Episode 17: Scythians: Religion

We examine the religious beliefs of the Scythians, as well as thoughts of the afterlife.

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Transcript

Welcome back to the Nomads and Empires podcast, episode 17. Last time, we talked about the nature of warfare in Scythian society. We examined their tools, their weapons, their tactics. The Scythians are emblematic of other steppe groups that would come in time. However, and this may be an obvious point, we should not think of the Scythians solely in terms of their martial prowess. Though Greek and Roman authors may have viewed the Scythians as a horde of terrifying warriors, we should know by now that there is much more to these peoples than such generalized statements.

That’s why on today’s episode, we’re going to be examining the religious beliefs of the Scythians. It is a fascinating topic, and the Scythians once more show their diversity. Beliefs across the steppe likely deviated and changed, even if some similar characteristics were maintained. As history marches along, the Scythians will become influenced by Greek and Persian ideas, and such influences will manifest in their religious identity. 

To fully dive into this subject while recognizing the diversity of Scythian groups, we will split our discussion into several regions. First, we’ll take a look at the Scythians of the Pontic Steppe, a group that we have a plethora of information on. Authors like Herodotus actually noted a considerable amount of information on the deities and practices of these Scythians, and further information can be derived from linguistic and archaeological evidence. Next, we’ll examine the beliefs of Central Asian Scythians, such as that of the Saka groups. Finally, we’ll look into the far extent of the Scythians and analyze the religious views of those in the Sayan-Altai. Given the nature of our sources, there is going to be more on the Pontic Scythians, but we will give each region some amount of attention today. After all of that, I want to spend a little bit of time going over the actual ways in which people practiced these beliefs, including sacrificial and burial practices. 

That said, let’s first start off by asking ourselves about the very core of religious practice in this region and time. Core ideas likely existed across the steppe. At the highest level, Scythian groups appeared to have worshiped a pantheon of deities, and such a pantheon shows clear signs of an Indo-Iranian origin. At the head of this pantheon was a deity of fire, and this is an important point. Gods of fire were of supreme importance on the early Eurasian steppe. Such deities were generally incorporeal, acting more as a force or symbol than as a human-like being. Such a god was a manifestation of the political realm, and was considered the protector of both the state and the ruling elite. This god of fire was represented by a central hearth that resided at the settlement of the Scythian king; sacred oaths and agreements would be conducted on these fires. The very essence of the Scythian polity could be defined by the sanctity of its central hearth.

We are indeed talking about a physical fire pit, and the importance of this physical and spiritual hearth would come to play a key role across the steppe in later ages. The rulers of the First Turkic Khaganate are known to have maintained a physical hearth that housed wooden or felt idols. The Turkic Khagans would offer sacrifices to this fire, as it was believed that the hearth connected the physical world directly to the spiritual world of their ancestors. Like the Scythians, Turkic leaders also believed that proper maintenance of the hearth was necessary for their own good fortunes; Professor Findley recounts to us of a life force called “kut” that emanated from the hearth and how good “kut” was needed to “bring good fortune to a family, or… [to] convey the divine mandate of a ruler.”

Similar lines of connection can be seen in the next level of core deities. Here, below this primordial fire, the Scythians believed in a pair of beings: a sky father god and an earth mother goddess. For the Scythians, the “union” of this god and goddess would be instrumental in giving rise to all other aspects of the world, including other deities. Like the god of fire, we can find cognates in the spiritual beliefs of the Turkic Khaganate. The Turks believed in Tengri, the sky father, and Umay, the mother goddess. Indeed, the belief in an eternal sky father would be common throughout the steppes and across the ages. Tengri is likely a familiar name to many of you listeners, but some scholars take an even more controversial opinion here. Professor Christopher Beckwith makes the argument that the high position of Tengri on the steppes is a Scythian development; he specifically claims that the Turks would take the term Tengri from the Scythian word Tanjri.

Moving past the realm of gods and goddesses, the Scythians are also known for the maintenance of important religious sites. Although many Scythian groups were nomadic, it appears that several physical areas played a key role in religious belief. The Central Asian Saka created monumental stones; one site found in modern Turkmenistan was probably a “cult center for the nomadic tribes of the plateau beyond the Uzboi.” The Pontic Scythians are said to have a holy site somewhere near the Dnieper and Bug rivers. At such sites, animal sacrifices and shamanistic ceremonies likely occurred. Burial sites were also important. Kurgans filled with treasures of a Scytho-Siberian artstyle could be found all over the region, indicating, perhaps, some shared beliefs about the afterlife. From holy sites to earthen burials, we can clearly see some connections across the Pontic and Central Asian steppes.

