Counted among Japan’s most enigmatic religious figures, the komuso monks walked feudal Japan with faces hidden underneath woven-basket hats, choosing to use their breath not for religious sermons but for playing the flute. Emerging around the Edo Period (1603–1868), they transformed woodwind music into melodious meditation, and wandering into spiritual discipline. Rooted in the Fuke school of Zen, they are called monks by tradition but not by strict definition. In reality they were neither full Buddhist clergy nor laymen, occupying a kind of religious liminal space. This is their story.

From Grand Temples to Dirt Roads: The Many Paths of Japanese Buddhism

Buddhism first arrived in Japan in the 6th century from India via China and Korea, and immediately began transforming the country. Instead of following a single doctrine, Japanese Buddhism evolved into a vast branching tree of schools, traditions, and lifestyles.

Early Buddhism mainly found support among the elites, the only ones who had the time and classical education to read and understand the sutras. But this severely limited the religion’s reach. Between the 8th and 14th centuries, new schools of Buddhism emerged around the country, each one taking radically different approaches to fulfilling Japan’s spiritual needs.

Tendai and Shingon Buddhism, for example, emphasized esoteric rituals, studies, and a grand cosmology. Pure Land Buddhism, on the other hand, attracted millions by simplifying spiritual salvation to one simple mantra and faith in the Amida Buddha. Nichiren Buddhism confined devotion to the Lotus Sutra. Zen Buddhism, introduced in the late 12th century, appealed strongly to the warrior class by emphasizing discipline, introspection, and simplicity.

But even distinctive schools were not safe from fracturing, which is what happened with Zen. Some practitioners pursued enlightenment through seated meditation in grand temples, while others embraced unconventional paths, taking their faith on the road. This spiritual diversity made Japanese Buddhism less of a single religion and more of a living, constantly evolving ecosystem. And this fertile holy ground eventually gave rise to the mysterious komuso monks, who considered music sacred.

Monks of Straw Mats and Emptiness: The Birth of the Komuso

The word “komuso” literally translates to “monk/priest of emptiness,” which is, in proper academic terms, “very cool.” But the name was not meant to be poetic. It was actually an accurate expression of their beliefs. Emptiness (mu), in the Japanese Zen sense, refers to the dissolution of ego, attachment, and fixed identity, a.k.a. the proverbial “becoming one with everything.” This was signaled by the monks’ woven-basket hats known as tengai, which obscured the face, thus suppressing the self.

With these obstacles removed, the monks believed that they could seek out enlightenment more easily through real-world experiences rather than purely theoretical studies. Though commonly referred to as monks, with the character for “priest” even appearing in their name, the komuso were not recognized as such by many of their Buddhist brethren. They existed somewhere between clergy and lay practitioners, both religious devotees and secular wanderers.

The komuso trace their origin to 15th-century beggar-monks known as komoso, or “straw-mat monks.” These figures wandered the countryside playing simple flutes while begging for alms (the only way they were allowed to make money) and carrying rolled straw mats that allowed them to sleep wherever they found themselves. Socially marginal and often viewed with suspicion (feudal Japanese authorities were extremely distrustful of people who did not stay in one place), the komoso originally had no formal religious identity. But, with time, they started to absorb Zen traditions as the school spread beyond temple walls.

The transformation of these individuals into the komuso during the Edo Period was primarily the result of a shifting political landscape. After the end of the tumultuous Warring States period, the Tokugawa shogunate unified a fractured country and ushered in an era of peace… that also put vast numbers of samurai out of work. This sudden surplus of trained warriors posed a serious threat to the nascent stability of the realm. The komuso system was the solution: a controlled outlet that absorbed masterless warriors into a disciplined, supervised way of life. For many former samurai, joining the komuso meant exchanging the sword for the flute while retaining a sense of honor, structure, and purpose.

Membership of the komuso was eventually restricted to those of samurai lineage after the group was incorporated into the Fuke school, a branch of Rinzai Zen Buddhism. Although never fully recognized as an orthodox Zen school by the Buddhist establishment, Fuke Buddhism did receive official sanction from the Tokugawa government, granting them rare privileges like the right to travel freely across Japan at a time when movement was strictly controlled.

In return, the komuso were strictly regulated and, according to rumors, sometimes expected to report on conditions in the provinces, which has occasionally gotten them accused of being ninjas. But the komuso’s main “weapon” was not the shuriken. It was the flute.

When Breath Became Prayer

What truly distinguished the komuso was their practice of suizen or “blowing Zen.” Unlike other monks, they did not chant sutras, study scriptures, or conduct any sanctified rites. Instead, they sought enlightenment through the shakuhachi flute. Playing a single note with absolute concentration was believed to be a sufficient path to achieving enlightenment. For the komuso, sound itself was meditation.

Therefore, to understand the komuso, we must first understand the shakuhachi. This intriguing bamboo flute is named for its standard length: one shaku and eight (hachi in Japanese) sun, for a total of about 54.5 cm or 21.4 inches. The shakuhachi was a very simple and impermanent instrument (its most basic form could be made in minutes), which both suited the austere monks perfectly and also neatly encapsulated their philosophy. For the komuso, the characteristics of the shakuhachi mirrored the human condition. Because of this, the flutes were treated as sacred tools capable of guiding their players towards enlightenment.

The core musical practice of the komuso consisted of honkyoku solo compositions passed down within the Fuke tradition. These pieces were not meant for entertainment or public display. They were exercises in concentrated awareness, intended to unify breath, body, and mind. Control of breathing was paramount, with long, unbroken exhalations during the honkyoku demanding both physical discipline and mental fortitude.

The outward appearance of the komuso reinforced their inner discipline. To onlookers, the monks’ tengai hats appeared mysterious and otherworldly and there were many stories about them, like how they were supposed to shield the komuso’s “magical” flute techniques from the general public. But to the wearers, the tengai was simply a constant reminder to leave their ego behind, to not fall for the trappings of vanity, and to forget about their previous high social position as samurai.

Komuso lived as wanderers. Without the hat, there would be no outward difference between them and common vagrants. But samurai honor is a powerful, hard-to-let-go, mostly made-up thing, so any tool that helped a former warrior get in a monk’s headspace was very useful indeed.

The komuso monks traveled alone or in pairs, never in groups, and were forbidden from remaining in one place for more than a single day. Moving through towns and villages, they, like their komoso predecessors, could only earn money from receiving alms and other forms of charity by playing the non-meditation notes on their shakuchachi.

Their priestly robes, basket hats, and flutes together made up their “three tools,” everything a person needed to be a komuso monk. It complemented their “three seals,” which were official travel documents that also verified a person’s membership in the ranks of komuso. Buddhist schools tried not to antagonize the shogunate but often insisted they were above their laws, so it is fascinating just how much government control the komuso had to live with.

The Lingering Sound

The komuso were paradoxical figures. Most embodied discipline and austerity but there are records of some abusing their privileges and behaving disruptively. This tension between spiritual ideals and human reality is another thing that makes them so unique and adds to their mystique. It is a shame that they are not around anymore. At their height, there were more than one hundred komuso temples across Japan, but during the Meiji Period (1868–1912), feudalism, the samurai class, and the Fuke school were all abolished, and with them so were the basket-hat-wearing wandering monks.

However, some modern monks still try to keep the traditions of the komuso alive, albeit outside of any official religious structure. The “emptiness monks” also survive through their shakuhachi traditions, with the honkyoku repertoire serving both flutists and practitioners of alternative forms of meditation, reminding us that enlightenment is not always found in silence.

Grigori Rasputin was a Siberian peasant and holy man of incredible charisma, poor hygiene, and notoriously bad teeth. Revered as a man of God, reviled as a shameless womanizer, and infamous for his exceptionally heavy drinking, Rasputin defied expectations by rising from humble peasant origins to become one of the most influential—and divisive—figures in late imperial Russia. In the final years of the Romanov Dynasty, he became part of the inner circle of Tsar Nicholas II and his wife, Alexandra, gaining extraordinary political influence. For a time, he was considered to be the de facto power behind the throne. On the night of December 30, 1916, he was brutally murdered by a group of young aristocrats, fearful of his growing power and influence. The precise circumstances of his death remain shrouded in mystery to this day.

Rasputin’s Rise

Grigori Rasputin, the infamous, unsavoury, “mad monk” of late-imperial Russia, was brutally murdered on December 30, 1916. Born into poverty in the remote village of Pokrovskoye in western Siberia, he ascended, against the odds, from humble peasant stock to the highest circles of imperial power. His abrupt fall from grace marked the impending collapse of the Romanovs and imperial Russia itself.

As a youth, Rasputin was said to be defiant and unruly. Accounts of his early life suggest that he was drawn to petty crime, fighting, and vodka. In his 20s, he underwent a rapid religious conversion. Despite marrying young and fathering several children, he abandoned family life in search of religious devotion.

He spent years wandering the Russian countryside, living as a “Strannik”—a holy wanderer—sleeping in barns, forests, and monasteries and preaching mythical interpretations of Orthodox Christianity. He drank a lot of vodka, and his charismatic intensity, wild appearance, and piercing gaze left a deep impression on all he met.

Rasputin eventually made his way to St. Petersburg, the heart of Russian imperial power. In 1905, with Russia in the grip of revolution, he met the Imperial family just days after his arrival. Before long, his influence was such that he was advising Tsar Nicholas II on matters of national policy (Braithwaite, 2016).

Meanwhile, Tsarina Alexandra Feodorovna, desperate for relief from the suffering of her hemophiliac son, Alexei, became convinced that Rasputin possessed miraculous healing powers after he managed to ease the boy’s pain during an acute episode. The Tsarina came to revere Rasputin not only as a healer but as a holy man sent by God.

However, beyond the walls of the winter palace, lurid tales of Rasputin’s exploits spread like wildfire. His eccentric behavior, open promiscuity, and nocturnal drunken escapades stood in stark contrast with his self-styled image as a man of God. Dangerous rumors swirled that Rasputin was the lover of the Tsarina herself.

When the Tsar left St. Petersburg in 1915 to lead Russian forces in World War I, many feared Rasputin’s influence and control over the Tsarina. With Alexandra now acting as de facto regent, Rasputin was accused of wielding the real power behind the throne (Thomas, 2020). Demands from Russians across the political spectrum to remove him from power—by any means necessary—soon reached a fever pitch.

Assassination Attempts

Rasputin spent years as a “holy wanderer” before arriving in the capital. Though he had no formal ties to the Orthodox church, he successfully presented himself at the Imperial court as a prominent mystic and religious healer. Once in St. Petersburg, he was quickly drawn to the temptations of city life.

