According to a study published in 2011, between
the 13th and 14th centuries a huge amount of CO2 was mysteriously removed from Earth‘s atmosphere.
And when I say huge, I mean about 700 million tons - more than twice as much carbon as is
produced by the whole of the UK in an entire year. Considering our current climate
conundrum, news like this should be of great interest to scientists seeking to
reduce humanity‘s ever-growing carbon emissions. But unfortunately this period of rapid
atmospheric carbon dioxide reduction 800 years ago wasn‘t initiated by
some previously unknown technology modern scientists might take advantage
of - it was caused... by Genghis Khan. And what was the secret to
his carbon-quashing success? He killed people. *Lots* of people. When Genghis Khan's marauding Mongol Horde
swept across Asia in the 13th century, it was directly responsible for the
deaths of an absolutely staggering 40 *million* people - that was over 10%
of the global population at the time. All that wanton slaughter left vast swathes
of previously-deforested land to grow back, which in turn locked away
enough carbon to measurably reduce atmospheric CO2 and perhaps
even cool the planet in the process. Altering the temperature of an entire planet
just by murdering people is pretty impressive by anyone's standards, but that's only one of
the myriad ways Genghis Khan reshaped our world. In what is quite possibly the greatest rags
to riches story ever told, the Great Khan shrugged off being abandoned by his tribe
at the age of eight to forge an empire that, at its peak, covered almost 20% of earth's land
and contained twenty *five* percent of its people. But as you're about to find out, Genghis Khan
wasn't just some nutter with a load of horses intent on watching the world burn - he was
a statesman centuries ahead of his time, not to mention quite possibly the greatest
leader of men ever to walk the earth. This is the story of Genghis Khan -
the man who ruled the world... nearly. I usually start biography-style videos
by giving you a bit of background about the person in question - when and where they
were born for example. But I'm not going to do that for Genghis Khan. And the *reason* I'm not
going to do it is simple: nobody actually knows. At first it might seem odd that we don't
know this kind of basic information about one of the most influential human
beings of all time, but it turns out that much of Genghis Khan's life is equally
shrouded in mystery - and for good reason. You see, when he rose to power at
the tail end of the 12th century, the Mongols had no writing system. And
no writing system meant that not a single contemporary account of Genghis Khan's
early life was ever written. In fact, almost everything we know about those early
years comes from a single book called the Secret History of the Mongols - and get this: we
have no idea who wrote it, or even if it's true. So, with that in mind, here's what we
*think* we know about Genghis Khan. He was born in either 1155, 1162, or 1167,
depending on who you ask. Not a great start really is it. Nobody knows for sure
which of those dates is accurate (or indeed if any of them are), but the
Mongolian People's Republic celebrated the 800th anniversary of his birth in
1962, so 1162 is probably our best bet. Whenever he was born, back then
he wasn't called Genghis Khan, but Temüjin, and according to legend he emerged
kicking and screaming into this world clutching a blood clot in his hand - a sure sign
that he was to become a mighty warrior. His father was a man named Yesugei, chieftain
of a powerful tribe, and his mother, well, Yesugei had kidnapped her from the
nearby Merkit tribe and married her, which sounds pretty brutal but from what I can
tell that was basically just dating in those days. As the son of a prominent chieftain,
Genghis Khan - Temüjin - was born into a life of relative privilege, and he spent his
younger years learning the ways of the Steppes, riding, hunting, and... actually it was
pretty much just riding and hunting. But there comes a time in all our lives when
we finally have to grow up, get married, and settle down. For Temüjin, that time
came when he was about 8 - that's when was betrothed to a girl named Börte
- the daughter of a rival chieftain. The match was supposed to bring the two
clans together, but things went awry when Yesugei was poisoned by members of another
clan, the Tartars. Emergency healthcare not being up to much in 12th century
Mongolia, 3 days later he was dead. Losing his father was a huge personal blow to the
young Temüjin - but as he was about to find out, it was a disaster for his career prospects too. Yesugei had 6 children at the time of his death,
