Episode 7: The Khan of Arzhan 1

We assess environmental and sociocultural changes of the 1000s BCE and track how these changes would culminate in the kurgan of Arzhan 1. 

Transcript

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The sky was gray over the plains of the everlasting steppe. In an area by the Yenisei River, a gathering of individuals had coalesced together. There was weeping. Crying. Sorrow. 

The chief was dead. The man had led the community through a long, momentous period of time. There’d been strife in the years long before. There’d been war and disease and famine. But, then there was a time of prosperity. Times in which great numbers of children were born and the herds of animals fattened up. Good times indeed for this remote community nestled somewhere near the Altai and Sayan mountains.

And now the chief was dead. One could tell that the chief was a respected man. A great mound had been dug up, a kurgan that involved thousands of hours and hundreds of men. Outside of the opening, a great number of people had gathered. There was a somber stillness to the air, save for a single, solitary breath of wind that cut through the mountain valley. It was cold. One could see it in the mists that flew out of peoples’ breaths. 

Then, the death procession began its march into the kurgan. There were the few, great warriors of the chief. These had been the chief’s comrades in arms, the mighty wolves that fell upon the tribe’s enemies. Six of them rode on great horses, while two men led the group by foot. All of them, man and horse, were cloaked in beautiful armor and dazzling garments. Their heads were bent low, and one by one they marched forward toward death’s door. At the end of the procession was a young woman, the chief’s wife. She too was dressed beautifully, though her eyes gazed onto the crowd in sorrow. 

Finally, there was a great mound of treasure. Carts carrying plaques and statues and artifacts of gold, silver, and bronze glistened despite the gray skies. These were goods that came from all over the known world, from the steppes beyond the Altai in both westward and eastward directions. Such was the influence of the now dead chief. 

Each of the individuals entered the kurgan mound. The treasure followed soon after. A holy man conducted a ceremony, wishing all of them good fortune in the afterlife. There would be a great feast later that night, conducted as part of a final honor for this greatest of leaders. Then, they would all join the chief in the next land, the world of their ancestors and of their gods. As sacrifices, they too were destined for death.

Welcome back to the Nomads and Empires podcast, episode 7. Last time, we examined the rise of the Indo-Europeans and their many, and I mean many, migrations. We broadly traced their origins to the north Caucasus steppe, though others have posited places like Anatolia as being likelier places of origin. Although their origins are shrouded in mystery, we do know much more about where the Indo-Europeans went, and so we tracked their movements across Eurasia. Some groups entered Europe, while some went to the Tarim Basin. By the end of the previous episode, we found that the Eurasian steppes, or at least the central and western portions, were now dominated by Indo-Iranian speakers.

As we approach the mid-1000s BCE, we know that these Indo-Iranians would play pivotal roles in massive migration movements down into Iran and India. Coinciding with this migratory phenomena were developments in metalworking, urbanization, and social structuring.

On the steppes, these developments were certainly being felt, and we’ll see a number of major innovations in our dive on the Arzhan burials later in this episode. But first, let’s briefly go over the setting in the early-1000s BCE and assess how the peoples of the Kazakh and Pontic steppes were doing in this period of time. In the grasslands of Ukraine, the scene was dominated by the Srubnaya culture, while in the central steppes, the land was populated by the Andronovo. Both prehistoric cultures were almost certainly Indo-Iranians, but there were key differences that were demarcated by the Ural Mountains. Geographically, we should remember that the Ural Mountains do divide the steppe, and although there is a small gap at the southern end that allows groups to move between the central and western grasslands, these mountains can and do create pseudo-boundaries for steppe groups. This was certainly the case for the Srubnaya and Andronovo cultures.

