It is easy to see why HBO’s darkly sardonic ‘Succession’ was one of the most popular tv-series of the last decade.¹ We got to experience trappings of wealth that are otherwise unattainable to us – or at least to me – while being invested in a web of intrigue, betrayals, and parental issues that would even impress William Shakespeare. The heart of the show – so to speak, that is – is the relationship between Logan Roy, founder and CEO of a veritable business empire, and three of his four children. Through profanity laden rants and other varieties of abuse, Logan tries to prepare one of his children for the top role, though none of them ever lives up to his expectations.² But what if I told you that there are not only recent historical parallels to this entwinement of fierce power struggles and dysfunctional family dynamics?³ Indeed, the Roys might feel right at home in the Bronze Age. As the relationships within the royal family in the Bronze Age kingdom of Upper-Mesopotamia were perhaps as volatile as those between the Roys, be it less profanity laden – but only marginally so.

Though the kingdom of Upper Mesopotamia is not generally known to the average person in the twenty-first century CE, it was a big deal towards the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the eighteenth centuries BCE.⁴ And archeological excavations within the erstwhile territory of the kingdom, especially at Mari, have been very fruitful.⁵ But today, we are not only interested in such scholarly minutia. Because most people do not watch a tv-series like ‘Succession’ to learn more about the stock market and inheritance law – or at least not primarily for that reason. It is the larger-than-life characters and their vicissitudes that draw them in. And the Logan Roy of the kingdom of Upper-Mesopotamia, Šamši-Adad, would certainly qualify. He was considered such a successful ruler that several later Assyrian kings took his name.⁶ So let us do both in this week’s blog – a little bit of history and a little bit of drama. Two components that arguably get along better than either of these powerful families.

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The Kingdom of Upper-Mesopotamia

Since the fall of the empire of the Ur-III dynasty circa 2003 BCE, ancient Mesopotamia –which nowadays comprises modern Iraq and parts of Syria – had been divided in polities of various sizes, mostly city-states.⁷ And in one of these polities, probably Akkad in central Mesopotamia, Šamši-Adad inherited the throne around 1823 BCE.⁸ His reign did not have an auspicious start, though. As a few years later, the young monarch had to flee to the city of Babylon in order to escape Ipiq-Adad II, the conquering king Ešnunna.⁹ But only relatively shortly after this exile commenced, Šamši-Adad managed to become king of the city of Ekallatum in Upper-Mesopotamia and embarked on some conquests of his own.¹⁰ And in doing so he gained possession of important polities and cities. Like Aššur – known from later Assyrian Empire fame – and Šeḫna, which he renamed Šubat-Enlil.¹¹ Throughout these wars Šamši-Adad encountered fierce opponents, perhaps most prominently Yahdun-Lim of Mari– a king who was busy building an empire in the western parts of Mesopotamia.¹² But  Yahdun-Lim was eventually overthrown in a palace conspiracy and his son only managed to cling to power for two years, before he too was deposed. As a consequence, Šamši-Adad could march right in around 1782 BCE.¹³ And with this victory, the king of Ekallatum had now made his last important acquisition, the famous city of Mari along the middle Euphrates.¹⁴

The area now ruled by Šamši-Adad comprised the entirety of Upper-Mesopotamia, hence the modern designation of his kingdom.¹⁵ In this domain there were both sedentary communities, where people lived in villages and cities, and pastoral nomads.¹⁶ Being in the fourth decade of his reign and faced with such an expansive area and such a diverse population to rule, it is no wonder that the king decided to involve his sons in the day-to-day operation of his realm.

Šamši-Adad and His Sons

As with ‘Succession’, only some of Šamši-Adad’s children seem to be important to our story: Išme-Dagan, the older son, and his younger brother Yasmaḫ-Addu. The brothers seem to have been ambitious, but Šamši-Adad was not quick to give his sons responsibilities. They had to earn his trust first.¹⁷ And from the get go, our sources show a pattern of Yasmaḫ-Addu getting tasks that he does not fulfill satisfactorily, at least according to his father; like holding an important fortress.¹⁸ Yasmaḫ-Addu himself seems to have thought that his elder brother disparaged him in front of their father, in order to acquire the lands and duties that had been allotted to him. But Išme-Dagan guaranteed him in a letter that if he did covet the lands and duties of Yasmaḫ-Addu, he would do so openly – always a great reassurance!¹⁹

Eventually the entire kingdom, with the possible exception of the district around the city of Šubat-Enlil, were Šamši-Adad himself held court, was divided between the two brothers. Yasmaḫ-Addu ruled the west from the recently conquered city of Mari and Išme-Dagan was in charge of the east and Šamši-Adad’s old seat of Ekallatum – though their father kept wielding ultimate authority in all matters. And on a first glance, this appears rather necessary in the case of Yasmaḫ-Addu. Many administrators who were technically subservient to Yasmaḫ-Addu, tended to question his authority. Some of these men were the former rulers of the polities that surrendered to Šamši-Adad and were allowed to remain on their post within the large kingdom.²⁰ As such, Yasmaḫ-Addu often had to appeal to his father while dealing with such influential men, but he may not have liked all the answers that he got.

