Draft paper for “In the crucible of Empire” (Yale University, 30-31 October 2014) Revolting subjects: Assyrian responses to resistance Karen Radner (University College London) From the 14th century BC onwards, Assyria was conceived as a territorial state and a hereditary monarchy. Despite the waxing and waning of its holdings, especially around the turn of the millennium, Assyria dominated Mesopotamia and, more often than not, the wider Middle East politically and militarily. A period of c. three centuries, from the reign of Aššurnasirpal II (r. 883-859 BC) onwards until the collapse of the state in the late 7th century BC, is today described as Assyria’s imperial period. This paper focuses on revolts during that time and on the Empire’s responses to resistance. We will concentrate on rebellions within the provinces of the Empire, not on the insurrection of client states (for a recent discussion of one such case, see Melville 2010). 1. A literary revolution As we shall see none of these instances of rebellion and insurrection qualify for Jack A. Goldstone’s definition of a revolution as combining the “elements of forcible overthrow of government, mass mobilization, the pursuit of a vision of social justice, and the creation of new political institutions” (Goldstone 2014: 9). But the concept of such a revolution would nevertheless have been familiar at least to educated Assyrians and Babylonians, as a classic work of literature deals very prominently with the theme. This composition is an epic poem in the Akkadian language and today called The Flood Story after its most dramatic episode or Atram-hasis (“Exceedingly wise”) after its main protagonist (translation: Foster 2004, 227-280). At the end of the Old Babylonian period (c. 1800-1600 BC), this poem was popular among urban audiences in the cities of Southern Mesopotamia, as manuscripts found in their private houses demonstrate. A millennium later, the poem is attested in slightly updated versions in manuscripts from the Assyrian royal library at Nineveh as well as the Ebabbar temple library at Sippar. While not without parallel, its long history of transmission makes Atram-hasis special among the literary works of the Old Babylonian period and suggests that the poem never lost its appeal and relevance. Atram-hasis encompasses the whole mythological history of mankind (van Koppen 2011, 142). For our purposes, the beginning of the tale is most interesting. It describes a world still without people where gods are split into a small elite of great gods (conceived as a royal court) and the masses of lesser gods who have to provide for both groups. Eventually, fed up with the drudgery of hard agricultural work, the lesser gods rebel. They lay down work and take up arms, marching against the great gods and putting them under siege. Disbelief 1 Draft paper for “In the crucible of Empire” (Yale University, 30-31 October 2014) gives way to fear, and the great gods begin negotiations that resolve the social conflict with the creation of humankind, invented to release the lesser gods from their hard work and provide for all gods. A new world order is thus established. The episode in Atram-hasis thus features all of Goldstone’s categories, namely the forcible overthrow of government, mass mobilization, the pursuit of a vision of social justice, and the creation of new political institutions. Some scholars have argued that the revolution described in Atram-hasis reflects actual political events in the early 2nd millennium BC (cf. Shehata 2001, 6 for literature) but while this is possible, there is no consensus. For our purposes, the question how first millennium audiences reacted to this narrative of a successful revolutionary movement is more essential but in the absence of any relevant testimonies, we can only speculate. Let us instead turn to rebellions against Assyrian imperial power. 2. The monarchy and other political institutions Assyria’s self-designation was the “land of Aššur” (māt Aššur). Using the Greek form Assyria obscures some of the nuances of its actual name. “Land of Aššur” refers as much to the city of Aššur, the state’s original centre and the place of origin of its ruling dynasty, as to the deity of the same name whose ancient temple dominated that city. The god Aššur and the city of Aššur are inseparable, as the deity is the personification of the rocky crag called Qal’at Sherqat in Arabic that towers high above a bend of the river Tigris. The deity’s only temple stood on this very crag. The Assyrian ruler was considered Aššur’s human agent, invested by the deity’s grace with the power to rule, and at the same time also his head priest, lending him religious as well as political authority. All Assyrian kings without exception were members of one particular family originally from the city of Aššur, regardless of whether they had been appointed crown prince and inherited the crown or whether they had taken the throne as usurpers (Radner 2010). Apart from the king, the political institutions of the Assyrian Empire are largely obscure. They are, however, relatively well known for a well-documented period of around a century in the early 2nd millennium when Aššur was a city-state. Mario Liverani (2011, 263) has recently described its “mixed constitution” as comprising “a monocratic