but none were old enough to rule. That created a power vacuum within the tribe, and like all good
vacuums, this one sucked - especially for Temüjin. Your average Mongol tribe was made up
of several clans, which were essentially extended families. Yesugei was of the noble
Borjigin clan, but there were also members of the powerful Tayichiud clan within the
tribe, and with Yesugei out of the picture, the Tayichiuds seized control. To tie up any
loose ends, they kicked the surviving members of Yesugei's family out of the tribe, leaving
Temüjin and his kin to fend for themselves. The Mongolian steppe is an incredibly
unforgiving environment - the kind of place even Bear Grylls would book himself
into a nice hotel rather than take his chances outside. For a fatherless family alone in the
wilderness it should have been a death sentence, but somehow they survived, at first foraging for
barely-edible roots and hard-to-find berries, and later supplementing their
meagre diet with fish and game. But as Temüjin and his siblings grew older,
tensions began to rise. There were the usual teenage-boy-squabbles about who could do
the loudest armpit fart or who could grow the best moustache, but underneath it all was
something a little more... sinister. None of Yesugei's children had forgotten the small
matter of being abandoned by their tribe and several - Temüjin among them - harboured dreams
of one day returning to reclaim their birthright. Genghis Khan would one day be
feared the world over for the terrifying ruthlessness he showed his
enemies, and it was here that the boy who would become the legend gave history
its first glimpse of what was to come. Since he was the eldest son of Yesugei and his
chief wife, Temüjin believed that *he* should be the head of the family. But his half
brother, Behter, who was two years older, also had a reasonable claim to that title. After
a series of fallings out over how to divide the family's meagre food supply, Temüjin decided
it was time to act. Along with his younger brother he waited until Behter was alone, then
ambushed him and murdered him in cold blood. There's nothing like a bit of good old
fashioned fratricide to make things awkward at family gatherings, but it seems
Temüjin's siblings were the forgiving type, because after the death of Behter,
Temüjin was universally accepted as the head of the family. And
he quickly grew into the role. Even back then at the age of 14 people were
beginning to notice him. It wasn't just that he was fast growing into a skilled
hunter and fearsome fighter - that wasn't particularly unusual for a boy
of his age on the Mongolian Steppe. There was just... something about him.
Despite his tender years, when he spoke, people listened. Although not everyone
was happy to hear what he had to say. When Yesugei's old tribe learned
of Temüjin's growing reputation, they realised immediately that it could
spell trouble - it was only a matter of time before the young warrior returned
to reclaim what they'd stolen from him. Rather than wait for that to happen,
his old tribe - still under Tayichiud management - went on the offensive, attacking
Temüjin's camp and taking him prisoner. It's funny to think that, had they done the
sensible thing and executed him there and then, the entire course of world history would
have been completely different. Instead, the tribe's chieftain went down
the James-Bond-Supervillain route and kept Temüjin around for a
while so he could show off a bit. Being a massive Bond fan (probably),
Temüjin simply bided his time, waiting for the inevitable opportunity to escape
to present itself. And present itself it did. In a bit of a departure from the
classic Bond-villain playbook, the tribesman took a break from taunting Temüjin
to go and get mind-meltingly drunk - you wouldn't catch Blofeld doing that sort of thing. There
weren't any lasers or buzz saws back then, so, to stop the young prisoner from running
off, the Tayichiud chieftain locked a huge wooden board around his neck and left him
under the watchful gaze of an armed guard. But a plank of wood and a single guard was never
going to be enough to contain the boy who would one day become Genghis Khan. Temüjin waited until
his guard was distracted, then gathered all of his formidable strength and attacked, smashing the
unsuspecting tribesman over the head with the wooden board before escaping into the night and
eventually making his way back to his family. When he turned 15 Temüjin was officially
considered an adult by Mongolian law, and now that he was all grown up and
stuff he decided it was high time he started trying to take over the world.
