Podcasts about Xiongnu

This episode we continue to follow the monk Xuanzang on his path along the silk road.  From Gaochang, he traveled through the Tarim Basin, up over the Tianshan Mountains, to the heart of the Western Gokturk Qaghanate.  From there, he traveled south, through the region of Transoxania to Bactria and the land of Tukhara.  He pushed on into the Hindu Kush, witnessing the stone Buddha statues of Bamiyan, and eventually made his way to the land of Kapisa, near modern Kabul, Afghanistan.  From there he would prepare to enter the Indian subcontinent: the home of the historical Buddha. For more discussion and some photos of the areas along this journey, check out our podcast blog at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-121   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 121: Journey to the West, Part 2   The cold winds blew through the travelers' doubled up clothing and thick furs.  Cold, wet ground meant that even two sets of boots were not necessarily enough after several days.  The frozen mist would often obscure everything except for the path immediately in front, hiding the peaks and making the sky a uniform white. In many places, the path would be blocked by rock, ice, or snow—the remnants of an avalanche, which could easily take an unsuspecting traveler.  And there was the elevation.  Hiking through the mountains, it was easy enough to reach heights of a mile or higher, and for those not accustomed to that elevation the thin air could take a surprising toll, especially if you were pushing yourself.  And the road was no less kind to the animals that would be hauling said travelers and their gear. And yet, this was the path that Xuanzang had agreed to.  He would continue to push through, despite the various deprivations that he would be subjected to.  No doubt he often wondered if it was worth it.  Then again, returning was just as dangerous a trip, so why not push on?   Last episode we introduced the monk Xuanzang, who traveled the Silk Road to India in the 7th century and returned to China.  He brought back numerous sutras to translate, and ended up founding a new school, known as the Faxian school—or the Hossou school in Japan.   As we mentioned last time, Xuanzang during his lifetime met with students from the archipelago when they visited the continent.  The records of his travels—including his biography and travelogue—are some of the best information we have on what life was like on the silk road around this time. In the last episode, we talked about Xuanzang: how he set out on his travels, his illegal departure from the Tang empire, and his perilous journey across the desert, ending up in Gaochang.  There, King Qu Wentai had tried to get him to stay, but he was determined to head out.  This episode we are going to cover his trip to Agni, Kucha, and Baluka—modern Aksu—and up to the Western Gokturk Qaghanate's capital of Suyab.  From there, we'll follow his footsteps through the Turkic controlled regions of Transoxania and into Tukhara, in modern Afghanistan.  Finally, we'll cover the last parts of his journey before he reached the start of his goal:  India. From Gaochang, Xuanzang continued on, through the towns he names as Wuban and Dujin, and into the country of Agni—known today as the area of Yanqi—which may also have been known as Wuqi.  The route was well-enough known, but it wasn't necessarily safe.  At one point, Xuanzang's caravan met with bandits, whom they were fortunately able to pay off.  The following night they encamped on a river bank with some merchants who also happened to be traveling the road.  The merchants, though, got up at midnight and headed out, hoping to get to the city early so that they could be the first ones to the market.  They only made it a few miles down the road, however, before they encountered more bandits, who slaughtered them and took their goods.  The following day, Xuanzang and his retinue came upon the merchants' remains lying in the road and saw the aftermath of the massacre. This was an unforgiving land, and the road was truly dangerous, even for those who traveled it regularly.  And yet Xuanzang was planning to travel its entire length until he reached India. So with little alternative, they carried on to the royal city of Agni. Agni, or Yanqi, sits on the southwestern edge of the basin, west of Bositeng lake, on the border between the Turfan basin and the larger Tarim Basin.  The name is thought to be a Tocharian—or Turfanian—name for the city, which is also known as Karashr. According to the biography by Huili, Xuanzang and his party didn't stay long in Agni.  Apparently Agni and Gaochang were not exactly on friendly terms, and even though the King of Agni and his ministers reportedly came out to greet Xuanzang and welcome him to their city, they refused to provide any horses.  They spent a single night and moved on. That said, Agni still made an impression on Xuanzang.  He noted how the capital was surrounded by hills on four sides, making it naturally defensible.  As for the people, he praises them as honest and straightforward.  They wore clothing of felt and hemp cloth, and cut their hair short, without hats or any kind of headwear.  Even the climate was pleasant, at least for the short time he was there.  He also notes that they used a script based on India—likely referring to the Brahmic script, which we find in the Tarim basin. However, as for the local lord, the King of Agni, he is a little less charitable.  Xuanzang claimed he was brave but “lacked resourcefulness” and he was a bit of a braggart.  Furthermore, the country had “no guiding principles or discipline and government orders are imperfect and not seriously implemented.”  He also mentioned the state of Buddhism in the country, noting that they were followers of Sarvastivada school, a Theravada sect popular along the Silk Road at the time.  Xuanzang was apparently not too pleased with the fact that they were not strict vegetarians, including the “three kinds of pure meat”.  From Agni, Xuanzang continued southwest, heading for the kingdom of Kucha.  He seems to have bypassed the nearby kingdom of Korla, south of Agni, and headed some 60 or 70 miles, climbing over a ridge and crossing two large rivers, and then proceeding another 200 miles or so to the land of Kucha. Kucha was a kingdom with over one hundred monasteries and five thousand monks following a form of Theravada Buddhism.  Here, Xuanzang was welcomed in by the king, Suvarnadeva, described as having red hair and blue eyes.  While Xuanzang was staying in Kucha, it is suspected that he probably visited the nearby Kizil grotto and the Buddhist caves, there, which include a painting of King Suvarnadeva's father, King Suvarnapuspa, and his three sons. You can still visit Kucha and the Kizil grottos today, although getting there is quite a trek, to be sure.  The ancient Kuchean capital is mostly ruins, but in the Kizil caves, protected from the outside elements, you can find vivid paintings ranging from roughly the 4th to the 8th century, when the site was abandoned.  Hundreds of caves were painted, and many still demonstrate vibrant colors.  The arid conditions protect them from mold and mildew, while the cave itself reduces the natural bleaching effect of sunlight.  The paintings are in numerous styles, and were commissioned by various individuals and groups over the years.  They also give us some inkling of how vibrant the city and similar structures must have been, back when the Kuchean kingdom was in its heyday. The people of Kucha are still something of a mystery.  We know that at least some of them spoke an Indo-European language, related to a language found in Agni, and both of these languages are often called Tocharian, which we discussed last episode.  Xuanzang himself noted that they used Indian writing, possibly referring to the Brahmi script, or perhaps the fact that they seem to have used Sanskrit for official purposes, such as the inscription on the cave painting at Kizil giving the name of King Suvarnapuspa.  The Kucheans also were clothed in ornamental garments of silk and embroidery.  They kept their hair cut, wearing a flowing covering over their heads—and we see some of that in the paintings. Xuanzang also notes that though we may think of this area as a desert, it was a place where rice and grains, as well as fruit like grapes, pomegranates, plums, pears, peaches, and almonds were grown.  Even today, modern Xinjiang grows some absolutely fantastic fruit, including grapes, which are often dried into raisins. Another point of interest for Xuanzang may have been that Kucha is known as the hometown of none other than Kumarajiva.  We first mentioned Kumarajiva back in episode 84.  Kumarajiva was one of the first people we know of who translated many of the sutras from India that were then more widely disseminated throughout the Yellow River and Yangzi river basins.  His father was from India and his mother was a Kuchean princess.  In the middle of the 4th century, when he was still quite young, he traveled to India and back with his mother on a Buddhist pilgrimage.  Later he would start a massive translation project in Chang'an.  His translations are credited with revolutionizing Chinese Buddhism. Xuanzang was initially welcomed by the king, his ministers, and the revered monk, Moksagupta.  They were accompanied by several thousand monks who set up tents outside the eastern gate, with portable Buddha images, which they worshipped, and then Xuanzang was taken to monastery after monastery until sunset.  At one of the monasteries, in the southeast of the city, there were several tens of monks who originally came from Gaochang, and since Xuanzang had come from there, they invited him to stay with them. The next day he met and feasted with the King, politely declining any meat, and then went to the monastery in the northwest to meet with the famous monk: Moksagupta.  Moksagupta himself had made the journey to India, and had spent 20 years there himself.  It seems like this would have been the perfect person for Xuanzang to talk to about his plans, but instead, the two butted heads.  Moksagupta seems to have seen Xuanzang's Mahayana faith as heretical.  He saw no reason for Xuanzang to travel all the way to India when he had all the sutras that anyone needed there in Kucha, along with Moksagupta himself.   Xuanzang's response seems to have been the Tang dynasty Buddhist version of “Okay, Boomer”, and then he went ahead and tore apart Moksagupta's understanding of his own sutras—or so Xuanzang relayed to his biographers.  We don't exactly have Moksagupta's side, and, let's face it, Xuanzang and his biographers are not necessarily reliable narrators.  After all, they followed Mahayana teachings, which they considered the “Greater Vehicle”, and they referred to the Theravada teachings as the “Hinayana” or “Lesser Vehicle”.  Meanwhile, Theravada Buddhists likely saw many of the Mahayana texts as extraneous, even heretical, not believing them to actually be the teachings of the Buddha. It must have been winter time, as the passes through the mountains on the road ahead were still closed, and so Xuanzang stayed in Kucha, spending his time sightseeing and meeting with various people.  He even went back to see Moksagupta, but the older monk shunned him, and would get up and exit the room rather than engaging with him, so they had no more conversations. Eventually, Xuanzang continued on his way west, following along the northern rim of the Tarim basin.  Two days out from Kucha, disaster struck.  Some two thousand or so Turkish bandits suddenly appeared—I doubt Xuanzang was counting, so it may have been more or less.  I imagine that memories of what had happened to the merchants near Agni must have gone through Xuanzang's mind.   Fortunately, for him, they were fighting over loot that they had pillaged from various travelers, and since they couldn't share it equally, they fell to fighting each other and eventually dispersed. He travelled for almost 200 miles after that, stopping only for a night at the Kingdom of Baluka, aka Gumo—the modern city of Aksu.  This was another Theravada Buddhist kingdom.  Xuanzang noted tens of Buddhist temples, and over 1000 Buddhist monks.  The country was not large—about 200 miles east to west and 100 miles north to south.  For reference that means it was probably comparable in size with Kyushu, in terms of overall area, or maybe the size of Denmark—excluding Greenland—or maybe the US state of Maryland.  Xuanzang described the country as similar to Kucha in just about every way, including the written language and law, but the spoken language was different, though we don't get many more details. From Baluka, he crossed northward through the Tianshan mountains, which are classified as an extension of the Pamirs known as the Ice Mountains.  Had he continued southwest, he would have hit Kashgar and crossed over between the Pamir and Tian Shan ranges into the Ferghana valley, but instead he turned north. We don't know exactly why he took this perilous option, but the route that may have been popular at the time as it was one of the most direct routes to the seat of the Western Gokturk Empire, which he was currently traveling through. The Tian Shan mountains were a dangerous journey.  Avalanches could block the road—or worse.  Xuanzang describes the permanent ice fields—indeed, it is the ice fields and glaciers of the Tian Shan that melt in the summer and provide the oasis towns of the Tarim Basin with water, even to this day.  In Xuanzang's day, those glaciers were likely even more prevalent than today, especially as they have been recorded as rapidly disappearing since 1961.  And where you weren't on snow and ice, the ground was probably wet and damp from the melt.  To keep warm, you would wear shoes over your shoes, along with heavy fur coats, all designed to reduce exposure. Xuanzang claims that 3 or 4 of every 10 people didn't survive the crossing—and that horses and oxen fared even worse.  Even if these numbers are an exaggeration, the message is clear:  This was a dangerous journey. After about seven days, Xuanzang came out of the mountains to the “Great Pure Lake”, the “Da Qing Hai”, also known as the Hot Sea or the Salt Sea, which likely refers to Issyk Kul.  The salt content, along with the great volume of water it possesses, means that the lake rarely freezes over, which is likely why it is seen as “hot” since it doesn't freeze when the fresh water nearby does.  This lake is the second largest mountain lake in the world, and the second deepest saltwater lake.  Traveling past the lake, he continued to Suyab, near modern Tokmok, in Kyrgyzstan, just west of the modern capital of Bishkek.  This was an old Sogdian settlement, and had since become the capital of the Western Gokturks.  Sogdians—like Xuanzang's guide, Vandak—were integral to the Gokturk kingdom. Their language was the lingua franca of the Silk Road, and at the time of the Gokturk Khaganate, it was also the official court language, and so when Xuanzang appeared at the court of the Great Khagan of the Western Gokturks, it was likely the language of diplomacy. When we think of Turkic people, many in the English speaking world think of Turkiye, and perhaps of the mighty Ottoman empire.  Some may think of Turkmenistan, Kazhakstan, Kyrgyzstan, or Uzbekistan, among others.  And of course, there are the Uyghur people in Xinjiang.  All of these people claim roots in the ancestral Turkic homeland in the Altai mountains, which sit largely in western Mongolia, north of China's Xinjiang region.  Much like the Xiongnu and the Mongols, they were pastoral nomads, moving their herds across the steppes, often covering great distances.  They would regularly move through different regions, perhaps returning each season, though sometimes not returning for years at a time.  They were often seen as barbarians by settled people living in cities, and yet their goods and horses were highly prized. Nomad and sedentary lifestyles would often collide.  Farmers would turn pastureland into fields, and when the nomadic people returned on their circuits, they would find walls and fences where there was once open land, and the people there would claim to “own” the land, a concept often foreign to people who were always on the move.  Nomadic people, such as the Gokturks, were not necessarily keeping vast libraries of records about themselves and their histories, and so much of what we get comes from external sources, which do not always have incredibly reliable narrators.  To many of the settled agriculturalists, groups like the Turks were marauders who raided their villages and farms.  They were a great bogeyman of the steppes, which required the firm hand of strong defenses to keep out—or so their opponents would want people to think. While they were known for their warfare, which incorporated their mobility, but they were keenly interested in trade, as well.  They understood the value of the trade routes and the various cities and states that they included in their empire.  Thus, the Sogdians and the Gokturks seem a natural fit: the Sogdians were more settled, but not entirely so, as demonstrated by their vast trade networks.  And the Sogdians also were part of the greater central Eurasian steppe culture, so the two cultures understood each other, to a degree.  They are even depicted similarly in art, with slight differences, such as long hair that was often associated with Turks over the Sogdians.  In some areas of the Gokturk empire, Sogdians would run the cities, while the Gokturks provided military aid and protection. Xuanzang's description of the people of Suyab, or the “City of Suye River”, doesn't pick out anyone in particular, and he even says that it was a place where traders of the Hu, or foreign, tribes from different countries mingle their abodes.  He mentions the people here as being called Suli, which is also the name given to the language—this may refer to “Sogdian” in general.  They write with an alphabet that is written vertically rather than horizontally—this may refer to a few scripts that were written this way, possibly based off Syriac or Aramaic alphabets that were adapted to Sogdian and other Iranian languages, but it isn't clear. We are told that the people dressed in felt and hemp clothing, with fur and “cotton” garments.  Their clothes fit tightly, and they kept their hair cut short, exposing the top of their heads—though sometimes they shaved it completely, tying a colored silk band around the forehead. He goes on to describe these people as greedy liars, possibly a reference to the mercantile nature of many of the people at the time. Something to note: The Turks of this time had not yet encountered Islam, which was just now starting to rise up in the Middle East.  The Prophet Muhammad is said to have been born around the end of the 6th century CE and was preaching in the early 7th century, though his teachings would begin to spread outward soon enough.  But that means that the Gokturks were not an Islamic empire.  Rather, their own traditions seem to have focused on the worship of Tengri, an Altaic personification of the universe, often simplified as a “sky god”.  Tengrism can be found amongst the Xiongnu, Mongols, and others, and it was the national religion of the Gokturks themselves, but there were many who also adopted other religions that they encountered, including Zoroastrianism, Christianity, Manichaeism, and Buddhism.  In fact, Xuanzang notes that the Turks he met in Suyab would not sleep or sit on beds made of wood because wood was thought to contain the spirit of fire, which he says they worshipped.  That sounds similar to Zoroastrian beliefs, where fire is associated with Ahura Mazda, who is also worshipped as a sky god.  These may have been beliefs inherited from their Eastern Iranian Sogdian partners. In Xuanzang's biography, we are given more details about his visit to Suyab.  Apparently, as he was headed to the city, he met a hunting party, which we are told was the retinue of Yehu Khan.  Hunting was an important part of life on the steppes, and it continued to be a favorite sport of the Gokturk nobility. Yehu Khan—possibly Yagbhu Khan, though that is up for some debate—is described as being dressed in a green silk robe, with his hair exposed, and wearing  a turban of white silk about ten feet long that wrapped his forehead and hung behind his back.  His “hunting” expedition wasn't just a couple of the guys.  It included about 200 officials, all with plaited hair and dressed in brocade robes—they weren't exactly out there roughing it.  He also had his soldiers, dressed in furs, felt, or fine woolen clothes, and there were so many cavalry that they stretched out of sight.  The Khan seemed pleased to meet Xuanzang, but his hunt was expected to last another couple of days, at least, so he sent an attendant named Dharmaja to take Xuanzang back to wait for the Khan to return. Three days later, Xuanzang was given an audience.  The khan was seated in a large yurt.  Xuanzang noted the seeming incongruity between the khan, sitting there in the tent, decorated with golden flowers, with the officials dressed in magnificent brocade garments sitting in two long rows in front of him and the armed guards behind him, compared to the simple felt walls of the tent. A ”yurt” is a common feature of nomadic life on the steppes.  It wasn't exactly a single person operation to haul them around, but they can be taken down and put up with relative ease.  And while yurts could be relatively simple, there are examples of much more elaborate structures.  There is little reason they couldn't be made larger, perhaps with some extra support.  In later centuries, there are examples of giant yurts that seem like real construction projects.  Use of tents, even in a city, where they had permanent palace buildings, was likely a means of retaining the nomadic steppe traditions, even while enjoying the benefits of city life. Whom exactly Xuanzang met with is a matter of debate.  His records seem to indicate that it was Tong Yabghu Qaghan of the Western Gokturk Khaganate, but other sources say that Tong Yabghu Qaghan died in 628, and the earliest Xuanzang could have been meeting with him was 630, two years later, so if that is the case, he must have met with Tong Yabghu's son, Si Yabghu Qaghan.  It is likely that Xuanzang, who was dictating his accounts years after, mentioned the Qaghan and then, when they looked up who it was, they simply made a mistake.  Remember, Xuanzang would have had everything translated through one or two languages.  He did know what he saw, however, and he recounted what he remembered. Tong Yabghu Qaghan oversaw the height of the Gokturk Qaghanate, and appears to have favored the Buddhist religion, though there were many different religions active in their territories at the time.  They oversaw an extremely cosmopolitan empire covering huge swaths of central Eurasia, including the lucrative silk road.  Xuanzang notes that at the court there were individuals from Gaochang and even a messenger from the Han—which is to say the Tang Empire.  One wonders if Xuanzang—or anyone at that time—realized just how tenuous the Khan'sposition was.  After Tong Yabghu's death, the Qaghanate would decline, and less than a decade later it would fall to the Tang dynasty, who took Suyab and made it their western outpost.  In fact, Suyab is thought to have been the birthplace, over a century later, of a young boy who would find a love of poetry.  That boy's name was Li Bai, or Ri Haku, in Japanese. He would become one of the most famous poets in Chinese history, and his poems were even known and studied in Japan.  And it was largely through Japanese study of Li Bai's poems that his works came to the English speaking world: first through Ernest Fenollosa, who had studied in Japan, and then by the celebrated Ezra Pound, who had used Ernest's notes to help with his own translations of the poems. This was, though, as I said, over a century after Xuanzang's journey.  At the time of our story, the Qaghan was throwing a feast, including Xuanzang and all of the foreign envoys.  Xuanzang comments on the food and drink—his hosts provided grape juice in lieu of wine, and cooked a special vegetarian feast just for him, while the other guests ate a feast of meat, such as veal, lamb, fish, and the like.  There was also the music of various regions along the Silk Road, which Xuanzang found to be catchy, but of course not as refined as the music he was used to, of course.  After dinner Xuanzang was asked to expound upon the Darma, largely about the basic principle that you should be kind to one another—I doubt he was getting into the deep mysteries of Buddhist philosophy. Xuanzang stuck around the court for three more days, during which time the Qaghan tried to get him to stay, but Xuanzang insisted that he had to make it to India.  And so the Qaghan relented.  He found men in his army who could translate for Xuanzang along his journey, and had letters of introduction written to at least as far as the state of Kapisa, in modern Afghanistan. And so, armed with the Qaghan's blessing and a fresh translator, Xuanzang struck out again.  They headed westward for over one hundred miles, eventually reaching Bingyul, aka the Thousand Springs.  This is the area where the Qaghan and his court would spend his summers, and the deer in the area were protected under his orders, so that they were not afraid of humans—which sounds similar to the situation with the deer in Nara.  Continuing on another fifty miles or so—the distances are approximate as Xuanzang's primary duty was not exactly to map all of this out—Xuanzang arrived at the city of Taras, in modern Kazakhstan, another place where the cultures of the Silk Road mixed and mingled.  Xuanzang didn't have much to say about Taraz, apparently, though it is one of the oldest cities in Transoxania, founded near the beginning of the Common Era.  A few miles south of there, Xuanzang reportedly found a village of re-settled ethnic Han that had been captured by the Gokturks and settled here.  They had adopted the dress and customs of the Turkic people, but continued to speak a version of Chinese. Southwest of that he reached the City of White Water, likely referring to Aksukent.  This is the same “Aksu” as the city in Xinjiang, both of which mean “White Water” in Turkic, but this one is in the south of Kazakhstan.  Xuanzang found the climate and products an improvement over what he had experienced in Taras.  Beyond that, he next arrived at the city of Gongyu, and then south again to Nujkend, and then traveling westward to the country of Chach, aka Tashkent.  Both Nujkend and Chach were large cities in nations of smaller, mostly autonomous city-states, which made up a lot of the political geography of Transoxania. I would note that Xuanzang's notes here are much more sparse than previously.  This may be because these were outside of the Tarim basin and therefore of less interest to individuals in the Tang empire.  Or perhaps he was just making his way more quickly and not stopping at every kingdom along the way. From Tashkent, he continued southeast to the Ferghana valley—the country of Feihan.  Oddly, this country doesn't appear in Xuanzang's biography, even though the Ferghana Valley seems to have been fairly well known back in the Tang Empire—it was known as the home of some of the best horses, which were one of its first major exports.  In fact, the Han dynasty even mounted a military expedition to travel to Ferghana just to obtain horses.  Xuanzang is oddly silent on this; however, he does talk about the fertile nature of the land.  He mentions that their language here is different from the lands he had been traveling through up to this point, and also points out that the people of the Ferghana valley were also visibly different from others in the area. From the Ferghana valley, Xuanzang headed west for about 300 miles or more to the land of Sutrushana—perhaps referring to the area of Ushrusana, with its capital of Bunjikat.  This country was also largely Sogdian, and described as similar to Tashkent.  From there, he traveled west through a great desert, passing skeletons, which were the only marker of the trail other than a view of the far off mountains.  Finally, they reached Samarkand, known as the country of “Kang” in Chinese, which was also the term used to mark Sogdians who claimed descent from the people of Samarkand. Samarkand is another of the ancient cities of Central Asia, and even today is the third largest city in modern Uzbekistan.  Human activity in the region goes back to the paleolithic era, and the city was probably founded between the 8th and 7th centuries BCE.  Samarkand was conquered by Alexander the Great, and during the Achaemenid Empire it was the capital of Sogdiana.  During Xuanzang's visit, Samarkand was described as an impenetrable fortress with a large population. For all of his travel, Samarkand was the first place Xuanzang notes as specifically not a Buddhist land.  In fact, there were two monasteries, suggesting that there had been Buddhists, but if any monks tried to stay there then the locals would chase them out with fire.  Instead, they worshipped fire—likely meaning Ahura Mazda and Zoroastrianism.  This leads to a story that I have to wonder about, given the reliability of our narrators. It is said that Xuanzang was met by the King with arrogance, but after staying the night Xuanzang was able to tell the King about Buddhism and its merits.  The king was intrigued, and asked to observe the Precepts, and treated Xuanzang with hospitality and respect.  So when two of Xuanzang's attendants went to the monasteries to worship, they were chased out with fire.  When the king heard about this, he had the people arrested and ordered their hands to be cut off.  Xuanzang could not bear to witness such suffering, however, and he intervened to have them spared.  So instead the king had them flogged and banished from the city.  Ever since then, all the people believed in Buddhism. Some parts of this strike true.  It was likely that the king would entertain this strange wanderer who had arrived with letters from the great Qaghan—that may have even explained why Xuanzang had been encouraged to make the dangerous journey to Suyab in the first place, so that he could obtain such permission.  And it would not be strange for the king to listen to his teachings.  If Xuanzang's attendants were attacked, that would have been a huge breach of hospitality, and however the King felt about it, he no doubt had to do something about it.  And so all of that sounds somewhat believable.  Does that mean everyone suddenly converted to Buddhism?  I don't know that I'm quite willing to go that far.  It is also likely that there were Buddhists there already, even if the majority religion was Zoroastrianism. From Samarkand, Xuanzang traveled farther southwest, to the country of Kasanna, which seems to have been the edge of what we might call Sogdiana.   According to his biographers, however, there was a little more to all of this.  Rather, he headed west to Kusanika.  Then he traveled to  Khargan, and further on to the country of Bukhara, and then to Vadi.  All of these were “An” in Chinese, which was the name element used for Sogdians from this region.  He then continued west to the country of Horismika, on the other side of the Amu Darya, aka the Oxus River of Transoxanian fame. From there he traveled further southwest, entering into the mountains.  The path here was often such that they had to travel single-file, and there was no food or water other than what you brought with you.  Eventually they came to a set of doors, known as the Iron Gate.  This was a Turkic fortress.  It was no doubt fortuitous that he had come from his meeting with the Qaghan, and likely had permission to pass through.  From there, they entered the country of Tukhara. As we noted in Episode 119, Tukhara was in the region of Bactria.  It was bordered by the Pamir range in the east, and the Persian empire in the west.  There were also the Great Snow Mountains in the south, likely referencing the Hindu Kush. Tukhara had been conquered by the Gokturks just within the past couple of decades, and Xuanzang notes that the country had been split into largely autonomous city-states as the local royalty had died without an heir many years before.  With the Gokturk conquest, it was now administered by Tardu Shad, the son of Tong Yabghu Qaghan.  “Shad” in this case was a local title. Here, Xuanzang's narrative gets a little dicey, especially between his biography and his records.  The records of the Western Regions denotes various countries in this area.  It is unclear if he traveled to all of them or is just recounting them from records he obtained.  He does give us at least an overview of the people and the region.  I would also note that this is one of the regions he visited, again, on his return trip, and so may have been more familiar with the region than those areas he had passed through from Suyab on down. For one thing, he notes that the language of the region was different from that of the “Suli”, which appears to refer to the Sogdians.  This was the old territory of the Kushan empire, and they largely spoke Bactrian.  Like Sogdian, it was another Eastern Iranian language, and they used an alphabet based largely on Greek, and written horizontally rather than vertically.  They also had their own coins. This region had plenty of Buddhist communities, and Xuanzang describes the cities and how many monasteries they had, though, again, it isn't clear if he actually visited all of them or not.  These are countries that Li Rongji translates as “Tirmidh”, “Sahaaniyan”, “Kharuun”, “Shuumaan”, etc. It does seem that Xuanzang made it to the capital city, the modern city Kunduz, Afghanistan. Xuanzang actually had something specific for the local Gokturk ruler, Tardu Shad.  Tardu Shad's wife was the younger sister of King Qu Wentai of Gaochang, whom we met last episode.  Qu Wentai had provided Xuanzang a letter for his younger sister and her husband.  Unfortunately, Xuanzang arrived to learn that the princess of Gaochang had passed away, and Tardu Shad's health was failing.  It does seem that Tardu Shad was aware of Xuanzang, however—a letter had already come from Qu Wentai to let them know that Xuanzang was on his way.  As I mentioned last episode, letters were an important part of how communities stayed tied together.  Of course, given the perils of the road, one assumes that multiple letters likely had to be sent just in case they didn't make it.  The US Postal Service this was not. Tardu Shad, though not feeling well, granted an interview with Xuanzang.  He suggested that Xuanzang should stick around.  Then, once the Shad had recovered from his illness, he would accompany Xuanzang personally on his trip to India.  Unfortunately, that was not to be.  While Xuanzang was staying there, he was witness to deadly drama.  Tardu Shad was recovering, which was attributed to the recitations by an Indian monk who was also there.  This outcome was not exactly what some in the court had wanted.  One of the Shad's own sons, known as the Tagin prince, plotted with the Shad's current wife, the young Khatun, and she poisoned her husband.  With the Shad dead, the throne might have gone to the son of the Gaochang princess, but he was still too young.  As such, the Tagin Prince was able to usurp the throne himself, and he married his stepmother, the young Khatun.  The funeral services for the late Tardu Shad meant that Xuanzang was obliged to stay at Ghor for over a month. During that time, Xuanzang had a seemingly pleasant interaction with an Indian monk.  And when he finally got ready to go, he asked the new Shad for a guide and horses.  He agreed, but also made the suggestion that Xuanzang should then head to Balkh.  This may have meant a bit of backtracking, but the Shad suggested that it would be worth it, as Balkh had a flourishing Buddhist community. Fortunately, there was a group of Buddhist monks from Balkh who happened to be in Kunduz to express their condolences at the passing of Tardu Shad, and they agreed to accompany Xuanzang back to their hometown, lest he end up getting lost and taking the long way there. The city of Balkh is also known as “Baktra”, as in “Bactria”, another name of this region.  A settlement has been there since at least 500 BCE , and it was already an important city when it was captured by Alexander the Great.  It sits at the confluence of several major trade routes, which no doubt were a big part of its success.  Xuanzang's biography notes that it was a massive city, though it was relatively sparsely populated—probably due to the relatively recent conquest by the Gokturks, which had occurred in the last couple of decades.  That said, there were still thousands of monks residing at a hundred monasteries in and around the city.  They are all characterized as monks of Theravada schools.  Southwest of the city was a monastery known as Navasamgharama, aka Nava Vihara, or “New Monastery”.  Despite its name, the monastery may have actually been much older, going back to the Kushan emperor Kaniska, in the 2nd century CE.  Ruins identified as this “New Monastery” are still visible south of Balkh, today. The monastery is described as being beautifully decorated, and it seems that it had a relic—one of the Buddha's teeth.  There are also various utensils that the Buddha is said to have used, as well.  The objects would be displayed on festival days.  North of the monastery there was a stupa more than 200 feet in height.  South of the monastery was a hermitage.  Each monk who studied there and passed away would have a stupa erected for them, as well.  Xuanzang notes that there were at around 700 memorial stupas, such that they had to be crammed together, base to base. It was here that Xuanzang met a young monk named Prajnaakara, who was already somewhat famous in India, and well-studied.  When questioned about certain aspects of Buddhism, Xuanzang was impressed by the monk's answers, and so stayed there a month studying with the young monk. Eventually, Xuanzang was ready to continue on his journey.  He departed Balkh towards the south, accompanying the teacher Prajnakara, and together they entered the Great Snow Mountains, aka the Hindu Kush.  This path was even more dangerous than the trip through the Tian Shan mountains to Suyab.   They eventually left the territory of Tukhara and arrived at Bamiyan.  Bamiyan was a kingdom in the Hindu Kush, themselves an extension of the Himalayan Mountain range.  It Is largely based around valley, home to the modern city of Bamyan, Afghanistan, which sits along the divide between Central Asia and the Indian subcontinent.  Today it is a major center for individuals of the Hazara ethnic group, one of the main ethnic groups in Afghanistan, which is a multi-ethnic state that includes, today, the Pashtun, Hazara, Tajik, and Uzbek people, along with a number of smaller ethnic groups.  Today they largely reside in the mountainous areas of the Hindu Kush. Bamiyan made an impact on our protagonist.   Their language was slightly different from that in Tukhara, but using the same—or similar enough—writing system.  Buddhism was thriving in the capital, and we are told of a rock statue of the standing Buddha, over a hundred feet in height, along with a copper statue of the standing Buddha nearby.    There was also another reclining Buddha a mile or two down the road.  There were multiple monasteries with thousands of monks, and the ruler of that kingdom received Xuanzang well. Xuanzang wasn't the first monk to travel to Bamiyan from the Middle Kingdom—in this he was, perhaps unwittingly, on the trail of the monk Faxian.  Faxian likely did not see these statues, though, as we believe they were built in the 6th and early 7th century—at least the stone Buddha statues.  They were a famous worship site until February 2001, when the Taliban gave an order to destroy all of the statues in Afghanistan.  Despite this, they were inscribed as UNESCO World Heritage Site in 2003. Fortunately, we have images from before their destruction.  These statues were a blend of Greco-Buddhist and Gandharan art styles—appropriate as it stands between the Hellenistic area of Tukhara and the ancient region of Gandhara—including the modern city of Kandahar and into the Indus Valley region of Pakistan. Continuing east through the mountains, Xuanzang eventually came out at the kingdom of Kapisa.  This may have had its capital around modern-day Bagram, north of modern Kabul, but the country seems to have been quite large.  Kapisa over saw some tens of other countries, and it is thought that at one time its influence extended from Bamyan and Kandahar to the area of modern Jalalabad.  Their language was even more different than that of Tukhara, but they were still using the same writing system.  The king of Kapisa is said to have been of Suli ethnicity—which would seem to indicate that he was Sogdian, or at least descended from people of the Transoxanian region.    Xuanzang notes that the ruler, as rough and fiery as he is described—as a true warlord or similar—he nonetheless made a silver image of the Buddha, eighteen feet in height, every year.  He also gave charity to the poor and needy in an assembly that was called every five years.  There were over one hundred monasteries and some 6000 monks, per Xuanzang's recollection, and notably, they were largely following Mahayana teachings. For the most part the monks that Xuanzang had encountered on this journey were Theravada—Xuanzang refers to them as “Hinayana”, referring to the “Lesser Vehicle” in contrast to Xuanzang's own “Mahayana”, or “Greater Vehicle”.  “Theravada” refers to the “way of the elders” and while Mahayana Buddhism largely accepts the sutras of Theravada Buddhism, there are many Mahayana texts that Theravada Buddhists do not believe are canonical.  We discussed this back in Episode 84. There was apparently a story of another individual from the Yellow River being sent as a hostage to Kapisa when it was part of the Kushan Empire, under Kanishka or similar.  Xuanzang recounts various places that the hostage, described as a prince, lived or visited while in the region.  Xuanzang's arrival likely stirred the imagination of people who likely knew that the Tang were out there, but it was such a seemingly impossible distance for most people.  And yet here was someone who had traveled across all of that distance.  One of the monasteries that claimed to have been founded because of that ancient Han prince invited Xuanzang to stay with them.  Although it was a Theravada monastery, Xuanzang took them up on the offer, both because of the connection to someone who may have been his countryman, but also because of his traveling companion, Prajnakara, who was also a Theravada monk, and may not be comfortable staying at a Mahayana monastery. Xuanzang spends a good deal of ink on the stories of how various monasteries and other sites were founded in Kapisa and the surrounding areas.  He must have spent some time there to accumulate all of this information.  It is also one of the places where he seems to have hit at least twice—once on the way to India, and once during his return journey. The King of Kapisa is said to have been a devotee of Mahayana Buddhism.  He invited Xuanzang and Prajnakara to come to a Mahayana monastery to hold a Dharma gathering.  There they met with several leading figures in the monastery, and they discussed different theories.  This gathering lasted five days, and at the end, the king offered Xuanzang and the other monks five bolts of pure brocade and various other gifts.  Soon thereafter, the monk Prajnakara was invited back to Tukhara, and so he and Xuanzang parted ways. And it was about time for Xuanzang to continue onwards as well.  From Kapisa, he would travel across the “Black Range” and into Lampaka.  This may refer to the area of Laghman or Jalalabad.  Today, this is in modern Afghanistan, but for Xuanzang, this would have been the northwestern edge of India.  He was almost there. And so are we, but we'll save his trip into India for next episode. Until then thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