Of course, these concepts, though somewhat common throughout the steppe, were also subject to regional differences. Groups along the Pontic grasslands were influenced by their Thracian and Greek neighbors, while those in Central Asia would be impacted by Iranian and Median ideas. The reverse flow, that of Scythian influence on these regions, was also true. With that said, let’s now turn our attention towards the Scythians of the Pontic steppe as we dive a little deeper into their specific beliefs and practices. 

The Pontic Scythians likely worshiped a varying array of gods and goddesses. As we discussed in the last episode, the world of the western steppe is defined by diversity; some groups were Scythian-adjacent, others were distinct in their socioeconomic practices, while others were not Scythian in the slightest. However, it appears that the Scythians here generally agreed on a pantheon of seven major deities. These deities in turn were divided into three tiers. At the top was Tabiti, goddess of fire and the central hearth. In the next level, we have Papaios, god of the sky, and Api, goddess of the earth. As we previously noted, the union of Papaios and Api, of the sky and earth, would give rise to a final rank of deities. In this tier, we have the gods Goiotosyros, Herakles, and Ares, as well as the goddess of Agrimpasa. 

Unsurprisingly, our main source for this information comes from Herodotus, which explains why we have Greek names for the deities. Indeed, every single god and goddess here is given a Greek equivalent. Tabiti is connected to the goddess Hestia, Papaios with Zeus, Api with Gaia, Goiotosyros with Apollo, and Agrimpasa with Aphrodite. Then we have two gods who we only know by their Greek association: Herakles and Ares. Such associations likely emerged from Greek interactions with the Scythians, as Greek writers attempted to reconcile Scythian beliefs within their own worldview. Centuries of cultural overlap may have also resulted in the Pontic Scythians connecting their own gods and goddesses within a Greek cosmological space. Scythian artifacts containing images of Greek deities hints at this acceptance of a shared identity between Scythian and Greek gods and goddesses.

With this in mind, let’s dive a bit deeper. Tabiti, as I’ve already mentioned, was a goddess of fire and represented the hearth. This connection to fire is made even more apparent from linguistic evidence. The Indo-European root word “tap” means “to heat,” and it is possible that Tabiti derives from the old Iranian word “tapayati” or “the heater.” Similar to the physical characteristics of fire itself, Tabiti was an incorporeal being, rarely depicted in artifacts and pottery. And yet, despite this near transient nature, Tabiti was perhaps the most important deity in the Scythian pantheon. Herodotus recounts to us an interaction between a Persian messenger and the Scythian king Idanthyrsus; the incident would have taken place during the Persian invasion of the western steppe in the late 6th century BCE.

Darius, through his messenger, hoped to goad the Scythians into a pitched battle. In this message, Darius even asserts himself as the master of the Scythians. King Idanthyrsus however refused such a battle, and noted that “For my masters, I count them to be Zeus [Papaios], who is my ancestor, and Hestia [Tabiti], queen of the Scythians. These only.”

Tabiti’s high placement, the queen of the Scythians, is fascinating. It is greater than the earth goddess Api. Tabiti was the representation of the Scythian polity. This connection is even more clear when we consider Tabiti’s connection to Hestia, a goddess who also protected families and the state. Thus, Tabiti protected the king, his family and his people, and this was represented by the central hearth maintained by the king. A further point to make about Tabiti is the presence of sacred objects that were kept near the hearth. These included a golden cup, a golden ax, and a golden plow. The origin of these items derives from a Scythian foundation myth, where these golden objects fell from the sky. These objects were lit ablaze in flames, and only the youngest of three legendary sons could take them. Through these items, and thus Tabiti’s blessing, the youngest son would become king of the Scythians. We’ll touch back on these origin myths in a later episode, but the connection between the divine fire of Tabiti and the legitimacy of Scythian kings is quite clear.

In addition to Tabiti, King Idanthyrsus gives special reference to Papaios as the ancestor of the Royal Scythians. Papaios appears in a number of Scythian origin myths. He is said to have consorted with Api, the earth goddess. In another myth, he mates with a river goddess, perhaps a daughter of the River Borysthenes. Through one of these unions, the royal line of the Pontic Scythians would emerge. Like other steppe groups, the designation of the Sky Father as a force of political legitimization should be noticed here. What is perhaps different is one key detail Herodotus mentions to us. You see, the pantheon of seven deities is a little incorrect. Herodotus details to us that the Royal Scythians also worshiped a god named Thagimasadas, a deity correlated to Poseidon. Poseidon, beyond his association with the sea, was also a god of horses, and so the connections between the Scythians and Thagimasadas make a lot of sense. When taken together, the Royal Scythians of the Pontic Steppe were connected to the gods in ways that increased their political legitimacy. Tabiti provided rulers with a connection to the spiritual world and offered them protection. Papaios offered Scythian leaders with a direct genealogical connection to the divine, while Thagimasadas, who is a little more murky, connected directly with the Scythian nomadic lifestyle. 

