1. Introduction: Bridging the 11th and 21st Centuries
Abolfazl Beihaghi was far more than a court secretary or a meticulous chronicler; he was a "multi-dimensional man" whose gaze pierced the veil of political maneuvering to witness the eternal drama of the human soul. His magnum opus, Tarikh Beihaghi, ostensibly a record of the Ghaznavid dynasty, functions in truth as a map of the collective unconscious. Writing from the vantage point of the 11th century, Beihaghi captured the volatile intersections of power, cruelty, and grace, providing a narrative that transcends its era to speak directly to the psychological architecture of the 21st-century man.
The objective of this analysis is to conduct an archaeological excavation of these historical narratives through the lens of Carl Jung’s analytical psychology. We shall treat the figures of the Ghaznavid court—Sultans, Viziers, and commoners alike—not merely as historical relics, but as living embodiments of archetypal forces. By examining the Persona, the Shadow, the Anima, and the Animus, we can begin to understand the "drama of power" as an externalization of the internal struggle for Individuation.
Ancient literature is not merely a collection of stories; it is our "collective unconscious" and a "treasure of wisdom." As Chekhov famously posited, man becomes better only when you show him what he is like. Beihaghi’s History serves as this mirror. It reveals that the 11th-century courtier and the modern professional are bound by the same psychic gravity. The quest for wholeness—the balance of the "hardness of soil" and the "softness of rain"—remains the ultimate human imperative.
2. The Persona of Power: Masks of the 11th-Century Court
In the hyper-stratified, lethal environment of the Ghaznavid court, the Persona (the social mask) was a psychological necessity for survival. For the figures of Tarikh Beihaghi, the Persona was the interface between the fragile ego and a society that demanded absolute roles: the "Great King," the "Loyal Minister," or the "Rigid Courtier."
The Sovereignty of the Mask
Sultans Mahmud and Mas'ud were possessed by the "mask of power" and the "mask of toughness." Society and the structures of the caliphate expected a sovereign to be a monolith of resolve, devoid of the "feminine" traits of hesitation or mercy. However, as Jung observed, when the ego identifies too closely with the Persona, the individual is hollowed out. Sultan Mas'ud’s tragedy was his inability to peek behind his own mask of toughness. This rigidity made him susceptible to the "incitement" of those like Bo Sahl Zuzani, who used the King’s own Persona against him to orchestrate the downfall of rivals.
Hasnak’s Final Performance
The trial and execution of Hasnak the Vizier offer a profound study in the "clinging to the Persona." Even as he moved toward his destruction, Hasnak meticulously maintained his public image. Source Section 27 notes that upon appearing before the tribunal, he wore "Mika’ili boots" (of a new, prestigious make) and a "Nishaburi turban." These were not merely clothes; they were the artifacts of a man who refused to let his soul be stripped before his body was. To a Jungian analyst, this is the "dignified mask" held firmly against the encroaching Shadow. Hasnak knew that in the courtly world, to lose the mask was to lose the self before death even arrived.
Bo Sahl Zuzani: The Aristocratic Deception
Bo Sahl Zuzani serves as the dark crucible in which the Ghaznavid Shadow is most violently distilled. Beihaghi describes him as a man of noble birth, an imam-zadeh, a man of letters (adib), and a learned scholar (fazel). This was his Persona—the "aristocratic mask." Yet, Beihaghi is quick to expose the rot beneath. He notes a "spite and wickedness" (zararat) that was "firmly rooted in his nature" (mo'akkad).
Beihaghi’s observation that there is "no change in God's creation" (La tabdil li-khalq Allah) regarding Bo Sahl’s nature aligns with the Jungian concept of an innate, dominant temperament that resists the refining fire of the Persona. Bo Sahl did not integrate his nature; he used his "learned" mask to wait for kings to strike their servants so he could "leap from the corner" and inflict additional pain.
The Wise Old Man’s Rebuke
In this theater of masks, Khwaja Ahmad Hasan emerges as the archetype of the Integrated Wise Old Man. He is the only figure capable of seeing through Bo Sahl’s performance. During the tribunal, when Bo Sahl’s lack of self-control causes him to insult Hasnak, calling him a "dog of a Qarmatian," Khwaja Ahmad Hasan delivers the ultimate psychological critique: "In all things, you are incomplete." This "incompleteness" is a direct reference to a failed process of individuation. Khwaja Ahmad Hasan, who balances power with a cautious mercy, recognizes that Bo Sahl’s Persona is not a bridge to society, but a shield for a fragmented, malicious interior.