The Srubnaya for instance were defined by unique cultural characteristics. The most significant was their usage of timber in burial sites, hence why some scholars use the name “Timber-Grave” when talking about the Srubnaya. The Srubnaya were known to be a relatively settled, agricultural people, with several hundred villages being found across the Pontic steppe, as well as in the nearby forest steppes. These settlements were relatively small, containing only a few buildings and housing a small number of families, but they were widespread. Such communities were defined by animal herding practices, as many villages were surrounded by nearby camps that were likely used as pasture grounds. These were not nomadic camps, but instead were local places that could be rotated for the purposes of herding animals. The Srubnaya seem to have remained in permanent settlements. 

Of course, these developments likely coincided with a growing sense of militarization. As villages grew, more and more individuals were needed in the name of defense and perhaps even offensive measures. One interesting study I read indicated that some Srubnaya communities sacrificed dogs, and that such sacrifices had martial connotations. These could’ve been rites of passage into adolescence or even rituals dedicated to war bands. Regardless, the Srubnaya communities showcased some of the changes we noticed in the previous episode. On the Pontic steppe, there was an increase in agricultural communities that practiced animal domestication, and it seems likely that connections with the forest steppe, the Caucasus Mountains, and the great civilizations of Mesopotamia spurred trade, innovation, and militarization.

The Andronovo culture, residing to the east of the Ural Mountains and with a cultural maximum somewhere in the Altai Mountains, is an interesting case. In many ways, the Andronovo were quite similar to the Srubnaya. The Andronovo economy was based on agriculture and animal domestication. Further similarities could be found in material culture, with some prehistoric sites containing Andronovo pottery vessels that strongly resemble Srubnayan ones. However there were also key differences. The Andronovo culture may have relied less on agriculture than their Srubnaya counterparts and they instead seemed to have focused more of their efforts on animal herding. 

Indeed, Professor David Anthony, who I’ve cited many times now, claims that the Andronovo “represented the maturation and consolidation of an economy based on cattle and sheep herding almost everywhere in the grasslands east of the Urals.” Within Andronovo communities, we find a number of rather impressive technological developments. Many settlements contained wells, while others had ovens specifically designed for copper production. We find a number of mines that were specifically used by the Andronovo, and Andronovan miners appear to have dug for tin, malachite, azurite, and sulfide. In turn, it is likely that these metals were used for military purposes, and we have very clear evidence of Andronovo raids into Central Asia in this period of time. As an aside, we should remember that the Indo-Iranian migration movements into Iran and northern India more than likely correlate with these Andronovo movements.

It is, however, important to remember that these broad cultural groups are simply generalizations. For instance, the Andronovo is typically split into a number of other subcultures, with two main branches being the Alakul and Federovo. There were probably even more distinctions and differences than we can know of. Some scholars even believe that cultural differences could be found across individual villages, which frankly isn’t that surprising at all.

But, let’s move away from these specifics and examine these developments from a broader perspective. Between the Andronovo and Srubnaya, we have a remarkably similar set of cultural practices and technological innovations being practiced on the western and central Eurasian steppes. As some scholars keenly point out, this means that we have a rather broad continuum that stretches from the Danube valley to the Altai Mountains. This continuum was defined by settled communities that practiced agriculture and animal domestication. Such groups had access to metalworking and pottery, while culturally, we find evidence of sacrificial offerings of goods like grain, milk, and charcoal. Both the Andronovo and Srubnaya had many interactions with their neighbors, and on both ends, there is very clear evidence of trade, raiding, and warfare.

This is what we can broadly ascertain from the period of around 1800-1200 BCE. 

And then, the seasons were starting to change. Those living on the western and central steppes could feel it in the air. The climate was getting drier, more arid. Gradually, the forests near the steppes began to recede. Grasslands were starting to expand. Rivers flooded with greater intensity and at greater rates. Across the steppe, from Central Asia to the Mediterranean Sea, these changes could be felt. However, the fallout of this event went even further. In Greece, in Mesopotamia, and the Levant, in the lands of great civilizations and urban dwellings, civilization seems to have collapsed. The Sea Peoples invaded the Hittites and the Egyptians. A number of cities were abandoned, destroyed, and lost to ash and sand. Death greeted many. 

