Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World

“The dual capacity for friendship and enmity forged in Genghis Khan's youth endured throughout his life and became the defining trait of his character. The tormenting questions of love and paternity that arose beneath a shared blanket or in the flickering firelight of the family hearth became projected onto the larger stage of world history. His personal goals, desires, and fears engulfed the world.”

Foreshadowing Temujin’s long and complex relationship with Jamuka, Weatherford suggests that Genghis’s unusual (for his time) combination of leniency and aggression towards his enemies arose from the relationships he formed in his youth. His friendships and rivalries, as with Jamuka, Ong Khan, and even his own sons, shift quickly from love to hatred and back again. Rather than just another paradox in the character of this leader, Weatherford suggests that this is part of a larger pattern showing his double-sided nature. Weatherford’s intimation, however, that Genghis’s imperial wars were “projections” of his own psychological condition onto the rest of the world is impossible to confirm.

“In American terms, the accomplishment of Genghis Khan might be understood if the United States, instead of being created by a group of educated merchants or wealthy planters, had been founded by one of its illiterate slaves, who, by the sheer force of personality, charisma, and determination, liberated America from foreign rule, united the people, created an alphabet, wrote the constitution, established universal religious freedom, invented a new system of warfare, marched an army from Canada to Brazil, and opened roads of commerce in a free-trade zone that stretched across the continents.”

With this comparison, Weatherford seeks to place Genghis’s remarkable achievements in context. It is especially important to recognize that Genghis’s early life as Temujin was lived at the bottom rung of the social ladder, inasmuch as Mongol society had such a system. Unlike other founders of nations who are born into nobility, wealth, or fame, Genghis began as an outcast whom other Mongols spurned and transformed himself into one around whom they rallied. The achievements Weatherford lists, however, can also be attributed to his successors who, unlike Temujin, were indeed born into wealth, luxury, and power.

“In nearly every country touched by the Mongols, the initial destruction and shock of conquest by an unknown and barbaric tribe yielded quickly to an unprecedented rise in cultural communication, expanded trade, and improved civilization.”

Weatherford finds in accounts of the Mongol conquests that the interest of the conquerors was not so much in defeating or destroying the other nations of the world as in uniting them into a single unit. He constantly reminds the reader of his hypothesis that the Mongol Empire was more a project of unification than of destruction.

“Genghis Khan recognized that warfare was not a sporting contest or a mere match between rivals; it was a total commitment of one people against another. Victory did not come to the one who played by the rules; it came to the one who made the rules and imposed them on his enemy. Triumph could not be partial. It was complete, total, and undeniable—or it was nothing.”

Weatherford returns to this theme often to contrast the Mongol approach to war to that of the nations they conquered. Notions, found in other societies, of chivalry and honor were foreign to the Mongols; war was war, and their forces would use any means at their disposal to ensure victory. Weatherford tends to use this as a rationale for the sometimes shockingly brutal episodes in the history of the Mongol conquests. To him, such carnage was not an end in itself but rather a swift, if harsh, means of ensuring lasting victory.

“The tragedies his family endured seemed to have instilled in him a profound determination to defy the strict caste structure of the steppes, to take charge of his fate, and to rely on alliances with trusted associates, rather than his family or tribe, as his primary base of support.”

Weatherford suggests that Temujin’s unusual family structure served as an inspiration for his later reforms of the organization of Mongol society. Outcast from the Tayichiuds, Temujin’s family united consisted of two widows, seven young children, and no men. Despite this precarious situation—and even through Temujin’s killing of his half-brother Begter—the family unit stayed strong and proved to Temujin that loyalty ensures survival.

“According to steppe culture, politics were conducted through the idiom of male kinship. To be allies, men had to belong to the same family, and therefore every alliance between men not connected through biology had to be transformed into ceremonial or fictive kinship.”

Weatherford stresses that kin relationships in Mongol culture were both crucial and subject to change. This is yet another paradox within the Mongol worldview that Weatherford points out. The great examples of this are Temujin’s relationships with both Jamuka and Ong Khan. He enters into a bond of blood-brotherhood with Jamuka, and allies himself with Ong Khan because of Ong’s friendship with his father. However, both of these “family” relationships are eventually replaced by rivalry and violence—after, of course, Temujin has justified his actions by declaring Jamuka and Ong no longer family. At the end of his life, Jamuka once again is reconciled to Temujin, further demonstrating that neither family status nor deadly rivalries could be considered permanent.