As we move to the third line of deities, we reach a group of beings that were less abstract and more humanlike. Agrimpasa, or Aphrodite, was the goddess of fertility and marriage; some scholars connect her directly to the Iranian goddess Arti. Agrimpasa plays an additional level of importance as she is credited with giving the Scythians the ability of divination. Herodotus explains that shamans known as the Enarees would divine the future through willow rods and splitting bark. 

We have less information on the god Goetosyrus, though his association with Apollo may indicate his status as a sun deity. Ares is also a god we have limited information on, though we can safely guess that he was a sort of war god. We know that the Pontic Scythians would worship Ares by creating mounds of brushwood. Sacrifices of horses and cattle would be conducted at these sites. Prisoners of war were also sacrificed. Finally, Herakles exists as a deity here and is sometimes connected by scholars to the name Targitaos. In some myths, it is Targitaos, rather than Papaios, who gives rise to the Royal Scythians. We’ll talk more about Herakles in a later episode. 

And so, that’s a quick summation of the pantheon worshiped by the Pontic Scythians. Herodotus makes it clear that all Scythians worshiped these gods and goddesses, though we should remain cautious about such blanket statements. We already know that the Royal Scythians worshiped an additional god not found in the main pantheon, that of Thagimasadas. I think the words from Brill’s Companion to Herodotus are a good reminder here: “It seems a safe guess that the religious beliefs of the various North Pontic peoples were animistic, with plenty of local peculiarities and an undogmatic capacity to absorb foreign elements.”

As we shift over to the central steppes, we are given much less information to work with. The groups here included a diverse array of people, and just like the Pontic region, they included Scythian peoples, Scythian-adjacent peoples, and non-Scythian peoples. Given that the pantheon we just discussed has Indo-Iranian origins, it is probable that many groups also worshiped these gods. However, there were those that differed in their spiritual practices.

One such group was the Massagetae, a people considered to be Scythian. The Massagetae are quite fascinating, and they would play a prominent role in world history through their leader Queen Tomyris, though that’s a story for later. According to Herodotus, unlike their Pontic brethren, the Massagetae only worshiped a single deity: the sun. To the sun, they would sacrifice horses. Scholars such as Abetekov and Yusupov connect this sun deity to the cult of Mithra. Therefore, beyond horse sacrifice, the Massagetae may have also practiced a form of fire worship, which in turn would connect them back to the Pontic Scythians and to their Indo-Iranian cousins. 

Another distinct development on the Central steppes would be the influx of a more structured religious presence. Zoroastrianism, which emerged perhaps in the sixth century BCE, would slowly influence some Scythians. Various Saka groups likely became practitioners of Zoroastrianism due to cultural diffusion, as Central Asia remained a porous area that allowed the Persians and Medians to interact with their steppe counterparts. Professor Christopher Beckwith even notes that Zoroastrian belief clashed directly with the worship of Mithra, so it is possible that religious conflict between the Zoroastrian Saka and the sun-worshiping Massagetae occurred, though this is purely speculation on my part. As far as physical sites go, we know of the existence of a monumental stone in northwestern Turkmenistan. This particular structure was likely a “cult center” used by the steppe groups of the region. Evidence of animal sacrifice has been found via archaeological research.

As we move away from the Central steppes, we return to the Altai-Sayan region. Although this is considered the main birthplace of the Scytho-Siberian culture, we actually have scant details on the religious practices of the groups that reside here. We can imagine that some believed in a pantheon of gods similar to what we found in the Pontic steppe. Perhaps the gods and goddesses here had more primordial origins, or perhaps outside influences from Mongolia and China reshaped these ideas. We really don’t know what people believed in.

Analysis of the Arzhan 1 kurgan reveals to us some potential details. As we may remember from episode 7, the Arzhan kurgan represents what may be the earliest Scythian site. This burial contained a number of amazing treasures and artifacts that exhibit the familiar Scytho-Siberian artstyle. It is the arrangement and layout of the kurgan that is of interest to us today.