So what happened?

Around this time, the climate was changing. Starting around 1200 BCE, we find evidence of rapidly changing conditions. Some years were arid, the next were more wet, but eventually a dry, arid environment began to win out. This coincided with a significant reduction in rain, and as such, there were now greater periods of drought. This almost certainly led to major disruptions in food production and societal development. For the Mediterranean world, particularly in the great Bronze Age empires, this climate change would cause major sociocultural upheavals. Many have often used the term “Bronze Age Collapse” when talking about the many changes occurring in this time, and though some scholars are now pushing against the idea of a total breakdown of society and culture, this period of time was almost certainly defined by uncertainty and chaos.

For those living in the Eurasian steppes, the Srubnaya and Andronovo, this change in climate may have led to a particularly key development for our narrative. As the trees receded and the steppes expanded, suddenly, many settlements were abandoned. New settlements did emerge in areas that were now more productive, but the previous socioeconomic status quo, the settled agricultural communities with localized grazing lands, were starting to change. An increase in aridity and a major expansion of steppe grasslands may have led animal herders to engage in longer grazing routes. Some areas on the steppe became especially productive for those raising animals, particularly in places like the Minusinsk Basin and the Altai. Furthermore, domestication patterns may have changed as well. In the central steppes, there is some evidence indicating that sheep herding became more important than cattle herding, as sheep required less resources than their bovine counterparts, which was likely an important consideration in these changing times.

Now, these animal herders were spreading further and moving for longer periods of time. These herdsmen were using horses to maintain herds, and either rode on horseback or on chariots. Some of these herdsmen probably continued what was already a long-standing migratory process, that of Central Asia and beyond.

Such movements almost certainly led to an increase in competition, as groups began to vie for important grazing lands. We can imagine that in such an environment, motivated by these dramatic climate changes, tensions would’ve flared and violent conflict was almost certainly an end result. Now, these communities had to contend with new problems. There was scarcity in productive grazing land. With animals taking an even greater role in society, the threat of losing such animals was that much greater, and so cattle rustling and theft likely became even larger problems. 

In an interesting work by political scientists Einar Wigen and Iver Neumann, The Steppe Tradition in International Relations, we are given an interesting, theoretical approach to consider when thinking about this period of time. As these fledgling steppe societies began to contend with these new problems, Wigen and Neumann explain that:

“Pastoralism comes with a key collective-action problem, namely how to stave off cattle rustlers. One functionalist reading of this is that in a situation where cattle rustling is the major and constant threat, intergenerational male groups are needed for guard duty… We should therefore not be surprised to find that the triad of animals, brothers, and power were at the centre of Indo-European rituals.”

This political theory helps explain the emergence of several major institutions we’ll see in various steppe societies. As Wigmen and Neumann point out, one major institutional change would be the emergence of leaders and their loyal band of followers. Both scholars argue that the preceding hunter-gatherer societies could be more egalitarian, that such styles of food production reduced the rate of wealth accumulation and thereby inequality. As groups turned toward animal pasturing and as these pasturelands became more scarce, there could be those who would have had more access to land and to larger animal herds. Such individuals in turn had the capacity to loan out animals, to gain more in terms of animal products and trade goods, and therefore could become major individuals in their local communities. This would be the foundation for the positions of Chanyus and Khans. 

It seems natural that major leaders would attract warriors, followers, and close retainers. These individuals, typically men of military means, would act as a band of friends, comrades, and loyal warriors, and professor Christopher Beckwith uses the term comitatus when describing such groups. The comitatus is a tradition that we’ll see across the Eurasian steppe. We can think of Genghis Khan and his nokor, which included individuals like Jebe, Jelme, and Subutai. There is an interesting passage by the Ancient Greek author Lucian. Known as Toxaris, this piece dated to the 2nd century CE contrasts the nature of friendships between the ancient Greeks and the Scythians of the Pontic steppe.