At the height of his powers, the streets outside his apartment thronged with devout followers of the mysterious holy man, known to have the ear of the Tsar. Up to 400 “Rasputiniki” had been known to gather before sunrise, sometimes waiting for days just to catch a glimpse of him wandering back home—“stone drunk” (Welch, 2014).

Yet, in the final months of his life, he grew increasingly paranoid, and not without cause. Aware that he was amassing a number of powerful enemies, he became reluctant to leave his flat. Over the last two and a half years before his death, at least ten attempts had been made on his life (Welch, 2014). Some were strange—he was allegedly run down in the street by a sled and frequently received threatening telephone calls, cursing him and declaring his days were numbered. Other attempts were more serious.

The first major attempt occurred in July 1914. Outside his home in the Siberian village of Pokrovskoye, Rasputin was stabbed in the stomach by 33-year-old Khioniya Guseva, a peasant woman and former follower of his holy man rival, Sergei Trufanov, better known as Iliodor. Rasputin survived the attack despite the severity of his injuries. He conceived that Iliodor was behind the attack, though Guseva doggedly claimed to be acting alone. Following the incident, Iliodor fled Russia.

In 1915, Rasputin caught a woman leaving his flat in St. Petersburg and became suspicious. When he ordered her to “drop what she was concealing in her muff,” a gun fell to the floor (Welch, 2014). The final—and ultimately successful—attempt to kill Rasputin was carried out in 1916 by a pair of young Russian aristocrats: Prince Felix Yusupov, the wealthiest man in Russia, and Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich, a first cousin of Tsar Nicholas II.

The Yusupov Plot

By late 1916, Rasputin had become a lightning rod for resentment within the Russian nobility. Seen as a corrupting influence at the heart of the Romanov court. His perceived manipulation of Tsarina Alexandra, his flagrant debauchery, and his growing political sway grew increasingly intolerable. What followed was one of the most infamous murders in Russian history.

The widely known account of Rasputin’s murder comes from Prince Felix Yusupov’s own memoir, published in 1928. According to his account, Rasputin was lured late in the evening to his residence at Moika Palace, where, after some cordial formalities, he was plied with cakes and wine laced with cyanide. When the poison appeared to have no effect, Yusupov and his accomplice, Grand Duke Dmitri, shot him at close range and left him for dead.

This, however, was not enough to kill the Mad Monk. Rasputin reportedly sprang up and attempted to flee the scene. He was pursued across the palace courtyard, shot again, and brutally beaten. Incredibly, he was still alive. His assailants then bound him and threw him into the nearby ice-cold Nevka River. When his body was found several days later, the autopsy showed that he had died by drowning (Thomas, 2020).

A 1917 commission into Rasputin’s murder included testimony from Rasputin’s niece, Anna Vyrubova, that it “struck her as odd” that Rasputin would be invited to Yusupov’s residence so late at night. She apparently urged him not to go. Yet, much of the additional detail in Yusupov’s account, beyond Rasputin’s death, is widely regarded as fabrication.

Yusupov’s sensational account, and his open delight in being known as the man who killed the Mad Monk, transformed Rasputin into a near-mythical, superhuman figure. His narrative no doubt served a dual purpose: it amplified the threat Rasputin was believed to pose to the empire, and simultaneously cast Yusupov as a patriotic hero. Yet, for all its drama, it was, at best, only partially true.

The Death of Rasputin

Despite the folklore surrounding Rasputin’s death, the facts are ultimately less sensational. The official investigation into his disappearance, launched by Minister of the Interior Alexander Protopopov, began when a brown boot was retrieved from the Nevka River, and blood was noticed on the railings of Petrovsky Bridge. The police were called in, and Rasputin’s body was soon retrieved.

An autopsy was conducted the same day. Dr Dmitry Kosokotov reported that Rasputin had been shot three times: once in the chest, once in the back, and once, believed to be the fatal shot, in the forehead. No traces of poison were found in his system, nor was any water found in his lungs, suggesting that he was dead before he was thrown into the river (Reynolds, 2016).

The established facts are as follows: Rasputin was invited for a late-night supper at Yusupov’s palace, attended also by Prince Yusupov himself, Grand Duke Dimitri Pavlovich, and Vladimir Purishkevich, a monarchist Duma Deputy. There may have been others present. During the gathering, Rasputin was shot and killed. His body was then disposed of in the nearby Nevka River. Based on the forensic evidence, the most obvious cause of death explanation is execution by a “contact gunshot wound to the forehead” (Byard, 2025).

An intriguing subplot is that a British spy named Oswald Rayner, a close friend of Yusupov’s, was also present and delivered the fatal shot. Tsar Nicholas II himself complained to the British Ambassador, George Buchanan, that he believed British intelligence had played a role. The working theory was that Rasputin opposed war with Germany and was aiming to negotiate a peace deal. The claim was flatly denied by the ambassador, and hard evidence of British involvement remains elusive (Cook, 2004; Reynolds, 2016).

The public’s reaction to Rasputin’s death was deeply divided. Russia’s aristocracy and political elite largely celebrated his demise. In contrast, many peasants, who saw Rasputin as a spiritual figure and one of their own, mourned his loss (Harris, 2016). The Romanovs, particularly Tsarina Alexandra, were devastated. She arranged for Rasputin to be buried at her summer palace. However, following the breakout of the 1917 Revolution, the Romanovs were executed, and Rasputin’s remains were exhumed, burned, and destroyed by revolutionaries (Braithwaite, 2016).

Bibliography

Braithwaite, R., 2016. Rasputin review – how myth and murder created a Russian legend. The Guardian, [online]. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/nov/06/rasputin-douglas-smith-review-myth-murder-russia-mad-monk-biography-romanovs [Accessed 28 May 2025].

Byard, R.W., 2025. The death of Rasputin – A forensic evaluation. Forensic Science, Medicine and Pathology, 21(1), pp.492–501. doi:10.1007/s12024-024-00793-9.

Cook, A., 2004. To Kill Rasputin: The Life and Death of Grigori Rasputin. London: The History Press.

Harris, C., 2016. What Really Happened During the Murder of Rasputin, Russia’s ‘Mad Monk’? Smithsonian Magazine, [online]. Available at: https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/what-really-happened-during-murder-rasputin-russia-mad-monk-180961572/ [Accessed 28 May 2025].

Reynolds, P., 2016. The Murder of Rasputin. National Archives, [online]. Available at: https://blog.nationalarchives.gov.uk/murder-rasputin/ [Accessed 28 May 2025].

Thomas, H., 2020. The Murder of Rasputin. Library of Congress, [online]. Available at: https://blogs.loc.gov/headlinesandheroes/2020/10/the-murder-of-rasputin/ [Accessed 28 May 2025].

Welch, F., 2014. Rasputin: A Short Life. London: Short Books.

The Heian period was a significant period in classical Japanese history that ran from 794 to 1185. It came after the Nara period and started when Emperor Kammu, the 50th Japanese emperor, moved Japan’s capital to Heian-kyō (now called Kyoto). Heian means ‘peace’ in Japanese. The new capital Heian-kyō, meaning the city of peace and calm, was built on a flat grid architectural pattern.

Kammu first tried to establish the capital in Nagaoka-kyō in 784 but disasters and problems there compelled the emperor to move it to Heian-kyō in 794, where it remained as the capital until 1868. The move also helped the emperor to separate his court from the powerful Buddhist groups. So, what was the Heian period known for?

Less Outside Influence and a New Culture

The Heian period was a time in Japanese history when Chinese cultural trends became less common and a more native culture began to develop. The changes became even more pronounced after official missions between Japan and China stopped in the late 9th century. Among the biggest cultural changes that occurred during this period was the emergence of the kana writing system, which made writing in Japanese easier.

The development led to the rise of waka poems and literature such as tales (monogatari) and diaries (nikki). The Japanese style of painting called yamato-e also emerged during this time. Two main kana writing systems, hiragana and katakana, emerged early that changed things.

Hiragana, in particular, allowed people to write the way they spoke, and with it came the rise of books in Japanese, mostly written by women in the court who did not learn Chinese, unlike the men. Court women of the late 10th and early 11th centuries shared their thoughts on life and love at the Heian court in books like The Pillow Book by Sei Shōnagon. Lady Murasaki Shikibu’s book from the 11th century called The Tale of Genji, written around 1008 to the early 1010s, also provided a rare glimpse into royal life at the court. It is often regarded as the world’s first novel. Both books are among the most famous in Japanese history.

The Rise of the Fujiwara Family

Even though the Emperor of Japan held the official title of ruler, the Fujiwara family held the true power. Marriages between the Fujiwara clan and the imperial household gave the family a foothold in court politics that grew stronger with each generation. Cultural life across the country, as a result, shifted noticeably under their watch. Michinaga, the most powerful Fujiwara leader, ran court affairs for roughly three decades, starting in 995. Emperors born outside Fujiwara bloodlines eventually took enough ground to break the clan’s hold on power.

The Fujiwara trend started when Yoshifusa, a Fujiwara, stepped into the role of regent for young Emperor Seiwa in 858. His nephew, Mototsune, went further by creating the office called the kampaku in 880 which allowed a non-royal to govern alongside a fully grown emperor.

The End of the Court in Heian-kyō

Because the rulers in Heian-kyō neglected the countryside, the samurai (warriors) hired by local wealthy families to protect their lands grew into their own class that held land. Clashes between them soon reached the capital in 1156 when warriors from the Taira and Minamoto families battled in the Hōgen Rebellion. The situation led to a major war called the Genpei War that spanned from 1180 to 1185. It came to an end when the Minamoto family won following the Battle of Dan-no-ura. After that, Minamoto no Yoritomo started the Kamakura shogunate, Japan’s first military-led government.

Changes in Religion

When it came to religion, Buddhism continued to spread in Heian society, mainly through monks like Kūkai (774 to 835 CE) and Saichō (767 to 822 CE), who founded the Shingon and Tendai sects. This happened after they returned from study trips to China. There, they learned fresh ideas and practices. Shingon Buddhism, in particular, used unique rituals and art that made it very popular among the elite.

From the 10th century onward, Pure Land Buddhist teachings grew very popular, and Genshin (942 to 1017) was a key figure in spreading them. Pure Land ideas, which centered on faith in Buddha Amida, became widespread among ordinary people who sought comfort in the difficult later years of the Heian period. A common theme in the books of that time was that life was short.