According to Professor Barry Cunliffe, the Arzhan kurgan was constructed in a very particular way. The eastern and western parts of the kurgan are oriented slightly differently. Cunliffe even speculates that the placement of logs emanating along a single point may embody “a vision of the universe, with the plan of the timber structures representing the radiating rays of the sun.” One intriguing find is that of a deer stone that was set at the top of the burial. The deer stone depicted a number of animals, including deer and pigs. Scholars have sometimes wondered if certain animals may represent specific spiritual notions. Images of stags could represent something like that of a soul departing the world. The usage of animal motifs as spiritual representations could explain why such designs were prevalent on deer stones and as tattoos on various mummies. Bodies from the Pazyryk culture contained tattoos that depicted this exact iconography. The Al-Alakha female, better known as the ice princess, had one arm tattooed with deer symbols. It is even possible that this female was a shaman of sorts. 

I think this discussion works as a good segue. Throughout this episode, we’ve focused on the world of the heavens, but spiritual practices were equally important for one’s final moments on the earth. The lands of the underworld, the passage of spirits from life to death, were all key considerations for all individuals in this region. Across the steppe, we know that groups created great burial mounds known as kurgans. In other episodes, we’ve talked about their treasures and what they reveal to us about the material culture of these Scythian groups, but now I want to tie in our discussion of religion with what these kurgans actually represented. It is clear, from all of the evidence we’ve seen thus far, that the Scythians placed a significant degree of emphasis on death. How people were buried, why, and where were all important questions to many peoples living on the steppe. 

We can first start off by answering where kurgans are located. Kurgans have been found all over the steppe. The Solokha kurgan, dated to around the 4th century BCE, is located in the Zaphorizhzia region of Ukraine. The Berel kurgans of the Saka can be found near Almaty, Kazakhstan. And, we know of the Arzhan and Pazyryk kurgans in the Sayan-Altai region. A more interesting question is why specific areas were chosen. It is clear that steppe nomads sought to build kurgans near rivers and streams. In the Minusinsk region, a vast majority of kurgans were built along the Yenisei river and its tributaries. The same trend applies in the other parts of the steppe. In the Central steppe, Scythian kurgans lined with the Ural river, while on the Pontic side of things, kurgans could be found along the Don, the Kuban, and Dnieper rivers.

Once a site had been chosen, several kurgans would be built. Kurgans were generally built in groups, with a large mound surrounded by a number of smaller ones. In some particular areas, the density of kurgans was so high that they resembled necropolises or “grave landscapes.” One could see an area of rolling hills that stretched on for some while. In reality, they would all be graves. For example, in Kazakhstan, we have found over seventy of the aforementioned Berel kurgans. The tallest of these kurgans were about as high as a three-story building, with a base diameter of over a hundred meters. The Arzhan 1 kurgan measured at around 110 meters in diameter and 4 meters in height.

These kurgans could be constructed from stone, wood, or a mixture of materials. However, the upper portion was simply a roof for a wider system that was dug into the ground. As Professor Renate Rolle explains:

“The basic structural principle of the catacomb graves, which can, however, differ widely… consists of a descent, usually leading steeply down from the original surface, with a corridor or a short passage opening into a cave-like burial chamber. The descent usually has steps going down on the side, which made access easier… The descents are in fact shafts which go down between 33 and 49 feet deep. The underground passages are sometimes like tunnels, reaching the considerable length of 98 feet and occasionally branching off… The chambers themselves are spacious, usually rounded, hollowed-out areas, and further side chambers, alcoves, and other recesses are built into the walls.”

Interred in these graves were Scythian elites. The bodies of rulers have been accompanied by women, other men, and horses. Horse gear, jewelry, and golden artifacts have been found in many of these graves. It is evident that Scythians possibly believed that these items would join the deceased in the afterlife. Professor Rolle even speculates that some Scythians may have feared retribution from evil spirits; the items thus offerings of appeasement in the hope that the dead would be too distracted by gold and jewels to enact vengeance on the living. Indeed, scholars like Claudia Chang even posit that the kurgans themselves acted as reminders; commoners over the generations would commemorate the leaders of the past. However, as time passed, other connotations would slowly emerge around these graves. Contemporary folk stories have mentioned strange sights and sounds emanating from these burial sites, perhaps the sounds of spirits still feasting in the afterlife?

Now, our discussion has focused on the construction of kurgans and the items placed within, but we actually have some interesting information on the mourning practices of the Scythians. These death rituals would have taken place in the lead up to placing of corpses in the kurgan. According to Herodotus, the Pontic Scythians have a very established funerary tradition. Upon the death of a king, the Scythians would cut open the corpse and take out the innards. The body would then be cleaned and preserved with wax, incense, anise, and other materials. From there, the king’s corpse would be placed on a wagon, and he would be paraded throughout his lands. After forty days had passed, the king would be ready for his burial. 