“Unlike the other steppe tribes that had embraced the scriptural and priestly traditions of Buddhism, Islam, or Christianity, the Mongols remained animists, praying to the spirits around them. They worshiped the Eternal Blue Sky, the Golden Light of the Sun, and the myriad spiritual forces of nature. The Mongols divided the natural world into two parts, the earth and the sky.”

This passage is the centerpiece of a long description of Mongol religion. Weatherford describes this tradition as rooted in the natural world in the same way that other religions are rooted in texts. This focus on nature leads the Mongols to the conclusion that their spirituality is simpler, more intuitive, and more universal than other traditions. In the way that the sky extends over all nations and makes no distinctions between peoples, Mongol tradition seemed the foundation for a world order, not just a set of principles for a select few.

“The nineteen men with Temujin Khan came from nine different tribes; probably only Temujin and his brother Khasar were actually from the Mongol clans…[w]hereas Temujin was a devout shamanist who worshiped the Eternal Blue Sky and the God Mountain of Burkhan Khaldun, the nineteen included several Christians, three Muslims, and several Buddhists. They were united only in their devotion to Temujin and their oath to him and each other. The oaths sworn at Baljuna created a type of brotherhood, and in transcending kinship, ethnicity, and religion, it came close to being a type of modern civic citizenship based upon personal choice and commitment.”

After avoiding an ambush by Ong Khan, Temujin escapes to Lake Baljuna and receives oaths of allegiance from his diverse group of followers. Weatherford describes this episode as a cultural touchstone for Mongolians both medieval and modern. As the beginning of Temujin’s ultimate consolidation of power, the roots of the Mongolian nation can be traced to this one event, and, with it, the tradition of a society built not on received notions or hereditary authority, but personal loyalty given of free will.

“Temujin had produced a new type of steppe army based on a greater variety of tactics and, most important, close cooperation among the men and complete obedience to their commanders. They were no longer an attacking swarm of individuals; they were now a united formation.”

Weatherford draws a connection between the new tactics introduced to the Mongol army by Genghis and the deep personal loyalty his followers feel towards him. The loyalty of individual soldiers allows the entire army to function as a group. While Genghis’s major reform to the Mongol fighting force was to subdivide it into groups of ten, one hundred, and one thousand, Weatherford argues that this division increased efficiency and, combined with the tactical innovations introduced by Genghis, enabled the army to fight as a single unit.

“Victory on the battlefield alone did not confer legitimacy of rule until it was publicly acclaimed at a khuriltai of representatives from every part of the territory. If a group chose not to send anyone, then they rejected the rule of the khan who called it. The khan could not claim to rule them, and, more important, they could not claim his protection.”

In keeping with Weatherford’s emphasis on personal loyalty in Mongol culture, here he stresses the importance of the khuriltai council in the selection of leaders. Time and again in his history, aspiring khans must face their followers in the public council, a ritual which both ensures a leader approved by the majority as well as accountability on the leader’s part.

“Most leaders, whether kings or presidents, grew up inside the institutions of some type of state. Their accomplishments usually involved the reorganization or revitalization of those institutions and the state that housed them. Genghis Khan, however, consciously set out to create a state and to establish all the institutions necessary for it on a new basis, part of which he borrowed from prior tribes and part of which he invented.”

Similarly to quote #3, here Weatherford stresses the remarkable nature of Genghis’ rise and reforms. With no particular attachment to (or privilege derived from) the society he grew up in, he had no reason to uphold elements of Mongol culture that did not directly suit his goals.

“The Great Law of Genghis Khan differed from that of other lawgivers in history. He did not base his law on divine revelation from God; nor did he derive it from an ancient code of any sedentary civilization. He consolidated it from the customs and traditions of the herding tribes as maintained over centuries; yet he readily abolished old practices when they hindered the functioning of his new society.”

Weatherford reminds us that Genghis’ code of law represented both a break with tradition as well as great continuity within that tradition. The main difference with other traditions lies in the fact that his code of law was established purely through the force of his own personality and the willingness of his followers to accept his vision for Mongol society.