In this piece, a Greek named Mnesippus is speaking to a Scythian named Toxaris. Mnesippus brings up a number of Scythian stereotypes, explaining that the Scythians are good at archery and military means. Toxaris however announces that the Scythians are better in terms of friendship.

“Well, which of the two is the more dutiful and pious in general, Greek or Scythian, we will not discuss just now: but that we [the Scythians] are more loyal friends than you, and that we treat friendship more seriously, is easily shown…Friendships are not formed with us, as with you, over the wine-cups... We wait till we see a brave man, capable of valiant deeds, and to him we all turn our attention. Friendship with us is like courtship with you: rather than fail of our object, and undergo the disgrace of a rejection, we are content to urge our suit patiently, and to give our constant attendance. At length a friend is accepted, and the engagement is concluded with our most solemn oath: 'to live together and if need be to die for one another.' That vow is faithfully kept: once let the friends draw blood from their fingers into a cup, dip the points of their swords therein, and drink of that draught together, and from that moment nothing can part them.”

The emergence of these steppe leaders and their comitatus bands is a development that I cannot stress enough. Under these leaders, the peoples of the steppe expanded, and this organization led to an increase in raids and military conflicts; such actions in turn would have increased the wealth and prestige of these leaders and their loyal followers. Many, I’m sure, would’ve wanted to emulate such a practice. The lures of power and wealth would’ve made many strive to be the chief or one of his retainers. 

We can find the growing significance of these leaders through archeological evidence, and I bring these institutional changes up because of their connection to what we’ll see in the Arzhan kurgan. In fact, the development of kurgans, these great burial mounds, is almost certainly a direct result of the growing prestige of these single leaders. In the 1000s BCE, these burial sites were originally made from stone and were relatively small. Eventually, these kurgans began to use wood, grew larger in size, and began to contain a number of valuable goods. Although more elaborate kurgans will be found during the Scythian era and onwards, the kurgans of the late Bronze Age still contained many treasures.

For instance, kurgans of the Tagar culture contained weapons and bronze artifacts. These included bows, arrowheads, daggers, axes, mirrors, cauldrons, and combs. More elaborate artifacts included bronze sculptures that depicted a sort of animalistic art. Horse gear could also be found in these burials. Kurgans from a few centuries later have even more elaborate finds. In Kazakhstan, we have the Shilikty tombs, which date somewhere between the 800s to the 600s BCE. In these burial sites, scholars found many precious artifacts including: “gold objects fashioned in the form of deer, entwined antlers, and other animal-style motifs, many with inlaid turquoise and semi-precious gems.” What is astounding is that these kurgans could now be spotted across the steppe. Archeologists have found kurgans in Tuva, in Siberia, in the Altai, and in the steppes of Kazakhstan and Ukraine.

Of particular importance is a kurgan that can be found in the modern day Republic of Tuva. Located on the banks of the Uyuk River, this region was a grassy river valley. Like the Minusinsk Basin that we mentioned earlier, the conditions here were perfect for nomadic communities with economies based on the herding of animals. Here, on the Uyuk River, itself a tributary of the wider Yenisei River, a great community had formed and sometime between 9th to 8th centuries BCE, an even greater leader had died, and this community was pooled its resources and manpower to create a great burial mound for him. This would be the kurgan of Arzhan 1. 

The kurgan of Arzhan 1 would perhaps be the most representative of the many kurgans we’ve discussed so far, and in many ways, it would encompass the many changes being felt on the Eurasian steppes. Discovered in 1971, Arzhan 1 was truly a site of beauty. I’m going to use the words of Professor Cunliffe here:

“Arzhan 1 was a massive kurgan, 110 metres in diameter and up to 4 metres in height. It was enclosed by a stone wall and covered by large stone slabs forming a platform. The complex internal structure focused around a central grave pit 5 metres square, set within a grave chamber 8 metres square… Around the central grave chamber a complex timber structure had been built. It was constructed of horizontally laid larch logs from trees 100 years old, carefully trimmed with their bark removed and arranged to create seventy or so roughly rectangular chambers.”