This episode we kick off a series of episodes following the famous monk Xuanzang, aka the Tripitaka Master of the Law, Sanzang Fashi.  Known in Japanese as Genjo, and founder of the Faxiang school of Yogacara Buddhism, also known as the Hosso school, it was brought back to the archipelago by students who studied with the master at his temple north of the Tang capital of Chang'an.  He was particularly famous for his travels across the Silk Road to India and back--a trip that would last 16 years and result in him bringing back numerous copies of sutras from the land of the Buddha, kicking off a massive translation work.  It also would see his recollections recorded as the Record of the Western Regions, which, along with his biography based on the stories he told those working with him, give us some of the best contemporary information of the various places along the Silk Road in the 7th century. Part 1 focuses on Xuanzang's journey out of the Tang empire, braving the desert, and somehow, against the odds, making it to the country of Gaochang. For more, check out the blogpost page:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-120 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 120:  Journey to the West, Part 1 The monks from far off Yamato were enthralled.  They had journeyed across the waves on a foreign vessel, traversed a greater distance than they probably thought possible growing up in the archipelago, and had finally arrived at the capital of the Great Tang Empire, Chang'an.  They had then been sent north, to a temple where they met others from Yamato. They had come to study the Law, the Dharma, with some of the most famous teachers of the Tang dynasty, and there were few more famous than the Tripitaka Master Genjou himself.   Everyone in the monastery knew his story—he had traveled all the way to India, the birthplace of the Buddha, and returned with copies of the sutras in Sanskrit, which he and the other monks were translating. In between sessions of meditation, sutra readings, and various lectures, the students would gather round the feet of the master as he recounted his journeys.  The stories themselves were fantastic stories, telling of far off cities and people.  There were stories of bandits, and meetings with kings.  The students must have thought about how it mirrored what they, themselves, had gone through—their own Journey to the West. Last episode we talked about Tukara and what that mysterious placename might mean—and where it could be referring to.  For that we traveled all the way to the end of the Silk Road.  In this episode and continuing into the next, we are going to travel that same road with a different perspective, as we take a look at one of the most famous travelers of the Silk Road:  the monk Xuanzang, or Genjou in Japanese.  And as I hinted at in the introduction, if you're at all familiar with the famous Journey to the West, well, this and the following episodes will explore the actual history behind that story, and how intertwined it is with the history of the archipelago. For those who don't know, Xuanzang was a monk, born Chen Hui near present-day Luoyang in Henan.  He is known by many names, but one of his most famous comes from the title “Sanzang Fashi”, aka “Tripitaka Master of the Law”, from which we get the simplified name in some English sources of just “Tripitaka”.  Sanzang, or “Tripitaka”, literally translates to “Three baskets” or “Three storehouses”, referring to the Buddhist canon.  It is quite fitting, given Xuanzang's incredibly famous Journey to the Western Regions and, eventually, to India, where he journeyed to obtain the most accurate version of the Buddhist scriptures to ensure that they had the most accurate versions.  On his journey, Xuanzang apparently took detailed records of the trip, and his   “Records of the Western Regions”  provides a lot of what we know of the towns and cultures that existed there back in the 7th century – even if not all of it was experienced firsthand and  may have come through translators and second or third-hand sources. In addition, Xuanzang's biography and travelogue add a lot more information to his journey, even if they weren't necessarily written by him, but instead by his fellow monks based on his recitations to them  combined with various records that they had access to at the time.  As such, it isn't always the most reliable, but it is still highly detailed and informative.  Xuanzang would return to China and teach for many years, translating the works that he had brought back, and founding a new school of Yogachara Buddhism, known as Faxiang in Chinese, but “Hossou” in Japan.  The Hossou school was particularly popular in the 8th and 9th centuries, having been transmitted by Yamato students who had actually studied at the feet of the venerable teacher.  These included the monk Doushou, who travelled over to the continent in 653.  In 658, there are two others who came over, named Chitatsu and Chiitsu. They had travelled to the Tang court in the 7th month of that year, where they are said to have received instruction from none other than Xuanzang himself.  If this indeed was in 658, it would have been only 6 years before Xuanzang's death. Their journey had almost not happened.  The year previous, in 657, envoys were sent to Silla to ask that state to escort Chitatsu to the Tang court, along with Hashibito no Muraji no Mimumaya and Yozami no Muraji no Wakugo, but Silla refused.  They must have relented, however, as they apparently were escorting at least the monks a year or so later. Chitatsu and Chiitsu would eventually return to Yamato, as would Doushou.  Doushou is also said to have been introduced to a student of the second patriarch of the Chan, or Zen school as well.  He would return to teach at Gango-ji, the later incarnation of Asukadera, spreading the Hossou teachings from master Xuanzang. In fact, Xuanzang's impact would be felt across Asia, and much of the Buddhist world.  He would continue to be known in Japan and in the area of China, Korea, and beyond.  Japanese translations of his journeys were made between the 8th and 10th centuries from texts that had come from Xuanzang's own monastery. Nine centuries after his death, during the Ming Dynasty, Xuanzang would be further immortalized in a wildly popular novel:  Journey to the West.  The “Journey to the West” is an incredibly fantastical retelling of Xuanzang's story.  In it, Xuanzang is sent on his task by none other than the Buddha himself, who also provides three flawed traveling companions.  There is  Zhu Bajie, aka “Piggy”—a half human half pig who is known for his gluttony and lust.  Then there is Sha Wujing, aka “Sandy”—a man with a red beard and blue skin who lived in a river of quicksand.  Despite a rather frightful backstory, he was often the straight man in the story.  And then there is the famous Sun Wukong, aka “Monkey”, the most famous of the three and often more famous than Xuanzang himself.  In fact, one of the most famous English versions of the story is just called “Monkey”, an abridged telling of the story in English by Arthur Waley in 1942. “Journey to the West” is perhaps the most popular novel in all of Asia.  It has spawned countless retellings, including numerous movies and tv series.  The character of “Monkey” has further spun off into all sorts of media.  Of course, his addition was all part of the novel, but nonetheless, that novel had an historical basis, which is where we really want to explore.  Because for all of the magic and fantasy of the Ming novel, the real story is almost as fascinating without it. We are told that Xuanzang was born as Chen Hui—or possibly Chen Yi—on the 6th of April in 602 CE in Chenliu, near present-day Luoyang.  Growing up, he was fascinated by religious books.  He joined the Jingtu monastery and at the age of thirteen he was ordained as a novice monk.  However, he lived in rather “interesting times”, and as the Sui dynasty fell, he fled the chaos to Chengdu, in Sichuan, where he was fully ordained by the age of 20. Xuanzang was inspired reading about the 4th century monk Faxian, whom we mentioned back in Episode 84.  Faxian had visited India and brought back many of the earliest scriptures to be widely translated into Chinese.    However, Xuanzang was concerned, as Faxian had been, that the knowledge of the Chinese Buddhist establishment was still incomplete.  There were still works that they knew about but didn't have, and there were competing Buddhist theories in different translations of the texts.  He thought that if he could go find untranslated versions of the texts then he could resolve some of the issues and further build out the corpus of Buddhist knowledge. Around the age 25 or 27, he began his journey.  The exact date is either 627 or 629, based on the version that one reads.  That has some importance for the events that his story tells, as some of the individuals whom he is said to have met are said to have died by 627 CE, meaning that either the dates of the journey are wrong or the dates we have in other sources are wrong.  As you can imagine, that's rather important for an accurate history, but not so much for our purposes, as I think that we can still trust the broad brush strokes which paint an image of what the Silk Road was like at the time. For context, back in Yamato, this was around the time that Kashikiya Hime—aka Suiko Tenno—passed away, and Prince Tamura was placed on the throne, passing over Prince Yamashiro no Oe, the son of the late Crown Prince, Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi.  Whoever was on the throne, Soga no Emishi was actually running things, and the Soga family were heavily involved in the establishment of Buddhism in the archipelago.  This is relatively around the time of Episode 103. When Xuanzang took off to the West, his intentions may have been pure, but truth be told, he was breaking the law.  Tang Taizong had come to power in 626, and the routes along the Tarim Basin were under the control of the Gokturks, whom the Tang were fighting with.  As such, travel to the Western Regions was strictly controlled.  Xuanzang and several companions had all petitioned Emperor Taizong for permission to leave, but the Emperor never replied. So Xuanzang did not have permission to leave—but he decided to head out, anyway.  His companions, however, lost their nerve, and so he set out alone. Of course, he didn't simply set off for the West.  At first he went city to city, staying at local Buddhist monasteries and sharing his teachings.  To all intents and purposes, this probably seemed like normal behavior for a monk, traveling from monastery to monastery, but it was actually taking him towards the western border. And it was going well until he reached Liangzhou—known today as Wuwei.  Li Daliang, governor of Liangzhou, enforced the prohibition that "common" people were not permitted to go to the regions of the western tribes.  Word had spread about Xuanzang, and when the governor caught wind of what was going on, he called Xuanzang into an audience to find out what he was planning to do.  Xuanzang was honest and told him he was going to the West to search for the Dharma, but the governor ordered him to return to Chang'an instead. Fortunately, there was a Buddhist teacher, Huiwei, who heard about all of this this and decided to help Xuanzang.  He had two of his own disciples escort Xuanzang to the west.  Since the governor had told him not to go, this was illegal, and so they traveled by night and hid during the day until they reached Guazhou. In Guazhou, the governor, Dugu Da, was quite pleased to meet with Xuanzang, and either hadn't heard about the order for him to return to Chang'an or didn't care.  From there, Xuanzang's path was largely obstructed by the deep and fast-flowing Hulu river.  They would have to travel to its upper reaches, where they could go through Yumenguan--Yumen Pass--which was the only safe way to cross, making it a key to the Western regions. Beyond Yumenguan there were five watchtowers, roughly 30 miles apart.  These watchtowers likely had means to signal back and forth, thus keeping an eye on the people coming and going from Yumen Pass.  Beyond that was the desert of Yiwu, also known as Hami. Xuanzang was not only worried about what this meant, his horse died, leaving him on foot.  He contemplated this in silence for a month.  Before he continued, though, a warrant arrived for his arrest.  They inquired with a local prefect, who happened to be a pious Buddhist.  He showed it to Xuanzang, and then ended up tearing up the document, and urged Xuanzang to leave as quickly as possible. Yumenguan lies roughly 80-90 kilometers—roughly 50 miles or so—from the town of Dunhuang, the last major outpost before leaving for the Western Regions.  Dunhuang had a thriving Buddhist community, and the paintings in the Mogao caves are absolutely stunning, even today—one of the most well-preserved of such collections, spanning the 4th to the 14th century.  However, at this point, Xuanzang was a wanted man, and stopping in at Dunhuang might very well have curtailed his journey before it had even begun.  Instead, he would likely need to find a way to sneak across the border without alerting anyone and then, somehow, sneak past five watchtowers, each 30 miles or so apart, with no water except what he could carry or steal at each point. At this point, one of Xuanzang's escorts had traveled on to Dunhuang, and only one remained, but Xuanzang wasn't sure his remaining companion was up to the strain of the journey, and he dismissed him, deciding to travel on alone.  He bought a horse, and he fortunately found a guide--a "Hu" person named "Shi Pantuo".  "Hu" is a generic term often translated simply as "foreigner" or "barbarian" from the western lands, and the name "Shi" referred to Sogdians from Tashkent.  The Sogdians were a people of Persian descent living in central Eurasia, between the Syr Darya and Amu Darya rivers.  That latter was also known as the Oxus river, hence another name for the region: Transoxiana.  Sogdiana appears as early as the 6th century BCE as a member of the Achaemenid Empire, and the region was annexed by Alexander the Great in 328 BCE.  It continued to change hands under a succession of empires. The Sogdian city-states themselves were centered around the city of Samarkand, and while they did not build an empire themselves, the Sogdians nonetheless had a huge impact on cultures in both the east and the west.  Sogdians became famous as traders along the silk roads, and they built tight knit communities in multiple cities along the route.  Families kept in touch over long distances, setting up vast trading networks.  In fact, there were even Sogdian communities living in Chang'an and elsewhere in the Tang Empire.  The Sogdian An Lushan would eventually rise through the ranks of the Tang dynasty court—but that was almost a century after Xuanzang's travels. There are many material items that the Sogdians helped move across the silk road, but perhaps one of the most striking things were a style of patterned textiles.  Sassanid Persia was known for its silk textiles, often woven in images surrounded by a border of pearl-shapes:  Small circles in a circular pattern around a central figure, often duplicated due to the way the fabrics were woven.  This pearl-roundel pattern was especially taken up by the Sogdians, and their fashion sense made it popular across Eurasia.  Large pearl roundel designs were used on caftans, popular throughout the Gokturk qaghanate, and the Tang court would eventually pick up the fashion of these foreigners—generally classified as “hu” by those in Chang'an.  With a round neck, closing at the side, this western-style caftan-like garment eventually found its way into Japan as the people of the Japanese archipelago adopted Tang dynasty clothing and fashion.  In fact, Japan boasts one of the most impressive collections of silk road artifacts at the Shosoin repository of Todaiji temple in Nara, and it includes clothing and fabric that show the influence of Sogdian and Turkic merchants.  The Shosoin collection contains multiple examples of those pearl roundel patterns, for example, and you can even buy reproductions of the design today in Nara and elsewhere.  The garments themselves would continue to influence the fashion of the court, indeed giving rise to some of the most popular court garments of the Nara period, and the design continued to evolve through the Heian period until it was almost unrecognizable from its origins. Sogdians were so influential that their language—an Eastern Iranian language known simply as “Sogdian”—was the lingua franca, or the common tongue, through most of the Silk Road.  If you knew Sogdian, you could probably find a way to communicate with most of the people along way.  Today, Sogdian is extinct, with the possible exception of a single language that evolved from a Sogdian dialect. Sogdians are often known in Sinitic sources by their names—by the time of the Tang dynasty, it was common practice to give foreigners, whose names didn't always translate well into Chinese dialects, a family name based on their origin.  For the Sogdians, who were quite well known and numerous, they weren't just classified with a single name, but rather they were divided up by seven names based on where they were from.  So the name “Shi”, for instance, indicated that someone was from the area of Tashkent, while the name “An” referred to a Sogdian who was descended from people from the Bukhara, and so on.  This was a practice that went at least as far back as the Han dynasty. So, returning to the story, Xuanzang's new Sogdian guide's name is given as “Shi Pantuo”.  The name "Pantuo", which would have likely been pronounced more like "b'uan d'a" at the time, is likely a version of the name "Vandak", which was indeed a very common Sogdian name meaning something like “servant” and was often used to indicate things like religious devotion, which could be related to his status as a devout Buddhist, though it also might just be coincidental.  Xuanzang was so happy with his guide's offer to help, that he bought him clothes and a horse for his troubles. And so they headed out towards Yumenguan, the Jade Pass or Jade Gate, so called because of the caravans of jade that would head out from the Middle Country ever since the Han dynasty.  In fact, the Jade Gate was originally established as part of the western end of the Han dynasty “Great Wall”.  This was not necessarily the famous Ming Dynasty wall that most people are familiar with, but the Han Dynasty wall would have been impressively high enough, with regular patrols and beacon towers.  So if you tried going over the wall, someone was likely to see you and give chase.  There is also the issue that if you had any amount of supplies you have to bring those as well—this isn't just hopping a fence.  The wall was augmented by natural features—mountains and deep and fast-flowing rivers, for example, which made walls unnecessary.  And then there was also the fact that in many places, it was just open wilderness, which was its own kind of barrier.  Trying to go off the beaten path meant wandering through uncharted territory, which someone like Xuanzang was probably not prepared to do.  It isn't like he had GPS and Google Maps to help him find his way, and if you got lost in the desert, then who knows what might happen to you. By the way, this was true even in relatively settled places, like the Japanese archipelago, up until modern times.  While there were some areas where it was relatively flat, and you could navigate by certain landmarks, if you left the roads and trails you might easily find yourself lost without access to food or shelter.  Maps were not exactly accurate.  The safest way to travel was to stick to the more well-traveled routes. Unfortunately, that meant going through the Yumen Gate itself.  There was a garrison where the road left the territory of the Tang Empire , and that garrison would be responsible for checking the papers of anyone coming into or leaving the empire.  Xuanzang, of course, didn't have the proper papers, since he didn't have permission to be there.  Fortunately, he had a guide, who seemed to know the area, and that would allow him to bypass the official checkpoint, which Xuanzang recalls seeing off in the distance.  Together, Xuanzang and Vandak snuck past the Yumen gate, and traveled several miles up the river.  There, they found a spot where the river was only about 10 feet across, near a grove of trees, and so they chopped down a few of them and made an impromptu bridge for them and their horses to cross. From that point on, until they reached Yiwu, they would have to get past the watchtowers.  Not only were these watchtowers garrisoned with men of the Tang army, but they were also the only place to get fresh water.  The travelers would need to sneak in at night to steal water from the watchtowers without getting caught. The farther they traveled, the more Vandak seemed to be getting cold feet.  Normally, this wouldn't have been an issue had they been normal travelers, but in trying to avoid the watchtowers they were making themselves into fugitives.  If they were caught they could both be killed.  He protested several times that they should just go back, and at one point Xuanzang seemed worried that Vandak was contemplating how much easier this would be for him if he just killed the old monk.  Finally, Xuanzang told Vandak that he should leave, and solemnly swore that if he was caught he wouldn't rat out Vandak for his help.  Vandak, who had been worried about just such a scenario, nonetheless took Xuanzang's word and the two parted ways. From that point on, Xuanzang recounted that the trail through the desert was marked by nothing but skeletons and horse droppings.  He thought at one point he saw an army in the desert, but it turned out to be a mirage.  Finally, he saw one of the watchtowers he had been warned about.  Not wanting to get caught, he lay down in a ditch and hid there until the sun went down. Under cover of darkness, he approached the tower, where he saw water.  He went to have a drink, and maybe wash his hands, but as he was getting out his water bag to refill it and arrow whizzed through the air and he almost took an arrow to the knee.  Knowing the jig was up, he shouted out: "I'm a monk from the capital!  Don't shoot!" He led his horse to the tower, where they opened the door and saw he really was a monk.  They woke up the captain, who had a lamp lit so he could see whom it was they had apprehended.  Right away it was clear that this traveler wasn't from around those parts—not that anyone really was, it seems. The Captain had heard of Xuanzang, but the report that had been sent said Xuanzang had gone back to Chang'an.  Xuanzang, for his part, showed a copy of the petition he had sent to the Emperor--one that he hadn't actually heard back from.  He then told the captain what he planned to do.  The captain was moved, and decided to look the other way.  He gave him a place to stay for the night and then showed him the way to the fourth watchtower, where the captain's brother was in charge, and would give him shelter. Sure enough, Xuanzang made it to the fourth watchtower, but he wasn't sure if he could entirely trust the captain, so again he tried to just secretly steal the water, but again he was caught.  Fortunately, the captain there was also sympathetic.  He let Xuanzang stay and then actually told him how to get around the fifth watchtower, since the captain there might not be as lenient.  He also told Xuanzang about an inconspicuous oasis where he could get water for himself and his horse. Reinvigorated, Xuanzang had another challenge to face.  Beyond the watchtowers was a long stretch of desert.  It was a journey of several hundred miles, and it started poorly.  First off, he missed the oasis that the captain of the fourth watchtower had indicated he could use without anyone firing arrows at him.  Then, he dropped his water bag, such that he was left with nothing.  He thought of turning back, but he continued, chanting mantras to himself.   He was dehydrated and exhausted, but he continued onward.  Some days into his journey, his horse suddenly changed course of its own accord.  Despite his efforts, it kept going, eventually coming to a pasture of grass around a pond of clean, sweet water.  That ended up saving him, and he rested there for a day, before traveling on.  Two days later, he arrived at Yiwu, aka Hami.  He had made it.  He was free. Or at least, he was until he returned to the Tang empire.  After all, Xuanzang did plan to come back, and when he did, he would have to face the music.  That was a problem for future Xuanzang.  Of course, he was also a lone traveler.  He might be free, but he was far from safe.  He was now entering the Western regions, and he would need to be on the lookout. The people of Hami, also known as Yiwu, were known to the Han dynasty as members of the Xiao Yuezhi—the kingdom or coalition that once controlled much of the northern edge of the Tarim basin.  They had been displaced by the Xiongnu, and the area would go back and forth between different hegemons, so that by the time of the Sui and early Tang dynasties they were under the sway of the Gokturks.  Still, as close as it was to the Tang borders, they no doubt had contact, and indeed, Xuanzang was given lodging at a monastery with three other monks who were “Chinese”, for whatever that meant at the time. If you've heard of Hami today you may know it for something that it was famous for even back in the 7th century:  their famous melons.  You can sometimes find Hami melons in stores to this day. Regarding the melons and other such fruits and vegetables—the area of Hami is a fairly arid land.  Hami does get some water from the Tianshan mountains, but in order to have enough for agriculture they instituted a system that is still found today in Hami, Turpan, and other parts of the world, including arid parts of northwest India and Pakistan through the middle east to north Africa.  It is called a Karez, or in Persian it is called a Qanat, and it is thought to have originated in ancient Persia around the first millennium BCE and spread out through the various trade routes. The idea is to basically create underground aqueducts to take water from one place to another.  This would keep them out of the heat and dry air above ground to allow them to continue to flow without losing too much to evaporation.  To do that, however, required manually digging tunnels for the water.  This would be done by sinking wells at regular intervals and connecting the wells to each other with tunnels.  But it wasn't enough for the tunnels to be connected, they had to also slope slightly downwards, but not too much.  You want enough flow to keep the water clear, but if it flows too quickly or creates waves, the water might erode the underground channels in ways that could cause problems, such as a collapse.  All in all, they are pretty amazing feats of engineering and they can carry water a great distance.  Many are under 5 km, but some are around 70 km long. These karez would have been the lifelines of many towns, creating a reliable oasis in the desert.  Rivers were great, but the flow could vary from floods to a mere trickle, and the karez system provided relatively constant flow.  This allowed for agriculture even in the dry areas of the Western Regions, which helped facilitate the various kingdoms that grew up in this otherwise inhospitable region. While eating his melons in Hami and chatting it up with his fellow eastern priests, Yiwu was visited by an envoy from the neighboring kingdom of Gaochang.  Now Hami, or Yiwu, sits at the eastern edge of the Turpan-Hami basin, aka the Turfan depression, a large desert, much of which is actually so low that it is below sea level.  In fact, the basin includes the lowest exposed point in the area of modern China at Ayding Lake, which is 158 meters below sea level.  From Yiwu to Gaochang, you would follow the edge of the mountains west, to an area near a small break in the mountain range.  Follow that break northwest, and you would find yourself at the city of Urumqi, the current capital of the Xinjiang Autonomous Region in modern China. Xinjiang covers much of the area known in ancient times as the “Western Regions” that remains within the modern political boundaries of the PRC. The envoy from Gaochang heard about Xuanzang, and reported back to his lord, King Qu Wentai, who immediately sent a retinue out to escort the Buddhist monk across the desert to his city.  They included multiple horses for Xuanzang, so he could change at regular intervals.  His own horse was left behind, to be brought along later.   After six days on the road, they came to the city of Paili, and since the sun had already set, Xuanzang asked to stop for the night, but the escorts urged him on to the Royal City, which was not much farther on. And so he arrived around midnight, which means he likely couldn't immediately take in the size of the city.  Gaochang was an immense walled city, and even today, ruined as it is, the site of it is quite formidable, and it is so well preserved it is considered a UNESCO world heritage site.  Perhaps since wood was relatively scarce, this is why so much of the construction was made of brick and earthworks.  Fortunately, this means that many of the walls remain, even today—eroded and crumbling, but still towering over those who come to see them.  In places they have also been rebuilt or reinforced.  And in a few, very rare instances, you can still see some of the traces of paint that would have once been so prevalent throughout a city like this.  At this time in history, Gaochang, also known as Karakhoja, was under the command of the Qu family.  The population was largely Han Chinese, and it had often been overseen or at least influenced by kingdoms in the Yellow River basin.  But it was also the home of Turks, Sogdian merchants, local Turfanians, and more.  It was even called “Chinatown” by the Sogdians, and yet attempts to further sinicize the region had provoked a coup only a couple of decades earlier.  Even though he showed up in the middle of the night, Xuanzang is said to have been welcomed by the ruler of Gaochang, Qu Wentai, as he entered the city.  Perhaps this is why the escorts had been pushing so hard—the King himself was awake and waiting for Xuanzang to make an appearance.  The King and his attendants came out with candles in their hands, and they were ushered behind curtains in a multi-storey pavilion.  The king apparently grilled him through the night, asking about his journey until it was almost daybreak, at which point Xuanzang requested rest.  He was finally shown to a bedroom that had been prepared for him and allowed to sleep. The next day king assembled the leading monks of his kingdom before his guest.  These included the monks Tuan Fashi and Wang Fashi.  Tuan Fashi had studied in Chang'an for many years, and he knew his Buddhist scholarship. And Wang Fashi was a superintendent, and it was his duty to look after Xuanzang and butter him up with the hope that he might stay and provide the king with the prestige of having such an esteemed monk.  They put him up at a monastery next to the royal palace—the “daochang”, aka “dojo” in Japanese, which would be a whole different diversion. Ding Wang suggested that this might be the same as the Chongfu Monastery mentioned in a colophon on a 7th century copy of the Sutra of Perfection of Wisdom for Benevolent Kings. It was found by a German expedition at a site in the Turfan basin in the early 20th century, and now sits in the possession of Shitenno-ji, in Osaka—rather appropriate given that Shitenno-ji was around at the same time all of this was happening.  The colophon is attributed to a “Xuanjue”, and a “Xuanjue” from Gaochang, in the Turpan basin, was associated with helping Xuanzang in his later years.  Perhaps this Xuanjue first met Xuanzang during this first trip to Gaochang. Qu Wentai tried his best to dissuade Xuanzang from continuing on.  This may be simple platitudes from his biographers, but it also may have been genuine.  Having a learned foreign monk from the Tang dynasty staying at the palace monastery would likely have added to Qu Wentai's prestige by association, and it would have potentially brought more individuals to the city of Gaochang. Speaking of which, all of this first part of the journey—up to Gaochang—comes primarily from Xuanzang's biography by the monk Huili.  Xuanzang's own “Records of the Western Regions” didn't include much on it, probably because by the time that he returned to the Tang empire, Tang Taizong had annexed Yiwu and Gaochang, so all those were now considered part of the empire, rather than foreign regions to the West. After staying a month at Gaochang, Xuanzang decided it was time to continue his journey.  Disappointed though Qu Wentai may have been that his guest would be leaving, he nonetheless outfitted him handsomely.  He provided goods, including coins, as well as 24 letters to the 24 countries that he would pass along the road, adding a roll of silk to each as a sign that they came from the King of Gaochang.  He also gave him food, a small retinue, and horses to help carry everything.  Letters of introduction would have been important across the Silk Road.  There was, after all, no way to contact someone ahead of time, unless you sent runners. Merchant communities, in particular, would often be connected across long distances through regular caravans, which carried letters to their relatives, facilitating communication across vast distances.  Merchants who were bringing in a caravan of goods would know that there was a friendly community waiting to help them when they arrived, and would likely even have an idea of what was happening and what to bring. For someone traveling alone, however, having a letter of introduction would have been important, as they didn't necessarily have access to those communities by themselves.  The letters would provide introduction and let people know who you were and may even ask for assistance on your behalf.  It may seem a small thing, but it was the kind of gesture that was likely a great help to a traveler like Xuanzang.  Remember, he was not on an official mission from the Tang court—almost expressly the opposite, as he had not been given permission to leave.  So he wouldn't have had anything identifying him, and after Gaochang he likely couldn't count on being able to communicate with his native tongue. And so he was sent on his way.  As he left the city of Gaochang, the king and others accompanied Xuanzang about 10 li, or about 3 or 4 miles, outside of the city.  As they watched him head off, who could have known if he would complete his quest?  Or would he just end up another ghost in the desert? Next episode, we'll pick up Xuanzang's story as he strikes out for Agni and beyond.  Until then thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.

