Well, here we are.

In just over two hours, my book officially comes to life. I've been waiting for 27 August 2015 for years. The Silk Roads: A New History of the World is the culmination of a journey that began while I was still a boy - keen to find out about parts of the world I was not being taught about, rather than those that I was.

I could not be more proud of the book. Picking it up brings back many memories of long days and late nights spent agonizing how to figure out works written hundreds or even thousands of years ago; of the excitement of spotting patterns; of the frustrations of giving up on dead ends and moving on.

I feel like the conductor of an orchestra made up of gifted virtuosi. I have been able to call up eye-witnesses from across the globe who lived over more than two millennia, who observed, recorded and tried to make sense of a world changing before their eyes. I have admired the authors of a huge range of sources, have learned from them and hope to have introduced them to new audiences.

I've been counting the weeks, days and hours as the launch date has crawled closer. I've been holding my breath to see what people think of a book that it is unashamedly ambitious, and tries to look at history in a different way.

And now, finally, the moment has arrived.

I hope all who read Silk Roads enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. It will excite, enthrall and challenge. Above all, I hope that it encourages readers to think about the past, and to remember why studying history is so rewarding - and so important.

So Google has shaken itself up and will re-organise under as Alphabet - hardly the most inspired choice of name, but handily ranks before Amazon and Apple in (hey!) alphabetical lists.

Re-branding in this way, according to experts and stock-pickers alike, is a genius idea. Google, so the story goes, is not a normal company, and so it can behave in non-normal ways. One would think that something had been miraculous had been invented. As it is, the new name (and excitement) simply reflects administrative changes in how the Google Empire is run. The Byzantines would have approved. Most of them that is.

The branding of the East Roman Empire as 'Byzantine' has its own story, worth saving for another day. But the Google into Alphabet has its own neat parallel in late antiquity when the authorities in Constantinople decided to switch from using Latin to using Greek.

The Roman Empire of course used Latin as its primary language - although the Emperor Claudius commended a barbarian for managing to learn 'both our languages' (that is, Latin and Greek). Claudius himself loved showing off his own prowess in Greek, delivering 'long replies' to envoys when given the chance, and liked nothing more than quoting Homer (presumably also at length and also in Greek) during official business.

Two problems emerged as the western part of the empire contracted and disintegrated and Rome itself spiraled into decline from the fifth century. First, the centre of gravity switched to the eastern Mediterranean where Greek was more widespread than in the west; and second, Greek was used by the computer programmers, the geeks and the Silicon valley equivalents of late antiquity - the Christian priesthood.

All societies desire to be meritocratic. Rewarding on ability, rather than accidence of birth, is one of the hall-marks of all empires, kingdoms and states since (as weather forecasters call it) 'records began.'

It is true, of course, that there has often been a dramatic disconnect between aspiration and reality: it's all very well wanting the best to rise to the top, after all, as long as one's own chances are not in any way diminished. Some of the most stratified and unfair societies in the history have maintained their openness to those from all backgrounds - despite all evidence to the contrary. Nevertheless, one of the keys to a fair and just society is not just to allow but to actively encourage those with talent to go forth and prosper.

That prosperity that does not have to be wealth-related: we live in a world where it seems very easy to forget that success can be measured in other ways too (as educators; as carers; as civil servants; as parents, as siblings, as friends and so on). But success is difficult, if not impossible, in a world where lack of opportunity is twinned with poverty.

If I were in a better mood, I'd give some examples from the Byzantine Empire; or from the Islamic world; or from the Mongol era - where contrary to popular belief, stability and social equality were jealously promoted and protected (You can read more about that in my Silk Roads book next month)

But I am today spitting with rage about the latest round of persecution within the university system. Government cuts announced last week will result in 'substantially higher debt[s] for the poorest students'.  As the Institute for Fiscal Studies reports, this will have a dramatic effect on education participation in the UK.

The results will be startling. More than 3.5 children in the UK - an astonishing 1 in 4 - live in poverty. Save The Children estimate that nearly half of them, 1.6 million, live in conditions of 'severe poverty' - with some concentration levels in individual wards across the country at 100%. These figures do not reflect the huge cuts in welfare that have just been passed - along with those now proposed - that Robert Peston says do not amount to efficiency savings but to 'public service reinvention' itself.

Education has always been a key motor for social mobility, allowing new ideas to burst out to challenge the old. At a time when the world is changing dramatically, we should be encouraging our finest young minds to study, rather than putting obstacles and debts in their way. We should be urging young talent from all backgrounds iinto engineering, into medicine, into studying Russian, Arabic, Persian and Chinese history, literature and languages so we can understand emerging opportunities, and commercial, political and military threats that will shape the coming decades.