But first, he had to go see about a girl. Despite not having laid eyes on him since she was
8 years old, the now-teenaged Börte was delighted to see her old flame alive and well, and the two
were soon married just as Yesugei had planned it. During the festivities Börte's father presented
Temüjin with a fancy cloak made of black sable, the most highly prized fur
on the Mongolian Steppe. We've all been given presents we didn't really
want before and soon-to-be-Genghis-Khan was no exception, because he re-gifted
this prized piece of Mongolian haute couture to an old friend of
his dad's by the name of Toghrul, Kahn of a powerful tribe called the Keraites.
Being something of a fashionista (probably) Toghrul was delighted with the gift, and
he swiftly took Temüjin under his wing. It was a good job he did, because
not long afterwards Temüjin's camp was attacked by a raiding party
from the Merkit tribe. Yeah, *that* Merkit tribe - the same one Yesugei
had kidnapped Temüjin's mother from all those years before. Turns out they hadn't
forgotten. And they'd come back for revenge. But it wasn't Temüjin's mother they were
after this time - after five children and a hard life as a single mum alone on
the Mongolian Steppe she wasn't really wife-stealing material. No, the Merkit's
came for Temüjin's young bride Börte, and after successfully kidnapping her they
married her off to one of their own. It was a classic 'you steal my wife, I'll steal
yours' kind of thing. We've all been there. Temujin had been off galavanting in the mountains
with his mates during the raid, but when he learned what had happened he went straight to
Toghrul and begged for help. I can only assume the old warlord looked *really* good in black sable,
because he didn’t just agree to help, he offered to personally lead an army of 20,000 men to rescue
Börte. He also persuaded Jamukha - an old friend of Temüjin's who'd risen to lead the Jadaran
tribe, to commit another 20,000 men to the cause. I’m guessing it was around the time those 40,000
angry tribesmen appeared on the horizon that the Merkit wifenappers realised they'd fucked up.
They were utterly crushed by Temüjin’s impromptu coalition and Börte was saved, though there was
one minor complication: she was pregnant. We still don't really know for sure whether the child
was Temüjin's or the son of the Merkit warrior Börte was forced to marry, but Temüjin did the
honourable thing and raised the child as his own. Dubious descendants aside, the battle with the
Merkits firmly established the young Temüjin as a force on the Mongolian Steppe for the
first time. He'd made some powerful allies, and he was rapidly raising a formidable army
of fighting men all of his own... but just a year after Börte's rescue,
things went wrong once again. This time it started with a falling out.
Temüjin and Jamukha had been childhood friends, and like many young lads growing up together there
was a certain friendly rivalry between them. But sprinkle a bit of power and ego into the mix,
and even the friendliest of rivalries can sour. According to the most commonly told version of
the story, things came to a head when Jamukha made a disparaging remark about Temüjin's
choice of camp. Words were exchanged, fists were shaken, mothers were insulted...
and by the time the two men parted they were mortal enemies - the 12th century Mongolian
version of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort: neither could live while the other survived. The inevitable showdown came in 1187 when their
respective forces met in what is known today as the Battle of Dalan Baljut. Considering the
fact that the-man-who-became-Genghis-Khan is one of the most famous generals who ever
lived you're probably assuming Temüjin hit Jamukha with a quick Avada Kedavra and
that was that. But surprisingly enough it was almost the complete opposite - despite
the fact the two armies were evenly matched, Temüjin was so soundly defeated he was essentially
Expelliarmussed clean out of the history books. For the following *8 years* nobody really knows
what happened to him. He just... disappeared. These days many historians believe he was
forced to flee over the border into China, where he was made to work as a slave for the
emperors of Jin dynasty. Others think he was simply biding his time in a remote corner of the
Mongolian Steppe as he slowly rebuilt his forces. Whatever he was up to during his gap...decade,
in 1195 Temujin returned to the Steppe with one thing on his mind: vengeance. Through means
that remain unclear, he'd somehow managed to gain himself a shiny new army, and he soon joined
forces with his old friend and mentor Toghrul. Temujin 2.0 was a different beast entirely to
the one defeated by Jamukha 8 years earlier. He'd always been a ruthless man, but as he waged
war across the steppe with Toghrul at his side, he took that trait to a whole new level. He
wasn't content merely to defeat his enemies in the field - he sought to utterly destroy them.