This episode we are taking a trip down the Silk Road--or perhaps even the Spice Road--as we investigate references in this reign to individuals from "Tukara" who seem to have arrived in Yamato and stayed for a while. For photos and more, see our podcast webpage:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-119 Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  This is episode 119: The Question of “Tukara”   Traveling upon the ocean was never exactly safe.  Squalls and storms could arise at any time, and there was always a chance that high winds and high waves could capsize a vessel.  Most people who found themselves at the mercy of the ocean could do little but hold on and hope that they could ride out whatever adverse conditions they met with.  Many ships were lost without any explanation or understanding of what happened to them.  They simply left the port and never came back home. And so when the people saw the boat pulling up on the shores of Himuka, on the island of Tsukushi, they no doubt empathized with the voyagers' plight.  The crew looked bedraggled, and their clothing was unfamiliar.  There were both men and women, and this didn't look like your average fishing party.  If anything was clear it was this:  These folk weren't from around here. The locals brought out water and food.  Meanwhile, runners were sent with a message:  foreigners had arrived from a distant place.  They then waited to see what the government was going to do.     We are still in the second reign of Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tenno.  Last episode we talked about the palaces constructed in Asuka, as well as some of the stone works that have been found from the period, and which appear to be referenced in the Nihon Shoki—at least tangentially.   The episodes before that, we looked at the expeditions the court sent to the far north of Honshu and even past Honshu to Hokkaido. This episode we'll again be looking past the main islands of the archipelago to lands beyond.  Specifically, we are going to focus on particularly intriguing references to people from a place called “Tukara”.  We'll talk about some of the ideas about where that might be, even if they're a bit  far-fetched. That's because Tukara touches on the state of the larger world that Yamato was a part of, given its situation on the far eastern edge of what we know today as the Silk Road.  And is this just an excuse for me to take a detour into some of the more interesting things going on outside the archipelago?  No comment. The first mention of a man from Tukara actually comes at the end of the reign of Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou.  We are told that in the fourth month of 654 two men and two women of “Tukara” and one woman of “Sha'e” were driven by a storm to Hiuga.  Then, three years later, the story apparently picks up again, though possibly referring to a different group of people.  On the 3rd day of the 7th month of 657, so during the second reign of Takara Hime, we now hear about two men and four women of the Land of Tukara—no mention of Sha'e—who drifted to Tsukushi, aka Kyushu.  The Chronicles mention that these wayfarers first drifted to the island of Amami, and we'll talk about that in a bit, but let's get these puzzle pieces on the table, first.  After those six people show up, the court sent for them by post-horse.  They must have arrived by the 15th of that same month, because we are told that a model of Mt. Sumi was erected and they—the people from Tukara—were entertained, although there is another account that says they were from “Tora”. The next mention is the 10th day of the 3rd month of 659, when a Man of Tukara and his wife, again woman of Sha'e, arrived.  Then, on the 16th day of the 7th month of 660, we are told that the man of Tukara, Kenzuhashi Tatsuna, desired to return home and asked for an escort.  He planned to pay his respects at the Great Country, i.e. the Tang court, and so he left his wife behind, taking tens of men with him. All of these entries might refer to people regularly reaching Yamato from the south, from a place called “Tukara”.  Alternately, this is a single event whose story has gotten distributed over several years, as we've seen happen before with the Chronicles.  .  One of the oddities of these entries is that the terms used are not consistent.  “Tukara” is spelled at least two different ways, suggesting that it wasn't a common placename like Silla or Baekje, or even the Mishihase.  That does seem to suggest that the Chronicles were phonetically trying to find kanji, or the Sinitic characters, to match with the name they were hearing.   I would also note that “Tukara” is given the status of a “kuni”—a land, country, or state—while “sha'e”, where some of the women are said to come from, is just that, “Sha'e”. As for the name of at least one person from Tokara, Kenzuhashi Tatsuna, that certainly sounds like someone trying to fit a non-Japanese name into the orthography of the time.  “Tatsuna” seems plausibly Japanese, but “Kenzuhashi” doesn't fit quite as well into the naming structures we've seen to this point. The location of “Tukara” and “Sha'e” are not clear in any way, and as such there has been a lot of speculation about them.  While today there are placenames that fit those characters, whether or not these were the places being referenced at the time is hard to say. I'll actually start with “Sha'e”, which Aston translates as Shravasti, the capital of the ancient Indian kingdom of Kosala, in modern Uttar Pradesh.  It is also where the Buddha, Siddartha Gautama, is said to have lived most of his life after his enlightenment.  In Japanese this is “Sha'e-jou”, and like many Buddhist terms it likely comes through Sanskrit to Middle Chinese to Japanese.  One—or possibly two—women from Shravasti making the journey to Yamato in the company of a man (or men) from Tukara seems quite the feat.  But then, where is “Tukara”? Well, we have at least three possible locations that I've seen bandied about.  I'll address them from the most distant to the closest option.  These three options were Tokharistan, Dvaravati, and the Tokara islands. We'll start with Tokharistan on the far end of the Silk Road.  And to start, let's define what that “Silk Road” means.  We've talked in past episodes about the “Western Regions”, past the Han-controlled territories of the Yellow River.   The ancient Tang capital of Chang'an was built near to the home of the Qin dynasty, and even today you can go and see both the Tang tombs and the tomb of Qin Shihuangdi and his terracotta warriors, all within a short distance of Xi'an, the modern city built on the site of Chang'an.  That city sits on a tributary of the Yellow River, but the main branch turns north around the border of modern Henan and the similarly sounding provinces of Shanxi and Shaanxi.  Following it upstream, the river heads north into modern Mongolia, turns west, and then heads south again, creating what is known as the Ordos loop.  Inside is the Ordos plateau, also known as the Ordos Basin.  Continuing to follow the Yellow river south, on the western edge of the Ordos, you travel through Ningxia and Gansu—home of the Hexi, or Gansu, Corridor.  That route eventually takes to Yumenguan, the Jade Gate, and Dunhuang.  From there roads head north or south along the edge of the Taklamakan desert in the Tarim basin.  The southern route travels along the edge of the Tibetan plateau, while the northern route traversed various oasis cities through Turpan, Kucha, to the city of Kashgar.  Both routes made their way across the Pamirs and the Hindu Kush into South Asia. We've brought up the Tarim Basin and the Silk Road a few times.  This is the path that Buddhism appears to have taken to get to the Yellow River Basin and eventually to the Korean Peninsula and eastward to the Japanese archipelago.  But I want to go a bit more into detail on things here, as there is an interesting side note about “Tukara” that I personally find rather fascinating, and thought this would be a fun time to share. Back in Episode 79 we talked about how the Tarim basin used to be the home to a vast inland sea, which was fed by the meltwater from the Tianshan and Kunlun mountains.  This sea eventually dwindled, though it was still large enough to be known to the Tang as the Puchang Sea.  Today it has largely dried up, and it is mostly just the salt marshes of Lop Nur that remain.  Evidence for this larger sea, however, can be observed in some of the burials found around the Tarim basin.  These burials include the use of boat-shaped structures—a rather curious feature to be found out in the middle of the desert. And it is the desert that was left behind as the waters receded that is key to much of what we know about life in the Tarim basin, as it has proven to be quite excellent at preserving organic material.  This includes bodies, which dried out and naturally turned into mummies, including not only the wool clothing they were wearing, but also features such as hair and even decoration. These “Tarim mummies”, as they have been collectively called, date from as early as 2100 BCE all the way up through the period of time we're currently talking about, and have been found in several desert sites: Xiaohe, the earliest yet discovered; Loulan, near Lop Nur on the east of the Tarim Basin, dating from around 1800 BCE; Cherchen, on the southern edge of the Tarim Basin, dating from roughly 1000 BCE; and too many others to go into in huge detail. The intriguing thing about these burials is that  many of them don't have features typically associated with people of ethnic Han—which is to say traditional Chinese—ancestry, nor do they necessarily have the features associated with the Xiongnu and other steppe nomads.  In addition they have colorful clothing  made from wool and leather, with vivid designs.  Some bodies near Hami, just east of the basin, were reported to have blonde to light brown hair, and their cloth showed radically different patterns from that found at Cherchen and Loulan, with patterns that could reasonably be compared with the plaids now common in places like Scotland and Ireland, and previously found in the Hallstadt salt mine in Central Europe from around 3500 BCE, from which it is thought the Celtic people may have originated. At the same time that people—largely Westerners— were studying these mummies, another discovery in the Tarim basin was also making waves.  This was the discovery of a brand new language.  Actually, it was two languages—or possibly two dialects of a language—in many manuscripts, preserved in Kucha and Turpan.  Once again, the dry desert conditions proved invaluable to maintain these manuscripts, which date from between the late 4th or early 5th century to the 8th century.  They are written with a Brahmic script, similar to that used for Sanskrit, which appears in the Tarim Basin l by about the 2nd century, and we were able to translate them because many of the texts were copies of Buddhist scripture, which greatly helped scholars in deciphering the languages.  These two languages were fascinating because they represented an as-yet undiscovered branch of the Indo-European language family.  Furthermore, when compared to other Indo-European languages, they did not show nearly as much similarity with their neighbors as with languages on the far western end of the Indo-European language family.  That is to say they were thought to be closer to Celtic and Italic languages than something like Indo-Iranian.  And now for a quick diversion within the diversion:  “Centum” and “Satem” are general divisions of the Indo-European language families that was once thought to indicate a geographic divide in the languages.  At its most basic, as Indo-European words changed over time, a labiovelar sound, something like “kw”,  tended to evolve in one of two ways.  In the Celtic and Italic languages, the “kw” went to a hard “k” sound, as represented in the classical pronunciation of the Latin word for 100:  Centum.  That same word, in the Avestan language—of the Indo-Iranian tree—is pronounced as “Satem”, with an “S” sound.  So, you can look at Indo-European languages and divide them generally into “centum” languages, which preserve the hard “k”, or “Satem” languages that preserve the S. With me so far? Getting back to these two newly-found languages in the Tarim Basin, the weird thing is that they were “Centum” languages. Most Centum languages are from pretty far away, though: they are generally found in western Europe or around the Mediterranean, as opposed to the Satem languages, such as Indo-Aryan, Iranian, Armernian, or even Baltic Slavic languages, which are much closer to the Tarim Basin.  So if the theory were true that the “Centum” family of Indo-European languages developed in the West and “Satem” languages developed in the East, then that would seem to indicate that a group of a “Centum” speaking people must have migrated eastward, through the various Satem speaking people, and settled in the Tarim Basin many thousands of years ago. And what evidence do we have of people who look very different from the modern population, living in the Tarim Basin area long before, and wearing clothing similar to what we associated with the progenitors of the Celts?  For many, it seemed to be somewhat obvious, if still incredible, that the speakers of this language were likely the descendants of the mummies who, in the terminology of the time, had been identified as being of Caucasoid ancestry.  A theory developed that these people were an offshoot of a group called the Yamnaya culture, which may have arisen around modern Ukraine as an admixture between the European Hunter Gatherers and the Caucasian Hunter Gatherers, around 3300-2600 BCE.  This was challenged in 2021 when a genetic study was performed on some of the mummies in the Tarim basin, as well as several from the Dzungarian basin, to the northeast.  That study suggested that the people of the Dzungarian basin had genetic ties to the people of the Afanasievo people, from Southern Siberia.  The Afanasievo people are connected to the Yamnayan culture. It should be noted that there has long been a fascination in Western anthropology and related sciences with racial identification—and often not in a healthy way.  As you may recall, the Ainu were identified as “Caucasoid” by some people largely because of things like the men's beards and lighter colored hair, which differ greatly from a large part of the Japanese population.  However, that claim has been repeatedly refuted and debunked. And similarly, the truth is, none of these Tarim mummy burials were in a period of written anything, so we can't conclusively associated them with these fascinating Indo-European languages.  There are thousands of years between the various burials and the manuscripts. These people  left no notes stashed in pockets that give us their life story.   And Language is not Genetics is not Culture.  Any group may adopt a given language for a variety of reasons.  .  Still, given what we know, it is possible that the ancient people of the Tarim basin spoke some form of “Proto-Kuchean”, but it is just as likely that this language was brought in by people from Dzungaria at some point. So why does all this matter to us?  Well, remember how we were talking about someone from Tukara?  The Kuchean language, at least, is referred to in an ancient Turkic source as belonging to “Twgry”, which led several scholars to draw a link between this and the kingdom and people called Tukara and the Tokharoi.  This leads us on another bit of a chase through history. Now if you recall, back in Episode 79, we talked about Zhang Qian.  In 128 BCE, he attempted to cross the Silk Road through the territory of the Xiongnu on a mission for the Han court.  Some fifty years earlier, the Xiongnu had defeated the Yuezhi.  They held territory in the oasis towns along the north of the Taklamakan dessert, from about the Turpan basin west to the Pamirs. The Xiongnu were causing problems for the Han, who thought that if they could contact the remaining Yuezhi they could make common cause with them and harass the Xiongnu from both sides.  Zhang Qian's story is quite remarkable: he started out with an escort of some 99 men and a translator.  Unfortunately, he was captured and enslaved by the Xiongnu during his journey, and he is even said to have had a wife and fathered a child.  He remained a captive for thirteen years, but nonetheless, he was able to escape with his family and he made it to the Great Yuezhi on the far side of the Pamirs, but apparently the Yuezhi weren't interested in a treaty against the Xiongnu.  The Pamirs were apparently enough of a barrier and they were thriving in their new land.  And so Zhang Qian crossed back again through Xiongnu territory, this time taking the southern route around the Tarim basin.  He was still captured by the Xiongnu, who spared his life.  He escaped, again, two years later, returning to the Han court.  Of the original 100 explorers, only two returned: Zhang Qian and his translator.  While he hadn't obtained an alliance, he was able to detail the cultures of the area of the Yuezhi. Many feel that the Kushan Empire, which is generally said to have existed from about 30 to 375 CE,was formed from the Kushana people who were part of the Yuezhi who fled the Xiongnu. In other words, they were originally from further north, around the Tarim Basin, and had been chased out and settled down in regions that included Bactria (as in the Bactrian camel).  Zhang Qian describes reaching the Dayuan Kingdom in the Ferghana valley, then traveling south to an area that was the home of the Great Yuezhi or Da Yuezhi.  And after the Kushan empire fell, we know there was a state in the upper regions of the Oxus river, centered on the city of Balkh, in the former territory of the Kushan empire. known as “Tokara”.  Geographically, this matches up how Zhang Qian described the home of the Da Yuezhi.  Furthermore, some scholars reconstruct the reading of the Sinic characters used for “Yuezhi” as originally having an optional reading of something like “Togwar”, but that is certainly not the most common reconstructed reading of those characters.  Greek sources describe this area as the home of the Tokharoi, or the Tokaran People.  The term “Tukhara” is also found in Sanskrit, and this kingdom  was also said to have sent ambassadors to the Southern Liang and Tang dynasties. We aren't exactly certain of where these Tokharan people came from, but as we've just described, there's a prevailing theory that they were the remnants of the Yuezhi and Kushana people originally from the Tarim Basin.  We know that in the 6th century they came under the rule of the Gokturk Khaganate, which once spanned from the Liao river basin to the Black Sea.  In the 7th and 8th centuries they came under the rule of the Tang Empire, where they were known by very similar characters as those used to write “Tukara” in the Nihon Shoki.  On top of this, we see Tokharans traveling the Silk Road, all the way to the Tang court.  Furthermore, Tokharans that settled in Chang'an took the surname “Zhi” from the ethnonym “Yuezhi”, seemingly laying claim to and giving validation to the identity used back in the Han dynasty.   So, we have a Turkic record describing the Kuchean people (as in, from Kucha in the Tarim Basin) as “Twgry”, and we have a kingdom in Bactria called Tokara and populated (according to the Greeks) by people called Tokharoi.  You can see how this one term has been a fascinating rabbit hole in the study of the Silk Roads and their history.  And some scholars understandably suggested that perhaps the Indo-European languags found in Kucha and Turpan  were actually related to this “Tokhara” – and therefore  should be called “Tocharian”, specifically Tocharian A (Kuchean) or Tocharian B (Turfanian). The problem is that if the Tokharans were speaking “Tocharian” then you wouldn't expect to just see it at Kucha and Turpan, which are about the middle of the road between Tokhara and the Tang dynasty, and which had long been under Gokturk rule.  You would also expect to see it in the areas of Bactria associated with Tokhara.  However, that isn't what we see.  Instead, we see that Bactria was the home of local Bactrian language—an Eastern Iranian language, which, though it is part of the Indo European language family, it is not closely related to Tocharian as far as we can tell. It is possible that the people of Kucha referred to themselves as something similar to “Twgry”, or “Tochari”, but we should also remember that comes from a Turkic source, and it could have been an exonym not related to what they called themselves.  I should also note that language is not people.  It is also possible that a particular ethnonym was maintained separately by two groups that may have been connected politically but which came to speak different languages for whatever reason.   There could be a connection between the names, or it could even be that the same or similar exonym was used for different groups. So, that was a lot and a bit of a ramble, but a lot of things that I find interesting—even if they aren't as connected as they may appear.  We have the Tarim mummies, which are, today, held at a museum in modern Urumqi.  Whether they had any connection with Europe or not, they remain a fascinating study for the wealth of material items found in and around the Tarim basin and similar locations.  And then there is the saga of the Tocharian languages—or perhaps more appropriately the Kuchean-Turfanian languages: Indo-European languages that seem to be well outside of where we would expect to find them. Finally, just past the Pamirs, we get to the land of Tokhara or Tokharistan.  Even without anything else, we know that they had contact with the court.  Perhaps our castaways were from this land?  The name is certainly similar to what we see in the Nihon Shoki, using some of the same characters. All in all, art and other information suggest that the area of the Tarim basin and the Silk Road in general were quite cosmopolitan, with many different people from different regions of the world.  Bactria retained Hellenic influences ever since the conquests of Alexander of Macedonia, aka Alexander the Great, and Sogdian and Persian traders regularly brought their caravans through the region to trade.  And once the Tang dynasty controlled all of the routes, that just made travel that much easier, and many people traveled back and forth. So from that perspective, it is possible that one or more people from Tukhara may have made the crossing from their home all the way to the Tang court, but if they did so, the question still remains: why would they be in a boat? Utilizing overland routes, they would have hit Chang'an or Louyang, the dual capitals of the Tang empire, well before they hit the ocean.  However, the Nihon Shoki says that these voyagers first came ashore at Amami and then later says that they were trying to get to the Tang court. Now there was another “Silk Road” that isn't as often mentioned: the sea route, following the coast of south Asia, around through the Malacca strait and north along the Asian coast.  This route is sometimes viewed more in terms of the “spice” road If these voyagers set out to get to the Tang court by boat, they would have to have traveled south to the Indian Ocean—possibly traveling through Shravasti or Sha'e, depending on the route they chose to take—and then around the Malacca strait—unless they made it on foot all the way to Southeast Asia.  And then they would have taken a boat up the coast. Why do that instead of taking the overland route?  They could likely have traveled directly to the Tang court over the overland silk road.  Even the from Southeast Asia could have traveled up through Yunnan and made their way to the Tang court that way.  In fact, Zhang Qian had wondered something similar when he made it to the site of the new home of the Yuezhi, in Bactria.  Even then, in the 2nd century, he saw products in the marketplace that he identified as coming from around Szechuan.  That would mean south of the Han dynasty, and he couldn't figure out how those trade routes might exist and they weren't already known to the court.  Merchants would have had to traverse the dangerous mountains if they wanted to avoid being caught by the Xiongnu, who controlled the entire region. After returning to the Han court, Zhang Qian actually went out on another expedition to the south, trying to find the southern trade routes, but apparently was not able to do so.  That said, we do see, in later centuries, the trade routes open up between the area of the Sichuan basin and South Asia.  We also see the migrations of people further south, and there may have even been some Roman merchants who traveled up this route to find their way to the Han court, though those accounts are not without their own controversy. In either case, whether by land or sea, these trade routes were not always open.  In some cases, seasonal weather, such as monsoons, might dictate movement back and forth, while political realities were also a factor.  Still, it is worth remembering that even though most people were largely concerned with affairs in their own backyard, the world was still more connected than people give it credit for.  Tang dynasty pottery made its way to the east coast of Africa, and ostriches were brought all the way to Chang'an. As for the travelers from Tukhara and why they would take this long and very round-about method of travel, it is possible that they were just explorers, seeking new routes, or even on some kind of pilgrimage.  Either way, they would have been way off course. But if they did pass through Southeast Asia, that would match up with another theory about what “Tukara” meant: that it actually refers to the Dvaravati kingdom in what is now modern Thailand.  The Dvaravati Kingdom was a Mon political entity that rose up around the 6th century.  It even sent embassies to the Sui and Tang courts.  This is even before the temple complexes in Siem Reap, such as Preah Ko and the more famous Angkor Wat.  And it was during this time that the ethnic Tai people are thought to have started migrating south from Yunnan, possibly due to pressures from the expanding Sui and Tang empires.  Today, most of what remains of the Dvaravati kingdom are the ruins of ancient stone temples, showing a heavy Indic influence, and even early Buddhist practices as well.  “Dvaravati” may not actually be the name of the kingdom but it comes from an inscription on a coin found from about that time.  The Chinese refer to it as  “To-lo-po-ti” in contemporary records.  It may not even have been a kingdom, but  more of a confederation of city-states—it is hard to piece everything together.  That it was well connected, though, is clear from the archaeological record.  In Dvaravati sites, we see coins from as far as Rome, and we even have a lamp found in modern Pong Tuk that appears to match similar examples from the Byzantine Empire in the 6th century.  Note that this doesn't mean it arrived in the 6th century—similarly with the coins—but the Dvaravati state lasted until the 12th century. If that was the case, perhaps there were some women from a place called “Shravasti” or similar, especially given the Indic influence in the region. Now, given the location of the Dvaravati, it wouldn't be so farfetched to think that someone might sail up from the Gulf of Thailand and end up off-course, though it does mean sailing up the entire Ryukyuan chain or really running off course and finding yourself adrift on the East China sea.  And if they were headed to the Tang court, perhaps they did have translators or knew Chinese, since Yamato was unlikely to know the Mon language of Dvaravati and people from Dvaravati probably wouldn't know the Japonic language.  Unless, perhaps, they were communicating through Buddhist priests via Sanskrit. We've now heard two possibilities for Tukara, both pretty far afield: the region of Tokara in Bactria, and the Dvaravati kingdom in Southeast Asia.  That said, the third and simplest explanation—and the one favored by Aston in his translation of the Nihon Shoki—is that Tukara is actually referring to a place in the Ryukyu island chain.  Specifically, there is a “Tokara” archipelago, which spans between Yakushima and Amami-Oshima.  This is part of the Nansei islands, and the closest part of the Ryukyuan island chain to the main Japanese archipelago.  This is the most likely theory, and could account for the entry talking about Amami.  It is easy to see how sailors could end up adrift, too far north, and come to shore in Hyuga, aka Himuka, on the east side of Kyushu.  It certainly would make more sense for them to be from this area of the Ryukyuan archipelago than from anywhere else.  From Yakushima to Amami-Oshima is the closest part of the island chain to Kyushu, and as we see in the entry from the Shoku Nihongi, those three places seem to have been connected as being near to Japan.  So what was going on down there, anyway? Well, first off, let's remember that the Ryukyuan archipelago is not just the island of Okinawa, but a series of islands that go from Kyushu all the way to the island of Taiwan.  Geographically speaking, they are all part of the same volcanic ridge extending southward.  The size of the islands and their distance from each other does vary, however, creating some natural barriers in the form of large stretches of open water, which have shaped how various groups developed on the islands. Humans came to the islands around the same time they were reaching the Japanese mainland.  In fact, some of our only early skeletal remains for early humans in Japan actually come from either the Ryukyuan peninsula in the south or around Hokkaido to the north, and that has to do with the acidity of the soil in much of mainland Japan. Based on genetic studies, we know that at least two groups appear to have inhabited the islands from early times.  One group appears to be related to the Jomon people of Japan, while the other appears to be more related to the indigenous people of Taiwan, who, themselves, appear to have been the ancestors of many Austronesian people.  Just as some groups followed islands to the south of Taiwan, some appear to have headed north.  However, they only made it so far.  As far as I know there is no evidence they made it past Miyakoshima, the northernmost island in the Sakishima islands.  Miyako island is separated from the next large island, Okinawa, by a large strait, known as the Miyako Strait, though sometimes called the Kerama gap in English.  It is a 250km wide stretch of open ocean, which is quite the distance for anyone to travel, even for Austronesian people of Taiwan, who had likely not developed the extraordinary navigational technologies that the people who would become the Pacific Islanders would discover. People on the Ryukyu island chain appear to have been in contact with the people of the Japanese archipelago since at least the Jomon period, and some of the material artifacts demonstrate a cultural connection.  That was likely impacted by the Akahoya eruption, about 3500 years ago, and then re-established at a later date.  We certainly see sea shells and corals trade to the people of the Japanese islands from fairly early on. Unlike the people on the Japanese archipelago, the people of the Ryukyuan archipelago did not really adopt the Yayoi and later Kofun culture.  They weren't building large, mounded tombs, and they retained the character of a hunter-gatherer society, rather than transitioning to a largely agricultural way of life.  The pottery does change in parts of Okinawa, which makes sense given the connections between the regions.  Unfortunately, there is a lot we don't know about life in the islands around this time.  We don't exactly have written records, other than things like the entries in the Nihon Shoki, and those are hardly the most detailed of accounts.  In the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou, we see people from Yakushima, which is, along with Tanegashima, one of the largest islands at the northern end of the Ryukyu chain, just before you hit Kagoshima and the Osumi peninsula on the southern tip of Kyushu.  The islands past that would be the Tokara islands, until you hit the large island of Amami. So you can see how it would make sense that the people from “Tokara” would make sense to be from the area between Yakushima and Amami, and in many ways this explanation seems too good to be true.  There are a only a few things that make this a bit peculiar. First, this doesn't really explain the woman from “Sha'e” in any compelling way that I can see.  Second, the name, Kenzuhashi Tatsuna doesn't seem to fit with what we generally know about early Japonic names, and the modern Ryukyuan language certainly is a Japonic language, but there are still plenty of possible explanations.  There is also the connection of Tokara with “Tokan”, which is mentioned in an entry in 699 in the Shoku Nihongi, the Chronicle that follows on, quite literally to the Nihon Shoki.  Why would they call it “Tokan” instead of “Tokara” so soon after?  Also, why would these voyagers go back to their country by way of the Tang court?  Unless, of course, that is where they were headed in the first place.  In which case, did the Man from Tukara intentionally leave his wife in Yamato, or was she something of a hostage while they continued on their mission?   And so those are the theories.  The man from “Tukara” could be from Tokhara, or Tokharistan, at the far end of the Silk Road.  Or it could have been referring to the Dvaravati Kingdom, in modern Thailand.  Still, in the end, Occam's razor suggests that the simplest answer is that these were actually individuals from the Tokara islands in the Ryukyuan archipelago.  It is possible that they were from Amami, not that they drifted there.  More likely, a group from Amami drifted ashore in Kyushu as they were trying to find a route to the Tang court, as they claimed.  Instead they found themselves taking a detour to the court of Yamato, instead. And we could have stuck with that story, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, this would be a good time to reflect once again on how connected everything was.  Because even if they weren't from Dvaravati, that Kingdom was still trading with Rome and with the Tang.  And the Tang controlled the majority of the overland silk road through the Tarim basin.  We even know that someone from Tukhara made it to Chang'an, because they were mentioned on a stele that talked about an Asian sect of Christianity, the “Shining Religion”, that was praised and allowed to set up shop in the Tang capital, along with Persian Manicheans and Zoroastrians.  Regardless of where these specific people may have been from, the world was clearly growing only more connected, and prospering, as well. Next episode we'll continue to look at how things were faring between the archipelago and the continent. Until then thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