“Mongol law, as codified by Genghis Khan, recognized group responsibility and group guilt. The solitary individual had no legal existence outside the context of the family and the larger units to which it belonged; therefore, the family carried the responsibility of ensuring the correct behavior of its members. A crime by one could bring punishment to all…[t]o be a just Mongol, one had to live in a just community.”

This tenet of Mongol law is especially interesting in light of Genghis’ earlier life in his outcast family. Temujin’s murder of his half-brother, Begter, with his brother Khasar as accomplice, marked his family group for punishment by the other Mongol clans. That decision had seemed, in Weatherford’s account, to come from Temujin and Khasar’s own self-interest. One wonders how the law Genghis would institute later in his life would have dealt with such an offender.

“Warriors everywhere have been taught to die for their leader, but Genghis Khan never asked his men to die for him. Above all else, he waged war with this strategic purpose in mind: to preserve Mongol life…[o]n and off the battlefield, the Mongol warrior was forbidden to speak of death, injury, or defeat…[e]ven mentioning the name of a fallen comrade or other dead warrior constituted a serious taboo.”

This passage is one of several in which Weatherford describes the Mongol taboo on death, images of death, and blood. While it does not seem intuitive for such a warlike society, Mongols went to great lengths to avoid the sight of blood and dead bodies. This taboo affected not only actions but speech as well, as in this passage. Framing this not as a superstition but as respect for life is a characteristic move in Weatherford’s argument.

“In one of his most important lessons, [Genghis] told his sons that conquering an army is not the same as conquering a nation. ‘You may conquer an army with superior tactics and men, but you can conquer a nation only by conquering the hearts of the people.’”

This advice, given by Genghis to his sons shortly before his death, foreshadows the path that his grandson, Khubilai, will take in his successful conquest of China.

“Without Genghis Khan to moderate the celebration, his heirs now ruled the empire, drunk with riches they had not earned and with the alcohol that they had come to love. The drunken revelry of Ogodei Khan's inauguration set the standard and the model for his rule, and, at least momentarily, it controlled the spirit of the empire as well.”

Almost immediately after Ogodei’s installation as Khan, Weatherford begins to describe the decline of the empire’s morals. The main difference between Genghis’s generation and the following one lies in the gradual abandonment of nomadic life and customs, as seen, most notably, in Ogodei’s founding of a permanent capital city. It may be easier to characterize the change in the empire’s rulers not as a moral decline, but rather as a shift in how they viewed the customs and traditions that had brought them to the success they enjoyed.

“With the family divided between those who wanted to invade Europe and those favoring an attack on the Sung dynasty, they reached a remarkable and unprecedented decision: [t]he Mongol army would push out in all directions; it would divide and attack the Sung dynasty and Europe simultaneously. The Mongol army would fight campaigns that would stretch it out over a distance of five thousand miles and more than one hundred degrees of latitude… [d]aring as the decision was, it was probably the worst in the history of the Mongol Empire.”

Weatherford criticizes the decision by Ogodei, his sons, and his generals to simultaneously expand into Europe and China. He does not, however, explain why such a strategy was inherently worse than Genghis Khan’s campaigns, which were similarly wide-ranging. The difference, he implies, is that Genghis dealt with his enemies one at a time, with a singular focus; dividing the empire’s focus and splitting its leadership several ways could only lead to a loss of the special cohesion that Genghis was able to bring to the empire.

“While the Mongol men stayed busy on the battlefield conquering foreign countries, women managed the empire. Among the herding tribes, women traditionally managed the affairs at home while men went off to herd, hunt, or fight, and although the war campaigns now lasted for years rather than months and the home consisted of not merely a collection of ger camps but a vast empire, women continued to rule.”

This is Weatherford’s introduction to the episode of the warring queens, Toregene and Sorkhokhtani. It serves as an important reminder that with the male leaders and soldiers of the empire often off on campaigns—or traveling from one part of their vast empire to another—many domestic affairs were managed by women out of necessity.

