Stele of Hammurabi: What does it say and show?

Mesopotamia

Oct 21

Upper relief of the Code of Hammurabi stele showing Hammurabi before the sun-god Shamash. — *The top of the Code of Hammurabi stele shows the king receiving authority from Shamash, symbolizing divine law.*

Overview: a stone that speaks of justice

What happens when law takes shape in stone? The Stele of Hammurabi does exactly that. Carved around 1750 BCE and discovered at Susa in modern Iran, this black basalt monument preserves one of humanity’s earliest known legal codes. It was once set up in Babylon, then carried off centuries later as a war trophy. Today, it stands in the Louvre Museum, towering 2.25 meters high, its surface covered with almost 4,000 lines of cuneiform.

At the top, a finely carved relief scene shows King Hammurabi of Babylon standing before Shamash, the god of justice. Below that, column after column of inscribed law fills the surface, like the prototype of a public code. The monument’s design unites text and image: divine authority above, earthly justice below.

This stele isn’t just an ancient object — it’s a blueprint of how power, writing, and belief could be carved into a single statement. It answers a simple question that every civilization faces: who gives the laws, and who enforces them?

Context: Babylon’s king and his message to the world

The Stele of Hammurabi was commissioned by King Hammurabi, who ruled Babylon from about 1792 to 1750 BCE. During his reign, he united much of southern Mesopotamia, bringing city-states like Larsa and Mari under one rule. The stele celebrated that unification through a new kind of message — one carved for everyone to see.

Placed likely in a temple courtyard, it proclaimed that Hammurabi ruled by divine mandate. The laws were not just royal orders; they were presented as the will of Shamash, the god who “illumines the land.” In the relief, Shamash sits on a throne of mountains, handing Hammurabi a rod and ring — symbols of measuring and justice. The gesture tells us that law is a sacred trust, not merely human invention.

The inscription begins with a prologue where Hammurabi lists his achievements: peace, irrigation, temples, and fairness. It ends with an epilogue, invoking curses on anyone who would deface the monument. This mix of pride, politics, and piety gives the stele a voice that still feels confident today.

To read what the text actually says, see the companion article What does the Stele of Hammurabi say?

Function and Meaning: law, image, and power in one stone

Why carve laws on stone? Because permanence meant authority. The stele was both a public display and a ritual declaration — something that could be seen, touched, and sworn upon. It gathered about 282 legal clauses, arranged from civil disputes to punishments, all written in Akkadian cuneiform.

The structure itself tells a story. At the top, the image of Hammurabi and Shamash sets the stage: divine approval flows down into the realm of human law. Below, the dense text mirrors the order it describes — every line aligned, no space wasted, a visual metaphor for discipline and control. The king’s laws regulated prices, property, wages, marriage, and injury. The tone is precise: If a builder’s house collapses and kills the owner, the builder shall be put to death. Brutal by modern standards, but consistent with the idea of measured reciprocity — the logic behind the phrase “an eye for an eye.”

For Babylonians, the stele wasn’t just a record; it was a cosmic guarantee. Justice came from the gods, through the king, to the people. And the people, by reading it, were meant to trust in that order.

Definition: Cuneiform is a wedge-shaped writing system impressed into clay or stone with a reed stylus.

For how these signs were made and read, see Cuneiform tablets: how they were made.

The Artists and Materials: skill and discipline in black basalt

Who carved the stele? We don’t know their names, but their craft shows extraordinary precision. The material, diorite or black basalt, is among the hardest stones in Mesopotamia — chosen exactly for its durability and solemn appearance. The smooth polish allowed the carved figures and wedge-shaped script to catch light sharply, making the text legible even in dim temple courtyards.

Working this stone required copper or bronze tools, sand abrasion, and long polishing sessions. Every wedge of cuneiform had to be cut, not pressed, since stone could not be impressed like clay. The sculptor who rendered the relief scene achieved depth and hierarchy with minimal lines: Hammurabi’s right hand is raised in reverence, while Shamash’s horned crown radiates with carved rays. The folds of their garments create rhythm and balance, showing how even in law, Mesopotamian art still valued formal harmony.

The medium was no accident. Basalt resisted erosion and tampering. By choosing it, Hammurabi signaled that his justice was meant to last — not only for his reign, but for eternity.

For a wider look at how sacred materials shaped monuments, see Mesopotamian art and architecture.

Later History and Condition: from Susa to the Louvre

How did Babylon’s law code end up in Iran? Around 1155 BCE, the Elamite king Shutruk-Nahhunte invaded Babylon and carried the stele off to Susa as a prize. There it was buried and forgotten for over two millennia until French archaeologists uncovered it in 1901 during excavations of the Elamite capital.

Today, the stele stands in the Louvre Museum in Paris. The surface shows minor chips and scratches, and part of the text near the bottom is missing — possibly erased in antiquity to make space for a new ruler’s inscription. Otherwise, the carving is remarkably intact. The contrast between the smooth, dark stone and the crisp cuneiform still gives it a presence of authority, as if the laws might still apply.

Seeing it in person, you realize that the monument works on multiple levels: as sculpture, as inscription, and as a symbol of kingship made visible. The same logic that guided its making — order, hierarchy, divine sanction — still shapes how we read it today.

Conclusion: why it still matters

The Stele of Hammurabi is more than a museum piece; it’s a snapshot of how early societies turned ideas into institutions. It fuses art and authority into a single object that could speak across centuries. The laws inscribed on it may feel harsh, but their goal was to make justice a public act, not a hidden decree.

What makes this stele unique is not only its age or scale, but its clarity. It shows that civilization, from the start, needed both belief and visibility — words and images working together to make fairness real.

To explore the content of the code itself, visit What does the Stele of Hammurabi say?