It’s clear that Arzhan 1 was a significant architectural site. It was intricate, carefully designed, and large. You can find pictures of both the site in its current state as well as diagrams showing it’s inner details, and frankly, it’s awe-inspiring to see. Many scholars have wondered if these intricate designs may offer more about the cultures living in this area. Some scholars believe that the organizational structure of the building may hint at religious customs. Within the kurgan, one could see substantial differences in architecture between the eastern and western ends. The eastern side of the burial contained a number of boulders that were laid out in a crescent shape, and some researchers believe that this may symbolize the movement of celestial bodies.

Even more intriguing and enlightening are the many, and I mean many, physical artifacts left behind. Sadly, Arzhan 1 had been looted long before its discovery in 1971, but there are still many archeological remnants that we can assess. Like other kurgans, there were a number of bronze and gold objects, pieces of jewelry, and horse gear. Some of these metal goods exhibited the animalistic art that we mentioned earlier.

However, physical objects were not the only things buried here. Obviously, there was the chief, but a number of other bodies have been found in the kurgan. These include the body of a young woman, presumably the chief’s wife or consort, the bodies of eight other individuals, and the bodies of six horses decked in golden horse gear. In another part of the kurgan, scholars unearthed seven human bodies and 160 horse corpses. Finally, we should also examine the debris left behind from the funeral feast. According to Professor Cunliffe, it is estimated that over 300 horses, as well as an unspecified number of sheep, goats, and cattle, had been killed for this final meal.

It’s already clear that whoever this leader was, he had a significant amount of influence over the local community. The size of his kurgan, the intricacy of its design, and the many artifacts found within it are clear signs of evidence. Furthermore, it is likely that the eight individuals buried near the chief represent his own loyal band of retainers, his comitatus. Again, the chief must’ve wielded substantial influence and charisma if eight individuals were willing to join their leader in the afterlife. 

Beyond these points, some quantifiable metrics can help us really understand just how much weight this single individual may have held. For instance, scholars estimate that over 6,000 tree trunks and around 300 stone boulders were used in the construction of the kurgan. Professor Barry Cunliffe tells us that, given such figures, it may have taken over 300 individuals and thousands of hours to complete the burial site.

The actual construction of the site was difficult and demanding, certainly, but a more striking facet comes from distance. Many artifacts and goods found in Arzhan 1 derive from places much further away. Many of the horses, for instance, likely came from regions that surrounded the Altai-Sayan. In the several chambers of Arzhan 1, archeologists discovered a number of artifacts that likely came from Kazakhstan, the Altai Mountains, the Minusinsk Basin, the lands of Tuva, and the steppes of Mongolia. One particular decorative stone found at the top of the kurgan depicts art that is strikingly similar to that of other stones found in northern Mongolia. Professor Claudia Chang makes an even more interesting point, noting that many of the gold objects found in Arzhan utilized metalworking techniques that at the time were more common in Anatolia, Mesopotamia, and China.

Whoever this chief was, he was clearly a man of great influence, respect, and charisma. Eight individuals readily joined their leader in the afterlife. Hundreds of individuals spent thousands of hours constructing this great kurgan. Even more individuals were involved in procuring riches that included gold and bronze artifacts, beautiful horse gear, and ceremonial weapons. Such goods seem to have come from far away places, and the fact that these goods came from far away places indicates a number of possibilities. One, the land of Arzhan 1 may have been connected to a wider trade route that connected the lands here to China and Mesopotamia. Two, that the peoples of Arzhan 1 engaged in long-distance raiding and looting. And lastly, this may indicate that the chief’s influence spread further than we truly know, and that these goods may have originated as a part of a tributary system. 