“Envoys to Mongke's court at Karakorum reported the working of an unusual contraption in his palace. A large tree sculpted of silver and other precious metals rose up from the middle of his courtyard and loomed over his palace, with the branches of the tree extending into the building and along the rafters…[w]hen the khan wanted to summon drinks for his guests, the mechanical angel raised the trumpet to his lips and sounded the horn, whereupon the mouths of the serpents began to gush out a fountain of alcoholic beverages into large silver basins arranged at the base of the tree. Each pipe discharged a different drink—wine, black airak, rice wine, and mead. The four serpents on the Silver Tree of Karakorum symbolized the four directions in which the Mongol Empire extended, as did the four alcoholic drinks derived from crops of distant and exotic civilizations: grapes, milk, rice, and honey.”

The Silver Tree of Karakorum comes to play an important symbolic role in the later history of the Mongol Empire, symbolizing both the vast extent to which the empire had grown, as well as the luxury and decadence of the Mongol court that led it. Mongke’s court, in Weatherford’s account, was very tolerant, open-minded, and prosperous—as well as decadent and even wasteful. The Silver Tree symbolizes both facets of the ruling class at this time.

“Khubilai Khan seemed to recognize that he faced many of the same problems of his grandfather at the time of the original unification of the steppe tribes; namely, how to organize a large number of disparate people into a single cohesive political entity. Although Genghis Khan had faced the problem with a collection of tribes smaller than a hundred thousand each, Khubilai Khan faced the same problem with countries of many millions each. Like Genghis Khan two generations earlier, Khubilai Khan began the arduous process of state building around a core ethnic identity, but for Khubilai that core cultural identity would be Chinese, not Mongol. He had to win the loyal support of the Chinese people, and he had to rebuild or, in many cases, invent institutions to unify disparate people into a viable and strong working whole.

This is Weatherford’s introduction to his account of Khubilai’s transformation into a self-styled Chinese ruler. Khubilai applied the same techniques used by Genghis in his unification of the Mongols—namely, cultivating personal loyalty—but on a vastly larger scale. Khubilai, knowingly or not, heeded the advice given by Genghis to his sons that no conquest can endure if the conqueror does not win the people’s hearts and minds.

“Ultimately, at the heart of the city, however, Khubilai created a Mongol haven where few foreigners, including Chinese, could enter. Behind high walls and guarded by Mongol warriors, the royal family and court continued to live as Mongols. The large open areas for animals in the middle of the city had no precedent in Chinese culture. This Forbidden City constituted a miniature steppe created in the middle of the Mongol capital…[w]hile Khubilai and his successors maintained public lives as Chinese emperors, behind the high walls.”

Here Weatherford describes one of the most surprising aspects of Khubilai’s rule in China. For all his efforts to appear wholly Chinese, his Mongol heritage was sufficiently important to him to prompt him to establish the Forbidden City. This shows that no matter how many changes the Mongol culture had undergone in the two generations since Genghis, it still exerted a great enough pull on Khubilai (at least in private) to justify such an action.

“Whether in their policy of religious tolerance, devising a universal alphabet, maintaining relay stations, playing games, or printing almanacs, money, or astronomy charts, the rulers of the Mongol Empire displayed a persistent universalism. Because they had no system of their own to impose upon their subjects, they were willing to adopt and combine systems from everywhere. Without deep cultural preferences in these areas, the Mongols implemented pragmatic rather than ideological solutions.”

When Weatherford states that the Mongols had “no system of their own,” he does not mean that they had no culture of their own—other sections of his history describe their unique customs, philosophy, and religion. Rather, he means that within their culture there was no mandate to spread their customs to other nations. Weatherford often contrasts this with European nations of the time. The notion of turning every conquered nation into Mongols would be unthinkable to Genghis and his successors. This worldview, Weatherford suggests, made the Mongol Empire a better conduit for innovation than one that prioritized converting or eradicating its enemies.

“In conquering their empire, not only had the Mongols revolutionized warfare, they also created the nucleus of a universal culture and world system. This new global culture continued to grow long after the demise of the Mongol Empire, and through continued development over thecoming centuries, it became the foundation for the modern world system with the original Mongol emphases on free commerce, open communication, shared knowledge, secular politics, religious coexistence, international law, and diplomatic immunity.”

Weatherford often alternates between arguing that the Mongol innovations in technology, communication, and warfare were taken up by later cultures, and that they opened the door for such ideas or innovations to take hold in later civilizations. Whether or not the Mongol advances in these several areas continued to the present day in an unbroken line, they did demonstrate that principles such as “free commerce, open communication,” and “religious coexistence” could serve as the foundation for a successful and prosperous society.