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While both historians and political scientists are concerned with understanding human societies and their pasts, they do so from fundamentally different angles. Historians focus on narrating events based on surviving records—chronicles, letters, artifacts, and official documents—aiming to piece together a coherent picture of what happened. Political scientists, however, approach the Past more analytically. They examine structures, relationships, ideologies, and socioeconomic conditions to reconstruct the forces that made historical outcomes possible, even when documentation is scarce, biased, or intentionally distorted (Moses & Knutsen, 2012).
This distinction is crucial when considering Iranian history, which remains profoundly under-analyzed in modern academic terms. Despite its vast civilization, legacy, Iran’s historical narrative is filled with significant gaps, unexplored periods, and uncritically accepted chronicles (Yarshater, 1975). Much of what is considered “history” has been handed down through manuscripts that have not been rigorously examined for accuracy, internal consistency, political propaganda, or religious bias (Daniel, 1979).
These sources were often produced by clerics, court historians, or later scholars operating within ideological frameworks, Zoroastrian, Islamic, or nationalist—each with their own agendas and exclusions. As a result, the lived experience of common people, the internal logic of popular movements, and the true nature of transformative figures like Behzādan (Abū Muslim) remain veiled behind layers of myth, distortion, or omission (Kennedy, 2004).
Here, the role of the political scientist becomes essential. Unlike historians, who may limit their analysis to surviving texts, political scientists attempt to reconstruct the underlying socio-political and economic realities—even when documentation is incomplete or compromised (Moses & Knutsen, 2012). By asking: Who had power? What was the economic structure? Who benefited? Who was excluded?—the political scientist begins to rebuild a picture of probable truth grounded in rational analysis rather than inherited narrative.
This method allows scholars to correct for historical silences. For instance, if no records exist from peasant uprisings, marginalized sects, or non-dominant ethnic groups, political science provides tools to infer their roles based on patterns of state formation, legitimacy crises, and resistance (Skocpol, 1979).
In the Iranian context, this kind of analysis is especially urgent. For over a millennium, shifts in power—from the Achaemenids to the Sassanids, from the Islamic conquests to the Safavids and beyond—have all been accompanied by deliberate rewriting or erasing of the Past to suit the new ruling ideology. Myths of divine kingship, sectarian righteousness, or civilizational superiority were often elevated over empirical truth (Kuhrt, 2007).
Thus, Iranian history cannot be understood through historical documents alone. It must be rationally reconstructed, and that task falls squarely on the shoulders of political scientists, whose job is to strip away the illusion of inevitability and reconstruct the socio-political logic of transformation and resistance (Daniel, 1979; Yarshater, 1975).
In conclusion, historians may tell us what is said to have happened. But political scientists ask why and how it happened and whether that narrative stands to reason. In a country like Iran, where memory has often been curated by power, political scientists offer a path back to the possible truths so that we might understand the Past more clearly and the present more justly.
The Behzādan (Abū Muslim) Revolution: A Rebirth of Iran through Mehr and Justice
It is historically inaccurate—and philosophically limiting—to call the mid-8th-century revolution the “Abbasid Revolution.” What occurred was not the triumph of one Arab dynasty over another but rather a full-scale civilizational upheaval, driven by the Ayyārān, led by Behzādan, son of Vendād (Abū Muslim), and rooted in the values of Mehr and justice, not tribal legitimacy (Kennedy, 2004; Daniel, 1979).
The True Identity of the Revolution: Ayyārān, Not Abbasid
Behzādan (Abū Muslim), likely no older than sixteen when he began his mission in Khurasan, was not an emissary of the Abbasid family nor a mere military commander. He was the voice of a reawakening Iran, speaking for a generation that rejected both the Sassanid caste hierarchy and the discriminatory Arab rule of the Umayyads (Kennedy, 2004; Daniel, 1979).
In its final centuries, the Sassanid system had devolved into an oppressive structure in which priests, warriors, scribes, and commoners were rigidly separated, and social mobility was nearly impossible. The Magi had become an authoritarian class, disconnected from the people (Boyce, 2001).