power represented by the [ruler], an aristocratic power represented by the līmum [i.e., a high administrative office held in annual rotation by the head of one of the major families and determined by lot] and a democratic power represented by the city assembly”. All these institutions were maintained until the end of the Assyrian Empire in the late 7th century. While it is unmistakable that they were modified in order to suit the needs of kingdom and empire it is less than clear how. The available sources (state archives; royal inscriptions) focus very much on the king and his “palace”, which Liverani (2011, 263) has described very appropriately as “an impressive apparatus of military 2 Draft paper for “In the crucible of Empire” (Yale University, 30-31 October 2014) and fiscal nature”: in the shape of the palaces created in the provincial centres this institution was physically present throughout the entire “land of Aššur”. But the fact that the other institutions were kept alive at all highlights that the Assyrian monarchy did not care to promote itself as the sole pillar of the state. A turning point in the relation between the king and the “aristocratic” and “democratic” powers of Assyria was marked by the relocation of the seat of royal power away from Aššur to Kalhu in 879 BC during the reign of Aššurnasirpal II. I have argued (Radner 2011a) that the relocation of the seat of royal power must be primarily seen as a strategy to, firstly, emancipate the king from god Aššur and, secondly, weaken the influence of the aristocratic and democratic powers whose influence must have been strongest and most visible in the city of Aššur. Kalhu was greatly expanded in size and the residents of the new centre of state were handpicked from among the urban elites of the Assyrian heartland and also the outlying provinces, as the royal edict appointing the royal official Nergal-apilkumu’a (a eunuch) to oversee the move to Kalhu makes abundantly clear. We can safely assume that only those were selected who had showed enthusiasm for the king, thus creating in 879 BC not only a new political centre but one that was exclusively populated by loyal supporters of the crown (Radner 2011a). This aspect of the move prompted the later relocation of the imperial centre to DurŠarrukin in 706 BC and then to Nineveh in c. 700 BC, both situated in the Assyrian heartland. The royal strategy of weakening the aristocratic and democratic powers was combined with a clear preference for delegating governing power to officials who owed their appointment and status entirely to the king (Radner 2011b). A central strategy for achieving the state’s cohesion saw, after a period of transition in the 9th century BC, the total abolishment of local dynasties in the newly integrated provinces and their replacement with governors without hereditary claims from the core region. Whenever a new king ascended to the throne, he assigned all state offices anew, including posts as governors and ambassadors. He could either reappoint his predecessors’ officials or make new choices. The officials all received a copy of a signet ring engraved with the universally recognised imperial emblem: the king slaying a rampant lion. This ring served as a symbol of their office and as a tool to act in the king’s stead. It enabled them to issue commands in the king’s stead while stressing that they were his men. Bound by loyalty oaths, the officials’ allegiance to the king was further protected by the fact that from the 9th century onwards, many of them were eunuchs, whose family links had been severed and replaced by the patronage of the royal family. Eunuchs were the preferred choice for the highest administrative and military appointments, at the expense of the members of the old urban elites. Their sterility also effectively prevented the emergence of new local dynasties and moreover avoided competition with the royal clan. No state office but that of the king was hereditary. 3 Draft paper for “In the crucible of Empire” (Yale University, 30-31 October 2014) 3. Resistance is futile – but rebellions happen Kalhu’s most impressive building was certainly King Aššurnasirpal’s new palace (Oates & Oates 2001). With a length of 200 meters and a width of 130 meters, this gigantic building dominated its surroundings and, in an inversion of the topography of Aššur, dwarfed the neighbouring temples. The images decorating the throne room (Winter 1983) were consciously designed to promote a crucial twofold ideological message. Firstly, the throne room was to emphasise that despite the move away from the temple of the god Aššur in the city of Aššur, the relationship between the god and the king, his chosen representative, was as close and strong as ever – despite the fact that when king and court moved to Kalhu, the deity stayed behind. The ingredients for the daily feast of the god in his temple in Aššur continued to be provided by the subjects of the empire but all other taxes and tribute were now delivered to the king and his imperial capital. Secondly, the throne room decoration showed the king in tight control of all his lands. They juxtapose orderly, calm scenes of audiences and tribute delivery that show the encounter of the king with his dutiful subjects (from the provinces and the client states