This essay concerns a desire that Iranians have preserved deep within their collective soul for centuries, a longing for the return to Iranian identity and the Iranian tradition, which is, in essence, the tradition of Iranian kingship.
For Iranians, Shahriyaragan is not merely a reminder of an ancient celebration. It is an occasion to revisit one of the most fundamental themes of Iranian thought: kingship. In this Iranian tradition, kingship is, before anything else, an ethical qualification. Before it begins with a royal throne, it begins with mastery over oneself.
The word Shahrivar appears in the Avesta as Xšaθra Vairya. The festival of Shahriyaragan is celebrated on the day of Shahrivar in the month of Shahrivar (sixth of the month of the Iranian calendar). In the ancient calendar, this was the fourth day of the month of Shahrivar, corresponding to 30 Mordad in the modern Iranian solar calendar.
Xšaθra Vairya developed into Shahrivar in Persian. This Amesha Spenta represents spiritual sovereignty, divine power, and mastery over oneself. In the Avesta it is Xšaθra Vairya, in Middle Persian Shahrewar, and in Persian Shahrivar. The first part of the word refers to sovereignty and shahr, whose ancient meaning is associated with a realm or country, as in Iran-Shahr, the name historically used for the land of Iran. The second element, vairya, conveys the idea of what is desirable or worthy.
Thus, Xšaθra Vairya can be understood in relation to the ideal sovereignty, the ideal realm, or the ideal spiritual power. In ancient Iranian belief, this Amesha Spenta represents the sovereignty and khvarenah of Ahura Mazda, protects the sacred order, safeguards the glory and victory of righteous rulers, supports the poor and assists those in need, and is associated with metal within creation.
In the Admonitions of Adarbad Mahraspandan, it is said:
‘On the day of Shahrivar, rejoice, for joy belongs especially to those who have chosen a good ruler.’
Biruni also writes:
‘On Shahrivargan, great fires were kindled, they increased their worship and praise of God, and gathered together for food and other celebrations.’
Shahrivargan is therefore a celebration of the grandeur of endurance and righteous sovereignty. It is a celebration of mastery over oneself, a profound celebration of self-knowledge, a time of liberation from oppression, and a moment of joining the Iranian people’s pursuit of justice.
From here, a fundamental question emerges:
Who is worthy of kingship?
To find the answer, we must return to the beginning of the Iranian narrative, to Kayumars.
In the Avesta, Gayōmarətan is the first human being. In the epic tradition and in Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh, Kayumars is the first king. This distinction is important and these two traditions should not simply be treated as identical. Yet because the Shahnameh is one of the most important repositories of Iranian concepts of kingship, placing these traditions alongside one another can produce profound insights. In one, we encounter the beginning of humanity; in the other, the beginning of kingship.
In Ferdowsi’s Shahnameh, Kayumars is the king at the beginning of a world in which humanity, culture, order, and governance emerge with his reign. After him comes Hushang, then Tahmuras and Jamshid, and with each of them, another part of civilisation and the ordered life of Iran-Shahr takes shape.
In the Iranian tradition, the ideal king is not simply the person who sits upon a throne. He must develop the world, advance knowledge, arts and crafts, and bring order to the lives of the people. Their responsibility is not merely to rule Iran-Shahr. Their defining characteristic is a civilising mission, spreading prosperity and joy throughout the world through wisdom.
Yet ideal kingship begins somewhere deeper: with mastery over oneself.
A person who cannot rule over his own anger, greed, fear, and selfishness is not worthy of sovereignty, regardless of how much external power he possesses. Here, self-knowledge means looking inward and recognising one’s strengths and weaknesses, followed by the ability to discipline oneself and transform inner power into good action. This is the essence of ideal kingship, consistent with the ancient Iranian association between Shahrivar, power, justice, and good order.
In Shahriyaragan, two essential pillars of Iranian kingship and governance, justice and generosity, stand together.
After the agricultural harvest, the king would become aware of the needs and difficulties of farmers and herders. Those who, for whatever reason, had failed to produce a harvest or had no income could receive assistance from the king’s own resources, based on reports and requests from the dehqans. In this way, the true crown and glory of kingship did not arise from gold and jewels, but from freedom, generosity, and wisdom.
Ideal Iranian kingship begins with self-knowledge. A person must first know the territory within himself. He must understand what drives him toward greed, what provokes his anger, and what can lead him away from truth. Only then can he control his power and use it not for destruction, but for creation and construction.