The king would be placed in the innermost chamber of the kurgan. A number of other individuals would join the king in the afterlife. We are told that the king’s wife or concubine, his “wine-bearer, cook, groom, valet, and message-bearer” were all strangled and buried with their liege. Archaeological evidence also suggests that a celebratory feast would be held in honor of the deceased king. This funerary feast was held outside of the kurgan, where vast quantities of horses, goats, sheep, and cattle were all killed. Professor Cunliffe points out that there may not have been just one feast, and that the evidence can suggest either a single banquet, or a number of celebratory feasts held over a period of time. We know that the Scythians would commemorate the deceased a year after the burial, so it is possible that they conducted several feasts in this time. 

Herodotus recounts to us an interesting tradition that would take place one year after the death of a king. Once a year had passed, the Scythians would strangle fifty able-bodied men and fifty horses. These individuals and animals would be preserved in a manner similar to the king. The Scythians would then place the horses and men on wooden stakes, with the strangled men seemingly riding on top. In this way, the kurgan would be surrounded by a host of ghostly riders. As Professor Role describes, “seen from a distance, these riders, arranged in a circle round the foot of the mound, must have given the eerie impression of being alive.”

Such were the practices of these who we can assume were in a privileged class. Thankfully, we are told about the burials of those from more humble backgrounds. 

“But as to the rest of the Scythians, when they die, their nearest relatives carry them around among their friends on wagons. Each friend receives and entertains those who follow the procession and offers a share of all the food to the dead man, the same as to everyone else. For forty days all these people who are not kings are carried round in this way, and then they are buried. When they have buried the dead, the relatives purify themselves as follows: they anoint and wash their heads; as to their bodies, they set up three sticks, leaning them against one another, and stretch, over these woolen mats; and having barricaded off this place as best they can, they make a pit in the center of the sticks and the mats and into it throw red-hot stones.” 

Once again, the idea of a forty day spiritual period rears its head. Furthermore, we get some indication of ritualistic cleansing, which I can imagine was also present during the burials of more elite figures. There are some other interesting tidbits that I’ve not mentioned. In some of these burials, we have found hemp seeds, indicating the potential use of cannabis in spiritual and funerary practices. In others, archaeologists have found severed fingers. The reason for such self-mutilation is unknown, but we can speculate that such extreme action may have represented a sign of devotion to the dead ruler.

To close this section, I want to highlight this observation. Most of what we’ve discussed so far comes from Herodotus, and therefore refers to the cultural beliefs of the Pontic Scythians. What is interesting is that across the steppe, there remain common practices. For instance, many kurgans contain horse remains, food, and stone markers placed on top of the site. Most importantly, I believe these kurgans maintained a high level of symbolic significance across the Eurasian grasslands. They were testaments of rulership, markers of place and time, and proof of the Scythians’ existence. Thus, I will end with a quote. The following passage once again details the message King Idanthyrsus would give to the messenger of Darius, leader of the Persians.

“If you need must come to fight with us quickly, there are our fathers’ graves. Find them and try to ruin them, and you will discover whether we will fight you or not-for the graves. Before that, we will not fight, unless some argument of our own takes possession of us. That is all I have to say to you about a fight.”

And I think I’ll leave us to ponder on that quote. Throughout this episode, we talked about the different religious ideas that permeated across the steppes, save for Mongolia. We’ve seen the various gods and goddesses, sacrificial practices, and spiritual motifs. We talked about Scythian shamans and Scythian burials. It is an area rich in diversity and yet held together by a tapestry that would showcase common motifs throughout the ages. There would be a sky father, an earth mother. There would be a reverence for ancestors and a deep caution for the world of the dead. Outside influences would push their way into the grasslands, though slowly for a time. 

Today, we talked about the spiritual world of the Scythians. 

Next time, we will examine something a bit more physical, though perhaps deeply related. I want to actually dive into the Scytho-Siberian artstyle I’ve mentioned so often. We’ll look at the defining features of said art, the outside influences that would impact it, and why we believe in this shared cultural continuum from the steppes of Ukraine to the Sayan-Altai.

Finally, I just wanted to say that this podcast has received a huge jump in viewership, and I couldn’t be happier. Thank you so much to everyone that has listened, and to all of you who have sent questions and corrections. It’s been a blast working on these episodes, and I hope you continue to enjoy what I’ve got!

And with that, thank you again. See you all next time on the windy plains of the ever-lasting steppe.