3. The Shadow’s Grip: Bo Sahl Zuzani and the Cruelty of the Unintegrated Self
The Shadow represents everything the individual refuses to acknowledge about themselves—the repressed instincts, the capacity for cruelty, and the "wickedness" that the Persona attempts to bury. In Tarikh Beihaghi, the Shadow is not merely a hidden trait; it is a predatory force that, when unintegrated, consumes the carrier.
The Anatomy of Malice
Bo Sahl Zuzani’s Shadow was not merely political; it was pathological. Beihaghi describes him as a man who "lacked compassion" (dalsuzi) and lived for the "thirst for revenge" (tashaffi). When the Sultan’s anger flared against a servant, Bo Sahl’s Shadow found its outlet. He did not seek justice; he sought the "pleasure of the strike." This is the Shadow in its most primitive state—projecting its own internal "zararat" (wickedness) onto the "fallen" victim.
The Symposium of the Shadow
The most chilling manifestation of Bo Sahl’s unintegrated self occurs during the infamous drinking party after Hasnak’s execution. In Jungian terms, alcohol serves as the solvent of the Persona, allowing the Shadow to erupt without restraint. During this gathering, Bo Sahl had Hasnak’s severed head brought out in a box (makabbah), hidden from the initial view of his guests. He described it to the company as "fresh fruit" (now-baaveh) to be consumed.
This was a "Shadow Symposium." Why did Bo Sahl need his guests to see the head? To a Jungian, this act was a desperate attempt to validate the Shadow’s victory. By forcing others to witness the "fruit" of his malice, he sought to normalize his own darkness. However, the reaction was the opposite; his friend Bo l-Hasan Harbali was "horrified" and "lost his state" (az hal beshod). Bo Sahl’s laughter at this horror is the sound of a man completely possessed by his Shadow. He was no longer a person; he was the vessel for a "confirmed wickedness" that even death could not satiate.
The Futility of the Dark Pursuit
Beihaghi, the narrator-philosopher, steps back from this carnage to provide the archetypal moral. He recognizes that both the victim and the victimizer are ultimately swallowed by the same historical unconscious:
"He went, and this group who made this trick also went, may God have mercy on them. And this is a legend with much to learn from. All these causes of contention and conflict for the sake of the scraps of this world were set aside. Oh foolish man who ties his heart to this world! For it gives a blessing and takes it back uglily."
For Bo Sahl, the Shadow provided a temporary sense of power, but it ultimately left him "captured" by his own deeds. He failed to see that by destroying Hasnak, he was merely decorating his own psychological prison.
4. The Developed Animus: The Sovereign Wisdom of Mothers
In Jungian psychology, the Animus is the masculine spirit within the female psyche, representing Logos: reason, will, action, and the ability to derive meaning from chaos. In Tarikh Beihaghi, the most "individuated" figures are often the mothers of those who fell, women who surpassed the "masculinity" of the men around them through their psychological resilience.
Hasnak’s Mother: The Sovereignty of Logos
When the news of Hasnak’s execution finally reached his mother after months of concealment, she did not surrender to the "jaza'" (weakness/wailing) that the 11th-century society expected of women. Instead, she exhibited a "developed Animus"—a triumph of Logos over the raw emotional devastation of the Anima.
Her reaction was not the absence of pain—Beihaghi notes she "wept with such pain that those present wept blood"—but she transformed that pain into a statement of sovereign meaning:
"Great man was this son of mine! A king like Mahmud gave him this world and a king like Mas'ud gave him that world."
By framing the execution not as a defeat, but as a transition from a temporal kingdom to an eternal one, she utilized Logos to override the physical and emotional trauma. She refused to be a victim of the Sultan’s power; she redefined the very nature of that power. Beihaghi notes that "every wise person who heard this, approved." She had achieved a level of individuation that the vengeful Bo Sahl could never grasp.
