History is often written by the victors, and few civilizations have been so thoroughly vilified by their conquerors as Carthage. For the Romans, their great rival in the Mediterranean was not just a military and economic threat, but a morally corrupt one. The most horrifying accusation, repeated by Greek and Roman writers with a mix of fascination and disgust, was that the Carthaginians and their Phoenician ancestors systematically sacrificed their own children, burning them alive in offering to their gods.

For centuries, this claim was dismissed by many as mere propaganda—a convenient justification for Rome’s brutal eradication of the Punic city. But in 1921, beneath the soil of modern Tunis, archaeologists unearthed a site that would ignite the debate. They found what the Bible called a “Tophet”: a sacred enclosure filled with thousands of urns containing the cremated ashes of the very young. Was this the smoking gun, the physical proof of a monstrous ritual, or was it something else entirely?

The Accusation and the Ancient Texts

The idea of child sacrifice in the Levant was not new. The Old Testament repeatedly condemns the practice of “passing a child through the fire to Moloch”, a ritual associated with a place of burning called the Topheth in the Valley of Hinnom, outside Jerusalem. While “Moloch” might be a divine name or a term for the sacrifice itself, the connection was clear: this was a forbidden and abhorrent act.

Later classical authors sharpened the accusation, aiming it squarely at Carthage. The Greek historian Diodorus Siculus, writing in the 1st century BCE, described a dramatic scene during a siege of Carthage. He claimed the citizens, believing their misfortunes were due to divine anger, sought to atone by sacrificing 200 children from noble families. He paints a terrifying picture:

“There was in their city a bronze image of Cronus, extending its hands, palms up and sloping toward the ground, so that each of the children when placed thereon rolled down and fell into a sort of gaping pit filled with fire.”

Authors like Plutarch and the early Christian writer Tertullian echoed these accounts. They portrayed the Punic god Baal Hammon (whom they identified with the Greek Cronus and Roman Saturn) as an insatiable deity demanding the ultimate price from his followers. The problem, however, is that none of these accounts were from Carthaginian sources. They were written by outsiders, rivals, and enemies. The voice of Carthage itself was silenced when the Romans leveled the city in 146 BCE.

Unearthing the Sanctuaries of Tanit and Baal Hammon

The discovery of the Tophet at Carthage, located in the Salambo neighborhood, changed the conversation from a purely literary debate to an archaeological one. What archaeologists found was staggering. Over a period spanning nearly 600 years, from roughly 750 BCE to the city’s fall, an estimated 20,000 urns were deposited in the sanctuary.

Each urn contained the charred bones of one or more infants and, occasionally, small animals like lambs or kids. The urns were buried, and over many were placed carved limestone markers called stelae. These stelae are crucial pieces of evidence. Many are inscribed with dedications to the chief deities of Carthage: the goddess Tanit and her consort, Baal Hammon.

A typical inscription might read: “To our lady, to Tanit, face of Baal, and to our lord, to Baal Hammon, that which was vowed. Because he heard his voice and blessed him.”

Nor was Carthage unique. Similar sanctuaries, also called Tophets by modern archaeologists, have been found across the Punic world—from Sicily (Motya) to Sardinia (Sulcis, Tharros) and North Africa. This was a widespread, long-standing Punic tradition.

The Case for Ritual Sacrifice

For many scholars, the evidence from the Tophet points directly to the horrifying truth of the ancient accounts. The arguments for sacrifice are compelling:

• The Votive Inscriptions: The language on the stelae sounds transactional. A person makes a vow (ndr) to the gods, and in return for a blessing—a safe voyage, a successful business deal, a military victory—they fulfill that vow. The offering, proponents argue, was their child.

li>Animal Parallels: The presence of animal remains, sometimes mixed with human ones or buried as substitutes, reinforces the idea of a sacrificial rite. In this interpretation, a lamb could serve as a “lesser” offering when a child was not available or as a stand-in.

• Literary Corroboration: While biased, the classical and biblical sources are numerous. The sheer consistency of the accusation from different cultures over centuries suggests it may be based on a kernel of truth. Diodorus’s account of sacrifice in times of crisis aligns perfectly with the idea of a desperate populace making the ultimate appeal to their gods.

An Alternative Interpretation: A Sacred Cemetery

In recent decades, a powerful counter-argument has emerged, seeking to clear Carthage’s name. This perspective holds that the Tophet was not a place of slaughter, but a sacred burial ground for the most vulnerable members of society.

• High Infant Mortality: In the ancient world, infant and child mortality was devastatingly high. It’s estimated that up to 30-50% of children died before the age of five. Many cultures had separate burial practices for infants, who were not yet considered full persons. The Tophet, therefore, could be a dedicated, consecrated cemetery for stillborns, premature babies, and infants who died of natural causes.
• Forensic Evidence: Detailed analysis of the cremated remains by scholars like Jeffrey Schwartz and his team suggests that a large proportion (perhaps up to half in some studies) of the remains are perinatal—meaning fetuses and newborns who died at or shortly after birth. This demographic profile aligns better with natural mortality than with a ritualistic selection of healthy children.
• Reinterpreting the Inscriptions: The “vows” on the stelae could be interpreted differently. A desperate parent might vow a sacred burial in the Tophet if the gods would only see their child through a difficult birth. If the child died, the burial and stele fulfilled the vow, accompanied by a prayer of gratitude that the mother survived or for future fertility. The burial itself was the offering.
• The Propaganda Angle: Proponents of this view stress the extreme bias of the Roman and Greek sources. Accusing an enemy of killing their own children is a powerful tool of dehumanization, making their conquest seem not just strategic, but morally necessary.

A Verdict Shrouded in Ash and Time

So, where does the truth lie? The debate remains one of the most contentious in ancient history, and the answer is likely more complex than a simple “yes” or “no.”

It is possible that both interpretations hold some truth. The Tophet may have primarily served as a cemetery for infants lost to natural causes. The sanctified burial in the presence of Tanit and Baal Hammon would have been a great comfort and religious duty. However, in times of extreme crisis—famine, plague, or a devastating siege—it is conceivable that the Punic people resorted to actual human sacrifice, just as Diodorus described. This could explain the consistency of the literary accounts without requiring us to believe it was a common, everyday practice.

What is certain is that the Tophet was a deeply sacred and important place for the Phoenicians and Carthaginians for centuries. It was a nexus of community grief, hope, and profound faith. Whether it was a place of terrible sacrifice or of loving remembrance, it represents the raw, emotional heart of a civilization whose own stories were largely turned to ash.