alike) and chaotic, violent scenes of conquest and siege that illustrate how the king reacted to resistance. The message is clear. Cooperation is mutually beneficial while resistance is futile. Several of Aššurnasirpal’s successors built their own palaces, and while they felt it no longer necessary to prominently stress unity with the god Aššur, their palace decorations continue to emphasise the king’s power over the lands by contrasting peaceful interaction between the king and his subjects with the furious response to revolt. Instances of revolt are frequently documented not only in the palace reliefs (which serve to commemorate actual events) but also in the textual sources. The most common terms to describe such events are the synonyms sīhu (CAD S [1984], 240 f.) and bārtu (CAD B [1965], 113-115), “rebellion, insurrection, revolt” (cf. Juhás 2011). Thus, the so-called Eponym Chronicles – compositions that combine lists of the year eponyms (the līmu-officials mentioned above) with brief historical information (available for the period from 840-700 BC; edition: Millard 1994) – feature the comment sīhu or sīhu ina (place name), i.e. “rebellion in (place name)”, for the years 826, 825, 824, 823, 822, 821, 820, 763, 762, 761, 760, 759 and 746 BC. 4. Succession wars and how to prevent them This last rebellion of 746 BC brought the usurper Tiglath-pileser III to the throne while the insurgences between 826-820 BC mark the difficult period of transition from the exceptionally long-ruling Shalmaneser III to his eventual successor 4 Draft paper for “In the crucible of Empire” (Yale University, 30-31 October 2014) Shamshi-Adad V. We encounter in leading roles Dayyan-Aššur, Shalmaneser’s long-standing Commander-in-chief (turtānu, one of the highest state officials), a eunuch, and Aššur-da’’in-apla, a son of Shalmaneser and presumably his crown prince (Fuchs 2008, 65-68). Writes his brother, the King Shamshi-Adad V, on a public monument that he had erected in the capital Kalhu after he was able to establish himself as unrivalled ruler over Assyria: “When Aššur-da’’in-apla, at the time of Shalmaneser (III), his father, acted treacherously by inciting rebellion (sīhu) and uprising (bartu), criminal acts, caused the land to rebel and prepared for battle, he won over to his side the people of Assyria, high-born and low-born, and made them take binding oaths (tamītu). He caused the cities to revolt and made ready to wage battle and war. The cities …, altogether 27 centres with their fortresses, which had rebelled against Shalameser (III), king of the four world quarters, my father, sided with Aššur-da’’in-apla. By the command of the great gods, my lords, I subdued (the rebels).” (Grayson 1996, 183). According to this, support for the prince’s rebellion against his father was very wide spread, as the 27 cities listed here include prominent central Assyrian places such as Aššur, Nineveh and Kurbail and many provincial centres from Amedi (Diyarbakir in Turkey) to Zaban (on the Diyala in southeastern Iraq). Kalhu, stronghold of the monarchy and the empire, is conspicuously missing. Generally speaking, the Assyrian monarchy was most vulnerable at the moment when the king died or when he was considered too frail or otherwise unfit for rule (abdication was not an option), before supreme power had formally been passed on to his successor on the occasion of the New Year celebrations (in March/April) at the Aššur temple in Aššur. Parricide and fratricide did not disqualify from kingship, and therefore succession wars are not infrequently attested. The obvious solution was to prevent such succession conflicts from happening altogether by cementing the succession before the ruler’s death. At least by the 7th century, succession oaths imposed on the imperial subjects were designed to guarantee that the appointed crown prince would eventually succeed as king without opposition. While earlier examples are known only from very fragmentary manuscripts (Frahm 2009, 129-135), the succession treaty imposed by Esarhaddon (r. 680-669 BC) in 672 survives in at least nine copies found in Kalhu, a copy from Kullania (Tell Tayinat on the Orontes) and a fragment from Aššur. These manuscripts show that the same treaty was used to bind state officials appointed by the king in the Assyrian provinces and client rulers in the adjoining regions and internal peripheries. 5 Draft paper for “In the crucible of Empire” (Yale University, 30-31 October 2014) Inside the provincial system: “The treaty of Esarhaddon, king of Assyria, son of Sennacherib, king of Assyria, with the governor of Kullania, with the deputy, the majordomo, the scribes, the chariot drivers, the third men, the village managers, the information officers, the prefects, the cohort commanders, the charioteers, the cavalrymen, the exempt, the outriders, the specialists, the shi[eld bearers], the craftsmen, all the men [in his hands], great and small, as many as there are from sunrise to sunset, all those over whom Esarhaddon exercises kingship and lordship – with them and with the men who will be born in days to come after the treaty.” (Parpola & Watanabe 1988, no. 6 – ND 4331) Outside the provincial system: “The treaty of Esarhaddon, king of the world, king of Assyria, son of Sennacherib, king of the world, king of Assyria, with Tunî, city lord of Elippi, his sons, his grandsons and the people of Elippi, all the men in his hands, small and great, as many as there are from sunrise to sunset, all those over whom Esarhaddon exercises kingship and lordship – with you, your sons and your grandsons who will be born in days to come after the treaty.” (Lauinger 2012) But while Esarhaddon’s succession happened as planned, the treaty patently did not prevent insurgencies, as we shall see when discussion the events of 670. 