Sticks and Stones

Archeologists have found an enormous archive of letters in the remains of Mari, where Yasmaḫ-Addu once tried to rule. And through this archive we get an intimate insight – perhaps too intimate! – in the relationship between Yasmaḫ-Addu and his royal relatives. Many of the letters are those send from Šamši-Adad to Yasmaḫ-Addu and they are by the by rather harsh. An answer to one of Yasmaḫ-Addu missives contained the following passage:

How long do I have to guide you in every matter? Are you a child, and not an adult? Don’t you have a beard on your chin? […] Don’t you see that your brother is leading vast armies? So, you too, take charge of your palace, your house!²¹

Išme-Dagan, as you might have suspected from this letter, seems to have made a better impression on their father. And we know that Išme-Dagan assisted his father in impressive military victories.²² This treatment by his father, along with the apparent successes of his brother, seemed to have really gotten to Yasmaḫ-Addu. As he writes his father:

Am I (indeed) unable to take charge of my house and make decisions by myself? Although since childhood I grew up before daddy, now I have been cast away from daddy’s heart! I am daddy’s son; can I not sooth (him) by my words? […] Even if I do not reach (the level of) [Išme-Dagān’s] primacy, my father has counted me (as equal) with [him].²³

Worse still, Šamši-Adad seems to have forced his older son to partake directly in admonishing Yasmaḫ-Addu. As such, Išme-Dagan had to write similarly scathing letters to his little brother as his father did, a brother who evidently looked up to him. And this makes one wonder whether the relationship between Išme-Dagan and his father was perhaps as fraught as the one between Šamši-Adad and Yasmaḫ-Addu. Sadly, we lack the archives of Išme-Dagan himself. But we learn from the letters in the Mari archive that he occasionally wrote to his brother remorsefully, indicating that he had sent those unkind words on behalf of their father and promising not heed the old king in this matter any longer.²⁴

It appears that Yasmaḫ-Addu and the city he ruled, simply did not fit with Šamši-Adad’s view of manhood and how a polity should be run. The old king relished frugality and action, whereas Mari had long been known as a city of leisure and festivities.²⁵ As a result Šamši-Adad continued to question Yasmaḫ-Addu’s maturity, manhood, decisions, and the company he kept. And he did not refrain from interfering in matters without consultation, going as far as imposing another wife on Yasmaḫ-Addu, a woman named Beltum.²⁶ This marriage was meant to strengthen one of Šamši-Adad’s alliances, but it caused upheaval in the household of Yasmaḫ-Addu.²⁷ Though we also get a taste here of more functional family relationships, as our sources provide a glimpse of Beltum’s sunny disposition and the great love her father, one Iši-Addu, bore for her. As he writes earnestly to his new son-in-law:

I am placing in your lap my flesh and future, for this house has now become yours and the house of Mari has now become mine. Whatever you desire, just write me and I will give it to you.²⁸

This alone may indicate that Šamši-Adad might not have been entirely fair with respect to the actual acumen of his younger son. And indeed, many persons at Šamši-Adad’s own court seem to have preferred Mari and Yasmaḫ-Addu’s rule above his father’s austerity. A lot of servants therefore fled from Šubat-Enlil to Mari – to the great displeasure of the old king, of course.²⁹ Prompting him to write the following:

A steward and five cooks have fled. […] They come to you only for drinking and dancing.³⁰ They no longer have any superior or supervisor.³¹

Despite this all, both sons appear to have remained loyal to their father until the end. Though this did not prevent the kingdom from collapsing after the death of Šamši-Adad in 1767 BCE.³²

Conclusion: Not serious people?

