The main reason chronology is so important is that it makes history a science. This discipline serves the purpose of estimating the time intervals between historical events, as well their correct sequence and relation to the present day. Virtually every fundamental historical conclusion depends on the dating of the events mentioned in historical sources. Thus, the interpretation of a historical event whose dating happens to be arbitrary or lacking in precision invariably drifts away from historical reality and transforms into a work of fiction at the end of the day.
The chronological model that we use today was created by several generations of chronologists in the XVII-XIX century, with Julian calendar dates ascribed to every major historical event of the antiquity. This model was formulated in a series of fundamental works dating from the XVI-XVII century, first and foremost – the writings of Josephus Justus Scaliger (1540-1609), commonly recognised as the founding father of modern chronology as a science. The fundamental works of Scaliger and his student and follower Dionysius Petavius represent the chronology of the ancient world as a table of perfectly arbitrary dates, believed to be based on ecclesiastical tradition, since nearly every historian was a member of the clergy back in the day.
The dates of historical events that comprise the table in question were derived from the interpretation of assorted numeric data contained in the Bible. Many of the keystone dates that have been used as reference points ever since are merely the results of scholastic exercises with numbers. Thus, the secular chronology of the present day rests upon the flimsy foundation of mediaeval scholasticism. Scaligerian chronology was initially created by the Roman Catholic Church, and remained in its clutches for centuries. Mediaeval theologians indulged in a great variety of pseudo-scientific endeavours, such as calculating the age of the Earth with the aid of assorted data contained in the Holy Writ. Needless to say, these holy fathers firmly believed in the infallibility of ecclesiastical chronology. Therefore, the way they treated the information provided by secular sources was determined by how well it could serve the advocacy of one arbitrary assumption or the other.
The sycophantic attitude of clerical chronologists to the works of their predecessors, whom they credited with divine inspiration and utter infallibility, ruled out the very notion of criticism, making it synonymous with “heresy”. After all, Scaliger and Petavius specified a precise dating of every more or less significant historical event, indicating the year, day, month, and sometimes even the time of day for each and every one of them. Modern historians are sloppy in comparison, apparently lacking the divine inspiration of their holy predecessors, which must be the only means of attaining such precision. That is to say, you won’t find the hours in the textbooks anymore, but all the years have been preserved in their original divinely inspired condition, so help us God.
By the XIX century, the accumulated volume of chronological material had grown to the extent of commanding respect by means of its sheer bulk and complexity, so the chronologists of the XIX century were perfectly happy making minor corrections here and there. By the XX century, no sane historian would dream of revising the foundations of historical chronology. Ancient chronology froze in the very condition it had reached in the works of Eusebius, St, Jerome, Theophilus, Augustine, Hippolytus, Scaliger, and Petavius. The very suggestion that historians have followed an erroneous chronology for about three centuries seems preposterous, since it contradicts the existing tradition. Consensus is one of the most formidable adversaries out there, after all.
And should anyone require additional proof of a very obvious fact, namely, that scientific dogma is a chip of the old fire and brimstone block, they are welcome to indulge in bringing the numerous inconsistencies of authorised history to the attention of the learned historians and demanding a reasonable explanation. After all, auto-da-fe has gone out of fashion a while ago, so all you risk is being ridiculed to smithereens if you are a lay researcher. If you happen to be a scientist, though, stubborn enough to persist in your inquisitiveness and caring little about becoming the laughing stock of the scientific community, you might be surprised to discover that although long pork roast is off the menu of Chez Scaliger in these diet-conscious times, the heirs of the old divinely inspired management shall spare no effort to introduce you to other all-time favourites that have been on their table d'hôte just as long – the gag and the ostrakon. And maybe a pint of castor oil to wash it down Mussolini style if no one’s watching.