Running from 710 to 794 CE, the Nara period had a significant impact on Japan’s early development. Picking up right where the Asuka period left off, the period gave rise to some of the most popular literary works that Japan has ever produced. Some of the most famous holy monuments and ancient architectural works in the country today were also built during that era. Notably, many of the social changes that came about during this period influenced Japanese culture for centuries. So, what actual developments was the period known for?

A Capital Modeled on Tang, China

Major changes in the government ultimately led to the creation of the royal capital at Heijō-kyō in AD 710. Streets in Heijō-kyō followed a unique grid pattern with the royal palace sitting at the northern end of the city. The design borrowed heavily from city-planning ideas that were used in China at the time. The new capital was the center of the country’s government and gave the emperor greater control over faraway lands. Roughly 100,000 people called the city home and made up close to 2 percent of Japan’s total population. About 10,000 of the residents worked in government jobs.

The Ritsuryō System of Government

During its era, the Nara government operated under the ritsuryō system that ranked people according to social classes based on their lineages. But there was another dynamic as well. Those who had studied Chinese or Buddhism could gain power. Notably, the new (Taihō Ritsuryō) set of written laws based on Chinese law replaced old procedures for handling disputes. While written laws had probably started earlier, the Taihō Code was more elaborate. The later years of the following Heian period saw a slow fading of Chinese influence on laws, as well as many of the other borrowed concepts and cultural practices such as writing styles.

The Establishment of Buddhism

Another significant cultural change of the Nara era was the adoption of Buddhism. The Korean kingdom of Baekje had brought Buddhism to Japan as far back as the 6th century, but it didn’t really take hold among the people until the Nara period, when Emperor Shōmu took it up with great enthusiasm. Shōmu and his Fujiwara wife were true believers and actively promoted Buddhism. At the time, pushing the religion was also a strategy to strengthen Japanese institutions. Emperor Shōmu called for the building of local temples (kokubunji) all across Japan to keep the gods happy and guide the nation toward better times.

The Great Buddha of Tōdai-ji

During Shōmu’s reign, workers completed Tōdai-ji, the great Buddhist temple. The name translates roughly to the Eastern Great Temple. The temple housed within it a gilt-bronze Buddha standing 16 metres tall, depicting the Vairocana form. Shōmu is primarily remembered for commissioning the statue which remains to be the largest historical bronze Buddha in Japan. The dedication ceremony of the Buddha was led by a senior holy man from India while musicians from across East Asia performed. Besides this, Nara pulled in art forms and ideas from places as far as Persia, Korea, and China, all flowing in through the Silk Road. Today, there are more than 1,300 years’ worth of art and architecture in Nara.

Changing Women’s Leadership Rights

The Nara period is known for having three women who actually ruled as empresses namely, Gemmei, Genshō, and Kōken. Kōken ruled in two separate periods from 749 to 758 CE and then, under the name Shōtoku, from 764 to 770 CE.

Complications to the arrangement came about when Dōkyō, a Buddhist monk, crossed paths with Kōken in 761. Her push to help the monk rise to power put him on a collision course with the most powerful people at the court. Shōtoku had a well-known and controversial relationship with the Buddhist priest and even chose him to take over the throne after her, but the court completely rejected the idea and Dōkyō was sent away into exile. Her choices sent huge shockwaves through Nara society and led to women being banned from taking the throne and Buddhist priests being kept out of government roles. It would take another 859 years before a woman sat on the Japanese imperial throne again.

A State Road System to Enhance Tax Collection

Trade and government work picked up steadily through the Nara years, with new roads connecting the capital to regional centers and making tax collection far less of a headache. To improve military and administrative communication within the provinces, the government built a network of rest stops along the main roads that connected the capital to regional government centers. The roads linking Nara to provincial capitals helped to improve communication and made sure that rice taxes reached the capital instead of being taken by local leaders.

As part of his relentless march west, Genghis Khan devastated large parts of what is today Russia and Ukraine. His army’s destruction of Kyiv is considered one of the most traumatic moments in that city’s history before the Russian Civil War and the Second World War.

The Mongols on Europe’s Frontier

In the early 13th century, the Mongol army of Genghis Khan burst out of its heartland in present-day Mongolia and advanced southward and westward. His death in 1227 did not end the Mongol’s lust for expansion. In the late 1230s, Batu Khan, Genghis’s grandson, expanded beyond the Volga River and began to conquer large swaths of Eastern Europe.

During the early 1220s, the principalities of Rus’ had already experienced the brutality of the Mongol armies in a famous raid led by the Mongol generals Jebe and Subutai. Less than two decades later, the Mongols under Batu were intent on establishing a more permanent presence.

In the sights of Batu’s warriors was the city of Kyiv, the center of a confederation of principalities known as the Kyivan Rus’. Kyiv was a trade hub, a center of Orthodox Christianity, and a vital point of defense for the Slavs resisting the Mongol advance. Batu’s army, one of the most mobile on Earth at the time, quickly advanced to its outskirts as it devastated enemy forces in its way.

When the Mongols finally laid siege to the city in 1240, it became not just a battle between rivals but a clash of civilizations. On one side was an army honed by years of rapid conquest and containing a reputation for being brutal conquerors. On the other side were the weakened defenders of one of the oldest Christian states in Europe. The conquest of the city led to the collapse of Kyivan Rus’ and the start of Mongol domination in Eastern Europe.

Kyiv Before the Siege

Founded by traders on the Dnipro River, Kyiv was a major population center that linked Europe with the tribes of the eastern steppe. It had a large number of churches and synagogues that reflected the city’s religious diversity. Merchants traveling from Central Asia to Europe often stopped in the city and contributed to the local economy.

However, beneath the city’s grandeur, there was trouble. Rus’ was prone to infighting among its principalities. Before the Mongols arrived at the city’s doorstep, power had shifted north to cities such as Vladimir and Novgorod in present-day Russia. Conflicts over succession to the office of Grand Prince had led to the erosion of authority in Kyiv.

In 1240, the city was ruled over by a new actor on the scene: the principality of Galicia-Volhynia, also known as the kingdom of Ruthenia. One of the successor kingdoms to Kyivan Rus, they had seized the city in 1239 to deny control to northern rivals. After taking control of Kyiv, Prince Danylo of Galicia-Volhynia failed to prepare the city’s defenses and ignored the threat of the Mongols.

Kyiv had seen conflict before. Steppe nomads, such as the Cumans, had attacked the outskirts of the city but were never able to occupy the whole city. Local rulers often cut deals with regional princes to keep the city intact. This approach would not work against an enemy as formidable and ruthless as the Mongols. They destroyed several Russian cities, including Vladimir, Ryazan, and Kolomna, before arriving at the gates of Kyiv.

The Mongol Approach

In 1239, Batu Khan’s army sacked the cities of Periaslav and Chernihiv, which lay in the path of their advance towards Kyiv. He sent envoys to Kyiv, hoping to secure the city’s surrender before he arrived there. However, the Ruthenians executed both men and vowed to defend the city. The Grand Prince of Kyiv, Danylo Romanovych, vowed to defend the city at all costs. He went to Hungary to gain support from other European princes and kings for his effort, leaving the city’s defenses in the hands of Voivode Dmytro.

The Mongols were effective practitioners of psychological warfare. After sacking cities, they allowed a few survivors to escape to spread word of their brutality to persuade them to submit to the Mongols. As Dmytro prepared the defenses of Kyiv, refugees from other cities east of the Dnipro river poured into the city, exacerbating its supply situation. Morale in Kyiv collapsed as the refugees passed along tales of the Mongols slaughtering and looting the inhabitants of other cities.

As Batu’s army marched towards Kyiv, Danylo’s pleas for help had gone unanswered. No reinforcements were on the way and the garrison had just over 1,000 men available. The Mongols built siege weapons from local timber and had a force with lots of experience. The odds were against the Ruthenian defenders.

The Siege

By early December, the Mongol forces had surrounded the city. While the exact number of men and horses under Batu’s command is not known, it is almost certain that they heavily outnumbered the city’s garrison. Their siege engines made quick work of the wooden palisades and platforms around the city. An attempt by the Chorni Klobuky, Turkic warriors fighting for Rus’, to relieve the garrison was stopped. No other attempts to relieve the siege were made and the Mongols controlled river traffic going towards the city. Batu brought up the main body of his force and prepared to storm the walls.

The conditions for the inhabitants were horrific. Supplies ran short quickly and Dmytro was not able to maintain order while the Mongols kept pressing against the outer defenses. Siege projectiles destroyed many homes, forcing people to take shelter in churches and other major buildings. News that relief wouldn’t arrive spread around, causing additional defeatism.

After the killing of their messengers, the Mongols were in no mood to negotiate. They aimed to breach the walls and annihilate the garrison and anyone who resisted them. Dmytro attempted to plug the gaps, but he lacked the manpower and the city’s fall became more likely. Far off in Hungary, Prince Danylo failed to secure Christian support for an army to march to the garrison’s aid. Written accounts say that it only took about nine days before the Mongols managed to enter the city and slaughter its inhabitants.

The Fall of Kyiv

The sack of Kyiv left the city a shadow of its former self. Contemporary chroniclers described the once-bustling capital reduced to smoldering ruins, its population decimated. The garrison was practically wiped out in brutal hand-to-hand combat in the streets, while the city’s outer fortifications were destroyed. After they conquered the place, the Mongols carried out a systematic slaughter, sparing few beyond those deemed useful as slaves or artisans. Kyiv’s sacred sites, including the famed Saint Sophia Cathedral and the Pechersk Lavra, were pillaged and looted.

The demographic and cultural losses were immense. The overcrowding of the city during the siege compounded the tragedy. Those who survived carried harrowing memories of mass killings and destruction, ensuring that the terror of the Mongol invasion spread across Eastern Europe through oral and written accounts. The Church of the Tithes was reduced to rubble, becoming a symbol of the city’s ruin.

Politically, the fall of Kyiv shattered any remaining illusions of Rus’ unity. The city was no longer a functioning political or economic center owing to its devastation. Trade routes along the Dnipro faltered, and the balance of power shifted decisively to the northeast towards Moscow and Tver in what is now the Russian heartland.

For the Mongols, Kyiv’s destruction was both strategic and symbolic. By destroying the spiritual and cultural heart of Kyivan Rus’, Batu Khan had sent a chilling message. Any attempt at resistance was futile, and submission was the only path to survival.

Aftermath and Legacy

Following the destruction of the city, Batu incorporated it into the Golden Horde, the name given to the Mongol state in Eurasia. The city’s population dwindled to a few thousand people who struggled to get by amidst the smouldering ruins. Grand Prince Michael of Chernihiv tried to parley with Batu to gain recognition as ruler of the city but was soon executed by the khan.

