Commentary: The Mongols by David Morgan
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Edit: David Morgan’s The Mongols is an in-depth historical exploration of Genghis Khan and the Mongol Empire he founded. David Morgan is a White man, as are many Western scholars who study Mongolia’s history. Therefore, Morgan’s viewpoints are colonizing; his gaze is White. I do not recommend this book to readers, aside from those who want to get their hands on any and all books about Mongolian history. I share this book here to document my own personal research for my book and to utilize this opportunity to reflect on my White family’s interest in Mongolian history.
Growing up, my grandfather-- a scholarly type-- had mounted on his bedroom wall a small portrait of Genghis Khan, the founder and first Great Khan of the Mongol Empire. In the portrait, Genghis faces us. His eyes pierce through the glass and land upon us-- the watchers. He dares us to look back, and every time we are the first to look away again. As we walk away, the Great Khan's eyes follow, always open and watching.
As a child, I did not know who this man was. Time passed and I finally came to figure out whose face I'd seen in my grandparents' home for so many years. But the question became why. Why would my grandfather, one of the sweetest people I've ever known, mount a portrait of a conqueror? A man with such a violent reputation? A man who united the tribes of the steppe to form an empire stretching from Korea to Hungary?
This question has puzzled me for the last eight or nine years.
It was not; however, my grandfather's portrait that lured me to the history of the Mongolian people. It was my own writing. One of the characters of my (in-process) novel is Mongolian and Russian— an identity ripe with overlap, colonization, oppression, and shared space. My approach to creating any character is to do as much research as I can on their ethnic history, culture, religion, etc. and those adjacent. Recently, I read a book called Tragic Spirits: Shamanism, Memory, and Gender in Contemporary Mongolia (the review you can find on this website.) Before that, I read another book called The Secret History of the Mongol Queens: How the Daughters of Genghis Khan Rescued His Empire by Jack Weatherford (which I did not review.) As per my general practice with research, I am still reading about Mongolian history and culture, having just finished my third book on the subject called, The Mongols by David Morgan. I hope to read at least 2-3 more before feeling ready to finalize this character's arc, her motivations, her past, and her voice.
I initially picked up the book hoping to find more information on Mongolian history beyond Genghis Khan's story, as his shadow stretches long, covering most discussions on this subject and leaving little room for the next 900 years.
I understand the intensity of scholarly attention to Genghis Khan. His story was not only mythic, but it also had an enormous impact on Mongolian history, as well as the history of Asia, Eastern Europe, and the Middle East. In fact, even in other texts that I have read about Russian history, his name appears more than once, as historians and artists and politicians attempt to understand themselves, their people, and their destiny. The effects of Genghis Khan's decisions, practices, and desires some claim still linger in our present moment, if you look closely.
While Morgan's book focused solely on the Mongolian Empire of Genghis Khan and his descendants, choosing not to venture into Mongolian history since then, I still found a great deal of interesting and important information to inform my character's development-- details that can bridge the span of time separating her from her most famous ancestor (nearly 700 years.)
But I walked away from this book with even more than I anticipated. Not just the formation of new ideas for my writing, but also a potential answer to my long-standing question about my grandfather and his portrait of Genghis Khan. And from that answer, a need to reflect on my White gaze as a descendent of White Eastern Europeans.
I never asked my grandfather about the portrait. I don't know if my grandfather admired the leader's strength, his pragmatism, his style of politicking, his bravery, or even his militancy. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. But what I have since found in my own fascination with this history, this people is an appreciation of nomadism-- a historic pillar in Mongolian life. Some perceive nomadism as wandering-- a carefree existence guided by chance and nothing more. But only to an outsider's eye is nomadism like wandering. The paths of migration followed by nomadic societies are planned, in a sense strategic, and important. At times they pass by monuments-- places that hold spiritual meaning. At times they pass through enemy territory-- places where care must be kept to pass in stealth. And at times these paths must change. As a sedentary society, there is so much we (White Westerners) don't understand about nomadism. We don't understand that nomadism (when utilized in such a way) can help the environments we live in remain sustainable. We don't understand that nomadism is just as conscious and intentional way of life as sedentary living. We don't understand that nomadism is very much linked in meaningful ways to culture, religion, and medicine. It isn't blind wandering. It is purposeful.
Western societies have punished nomadism in a myriad of ways. For the Romani, another historically nomadic people, Europe and America both have passed legislation and law to punish this aspect of their identity. The American government has done similar things to Indigenous nations and tribes before. The examples are plenty. These laws are founded on the belief that somehow nomadic life is criminal, negative, and undeserving-- ultimately barbarian. Books written on Mongolian history use that word a lot. "Barbarian." If you choose to read books like this one, or others that discuss and study nomadic civilizations, I urge you to pay attention to this word and how it is used. While the word itself has a very nuanced background and context, it is important that we watch out for the Western gaze upon non-Western histories and make sure we do the work to actually understand the culture outside of Western understanding. (This is why I recommend people read more than 1 book on any given subject.)
My grandfather, like me, was a Westerner. We were both raised in the United States. We are both White. We both had/have a Western gaze that can cause harm to others if not kept in check. As I think back on my grandfather’s scholarship and of that painting of Genghis Khan, I scan for remnants of colonization— where our study and curiosity cause(d) harm. I tread carefully in these waters, knowing I don’t belong here. Is there a justification to my gaze? Can I justify it by an attempt to celebrate and better understand Mongolian history and culture? I don’t know the answer.
I think my grandfather mounted that portrait of Genghis Khan in his home as a reminder. A reminder that as we (both-- though separately) study and reflect on other cultures beyond our own, we must meet the eyes of those we want to better understand. As our gaze wanders over their lives, there is the risk of getting lost in scholarship or confused by Whiteness. My grandfather, like me, was a studious man. It was easy for him to wander too deep into the material and forget who else was there with him. If we meet each other in our eyes-- in a shared gaze-- we will find much more of worth. Much more than if we hide behind scholarship.
Once again, I find myself in my grandfather's footprints. He shared in the magnificent history of the Mongolians before I ever did. Flawed as he was, I'm grateful to have known such a worthy example of a lifelong student. Not just a researcher, but a learner, eager to meet the gaze of others, and find pieces of himself in them.