The Code of Hammurabi is a collection of laws set down by a king who ruled Babylonia, over the land between the Tigris and Euphrates, in the early second millennium B.C. In Johns's translation it survives as a sequence of nearly three hundred numbered rulings, each a short statement of a case and the penalty that follows. The introduction explains that the laws were carved on a tall block of black diorite, topped by a carving of the king receiving his laws from the sun-god, and were recovered not in Babylonia but at Susa, where a conqueror had carried the stone away.
The body of the Code reads as a long string of conditions. Most rulings open with 'If a man' and then name an act and its result. The early sections deal with false accusation, witchcraft tested by the river ordeal, theft from temple and palace, and the receiving of stolen goods. A man who cannot prove his charge may die in place of the accused, and a judge who alters a sealed verdict is fined many times over and driven from his seat. The standard is procedural as much as moral: the law cares who can prove what.
Much of the Code governs ordinary economic life. It sets rules for hired fields and orchards, for canals and the floods a careless owner may loose on a neighbour, for loans, deposits, wages, and the price of an ox or a boat. Trade and tenancy are written out in detail because most disputes in this society were about land, grain, silver, and labor. The laws treat property carefully and assign loss to whoever caused it.
Family and rank run through the whole document. There are laws on marriage contracts, dowries, adoption, inheritance, and the standing of wives, children, and slaves. The penalties are openly unequal: an offense against a gentleman, a poor man, or a slave is priced differently, and the famous talion rulings, an eye for an eye and a limb for a limb, apply between equals while the same harm to a lesser person is paid in metal. The Code preserves a layered order and writes that order into its sentences.
What makes the Code matter is less any single law than the fact of the whole. Here a ruler tries to gather the judgments of his age into one fixed, public, written standard, binding professionals to their results and matching consequences to acts. The penalties are harsh and the world unequal, but the underlying ambition, that justice should rest on a known rule rather than on the will of the moment, is one of the oldest and most consequential ideas in the record of human government.