In 1243, Batu gave titular control of the city to Yaroslav II Vsevolodovich of Vladimir-Suzdal, who had collaborated with the Mongols during the invasion. However, the Mongols retained authority over the city, allowing the Hromada (city council) limited powers. Mongol control over Kyiv continued until 1363, when internal struggles weakened the Mongol’s ability to maintain their empire. Subsequently, the Grand Duchy of Lithuania conquered Kyiv and much of Ukraine from the Golden Horde.

The Mongol siege was a brutal experience for the city’s inhabitants that would be repeated in subsequent conflicts. Although Kyiv never regained its status as the principal city of the Rus’, the city gradually recovered and would become an important cultural and religious center as part of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth and later the Russian Empire.

However, the Mongol siege of Kyiv reverberates in Ukraine to this day. Survivors of the Nazi occupation during World War II and Russia’s invasion in 2022 compared their actions to Batu’s warriors. Mongol actions during the siege and sack of the city epitomized their aggression and brutality when seizing land for the Golden Horde.

Over six centuries, 36 Ottoman Sultans ruled over an empire that spanned from central Europe to the Red Sea. Having to contend with religious, cultural, diplomatic, and ethnic tensions was not an easy task. Some managed to rise to the challenge, and some felt dismally short. These thirteen Sultans epitomize the rise and fall of the Ottoman Empire, from its humble beginnings, rapid expansion, gradual contraction, and to its eventual collapse.

1. Osman I (1299-1323/4)

Perhaps the most mysterious Ottoman sultan, Osman I, is also the very first. Even lending his name to the dynasty (in Arabic, he was ʿUthmān), there is no contemporary information regarding his reign. As a result, we are forced to rely on chronicles written a century after his reign.

Dispelling the many myths surrounding his sultanate, we can gather that Osman’s rule began in a beylik (equivalent to a principality) in northern Anatolia (modern-day Turkey). At the time, the region was divided, as various rulers tried to gain a foothold in the crumbling remnants of the Byzantine Empire.

Osman used this confusion to his advantage, slowly eroding Byzantine territory and some of his neighboring southern states. Although he never held the title of sultan, Osman I set in motion the gradual expansion of the Ottoman Empire and is revered as the founder of the Ottoman dynasty.

2. Murad I (1362-1389)

The third Ottoman Sultan, Murad I undertook the empire’s first major territorial expansion. Varying timelines are suggested, but it is agreed that sometime in the 1360s, Adrianople fell to the Ottomans. Murad quickly moved his capital there, where it would remain until 1453. The sultan then turned his attention further towards Europe, vassalizing Serbia, Bulgaria, and the Byzantines.

A key development during this reign was the founding of the Janissaries. Much like the Praetorians of Rome, they were an elite standing army that would dictate much of Ottoman political life going forward, often removing sultans who did not favor them.

Murad I also holds the distinction of being the only Ottoman sultan to ever be killed in battle. This occurred at the Battle of Kosovo (1389). In a clash which wiped out both the Ottoman and European armies, Murad was slain when a group of European knights made a direct line for him. Despite the devastation of the battle, the larger manpower pool allowed the Ottomans to press their advantage in the following year, solidifying their control over the Balkans. The Battle of Kosovo remains a key aspect of both Serbian and Kosovan nationalism.

3. Bayezid I (1389-1402)

Bayezid’s legacy as an Ottoman Sultan began with attempts to consolidate Anatolia and multiple failed attempts to conquer Constantinople. Perhaps his greatest success was victory in the Battle of Nicopolis (1396). A united Crusader army was destroyed in its attempt to siege the city, again with considerable losses on both sides.

The Crusader defeat meant that Europeans were less likely to unite to defend against the Ottomans, fearing similar devastation. Bayezid (Murad’s successor) also solidified his control over southern Europe, taking advantage of the weak Second Bulgarian Empire.

His reign ended in disaster with a defeat at the Battle of Ankara (1402). The emir of the Timurid Empire, Timur, overwhelmed a smaller Ottoman force and captured Bayezid. Humiliated in captivity, Bayezid I died the following year, with rumors swirling about whether he committed suicide or was poisoned.

Bayezid I’s death led to a ten-year period during which the Ottoman Empire was divided between his sons, who all attempted to seize power over the fragmented territory. This was the first major crack in Ottoman expansion, delaying the empire’s growth by a few decades.

4. Mehmed I (1413-1421)

The victorious son of Bayezid I, Mehmed I was the Ottoman sultan who by 1413 had reunited the Empire. Named ‘The Restorer,’ he centralized control in Anatolia and expanded the territory further in Europe, setting the wheels in motion again for Ottoman dominance.

However, a major naval defeat to Venice in 1416 checked Mehmed’s ambitions to conquer the seas. Instead, the Venetians would be the ones to dominate the Eastern Mediterranean, forcing Mehmed to turn his attention inland.

Ultimately, the legacy of Mehmed I was one of stability. Coming out of a decade of turmoil, he put down numerous revolts and brought the empire back under central control. In the chaos following Bayezid I’s defeat, Mehmed’s calming eight years as Sultan helped set the platform for the coming centuries of Ottoman dominance.

5. Mehmed II (1444-1446, 1451-1481)

The reign of this Ottoman Sultan can be summarized by his epithet: “The Conqueror.” Mehmed II did just that, overseeing a broad expansion of the empire in all directions. Mehmed had two stints as Sultan. The first began when the Janissaries forced his father, Murad II, to return to the throne. Mehmed would reclaim the title after his father’s death.

Mehmed began his reign by defeating a Hungarian Crusade and rebuilding the Ottoman navy. His greatest triumph came in 1453, when he captured Constantinople and brought an end to the Byzantine Empire, a goal of Middle Eastern Empires for nearly eight hundred years.

In addition to foreign policy triumphs, Mehmed’s domestic reforms brought Ottoman cities right to the forefront of cultural and scientific innovation. He was the first Ottoman sultan to codify both criminal and constitutional law, helping further stabilize the vast empire. His philosophy of strong personal rule would provide a blueprint for many of the great sultans to come in the following decades.

A mark of Mehmed’s acclaim came with his death. Throughout Europe, celebrations were held, a testament to the power and prestige that he had accumulated with his conquests. Even to this day, Mehmed the Conqueror is heralded as a hero in Turkey. He appears on Turkish currency, and a key bridge over the Bosphorus bears his name.

6. Selim I (1512-1520)

A grandson of Mehmed the Conqueror, Selim I began his reign through a civil war. After his father, Bayezid II, named Selim’s brother, Ahmet, to succeed to the throne, Selim rebelled. The Ottoman Civil War was concluded when Selim used Janissary support to overthrow his father and kill Ahmet, ensuring his own ascension.

Like Mehmed II, Selim’s epithet is also apt to describe his reign. Known for his brutal repression, he was given the name ‘The Grim.’ Even potential unrest was quickly put down, and anyone even suspected of treason was savagely executed. A devout Sunni Muslim, Selim I conducted massacres of Shiites across the Empire as he battled the neighboring Safavid Empire (based mostly in modern-day Iran).

Outside of this brutality, Selim I oversaw an incredible expansion of the Ottoman Empire. Despite being in power for only eight years, by the end of his reign, Ottoman territory had grown 70 percent. Victory over the Mamluk Sultanate brought control over the Levant and Egypt.

Selim’s legacy is therefore mixed. His violent and ruthless reputation is weighed against his impressive territorial gain. Regardless, he was crucial in transforming the Ottoman Empire, putting it in a position to further its golden age under his son, Suleiman.

7. Suleiman I (1520-1566)

A list of key Ottoman Sultans would be incomplete without one named ‘The Magnificent.’ The son of Selim I, he continued his father’s conquests, becoming the longest-reigning Sultan in Ottoman history (46 years).

Under his rule, the Ottoman Empire dominated both land and sea. Grand victories brought further control over Europe, Persia, the Red Sea, and the Mediterranean. Suleiman rendered the Kingdom of Hungary useless, absorbing much of it into the Empire.

Suleiman also presided over a cultural ‘Golden Age,’ through extensive domestic reform. He brought disparate Ottoman law codes together and encouraged poets and artists to take up residence in the imperial court. The sultan personally gave patronage to forty artistic societies, including numerous construction projects.

A controversial moment came when he married a European consort, Roxelana, who would go on to play a central role in Ottoman politics in the following years (previously, only freeborn women were considered ‘worthy’ to marry a sultan).

One of the last sultans to expand his territory, Suleiman the Magnificent’s reign may be the high point of the Ottoman Empire. The decades following his death were known as the ‘Era of Transformation,’ where the empire slowly consolidated and was beset by a growing number of crises. Suleiman’s renown reverberated across the known world even after his death, being mentioned decades later by Shakespeare in The Merchant of Venice.

8. Murad IV (1623-1640)

Reigning since he was only eleven, this Ottoman sultan rose to power thanks to a Janissary coup and spent his early reign under the regency of his mother. After years of turmoil, Murad was able to restore order to a struggling empire, brutally cracking down on mutineers and anyone hinting at insurrection.

His defining legacy came with a decisive war against the Safavids. Ottoman forces were able to seize Baghdad and maintain their gains in Mesopotamia. The ensuing partition of territory, particularly in the Caucasus, would mirror the borders of modern-day Turkey, Iran, and Iraq.

Unfortunately, many of his domestic reforms were curbed by his early death from alcoholism, leaving his (reportedly) mentally unwell brother, Ibrahim the Mad, to rule.

9. Mehmed IV (1648-1687)

Beginning his reign even earlier, at the age of six, Mehmed IV would be the second-longest-reigning Ottoman Sultan. After his father, Ibrahim the Mad, was overthrown so that he could rule, Mehmed’s reign was beset by instability.

However, through careful use of his Viziers (advisors), he managed to stabilize the Ottoman Empire and bring it to its greatest geographical extent in Europe. Nicknamed ‘The Hunter,’ Mehmed delegated many of the official tasks of state, using the Köprülü family as his closest advisers.

This success could only last so long, as Europe soon came together to stop the Ottoman advance. The Holy League, comprising the Holy Roman Empire, the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, Russia, and Venice, united in the Great Turkish War, hoping to prevent Mehmed from advancing further north.

The war was a resounding victory for the League, and the Ottomans were forced to cede much territory in central Europe. This was the first major reversal of Ottoman expansion in centuries, making the Habsburgs the dominant dynasty within Europe.