5. Independence movements Dynastic contest could provide the opportunity for local independence movements to gain traction. A good example is the aftermath of the 722 putsch that disposed of King Shalmaneser V (r. 726-722 BC) and brought his brother Sargon II (r. 721-705 BC) to the throne (Fuchs 2009). Even after Sargon’s accession to power, conflicts continued for some time in the Assyrian heartland, in the western provinces and in Babylonia. In the heartland, the civil war resulted most prominently in the deportation of 3,600 inhabitants of the city of Aššur. In Syro-Palestine, one Ilu-bi’di (also Iau-bi’di) managed to temporarily free several of the western provinces, including Samaria and Damascus, from Assyrian control and to unite them as the resurrected kingdom of Hamath under his leadership. Sargon eventually crushed these ambitions in 720 BC, destroyed the city of Hamath and killed the rebel leaders. Ilu-bi’di was taken to Central Assyria where he was publicly flayed. This most violent form of execution in the Assyrian repertoire of terror was reserved for the most prominent enemies of the state and used as a deterrent to discourage would-be insurgents. Babylonia, too, used the opportunity to secede. The region had been less rigidly integrated into the Empire and Sargon, like his predecessors, styled himself “King of Babylon” in addition to his Assyrian royal titles. But now, the region supported Marduk-apla-iddina, the leader of the Bit-Yakin tribe and formerly an Assyrian ally, 6 Draft paper for “In the crucible of Empire” (Yale University, 30-31 October 2014) in his claim to the Babylonian throne. He was crowned a mere three month after Sargon had come to power. An early attempt to regain control in 720 was unsuccessful when the Battle of Der was lost (or at least not decisive) but Sargon managed to expel Marduk-apla-iddina a decade later in 710 BC and reclaimed the Babylonian crown for himself. His treatment of the Babylonians was markedly different compared to the brutal handling of the Syrian insurgents. His pointed leniency was a key strategy in his attempts to win approval as King of Babylon while Marduk-apla-iddina, who remained alive and footloose, remained a viable alternative to his candidacy. While in the heartland the conflicts following the 720 putsch can be characterised as on-going dynastic contest, designed to bring another member of the royal clan to the throne, the movements in Syro-Palestine and Babylonia aspired to independence from Assyrian rule. These revolts were surely informed both by ideological and economic considerations. The widely different Assyrian reaction to the two rebellions, once defeated, reflects the balance of power but perhaps also the economic value of the regions although the available sources do not directly elucidate this last point. 6. Revolting against a false king In contrast to the dynastic contests and independence movements just discussed, the revolts noted in the Eponym Chronicle for the years 763-759 BC occurred more than a decade after King Aššur-dan III (r. 772-755 BC) had ascended to the throne. They are described as regional insurgencies in the cities Aššur, Arrapha (near Kerkuk) and Guzana (near Nusaybin on the Turkish-Syrian border), respectively, and follow an epidemic and a sun eclipse, both noted in the Chronicle. A sun eclipse was always interpreted as a bad omen for the king, and a full eclipse, such as the one in 763, would have been visible to all, not just to the royal astronomers who habitually watched out for such signs. If the opinion that the eclipse signalled divine withdrawal of support for Aššur-dan enjoyed any popularity (and this is likely), this event may well have set off the initial insurrection in Aššur, the city of the king’s divine overlord. Aššur-dan’s reign is poorly documented, so little more can be said about the circumstances. Much better known is the case of a revolt against Esarhaddon in 670 BC. However, the events have to be constructed from various letters and are not always clear. It would seem that the movement took its departure from the western city of Harran (near Urfa in Turkey) where a prophecy communicated through a local woman provided the ideological foundation for the insurrection. The woman had fallen into ecstasy and uttered a sensational divine message: “This is the word of the god Nusku: Kingship belongs to Sasî. I shall destroy the name and the seed of Sennacherib!” (Luukko & Van Buylaere 2003, no. 59). This prophecy proclaimed Sennacherib’s son Esarhaddon and his heirs as impostors, 7 Draft paper for “In the crucible of Empire” (Yale University, 30-31 October 2014) unworthy to rule over Assyria. Beyond the fact that he kept a household at Harran at the time, we do not know much about Sasî, Assyria’s one true king. Given the