Asma and the "Fighting Spirit"
Beihaghi draws a parallel to Asma (Mother of Abdullah ibn Zubair). When Abdullah feared the mutilation of his body by his enemy Hajjaj, Asma provided the "guiding wisdom" of the Logos. She famously told him:
"The slaughtered sheep feels no pain from skinning."
This statement is the clinical peak of the Animus. It is a logic that transcends the physical vessel (the Anima's domain of feeling and body) to focus on the "soul of the warrior." Asma’s logic was so potent that even Hajjaj, the epitome of the brutal Ghaznavid-style power, admitted that if women like her and Aisha had been men, the Umayyad caliphate would never have reached its heights. In these women, the "masculine" traits of resolve and reason were more purely distilled than in the men who wore the crowns.
The Rarity of the Individuated Life
Beihaghi reflects, "Between men and women there is a great difference." This is not an 11th-century chauvinism, but a psychological observation on the rarity of individuation. He is pointing out that most men (like Bo Sahl) are slaves to their Shadow, while these rare women have integrated their Animus to reach a state of "Fighting Spirit" that renders them untouchable by worldly tragedy. They are "individuated" because they have balanced their internal opposites.
5. Harun al-Rashid and the Eruption of the Suppressed Anima
While the mothers represent the developed Animus, the story of Caliph Harun al-Rashid and Ja'far Barmaki illustrates the catastrophic danger of a suppressed Anima—the feminine spirit in the male psyche representing Eros: connection, emotion, feeling, and the personal bond.
The Sacrifice of Eros for the Persona
Harun al-Rashid was the most powerful Caliph of Baghdad, a man who built a "Golden Age" on the "Logos of Power." His relationship with Ja'far Barmaki was, according to historical rumors cited in the sources, a deep and personal bond—the manifestation of Eros in Harun’s life. However, Harun allowed his "mask of the all-powerful Caliph" to dominate his psyche. To protect his Persona and the "rights of the Caliphate," he sacrificed his Anima; he murdered his closest friend.
Harun became a "victim of his own power-hungry shadow." By prioritizing the political mask over the personal connection, he severed his own capacity for life. He chose the "Rigid Senex" (the hard, old king) over the "Puer" (the spirit of friendship and life).
The Return of the Repressed
The tragedy of Harun is the "late eruption of a suppressed Anima." Years after the slaughter of the Barmakids, Harun heard a story of a man from Basra who risked death to stay loyal to Ja'far's memory. Upon hearing of this unwavering loyalty and the "rights" Ja'far held over the man, Harun wept.
These tears were not merely the grief of an old man; they were the "eruption of the repressed Eros." In his pursuit of absolute sovereignty, Harun had built a "Concrete Dam" around his heart. The tears were the first crack in that dam. He realized that in killing Ja'far, he had killed the only part of himself that was truly alive. He had the power of the world, but he had lost his soul to the "tragedy of the unwept tear." He failed the process of individuation because he could not allow the "softness of rain" to touch the "hardness of his soil" until it was too late.
6. Individuation: The Patient Tree vs. The Concrete Dam
The central metaphor of this analysis, derived from the synthesis of Beihaghi’s accounts, is the contrast between the Patient Tree and the Concrete Dam. This illustrates the psychological health—or lack thereof—in the figures of the 11th century.
The Concrete Dam (e.g., Harun al-Rashid / Bo Sahl) | The Patient Tree (e.g., Mother of Hasnak / Asma) |
Rigid & Inflexible (صلب): Relies entirely on the Persona of power. It appears impregnable but is brittle. | Flexible & Resilient: Rooted in the "soil of Logos" but nourished by the "rain of Eros." |
Suppression of the Anima: Rejects emotion and connection as "weakness." | Integration of Opposites: Balances the "masculine" resolve with "feminine" depth. |
Cracks under Pressure: When the suppressed Shadow or Anima erupts, the entire structure collapses into regret or madness. | Bends but does not Break: Can endure the "storm of tragedy" (the gallows) because it has internal flexibility. |
Power-Oriented: The goal is the maintenance of the mask and the destruction of enemies. | Meaning-Oriented: The goal is the realization of the self and the acceptance of "God's creation." |
Individuation is the process of moving from the "Concrete Dam" to the "Patient Tree." It requires the thinking-oriented man (the Logos-driven Harun) to allow feeling (Eros) to emerge, and the feeling-oriented woman (the mourning mother) to allow thinking (Logos) to provide structure. The mothers are "Patient Trees" because they have reached peace with their internal Animus; the men are "Concrete Dams" because they are possessed by a Persona that forbids the heart to speak.
