The Time of Druj 1104-1108
In Zoroastrianism’s dualistic cosmology, the world is divided between druj, evil, deceit and chaos, and asha, goodness, truth and order. The first years of the twelfth century were undoubtedly a time when druj reigned supreme over the Iranians. Epidemic disease was a constant feature of pre-modern societies across the world – regularly causing severe suffering and death. However, the Black Death, that hit the Middle East and Europe during the 1100s, was remarkable in its scale and social impact. In Persia, as much as half of the population would perish, while in many urban areas the death toll was much higher.
The pandemic triggered a breakdown of the Persian social order. As the disease cut through the realm, Persia’s elites abandoned the common folk to seclude themselves as best they could. Nobles fled to their manor houses, the mobads shut themselves away in their fire temples, infrastructure was neglected and fell into disrepair, religious rites went unperformed, laws unenforced, banditry grew explosively to the extent it was impossible to travel more than short distances without an armed retinue – paralysing the silk road trade upon which the merchant class depended.
From a religious and cultural perspective, the impact on Zoroastrianism’s unique funerary rites was particularly shocking to pious society. Zoroastrians neither cremate nor bury their dead – not wishing to spread the corruption of dead onto the sacred fire and earth. Instead they place their deceased on top of isolated Towers of Silence to be consumed by carrion and the elements. During the plague, this became impractical and thousands were buried in mass graves or simple burned – breaking sacred taboos and contributing to the wider questioning of tradition across society. Indeed, these years were punctuated by the spread of mass social unrest, particularly among the lower orders, and new millenarian and revolutionary currents that presaged the end of the world and upturning of the existing order.
Despite the elite’s attempt to shelter themselves from the ravages of the plague, the disease hit the royal household with great force – carrying away Shah Gholam II and his entire family in 1104. With their deaths, the male royal line ran dry. A cousin of his predecessor, the new Shah, Shahab, was a grandson of Gholam I through his second son. This wing of the Ziyarid clan possessed little in the way of power, influence, recognition or legitimacy. Upon his succession, rumours quickly spread around the land that Shahab’s father was a bastard, not truly of royal blood, and that he was therefore illegitimate as a sovereign. These vicious rumours would swirl into the existing social ferment – pushing Persia further into the abyss.
With the crown, gentry, religious elites and merchant classes all delegitimised and anti-systemic ideas rampant among the common folk – the Iranian peasantry were primed for revolution. Their moment came in the Peasants Revolt of 1104, one of the most traumatic moments in Persia’s Medieval history. Triggered by riots opposing the rise of an alleged bastard to the throne, unrest quickly escalated into a mass revolt in the autumn months of 1104. With a focal point in the central region of the Jibal, but spread into Fars and as far east as Khorosan; the rebellion was notable in that, although many Muslim participated, it was primarily a rebellion of the Zoroastrian core of the realm rather than its oppressed minority peripheries. Depleted by Gholam II’s wars and then the effects of the plague, the royal army could only put up passing resistance to the rebels – being forced to retreat north to the Caspian region. This gave the peasants a free hand to unleash a whirlwind of class violence – sacking manor houses, slaying their old landowners and carrying away what food, booty and women they could, attacking cities and fire temples. The whole of central Persia was aflame.
Through most of Persia, the revolt burned brightly but briefly. After having sacked the holdings of their local elites and divided their property among themselves, the majority of the rebels returned to their home – finding the high walls of fortresses and cities too great a challenge to overcome. The exception was around the capital as Isfahan. There, the rebels found a degree of leadership and coherence they lacked elsewhere under the renegade military commander Artin Faraasman. The settled into a long siege of the capital – trapping the Shah himself and his family inside. Having failed to properly organise their food stores through the chaos of the preceding period, within months starvation had set in. Shahab himself, seeking to share the burden of hardship with his people, refused special treatment and lived on the same paltry rations as his soldiers defending the walls. Nonetheless, this situation could not be sustained and in October 1105 the Shah, now with the skeletal appearance of a famine victim, negotiated the surrender of Isfahan to Faraasman in exchange for safe passage to Qom – which would be established as a new capital. Upon victory, Faraasman established a petty realm for himself at Isfahan – redistributing land and property to the peasantry who had elevated him and ransacking the great city for all its worth.