Despite his early successes, Mehmed IV’s rule was an indicator of the gradual decline of the empire. Unable to hold its own weight, it slowly contracted, beset on all sides by its enemies. Mehmed was overthrown early into the Great Turkish War by his own soldiers, a sign that he was able to delay the splintering of the Ottoman dynasty but not stop it completely.

10. Mahmud II (1808-1839)

Mahmud II’s legacy as Ottoman Sultan was marked by both domestic reform and foreign policy disasters.

He was finally able to disband the Janissaries, allowing him to centralize authority and rebuild the Ottoman army. The Imperial Court was also modernized, increasing administrative efficiency and setting in motion an era of reform that would radically alter the Empire in the following decades.

However, territory-wise, Mahmud’s reign continued the trend of previous decades. He lost territory to Russia in two Russo-Turkish Wars, was forced to recognize Greek autonomy, and ceded Algeria to France.

Attempts were made to bring the Ottoman Empire into the fold of the European Great Powers, so that they could negotiate on equal footing and not as an afterthought. This was a feat that would eventually be achieved by his son, Abdülmecid I. He was able to ally with the United Kingdom and France, and attended the Congress of Paris in 1856, a sign that they were part of the ‘Concert of Europe.’

11. Abdul Hamid II (1876-1909)

Abdul Hamid II was the last Ottoman sultan to rule directly over any empire of note. Throughout his reign, he was forced to give up Bulgaria, Cyprus, Egypt, Montenegro, Thessaly, and Tunisia.

There were some positives to his leadership, however. Abdul Hamid continued the modernization of the empire, particularly with the construction of railways and the expansion of the education system.

This reform was put on soon, as the Ottomans soon found themselves in crisis. The triple threat of uprisings in Europe, another war with Russia, and an economic crisis caused by defaulting on loans made it impossible to maintain the Empire. Soon, Abdul Hamid II found himself under the control of the Concert of Europe to help alleviate the crises, a reversal of Abdülmecid I’s previous efforts.

Foreign pressure soon triggered domestic crises as several revolutionary groups sprang up, as they had across Europe. The sultan’s response was brutal repression, cracking down violently on any dissent, as many of his predecessors had done. However, this did not manage to quiet the discontent, and he was deposed by the Young Turks.

Abdul Hamid II’s legacy may be the most disputed today. Initially, he was viewed as backward in his views and a hindrance to the Ottoman Empire (named ‘The Red Sultan’ for his bloodshed). Yet, future generations of revisionists saw him as a heroic last stand of leadership, assertive in the spirit of Selim I and Suleiman the Magnificent. The division remains today, often falling along political lines in Turkey.

12 & 13. Mehmed V and Mehmed VI (1909-1918/1918-1922)

These two Ottoman sultans are grouped together for their involvement in World War I and the subsequent breakup of the Ottoman Empire.

Before the war even started, Mehmed V’s rule lurched from one crisis to another. He saw three separate coups d’état, a war with Italy that resulted in the loss of Libya, the loss of almost all Ottoman territory in Europe, and ten governments in ten years.

Throughout World War I, the Ottoman Empire was able to defend against an Allied invasion at Gallipoli. However, by the end of the conflict, it had been driven back to Mesopotamia. At the time, the Committee for Union and Progress was running the country, and Mehmed V’s power was significantly diminished. It was during this time that the Armenian genocide was carried out, which the sultan was unable to prevent or stop.

Mehmed V died in the summer of 1918, right as the Central Powers were definitively losing the war. He was succeeded by his half-brother, Mehmed VI—the last Ottoman Sultan.

This new sultan attempted to improve relations with the West in the aftermath of World War I, but was helpless to do so. Greece and Armenia declared independence, and Turkish nationalists created their own government in Ankara. These greatly weakened the empire, and on November 1, 1922, the Sultanate was abolished. Soon after, the Republic of Turkey was established, ending six hundred years of Ottoman rule.

Whilst it is commonly agreed that there is little that either Mehmed could have done to prevent the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, there are still debates to this day over how responsible Mehmed VI was for the rise of Turkish nationalism. He gave Mustafa Kemal Atatürk tremendous support throughout World War I and its aftermath through powerful appointments and supplies. Ataturk would use that same support to overthrow the Sultanate.

Despite being overthrown, the Ottoman dynasty still survives to this day, with all descendants being allowed to return by 1973.

After taking power in a coup in 66 AD, the Zealots, a collection of radical Jewish factions, launched an uprising against the Roman Empire. Their ruthlessness was not enough to prevent the defeat of the Jewish forces and the sacking of the city of Jerusalem.

The Rise of the Zealots

From the year 66 AD to 73 AD, the Romans were embroiled in a brutal war with the Jewish population of Judaea after subjugating them in the 1st century BC. After a period of client rule, Judaea came under direct Roman authority. There were routine riots against the authorities and demands from leaders of the Jewish community to restore their autonomy. The Romans responded with brutal crackdowns, further alienating the Jewish people.

Tensions increased with a string of assassinations of anyone suspected of collaborating with the Romans. This was done by a group of men known as the Sicarii. More Jews began to embrace certain forms of religious fanaticism, believing that only total obedience to God and the Torah could save them from total domination by Rome. One such figure, Theudas, even tried to claim that he could part the waters of the Jordan River before he was executed.

In 64 AD, when Gessius Florus became the Governor of Roman Judaea, he faced a rising challenge in maintaining control over the territory. When Florus attempted to seize funds from the Temple in Jerusalem, riots broke out that forced him to leave the city. King Herod Agrippa II failed to stop the unrest and Jewish rebels took control of the city and repulsed a Roman counterattack. They formed the Judean provisional government. However, internal chaos led to the rise of hardline factions led by Eleazer Ben Simon. These factions, known as the Zealots, united and overthrew the provisional government, executing several of its leaders and forming a tyrannical government.

Jerusalem on the Eve of the Siege

For the next couple of years, the Zealots ruled over Jerusalem until the Romans returned. Initially, the Roman General Vespasian held off from attacking the city, believing that the Jews would destroy themselves through a civil war. This enabled Ben Simon to tighten his grip on the city. The Zealots created a tribunal that executed members of the former government, including Niger the Perean and Joseph Ben Gurion. They even left the corpses of their rivals unburied in violation of Jewish law and customs.

Notwithstanding the turmoil gripping the city, Jerusalem remained the major center Jewish culture and society. The city and its environs covered several hundred acres and may have had a population of 100,000 inhabitants. The Herodians and Hasmoneans had built walls around and within the city, but many of them were too weak to withstand a serious attack. Managing affairs in the Temple Mount was the Sanhedrin, a High Court originally formed in the Hasmonean period. It was the Sanhedrin’s defiance of Roman orders that led to Florus’s theft of Temple funds.

Some of the Jerusalemite Jews decided to embrace Roman rule in the theory that they would benefit from collaborating. Most notable of these people was Josephus, a Jewish rebel leader who was captured and later became a trusted advisor to Vespasian and his son Titus. He is best known as a historian and he left an account of the Siege of Jerusalem and the Zealots. Before the siege began, the Zealots cracked down on anyone they believed was a collaborator, often having them executed. Their rule helped tarnish Jerusalem’s reputation as a cosmopolitan center of life in the region.

Zealot Factions and Internal Conflict

After leading campaigns in Galilee and Judaea, Vespasian returned to Rome to become emperor in 69 AD. He ordered his son, Titus, to completely crush the Jewish revolt. Titus marched on Jerusalem with an army of 50,000 men and began besieging the city from Mount Scopus in April 70 AD. His forces carried a formidable complement of siege equipment and heavily outnumbered the defenders. However, the walls of the city prevented him from overrunning Jerusalem immediately.

Inside the city, the Zealots vowed to fight to the death. However, they were undermined by internal divisions that fatally weakened their ability to resist. In control of the outer courts of the Temple complex and parts of the city was John of Gischala and his supporters. He had fled to Jerusalem after resisting the Romans in Galilee. Once they massacred Eleazar Ben Simon’s supporters in the inner courts, they took control of the entire Temple complex. Simon bar Giora, who had been invited into the city to stop the other Zealots, took control over large parts of the rest of the city and fought intense battles with both the Romans and John’s men.

Throughout the siege, the Zealots engaged in brutal internecine warfare. Both John of Gischala and Eleazar Ben Simon tried to wipe each other out and destroyed most of Jerusalem’s food stores in the process. Simon bar Giora had the largest contingent of defenders under his command, but was still unable to take control of the rest of the city. All three Zealot leaders brutally murdered anyone standing in their way, including people they suspected of helping the Romans.

The Zealots’ Battle Tactics

Titus’s army managed to establish siege works that surrounded the entire city, preventing the Jewish garrison from receiving supplies or reinforcements. The Romans were skilled practitioners of siege warfare, having captured many cities before, and they had little difficulty this time. Titus ordered deserters executed publicly to maintain discipline and staged parades outside the city as a show of force to intimidate the defenders. Instead of assaulting the city directly, they methodically captured one strongpoint after another. By steadily making progress, they took the Temple Mount and destroyed it, enabling them to prepare for the final conquest of the rest of the city.

Despite their internal divisions and the catastrophic supply situation in Jerusalem, the Zealots proved to be tough fighters for the Romans to defeat. Early in the siege, some of the Jewish defenders snuck out from the walls and launched a surprise attack on Roman positions in the Kidron Valley. Only after Titus personally rallied his troops were the Romans able to repel this attack.

When the Romans brought up siege towers, the Zealots dug tunnels underneath them to set them aflame. Their ruthlessness slowed down the Romans’ progress and they used the formidable city walls to their advantage. However, they lacked the weaponry to destroy all of the Romans’ siege engines. This meant that they could not break the siege from within. Furthermore, as the siege went on, they struggled to replace their losses and could not drive the Romans out of the positions they captured.

The Messianic Fervor Behind the Zealot Movement

Notwithstanding the intense rivalry between the different Zealot factions, they were all unified behind a common ideology and ruthlessness. One of the main reasons that Eleazar Ben Simon had toppled the Judaean provisional government was his belief that the moderates were insufficiently devoted to God. The other Zealot leaders shared this belief. Like all Jews, the Zealots believed that the Israelites had been elected by God to serve as his chosen people. For them, any support for the Romans was a direct violation of the will of God and an apostasy, as they were not chosen by God.

In the Torah, there is a story about a man named Phinehas, who killed an Israelite man and a Midianite woman for engaging in illicit sexual behavior. God rewarded Phinehas by preventing the divine plague against the Israelites. For the Zealots, Phinehas’s story was a powerful motivator and they brutally cracked down on any Jew who was perceived to not be sufficiently obedient to God’s will.

