From India to Sweden and all places in between, there are myths and legends describing conflicts between deities.
The Asuras battled the Devas in India, the Æsirs waged war on the Vanirs in Scandinavia, and, in Greece, hordes of Titans and Gigantes took on Olympia’s finest. In the Quran, angels fight jinn, and, in Christian depictions, Lucifer and his armies attack the One Most High. In addition, dozens of myths from Middle Eastern peoples recant similar clashes between superhuman combatants.
We might discuss the fact that such crowded polytheistic Pantheons were pre-programmed for internal conflict by their very divisive natures, but that is a discussion for another day.
Instead, let’s ask where these stories come from. Is there an inaugural Cosmic War Tale?
To solve this riddle, we return–our potent weapon of Geomythology in hand–to the Greek Titanomachy, one of the more famous Greek myths. Specifically, to Hesiod’s description of Typhon.
The Greeks, sadly infamous for their lack of mythical consistency, report two origins (at least) of this terrifying creature. Either he is the child of Gaia and Tartarus–read: Earth and the Underworld–or he is the son of Hera, which would make him Chronos’ offspring.
Hesiod listed the most horrible of Titans’ physical attributes, saying he had a hundred snake- or dragon heads, whose eyes all flashed fire and burned fire when he glared; these heads voiced “every sound unspeakable,” some the gods understood, others like that of a bull “bellowing in proud, ungovernable fury” or like the “sound of a lion.”
Encyclopedia Britannica defines the figure as “the personification of volcanic forces. ” Because this child is of the Earth and the Underworld, and because of his association with terrible fire and unspeakable roaring noises, we must agree that Typhon is volcanic in Nature.
This is important, because neither Scandinavia, nor India, nor Greece, have a cultural or mythological connection to exploding mountains.
The people of Eastern Turkey, however, do. Turkish legends to this day still speak of an ancient king who shot “fiery arrows” at the skies. And there was one people, the Hurrians, who, in some distant ancient time lived in and around the most abominable volcano of them all: Nemrut.
In their mythology, The Song of Kumarbi details this gods’ efforts to unseat son #1–Teshub–from his heavenly throne. Three points:
1), those familiar with later Greek mythology will recognize the usurpation themes immediately.
2), Chronos is Kumarbi’s Greek equivalent, as Zeus is Teshub’s, and
3), since Kumarbi becomes pregnant (?) by biting of the genitals of a predecessor he is both father and mother to the storm god, thus we may say that this describes a dysfunctional family, possibly the first in global mythology. That, as well, however, is a discussion for another time.
Unable to do so, Kumarbi hatches the plan to end all plans, impregnates the daughter of a sea god*, and Ullikummi is born.
Unlike every other corresponding myth, the Hurrian Song of Ullikummi seems to be more of an eyewitness account, which also seems impossible because of what blind and deaf Ullikummi is able to do. In his dreaded assault on the heavens, Kumarbi’s offspring scatters 70 gods and causes Teshub to weep pathetically.
The rebellious young adversary grows like no other, and promptly threatens Teshub’s wife, Hebat. In desperation, Teshub seeks out Ea, who retrieves the “toothed cutting tool” that once cut the earth from the heavens. Ullikummi is chopped down at his base and buried under a mountain (see: Typhon’s end under Mt. Aetna).
Two things: although Ullikummi is made of stone, he is described as diorite, meaning he is volcanic in nature. Also, the vulnerability of his lower extremities is a recurring theme in mythology–think of Achilles, Hephaestus, et al–but not only in Greek sources; Middle Eastern and, especially, Caucasian ones are chock full o. If we regard this ancient narrative to reflect actual historical events, then this vulnerability also helps us explain what this most terrible creature really was, but that, as well, is fuel for a different piece.
If the Romans, via interpretatio romana, identified foreign deities as their own godheads, could not the Greeks have not operated under a similar interpretatio graeca? The answer is yes, and the people they adopted most of their gods and certainly this narrative from had a much more personal connection to the events that inspired it.
Suffice to say that this widespread story does have an origin, one grounded in a cataclysmic disaster. The results of which can still be seen today, even as far from Earth as space. If you look at a map of Eastern Turkey, you’ll see the Great Salt Lake-sized Lake Van easily. If you zoom in a little, it won’t take much to find the massive crater, one of the Earth’s largest, on its Southwestern shore.
The mountain, again, is named Nemrut. Similarities between this name and Nimrod are not coincidental and should be, as you’ve probably guessed, left for another discussion.
*–It must be a sea god: Ullikummi, born on a great lake, has a tight connection to water.
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Image: The Fall of the Rebel Angels by Charles Le Brun