Send us a textEpisode 167Zhang Qian was an explorer, diplomat, and a pivotal figure in ancient Chinese history, known especially for his role in establishing the Silk Road, the legendary trade route that connected China to the West. His life and career unfolded during the Han Dynasty, specifically under the rule of Emperor Wu, one of China's most influential rulers. Born around 195 BCE in Chenggu, in present-day Shaanxi Province, Zhang Qian started his career in the Han court and quickly gained recognition for his loyalty, intelligence, and curiosity about the world beyond China's borders.In the second century BCE, the Han Empire faced persistent threats from the Xiongnu, nomadic tribes from the north who frequently raided Chinese territories. Emperor Wu believed that an alliance with the Yuezhi, another nomadic group that had been displaced by the Xiongnu, could help contain this threat. He appointed Zhang Qian as his envoy, with a mission to seek out the Yuezhi and propose a military alliance against their common enemy, the Xiongnu.Zhang Qian set out on his journey around 138 BCE, accompanied by a small party, but was soon captured by the Xiongnu. He spent over ten years in captivity, eventually marrying a Xiongnu woman and living under their watchful eye. Despite these challenges, Zhang Qian never lost sight of his mission. After thirteen years, he managed to escape and continued his journey westward, traveling through challenging terrains and encountering diverse cultures along the way.Finally, Zhang Qian reached the Yuezhi, only to find that they were not interested in a military alliance against the Xiongnu. Nevertheless, Zhang Qian's journey was far from a failure. His travels took him as far west as Central Asia, through regions that would later become key links in the Silk Road. He returned to China in 125 BCE, bringing back detailed accounts of the lands, people, and resources he had encountered, including the sophisticated cultures of Central Asia and the possibilities for trade with distant regions.Upon his return, Zhang Qian presented his findings to Emperor Wu, who was fascinated by the potential for trade and cultural exchange. Zhang's reports emphasized the abundance of valuable goods such as horses, jade, and exotic plants, and suggested that alliances and trade relations with these regions could be mutually beneficial. Emperor Wu seized upon this vision, and it ultimately led to the creation of the Silk Road—a network of trade routes that would carry Chinese silk, spices, and other goods to the Mediterranean and beyond, while bringing new ideas, technologies, and products back to China.Zhang Qian's journey had a profound impact on Chinese history and international trade. By bridging the gap between East and West, he helped lay the foundation for centuries of cultural and economic exchange. His legacy lives on in the Silk Road, which transformed the ancient world and opened China to the broader global community. Zhang Qian's pioneering spirit and resilience continue to be celebrated as key contributions to China's rich historical and cultural heritage.Thank you for all your support,Darren.Support the showInsta@justpassingthroughpodcastContact:justpassingthroughpodcast@gmail.comArtwork @digitalnomadicart on Insta