The Umayyads, while invoking Islam, ruled as an Arab supremacist state, where Iranian Muslims (mawālī) were treated as inferior. Their rule was secular in practice and extractive in nature, focused more on taxation and domination than on justice (Kennedy, 2004).
What Behzādan (Abū Muslim) did was remarkable: He united Zoroastrians, Christians, Jews, and newly converted Muslims under a shared vision of equality, drawing inspiration from both Mehr—the ancient Iranian principle of justice and communal ethics—and the Islamic idea of egalitarianism, which had yet to be truly implemented (Kennedy, 2004; Daniel, 1979).
He drew from his association with the Ayyārān, a vast and loosely organized brotherhood of fighters and social reformers, who for generations had acted as protectors of the weak, enforcers of honor, and guardians of moral resistance (Yarshater, 1975).
Strategic Leadership and Coalition-Building
Behzādan (Abū Muslim) did not impose his rule through sectarianism or brute force. Instead, he practiced strategic coalition-building. He chose to support the Abbasid family not because they were strong but because they were weak—a symbolic house of the Prophet with no significant military power or regional following (Kennedy, 2004).
By elevating them, he:
Avoided provoking rival factions (like the Alids);
Ensured that true power would remain with the movement itself;
Created a unifying figurehead around which diverse communities could rally.The Revolution as a Rebirth of Iran
This was not an Arab revolution. This was the rebirth of Iran—but a new Iran, not a restoration of the old Sassanid order. It was a society reimagined: no caste hierarchies, no priestly monopolies, no ethnic supremacy, only the principle of Mehr as the moral and political foundation (Kennedy, 2004; Daniel, 1979).
Even after his assassination by Caliph al-Mansur, Behzādan’s vision only grew stronger. The Abbasids, despite orchestrating his death, could not dismantle his legacy. On the contrary, they became increasingly Persian in their administration and culture (Kennedy, 2004).Cyrus, Behzādan, and the Legacy of Mehr
A Comparative Political Analysis of Iran’s Rebirth
Throughout Iranian history, a recurring civilizational force has shaped the emergence of justice-driven political orders: the philosophy of Mehr. Rooted in ancient Iranian thought, Mehr represents a constellation of ethical values—compassion, justice, unity, and social responsibility. Two pivotal figures embody this tradition: Cyrus the Great, founder of the Achaemenid Empire in the 6th century BCE, and Behzādan (Abū Muslim), the 8th-century revolutionary leader who overthrew the Umayyads. Though separated by over a millennium, their methods, principles, and legacies demonstrate how Mehr can act as a foundational force in rebuilding Iranian identity and offering a future inclusive governance model.
Cyrus the Great: Founding by Inclusion
Cyrus (r. 559–530 BCE) emerged from Anshan, a vassal state under the Median Empire, with no guaranteed path to power. Yet in 550 BCE, he overthrew his grandfather Astyages, uniting the Medes and Persians. His political genius was not only military but moral. Rather than ruling by domination, Cyrus built coalitions across cultures, earning respect from Babylonians, Lydians, and Jews alike. His capture of Babylon in 539 BCE was peaceful and liberatory: the Cyrus Cylinder records his restoration of temples and return of exiles—acts praised in the Hebrew Bible and modern scholarship as early forms of human rights (Kuhrt, 2007).
His vision of empire was inclusive and administrative, based on local autonomy, rule of law, and respect for diversity—a system unprecedented at the time. This was Mehr in practice: a form of leadership that substituted fear with dignity, empire with coexistence. Greek historians like Xenophon admired him as the ideal monarch (Cyropaedia), and Persians honored him as “Father of the Nation.” The Achaemenid system he founded endured for over two centuries, providing the infrastructure for what we now consider one of the world’s first multicultural empires.