When all the warriors of a rival tribe were dead, Temüjin would take their women as spoils of war, then order his men to slaughter
all but the very youngest children. This staggering brutality was useful in two ways.
Not only did it ensure he wouldn't inadvertently create mini versions of himself - wronged youths
who might one day grow up and seek revenge against him - it also had a profound psychological impact
on rival tribes. The message was crystal clear: anyone who stood against Temüjin and lost
could expect no mercy - they and their families would be deleted from the annals of
history. Perhaps unsurprisingly, many tribes joined Temüjin's cause without a fight. With each passing victory
Temüjin's fledgling Mongol Horde was slowly transforming into one
of the most formidable fighting forces ever assembled. But that transformation
wasn't just martial... it was social too. Like many societies before and since,
Mongol tribes were structured around social class - the most important roles were
given to the people with the highest social standing. But Temüjin did things differently:
he promoted people based purely on ability. The most famous example is probably
Subutai. Born the son of a blacksmith, in most Mongol tribes he would have
had no chance of rising through the ranks. But in Temüjin's revolutionary meritocracy
Subutai became the Mongol Empire's chief military strategist. Today he is widely regarded as one
of the greatest generals ever to have lived, credited with conquering more territory than
any other military commander in history. Another way Temüjin shook things up was in how
he divided the spoils of war after a victory. As per traditional Mongol customs, a big chunk of
the loot usually went to the tribe's chieftain, with the rest being shared out among the
men. But Temüjin divided his swag equally, taking no more for himself than
he gave to the lowliest soldier. These reforms - and many others - worked
spectacularly well. Temüjin's ever-growing horde was both deadly and fiercely
loyal. But there was one small downside. Broadly speaking Temüjin's reforms
created a fairer society - the common man had the same opportunities - and
could expect the same rewards - as a high-born prince. That was great... if
you were a common man. The established Mongol nobility, on the other
hand, were rather less keen. As far as they were concerned, Temüjin wasn't just uniting the Mongol tribes - he was
initiating a full scale revolution. This shift in long-established social
norms prompted some of Temüjin's oldest allies - including old sable-cloak Toghrul
- to turn on him. But it was far too late to stop the Juggernaut. Toghrul was
defeated, and by 1204, all that stood between Temüjin and the unification
of the Mongols was one man: Jamukha. Temüjin's greatest frenemy had been appointed
Khan of the remaining 13 tribes still not on Temüjin's side. And it was only a matter of time
before the two men met in the field once more. After the Battle of Dalan Baljut, Jamukha
had proven himself to be a bit of a dick and a lot of a bad winner. And when I
say bad winner, what I really mean is, rather than, I don't know.. patting himself
on the back and dishing out a few fist bumps, he brutally murdered 70 of Temujin's soldiers by
boiling them alive. As you can probably imagine, that hadn't gone down too
well with... well, anyone. Which is why, when Temüjin showed up on
the scene again in 1195, many of Jamukha’s most important generals immediately defected to
Temüjin. Jamukha still had the larger force, but the defections tipped the balance, and while the
details of the battle have been lost to history, the outcome was clear: Temüjin scored a decisive
victory (and Jamukha got his head chopped off). By 1206, the scattered tribes of
the Mongolian Steppe stood united under one ruler. To honour his historic
victory, Temüjin was given a new name: one that still echoes through the
corridors of history 800 years later: Genghis Khan. Scholars are somewhat divided as to what
exactly that impressive-sounding name was supposed to signify. It's quite possible
Temüjin just.. thought it sounded cool, but the most common explanation is that it meant
something along the lines of 'Universal Ruler.' While we're talking about names, you may have
noticed that 'Genghis' Khan is also sometimes called *Chinggis* Khan. The reason for the
confusion is that Mongolian and English have very different alphabets, and transliterating
between the two is a tricky business. 'Genghis' was the original anglicised version of
Temujin's assumed name, but *Chinggis* is actually closer to the Mongolian pronunciation,
so many modern scholars prefer that version. Anyway, by the time Genghis.. or Chinggis united
the Mongols, he had been at almost constant war for close to *30 years.* And in those three
decades of warring, winning, (and losing), the artist formerly known as Temüjin had