Here's another CHP Special Episode. Not too long ago I had the chance to chat with Yokohama-based Scott Crawford, author of "Silk Road Centurian", "The Han-Xiongnu Wars", and a new one coming out any day now (co-written with his wife Alexis Kossiakoff), "The Phoenix and the Firebird." Scott has also written several works of short fiction that have appeared in fantasy, mystery, and horror magazines and anthologies. We talked mostly about the Han Dynasty and two books he has written, one non-fiction and another a work of fiction, both set in that exciting time period. Scott's Amazon Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0BZTYTHHC/allbooks?ingress=0&visitId=37c7279d-4be0-46f3-8d29-60771ed38fed Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Here's another CHP Special Episode. Not too long ago I had the chance to chat with Yokohama-based Scott Crawford, author of "Silk Road Centurian", "The Han-Xiongnu Wars", and a new one coming out any day now (co-written with his wife Alexis Kossiakoff), "The Phoenix and the Firebird." Scott has also written several works of short fiction that have appeared in fantasy, mystery, and horror magazines and anthologies. We talked mostly about the Han Dynasty and two books he has written, one non-fiction and another a work of fiction, both set in that exciting time period. Scott's Amazon Page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/author/B0BZTYTHHC/allbooks?ingress=0&visitId=37c7279d-4be0-46f3-8d29-60771ed38fed Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Good Sunday afternoon to you,I was blown away by the response to Wednesday's article about weight loss. The Twitter/X summary got more than 10 million views. Here it is, in case you missed it. Going forward, I am thinking of writing more alternative health stuff, as there seems to be a huge appetite for it. But today it's business as usual: gold. And I have a question for you …The Great Steppe stretches approximately 5,000 miles from the Pacific coast of China through Mongolia, Siberia, Xinjiang, Kazakhstan, Russia, Ukraine, and Romania, reaching the Danube Delta and Hungary.Vast stretches of grassland, savanna, and shrubland—harsh and dry, devoid of trees and large vegetation—are sandwiched between forests to the north and mountains and deserts to the south. This region has connected Central Europe, Eastern Europe, Western Asia, Central Asia, East Asia, and South Asia since the Paleolithic Age, serving as a predecessor to the Silk Road and the Eurasian land bridge.This ocean of grass is one of the world's largest ecosystems. Many remarkable species—elk, gazelle, brown bear, leopard, and tiger—have made it their home. So have many great nomadic empires—the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Mongols, the Huns, and the Göktürk Khaganate—all famous for their ferocity, horsemanship, and military might.The open space gives rise to mighty extremes of weather—howling winds, unbearable heat by day, and freezing cold by night. Humans could only survive by breeding creatures—goats, sheep, camels, and cattle—even hardier than themselves. Of all of these, perhaps the most essential to human survival and evolution was the horse.The horse was first domesticated on the Steppe about 6,000 years ago, probably by the Botai people in present-day Kazakhstan. Their horses—likely similar to today's Mongolian horse—were small, stocky, and hardy, able to travel long distances in trying conditions. The horse enabled tribes to guide their flocks over large distances as they searched for new grazing lands. It facilitated trade and exchange, and allowed them to form huge and terrifying armies.The fearsome Scythians were the first to use horses in battle, carrying stones, clubs, and bows as weapons. These marauding armies inspired fear. Their warriors were such brilliant horsemen that it seemed they and their horses were one creature, giving rise to the Greek myth of the centaur: wild, untamed, and violent; strong, fast, and ferocious; drunken, lawless, and lustful, with the upper body of a man and the lower body of a horse.The Greeks had a complicated relationship with the Scythians, both admiring and fearing them. Chiron, one of the centaurs famous for his wisdom and knowledge of medicine, tutored many of the greatest Greek heroes, including Hercules, Achilles, and Jason. Perhaps the Greeks exaggerated their barbarity to contrast it with their own sophistication and culture.In any case, while the centaur has endured in myth, it was not long before it was realized that man and beast were not one, and the practice of horse-riding spread beyond the Great Steppe. The horse became the primary mode of land transport for thousands of years.You really should subscribe.Then the Industrial Revolution came along. The first steam locomotive was developed in England in 1804. By the mid-19th century, railroads had become the primary mode of transportation for people and goods across much of the world. It was the beginning of the end for horses as a primary mode of transportation.In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the automobile emerged. “Horseless carriages,” they were called. Karl Benz developed the first gasoline-powered car in 1885. By the early 1900s, cars had become a common sight on many roads, further diminishing the need for horses.Inventor Alexander Winton sought investment for his Winton Motor Carriage Company. “Get a horse!” a banker told him. “You're crazy if you think this fool contraption you've been wasting your time on will ever displace the horse.”Winton continues:“From my pocket, I took a clipping from the New York World of November 17, 1895, and asked him to read it. He brushed it aside. I insisted. It was an interview with Thomas A. Edison: ‘Talking of horseless carriages suggests to my mind that the horse is doomed… Ten years from now you will be able to buy a horseless vehicle for what you would pay today for a wagon and a pair of horses. The money spent in the keep of the horses will be saved and the danger to life will be much reduced.'”The banker threw back the clipping and snorted, “Another inventor talking.”Today, the horse is, for the most part, an expensive luxury. Its use is often just symbolic.How does this relate to goldHere is my question:Could you say the same about gold?The horse was transport for 6,000 years. It was transport for almost as long as gold was official money. It was “natural transport.”But just as transport changes as technology evolves, so does money.Perhaps gold is to money as the horse is to transport?Something to ponder this Sunday afternoon.(SPOILER: I don't think it is!)Tell your friends about this amazing article. As from later this week I will be at the Edinburgh Fringe, performing Shaping the Earth, a “lecture with funny bits” about the history of mining. I'm then taking the show to London on October 9th and 10th to the Museum of Comedy. Please come if you fancy a bit of “learning and laughter”. The Edinburgh link is here. And the London link is here.Plus:Charlie Morris is one of my closest mates and he writes what I think is one of the best investment newsletters out there, in fact a suite of them. I urge you to sign up for a free trial. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.theflyingfrisby.com/subscribe

Good Sunday afternoon to you,I was blown away by the response to Wednesday's article about weight loss. The Twitter/X summary got more than 10 million views. Here it is, in case you missed it. Going forward, I am thinking of writing more alternative health stuff, as there seems to be a huge appetite for it. But today it's business as usual: gold. And I have a question for you …The Great Steppe stretches approximately 5,000 miles from the Pacific coast of China through Mongolia, Siberia, Xinjiang, Kazakhstan, Russia, Ukraine, and Romania, reaching the Danube Delta and Hungary.Vast stretches of grassland, savanna, and shrubland—harsh and dry, devoid of trees and large vegetation—are sandwiched between forests to the north and mountains and deserts to the south. This region has connected Central Europe, Eastern Europe, Western Asia, Central Asia, East Asia, and South Asia since the Paleolithic Age, serving as a predecessor to the Silk Road and the Eurasian land bridge.This ocean of grass is one of the world's largest ecosystems. Many remarkable species—elk, gazelle, brown bear, leopard, and tiger—have made it their home. So have many great nomadic empires—the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Mongols, the Huns, and the Göktürk Khaganate—all famous for their ferocity, horsemanship, and military might.The open space gives rise to mighty extremes of weather—howling winds, unbearable heat by day, and freezing cold by night. Humans could only survive by breeding creatures—goats, sheep, camels, and cattle—even hardier than themselves. Of all of these, perhaps the most essential to human survival and evolution was the horse.The horse was first domesticated on the Steppe about 6,000 years ago, probably by the Botai people in present-day Kazakhstan. Their horses—likely similar to today's Mongolian horse—were small, stocky, and hardy, able to travel long distances in trying conditions. The horse enabled tribes to guide their flocks over large distances as they searched for new grazing lands. It facilitated trade and exchange, and allowed them to form huge and terrifying armies.The fearsome Scythians were the first to use horses in battle, carrying stones, clubs, and bows as weapons. These marauding armies inspired fear. Their warriors were such brilliant horsemen that it seemed they and their horses were one creature, giving rise to the Greek myth of the centaur: wild, untamed, and violent; strong, fast, and ferocious; drunken, lawless, and lustful, with the upper body of a man and the lower body of a horse.The Greeks had a complicated relationship with the Scythians, both admiring and fearing them. Chiron, one of the centaurs famous for his wisdom and knowledge of medicine, tutored many of the greatest Greek heroes, including Hercules, Achilles, and Jason. Perhaps the Greeks exaggerated their barbarity to contrast it with their own sophistication and culture.In any case, while the centaur has endured in myth, it was not long before it was realized that man and beast were not one, and the practice of horse-riding spread beyond the Great Steppe. The horse became the primary mode of land transport for thousands of years.You really should subscribe.Then the Industrial Revolution came along. The first steam locomotive was developed in England in 1804. By the mid-19th century, railroads had become the primary mode of transportation for people and goods across much of the world. It was the beginning of the end for horses as a primary mode of transportation.In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the automobile emerged. “Horseless carriages,” they were called. Karl Benz developed the first gasoline-powered car in 1885. By the early 1900s, cars had become a common sight on many roads, further diminishing the need for horses.Inventor Alexander Winton sought investment for his Winton Motor Carriage Company. “Get a horse!” a banker told him. “You're crazy if you think this fool contraption you've been wasting your time on will ever displace the horse.”Winton continues:“From my pocket, I took a clipping from the New York World of November 17, 1895, and asked him to read it. He brushed it aside. I insisted. It was an interview with Thomas A. Edison: ‘Talking of horseless carriages suggests to my mind that the horse is doomed… Ten years from now you will be able to buy a horseless vehicle for what you would pay today for a wagon and a pair of horses. The money spent in the keep of the horses will be saved and the danger to life will be much reduced.'”The banker threw back the clipping and snorted, “Another inventor talking.”Today, the horse is, for the most part, an expensive luxury. Its use is often just symbolic.How does this relate to goldHere is my question:Could you say the same about gold?The horse was transport for 6,000 years. It was transport for almost as long as gold was official money. It was “natural transport.”But just as transport changes as technology evolves, so does money.Perhaps gold is to money as the horse is to transport?Something to ponder this Sunday afternoon.(SPOILER: I don't think it is!)Tell your friends about this amazing article. As from later this week I will be at the Edinburgh Fringe, performing Shaping the Earth, a “lecture with funny bits” about the history of mining. I'm then taking the show to London on October 9th and 10th to the Museum of Comedy. Please come if you fancy a bit of “learning and laughter”. The Edinburgh link is here. And the London link is here.Plus:Charlie Morris is one of my closest mates and he writes what I think is one of the best investment newsletters out there, in fact a suite of them. I urge you to sign up for a free trial. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.theflyingfrisby.com/subscribe

In this episode, Jackson sits down to talk to Scott Forbes Crawford all about his brand new book Pen and Sword, The Han-Xiongnu War! The two discuss the various military and political strategies that the two sides deployed to try and win the war and defeat the other power!Grab a copy of Scott's book hereKeep up to date with Scott hereIf you want to get in touch with History with Jackson email: jackson@historywithjackson.co.ukTo catch up on everything to do with History with Jackson head to www.HistorywithJackson.co.ukFollow us on Facebook at @HistorywithJacksonFollow us on Instagram at @HistorywithJacksonFollow us on X/Twitter at @HistorywJacksonFollow us on TikTok at @HistorywithJackson Get bonus content on Patreon Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

For two centuries, the Xiongnu people–a vast nomadic empire that covered modern-day Siberia, Inner Mongolia, Gansu and Xinjiang—were one of the Han Dynasty's fiercest rivals. They raided the wealthy and prosperous Chinese, and even forced the Han to treat them as equals—much to the chagrin of those in the imperial court. There's not much known about the Xiongnu: Even their name is in Chinese, which literally translates to “"fierce slave", which is unlikely to be what the actual people called themselves. But writer and historian Scott Crawford set himself the challenge of writing about the over two-centuries of politics, alliances and conflict between Han China and the Xiongnu empire, in his book The Han-Xiongnu War, 133 BC–89 AD: The Struggle of China and a Steppe Empire Told Through Its Key Figures (Pen & Sword, 2023). In this interview, Scott and I talk about the Xiongnu people, the threat they presented to Han China, political shenanigans at the imperial court, and just how far geographically the conflict expanded. Scott is a novelist and historian. He wrote the historical novel Silk Road Centurion (Camphor Press, 2023) and numerous articles and works of fiction exploring relations between China and its steppe neighbors. You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of The Han-Xiongnu War. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at@nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