7. Contemporary Reflections: The 'Superman' and the Tragedy of the Unwept Tear
The psychological pathologies of the 11th-century Ghaznavid court are mirrored in the 21st-century pursuit of the "Superman" persona. Modern masculinity often prides itself on the "suppression of the Anima," confusing rigidity for strength.
The "Superman" and the Rigid Senex
The modern man who "does not cry" is not a figure of strength; he is a figure of the "Rigid Senex"—the old, hard king who has lost his connection to the "Puer" (the spirit of youth and feeling). The narrator of the source provides a poignant anecdote: after a motorcycle accident involving a teenager, the narrator comforted the boy and told him, "Men don't cry." He felt a surge of pride in his own "strength," believing he had upheld the masculine mask.
The Courage of the Tear
Upon reflection, the narrator realizes this was not strength, but a "failure to reach peace with the Anima." He asks: "Which is harder: to maintain the mask of strength, or to have the courage of Harun's late tears?"
For a man who has spent decades building the "Concrete Dam," not crying is easy—it is a habit of the mask. The true challenge of individuation is to allow the "late eruption" to happen before it becomes a post-mortem regret. To be an "integrated man" is to have the courage to dismantle the "Superman" persona and acknowledge the "Shadow" and "Anima" within. True strength is not the absence of tears, but the integration of those tears into a life of meaning.
8. Conclusion: The Final Lesson of the Gallows
Tarikh Beihaghi is a profound psychological document masquerading as a history book. Through the tragedies of Hasnak and the Barmakids, Beihaghi shows us that "knowing what we are" is the only path to becoming better. Hasnak’s execution was a historical failure of the state, but his mother’s reaction was a psychological triumph of the individual. She stood as a "Patient Tree" in a world of "Concrete Dams," proving that meaning can be found even in the shadow of the gallows.
To live an individuated life is to move beyond the simple masks of "King," "Minister," or "Strong Man." It is to recognize that we are a "treasure of wisdom" and a "collective unconscious" waiting to be integrated.
Three Pillars of the Individuated Life
- Balance of Logos and Eros: The integration of the "hardness of soil" (reason, will) with the "softness of rain" (emotion, connection). We must be capable of both the warrior’s resolve and the friend’s empathy.
- Integration of the Shadow: Acknowledging the "zararat" (wickedness) within our own nature. If we do not acknowledge the Shadow, it will erupt, like Bo Sahl’s, in acts of senseless cruelty when the Persona is lowered.
- Transparency of the Persona: Ensuring the social mask (the Mika’ili boots and Nishaburi turban) is a reflection of the true self, not a shield to hide an "incomplete" soul. The mask should serve the man, not the man the mask.
In the mirrors of history provided by Beihaghi, we see ourselves. We see our capacity for the "Concrete Dam" and our potential for the "Patient Tree." The quest for power is a legend that ends in "scraps," but the quest for the self is eternal. As we look upon the figures of the 11th century, we must ask: Are we building a dam that will crack, or are we planting a tree that will endure?
---
A note to the possible readers who have a special seat on my eyes (this is not an illicit sentence, it's a Persian metaphore or proverb that says you're too respected by me to sit on the ground, come I have my eyes to be your chair):
The original essay, whic is written in Persian, was not an AI spam piece of thing rather an idea that came upon my psyche while reading the book itself. Since I have an LLM entrance exam coming I have little time to translate my pieces to English. Therefore, Gemini was used to change the shapes of words in a way that an English reader would get the core idea. The important thing was to make the world know a bit more about Beihaghi, and not getting visitors or stuff. I believe this use of technology is, just like the essay itself, a novel endeavour though the AI one wasn't done by a man rather a bunch of mechanical 'beasts' much better in terms of being peaceful and generally good! I love you people. Truly I have no ide on how to appereciate your time.
Yours truly, AYoonesi
Shiraz, Iran
Comments
Post a Comment