As the siege went on, the Zealots’ brutality towards their own people increased. In an attempt to motivate Jerusalemites to fight, they burned most of the foodstuffs in the city, causing a famine. According to Josephus, a woman named Mary ate half of her son, fearing that he would be enslaved by the Romans or starve to death. After the city fell, several hundred Zealots fled to a fortress outside of the city called Masada, which they held for a couple more years. When the Romans finally took the fortress, they found that the defenders had all committed suicide. Their ideological fervor did not waver even as it became clear that the Romans were on the verge of winning.

The Fall of Jerusalem

Once the Romans seized the Temple Mount, they slaughtered thousands of Jews that they found inside the compound and plundered the whole area. This was the second time the Temple of Jerusalem was destroyed; the First Temple had been destroyed by the Babylonian king Nebuchadnezzar over six centuries earlier. In other parts of the upper and lower cities, the Zealots hung on, but were short of food, water, and had lost a lot of men.

In order to increase pressure on the Jews still resisting, Titus ordered his army to burn and sack what remained of the city. They set fire to parts of the city where the rebels remained ensconced, hoping to burn them out of their positions. At the same time, they promised mercy to any Jew that fled the Zealots, especially the Idumaeans. This was met with additional violence by Zealot holdouts, who condemned any deserter as a traitor.

By September, the rest of the upper city had fallen and the Romans destroyed the rest of the city. Only three towers of Herod’s palace and part of the Western Wall remained; the rest was completely devastated. Titus showed little mercy; 11,000 Jewish prisoners starved to death on his watch. Vespasian allegedly ordered all the members of the Davidic line massacred. For the Jews, the destruction of the temple was a traumatizing event commemorated on Tisha B’Av.

Following Josephus’s historiographical tradition, scholars have long argued that the Zealots helped bring catastrophe upon the Jews with their cruelty and savagery. Their actions served as a warning for those that embraced religious extremism. Additionally, the collapse of the revolt and the Zealots’ failure led to the rise of Rabbinic Judaism.

An orphan from minor nobility and rising from relative obscurity, Irene of Athens became one of the most powerful people in the world. She claimed the title of Empress of the Byzantine Empire, and ruled as the sole monarch—an incredible feat in a deeply patriarchal world at the time—and was even canonized and revered as a saint in the Greek Orthodox Church. However, the cost she paid to get there was unquestionably horrific, ordering the blinding of her own son, who was a political opponent to her rule.

Irene of Athens and Her Path to the Throne

Born into the noble Sarantapechos family sometime between 750 and 756 AD, Irene of Athens is said to have been orphaned at a young age (the records are sparse). Her age at the time, and the nature of her parents’ death, is unknown, but it is likely she became a pliable political tool in the hands of other family members as they jostled for power in the charged political climate of the time.

The circumstances surrounding her marriage to Byzantine Emperor Leo IV are a subject of debate. It has been suggested that she was selected as part of a bride-show, in which eligible women were paraded for selection. Whatever the truth is, she married the 19-year-old co-emperor in 769.

Leo IV was the son of the Emperor Constantine V, who served as the senior emperor at the time. This was an era of turmoil for the Byzantine Empire. Muslim Abbasids threatened from the south and east, while Slavic forces threatened from the north and west. Meanwhile, within the Byzantine military, ethnic and regional tensions, as well as ambitious generals, created a situation that demanded constant attention. To add to this dynamic, the empire was being divided from a religious perspective due to the iconoclastic controversy, wherein iconoclasts (like Constantine V) viewed icons as idolatry and took measures to wipe out iconophilia, further increasing factionalism within an already shaky empire.

Irene and Leo had a son in 771, named Constantine. His birth occurred in the Porphyra Chamber, a room lined with purple marble reserved as the place for royal births in the Great Palace of Constantinople. Purple, as was tradition, was a color associated with nobility and wealth, and this room turned out to be a significant setting for the drama that unfolded in the years that followed.

Emperor Constantine V died in 775, leaving his son Leo IV as the sole emperor, who crowned his son Constantine VI as co-emperor. Leo, an iconoclast who supported the removal of iconography, was at odds with his wife, who was a secret iconophile. When Leo discovered she had smuggled icons into the palace with the help of courtiers, he had the courtiers whipped and rebuked his wife, causing a very public scandal. The drama did not go much further, as Leo died shortly thereafter, in September 780, from tuberculosis at the age of 30, and was succeeded by his nine-year-old son. With Constantine still a child, the rule of the Byzantine Empire came under the control of Irene, who ruled as regent, aided by the chief minister, the eunuch Staurakios.

Imperial Challenges

Irene was now a young widow in a precarious position. Her rule was threatened by rebellions and coup attempts as she navigated the murky and extremely dangerous waters of being a regent and a woman in charge of the Byzantine Empire. After Leo died, plans were immediately concocted to remove Irene and the child emperor from power in favor of one of Leo’s half-brothers, Nicephorus. The plot was uncovered, and moving swiftly, Irene had five of Leo’s brothers arrested and forced to take up the cloth, thus barring them from any imperial ambitions. Such was the swiftness and vigor of Irene’s response that it earned her a great deal of respect as a decisive ruler.

From this solid foundation of ruthlessness, Irene began her own reforms, winning political support from within the court and replacing iconoclasts with iconophiles, reversing the policies of her imperial predecessors. She took more power than was expected, as evidenced by the coins that were minted, clearly showing her in a position of power over that of her son. In practice, she denied him any say in public affairs.

She was driven to upset expectations of her weakness. A female regent before Irene, Empress Martina ruled for less than a year before her tongue was mutilated, and she was sent into exile on the island of Rhodes. By showing a powerful hand, Irene avoided a similar fate. In 781, she took swift military action against those who defied her. She accused the general in charge of Sicily, Elpidius, of plotting against her, and when his troops in Sicily failed to surrender him, Irene sent a fleet to deal with the problem. Elpidius and his supporters were crushed, and Elpidius fled to the Abbasid Caliphate.

During her rule, however, Irene found mixed military success, with Staurakios achieving victory against the Sclaveni, a Slavic tribe that had invaded Greece. Byzantine forces, however, struggled against the Abbasids, and Irene was forced into a position where she had to pay an annual tribute to secure the borders.

Nevertheless, Irene’s most notable achievements were not in the realms of military action but in restoring the veneration of icons within the empire.

The Restoration of Iconophilia

Irene’s husband and father-in-law had been iconoclasts, and with their passing, Irene pressed for icons to be accepted again. The biggest obstacle was Paul IV, who was Patriarch of Constantinople. When he died in 784, Irene elevated her former secretary, Tarasios, to the position. Despite opposition and the disruption of councils, Irene and Tarasios were able to convene with bishops in Nicaea in October 787, whereupon they formally reversed imperial policy and restored the veneration of icons as an article of faith.

The factionalization that the issue created was tense, but through careful politicking and diplomatic efforts with iconoclast and formerly iconoclast religious figures, Irene and Tarasios were able to avoid a civil war. Irene was even able to secure the consent of the Pope in Rome. Within the Greek Orthodox Church, Irene’s efforts afforded her a place of great reverence, and she was later canonized as a saint.

Irene and Her Son

Despite the political victories, Irene’s biggest threat persisted in the form of her son and his imperial ambitions. It was expected that Irene would step down as regent when her son came of age, but she refused to do so, and a great rift opened as the two fought for ultimate control of the Byzantine Empire.

Constantine VI, however, was not free from scandal. He rejected his mother’s attempts to marry him into the Carolingian dynasty through Rotrude, a daughter of Charlemagne, and the engagement was broken off by Irene. She then selected Maria of Amnia to be his wife, and the couple was wed in 788. Despite having two children (two daughters, Euphrosyne and Irene), Constantine was not fond of Maria and forced her to become a nun. He took his mistress, Theodota, Irene’s lady-in-waiting, as his wife (in 795) after having her crowned Augusta (Empress). This move was highly unpopular with the church, and Constantine lost much political and religious support.

It is suggested, and certainly likely, that Irene was aware of the fallout from this scandal and encouraged her son into such dangerous waters. His removal from power would be easier, and Irene would be able to consolidate her hold on the throne.

While being major factors, these marital events were not the catalysts for the distrust between the two. In 790, Constantine had tried to assert his power and had had Staurakios arrested. Irene responded by having her son and his entourage arrested, but she lacked support from the military. When Constantine was sprung from prison, Irene was removed from the court, but Constantine proved ineffective and suffered military defeats. He allowed his mother back into the imperial court in 792.

Further eroding his public image, he dealt disproportionately with perceived threats. After an attempt at usurpation by Nicephorus, he not only had him blinded, but had his other uncles’ tongues cut out as well. This action led to a revolt, which Constantine crushed with particular cruelty. By the time he remarried, he was already suffering from poor support, and ended up being labeled as an adulterer. Meanwhile, his marriage to Theodota produced a son, Leo, in 796, but the infant died a year later.

Constantine and Irene’s Fates

While Constantine was stricken with grief over the death of his son, Irene took the opportunity to retake power. She had garnered military support by bribing several generals who agreed that Constantine was running the empire into the ground. She also bribed palace guards to remain neutral. Constantine became aware of the plot and attempted to flee, but was captured and dragged to the Porphyra Chamber, where he had been born. And it was there that Irene ordered her son’s eyes to be gouged out.

Irene was now unopposed, but she inherited an empire with severe challenges, and the issue of blinding her own son lost her much support. Facing military threats and being forced to pay tribute to the Abbasids, the empire was under financial strain. She was now in her forties, and she had no heir, and refused to marry. When Charlemagne was proclaimed Emperor of the Romans by the Pope, it sent shockwaves through the Byzantine Empire, as many viewed Byzantium as the rightful successor of Rome. According to legend, there was a marriage proposal from Charlemagne, but it was overturned before it could be properly considered. Nevertheless, Irene managed to strengthen diplomatic ties between the Byzantines and the Franks.

In 802, her finance minister (also named Nicephorus) led a coup and ousted the empress from power. Irene was exiled to the island of Prinkipo. While there, she was suspected of plotting to retake the throne, and was subsequently banished to Lesbos where she died on August 9, 803. There are no records of what caused her death, but while in exile, she lived in considerable hardship, having to spin thread in order to support herself.

Apart from having her own son blinded, Irene is remembered as an iconophile who restored the veneration of icons. Her support of monasteries also won her significant support from the religious community, and today she is remembered as a saint within the Greek Orthodox Church. Her feast day is August 9.