Both sons would eventually fail to live up to Šamši-Adad’s legacy. A year after an illness took his father, Yasmaḫ-Addu was forced to leave Mari and his name disappears from our sources.³³ The city would soon after be incorporated in the growing empire of Zimri-Lim, who may have descended from Yahdun-Lim, the erstwhile rival of Šamši-Adad.³⁴ Išme-Dagan fared a little better and his career honestly deserves its own blog.³⁵ Because he kept coming back after setbacks that involved him being captured, exiled, and serving as a mere military leader for other monarchs. Though he did not escape the family tradition of being verbally abused. As during a stay in Babylon a prophet apparently foretold his doom in the harshest of words.³⁶ And while he could not hold the kingdom of Šamši-Adad together – or even the portion once allotted to him – Išme-Dagan managed to outlive more successful kings like Zimri-Lim and Ḫammurabi of Babylon.³⁷ The latter would create an empire throughout Mesopotamia and became the overlord of Išme-Dagan and the lands he then happened to rule around 1748 BCE. But Ḫammurabi seemingly kept the now elderly survivor in place as a local administrator. That being said, after the presumed death of Išme-Dagan during the reign of Ḫammurabi’s son and successor Samsu-Ilūna, neither the lordship nor the administration of the lands once ruled by Šamši-Adad – with the possible exception of Ekallatum – is explicitly connected to the descendants of his sons.³⁸

Were Šamši-Adad’s observations about his family uncharitable? Well, it was hard to maintain one’s rule in the Bronze Age under any circumstance. And like with the patriarch from ‘Succession’, it is obvious that the intuitions of Šamši-Adad himself were also not always on point. His attempt to create an administrator class that was loyal to him and his sons failed spectacularly, with several betrayals towards the end of the kingdom – including collaborations with the aforementioned Zimri-Lim.³⁹ This was not helped by the fact that many of the king’s sternly worded demands on Yasmaḫ-Addu appear to have indeed been unreasonable and even detrimental to the economy of cities like Mari.⁴⁰ All the while Šamši-Adad’s ceaseless military maneuvering helped the spread of disease.⁴¹ In addition, one could argue that even when things turn bad, profanity and insults are rather unhelpful. Though I can imagine that you might be skeptical towards this notion – we are on the internet after all, where rudeness sometimes appears to be the prime currency!⁴²

The careers of Šamši-Adad and his sons would probably lend themselves to an unequivocally great tv-series. A combination of ‘Succession’ and ‘Game of Thrones’, so you will, with the added benefit of telling a broad audience about history. And I think that there are many of these stories from the ancient Near East which are just waiting to be serialized or made into a major motion picture. The lives of the Hittite monarch Šuppiluliuma and his sons are another example. One of the sons, one Zannanza, even set out to marry Ankhesenamun, the widow of the famous pharaoh Tutankhamun, for crying out loud!⁴³ But that is a blog for another time.