For two centuries, the Xiongnu people–a vast nomadic empire that covered modern-day Siberia, Inner Mongolia, Gansu and Xinjiang—were one of the Han Dynasty's fiercest rivals. They raided the wealthy and prosperous Chinese, and even forced the Han to treat them as equals—much to the chagrin of those in the imperial court. There's not much known about the Xiongnu: Even their name is in Chinese, which literally translates to “"fierce slave", which is unlikely to be what the actual people called themselves. But writer and historian Scott Crawford set himself the challenge of writing about the over two-centuries of politics, alliances and conflict between Han China and the Xiongnu empire, in his book The Han-Xiongnu War, 133 BC–89 AD: The Struggle of China and a Steppe Empire Told Through Its Key Figures (Pen & Sword, 2023). In this interview, Scott and I talk about the Xiongnu people, the threat they presented to Han China, political shenanigans at the imperial court, and just how far geographically the conflict expanded. Scott is a novelist and historian. He wrote the historical novel Silk Road Centurion (Camphor Press, 2023) and numerous articles and works of fiction exploring relations between China and its steppe neighbors. You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of The Han-Xiongnu War. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at@nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/east-asian-studies

For two centuries, the Xiongnu people–a vast nomadic empire that covered modern-day Siberia, Inner Mongolia, Gansu and Xinjiang—were one of the Han Dynasty's fiercest rivals. They raided the wealthy and prosperous Chinese, and even forced the Han to treat them as equals—much to the chagrin of those in the imperial court. There's not much known about the Xiongnu: Even their name is in Chinese, which literally translates to “"fierce slave", which is unlikely to be what the actual people called themselves. But writer and historian Scott Crawford set himself the challenge of writing about the over two-centuries of politics, alliances and conflict between Han China and the Xiongnu empire, in his book The Han-Xiongnu War, 133 BC–89 AD: The Struggle of China and a Steppe Empire Told Through Its Key Figures (Pen & Sword, 2023). In this interview, Scott and I talk about the Xiongnu people, the threat they presented to Han China, political shenanigans at the imperial court, and just how far geographically the conflict expanded. Scott is a novelist and historian. He wrote the historical novel Silk Road Centurion (Camphor Press, 2023) and numerous articles and works of fiction exploring relations between China and its steppe neighbors. You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of The Han-Xiongnu War. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at@nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/military-history

For two centuries, the Xiongnu people–a vast nomadic empire that covered modern-day Siberia, Inner Mongolia, Gansu and Xinjiang—were one of the Han Dynasty's fiercest rivals. They raided the wealthy and prosperous Chinese, and even forced the Han to treat them as equals—much to the chagrin of those in the imperial court. There's not much known about the Xiongnu: Even their name is in Chinese, which literally translates to “"fierce slave", which is unlikely to be what the actual people called themselves. But writer and historian Scott Crawford set himself the challenge of writing about the over two-centuries of politics, alliances and conflict between Han China and the Xiongnu empire, in his book The Han-Xiongnu War, 133 BC–89 AD: The Struggle of China and a Steppe Empire Told Through Its Key Figures (Pen & Sword, 2023). In this interview, Scott and I talk about the Xiongnu people, the threat they presented to Han China, political shenanigans at the imperial court, and just how far geographically the conflict expanded. Scott is a novelist and historian. He wrote the historical novel Silk Road Centurion (Camphor Press, 2023) and numerous articles and works of fiction exploring relations between China and its steppe neighbors. You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of The Han-Xiongnu War. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at@nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/chinese-studies

For two centuries, the Xiongnu people–a vast nomadic empire that covered modern-day Siberia, Inner Mongolia, Gansu and Xinjiang—were one of the Han Dynasty's fiercest rivals. They raided the wealthy and prosperous Chinese, and even forced the Han to treat them as equals—much to the chagrin of those in the imperial court. There's not much known about the Xiongnu: Even their name is in Chinese, which literally translates to “"fierce slave", which is unlikely to be what the actual people called themselves. But writer and historian Scott Crawford set himself the challenge of writing about the over two-centuries of politics, alliances and conflict between Han China and the Xiongnu empire, in his book The Han-Xiongnu War, 133 BC–89 AD: The Struggle of China and a Steppe Empire Told Through Its Key Figures (Pen & Sword, 2023). In this interview, Scott and I talk about the Xiongnu people, the threat they presented to Han China, political shenanigans at the imperial court, and just how far geographically the conflict expanded. Scott is a novelist and historian. He wrote the historical novel Silk Road Centurion (Camphor Press, 2023) and numerous articles and works of fiction exploring relations between China and its steppe neighbors. You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of The Han-Xiongnu War. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at@nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

For two centuries, the Xiongnu people–a vast nomadic empire that covered modern-day Siberia, Inner Mongolia, Gansu and Xinjiang—were one of the Han Dynasty's fiercest rivals. They raided the wealthy and prosperous Chinese, and even forced the Han to treat them as equals—much to the chagrin of those in the imperial court. There's not much known about the Xiongnu: Even their name is in Chinese, which literally translates to “"fierce slave", which is unlikely to be what the actual people called themselves. But writer and historian Scott Crawford set himself the challenge of writing about the over two-centuries of politics, alliances and conflict between Han China and the Xiongnu empire, in his book The Han-Xiongnu War, 133 BC–89 AD: The Struggle of China and a Steppe Empire Told Through Its Key Figures (Pen & Sword, 2023). In this interview, Scott and I talk about the Xiongnu people, the threat they presented to Han China, political shenanigans at the imperial court, and just how far geographically the conflict expanded. Scott is a novelist and historian. He wrote the historical novel Silk Road Centurion (Camphor Press, 2023) and numerous articles and works of fiction exploring relations between China and its steppe neighbors. You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of The Han-Xiongnu War. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at@nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/asian-review

Mongolei Vom nomadischen Großreich zum Pufferstaat 45.000 Jahre alte Steinwerkzeuge sind die frühesten Belege des modernen Menschen auf dem Gebiet der heutigen Mongolei. Die Entdeckung von Kupferlagerstätten führte ab 2.500 v. Chr. zu einer raschen kulturellen Entwicklung der Region. Im 3. Jh. v. Chr. versuchte der Stamm der Xiongnu erfolglos auf chinesisches Gebiet vorzudringen. Um weitere Einfälle aus dem Norden zu verhindern wurde mit der Errichtung der Chinesischen Mauer begonnen. (1) Der Auftsieg der Mongolei zum Großreich - MIt der Sinologin Sabine Hinrichs vom Institut für Ostasienwissenschaften der Universität Wien - Sendung vom 21.5.2024

In Xiongnu: The World's First Nomadic Empire (Oxford UP, 2024), Bryan K. Miller weaves together archaeology and history to chart the course of the Xiongnu empire, which controlled the Eastern Eurasian steppe from ca. 200 BCE to 100 CE. Through a close analysis of both material artifacts and textual sources, Miller centers the nomadic perspective, showcasing the flexibility, resilience, and mobility of this steppe regime.  Comprehensive and wide-reaching, Xiongnu explores the rise of the empire, details how the empire controlled nodes of wealth and far-flung power bases, and charts the slow and fractured decline of the Xiongnu empire. Throughout, Miller provides fascinating readings of burial goods, vibrant tellings of oath ceremonies, and careful interpretations of Chinese letters and histories. Xiongnu firmly brings its nomad protagonists onto center stage and into sharp focus, and this book is bound to appeal to those interested in archaeology, nomadic societies, and world history.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

In Xiongnu: The World's First Nomadic Empire (Oxford UP, 2024), Bryan K. Miller weaves together archaeology and history to chart the course of the Xiongnu empire, which controlled the Eastern Eurasian steppe from ca. 200 BCE to 100 CE. Through a close analysis of both material artifacts and textual sources, Miller centers the nomadic perspective, showcasing the flexibility, resilience, and mobility of this steppe regime.  Comprehensive and wide-reaching, Xiongnu explores the rise of the empire, details how the empire controlled nodes of wealth and far-flung power bases, and charts the slow and fractured decline of the Xiongnu empire. Throughout, Miller provides fascinating readings of burial goods, vibrant tellings of oath ceremonies, and careful interpretations of Chinese letters and histories. Xiongnu firmly brings its nomad protagonists onto center stage and into sharp focus, and this book is bound to appeal to those interested in archaeology, nomadic societies, and world history.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

In Xiongnu: The World's First Nomadic Empire (Oxford UP, 2024), Bryan K. Miller weaves together archaeology and history to chart the course of the Xiongnu empire, which controlled the Eastern Eurasian steppe from ca. 200 BCE to 100 CE. Through a close analysis of both material artifacts and textual sources, Miller centers the nomadic perspective, showcasing the flexibility, resilience, and mobility of this steppe regime.  Comprehensive and wide-reaching, Xiongnu explores the rise of the empire, details how the empire controlled nodes of wealth and far-flung power bases, and charts the slow and fractured decline of the Xiongnu empire. Throughout, Miller provides fascinating readings of burial goods, vibrant tellings of oath ceremonies, and careful interpretations of Chinese letters and histories. Xiongnu firmly brings its nomad protagonists onto center stage and into sharp focus, and this book is bound to appeal to those interested in archaeology, nomadic societies, and world history.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/east-asian-studies

In Xiongnu: The World's First Nomadic Empire (Oxford UP, 2024), Bryan K. Miller weaves together archaeology and history to chart the course of the Xiongnu empire, which controlled the Eastern Eurasian steppe from ca. 200 BCE to 100 CE. Through a close analysis of both material artifacts and textual sources, Miller centers the nomadic perspective, showcasing the flexibility, resilience, and mobility of this steppe regime.  Comprehensive and wide-reaching, Xiongnu explores the rise of the empire, details how the empire controlled nodes of wealth and far-flung power bases, and charts the slow and fractured decline of the Xiongnu empire. Throughout, Miller provides fascinating readings of burial goods, vibrant tellings of oath ceremonies, and careful interpretations of Chinese letters and histories. Xiongnu firmly brings its nomad protagonists onto center stage and into sharp focus, and this book is bound to appeal to those interested in archaeology, nomadic societies, and world history.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/military-history

In Xiongnu: The World's First Nomadic Empire (Oxford UP, 2024), Bryan K. Miller weaves together archaeology and history to chart the course of the Xiongnu empire, which controlled the Eastern Eurasian steppe from ca. 200 BCE to 100 CE. Through a close analysis of both material artifacts and textual sources, Miller centers the nomadic perspective, showcasing the flexibility, resilience, and mobility of this steppe regime.  Comprehensive and wide-reaching, Xiongnu explores the rise of the empire, details how the empire controlled nodes of wealth and far-flung power bases, and charts the slow and fractured decline of the Xiongnu empire. Throughout, Miller provides fascinating readings of burial goods, vibrant tellings of oath ceremonies, and careful interpretations of Chinese letters and histories. Xiongnu firmly brings its nomad protagonists onto center stage and into sharp focus, and this book is bound to appeal to those interested in archaeology, nomadic societies, and world history.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/central-asian-studies

In Xiongnu: The World's First Nomadic Empire (Oxford UP, 2024), Bryan K. Miller weaves together archaeology and history to chart the course of the Xiongnu empire, which controlled the Eastern Eurasian steppe from ca. 200 BCE to 100 CE. Through a close analysis of both material artifacts and textual sources, Miller centers the nomadic perspective, showcasing the flexibility, resilience, and mobility of this steppe regime.  Comprehensive and wide-reaching, Xiongnu explores the rise of the empire, details how the empire controlled nodes of wealth and far-flung power bases, and charts the slow and fractured decline of the Xiongnu empire. Throughout, Miller provides fascinating readings of burial goods, vibrant tellings of oath ceremonies, and careful interpretations of Chinese letters and histories. Xiongnu firmly brings its nomad protagonists onto center stage and into sharp focus, and this book is bound to appeal to those interested in archaeology, nomadic societies, and world history.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/archaeology

In Xiongnu: The World's First Nomadic Empire (Oxford UP, 2024), Bryan K. Miller weaves together archaeology and history to chart the course of the Xiongnu empire, which controlled the Eastern Eurasian steppe from ca. 200 BCE to 100 CE. Through a close analysis of both material artifacts and textual sources, Miller centers the nomadic perspective, showcasing the flexibility, resilience, and mobility of this steppe regime.  Comprehensive and wide-reaching, Xiongnu explores the rise of the empire, details how the empire controlled nodes of wealth and far-flung power bases, and charts the slow and fractured decline of the Xiongnu empire. Throughout, Miller provides fascinating readings of burial goods, vibrant tellings of oath ceremonies, and careful interpretations of Chinese letters and histories. Xiongnu firmly brings its nomad protagonists onto center stage and into sharp focus, and this book is bound to appeal to those interested in archaeology, nomadic societies, and world history.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Content warning for discussion of genocide and mention of suicide. Hey, Hi, Hello, this is the History Wizard and welcome back for Day 6 of Have a Day w/ The History Wizard. Thank you to everyone who tuned in for Day 5 last week, and especially thank you to everyone who rated and/or reviewed the podcast. I hope you all learned something last week and I hope the same for this week. This week we're going to, finally, be stepping outside of the Western sphere of influence and migrating over towards Jin Dynasty China to learn about an event that is sometimes known as the Upheaval of the Five Barbarians. This refers to the genocide of many non-Han tribes from China that took place in the beginning of the 4th century CE. As always, we will start with that most important of set dressings, context. The thing that, without, all of history would just be one shot DnD stories told around a table. But before even that, let's talk about the word barbarian. Etymologically the word barbarian comes to us from the Greek word barbar, meaning a non-Greek person or someone who didn't speak ancient Greek. Meaning that, technically, we are all barbarians. In a more modern context the word has a far more pejorative connotation. It's used in the same contexts as words like savages or uncivilized. It becomes an inherently stigmatizing term. One designed to make the people being referred to by it inherently lesser than those using it. The is one of our first instances of dehumanization being used in a historic genocide. The Romans didn't see the Carthaginians as animals or subhuman, merely as a threat to the Roman way of life and to Roman hegemony over the Mediterranean. Pontus didn't see the Romans as barbarians or savages, merely a threat to Pontus's control over Asia Minor. But the Five Barbarian Tribes? They were inherently less. They were, to be sure, a threat to Jin dynastic control over China, but more than that, they weren't Han Chinese, and so they were ethnically inferior. The Jin Dynasty emerged from the chaos and turmoil of the Three Kingdoms Period. Following the end of the Han Dynasty the Three Kingdoms of Cao Wei, Shu Han, and Eastern Wu dominated China from 220 to 280 CE. The Sima clan from the Cao Wei kingdom rose to prominence in 249 CE after staging a coup against the Cao clan. By 263 Sima Yi had conquered both the kingdom of Cao Wei and the Kingdom of Shu Han. Sima Yi would die in 265 CE, but his son Sima Yan would go on to conquer the kingdom of Eastern Wu in 280 CE, uniting China once again and declaring himself the first emperor of the Jin Dynasty. Sima Yan would die 10 years later, in 290 CE and would be called Emperor Wu, the Martial Emperor of Jin, posthumously. The death of Emperor Wu would spark a succession war that would come to be known as the War of the Eight Princes, and it would be within the context of this war that the Upheaval of the Five Barbarians would occur. See, after Emperor Wu died he was succeeded by his son, Sima Zhong, also known as Emperor Hui. Hui was developmentally disabled. We don't know the exact nature of his disability, but records show that, while he could read and write just fine, he was unable to make traditionally logical decisions on his own. So, despite ruling as emperor for 17 years, Emperor Hui never exercised any real authority on his own, instead coming under the control of 9 different regents over the course of his reign. It was because of Emperor Hui's disabilities and the relative ease with which he could be controlled by a regent that the War of the Eight Princes began in earnest. The War of the Eight Princes, which lasted from 290 until 306 CE is somewhat akin to the Hundred YEars War in that it was not an extended period of continuous fighting. It was stretches of relative peace, interspersed with massive amounts of lethal violence that saw shifts in power each time. First, after Emperor Wu died he named his father in law Yang Jun, and the Prince of Ru'nan, Sima Liang, as coregents of his second son, Sima Zhong. Yang Jun though didn't want to share power and managed to get Sima Liang sent away from court to Xucheng, leaving himself in sole control over the imperial court. Yang Jun, however, was wildly unpopular and was soon deposed by Jia Nanfeng, the new Empress of Jin and Sima Liang, who became the first of the Eight Princes in this war. The rest were Sima Wei, Sima Lun, SIma Jiong, Sima Ai (sometimes written as Sima Yi), Sima Ying, Sima Yong, and Sima Yue. All of these men were rulers over certain administrative zones within the control of the Jin Dynasty and some of them, like Sima Wei, ruled for just days before being captured and killed by other princes. The third prince, Sima Lun, was the tutor of the crown prince, son of Sima Zhong, Sima Yu. Empress Jia, fearing a loss of her own power should Sima Yu come of age and inherit the throne had him arrested. This led some Chinese government officials to reach out to Sima Lun to gain his aid in overthrowing the Empress, who had been ruling as regent since Sima Wei had been executed. Lun not only captured the Empress, but also forced her to commit suicide by making her drink gold powdered wine. Sima Lun gaining control of the regency caused many of the other princes to join forces Sima Jiong, who had been discontented by his position in the government following the overthrow of Empress Jia and sent to Xuchang, Sima Ying, and Sima Yong. Sima Ying joined with Sima Jiong after the latter declared rebellion against Sima Lun, and Sima Yong was originally on the side of Sima Lun, but defected to the other side once he realized that Sima Jiong and Ying had a larger and more powerful army. Sima Lun was defeated in relatively short order, and much like Empress Jia, was forced to commit suicide. Once Emperor Hui was reinstated on the throne he declared a grand celebration in the form of a five day, non stop, drinking binge. The emperor's drink of choice was likely wine or a fermented spirit called baijiu which is made from sorghum. SIma Jiong was eventually betrayed by his allies Sima Ying and Yong and was killed by his own troops. It was actually Sima Ai who captured the capital after Sima Jiong death, but he elected to share authority with his brother, Sima Ying. Ying wasn't happy about this though and colluded with Sima Yong to try and have Sima Ai assassinated, though this plot would fail. War would once again break out between SIma Ai and Sima Ying and Yong, only this time SIma Ai would ultimately fall to his brother and Sima Yong.  Sima Yue, the Prince of Donghai, eventually rebelled against SIma Ying, and though being defeated was appointed to the preposition ot Grand Tutor to try and make peace between the two sides. This peace wouldn't last as in 305 SIma Yue would raise troops against SIma Yong. Yue would ultimately be victorious over both Ying and Yong and would rule as the last regent before Emperor Hui died on January 8, 307 CE after eating poisoned bread. There is some debate over whether or not Sima Yue was responsible for the Emperor's death. But, after Emperor Hui died he was succeeded by his brother, Sima Chi, known as Emperor Huai. Huai needed no regent, and so ruled in his own right. Though he would oversee the loss of much of the Jin Dynasty's territory following the Upheaval. Now, so far we've talked a lot about princes, but very little about Barbarians. So now it's time to shift our focus. Both of these events happened roughly concurrently, and while there was certainly some overlap between them, they were two different events. The Five Barbarians was a name applied to various nomadic tribes later in history. Those tribes being the Xiongnu, the Jie, the Xianbei, the Qiang, and the Di. All of these tribes (although the Xiongnu is technically a tribal confederation) are also often referred to under the exonym Hu. Now, various tribes and tribal confederacies had been immigrating into China since the later days of the Han Dynasty, and while relations between these tribes and the people of China wasn't always sunshine and roses it was good enough that these peoples could live together. With China being thrown into chaos by the Three Kingdoms Period and the War of the Eight Princes many of the tribes went into rebellion. And so in 304 CE, before the War of the Eight Princes even ended, China entered the Sixteen Kingdoms period as various, often short lived, dynastic kingdoms were founded in the northern parts of China. As one might expect, the Jin Dynasty refused to accept these new kingdoms as distinct from it, and it also refused to accept them as political equals. For example, envoys from the Shi Zhao dynasty, an ethnically Jie dynasty ruled over by Shi Le, a man who had once been an indentured farmer before rising to power during Liu Yuan's rebellion that established the Han Zhao dynasty, were expelled and all of their gifts they brought for Sima Chi were burnt. You might be wondering what all of the 16 kingdoms were, well The term "Sixteen Kingdoms" was first used by the 6th-century historian Cui Hong in the Spring and Autumn Annals of the Sixteen Kingdoms and refers to the five Liangs (Former, Later, Northern, Southern and Western), four Yans (Former, Later, Northern, and Southern), three Qins (Former, Later and Western), two Zhaos (Han/Former and Later), Cheng-Han and Xia. There was even a brief period between 376 and 383 when the Former Qin dynasty reunited all of northern China. In 386 Northern China would be fully reunited under the Northern Wei dynasty and by 420 southern China was fully reunited under the Liu Song dynasty, but to find our genocide we actually need to go a little further back in time. We've drifted too far forward. We now find ourselves in the Later Zhao dynasty, also known as the Shi Zhao dynasty. Remember that Shi Le was part of one of the Five Barbarian tribes. He was of Jie ethnicity. Shi Le and his adoptive brother Shi Hu had long standing habits and traditions of adopting other people into their clans. Bringing into the family through law, if not necessarily by blood. One such man was Ran Zhan, an ethnically Han man who would be adopted under the name Shi Min. Shi Min gained power over the Shi Zhao dynasty through the methods you might expected after listening to everything else in this episode. He lied, cheated, and staged a coup. While in control of the Shi Zhao dynasty, Shi Min survived no fewer than three assassination attempts in the first year of his rule. This lead Shi Min to conclude that he couldn't trust any of his followers, but he was especially wary of the Jie and the various other tribes as they were refusing to fall in line with his edicts. See, Shi Min, in his paranoia ordered that all Hu people be disarmed and be banned from carrying weapons (disarmament of a particular segment of the population is often an initial step towards genocide as it prevents them from being able to fight back when you ultimately decide to kill them.) When non-Chinese tribes began to flee the capital city of Ye, Shi Min realized that he would not be able to use the Hu, so he issued an order (this is generally referred to as a culling order) to the ethnic Chinese according to which each civil servant who killed one Hu and brought his head to him would be promoted in rank by three degrees, and a military officer would be transferred to the service at his Supreme Command. Shi Min himself led Chinese in killing the Hu people without regard for sex or age; during the day tens of thousands of heads were severed. In total over 200 thousand people were killed; their bodies were dumped outside the city. Troop commanders in various parts of the state received a rescript from Shi Min to kill the Hus; as a result half of the people with high noses and bushy beards were killed. Among the 200,000 people who died in the massacre many were in fact ethnic Chinese who had high big noses, deep-set eyes and thick full beards, which in combination were considered to be the indicators of non-Hanness. This brings us an important point when talking about genocides which is, how do perpetrators identify their victim groups? Well, the simple answer is, they don't. In most cases the identifying features or characteristics that perpetrators use are arbitrary and are not particular to one group of people. The Nazis misidentified thousands of people as Jewish based solely on the size and shape of their nose or whether or not they were circumcised. I, myself, have been misidentified as Jewish by neo Nazis on the internet because of the size of my nose. Shi Min chose a big nose and a full beard as distinctly “barbarian” features, completely ignoring that many ethnically Han people would share those features. There is no logic in how genocidal regimes operate. Never was, never will be. Another thing I want to highlight is the use of the word cull when referring to the orders Shi Min gave in 349 CE. Words like cull or purge can be seen often when discussing genocide. You will find euphemism in all aspects of genocide. Now, obviously the word genocide didn't exist in 349 CE, so there was no way to call it that, but words like purge or cull are designed to be clinical and detached from the act of killing. There's no direct call to murder, or slaughter, or massacre. There's a call to cull the divisive, lesser, elements from our society. This allows people to remove themselves by one step from the violence they are about to commit. It doesn't change facts, it doesn't make something any less of a genocide, but it does make it easier for people to be convinced to carry one out. That's it for this week folks. Thanks so much for tuning in and sticking around. We have some more reviews to read this week, so let's get right to that. Thank you all so much, and now for the outro Have a Day! w/ The History Wizard is brought to you by me, The History Wizard. If you want to see/hear more of me you can find me on Tiktok @thehistorywizard or on Instagram @the_history_wizard. Please remember to rate, review, and subscribe to Have a Day! On your pod catcher of choice. The more you do, the more people will be able to listen and learn along with you. Thank you  for sticking around until the end and, as always, Have a Day