While Jewish communities have been the targets of antisemitic violence for much of European history, pogroms in the Russian Empire in the late 19th century encouraged Jewish intellectuals to consider solutions to the Jewish people’s problems. This process inspired the political Zionism movement in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, which called for the establishment of a Jewish state in the Land of Israel. This article focuses on six prominent Zionist thinkers and their ideas about what a Jewish homeland in Israel would look like.

1. Leon Pinsker

While the idea of the return to the Land of Israel is one dating back to the start of the expulsions of Jews from the Holy Land, modern political Zionism started to develop at the end of the 19th century. The first Jewish thinker to write about the creation of a Jewish state was Leon Pinsker. Born in 1821 in the town of Tomaszow Lubelski in Congress Poland, Pinsker grew up with the belief that Jews must seek to become part of the societies they lived with in order to fight antisemitism.

Despite efforts to gain emancipation for Jews in Europe during the 1848 Revolutions, Jewish rights were still infringed upon. In the Russian Empire, Jews faced legal restrictions and discrimination. When Tsar Alexander II was assassinated by a cell of socialist revolutionaries in March 1881, Russian monarchists blamed the Jews. Riots against Jewish communities known as pogroms broke out all over the Russian empire.

Pinsker was horrified and became convinced that Jews needed an alternative option to trusting the Gentiles with giving them full equality. He wrote a book called Autoemancipation! which promoted the idea of Jews pursuing a state or entity outside of Europe where they could govern themselves. He initially thought that America was the best place for a Jewish autonomous homeland, but began to embrace the idea of a Jewish state in Ottoman Palestine. In 1881, he helped form the group Hovevei Zion (Lovers of Zion), the first proto-Zionist organization in Europe. In 1891, he died in Odesa, Ukraine, and was reburied in Israel in 1934.

2. Theodor Herzl

Despite Pinsker’s writings and activism, he never achieved the fame that Hungarian Jewish editor and philosopher Theodor Herzl attained. Herzl was born in Budapest in 1860 to German-speaking Jews who moved to Vienna when he was a boy. He became a law student at the University of Vienna. However, he had little interest in law and became a journalist, working for Vienna’s Neue Freie Presse. According to scholars, he was initially ambivalent about his Jewish identity. That changed when he came to witness European antisemitism firsthand.

It has long been alleged that Herzl was radicalized by watching the Trial of Alfred Dreyfus while serving as the Paris correspondent for Neue Freie Presse. Dreyfus, a French Army officer, had been accused of spying for Germany during the Franco-Prussian War in a case that was laced with antisemitism. However, some scholars believe that it was the election of avowed antisemite Karl Lueger as Mayor of Vienna that caused Herzl to embrace Zionism. Austria-Hungary was supposed to be a welcoming place for Jews; seeing an antisemite win an election in cosmopolitan Vienna horrified much of the liberal intelligentsia. Herzl moved away from assimilation and vowed to build a new homeland for Jews elsewhere.

Herzl wrote his seminal work, Der Judenstaat, in 1896. He proposed the idea of a Jewish homeland outside of Europe, arguing that the “Jewish question” was not a social or religious question, but a national question. In his pamphlet, he identified sites in Ottoman Palestine, Uganda, or Argentina as suitable locations for a Jewish homeland. The new state would be a liberal utopia with equal rights for all of its inhabitants and German would be the main language. He went around Europe hoping to gain support for his idea from different leaders including the German Kaiser, the Russian Tsar, and the Ottoman Sultan. Notwithstanding opposition from officials across Europe and other Jewish community leaders, he persevered in his vision and organized the First Zionist Congress in Basel, Switzerland, in 1897.

In Basel, around 200 delegates arrived to confer with Herzl and his colleagues about his vision. They came from all over the world, demonstrating how Zionism appealed to Jews everywhere. The conference created the World Zionist Organization, with chapters in multiple countries. However, there was no consensus on what exactly a new Jewish state would look like. After traveling to Palestine to see the land for himself, Herzl wrote a novel called Altneuland in 1902 about the creation of a utopian Jewish state in Palestine. He died in Vienna in 1904 and was reburied in Israel in 1949.

3. Ber Borochov

The Zionist cause appealed to Jews across the political spectrum. One of the founders of left-wing Zionism was Dov Ber Borochov, more commonly known as Ber Borochov. Borochov was born in the city of Zolotonosha, Ukraine. He embraced socialist ideas to support working-class people around the Russian Empire. Being denied the chance to study at any prestigious Russian universities opened his eyes to anti-Jewish discrimination in the empire.

For many socialists around Europe, the idea of a Jewish state seemed chauvinistic and contrary to socialist ideas of internationalism. Borochov argued that the Jewish people needed a homeland in light of the antisemitism they faced. He also believed that Jews were kept poor when they did not have the freedom to develop their own land and homes. He embraced the idea of a socialist state in Palestine inhabited by Jewish and Arab working people. This became the platform of Poale Zion, a Marxist Zionist political party.

During the First Zionist Conference in Basel, Borochov argued against attempts to create a Jewish state in Uganda, arguing that it would not benefit Jewish working class people. After the Revolution of 1917, he returned to Ukraine to speak publicly about the importance of Poale Zion’s work. Unlike Herzl and Pinsker, Borochov promoted the Yiddish language and argued that it should be the language of the independent Jewish state. After serving as a delegate to the All-Russian Democratic Conference, he died of blood poisoning in 1917. Borochov was one of the most prominent leftist Zionists in history and much of early Israel’s politics was influenced by his work.

4. Ze’ev Jabotinsky

Borochov faced opposition from right-wing Zionists who did not believe in socialist principles. Vladimir Jabotinsky was born into a middle-class Russian Jewish family in Odesa, Ukraine, in 1880. He was ambitious and cosmopolitan, hoping to become a journalist like Herzl. For several years, he wrote a series of articles for different Russian-language newspapers until 1903, when he learned of the Kishinev Pogrom.

Like many other Jewish intellectuals, Herzl became a fervent Zionist in response to pogroms in the Russian empire. He became a believer in the creation of Jewish self-defense militias, especially in places with large Jewish communities like Odesa. He also became a major proponent of the Hebrew language and changed his first name to Ze’ev (Wolf). He traveled all over Europe to promote the Zionist cause, believing that Jewish life in Europe was in peril. When World War I broke out, he joined the British Army along with other Russian Jewish immigrants in Britain and fought to eject the Ottoman Army from Palestine. The Allies succeeded and the British Mandate of Palestine was created.

He was furious about Britain’s decision to assume control of the region and the division of Transjordan from Palestine. He became a leader in the newly-formed Haganah, a Jewish militia in Palestine, only to be arrested by British authorities when found illegally carrying a weapon. When it became clear that Palestine’s Arab population was violently opposed to Jewish settlement in the land, Jabotinsky became an advocate of very aggressive measures to create the state of Israel. His essay, Iron Wall, written in 1923, promoted a Jewish state on both banks of the Jordan River and insisted that an “Iron Wall” be created to separate the Jewish and Arab populations. That same year, he founded Betar, the first Revisionist Zionist organization created with the intent of challenging the mainstream Jewish Agency in Palestine.

As Jewish settlement increased and fascism rose in Europe, Jabotinsky became more alarmed and convinced that Jews needed to flee to Israel. He foresaw catastrophe for Jews around the world and demanded that Britain allow unlimited immigration to Palestine. Events like Kristallnacht made him insist on a global Jewish boycott against Nazi Germany, which was rejected by most Jewish organizations. When he died in 1940 in New York, he was actively aiming to recruit an army of Jews from around the world to fight the Axis armies in Europe.

5. Ahad Ha’am

The Haskalah, or Jewish Enlightenment, played a role in the development of different forms of Zionism. Cultural Zionism embraced many Haskalah teachings in promoting the creation of a Jewish cultural center in Palestine. The main proponent of this ideology was Ukraine-born Ahad Ha’am. He was originally known as Asher Ginsburg and born in 1856 to a Hasidic Jewish family. His admiration of the Land of Israel did not come from politics; rather it was from his religious upbringing.

Ha’am shed much of his religious practices later but did become an admirer of Leon Pinsker. While in Odesa, he joined Hovevei Zion. However, he began to criticize the practice of establishing Jewish settlements. In his mind, a Jewish state in Palestine would not be able to absorb all of the diaspora and provide a decent standard of living for its inhabitants. In 1891, he wrote an article called Truth From Eretz Israel based on his first visit to Palestine. It noted the problems with living in the region and the fact that the Arabs were absolutely opposed to the Jewish settlement.

In later years, he continued writing pieces for newspapers like Ha-Shilo’aḥ about the impracticality of establishing a Jewish polity in Palestine. He grew publicly combative of other Zionist thinkers like Max Nordau and Herzl. Notwithstanding his concerns about mainstream Zionist thought, he still promoted a Jewish presence in Palestine and helped advise the British government on the Balfour Declaration. After serving five years on the Tel Aviv city council, he died in the city in 1927.

6. Henrietta Szold

Most people assume that Zionism was promoted exclusively by male thinkers. However, Jewish women played a prominent role in the development of Zionism. Born in Baltimore in 1860, Szold came from a middle-class Jewish family and was deeply committed to Jewish values and teachings. In 1904, she became the first woman to study at the Jewish Theological Seminary in New York. Her commitment to Zionism made her stand out in the American Jewish community, where support for Zionism was initially limited.

When she visited Palestine several times in the early 1900s, she was horrified at the living conditions there and vowed to do something about it. In 1912, she founded Hadassah, a medical service, to help Jews in need of assistance. Hadassah expanded over time as more immigrants arrived in Palestine. Additionally, she was a secretary for the Jewish Publication Society. From 1918 to 1920, she led the Education Department of the Zionist Organization of America.

As the clouds of war loomed over Europe in the 1930s, she became committed to getting as many young Jews to move to Palestine in defiance of British efforts to limit Jewish immigration. Szold founded Youth Aliyah and helped an estimated 20,000 Jewish children escape before the Nazis occupied Europe during World War II. Even as she promoted Jewish settlement in Palestine, she was sympathetic to Arab concerns and insisted that Hadassah help Arab communities too. She also was a member of Ihud, an organization promoting binationalism. She died in the Hadassah hospital that she created in Jerusalem in 1945.

“Witchcraft” has been around for thousands of years. If one extends its scope to include shamanistic rituals, then it has been around since long before recorded history. Perhaps even before Homo sapiens evolved.