gained something priceless - experience. Genghis Khan's Mongol Horde is often portrayed
as an unstoppable force that steamrollered its way across Eurasia through sheer weight
of men and horses. But the truth is, most of the time the Mongols were actually
massively outnumbered by their enemies. Genghis Khan didn't win because his army was
bigger - he won because it was *better.* Better organised, better led, and filled with
men who were almost pathologically loyal. The Mongols also had some unique advantages
that few other militaries in history can match. Countless armies both ancient and modern have
been defeated not on the field of battle, but by simple logistics - feeding and supplying a large
army is difficult, and as you advance further into enemy territory or throw changing weather
conditions into the mix, it gets harder still. But the Mongol army was different. These men were
expert hunter-gatherers, perfectly adapted to nomadic life on the unforgiving Mongolian Steppe.
So long as they spread out a bit when on the move they were essentially self-sufficient. The horses
fed on whatever was nearby, and the men hunted, fished, and foraged as needed. History has
shown that an army's supply line is often its weakest point, but the Mongols *had* no
supply lines. They simply didn't need them. Add this remarkable flexibility
and self-sufficiency to a huge force of unprecedentedly mobile
and extremely deadly fighters and you had an incredibly lethal combination. And the rest of the world
simply wasn't ready for it. Speaking of the rest of the world, with
all of the Mongolian Steppe now under his command, Genghis Khan turned
his attention to the lands beyond. First up on the Mongol menu was the Chinese
imperial dynasty of Western Xia, a key part of the Silk Road and, more importantly,
an entry point into the rest of China. To an outside observer Genghis Khan's invasion
of Western Xia would probably have looked like a huge tactical blunder. For one thing
the Mongols were outnumbered two to one, but there was also the small matter of the entire
Gobi desert that lay between them and the enemy. The idea of a giant army crossing the
world's sixth largest desert with 30,000 men on horses might sound insane, but while
the Mongols weren't exactly desert people, they were incredibly hardy. When times got
especially tough, they would drink milk from their horses in order to stay alive. And when
times got *oh-shit-we're-all-going-to-die* tough, they would open a vein on their
horses' flank and drink the blood. So, thanks to a spot of equine vampirism
the Mongol horde made it safely across the desert. But what they found on
the other side was just as daunting. The tribes of the Mongolian Steppe were
nomadic - they moved their camps around with the seasons to ensure a constant
supply of food both for themselves and for their livestock - especially the horses.
But by their very nature nomadic tribes don't tend to be overly big on building things. So
when Genghis Khan turned up in Western Xia spoiling for a fight, he was faced with
something he'd never seen before: walls. OK so Genghis Khan probably knew what
walls were, but the fact remained that, being a nomad, he didn't have all that much
experience with them. And that was a problem, because in Western Xia they were
absolutely bloody everywhere. When the Great Khan's mighty horde arrived
outside the thick walls of the capital of Zhongxing in 1209, it was clear that
an attack was impossible. Instead, the Mongols were forced to camp
outside while their mightiest military minds tried to figure out just what
the hell they were going to do next. Destroying the walls wasn't an option because the
Mongols had never developed any siege weapons (not that you can really blame them - you don't
exactly need a trebuchet to break into a yurt). After double-checking that horses
definitely couldn't climb walls - worth a try - one of the Khan's commanders came up with
an intriguing (and absolutely brutal) idea - if they couldn't break through the walls, why
not just murder everyone inside instead? To that end the Mongols started building a large
dam across the mighty Yellow River that flowed alongside the city. The plan was simple: change
the course of the river so that it ran smack through the middle of Zhongxing, drowning every
man, woman, and child inside in the process. Luckily for the people of Zhongxing, the
tent-dwelling Mongols weren't exactly the world's greatest builders, and while they *did* succeed
in diverting the river, rather than engulf the city as intended they managed to flood their own
camp instead. Not Genghis Khan's finest hour that. Still, in the end it was only a minor
setback. Despite having far more soldiers, the Western Xia army was poorly led and
scattered across the country, with the bulk of the men far away on the southern border.