longstanding tradition that reserved the Assyrian throne exclusively for members of the royal clan, Sasî may have been a distant relative of Esarhaddon, perhaps descended from Sennacherib’s father Sargon II (r. 721-705 BC). What started as a local insurgence quickly grew into a transregional movement, as within a very short period of time supporters joined the movement in various parts of the Empire. Some, like Esarhaddon’s Chief Eunuch Aššur-naṣir (Radner 2003, 172) or Abdâ, the city overseer of Aššur (Frahm 2010, 114 f), held very influential positions. Allies of such calibre would have enabled the rebels to tap into the state communication network, which can explain the rapid spread of the movement. Sasî imposed loyalty oaths, as if he already were king (Luukko & Van Buylaere 2003, no. 243), just like previous rebels against the crown had done, namely the already discussed prince Aššur-da’’in-apla and prince Urdu-Mullissi in his plot against Sennacherib in 681 BC. In marked difference to the traitors of 681, who had plotted regicide as a small group and in utmost secrecy directly under the king’s eyes, the new rebels seem to have been less concerned about the concealment of their plans. Their belief that Sasî was chosen and protected by the gods as the true king of Assyria will of course have made all the difference. Esarhaddon did not react immediately but gathered detailed information about the rebels and their supporters. Then, as a Babylonian chronicle text puts it in the sole entry for the year 670: “In Assyria, the king killed many of his great ones with the sword.” (Grayson 1975, 86; 127). According to Esarhaddon’s chief physician, the insurrection “made all other people hateful in the eyes of the king, smearing them like a tanner with the oil of fish” (Parpola 1993, no. 316). The movement to replace Esarhaddon with Sasî was stopped but at great cost for the state. After the executions in the wake of Sennacherib’s murder in 681, this was the second mass culling among the Assyrian state officials that Esarhaddon had ordered within a decade. But the well-oiled machinery of Assyria’s administration was the backbone of the empire and this caused permanent harm to the state, perhaps more than murdering a king would have. Just how much the state was damaged is shown by the fact that in the first months of the year 669, no official was chosen to provide the year’s name (as shown by the date formula in Kwasman & Parpola 1991, no. 286, dated to the first month of the year “after Kanunayu”) – a situation which is extremely rarely attested in the long course of Assyrian history and always marks a time of inner turbulences (Millard 1994, 67 f). The motivation of the 670 insurgents was ideological. As far as we can see, economic reasons play no role at all. The king’s authority was fundamentally challenged because his legitimacy and divine right to rule were contested. His response was extreme violence against the rebels, seemingly without any regard for the implications for the state’s stability. Absolution and rehabilitation of the 8 Draft paper for “In the crucible of Empire” (Yale University, 30-31 October 2014) rebels were not possible, however valuable the individual may have been to the state. 7. Conclusions There is no attempt in the official records of the Assyrian Empire to disguise the fact that rebellions happened. However, a widely accepted ideology of divinely granted and supported rule provided a strong foundation for the monarchy. During the imperial phase, traditional aristocratic and democratic powers were curtailed, although not abolished. Most revolts were therefore dynastic contests for the kingship, settled among members of the royal clan and their factions. The death of a king, his old age or perceived lack of divine support could all prompt such uprisings that were generally ideologically motivated. The only possible response to an usurpation attempt was the eradication of the rival and his supporters. Independence movements in integrated regions were relatively rare. But opportunity breeds rebels. When the Assyrian heartland, in the grip of a dynastic power struggle, was temporarily paralysed a region might attempt to slip out of direct Assyrian control. Such secession movements were likely informed both by ideological and economic factors and triggered patriotic feelings, broadly perceived as anti-Assyrian by Assyrian commentators. The Empire’s responses could vary enormously, from great leniency to extreme brutality, and reflect a pragmatic approach to the assertion of power. While the manuscripts of Atram-hasis in the royal library of Nineveh and in the Ebabbar temple at Sippar suggest that at least some educated Assyrians and Babylonians were familiar with the concept of revolution as a vehicle for social change, none of the conflicts discussed can easily be described in this way. Bibliography Foster, Benjamin R. 2004. Before the Muses: An Anthology of Akkadian Literature. Bethesda MD: CDL Press. 3rd edition. Frahm, Eckart. 2009. Historische und historisch-literarische Texte (Keilschrifttexte aus Assur literarischen Inhalts 3). Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz. Frahm, Eckart. 2010. ‘Hochverrat in Assur.’ In Assur-Forschungen, ed. Stefan M. 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