Row upon row of stones carved with the precision of modern engineering, each carefully weighted and balanced, smoothed and polished, the colours glowing, the striations bold against the rounded forms: axe-heads made by hand over 5000 years ago using rocks as tools. What can we make today that even approaches this profound simplicity? The British Museum's Stonehenge exhibition shows that we are a people in terminal decline.
Out of the seed of the axe-heads emerged the great root, Stonehenge, its huge blocks apparently dragged along the ground from Wales to Wiltshire by groups of lads with ropes. It became an important religious centre for generations, but eventually succumbed to two threats: farming and gold.
Hunter-gatherers and farmers initially seem to have got on well after the latter migrated to Britain from the continent. There was a great feast at Stonehenge where farmers shared their beef steaks with the hunters, who brought freshly killed venison.
The beginning of the end of this multicultural harmony was the arrival of metalworkers into Britain. These magicians could imbue portable objects with great mystical potency, encouraging worship to move into a more private sphere, challenging the communal importance of Stonehenge. Metal, especially gold, allowed people to drastically differentiate themselves from each other with huge and exquisite jewellery, like the flamboyant torcs, bracelets and bangles shown in the exhibition. Tension mounted.
Then came war, apparently uncommon in the earlier days of Stonehenge. Metal weapons and increasingly aggressive claims to territory marked a new age for Britain, now more oriented towards the coast and militarily important sites. As people armed and fortified themselves, the days of Stonehenge drew to a close.
The unfolding tragedy called human history continues to this day. The hunter-gatherers wiped out the aurochs which once roamed Britain. The farmers began the destruction of the forests. The metalworkers developed better ways for us to kill one another. The scientists invented the atom bomb.
However, monuments like Stonehenge, the inverted oak tree of Seahenge and the polished stone axe-heads are mooring points against this tide of decay, which might otherwise sweep us away into misery. Any document of civilisation is also one of barbarism. But these drafts towards human completeness show that there is also the potential for greatness in us, however conditional, remote as it may seem today as we perch, corrupt, atop our ruin.