They were simply no match for the mighty Mongol murder machine, and after suffering a series
of defeats, in 1210 Western Xia surrendered, effectively becoming the first vassal
state of the world's newest empire. Genghis Khan wasted no time pushing deeper
into China and the territory of the powerful Jin dynasty. As we've already seen, it's
likely he'd spent some time as a slave under the Jin emperors after his defeat at the
hands of Jamukha. If that was indeed the case, the time had come to take his revenge.
And you know what they say - revenge is a dish best served by 75,000 men on
horseback murdering everyone in sight. If invading Western Xia had been a bold move,
taking on the Jin Dynasty was practically suicidal - by some counts, the Mongol army
was outnumbered *eight-to-one* by their Jin counterparts. Not only that, but Jin territory
was defended by the legendary Great Wall of China, although luckily for the Mongols, in those days it
was more of a 'fairly decent palisade' of China, and in the end they made it into Jin
territory without too much trouble. As had been the case in Western Xia,
the Mongols still had to figure out how the hell to attack all those cities with
great big walls that were inconveniently dotted around everywhere - including the
Jin capital Zhongdu, modern day Beijing. But this is where the brilliance of Genghis Khan's
meritocracy really started to pay dividends. Because it was largely son-of-a-blacksmith-Subutai
who figured out what to do next. He realised that it was ultimately pointless
for the Mongol army to attack the larger Jin cities without siege weapons - it would take
too long and cost too many lives. Instead, he suggested they should do the exact
opposite and attack... everything else. Guided by Subutai, the Mongol army
went on an absolute rampage, tearing across Jin lands and annihilating absolutely
everything that wasn't protected by a wall. They burned fields and razed villages. They
murdered tens of thousands of peasants and took tens of thousands more prisoner to use
as human shields against Jin soldiers. When they came to larger towns they would attack
with lightning speed, capture the settlement, then immediately retreat, forcing the Jin to
spend time and energy reoccupying strategically unimportant territory. For the Jin it was like
fighting smoke. Really fucking angry smoke. The net result was utter chaos, and refugees
soon clogged the streets as food supplies dwindled. Suddenly being ensconced behind high
city walls didn’t feel quite so safe anymore. At the same time, Genghis Khan was learning.
Sooner or later he was going to have to figure out how to take large cities, and that
meant developing siege weapons. Since none of his men had any idea how to do that,
he instead began covertly recruiting siege engineers directly from the enemy.
Soon enough Jin siege experts were teaching the Mongols how to build catapults
to break down the walls of their own cities. This willingness to learn from the
people he conquered would become a defining trait of Genghis Khan's Empire.