This anarchic period at the beginning of the century provided the context for new religious developments within Zoroastrianism that looked back to the much older Mazdakite tradition. The original Mazdaki movement had taken place during another period of social discontent in the sixth century Sassanian Empire. There, a reforming mobad, Mazdak the Younger, had professed a new vision of Zoroastrianism. His teachings had denigrated the role the clergy and religious traditions – stressing individual spirituality and ethics – supported pacifism and vegetarianism, a degree of sexual promiscuity including the sharing of women, and most central of all an extreme egalitarianism that extended to social programmes and redistribution. Mazdak had gained a powerful following, and even the support of Shah Kavadh I who sought to implement his teachings. Ultimately, Mazdak’s revolution was overturned – and the prophet and his followers brutally killed, Mazdak himself being pierced by many arrows. Yet, Mazdakite currents in Zoroastrian thinking were never entirely extinguished.
Through much of the post-Sassanian period of Zoroastrian history Mazdakism would be posed as one of two poles in Zoroastrian thinking, in opposition to Orthodox currents. These terms would describe varieties of movements at either end of the spectrum that might only hold a few shared characteristics. Broadly, movements stressing egalitarianism, decentralisation, anti-clericalism and a questioning of tradition were described as Mazdakite, while those that emphasised, stability, hierarchy, central religious authority, the importance of the clergy and the faith’s ancient roots and traditions occupied the Orthodox end of the Zoroastrian spectrum.
The Neo-Mazdakite movement of the twelfth century had its origins among another prophetic mobad named Naveed Tuli. Zoroastrianism had lacked a central religious authority since the Arab Conquest, with the faith held together by the words of its sacred religious texts in the Avesta, ancient customs and the authority of the senior clergy. As such, while its lack of structure allowed some room for differences, an inflexible reliance on tradition tended to make it resistant to change. For most of his career, Naveed Tuli had lived a very ordinary life as a cleric in his home city of Hamadan. There, his interactions with the poor had made him an advocate for the disenfranchised, but it was the horrors of the 1100s that radicalised his philosophy. Having seen his home city besieged during the Peasants Revolt, and much of the Persian elite abandon the common folk during the plague and war, Tuli began to preach a new, radical creed.
Tuli believed that the social, political and, in the context of the still ongoing plague, epidemiological crises afflicting Persia were all linked to a shared spiritual crisis that could only be resolved by a drastic reordering of the existing order. Reviving many of the ideas of the Mazdak, he called for the pursuit of an egalitarian society through a redistribution of land and wealth that would do away with the inequities of Persia and a root and branch reform of the Zoroastrian religious structure that would strip the clergy of their land, wealth and power and bring them closer to the common people. The Neo-Mazdaki or Tulist movement quickly spread – finding great support in Hamadan itself and parts of Tabaristan but finding its greatest mass following along the Zagros Mountains on the Shahdom’s western fringe. Notably, the Mazdakis made great strides in converting the Kurds to Zoroastrianism from the Sunni faith that they had held to so strongly for generations under Ziyarid rule.
Crucially to the fate of the movement, the Mazdakites were able to appeal not just to the lower social orders but to elements of the elite as well. Indeed, given the horrors of the time, many were only to ready to accept the need for urgent and radical change. In 1107, Tuli travelled to the royal capital in Qom, where he appealed directly to the Shah. Although Shahab, sympathetic to the wise cleric but fearful of alienating his allies, initially turned him away, Tuli became close to Queen Soraya who eagerly embraced his teachings. It was through Soraya’s impassioned urgings the Shah himself began to change his thinkings. Early in 1108 publicly proclaimed his support for Tuli and invited the holy man into his council, promising to bring about a new world.