The details of Genghis Khan are fairly reliable as history goes: born somewhere near present-day Lake Baikal in Russia; amalgamated a warlike union of Mongolian entities around 1206; conquered China’s Soong dynasty and then (more or less in this order) Afghanistan, Kazakhstan, Turkistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan and Persia.

When Genghis penetrated the fringes of Russia and Europe some claimed the Mongolian Empire needed an entire year to transit. Perhaps. Certainly this was less isolated intifada and more mother of all blitzkriegs. Although the whole Mongolian project collapsed within a century the opium-sodden Coleridge eulogized the early results thus: 

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man…

The bleak news is that almost every continent and every successive century has witnessed some version of Genghis Khan. Very bleak when you think about it.

Noteworthy duplicates seeking ‘caverns measureless to man’ arose during the sixteenth century (Spain and Portugal) and nineteenth century (Britain) and both visited genocides on entire continents. During the twentieth century no fewer than three iniquities matched the Mongolian onslaught: a union of interests in Japan, Joseph Stalin in Russia, and Adolf Hitler in Europe. But for the ineptness of Benito Mussolini and Mao Ze-dong there were signs Italy and China also wished to join this dubious club. Hence a crucial question: what signs might warn of some visibly mad power defining the twenty-first century like Genghis Khan did the thirteenth century?

The first signal Genghis Khan would rise above merely procreating with many women and killing courtiers he didn’t like was an end to the prevailing networks of divide-and-rule. Soong elites from Beijing had long inflicted regionally divisive tactics on the Mongolian plateau (and elsewhere) and Khan was not slow to triumph his success in ending this arrangement: ‘As long as you brothers support one another and render assistance to one another your enemies can never gain the victory over you. But if you fall away from each other your enemy can brake you like frail arrows, one at a time.’

It turns out morphing previously divided entities often precedes imperial expansion. The first industrial-era empire, Britain, saw its greatest expansionism after union of England and Wales in the sixteenth century plus Scotland in the eighteenth and Ireland in the (early) nineteenth century. Twentieth century Germany is another gloomy example. Various pan-German entities coalesced first in 1848 and then in the 1930s Nazi Germany absorbed the Rhineland, Sudetenland and finally Austria. The other substantial dictator of the twentieth century, Stalin, only demarcated the dogs dinner that was the USSR after bonding the ex-Tsarist states that stretched out like a string of pearls between Baltic and Pacific oceans. 

Worryingly the twenty-first century will feature many new countries with at best unconfirmed economic prospects. Indeed and somewhat inauspiciously this century will start with nearly two-hundred countries which is an unusually large number reflecting dissolving European and Soviet empires through the twentieth century. Almost certainly several countries will sacrifice their individuality. 

Confirmation that natural resources still cause war is blindingly obvious. One striking example from several is German expansionism in the twentieth century. Lebensraum, Hitler termed it, by which Nazi Germany planned living space for decent Aryan folks with blond hair and blue eyes and a distasteful hatred of Jews. Just as Mongolians coveted the fertile lands towards the subcontinent yet loathed the inhabitants already there, so Germany’s special target was the lush greenery of Ukraine: the breadbasket of Europe with its plentiful water supply and pasture. 

It is hardly rocket science to foresee similar stimuli in the twenty-first century. With 7 billion people now living population pressure is much, much, greater than before and potable water is approaching its peak of possible production. Not for nothing has the United Nations warned that future wars will probably involve the search for water.

Of course this is not too fashionable these days. Although some Mormons in the west of America and some Muslims in the west of Asia still practice bigamy the industrialized world holds the tradition more or less in abeyance. This has some economic logic because diluting wealth is fairly counter-productive for rich people – fewer eggs in one well-lined basket and all that. Wealthy Japan is revealing proof of the pudding. Currently the archipelago has 120 million people but forecasters reckon this will probably decline within a few decades to somewhere south of 100 millions – a loss of one-fifth of the population within a few generations. 

The conclusion? War is a complex business, sometimes, but in the twenty-first century richer countries will tend to reproduce less and poorer countries more. Religion or other reasons may tweak matters a little but eventually this rule will hold: expanding or already expanded populations will therefore be poorer, exactly like Genghis Khan’s Mongolians.