But what those who teach students can tell you, is that when education and debt is linked, there is enormous pressure to run to safety - to walk down well-trodden paths. With debts to pay, it is all but impossible not to pick subjects that deliver safe results that unlock the jobs that unlock repayments and freedom from debts. Why pick subjects that are complex, challenging and exciting if they are risky and require hard work? Why learn a new language? Why be different?

The raise in fees, incidentally, will not even help the Treasury, says the IFS. It is the triumph of a nasty and ill-thought through dogma, where education loses its value - and produces a bland homogeneity where everyone repeats the same thing to each other, and believes it.

I spoke a couple of weeks ago at the wonderful Chalke Valley History Festival. I had been asked to talk about Russia and the Ukraine - a topic that was the subject of lively debate on the panel, and considerable discussion amongst the audience. Everyone seemed to be bursting with opinions about what was going on and what the West should do.

At the end, I asked my audience (in Russian) who spoke Russian; and (in Ukrainian), who spoke Ukrainian. Given only 5 out of nearly 600 put their hands up, i pointed out that it seemed to me that most views were grounded in emotional reactions to events, rather than being based on any body of evidence or knowledge (beyond that day's newspapers).

Through the disastrous pressure on our education system over the last few decades, we rely on gut instinct rather than on facts; we rely on being able to rush to snap conclusions that are not grounded in the solid earth of research, but on patterns that seem familiar and right.

Little wonder, then, that we can make such catastrophic misjudgments when the blind are leading the blind. I've written about Iraq and Afghanistan in my book, and thought I had seen it all. Then I read this US report that was declassified a few weeks ago. which empahises the West's support for the Salafist, the Muslim Brotherhood and AQI [al-Qaida in Iraq] against Assad's regime in Syria. It was worth supporting these groupings, noted the cable from 2012, even though they would be unlikely to depose Assad. We chose to back a horse that we thought would not win - oblivious to the pure evil that it helped unlock.

(Note too, by the way, that the report carefully notes that ''Russia, China and Iran' all disagree with the approach of supporting armed militant fanatics. Who looks smarter now?)

The dramatic narrowing of society into a winner-loser culture, where those who are dropped down one chimney have all the advantages, while those dropped down another get no chances is a recipe for disaster.

I am a historian, so try to understand the past without claiming to be able to read the future. But i can tell you this: nothing good comes when those who are already struggling have inane barriers put in their way by self-satisfied politicians who are out to prove what capable leaders they are. Government for the few at the expense of the many has never ended well.

The new attack on the poor and on education is narrow-minded philistinism of the highest order. Surely I am not alone in thinking so ?

I am watching a harrowing programme on BB4 about the destruction of antiquities and ancient sites across territories taken by Da'esh/Islamic State.

It is heart-breaking seeing magnificent works of art being smashed with glee - and being dismissed as idols and works that deserve to be lost. The attacks are attacks on humankind's inventiveness, on our species' creativity and on the love of beauty that defines all that is good about us.

The destruction of the past will make the future look very different. Works many centuries - and millennia old - have been lost forever.

What I suspect the programme will not discuss (we're only half way through), is how this has all come to pass. My sadness at the images we were being shown turned to anger when we saw how - for all his many flaws (and worse) -  Saddam Hussein had been a champion of museums and how he had invested lavishly in preserving, restoring and maintaining sites that celebrated the majestic history of Mesopotamia from antiquity to the 20th century.

I am not one of those people who thinks that we create terrorists, or that our tolerance is responsible for radicalizing the young who are heading to join Islamic state/Da'esh.

But in this case, we must also reflect on our own role in this, for we really do need to atone for our sins. This destruction is the price to pay for our spectacular failures in the Middle East as a whole, of our embarrassing inability to understand the people and history of this region, of our idiocy in looking to support regime change (in Iraq, Syria, Libya, Egypt and Tunisia).

The rage anger of those who are committing these acts of cultural barbarism - which go hand in hand with persecution and genocide of Yazidis and others - comes as a reaction to our actions in deliberately adn systematically dismantling a country to suit (what we thought were) our own ends.

I've written about this in my new book; but watching the programme this evening fills me with such despair that I could never capture in writing.

These are dangerous times, declare politicians and press alike, as the fate of Great Britain hangs in the balance. We are warned that there could be trouble ahead should the ‘Yes’ vote prevail. Such is the crisis that last week David Cameron and Ed Miliband not only agreed to cancel Prime Minister’s Question Time, but to head north (along with Nick Clegg). It’s that serious.