Shahriyaragan can remind us that Iran is more than a defined geographical territory. It is a historical memory, a cultural language, and a tradition of ethical thought. It is a tradition in which sovereignty is connected to responsibility, power to justice, and glory to merit.
For this reason, the desire to return to Iranian identity should not be understood merely as a return to names and symbols. A genuine return has meaning only when the ethical tradition of governance and citizenship is taught, and when we understand what it means to be Iranian.
If we speak of kingship, we must speak of justice.
If we speak of monarchy, we must speak of individual and civic responsibility.
If we speak of the glory of Iran, we must speak of the prosperity of Iran and the happiness of the Iranian people.
And if we speak of glory of Iran, we must ask how we can become worthy of it.
Ideal Iranian kingship, in this reading, is not the rule of one human being over another. It is the rule of justice, founded upon wisdom.
This is an important distinction between the Iranian concept of ideal kingship and the conventional concept of monarchy or kingdom.
It is a kingship that begins with mastery over oneself and leads toward justice, prosperity, and the dignity of Iran. But for this ideal to remain more than an idea, it must eventually take form in the institutions and political life of a nation. This is where the modern history of Iran, and particularly the Pahlavi era, enters the argument. The connection should not be understood as a claim that the ancient ideal was perfectly realised in modern times. Rather, the Pahlavi period can be examined as a modern historical experience through which many Iranians encountered the idea of national sovereignty, state-building, modernisation, and the continuity of Iranian kingship in concrete form.
Iran has had kings who gave their lives for Iran. In the Shahnameh, in the ancient age, before the heroes and great men became the protectors of Iran, it was the kings themselves who placed their lives in the service of the country. The same question therefore follows naturally into the modern age: if kingship is a form of responsibility before it is a form of power, what should a modern Iranian monarchy demand from both the sovereign and the citizen?
The Pahlavi era provides the most immediate modern reference point for that question. Whatever one’s assessment of the political shortcomings and controversies of that period, the monarchy under Reza Shah the Great and Mohammad Reza Shah represented a modern attempt to restore Iranian state capacity, strengthen national institutions, and place Iran on a path of rapid development and modernisation. For many Iranians, the memory of that period is therefore inseparable from a sense of national continuity and from the experience of living under an explicitly Iranian conception of monarchy.
Yet the lesson is not simply that a king must rule well. A political order cannot survive through the virtues of a sovereign alone. It also requires citizens who understand their own civic responsibility and recognise that the preservation of national institutions, culture, sovereignty, and freedom is part of their own duty. The failure to understand that responsibility can leave even a deeply rooted political tradition vulnerable to collapse.
If we want the flag of Iran to once again fly above Iran, we must strengthen not only the wing of military power, but also the other wing: the wing of knowledge and culture. We must return to the profound and enduring Iranian tradition, the tradition of kingship.
Only then can we rise and remain above the storms, rather than falling with every storm as we did in 1979.
It is in this historical context that the question of the Pahlavi tradition returns to the present. For those who regard the restoration of the Iranian monarchy as part of Iran’s future, the issue is not merely the restoration of a title, a crown, or a dynasty. It is whether the principles associated with ideal Iranian kingship can once again become a living political ethic: responsibility before privilege, justice before power, national continuity before faction, and service to Iran before personal interest.
The present generation of Iranians also faces a living figure who has repeatedly declared his willingness to sacrifice himself for Iran. For those who see Reza Shah II as the legitimate political representative of this tradition, his nearly five decades of public advocacy for Iran are part of the reason they regard him as a potential sovereign for a future free Iran. But if that future is to embody the ideal described here, support for the sovereign cannot replace civic responsibility. The citizen, too, must understand responsibility or duty: to defend Iran, preserve its culture, demand justice, and refuse to surrender the country to another form of tyranny.
The return to Pahlavi, in this sense, must mean more than a return to the Pahlavi name. It must mean a conscious return to the deeper Iranian idea that sovereignty carries an obligation to the nation, and that the nation carries an obligation to safeguard its sovereignty. The crown can symbolise continuity, but it is the character of the sovereign, the responsibility of the citizen, and the rule of justice that give kingship its legitimacy.
If Iranians want an ideal kingship, they must begin with our own selves, they must begin Irani.
Happy Shahriyaragan.
By Leila Naseri: Author | Composer | Social Cultural Analyst
The post Shahriyaragan: The ancient Iranian tradition of ideal kingship appeared first on The Spectator Australia.