This chapter examines the urban development of Alexandria in Late Antiquity, tracing its transformation from a Hellenistic metropolis into a vital centre of Roman and Byzantine administration, commerce and religion. It analyses architectural and archaeological evidence to explore how the city’s infrastructure evolved in response to political shifts and economic changes. Particular attention is given to Alexandria’s grid-plan layout, monumental public buildings and role as a Mediterranean trade hub. The chapter outlines key construction phases, including Ptolemaic urban planning, Roman imperial projects and late antique renovations. Excavations at Kom el-Dikka provide crucial insights into the city’s residential, commercial and academic landscapes, revealing lecture halls, baths and artisanal workshops. This study also examines the impact of religious transformation, documenting the conversion of pagan temples into Christian churches and the rise of new ecclesiastical structures. Further emphasising Alexandria’s role as a major intellectual centre, the study highlights its famous auditoria and the persistence of scholarly activity even after the decline of its classical library tradition. Despite the challenges posed by modern urban expansion, ongoing excavations continue to refine our understanding of Alexandria’s resilience and adaptability in Late Antiquity.

The human being is freely ‘self-determined’ rather than determined through some external authority (whether theological or teleological). This dichotomy conveniently expresses the usual understanding of modern political thought’s divergence from preceding tradition. By comparison, pre-modernity is teleological, anthropomorphic, realist; in a word, naïve – with its substantively rational nature, dictating essential ends to which we are subject. These received truths are past due for a re-examination. Just how naïve or dogmatic was the Greek understanding of freedom and nature? In this chapter, I argue that Plato’s view of man as naturally political is more complex and multivalent than our historical categorizations allow. Nevertheless, there is a sense in which, for him, politics does indeed depend upon a natural model. That model, however, is the Idea of the Good. And here, where Plato seems furthest from us, lies his greatest challenge to contemporary understandings of nature and freedom.

This chapter examines the architectural development of early Christian churches, focusing on their transformation from modest worship spaces into monumental basilicas and centrally planned buildings in Late Antiquity. Drawing on archaeological findings, architectural studies, historical texts and artistic analyses, it traces the evolution of church architecture from the fourth to the seventh century. It argues that early Christian churches did not develop in isolation but were heavily influenced by existing Roman architectural traditions, pointing out that the standard basilica model, with its central nave, aisles and apse, was adapted from Roman civic buildings, while centrally planned churches were inspired by imperial mausolea. The chapter also explores regional variations, such as the preference for polygonal apses in Constantinople and straight-ended churches in North Africa and the Levant, demonstrating how local traditions shaped Christian architecture. A key argument is that church architecture was not only functional but also symbolic, reinforcing Christian identity and imperial authority. The use of precious materials, elaborate mosaics and grand designs reflected the growing prestige of Christianity. The chapter also highlights the influence of emperors, particularly Constantine and Justinian, in shaping the architectural landscape of the early church, setting a precedent for later developments in Byzantine and Western medieval architecture.

This chapter examines the early Islamic period, focusing on the transformation of Iberia, North Africa, the Middle East, Central Asia and Sind following the rise of Islam. It explores how Islamic expansion reshaped these regions, highlighting both continuities with Late Antiquity and the emergence of new cultural, political and religious structures. The chapter discusses vital sources, including chronicles, hadith collections, inscriptions, coins and archaeological findings. It analyses the establishment of early Islamic cities, such as Kufa, Basra and Fustat, and the role of garrison towns in governance. Architectural evidence, including early mosques and urban structures, provides insights into Islam’s growing influence. A central argument is that Islam’s expansion was not an abrupt break from the past but a gradual transformation. Many aspects of administration, language and daily life remained unchanged, while Islam introduced new religious and political dynamics. The chapter also emphasises the role of material culture, including coins and inscriptions, in projecting Islamic identity. In this way, this study illustrates the complex interplay between continuity and change in the early Islamic world, arguing that archaeological research is essential for understanding the period’s long-term developments beyond textual sources.