The Revolutionary of Mehr Behzādan (Abū Muslim)
Fast-forward to 8th-century Iran under the Umayyad Caliphate. The Sassanid caste system had collapsed a century earlier, but the new Arab aristocracy replicated similar forms of social exclusion, treating Iranian Muslims as second-class citizens. In this context arose Behzādan, son of Vendād, better known as Abū Muslim al-Khorasānī. At just 16, Behzādan became a leading figure in the resistance centered in Khorasan, home to a vibrant mix of Persians, Arabs, and Central Asians.
Contrary to official histories that portray the Abbasid Revolution as an Arab-led succession, the reality was that it was an Iranian-led uprising orchestrated by Behzādan and the Ayyārān, a semi-clandestine fraternity grounded in pre-Islamic Iranian ethics and warrior codes of justice. These networks espoused Mehr—compassionate resistance to tyranny, protection of the weak, and communal unity.
Behzādan’s revolution united Zoroastrians, Jews, Christians, and newly converted Muslims, offering a socio-political platform rooted in equality, dignity, and resistance to both Arab tribalism and clerical domination. His leadership was so effective that by 750 CE, the Umayyad dynasty had collapsed. But the Abbasids did not create this victory—they inherited it. Behzādan, who had intentionally chosen a weak claimant (the Abbasids) to symbolize legitimacy without empowering tyranny, was assassinated in 755 CE by Caliph al-Mansur, who feared his popularity.
But Behzādan’s death did not end the movement—it deepened it. Across Iran, uprisings in his name multiplied. Zoroastrian priests like Sunpadh, populist leaders like al-Muqannaʿ, and later rebels such as Bābak Khorramdin all claimed descent or allegiance to Behzādan’s cause, highlighting the enduring cultural and political impact of Mehr as a revolutionary ethos (Daniel, 1979).
Shared Strategies and Civilizational Parallels
The parallels between Cyrus and Behzādan are striking:
• Improbable Origins: Both began as political outsiders. Cyrus rose from a minor kingdom; Behzādan emerged from a peripheral province with no noble title.
• Coalition-Building: Cyrus unified Medes and PersiPast Behzādan brought together ethnic and religious minorities. Both built broad-based alliances by invoking justice, not conquest.
• Mehr as Governance: Each rejected caste, tribal supremacy, or divine right. Their leadership was based on dignity for the governed, tolerance for diversity, and strategic humility.
• Enduring Legacies: Despite their deaths, their ideas survived. Cyrus’s administrative model influenced later empires (including Rome and the early Caliphates). Behzādan’s revolution seeded the intellectual and cultural Golden Age of Islam, especially under Persian bureaucrats and thinkers who shaped Abbasid Baghdad.
Mehr as a Future Political Model
The lessons of Cyrus and Behzādan are not confined to the Past. Mehr remains a living philosophy—secular yet deeply ethical, capable of guiding political and civil revival. Unlike systems based on religious dogma or ethnic exclusivity, Mehr thrives on inclusion, participation, and moral leadership. It is not accidental that both leaders succeeded at moments of imperial decline. Their triumphs offer a political template for post-collapse recovery: when authoritarianism collapses, only broad-based, ethical, and locally-rooted coalitions can hold the center.
For today’s Iran—and for the wider WANA (West Asia and North Africa) region—the path forward may lie not in Western liberalism or revivalist theocracy but in the revival of Mehr: a culturally resonant, historically tested approach to governance rooted in compassion, cooperation, and dignity. The youth-led resistance in modern Iran, with its demands for justice, gender equality, and political freedom, echoes the ethos of both Cyrus and Behzādan. It is not a break from tradition but a return to Iran’s most accurate political legacy.
Cyrus and Behzādan stand as pillars in the architecture of Iranian political thought. Both channeled the spirit of Mehr to defeat oppressive regimes, unite diverse peoples, and build enduring visions of justice. Their stories challenge the myth of inevitability in history, proving that radical hope can triumph through ethical leadership and inclusive coalitions.
Today, as Iran stands again at a civilizational crossroads, Mehr’s legacy offers more than inspiration—it offers a blueprint. Iran’s future may well depend not on reclaiming lost empires but on reclaiming the ethical imagination that once allowed a young prince and a teenage revolutionary to change the course of history.
