Just like every empire, the Assyrian state was based on the exploitation of local differences. A small elite managed to subdue larger groups, first internally, and then outside Assyria, in a process based on an increase of needs and expectations. The centre monopolised decisions, imposing them on groups that did not contribute to their formulation and were actually placed in a worse position because of these decisions. The centre also acquired wealth, taking it away from those who produced it. This system based on inequality was possible thanks to both physical and technical aspects: Assyria had a superior organisation, a better army, and a range of human and economic resources that was larger and more compact than those of the conquered groups.
However, an aspect that cannot be ignored in the maintenance of the empire was its ideological interpretation of reality. This view provided its centre with further reasons for its actions other than sheer convenience, and the exploited groups (who re-employed these ideas for the exploitation of other groups) with reasons to accept this unequal system, convincing them that it was also at their advantage. This process of Assyrian self-motivation seems to have worked. However, its effects on conquered groups remain debatable. It is certain that they kept their own ideologies, which justified their defeat in different terms than the ones used by the Assyrians. Apart from its success, the Assyrian elite developed an organic worldview, within which conquests became coherent and acceptable. The analysis of Assyrian ideology, then, can be broken down into a series of dualisms in terms of space, time, men, and resources.
This geographic duality saw a contraposition between an ‘internal’ world, which was ordered and civilised, and a chaotic, culturally backward periphery. The latter — be it the Iranian or Anatolian mountains, the Syro-Arabian desert, or the Lower Mesopotamian marshes — seems impracticable, unsuitable for living, sterile, and unproductive. The interaction between centre and periphery took place in two ways. The polarisation of centre and periphery (and its resources) already gave the latter a certain degree of functionality and a purpose. However, when the interventions of the Assyrian kings led to the expansion of the centre, they gradually reduced the chaotic periphery to the point of making it disappear completely. The king organised expeditions through the difficult routes leading to the far end of the world, where he left a boundary stele to demonstrate his right to universal control. In this way, an unknown world became known, an unproductive world became productive, an uninhabited world was colonised, and a hostile world had to submit to the might of the Assyrian king. Assyrian conquests were therefore seen as a way to bridge the gap between the centre and the periphery. This process made the latter more similar to Assyria, giving it the same functionaries, tributes and royal orders.
Apart from being limited in terms of space, the world’s correct functioning was limited in terms of time. In fact, the rise of the Assyrian empire brought about a phase of cosmic order, after which, if one was not careful enough, chaos could return. The current world was ordered because the gods (for the basic natural elements) and the ancestral heroes (for a variety of institutions) established the constitutive foundations of the empire. The role of the king was therefore twofold: to maintain in functioning order what already existed (restoring crumbling temples, ensuring the performance of festivals, and so on); and to introduce further innovative (or ‘creative’) elements. The latter role explains the kings’ common assertion of having been the first to introduce a certain institution, or the first to walk a certain route, or the first to introduce a certain type of workmanship or constructing a certain temple, and so on. The peak of the creative/foun-dational role of the king was the construction of a new capital in the centre of the world. The capital was to become the point around which the rest of the universe revolved, and whose construction required the contribution of men and materials from all over the world.
The third element of the Assyrian imperial ideology was centred on the diverse range of people conquered by the empire. Naturally, the Assyrians kept a clear distinction between them and the barbarians. Just like its internal world, so its people were the epitome of every positive quality, while all negative qualities typically characterised foreigners. The latter, then, had weird customs, spoke incomprehensible languages, and were seen as barely human. The typical moment of confrontation between these two worlds was war. On the one hand, the Assyrians were alone, certain of their technical and moral superiority, and their divine support. On the other hand, the enemies were always in large number, composite, and united into coalitions, in an effort to overcome in quantity their qualitative inferiority. However, once on the battlefield, they were irremediably overcome, so that it could not be said that a battle even took place, but only a devastating attack and the enemies’ flight.
The reason for this idea was that the Assyrian king had a direct and legitimate link with the gods, and with Ashur in particular. On the contrary, the enemies were ‘godless’ or were abandoned by their gods, or were supported by inferior deities. The Assyrians simply had to rely on their king, and in turn the Assyrian king simply had to rely on the god (who in fact claims: ‘Go, do not fear, I shall stand by your side’). The enemies, however, had to absurdly rely on the help of others, or on the inaccessibility of their lands or the number of their troops. The comparison between these two ‘faiths’, one being the correct one and the other simply delusional, brought an obvious outcome. However, through conquest and submission, even foreigners were believed to acquire more positive characteristics, as long as they remained loyal to the Assyrian king and submitted to becoming part of the empire. Therefore, foreigners were placed in new cities and houses, became part of the Assyrian administration, and were even integrated both in terms of language and aims, slowly becoming more ‘human’ and less barbarian.
Finally, as an obvious consequence of the spatial and human differences between the Assyrians and the rest of the world, there was the distinction between centre and periphery in terms of resources. The centre was an urbanised and agricultural region, where life was thriving and food was produced. The periphery was subdivided into several ‘monocultures’ (there were areas devoted to growing cedars, or cypresses, or to mining lapis lazuli or copper), and was thus an unsuitable living environment. In fact, who could live off cedar or lapis lazuli alone? Naturally, all these resources were seen as distributed throughout the periphery, so that they would eventually find their way to the centre.
This influx of raw materials from the periphery to the centre therefore gave the former some sort of dignity and purpose. Prior to the Assyrian ‘discovery’ of these resources, then, they were treated as if they had never existed. In return of this influx, the centre provided cultural and ideological contributions, such as protection, justice, and order. This interaction between material resources and ideological contributions could not have taken place anywhere else but in the centre and through the intervention of the central administration. Therefore, the latter stood as yet another proof (as if there was any need for it) of the central role of Assyrian kingship and its political power, and the inevitability of the empire’s expansion.
Whenever the Assyrians conquered a new territory, submitted new populations to their power, or forced a centralisation of new human and economic resources, they envisioned it as a necessary and benevolent act of civilisation and world colonisation. This process led to the unification of the entire territory under the only legitimate power in the name of the Assyrian gods. Therefore, these interventions were seen as instrumental for the completion of the gods’ creation and organisation of the world. Once the empire’s borders coincided with the far ends of the world, all the resources were gathered in the centre and every population was ruled by the only legitimate power, then this divine process of creation would have been deemed complete. Consequently, the world would have become perfect.
World History