This chapter explores Byzantine military architecture between 400 and 600, concentrating on the design, function and strategic significance of fortifications. It examines various defensive structures, including urban walls, military forts, civilian refuges and large-scale linear barriers. The chapter argues that fortifications were not merely passive defensive measures but played an active role in military strategy. It challenges the idea that increased fortification indicated imperial weakness, instead asserting that these defensive networks provided greater operational flexibility. Fortifications allowed armies to delay enemy advances, launch counterattacks and protect key urban centres. Additionally, the chapter highlights the evolution of fortification techniques, such as outward-projecting towers, deep ditches, reinforced gate structures and expanded urban wall circuits, demonstrating how these innovations responded to changing military threats. Ultimately, the chapter concludes that Byzantine military architecture was as much about psychological warfare as it was about physical defence. Well-designed fortifications not only deterred invasions but also reinforced imperial authority and boosted the morale of defenders, serving as both strategic and symbolic bulwarks of the empire.

This chapter examines the phenomenon of spolia in Late Antiquity, focusing on the reuse of architectural and sculptural elements in new contexts. It explores examples from Rome, Milan, Ravenna, Thessaloniki and Constantinople, analysing how materials were repurposed for practical, aesthetic and ideological purposes. The contribution differentiates between indiscriminate reuse for construction and the deliberate selection of objects for symbolic or propagandistic reasons. One major discussion centres on the Arch of Constantine (312–15 CE), which incorporates second-century reliefs from monuments dedicated to Trajan, Hadrian and Marcus Aurelius. The chapter considers whether this reuse was driven by practical necessity due to a lack of skilled artisans or intended as an ideological statement aligning Constantine with past emperors. In religious contexts, the Lateran Basilica and Old St Peter’s in Rome reused columns and marbles, transferring imperial grandeur to Christian spaces. This study also investigates the role of spolia in fortifications, with repurposed materials found in city walls, cisterns and military installations. Highlighting how this practice continued into the medieval period, when spolia became more prominent in church facades and mosques, the chapter argues that reuse in Late Antiquity was not simply a result of economic constraints but a deliberate process that shaped architectural and artistic traditions.

My introduction considers the rhetorical mechanics of Roman legal writing, and isolates three distinct discursive modes in which legal writing represents the world: the normative, the descriptive, and the constructive. I then discuss the ideological valence of law in the Roman imagination, with reference to Cicero’s description of the ideal magistrate as a “talking law.” I finally provide a plan of the work.

This chapter considers the concept of the emperor who obeys the law, which persists throughout the Principate but which emerged in the late first century CE. I first discuss the lex de imperio Vespasiani, which portrayed imperial power as the object of a senatorial grant and thus constructs Vespasian as a kind of legally empowered agent rather than an omnipotent sovereign. I then discuss an edict of the emperor Titus which reaffirmed prior imperial grants en masse, and argue that this not only made it possible for emperors to exercise more granular control over the Roman world, but also analogized Titus’ position as Vespasian’s successor to that of a son succeeding his father under the Roman law of obligations. Finally I consider how Pliny describes Trajan’s engagement with law in the Panegyricus, and how Trajan uses law as a medium for the performance of legal and political subjecthood.

This chapter examines glass production in Late Antiquity, with a particular focus on technological advancements, economic significance and regional variations. Drawing on archaeological evidence, chemical analyses, typological studies and historical texts, it traces the evolution of glass manufacturing and distribution across the Roman and Byzantine worlds. The authors argue that glass production in Late Antiquity was highly adaptable, responding to shifts in economic structures, raw material availability and technological innovations. A key factor in this development was the dominance of large-scale glass furnaces in Egypt and the Levant, which supplied raw glass to secondary workshops throughout the empire. The chapter also explores how glassmakers refined shaping and decorating techniques, incorporating blown glass, engraved patterns, gold-leaf applications and coloured blobs. In terms of function, it demonstrates that glass was used across a wide range of contexts, from everyday tableware to luxury drinking vessels, lamps and even windowpanes. Regional differences are evident, with eastern Mediterranean workshops favoring elaborate embellishments, while western traditions drew inspiration from ceramic and metal vessels. A key conclusion is that glass was not only a practical commodity but also a marker of status and innovation.