They could take some solace – and learn some lessons – from the Byzantine Empire. Much maligned and long ignored (the word ‘Byzantine’ is highly pejorative), Byzantium was a highly successful state that survived more than a thousand years. Above all, it was one of the world’s great commonwealths, uniting people living in vastly different climates, geographies and regions – and using a wide range of languages. Its success lay in being able to keep everyone happy all the time. Predictably, there were hiccups along the way.

It was common for regions to try to break away and go it alone. In such cases, the causes were familiar and repeating ones: they normally came at a time of economic contraction, where the central government was easy to characterise as distant, self-interested and unfair in its distributions of expenditure; these anguished cries usually went hand in hand with complaints about over-taxation at a time when resources were  already stretched.

Such scenarios leant themselves perfectly to the emergence of a charismatic figure with strong local connections who would typically rouse the community to think in terms of independence. With no TV debates or media scrutiny a thousand years ago, questions about what currency or laws would be used after separation were not asked, at least as far as we know; either way, they were bridges to be crossed in the future – details. The point at hand was that the capital had ignored the provinces for too long; it was time for practical solutions.

In such cases, the Byzantines themselves tended to take a more relaxed attitude than their modern peers. For one thing, it was normal to take a long view of the world. The Empire had been around a long time, and had had its ups and downs; revolts and uprisings did not need to be resolved quickly – though they did need to be resolved. Timing in politics, as in comedy, was everything.

For the inhabitants of Constantinople looking on as events unfolded (which they did on several occasions in the western provinces in the 10th and 11th centuries), attempts to detach from the empire were almost quaint. The idea of provincial towns wanting to make themselves into capital cities was charmingly quaint. Talent, trade and money flocked to Constantinople. There was no way that places like Adrianople, Sofia or Dyrrakhion would ever compete – lovely enough as they were in springtime; it was almost amusing to think they would even try.

For the government, on the other hand, revolts were bad news. They offered limitless opportunities for attacks from domestic rivals and up and coming politicians, eager to point out how out of touch and lazy the current regime had become. It was embarrassing too when dealing with foreign dignitaries at home and abroad: diplomats to Baghdad would face awkward questions from well-informed neighbours about trouble back at home, and have to put up with knowing glances and insincere offers to provide help if needed.

‘What are they going to do’, Alex Salmond said last week, as Cameron, Miliband and Clegg arrived in Scotland; ‘invade?’ As the Byzantines knew, shows of force were risky. There was a danger that attempting to restore order would backfire and make the government even less popular that it already was, and solidify support behind the rebels in the process; for another, there was the chance that those sent to calm things would be taken on and defeated – which likewise boosted the credibility of the early medieval equivalent of the Yes campaign. In Byzantium, as in Britain, it was a lose-lose scenario.

Often, though, revolts would fizzle out. But the way to win these battles was to appeal to the local population. Sometimes the carrot worked, as in the revolt of Roussel Balliol – the Alex Salmond of the 1070s. On this occasion, we are told, some of the rebels were won over by arguments, gifts and promises.

More often, though, it was the threat of the stick that was decisive. The situation is not ideal, admitted the general sent to bring matters to a conclusion, when he addressed the locals. Personal ambition and visions of independence had cost time and money. But this is how things were going to work from now on:

Fed up with trying to use reason, the moment had come to deal with things once and for all, he told an 11th century version of the Question Time audience. The government is out of pocket, and as a result of your truculence, you are going to be hit where it hurts – in the pocket. Playing high stakes with the central government had consequences. You are going to be hit with a one-off and expensive tax to teach you a lesson.

The crowd he was talking to were not happy about this, hissing at him furiously (think lots of versions of Jim Sillars on a bad day – well, on any day). But then, as a contemporary author put it, just as a pot might land face up or face down when it falls, the mood changed, people changed their minds and went home. Independence was all very well – until you realised you had to pay for it.

Still, they did better than others had done a few decades earlier. On that occasion, Basil II, a gnarled tough man with few airs or graces, eventually snapped at the persistent attempts for much of the western provinces to go their own way. Fed up with endless campaigning (military, rather than political), he forced a show down with the Pro-Independence movement.

Instead of almost weeping while sitting on a stool imploring the locals not to hurt the commonwealth, he dealt with them ruthlessly. Supposedly, nearly 15,000 men were blinded. One in each hundred was left with their sight so they could explain what had happened to their families. Defying the government was not something to consider lightly.

Some would say this Basil’s intervention was a little on the dramatic side – though the story gained much in the telling. The Byzantines also understood that it was a nifty thing to have examples in the historical locker to wheel out as examples in the future.

So maybe if politicians and celebrities want to Britain Stay Together, they should not be on bended knees begging Scotland to hang on, but spell out what happens if they don’t. Just don’t mention the Bulgars or Basil – owner of one of the great nicknames in history: the Bulgar Slayer.