This week is the last in our Sima Qian series, but it is also definitely the best. We look at how Sima Qian lost his testicles while sticking to his principles. We consider the conflict between him and Emperor Wu that percipitated his castration. I also make a big announcement.  Here is the Transcript:   My name is Lee Moore, and this is the Chinese literature podcast. We are coming to the end of our Summa Chen series. Last week, we looked at Summa Chen's discussion of the capitalists, Summa Chen's defense of free market principles. This week, we are looking at one of the most famous Summa Chen works. And strangely, it might not even have been by Sima Qian himself.   This week we are talking about the famous Bao Ren An Shu, the letter replying to Ren An, the letter to Ren An as it's sometimes translated. First we're going to discuss the controversy surrounding the letter and the context in which it was produced, and then we're going to dive into the letter itself.   So what's the controversy? There's actually a debate as to whether or not Sima Qian wrote the letter. The letter to Renan, despite the fact that This is the work that Sima Qian is most known for. It doesn't appear in the shi ji, the records of the historian. The records of the historian is Sima Qian's main work.   Why doesn't the letter of Ren'an appear in that work? We don't really know. Instead, it appears in the Han shu, the history of the Han, the book of the Han. The Han shu, is a work that appears almost two centuries after Sima Qian's death. Now, the letter to Renan appears in that work and it purports to be by Sima Qian.   Did Sima Qian actually write this letter? It's hard to say. There's a book written by Li Weiyi, Michael Nylan, Han Venice, and Stephen Durant. They're all stunningly good. Scholars, professor Durant's a friend of the podcast has appeared on the podcast way back in April 17. They argue that this letter might actually be written by someone else, but they think it's pretty much true to Sima Qian.   I don't understand what that means if The letter is written by someone else, but true to him, I don't, I don't know. That's a circle that I can't square, but that's fine. I just wanted to talk a little bit about that controversy. Is this letter by Sima Qian? We don't know. Does it matter? Probably not, because for two millennia, it's Chinese readers have been reading this letter and whether or not it was truly written by the real historical Sima Qian, it has become associated with the character of Sima Qian in the minds of so many Chinese readers.   Okay. Enough on the controversy. Let's dive in to the circumstances surrounding this letter. Renan was supposedly a friend of Sima Qian. Renan is involved in a rebellion in 91 BC called the Liuzhou Rebellion. Renan is facing execution because he supposedly did not. display sufficient loyalty to the emperor during this rebellion.   Ren An writes a letter to Sima Qian explaining what happened. Ren An doesn't think his execution is justifiable. Sima Qian replies to Ren An's letter. Sima Qian essentially tells Ren An to suck it up, deal with it. And then he, it is this long disquisition. By so much in explaining what happened to so much in himself and how he dealt with the prospect of almost being executed by the emperor and how in the end so much in lost his testicles though not his life.   Let's jump back in time a bit. So much in served Emperor Wu of the Han dynasty, Han Mu Di. Emperor Wu is very controversial. He institutes this new economic policy, something that we talked about in the last podcast. Emperor Wu also breaks with other traditions. So for about quite the past century, the Han dynasty largely kept the northern barbarians, that is the Xiongnu, in check.   And they had done this with a pretty simple diplomatic formula. They paid them and they married the, uh, Han Dynasty princesses off to the Xiongnu as a way to make sure the Xiongnu had skin in the game and knew that if they raided Han towns along the borderlands, they were going to get cut off from the stuff.   Essentially, the Han Dynasty was selling them goods and trying to get them addicted to the kinds of industrial goods that only a society like China could produce. And once they got used to these Industrial goods these luxuries they wouldn't attack the Han because they knew that they could get cut off and they constructed this whole sexual dependency as well They the Han Dynasty argued that Chinese women were more beautiful than these barbarian women And you can't get more beautiful Chinese women, unless you work with us, we'll send you Han dynasty princesses.   If you don't attack our villages and we'll cut you off. If you do attack our, our towns on the borderlands, Emperor Wu stops all that. He is very frequently warring with the Xiongnu, those Northern barbarians. Emperor Wu says. We ain't going to pay the Xiongnu any more money for peace, and we ain't going to give them any more princesses.   It's an incredibly expensive policy change. It's also something that Sima Qian promptly criticizes in his, uh, Xiongnu Liezhuan, the biography of the Xiongnu, where Sima Qian seems remarkably sympathetic to the Xiongnu's side, considering that his job, Sima Qian's job, is the archivist of Emperor Wu. Sima Qian goes out on a limb there and really expresses Uh, a lot of sympathy for the Xiongnu.   Emperor Wu and Sima Qian have these philosophical differences. Sima Qian does not like Emperor Wu's economic policy. Sima Qian does not like how Emperor Wu deals with the Xiongnu. There are other things that go on. Then this thing happens. During one of the wars with the Xiongnu, a guy named Li Ling. Goes and shoots his mouth off.   General Li Ling says he can destroy the Xiongnu with just a handful of troops. Initially, Emperor Wu is skeptical. He thinks General Li Ling is just talking trash, but Emperor Wu eventually gives General Li Ling his troops. General Li Ling marches on the Xiongnu. He meets the main body of the Xiongnu troops somewhere in the Altai mountains, in that region where modern Russia, Kazakhstan, Xinjiang, and Mongolia all come together.   General Li Ling is now regretting mouthing off. He's surrounded by a much larger group of Xiongnu troops. General Li Ling and his troops fight bravely. In this passage, I'm going to read, Li Ling's forces are surrounded. They're running out of supplies. An officer from Li Ling's army is insulted. He defects to the Xiongnu and tells The Xiongnu, that Li Ling's troops are running low on arrows, so of course the Xiongnu push it harder.   Li Ling's forces are in a bad way. The relief column did not come. The dead and wounded troops lay in piles. Nevertheless, Li Ling gave a shout to cheer up his army, and not a soldier failed to rise. He was crying, swallowing, tears running down his bloody face. Here is a translation. From here's my translation from the passage that I'm drawing from an entire country surrounded them for thousands of miles They had to turn and fight turn and fight their arrows exhausted the roads of escape Used up the backup soldiers.   They had requested had not arrived the dead and the wounded soldiers Piled up, but Li Ling shouted to his army, and every soldier rose. Li Ling personally shed tears, and with his face bleeding, he drank his own tears. They drew back their empty crossbows, risking everything before the bright swords.   Facing north, they fought. To the death with the enemy emperor Wu was incredibly pissed You've got to imagine general li ling had been running his mouth for all this time and he ends up surrendering emperor Wu was angry And then sima qian comes back into the story. Sima qian had kind of known li ling They hadn't had a beer together despite the fact that sima qian was not very close with li ling.   He still defends him He says li ling is a good guy. He says that li ling and I we lived in the palace together I knew li ling Even if we were never good friends. Sima Qian tries to argue that Li Ling was a brave man. Emperor Wu takes out his anger at Li Ling on Sima Qian. He orders that Sima Qian be executed.   But then, Emperor Wu rethinks what he has done. He grows a little bit less angry and he actually commutes Sima Qian's death. sentence. The punishment that he gives him is the lesser punishment of castration. Now, you got to understand, this is the Han Dynasty. In the Han Dynasty, no self respecting man would live castrated.   In the Han Dynasty, they thought that it was better to die than to be unmanned. So, when Emperor Wu commutes that punishment from execution to castration, He's not expecting Sima Qian to live on. Instead, he's giving him an out. Emperor Wu is allowing Sima Qian to commit suicide through means of his own choosing.   He can choose a less gruesome death than the kind that he would have faced if he was executed. But the expectation is still that this punishment will result in Sima Qian's death, even if it's by suicide rather than an out. execution. According to the letter to Renan, Sima Qian makes a strange decision.   Rather than commit suicide, he allows himself to be castrated. This is difficult to imagine. Why would he do this? He asks himself this question in the letter. How could he go on living without his manhood? To have lost your manhood To have lost your testicles in the Han Dynasty is to really not be a human.   That's how Sima Qian describes it. Sima Qian, in the letter to Renan, calls himself, quote, the leftovers of the knife and the saw. Here's what he says in another passage. I may be an old horse that has outlived its usefulness, but I always hearken to the influence from my seniors. When I consider how my body has been mutilated, how fault has been found in whatever I have done, and how my desire to be of good benefit has brought ruin to me.   Instead, my heart burst and I have no one to tell. In another passage, Sima Qian says, quote, there is no degradation worse than castration end quote. Then Sima Qian goes on to list examples of how people have been ashamed of having just been around castrados in the Chinese past. He mentions Duke Ling of Wei.   Duke Ling shares a carriage with a eunuch. How does Confucius. respond when Duke Ling does this. Confucius actually leaves the duke. He does not even want to be around this man who has ridden in a car with a castrato. He goes through all these examples and then he ends this list of people who have been shamed by being associated with castratos.   Sima Qian says this, when a man of even middling qualities has business to conduct with a unit, he always feels So, if castration is so horrible, why does Sima Qian accept that fate rather than just facing death? The reason Sima Qian says he does it is because fame is more important than anything else.   Quote, the end of all action is becoming famous. The end of all action is making one's name known. I'm talking about this passage with my students in a few weeks, and I wonder, in an age of TikTok and Instagram, how they are going to respond to this passage. For Sima Qian, the question of shame, of death, those things are less important than fame.   And the reason Sima Qian has to, has to stay alive, he says it's because he has to complete his father's work. He has to finish up this history that he is writing, the records of the historian. Interestingly, initially Sima Qian frames this in very filial terms, as a good Confucian. Initially, Sima Qian doesn't say, I did it because I wanted to finish that historical work that I was working on.   He does that later on. Here's the passage where he actually admits that the reason he's doing it is because he personally has this investment in this historical work. Quote, the reason I bore through it in silence and chose to live At any cost, the reason I did not refuse to be covered in muck was because I could not stand to leave something of personal importance to me unfinished, because I despised perishing without letting the glory of my writings be shown to posterity.   In the end, it comes out, I wanted to do it because this is my history, and this is the thing that will live on down the generation. In the end, Sima It is only the act of writing that can save him from a fate of insignificance. Quote, in the cases like Zuo Qiu Ming's sightlessness or Sun Zi's amputated feet, these men could never be employed.   They withdrew and put their deliberations into writing in order to give full expression to their outrage, intending to reveal themselves purely through writing that would last into the future. In the last podcast, I talked about how Sima Qian's writings function as a way to attack Emperor Wu and his economic policies.   This is where I was getting that from. Those of us who aren't kings, those of us who aren't emperors, all we can do when a ruler does something wrong and tosses us out, having us castrated or amputated for punishment, our only power left is the pen. Sima Qian sums it all up when he talks about death.   There are lots of people who are rich and famous in the past, Sima Qian says, but most of them have been forgotten. Quote, the number of rich and noble men in ancient times whose names have been utterly wiped away is beyond reckoning. The only ones who are known are the exceptional one. Those who are outside of the norm.   This is why Sima Qian decided to continue. This is why he decided to face the humiliating fate of being castrated. He says, Death comes for us all. Do not ask for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee. It is not the fact that we die that matters. It is the way that we handle death. death that matters most.   Here's what Sima Qian says, quote, Human beings truly have but one death. There are deaths that seem heavier than Mount Tai, but to some, death seems lighter than a piece of swan's down. The only Difference lies in what is done by die. It is only in the way that we die, that the meaning of our life works itself out.   Chen's life has meaning because he chose to live in humiliation and complete his master work, rather than do the easy and expected thing and simply commit suicide. Chen chose to face a more humiliating fate and put a dent in the universe that I think is one of the most. Amazing passages in all of Sima Qian's work if we really believe that this is by Sima Qian Which of course I already pointed out.   We don't we don't really know. Okay, y'all can see how incredible this piece is It's one of the greatest and most famous pieces of writing ever produced in China If you talk about this with a Chinese friend, they're gonna know about it They all had to read it in school. Today's Chengyu is To take history as a mirror or to look at oneself through history, to learn from history.   This is the dominant mode of history in China. History is understood in China, first and foremost, as a moral lesson. It's a means for understanding the present. In China, history is more literary than in the contemporary Western world. In the West, we think of history and we expect it to be what happened.   In the past, we expect it to be objective. We don't always expect it to have a moral message. Though, of course, history frequently does have a moral message in the West. For most modern Westerners, post Renaissance, history is about what happened in the West. In the past, but in China, there is still an expectation that history is ideological, that it has a moral point that it is trying to impart to the reader to take history as a mirror.   This is a very famous Cheng Yu. It's originally written in the book of documents, the Shang Shu, but it's used throughout Chinese history. Now, before we go, I have a big announcement to make on the podcast. Previously mentioned that I was working on publishing a book. It is happening. I'm proud to announce that I am going to be the first author getting to be published by this awesome new publisher unsung voices books run by amy rath and don russo The two of them have a combined five decades in the publishing industry and they chose me as their first book Don has been a listener to the podcast for a while.   The book itself is tentatively titled China's backstory, the literature and history behind today's front page, China news. The book tries to explain the literature and history behind for China related topics that are being discussed in the American media today, Xinjiang, Hong Kong, Taiwan, and the Chinese economy.   These are all incredibly sensitive topics. This is the kind of book that couldn't get me castrated by Xi Jinping. All of these topics will make the authorities in Beijing want to reach for the knife and the saw in the book. I'm going to explain how those news stories came to be. News stories, taking the reader.   To the stories behind the news story, weaving literature and history into a narrative that helps people understand the background behind these topics, the things that are rarely reported on the history, the literature behind the story. What I ask of you. If you're willing, dear podcast listener, I have posted the URL for the book's preorder page on the website.   I would be very appreciative if you would go and show your love for me, the podcast, and the work I do, if you just go there and sign up for the preorder. So to preorder, you're not actually preordering in the sense that There is no credit card information required. You don't have to pay anything in order to pre order.   All you have to do is give Unsung Voices Books your email address. What you're really doing when you pre order is you're signing up to be updated about my book as it gets closer and closer to being published, which I think will probably be in 2025. Unsung Voices Books Is asking me to turn in the manuscript August 31st.   So I have been beavering away at the book. Some of y'all probably realized that something was up because I have been even slower than normal in replying to emails. If you are willing to support me, go to Chinese literature, podcast. com. Find the page that says, Pre order my book, put in your email address and then go tell your family, tell your friends, even tell your enemies, spread the word that this book is happening.   Okay. That's it for me. You're going to hear me in later episodes talking about the book. Again, I'll keep you all updated on the status of the book as well. I really appreciate it. If you can go and pre order the book until the next episode, I'm Lee Moore, and this is the Chinese literature podcast.

Hello Foreign Exchanges listeners, and welcome back to another of our irregular podcast series! I'm privileged to be joined this time out by by Kenneth Harl, Professor Emeritus of History at Tulane University, to talk about his book, Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization. It is a sweeping study of nomads across Eurasia and throughout history (and pre-history), from the earliest evidence of the Yamnaya culture on the Pontic–Caspian steppe to the Xiongnu in China, the Huns in Europe, the Turks in Central Asia and the Middle East, and the Mongols…everywhere. We talk about Professor Harl's career, how he approached such an expansive subject, and get into some of the book itself. Enjoy!Please pick up Professor Harl's book, available in hardcover now or you can preorder the paperback. If you're a fan of history courses you can also check out Professor Harl's many great series for The Teaching Company. And if you haven't checked out Foreign Exchanges please do that too! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit www.foreignexchanges.news/subscribe

Empires are one of the most common forms of political structure in history—yet no empire is alike. We have our “standard” view of empire: perhaps the Romans, or the China of the Qin and Han Dynasties—vast polities that cover numerous different people, knit together by strong institutions from a political center. But where do, say, the empires of the steppe, like the Xiongnu or the Mongols, fit into our understanding of empire? Or the Portuguese empire, which got its start as an array of ports and forts in South and Southeast Asia? Or the Manchus, who waltzed into a collapsing Ming China and rapidly re-established its governing structures–with themselves at the head? These are just a handful of what Thomas Barfield calls exogenous, or “shadow” empires, which grow on the frontiers of larger, wealth-growing polities, in his most recent book Shadow Empires: An Alternative Imperial History (Princeton University Press, 2023). Shadow empires cannot exist without their hosts, extracting wealth from them—and yet, the most successful of them grow to become wealth creators in their own right, becoming what Barfield terms “endogenous empires.” In this interview, Thomas and I talk about empires—both the commonly-accepted kind and their shadow variants—and how we can differentiate between the many different kinds of empire throughout history. Thomas Barfield is professor of anthropology at Boston University. His books include Afghanistan: A Cultural and Political History (Princeton University Press: 2010) and The Perilous Frontier: Nomadic Empires and China, 221 BC to AD 1757 (Wiley-Blackwell: 1992). You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of Shadow Empires. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at @nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

Empires are one of the most common forms of political structure in history—yet no empire is alike. We have our “standard” view of empire: perhaps the Romans, or the China of the Qin and Han Dynasties—vast polities that cover numerous different people, knit together by strong institutions from a political center. But where do, say, the empires of the steppe, like the Xiongnu or the Mongols, fit into our understanding of empire? Or the Portuguese empire, which got its start as an array of ports and forts in South and Southeast Asia? Or the Manchus, who waltzed into a collapsing Ming China and rapidly re-established its governing structures–with themselves at the head? These are just a handful of what Thomas Barfield calls exogenous, or “shadow” empires, which grow on the frontiers of larger, wealth-growing polities, in his most recent book Shadow Empires: An Alternative Imperial History (Princeton University Press, 2023). Shadow empires cannot exist without their hosts, extracting wealth from them—and yet, the most successful of them grow to become wealth creators in their own right, becoming what Barfield terms “endogenous empires.” In this interview, Thomas and I talk about empires—both the commonly-accepted kind and their shadow variants—and how we can differentiate between the many different kinds of empire throughout history. Thomas Barfield is professor of anthropology at Boston University. His books include Afghanistan: A Cultural and Political History (Princeton University Press: 2010) and The Perilous Frontier: Nomadic Empires and China, 221 BC to AD 1757 (Wiley-Blackwell: 1992). You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of Shadow Empires. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at @nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

