Unraveling the mysteries of human origins is a captivating journey, but one question stands out as both fascinating and contentious: Who were the first humans to create tools or art, and how can we be certain? This is the core of Our Human Story, our monthly newsletter exploring groundbreaking archaeological discoveries. Sign up here to join the adventure: https://www.newscientist.com/sign-up/our-human-story/.
When it comes to human evolution, headlines love to flaunt terms like “oldest,” “earliest,” and “first.” I’ve penned countless articles using these very words, not just to grab attention (though they do), but because they signify something profound: shifting our understanding of when and how key behaviors emerged. After all, knowing the sequence of events is essential to unraveling why they happened.
Take rock art, for instance. Until recently, we believed all such creations were no older than 40,000 years, meaning only Homo sapiens could have made them. But here’s where it gets controversial: new evidence suggests Neanderthals might have been artists too, with some prehistoric art now dated far earlier.
The past month has been a treasure trove of “earliest” and “first” discoveries, prompting me to reflect on how we interpret these findings. How confident can we truly be about the timeline of human innovation?
Let’s dive into a recent example. Archaeologists in southern Greece unearthed two wooden tools—one resembling a digging stick, the other more enigmatic—dated to around 430,000 years ago. These are now the oldest known wooden tools, surpassing previous record-holders like the 400,000-year-old Clacton Spear from the UK and the Schöningen spears in Germany, whose age has been revised downward to around 200,000 years.
But here’s the part most people miss: wooden tools are notoriously difficult to preserve, so these discoveries likely represent only a fraction of what once existed. When I spoke with Katerina Harvati, who led the excavation, she emphasized that humans were probably using wooden tools long before 400,000 years ago—we just haven’t found them yet. Given that wood is easier to work than stone, and even chimpanzees craft simple wooden tools, it’s plausible that wooden tools were humanity’s first technology.
This raises a thought-provoking question: Should we build grand narratives about human technological evolution based on such sparse evidence? To truly understand when wooden tools emerged, we’d need systematic investigations of sites where preservation is possible—a daunting task.
Now, let’s shift to another groundbreaking find: 60,000-year-old poison arrows from South Africa. Archaeologists discovered quartzite arrowheads coated in a sticky, poisonous substance, likely plant-based. But here’s the twist: arrowheads designed for poison use date back tens of thousands of years earlier, though the poison itself has long since degraded.
This discovery highlights the complexity of composite technology—combining multiple elements into a single tool. While early hominins like Ardipithecus or Australopithecus likely crafted simple wooden or bone tools, there’s no evidence they mastered composite technology. So, while 60,000 years might not be the exact origin of poison arrows, our margin of error is probably narrower than with wooden tools.
And then there’s the absolute horror show of dating prehistoric art. Cave paintings, sculptures, and engravings are notoriously difficult to date. While sediment layers can sometimes help, techniques like carbon dating only work for art less than 50,000 years old. Most cave art remains undated, and current technologies often fall short.
Take the recent discovery of a 67,800-year-old hand stencil in Sulawesi, Indonesia—now the oldest known rock art. But there’s a catch: this date is a minimum, derived from mineral layers formed over the artwork. The actual art could be much older.
So, where does this leave us? We’re not in the dark, but we’re far from a complete picture. Our understanding of human evolution is provisional, shaped by the artifacts we find and the technologies we use to study them. Stone tools, for example, have a robust record stretching back 3.3 million years, but wooden tools and art remain elusive.
Here’s a bold interpretation: What if wooden tools were humanity’s first technology, and art emerged far earlier than we currently believe? These are questions that spark debate and invite further exploration.
As we continue to dig, date, and discover, some uncertainties may persist. But others could dissolve with new techniques and findings. By the time I retire, I hope we’ll have a clearer timeline of ancient artistic practices—and perhaps even a few surprises along the way.
What do you think? Are we too quick to draw conclusions from limited evidence, or is our current understanding on the right track? Share your thoughts in the comments—let’s keep the conversation going!