This chapter examines migration in Late Antiquity, focusing on the movement of peoples and its role in shaping the post-Roman world. It challenges traditional narratives of mass invasions, instead emphasising the complexity of migration processes and their varied effects on political, social and cultural transformations. The chapter draws on archaeological evidence, including settlement patterns, burial practices and material culture, alongside historical sources such as chronicles. It highlights key migration episodes, including the movements of the Goths, Anglo-Saxons and Slavs, analysing how their settlements and artefacts reflect patterns of mobility, integration and adaptation. The chapter also considers new methodologies, such as isotope and aDNA analysis, to refine our understanding of ancient migrations. Central is the notion that migration was not always a violent invasion but often a gradual, negotiated process. While some groups displaced populations, others integrated with existing societies. The chapter stresses that the scale and nature of migration varied and calls for an interdisciplinary approach, combining archaeology, history and scientific methods, to better assess the role of migration in the transition from the Roman world to medieval Europe.

This chapter examines the urban and architectural transformation of Carthage in Late Antiquity, focusing on how the city evolved under Roman, Vandal and Byzantine rule between the fourth and seventh centuries. It discusses Carthage’s role as a political, economic and religious hub in the Mediterranean, emphasising the continuity of its strategic and commercial significance, particularly as a centre for grain production and trade. The study details how Carthage’s harbours, warehouses and marketplaces adapted to shifting imperial priorities. It also explores urban planning, noting how the city’s grid layout, monumental basilicas and elite residences reflected both Roman traditions and late antique adaptations. Religious transformation is another central theme, with a focus on the growth of Christian architecture, including churches, martyr shrines and cemetery basilicas. The chapter reassesses the impact of Vandal rule (439–533 CE), challenging traditional narratives of decline by presenting evidence of continued economic activity and urban maintenance. Under Byzantine rule (533–698 CE), Carthage experienced renewed investment in fortifications, infrastructure and religious buildings, though signs of urban contraction emerged by the seventh century. Thus this chapter demonstrates that Carthage remained a dynamic and resilient city despite political upheavals and its eventual conquest by Islamic forces.

This chapter explores the transformation of coinage in Late Antiquity, examining its economic, political and cultural significance between the third and eighth centuries. It analyses a wide range of numismatic materials, including Roman, Byzantine and early Islamic coinage, to trace how monetary systems evolved in response to imperial policies and economic shifts. The study emphasises the transition from the traditional Roman denarius system to the solidus-based economy introduced by Constantine, in which the solidus became the dominant currency across the Byzantine world. It also examines how coinage functioned as a tool of imperial propaganda. A central argument is that changes in coin iconography reflect broader cultural and religious transformations. The adoption of Christian symbols such as the Chi-Rho and crosses on Byzantine coinage marked a shift from classical motifs to explicitly religious imagery. The chapter also highlights how early Islamic rulers adapted Byzantine coin models, gradually replacing human portraits with inscriptions emphasising monotheism. By considering regional variations, the study examines the persistence of local minting traditions and the interaction between different monetary economies. Thus, it demonstrates that coinage in Late Antiquity was more than a medium of exchange – it was a powerful instrument of ideological messaging and state control.

This chapter excavates a conception of autonomy from Olympiodorus’ (495–570) commentary on Plato’s Gorgias. For Olympiodorus, the subject of the dialogue is the ethical principles that lead to constitutional happiness, i.e., the well-being of one who exhibits a proper interior ‘constitution’, psychic arrangement or order. Such a person knows himself insofar as he identifies himself with the rational soul and rules himself accordingly. The principal interlocutors in the dialogue falter and stumble primarily because they do not know themselves, and this self-ignorance renders them heteronomic. The present essay therefore detects in Olympiodorus’ commentary an insistence on self-knowledge as the archaeological ground upon which an autonomous human life is based. By reading the pages of the Gorgias, Olympiodorus aspires to draw forth for his students a notion of freedom that is truly human. This chapter attends to Olympiodorus’ commentary with the hope of accomplishing a similar outcome.

This chapter considers the impact of Justinian’s codification on our understanding of Classical Roman law. After reading the introductory constitutions in order to understand how Justinian used the Corpus Iuris to represent himself, I discuss the tendency of constitutions contained within the Codex Justinianus to avoid explicit disagreement. Justinian is the one emperor who regularly criticizes his predecessors in the Codex, which suggests that other conflict was redacted out in the compilation process. I then use a passage of Pomponius, discussing a strange hypothetical involving a cross-dressing senator, to argue that jurists were more engaged with other literary genres (like paradoxography) than is obvious from fragments which survive in the Digest, and that the redactive tendency to treat juristic treatises as sources of law has greater distorting effects than is immediately apparent.