The religious conviction dominating the Mongolian empire emerged in a 1240 communication from his son Kublai Khan: ‘From the rising of the sun to its setting all the lands have been made subject to me. Who could do this contrary to the command of God? If you do not observe God’s command I shall know you as my enemy.’ It is unrecorded how the recipient to this epistle responded, one Pope Innocent IV of Rome, but we may speculate spluttering into communion wine was involved. Loyal Catholics soon referred to Mongolians as a ‘detestable nation of Satan’. 

Mongolian elites obviously disagreed and amplified how ‘their’ heavenly mandate ordained ‘their’ victories. It seems clear that prayer glued the Mongolian alliance until nearly the end and certainly preserved hierarchy. Genghis was naturally nearest to God so got to interpret what the Omniscient One did or did not divine. Handy. 

Religion will almost certainly explain any future Genghis Khan. Absent some new religious fiction this probably means the familiar fictions created in the Middle East, Islam or Christianity, or Asian value systems like Shinto or Buddhism. Unfortunately both atheists and history confirm no religion is immune to hijack by dictators. 

Not everybody’s taste, then or now, but the point is this new High Mongolian culture created something never before seen. Horse-riding skill, general physical mobility, attitudes towards women and to reproduction, commitment towards decisive military leadership, belief in a direct connection to God above all other peoples; everything set Mongolians apart. 

In some ways this is the easiest lesson for all empires believe themselves a breed apart. Modern vocabulary may vary – racial supremacism, ethnic distinctiveness, cultural differences – but shares a pivotal belief the conqueror is better than the conquered. It is a depressingly easy lie to acquire. Christian empires from Europe saw themselves as racially superior to heathen nations in the Americas or Africa or Asia. European Germans disdained European Jews as much as Asian Japanese loathed just about everyone Asian and especially Chinese. The Chinese later inflicted the same treatment in Tibet and elsewhere. It goes on and on. 

Naturally these five lessons represent only a snapshot. It would be folly to claim they reveal everything to learn from the Mongolians decisive burst on to the world scene and no claim is made that it does. But assuming this shorthand helps a little what might we infer? 

First, the lessons need to happen altogether. Uncomfortable physical or demographic circumstances do not automatically mix a lethal cocktail. True, lack of water (lesson #2) and swelling demographics (lesson #3) were real problems but Mongolia lived with them for generations before Khan. Many modern nations suffer comparable problems without reverting to martial overdrive.

The second conclusion is these lessons become significant when disunited entities combine (that is, divide-and-rule ends, lesson #1). Something ignites within the psyche of newly united peoples and this also happened in European empires. Today’s China and India also deserve careful consideration as to some extent India has already discreetly facilitated fragmentation between Pakistan and East Pakistan (now Bangladesh). Should the net outcome be a pan-Indian union alarm bells should ring. China may arguably be further along the same road having already fused with several bordering states: Tibet, Xinjiang and fittingly enough parts of Mongolia. 

There is a third message. Genghis Khan shows it is insufficient to ring every alarm until binding religion (lesson #4) and perceived supremacy (lesson #5) are present. These are invariably crucial ingredients of any genocidal maniac. This sounds like common sense as racial and cultural supremacy has been present in all totalitarianism. Here matters become a little more hopeful in the twenty-first century for although there are nascent signs of supremacism in many places of the world these remain mercifully fragmented and more or less under control. Touch wood. Only should systemic supremacism appear in alignment with these other four conditions would it be time to get anxious. 

Before closing it is worth repeating that almost every century and every continent has matched Genghis Khan to some extent. Humanity seems hooked on spawning forces that conquer near and far with brutality and shocking contempt for human life. As Einstein held: only the universe and human stupidity are infinite. 

This is not to close with total pessimism for homo sapiens. Liberal democracy and nuclear missiles, humanities most decisive weaponisation so far, may well inhibit future Genghis Khans. No democracy has warred with another (although the sample remains small) and atomic bombs may be so horrible they are impossible to transform into a tool of aggression. Here’s hoping. Yet no firm conclusion holds either way so, love or loath it, we have to live with the prospect of yet another Genghis Khan. All we can really bank is that The Great Mongolian unintentionally bequeathed a few helpful lessons.