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References

1. Andrew O’Hagan, “Scorpion Party”, The New York Review of Books 2023, 70 (13), p. 10.
2. Daniel Fienberg & Angie Han, “Succession: As HBO’s Hit Series Embarks on a Long-Anticipated Season Three, Will Logan Roy, His Scheming Children and His Sometimes-Loyal Consiglieres Be as Vicious, Hilarious and Tapped into the Zeitgeist as When We Saw Them Last, in 2019?”, The Hollywood reporter 2021, 427 (35), p. 69.
3. O’Hagan, “Scorpion Party”, p. 10.
4. Marc van de Mieroop, A History of the Ancient Near East (Chichester: Wiley Blackwell, 2016), p. 115-118.
5. Roger Matthews, “Peoples and Complex Societies in Ancient Southwest Asia”, in: Chris Scarre (ed.), The Human Past: World Prehistory and the Development of Human Societies (London: Thames & Hudson, 2018), p. 450-452.
6. Pierre Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons: The Rise and Fall of an Upper-Mesopotamian Empire”, in: Jack M. Sasson (ed.), Civilizations of the Ancient Near East (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1995), p. 873.
7. Ibidem, p. 875; Van de Mieroop, A History of the Ancient Near East, p. 67.
8. Nathan Wasserman & Yigal Bloch, The Amorites: A Political History of Mesopotamia in the Early Second Millennium BCE (Leiden: Brill, 2023), p. 297. I maintain the spelling ‘Šamši-Adad’, as this is the name that the king is most commonly known under. But a more accurate spelling would be ‘Samsī-Addu’, meaning “the god Adad is my sun” see: Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons, p. 873. This variety in spelling has probably to do with the Amorite origins of the name and the manner in which personal names in this language were often transcribed in cuneiform, see: J. Caleb Howard, “Amorite Names through Time and Space”, Journal of Semitic Studies 2023, 68 (1), p. 24; Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, p. 310; Mario Liverani, The Ancient Near East: History, Society and Economy, Translated by Soraia Tabatabai (New York: Routledge/Taylor & Francis Group, 2014), p. 20, note 3.
9. There is some discussion which conqueror Šamši-Adad had to flee, Ipiq-Adad II or Naram-Sin, see: Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, p. 298, note 24; Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons”, p. 873-874.
10. Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, p. 298-299.
11. Dominique Charpin, Hammurabi of Babylon (New York: I.B. Taurus & co, 2012), p. 26.
12. Van de Mieroop, A History of the Ancient Near East, p. 109.
13. Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, p. 301-302; Liverani, The Ancient Near East, p. 226-227.
14. Šamši-Adad’s influence naturally reached further then his borders, he even appears to have maintained contacts with Anatolia and Dilmun, the island where modern Bahrain is situated, see: Charpin, Hammurabi of Babylon, p. 31; Liverani, The Ancient Near East, p. 227-228.
15. Ibidem, p. 227; Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons”, p. 874.
16. Van de Mieroop, A History of the Ancient Near East, p. 116. Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, p. 65-88.
17. Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons”, p. 875; Liverani, The Ancient Near East, p. 227.
18. Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons”, p. 875; Van de Mieroop, A History of the Ancient Near East, p. 116.
19. Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons”, p. 876.
20. Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, 306; Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons”, p. 876-877.
21. Jean-Marie Durand, Les Documents Épistolaires du Palais de Mari: Tome 1 (Paris: Le Cerf, 1997), p. 138. As cited in: Van de Mieroop, A History of the Ancient Near East, p. 116.
22. Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, p. 227.
23. Durand, Les Documents Épistolaires du Palais de Mari, p. 143–146; Jack M. Sasson, From the Mari Archives: An Anthology of Old Babylonian Letters (Winona Lake: Eisenbrauns, 2015), p. 23-24. The clay tablet on which this letter was written, was rather damaged. See for the reconstruction that I present here: Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, p. 305-306.
24. Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons”, p. 881.
25. Ibidem, p. 879.
26. Van de Mieroop, A History of the Ancient Near East, p. 117; Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons”, p. 879-880; Liverani, The Ancient Near East, p. 227. There is some discussion whether this was the woman’s real name, see: Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, p. 309, note 72.
27. Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons”, p. 880.
28. Jean-Marie Durand, “Documents Pour l’Histoire du Royaume de Haute-Mésopotamie II”, MARI 1990, 6 (1), p. 282. As cited in: Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons”, p. 880.
29. Ibidem, p. 876-879.
30. For music at the court of Yasmaḫ-Addu, see: Nele Ziegler, “Music, the Work of Professionals”, in: Karen Radner & Eleanor Robsen (eds.), The Oxford Handbook of Cuneiform Culture (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), p. 289.
31. Georges Dossin, Archives Royales des Mari: Vol. 1 (Paris: P Geuthner, 1950), no. 28. As cited in: Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons”, p. 879.
32. For the scholarly debate around the reliability of this date, see: Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, p. 227, note 97. See also: Ibidem, p. 317 Charpin, Hammurabi of Babylon, p. 32.
33. Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, p. 317.
34. Ibidem, p. 316.
35. Liverani, The Ancient Near East, p. 228.
36. Jack M. Sasson, “Išme-Dagan on His Own”, in: Jack M. Sasson (ed.), Civilizations of the Ancient Near East (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1995), p. 882; Dominique Charpin et al, Archives Royales des Mari: Vol. 26/1 (Paris: Libr. Orientaliste Geuthner, 1988), nr. 371. As with Šamši-Adad, the spelling of the name ‘Ḫammurabi’ comes with a number of caveats, see: Howard, “Amorite Names through Time and Space”, p. 25.
37. Wasserman & Bloch, The Amorites, p. 323.
38. Ibidem, p. 294, 324-325. For more information on the spelling of this name, see: Giorgio Buccellati, “Eblaite and Amorite Names”, in: Ernst Eichler et al (eds.), Name Studies: An International Handbook of Onomastics (Berlin: De Gruyter, 1995), p. 859.
39. Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons,” p. 877-878.
40. Liverani, The Ancient Near East, p. 227.
41. Villard, “Šamši-Adad and Sons,” p. 882.
42. Whitney Phillips, This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things: Mapping the Relationship between Online Trolling and Mainstream Culture (Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2015), p. 2-3, 7-11.
43. Trevor Bryce, The Kingdon of the Hittites (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), p. 178-183. The widow was also known as Ankhesenpaaten, see: Ibidem, p. 179.