As well as siege weapons the Mongols gained written language from the Uighurs
and gunpowder weapons from the Chinese, along with a whole host of armour and weapon
upgrades from the various people they conquered. Despite Subutai's war of chaos in the countryside
and the Mongol's ever-improving skills in siege warfare, Genghis Khan was unable to completely
defeat the Jin, and in 1215 he returned to the Mongolian Steppe. With China proving a
tough nut to crack for the time being, he instead began to look to the west
to the empire of the Qara Khitai. A few years earlier in 1213 the Qara Khitai
dynasty had been overthrown in a coup staged by a chap called Kuchlug. As it happens, Kuchlug
was a (former) prince of the Mongolian Steppe who'd been forced to flee west when Genghis
Khan defeated his tribe. Kuchlug had wasted no time making his mark on his new empire, and
in 1216 he attempted to expand it by attacking the nearby city of Almaliq. This turned out to
be a monumentally terrible idea for two reasons. One, Almaliq was under the governorship of the
Karluks, vassals of the Mongolian Empire. And two, the city was ruled by Genghis Khan's
grandson-in-law - and if there was one thing you really, *really* didn't want to
be doing in 13th century Central Asia it was murdering members of Genghis Khan's extended
family... as Kuchlug was about to find out. The Great Khan promptly dispatched 20,000 warriors
to liberate Almaliq and hunt down Kuchlug. As per usual the Mongols were outnumbered, but -
also as per usual - it didn't matter. Kuchlug suffered several heavy defeats, and soon enough
entire cities were defecting to the Mongols, although for once it had nothing to do
with their fear of imminent destruction. You see, Kuchlug was a Buddhist, and after gaining
power he'd begun ruthlessly persecuting the local muslims. Genghis Khan, on the other hand, had
realised early on that religious persecution would only cause him a headache he didn't need. Instead,
he allowed free practice of any and all religions within his growing empire. Bearing in mind that
freedom of religion isn't exactly a given in many parts of the world even today, it's fair to
say this policy was centuries ahead of its time. Between the military victories and countless
defections, the Mongols polished off the vast Qara Khitai empire in under a year,
giving Genghis Khan huge swathes of land across modern day China, Kazakhstan,
Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan, and Uzbekistan. By this point I assume the world's cartographers
had all gone on strike citing impossible working conditions - thanks to the Mongol's ceaseless
victories the world's borders were changing on an almost weekly basis. And after
the assimilation of the Qara Khitai empire by the Mongol Borg, one of those
brand-spanking new borders now lay between two of the world's great superpowers
- the Mongol and Khwarazmian Empires. After a solid 30 years or so of almost
non-stop war, Genghis Khan had apparently had enough of fighting, because for once
he didn't go to meet his new neighbours all-bows-blazing. The Khwarazmian Empire was a
wealthy centre of culture and learning that lay along an important section of the Silk Road.
So rather than attempt yet another invasion, Genghis Khan decided to try and make
friends with the empire's powerful Shah. In 1218 he sent a grand caravan of some 450
merchants carrying steel, silk, and other valuables to establish a trade route between the
two empires. When the merchants arrived in the city of Otrar, the local governor was absolutely
delighted with the riches he saw before him. So delighted, in fact, that he decided to simply take
them for himself and murder all the merchants that had brought them. (Spoiler alert, things aren't
going to end well for the greedy governor). Genghis Khan was on the other side of Asia
at the time, fighting his old foes the Jin. But when he heard what had happened
to his trade caravan he immediately dispatched a diplomatic envoy directly
to the Shah to demand an explanation. Now, I can only assume the Khwarazmian top brass
hadn't been watching CNN over the previous 10 years or so, because it seems they had absolutely
no idea just who the fuck they were dealing with. Rather than do the sensible thing and get
down on his hands and knees to beg for mercy, the Shah only bloody went and doubled down by
murdering - or in some cases mutilating - the Mongolian diplomats. (Spoiler alert, things
aren't going to end well for him either). As you can probably imagine, when our
friend Genghis heard about this latest insult... he absolutely lost his shit.
Despite being in the middle of a mini war in Jin territory he essentially
just downed tools and rode west. Genghis Khan had shown himself to
be incredibly ruthless during his years uniting the tribes and the wars
of expansion that followed. But his campaign against the Khwarazmian Empire was
something new. This wasn't about expansion, it was about revenge. The Mongol horde
devastated the Khwarazmian Empire in what remains to this day one of the bloodiest
military campaigns in all of human history. Genghis divided his army into 5 separate forces
that operated independently, appearing as if from nowhere and striking with lightning speed.
