. They shared expertise and that made the whole world more prosperous.
As companies replace humans with automation, it is easy to forget that technology advances with humanity, rather than the other way around. But humans have always been more valuable than things. As we come into contact with new groups and ideas, we make incredible discoveries. We build on each other’s wisdom and innovate together. Put somewhat more whimsically, the Silk Road wasn’t ever just about silk. It was about the people we met along the way.