Throughout history and across cultures and societies, it has changed as a practice and in how it has been perceived. This latter factor is crucial in examining portrayals of it in art and media.

From intrinsic parts of ancient religion to night-riding, green-faced hags to empowered modern women, the portrayal of witchcraft is a topic of wide scope that reflects the beliefs and mores of the societies in which it existed and still exists today.

Early Ideas of Witches and Witchcraft

Witches, witchcraft, magic, sorcery, and a host of other supernatural ideas have been a part of human culture and storytelling for millennia. A salient source for such myths is Homer’s Odyssey, which features an early archetype of sorceresses or witches. When Odysseus lands on the island of Aeaea, he is deceived by an enchantress nymph, Circe, who transforms his crew into pigs, thus beginning a long tradition of the association of witches and transmogrification, as well as deception and carnality.

Another depiction is a niece of Circe, Medea, a sorceress and high priestess of the goddess Hecate. In the tale of the Argonauts, she saves Jason and later marries him, but after he plans to leave her for another woman, she murders her sons and poisons Jason’s new wife, leaving her ex-husband without any heirs. Such depictions represent the sorceress as divine or of noble birth, and while they can be helpful, they are dangerous because of their control over nature and their use of magic.

Both of these examples have the sorceress being particularly knowledgeable in “pharmakeia,” the morally neutral use of drugs. This is an association that persisted into the Middle Ages, when herbalists and healers were associated with White Magic. This tradition was inherited from Pagan practices, and was at odds with Christian virtues, which held the view that all magic was born of evil, even if used with good intent. By the Late Middle Ages, the idea of magical powers stemming from a Diabolical Pact was acted upon. Societal tolerance for folk healers and practitioners of White Magic disappeared, and the Church began radical campaigns to root out all forms of witchcraft, leading to violent purges.

Demonization and Diabolism

In the late 15th century, Europe became a very different place as far as witches were perceived. This was when Heinrich Kramer wrote his contentious Malleus Maleficarum, the “Hammer of the Witches,” a book that acted as a guide and legal authority for the persecution of those accused of witchcraft. It served as a catalyst for centuries of madness as European societies sought scapegoats for their ills and bad fortune. And women, in no small part, were the target of this deeply misogynistic text. Despite the questionable logic behind Kramer’s conclusions, the book was widely accepted and adopted in Europe, where it found fertile ground, influencing the entire social dynamic of a continent, being used in church and secular courts.

Historian Robin Briggs notes that between 1450 and 1750, there were around 100,000 witch trials in Europe, of which 40,000 to 50,000 resulted in executions. The vast majority of the victims were women accused of superstitious nonsense.

Art played into this propaganda, and witches became associated with ugly hags and uncontrollable sexual desires. The examples are legion, and earlier depictions include works by Albrecht Dürer, Hans Baldung Grien, and Frans Francken the Younger.

The archetype also found its way into the performing arts, with the notable example being the Three Witches in Shakespeare’s Macbeth, written in the very early 17th century. These “secret, black, and midnight hags” are sinister beings that eventually lead to Macbeth’s demise. Inspiration for these characters was drawn from the Daemonologie of King James, published in 1597, in which the North Berwick witch trials of 1590 were described. The confessions of this trial “proved” the accused had attempted to raise a storm to sink a boat on which were King James and Queen Anne.

Once these stereotypes had been propagated, they lasted and were repeated over the centuries that followed. Even long after the Malleus Maleficarum had been discredited and discarded, the archetype of the child-eating, wizened old hag with her pointed hat, flying on a broomstick, had been solidified in popular memory. And while it may be seen as fiction today, the imagery certainly persists.

As such, the stereotype evolved from a religious warning to a being rooted in psychological horror, generally for the purpose of entertainment (and scaring children).

A Romantic and Victorian Re-Imagining

With the onset of the Enlightenment and rational thinking, the witch trials ended, yet the idea of witches persisted. Not as an immediate threat, but as characters from myth and folklore. In art, the witch was reinvented in various forms and within different contexts. Of note is Francisco Goya, who challenged religious zealotry and its creation of evil with his works as well as his words. Armed with his penchant for satire, Goya created sharp social commentaries on the dynamics and beliefs of the time. In his aquatint, The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters, he indicates that it is the abandonment of reason that gives rise to the superstitious belief of evil creatures.

Exploring the realms of emotion, Romantic poets aided in the reinvention of the witch. In La Belle Dame sans Merci (1819), the witch is a beautiful temptress with the power to lure kings, princes, and warriors to their doom of enthralment. The poem focuses on love and emotion as well as the fantastical nature of its subject.

The following year, Percy Bysshe Shelley, in his The Witch of Atlas, transforms the witch into a purely benevolent, if mischievous, being, traveling the world and creating a more harmonious and just vision of it.

The pre-Raphaelite era, from the mid-19th century, recontextualized the witch as a powerful and sexually appealing sorceress, harkening back to the ancient myths and re-presenting the archetype. Key examples in art include Circe Offering the Cup to Odysseus by John William Waterhouse, Medea by Frederick Sandys, Lady Lilith by Dante Gabriel Rossetti, and The Beguiling of Merlin and Sidonia of Bork by Edward Burne-Jones.

Thus began the era of the “femme-fatale,” with the pre-Raphaelite movement leaving a very ambiguous statement of women and witchcraft. On the one hand, they are powerful and autonomous. They are sexually liberated and use this to their advantage. On the other hand, they are a dangerous warning that reflects the fears of women becoming more independent at the time. In this and through the depiction of witches, the movement represents the push and pull of feminism and anti-feminism.

Fairytales, 20th Century Cinema, and Disney

Despite pre-Raphaelite re-imaginings, the archetype of the evil hag was one that was prevalent and was replicated in the media throughout the centuries. From the Brothers Grimm to Disney to modern Halloween decorations, it is a common archetype that has evolved little, or at least it can be said to have remained, while other archetypes have been born and evolved.

Based on earlier folk tales, the story of Hansel and Gretel was first published in 1812 and has since solidified the image of a nasty old hag luring children to her den with the intention of eating them. According to literary scholar Jack Zipes, the tale took form in the Late Middle Ages. This would have put the creation in the same time frame as the rising tension, which led to witch hunts and the publication of the Malleus Maleficarum. Also recorded by the Brothers Grimm, wicked witches are a feature in Sleeping Beauty and Rapunzel, while predating them is the Slavic tale of Baba Yaga, alternately presented as either a ferocious old hag who eats children or a nice old woman who helps people. Despite the existence of the latter, the former is the presentation most associated with the character.

Picked up by Walt Disney, the Grimm stories and the witches contained therein were brought to the silver screen, starting with Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in 1937, which represented the Evil Queen taking the form of a hag who deceives the eponymous character with a poisoned apple. Of note is Disney’s Sleeping Beauty (1959), which gave a name to the villain, “Maleficent,” derived from the Latin “malefica,” literally, “witch” or “sorceress.”

Half a century later, she would have her own story told…

Ideas and Depictions of the Modern Witch

In the 20th century, several archetypes emerged and existed with the stereotypical hag-style witch that was already cemented in the public conscience. This depiction continued, and continues to enjoy popularity as is evident in films such as The Wizard of Oz (1939), and the particularly memorable The Witches (1990), based on Roald Dahl’s 1983 book of the same name. Alongside these depictions, however, other ideas for witches emerged.

The domestic and comedic witch archetype emerged in the 1960s with Bewitched (1964-1972), featuring an attractive young witch, Samantha (played by Elizabeth Montgomery), who marries into the American suburban lifestyle. The quirky comedy ran for eight seasons (254 episodes).

In the realm of comic books, the Archie Comics character, Sabrina Spellman, had her own series as Sabrina the Teenage Witch, which was adapted into several television series and films over the years, both animated and live-action. The latest incarnation is The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, a Netflix series which ran for four seasons (or two seasons, each split into two parts, for fans demanding technical accuracy!) from 2018 to 2020.

The comedic aspect for young witches was ditched in The Craft (1996), which presents four high school girls (played by significantly older actresses) being caught up in the dangerous and deadly world of the dark arts. With its goth influence and its themes of female empowerment, the film has become a cult classic over the years, and encapsulates the changing perceptions of witches in media. Following this was the incredibly popular series Charmed (1998 to 2006), which features three powerful witches who use their abilities to fight evil.

Meanwhile, in the real world, witchcraft is a real practice with modern witches synonymous with the Wiccan movement, becoming popular in the 20th century, and being introduced to the public on a widespread scale in 1954. To this, both men and women practice magic (or magick) with generally benevolent intent, using stereotypical accoutrements such as wands, chalices, and pentacles.

Continuing Re-Interpretations

In the decades since, the evolution of witches has accelerated, informed by such things as Wicca, feminist movements, and the widening acceptance of the fantasy genre as a mainstream phenomenon. In 2014, Disney released the movie Maleficent, starring Angelina Jolie and centered on the villain from Sleeping Beauty. In this version, she is no longer purely a villain, but a tragic figure with justification for her vengeful actions. In this, the witch is portrayed as a heroine rather than the traditional antagonist of the original tales.

Modern versions have presented witches as complex, three-dimensional characters far removed from the bland sorceresses of tradition, and many depictions have become vectors for feminism and commentary on patriarchal systems. In the Harry Potter series, Hermione Granger is a magic-wielding sorceress who is a co-protagonist. Throughout her arc from child to young woman, she is a symbol of knowledge, loyalty, and standing up for the marginalized in society. Fittingly, the actress, Emma Watson, became a powerful voice for the HeForShe movement, which reaches out to men in the fight for women’s equality.

Of course, television and cinema screens aren’t the only places where modern witches are displayed. As they have done for millennia, they are portrayed on canvas and paper, in paint and print. And here too, they have undergone evolution, from powerful sorceresses to evil hags, to comedic cartoon characters, and back to powerful sorceresses. Like real human beings, they can be evil, benign, or benevolent.

In the art world, witches and sorceresses (an often grey and murky definition) are a common theme in fantasy genres, and here they have become noticeable examples of the male gaze, coming full circle and representing the powerful and irresistibly sexual figures of Greek myth. Some of the most famous fantasy artists, such as Frank Frazetta, Boris Vallejo, Julie Bell, Brom, and Luis Royo, have all used witches as subjects, with the latter appropriately creating a body of work entitled “Malefic,” named after the character he created.

Although characters of myth and legend, witches have reflected real-world relations and perceptions. From being feared to being reviled to being respected and loved, the journey of witches in human society and how they are depicted is a story that is surely unfinished. How they will evolve depends very much on the dynamics of human society.