Any cities that resisted the Mongol Horde - and several did - were utterly annihilated. In
some cases, entire populations were slaughtered to a man, and by some estimates a total of 15
million people were killed during the campaign. In just two years, the black hole
that was the Mongolian empire had devoured another meal - and grown correspondingly. Oh, and if you're wondering what happened to our
friends the governor of Otrar and the Shah of the empire, allow me to tell you. The man who kicked
this whole crazy business off by murdering the Mongolian Merchants was captured by the Khan's
men and executed. But there would be no swift beheading in his case. No, as punishment for
his greed in stealing the Mongolian trade goods, the governor was put to death through
the unimaginably painful process of having molten silver poured into his eyes,
ears, and mouth. Yeeeah that’ll do it. As for the Shah, he went into full retreat,
fleeing from the advancing Mongols as if all the devils of the seventh circle of
hell were hot on his heels. Which I suppose from his perspective they basically
were. It's thought that he made it as far as the Caspian sea where he died shitting
himself - no seriously, he had dysentery. With another remarkable victory under his
belt Genghis Khan headed back east to China, where a rebellion was in full swing in the lands
of Western Xia. But by now he was an old man, and, somewhat unexpectedly, his prodigious
strength was finally about to fail him. Exactly what it was that killed Genghis Khan
remains unknown to this day. Considering how much war he'd waged in his 6-and-a-bit decades on
God's green earth it would have been fitting for him to have died in battle, but no. Up until
relatively recently it was generally believed he fell ill after being thrown from his horse
during a hunt. But more recently scholars have speculated that he may actually have died from
bubonic plague. (Incidentally, it's thought to have been the Mongols that brought the Black Death
to Europe during the siege of Caffa as part of one of the world's earliest examples of biological
warfare… but that's a story for another day.). Whatever it was that killed him, in 1227 Genghis
Khan was no more. But not even the death of its founder could stop the Juggernaut that was the
Mongol Empire - Genghis Khan's descendents would continue to build on his work for the following
140 years. At its peak, the Empire would cover more than 9 million square miles - that’s almost
two and a half times the size of Europe - and contain more than 100 million people, about
25% of the world’s population at the time. The Mongol Empire remains to this day the largest
contiguous - or ‘interconnected’ - empire in history, and the second largest overall behind
the British Empire of the early 20th century. Genghis Khan died almost eight hundred
years ago, but it seems that eight centuries haven't quite been enough for the world
to figure out exactly what to make of him. He’s often been portrayed - especially in the
west - as a ruthless and bloodthirsty warlord intent on conquering the world by any means
necessary. But every villain is a hero to someone, and it turns out there are really quite
a lot of someones who see Genghis Khan as a truly revolutionary leader whose brutal
methods were simply a product of their time. As is usually the case, the truth is probably a shade of grey that lies somewhere in
between those two black and whites. There's no denying that he was one of the
most charismatic and successful leaders in history. That he achieved everything
he did after being abandoned by his tribe at the age of 8 is genuinely almost
unbelievable. By all logic he should have starved to death on the Mongolian Steppe
before he even reached adulthood. And yet somehow he not only survived - he went on to
found one of the largest empires in history. Not only that, as well as all the conquering
stuff he also encouraged international trade, promoted the spread of ideas across the world,
supported freedom of religion, revolutionised warfare, and built a genuine meritocracy
that celebrated ability, not birthright. Of course, there's *also* no denying that Genghis
Khan was incredibly brutal when he needed to be… and probably sometimes simply when he wanted
to be too. He believed in utterly destroying his enemies so as to ensure they would
never pose a threat in the future, and he was prepared to follow through on that belief
by... basically murdering everyone in sight. Ultimately, it's difficult to judge
the deeds of a man who lived 800 years ago - by modern standards he was a
genocidal land-grabbing maniac. But then again, so was everyone else you
learned about in history class. Whatever your views on the man, the myth, the
legend, what isn't up for debate is that Genghis Khan was one of the most influential human
beings ever to have lived. A force of nature who dramatically changed our world in
ways that are still being felt today. Thanks for watching.
