independence movement that they might find Russian aid in their time of need. A small-scale trade war began between Russian and Chinese merchants, both competing to offer the most favourable terms to their Mongolian suppliers. Although they rejected an initial approach by the Mongolians, their policy soon changed when it became apparent that the Chinese had neither the power nor the troops to keep control of Mongolia.
In the long run, the Russians had no interest in Mongolian independence. Aleksei Kuropatkin, the general responsible for the farce of the Russo-Japanese war and leader of a clique at court dedicated to Asian expansion, wrote that âin the future, a major global war could flare up between the yellow race and the white. [. . .] For this purpose, Russia must occupy north Manchuria and Mongolia [. . .] Only then will Mongolia be harmless.â 22
Kuropatkinâs words perhaps indicate another source of Russian anxiety about Mongolia; a deep-rooted memory of the Mongol conquests that gave this otherwise minor country a greater importance. His real worry, though, concerned the waves of Chinese immigration into Manchuria and Inner Mongolia, which he and other military and political leaders saw as âthe first blow of the yellow race against the whiteâ - the âYellow Perilâ feared throughout Europe. Indeed, in European eyes the Mongols often stood in for the whole of Asia, over-breeding and
posing a constant threat to Western civilisation. In the pseudo-science of racial hierarchies, âMongolâ was used for the whole of East Asia, and the spectre of Genghis Khan was raised time and time again during the early twentieth century, especially as Japan began its rise to power; convenient shorthand for the âYellow Perilâ as a whole.
One party in the Russian government seriously considered annexing Mongolia outright in 1912, but more cautious voices prevailed. Instead they would arm and train the new regime as a buffer against China. In the summer of 1912, then, the Russians dispatched a small group of military advisers to train the Mongolian army, some twenty thousand strong but completely unskilled in modern warfare. Many of the troops didnât even have guns, preferring the composite bow, taut and powerful, that dated back to Genghis Khanâs mounted archers, and military discipline had become a foreign concept. Under Genghis and his immediate successors, the Mongolians had been a more streamlined, disciplined and deadly war machine than any army until the Second World War, but nothing of this remained; now the emphasis was on individual glory, outdoing rival clans, and plunder. They needed to be licked into shape, and the Russians had the men for the job.
Ungern latched on to them, attempting to get himself a post with the Russian garrisons in Urga and the western city of Khobdo, both of which contained members of his former regiments. He was refused, but found himself attached to the Khobdo guard as a supernumerary captain. With few actual duties, he spent his time studying the language (he would scribble down new words he came across), practising his riding and talking to the lamas and monks who dominated the Mongolian cities. The other officers found him strange and off-putting, and effectively excluded him from their society. One witness remembered him sitting alone in silence much of the time, and on other occasions being seized by a strange spirit and leading whooping Cossacks in wild charges across the plains.
He may have had some contact with one of the most legendary lamas, Dambijantsan, also known as the Ja Lama. This mysterious figure had been fighting against the Chinese for over thirty years; he claimed to be the great-grandson, and later the reincarnation, of Amursana, a famous eighteenth-century fighter against the Manchus who was in turn a purported incarnation of Mahakala, the Great Black God, a ferocious deity who, like the other âdharma
In the long run, the Russians had no interest in Mongolian independence. Aleksei Kuropatkin, the general responsible for the farce of the Russo-Japanese war and leader of a clique at court dedicated to Asian expansion, wrote that âin the future, a major global war could flare up between the yellow race and the white. [. . .] For this purpose, Russia must occupy north Manchuria and Mongolia [. . .] Only then will Mongolia be harmless.â 22
Kuropatkinâs words perhaps indicate another source of Russian anxiety about Mongolia; a deep-rooted memory of the Mongol conquests that gave this otherwise minor country a greater importance. His real worry, though, concerned the waves of Chinese immigration into Manchuria and Inner Mongolia, which he and other military and political leaders saw as âthe first blow of the yellow race against the whiteâ - the âYellow Perilâ feared throughout Europe. Indeed, in European eyes the Mongols often stood in for the whole of Asia, over-breeding and
posing a constant threat to Western civilisation. In the pseudo-science of racial hierarchies, âMongolâ was used for the whole of East Asia, and the spectre of Genghis Khan was raised time and time again during the early twentieth century, especially as Japan began its rise to power; convenient shorthand for the âYellow Perilâ as a whole.
One party in the Russian government seriously considered annexing Mongolia outright in 1912, but more cautious voices prevailed. Instead they would arm and train the new regime as a buffer against China. In the summer of 1912, then, the Russians dispatched a small group of military advisers to train the Mongolian army, some twenty thousand strong but completely unskilled in modern warfare. Many of the troops didnât even have guns, preferring the composite bow, taut and powerful, that dated back to Genghis Khanâs mounted archers, and military discipline had become a foreign concept. Under Genghis and his immediate successors, the Mongolians had been a more streamlined, disciplined and deadly war machine than any army until the Second World War, but nothing of this remained; now the emphasis was on individual glory, outdoing rival clans, and plunder. They needed to be licked into shape, and the Russians had the men for the job.
Ungern latched on to them, attempting to get himself a post with the Russian garrisons in Urga and the western city of Khobdo, both of which contained members of his former regiments. He was refused, but found himself attached to the Khobdo guard as a supernumerary captain. With few actual duties, he spent his time studying the language (he would scribble down new words he came across), practising his riding and talking to the lamas and monks who dominated the Mongolian cities. The other officers found him strange and off-putting, and effectively excluded him from their society. One witness remembered him sitting alone in silence much of the time, and on other occasions being seized by a strange spirit and leading whooping Cossacks in wild charges across the plains.
He may have had some contact with one of the most legendary lamas, Dambijantsan, also known as the Ja Lama. This mysterious figure had been fighting against the Chinese for over thirty years; he claimed to be the great-grandson, and later the reincarnation, of Amursana, a famous eighteenth-century fighter against the Manchus who was in turn a purported incarnation of Mahakala, the Great Black God, a ferocious deity who, like the other âdharma
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