When we take a step back and examine Arzhan 1, we suddenly find ourselves in a world at the precipice. To my mind, Arzhan 1 represents a transitory period, an era of transience between the late Bronze Age and the future Iron Age. The climate was changing, and certain parts of the steppe were becoming conducive for humans. As animal herding became more significant, great leaders could emerge and this in turn led to a warrior elite. The comitatus, the loyal warband, became a key institution among many groups on the steppe. These warbands often consisted of mounted warriors that used weapons like the bow and arrow. Through a combination of diplomacy, raiding, and prestige, leaders and their comitatus could expand their influence and capture new territory for themselves. The kurgan therefore represented the achievements of such leaders. It was a physical manifestation of the political unit on the Eurasian steppe.

Among the many artifacts recovered from Arzhan 1, there are a number of bronze and gold objects that depict a stylized, animalistic art. One particular plaque made of bronze showcases a cat or lion-like creature wrapped in an ouroboros shape. I’ll include a picture of this and other artifacts in the transcript for this show, specifically on my Substack, so keep an eye out for that. 

This style of art almost certainly originates from the Altai-Sayan and may have its roots in cultures like that of the Tagar and Karasuk. More importantly, this seems to be the predecessor for what we call the Scytho-Siberian art style, which was defined by geometrically structured animalistic art that typically used bronze or gold. As you can tell by the name, this style would be pervasive across the western and central steppes, especially in the centuries to come. This means that across many kurgans in Ukraine and Kazakhstan, similar artifacts can be found. The question then is how did these cultural motifs move from the Sayan and Altai mountains to the plains of the Pontic?

The answer is quite simple. People brought these ideas. In the lands of Arzhan 1 and the Minusinsk Basin, we already know that conditions were conducive for population growth. With growing herds came growing mouths, and it seems likely that this change created internal pressures that pushed people outward. Some individuals, likely inspired by the wealth of their leaders, may have sought their ambitions westward. Particularly ambitious warriors may have rode on their own or in small bands to find their fortunes. Should the population grow too large far too quickly, some groups may have left in order to find their own pastures. This model implies that groups from the Altai-Sayan moved westward and introduced their culture to local groups in the Kazakh and Pontic steppe. This particular movement times well with the emergence of a group known as the Kimmerians, an Indo-Iranian group that blasted onto the scene by their invasion of Utartu in the ancient Near East sometime in 714 BCE. Some scholars believe the Kimmerians to simply be an extension of a wider Scythian culture, but we’ll cover those details in a later episode.

If this idea is true, then we can place the origins of the Scythians to the Sayan and Altai mountains, and if that’s the case, Arzhan 1 therefore represents the very beginning of the Scythian peoples. According to Professor Johannes van der Plicht, Arzhan 1 “remains the earliest Scythian (perhaps pre-Scythian) period monument in all Eurasia and assumes the key chronological position for the entire Scythian world.” Even if it isn’t the oldest site, it is a metaphorically important one. Here, we find a settlement showcasing a time in which institutions were solidifying. Key leaders and their warband of loyal followers were emerging. Such leaders were expanding their wealth and influence, likely creating systems of patronage and tribute. Trade was certainly evident, and we have signs of incredibly long distance commerce that included China and Mesopotamia. It is in these cultural developments that the Scythian peoples will emerge, starting first with the Kimmerians. We are finally at the Scythian dawn.

Next time, we’re going to talk about the Kimmerians in detail. We’ll examine who they were, their relationship to the wider Scythians, and what exactly happened at Utartu. That’s it for today. You can find me on social media on the normal places, and I want to specifically shout out the Substack, nomadsandempires.substack.com, because I finally have a book review on there. It’s about Professor Peter Frankopan’s general history book, The Silk Roads, and I encourage you to both read the review and grab the book! I’m going to be posting more articles and content on the Substack, so keep an eye out on that! Otherwise, happy New Year, and see you all next time on the windy plains of the Eurasian steppe!

Music:

Gavin Luke - Who We Are
Outro - Personal work