Empires are one of the most common forms of political structure in history—yet no empire is alike. We have our “standard” view of empire: perhaps the Romans, or the China of the Qin and Han Dynasties—vast polities that cover numerous different people, knit together by strong institutions from a political center. But where do, say, the empires of the steppe, like the Xiongnu or the Mongols, fit into our understanding of empire? Or the Portuguese empire, which got its start as an array of ports and forts in South and Southeast Asia? Or the Manchus, who waltzed into a collapsing Ming China and rapidly re-established its governing structures–with themselves at the head? These are just a handful of what Thomas Barfield calls exogenous, or “shadow” empires, which grow on the frontiers of larger, wealth-growing polities, in his most recent book Shadow Empires: An Alternative Imperial History (Princeton University Press, 2023). Shadow empires cannot exist without their hosts, extracting wealth from them—and yet, the most successful of them grow to become wealth creators in their own right, becoming what Barfield terms “endogenous empires.” In this interview, Thomas and I talk about empires—both the commonly-accepted kind and their shadow variants—and how we can differentiate between the many different kinds of empire throughout history. Thomas Barfield is professor of anthropology at Boston University. His books include Afghanistan: A Cultural and Political History (Princeton University Press: 2010) and The Perilous Frontier: Nomadic Empires and China, 221 BC to AD 1757 (Wiley-Blackwell: 1992). You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of Shadow Empires. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at @nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/political-science

Empires are one of the most common forms of political structure in history—yet no empire is alike. We have our “standard” view of empire: perhaps the Romans, or the China of the Qin and Han Dynasties—vast polities that cover numerous different people, knit together by strong institutions from a political center. But where do, say, the empires of the steppe, like the Xiongnu or the Mongols, fit into our understanding of empire? Or the Portuguese empire, which got its start as an array of ports and forts in South and Southeast Asia? Or the Manchus, who waltzed into a collapsing Ming China and rapidly re-established its governing structures–with themselves at the head? These are just a handful of what Thomas Barfield calls exogenous, or “shadow” empires, which grow on the frontiers of larger, wealth-growing polities, in his most recent book Shadow Empires: An Alternative Imperial History (Princeton University Press, 2023). Shadow empires cannot exist without their hosts, extracting wealth from them—and yet, the most successful of them grow to become wealth creators in their own right, becoming what Barfield terms “endogenous empires.” In this interview, Thomas and I talk about empires—both the commonly-accepted kind and their shadow variants—and how we can differentiate between the many different kinds of empire throughout history. Thomas Barfield is professor of anthropology at Boston University. His books include Afghanistan: A Cultural and Political History (Princeton University Press: 2010) and The Perilous Frontier: Nomadic Empires and China, 221 BC to AD 1757 (Wiley-Blackwell: 1992). You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of Shadow Empires. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at @nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/world-affairs

Empires are one of the most common forms of political structure in history—yet no empire is alike. We have our “standard” view of empire: perhaps the Romans, or the China of the Qin and Han Dynasties—vast polities that cover numerous different people, knit together by strong institutions from a political center. But where do, say, the empires of the steppe, like the Xiongnu or the Mongols, fit into our understanding of empire? Or the Portuguese empire, which got its start as an array of ports and forts in South and Southeast Asia? Or the Manchus, who waltzed into a collapsing Ming China and rapidly re-established its governing structures–with themselves at the head? These are just a handful of what Thomas Barfield calls exogenous, or “shadow” empires, which grow on the frontiers of larger, wealth-growing polities, in his most recent book Shadow Empires: An Alternative Imperial History (Princeton University Press, 2023). Shadow empires cannot exist without their hosts, extracting wealth from them—and yet, the most successful of them grow to become wealth creators in their own right, becoming what Barfield terms “endogenous empires.” In this interview, Thomas and I talk about empires—both the commonly-accepted kind and their shadow variants—and how we can differentiate between the many different kinds of empire throughout history. Thomas Barfield is professor of anthropology at Boston University. His books include Afghanistan: A Cultural and Political History (Princeton University Press: 2010) and The Perilous Frontier: Nomadic Empires and China, 221 BC to AD 1757 (Wiley-Blackwell: 1992). You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of Shadow Empires. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at @nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/sociology

Empires are one of the most common forms of political structure in history—yet no empire is alike. We have our “standard” view of empire: perhaps the Romans, or the China of the Qin and Han Dynasties—vast polities that cover numerous different people, knit together by strong institutions from a political center. But where do, say, the empires of the steppe, like the Xiongnu or the Mongols, fit into our understanding of empire? Or the Portuguese empire, which got its start as an array of ports and forts in South and Southeast Asia? Or the Manchus, who waltzed into a collapsing Ming China and rapidly re-established its governing structures–with themselves at the head? These are just a handful of what Thomas Barfield calls exogenous, or “shadow” empires, which grow on the frontiers of larger, wealth-growing polities, in his most recent book Shadow Empires: An Alternative Imperial History (Princeton University Press, 2023). Shadow empires cannot exist without their hosts, extracting wealth from them—and yet, the most successful of them grow to become wealth creators in their own right, becoming what Barfield terms “endogenous empires.” In this interview, Thomas and I talk about empires—both the commonly-accepted kind and their shadow variants—and how we can differentiate between the many different kinds of empire throughout history. Thomas Barfield is professor of anthropology at Boston University. His books include Afghanistan: A Cultural and Political History (Princeton University Press: 2010) and The Perilous Frontier: Nomadic Empires and China, 221 BC to AD 1757 (Wiley-Blackwell: 1992). You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of Shadow Empires. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at @nickrigordon.

Empires are one of the most common forms of political structure in history—yet no empire is alike. We have our “standard” view of empire: perhaps the Romans, or the China of the Qin and Han Dynasties—vast polities that cover numerous different people, knit together by strong institutions from a political center. But where do, say, the empires of the steppe, like the Xiongnu or the Mongols, fit into our understanding of empire? Or the Portuguese empire, which got its start as an array of ports and forts in South and Southeast Asia? Or the Manchus, who waltzed into a collapsing Ming China and rapidly re-established its governing structures–with themselves at the head? These are just a handful of what Thomas Barfield calls exogenous, or “shadow” empires, which grow on the frontiers of larger, wealth-growing polities, in his most recent book Shadow Empires: An Alternative Imperial History (Princeton University Press, 2023). Shadow empires cannot exist without their hosts, extracting wealth from them—and yet, the most successful of them grow to become wealth creators in their own right, becoming what Barfield terms “endogenous empires.” In this interview, Thomas and I talk about empires—both the commonly-accepted kind and their shadow variants—and how we can differentiate between the many different kinds of empire throughout history. Thomas Barfield is professor of anthropology at Boston University. His books include Afghanistan: A Cultural and Political History (Princeton University Press: 2010) and The Perilous Frontier: Nomadic Empires and China, 221 BC to AD 1757 (Wiley-Blackwell: 1992). You can find more reviews, excerpts, interviews, and essays at The Asian Review of Books, including its review of Shadow Empires. Follow on Twitter at @BookReviewsAsia. Nicholas Gordon is an editor for a global magazine, and a reviewer for the Asian Review of Books. He can be found on Twitter at @nickrigordon. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/asian-review

From the Huns, Mongols and Magyars to the Turks, Xiongnu, Scythians and Goths, these nomadic people of the Eurasian steppes built long-lasting empires, facilitated global trade via the Silk Road and widely disseminated religion, technology, knowledge and goods. Speaking to Emily Briffett, Kenneth Harl details how these nomads profoundly shaped the course of history. (Ad) Kenneth Harl is the author of Empires of the Steppes: The Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilisation (Bloomsbury, 2023). Buy it now from Amazon: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Empires-Steppes-Nomadic-Tribes-Civilization/dp/1526630400/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1699632260&sr=1-1&tag=bbchistory045-21&ascsubtag=historyextra-social-histboty The HistoryExtra podcast is produced by the team behind BBC History Magazine. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/east-asian-studies

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/military-history

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/central-asian-studies

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/middle-eastern-studies

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/world-affairs

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/russian-studies

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/chinese-studies

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

The “barbarian” nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. Their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples—the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths—all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world.  Professor Kenneth W. Harl's newest book Empires of the Steppes: A History of the Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization (Bloomsbury, 2023) vividly re-creates the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbors. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/eastern-european-studies

In this episode of the Versus History Podcast, we interview Historian Kenneth W. Harl, author of the brand new book Empires of the Steppes: The Nomadic Tribes Who Shaped Civilization. This book is an epic and enthralling narrative history of how Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and the so-called 'barbarians of the steppes' shaped the modern world. The barbarian nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their achievements have gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. And, as Kenneth Harl illustrates in this glorious work of narrative history, their deeds still resonate today. Indeed, these nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples – the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths – all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world. Professor Kenneth Harl draws on a lifetime of scholarship to vividly recreate the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age. Their brutal struggle to survive on the steppes bred a resilient, pragmatic people ever ready to learn from their more advanced neighbours. In warfare, they dominated the battlefield for over fifteen hundred years. Under charismatic rulers, they could topple empires and win their own.For terms of use, please visit www.versushistory.comFor the Guardian review, please click here.For the book, please click here.For Kenneth's professional profile, please click here.

The barbarian nomads of the Eurasian steppes have played a decisive role in world history, but their impact has gone largely unnoticed. These nomadic tribes have produced some of the world's greatest conquerors: Attila the Hun, Genghis Khan and Tamerlane, among others. And their deeds still resonate today.These nomads built long-lasting empires, facilitated the first global trade of the Silk Road and disseminated religions, technology, knowledge and goods of every description that enriched and changed the lives of so many across Europe, China and the Middle East. From a single region emerged a great many peoples – the Huns, the Mongols, the Magyars, the Turks, the Xiongnu, the Scythians, the Goths – all of whom went on to profoundly and irrevocably shape the modern world. But their legacy is also death. An estimated 100 million died in the Mongol conquests, include 90 percent of Iran's population, which only recovered in the 20th century.To discuss these legacies is Kenneth Harl, author of “Empires of the Steppes.” He draws on a lifetime of scholarship to vividly recreate the lives and world of these often-forgotten peoples from their beginnings to the early modern age.This show is part of the Spreaker Prime Network, if you are interested in advertising on this podcast, contact us at https://www.spreaker.com/show/3101278/advertisement

This episode we look at the transmission of Buddhism through the 1st to 5th centuries from India, to the Kushan Empire, and across the Silk Road to the Han and succeeding dynasties, and even to Baekje, on the Korean peninsula. For more, especially photos, please check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-84   Rough Transcript:   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 84: The Middle Way through the Middle Kingdom. First things first, thank you to Bodil, Gabe, and Lauren for donating to support the show on Ko-Fi and Patreon.  If you'd like to join them, will have information at the end of the episode. Also an apology—if my voice isn't in tip-top shape, well, it seems that COVID finally found us after 3 years or so, and I'm on the tail end of it.  So thank you for your understanding. Last episode we talked about Siddhartha Gautama, aka Shakyamuni, the Historical Buddha, and his teachings, and how they spread, at least through the Indian subcontinent, with the patronage of rulers like Ashoka the Great.  The original teachings, initially taught as an oral tradition, was eventually turned into a series of writings, called the Tripitaka. As for how those writings came about, it's worth talking about the languages involved. The native language of Shakyamuni was probably a language known as Maghadi, or something similar.  But the Indian subcontinent, including the modern countries of India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Bhutan, Nepal, and Afghanistan, is over three times the size of western Europe.  There are at eight south Asian language families, with hundreds of different languages, depending on how you count them.  The modern state of India counts 22 official languages, not including English.  I mention this to point out that as the Buddha's disciples spread his teachings, they were, by necessity, translating it into different languages. There is a story that a student suggested to the Buddha that they make Sanskrit the official language of Buddhism.  Even then, Sanskrit was considered a language of learning and education, much as Greek or Latin was in medieval Europe, but the Buddha rejected this and insisted that his teachings be taught in people's own tongue.  This proved great for reaching people, but over time there was a fear that the oral teachings might be lost, and so they were written down. The oldest written Buddhist canon is generally agreed to be texts in Pali, commissioned in Sri Lanka.  These are sometimes called the southern Tripitaka—or Tipitaka in Pali—and it is the primary canon for Theravada Buddhists.  In the north, however, Sanskrit remained the prominent language of learning, and texts written down and transmitted in the north—particularly those that made it to China and on to Japan—were typically Sanskrit or translations of Sanskrit texts.  This is what some refer to as the Northern Tripitaka.  Both of these were transcriptions of the oral teachings that Buddhist monks were otherwise memorizing and presenting to the Buddhist community.  That oral tradition, in fact, never really went away, and these early texts were more like a reference so that monks could check their memory.  Chanting the sutras—and especially chanting from memory—remained a highly prized skill of Buddhist orators. Now, the split between northern and southern texts is convenient, but it isn't necessarily as simple as all that.  We have plenty of examples of texts, particularly in the northern traditions, that don't necessarily have an extant Sanskrit counterpart.  In fact, the oldest extant sutras of any tradition that we have today are known as the Gandharan sutras, and written in the Ghandari language using a Karosthi script.  Gandhara refers to a region centered north and west of the Indus river, in modern Pakistan, stretching to the Kabul river valley in modern Afghanistan and north to the Karakoram mountains, which is one of the interlocking ranges that form the boundary between modern Pakistan and India and modern China and the Tibetan plateau.  It is believed to be the namesake of the city of Kandahar, in modern Afghanistan. This area was important, and not just to Buddhism.  For thousands of years it has been a crossroads between the Indian subcontinent, the area known as the Middle East, and the inner trade routes of central Eurasia.  It was part of the conquest by Alexander the Great in the 4th century BCE, becoming part of his kingdom, but then it was lost in battle to the Mauryan empire, which Ashoka the Great ruled in the 3rd century BCE.  The area later fell to Indo-Greek rule from members of the Greco-Bactrian kingdom to the north.  The most famous ruler during this period was probably Menander I, who is also remembered as a patron of Buddhism, building more stupas and monasteries in the region. The Hellenic Greco-Bactrians were eventually displaced by tribes of the Yuezhi, who themselves were being displaced by the Xiongnu, in central Eurasia.  In this epic game of musical chairs, a branch of the Yuezhi eventually settled in the area, ruling a large territory, including Gandhara, under what is known as the Kushan empire.  They had first moved into the area of Bactria and Sogdiana probably around the 1st or 2nd century BCE, and by the 1st century CE they were exerting authority over Gandhara.   Around the time the Gandharan sutras were written down, in the 1st or 2nd centuries, Buddhism—especially Mahayana Buddhism—was flourishing in the region, and Kanishka the Great—don't you love how all of these rulers are known as “the Great”, by the way?—ruled the Kushan empire, and hence Gandhara, in the early 2nd century.  He is said to have been a great patron of Buddhism, although it was one of several religions, including Zoroastrianism, that flourished in the region at this time. The Kushan empire is believed to be the same Yuezhi that we mentioned in episode 79, when we talked about the Han diplomat Zhang Qian, who had trekked through hostile Xiongnu, or Hunna, territory across much of what is now western China in the 2nd century BCE, seeking allies against the Hunna.  At that point, the Yuezhi had had enough of war, however, and they declined to fight, preferring to settle where they were and eventually growing into the Kushan empire.  That connection with the Han dynasty, however, likely was maintained through trade routes that continued to operate across the vast expanse of central Eurasia.  The Han dynasty itself continued to send out diplomatic missions to the various states of central Eurasia, and of course there were trade routes. As the Kushan empire expanded into the Tarim basin, it met once again with the Han, who had defeated the Hunna, and then claimed routes across the oasis towns of the desert regions.  While the routes would have high and low periods, often depending on the state of various conflicts, in general it seems that Buddhist missionaries probably made it to the Han dynasty and the Yellow River region, and founded monasteries, as early as the first century CE and certainly by the second century.  And, by our best understanding, the folks in these monasteries were already doing a lot of copying and translation of texts – both as a meritorious act, and to spread the word.  Since this is around the time the Gandharan texts were written, they were likely a part of this larger tradition of copying and translating that was going on, although many of those early documents did not survive intact to the modern day. One of the earliest records of Buddhism in the Han dynasty is a record dated to 65 CE.  Liu Ying, Prince of Chu and son of Emperor Guangwu of Han, sponsored Buddhism—as well as a school of Daoism—in attempts to better understand longevity and immortality.  While he was eventually accused of treason, putting something of a damper on his patronage of the religion, it is the first mention we have in the histories of Buddhism, and in some ways it speaks to something else about the initial acceptance of Buddhism. While there were likely those well-versed in Buddhism, particularly in the community of foreigners from the Western Regions, evidence suggests that for many lay people it was just as likely about what people thought that the religion could do for them in this life as anything else.  After all, there are many stories of miraculous events, and there was the concept of reincarnation and karma—the idea that by building merit, one could improve their lot in the next life.  There was even a belief that by building merit, one could improve their lot in the current life—and apparently extend their life or even, possibly, gain immortality. Sure, there were the more intellectual and philosophical endeavors, but for many people Buddhism was just as much about what it could do for them in the here and now.  Stories of monks and other holy men fit in right alongside stories of Daoist immortals.  In Han tombs, where Buddhist imagery is found, it is often found with or in place of the Queen Mother of the West—the same image that is found on many of the bronze mirrors that traveled across to the Japanese archipelago around this time.  It was likely that many of the early stories that the laypeople heard were probably fragments as much as anything.  Even with the Tripitaka written down, much of the transmission was still done orally.  Furthermore, it was in translation—and probably a translation of a translation. The earliest stories of Buddhism's transmission—particularly the translation of texts into Sinitic characters, the lingua franca of East Asia—claim that first the Theravada canon, and then later Mahayana texts, were translated in the second century, with foreigners from Parthia and Kushan credited with the early translations.  Others would continue the work, and at first it was mostly people from the Western Regions doing the translating. One of the earliest stories of sutras making their way to the Han dynasty comes from the time of Liu Ying, when his brother, Emperor Ming, sat on the throne.  The stories claim that the emperor saw an image of a golden Buddha, and that he requested either a statue or temple be erected.  So he sent people off to Kushan, where they found two monks who would come back with them in 68 CE, bringing portraits and scripture—specifically the “Sutra of Forty-Two Chapters”, which the two monks helped translate into a Sinitic version at Baimasi, or White Horse Temple.  As such, this “Sutra of Forty-Two Chapters” has been accorded a status as the first such Buddhist work to be brought to the area that is, today, modern China, and the White Horse Temple, located in Luoyang, is counted as one of the earliest temples in the Yellow River region.  That said, there are a lot of questions as to the authenticity of this tale, though it does mirror others about the arrival of Buddhism in the East, even if we cannot verify the actual first temple or work. Although Buddhism arrived during the Han dynasty, it wouldn't really begin to fully develop until after the dynasty's fall in the 3rd century.  During the Southern and Northern Dynasties period, the metaphysical and doctrinal beliefs of Buddhism began to penetrate the elite circles in a more tangible way.  Much of the philosophical underpinnings blended well with the interest at the time in “Dark Studies” and the school of “Pure Conversation”, which we discussed back in episode 72.  While Buddhist temples, much like their Daoist brethren, found some sanctuary from the chaos that created this period in the mountains and hills—not to mention a bit of added spiritual cachet—it was really the opportunity to gain greater state patronage that also helped. Monks like Zhi Dun began to reconcile Buddhist thought and doctrine with local beliefs.  In some cases, local religious figures—including gods and other spirits—were incorporated into the Buddhist framework, often by their “conversion” to the Buddha's teachings.  This was one of the strengths of Buddhism—although it carried with it a framework of Indian religious teachings and thoughts, it was not exclusive in its cosmological outlook.  Buddhism was more focused on helping one escape the suffering of this world, which would take you beyond all such things.  As the doctrines were meant for all beings—not just humans, but for animals, spirits, gods, and even demons—there was nothing to necessarily exclude other beliefs.  This helped some of the ethnic Han dynasties to accept and even promote Buddhism.  Meanwhile, some of the non-ethnic Han dynasties patronized Buddhism for either its miraculous powers or just because it was a foreign religion, much like they were foreigners in the Yellow River Basin.  In many cases, state-sponsorship was a two way street.  Dynasts would set themselves up as holy men, claiming to be Boddhisatvas.  They would even appropriate the concept of the Cakravartin, a Buddhist “Golden-Wheel-Turning-King”, which had overtones of cosmic overlordship.  I can see how that would fit in quite well with local concepts that a sovereign might lay claim to ruling “all under heaven” and be carrying out a “Heavenly mandate”. Along the Yangzi River, Buddhist monks gained a certain amount of independence.  They were not expected to bow to the sovereign, for example; an acknowledgment of their holy nature.  In the northern Wei dynasty, however, it was a different story.  There, the ruler was said to be no less than an incarnation of the Buddha, and a Chief Monk was selected to oversee the Sangha and no doubt ensure that the various Buddhist communities were in line with official dogma. At the same time, the government provided captured men and women to work fields to help pay for Buddhist temples and their work.  Likewise, people would make merit by donating wealth and land to temples, in hopes of blessings either in this current life or in the next life.  For their part, the temples were expected to act as storehouses or granaries—the wealth that poured into them would be used to help alleviate suffering, especially in the case of droughts or floods.  It soon became clear, however, that more wealth was going into the temples than was necessarily coming out.  There were attempts to reign in this Buddhist establishment, often by limiting the number of temples or even the number of monks, as well as limiting what people could donate.  These same edicts were undercut by the elites of the country, however, and often proved less than effectual. Along with sutras and Buddhist teachings, Buddhist images and architecture spread widely.  In India and the Western Regions, a key aspect of many temples was the stupa.  This was a mound containing a relic of some sort.  Originally these relics were said to be remnants of the Buddha, after he had been cremated.  Later, it was said that the remnants of the Buddha turned hard, like crystal, and that the original remains were gathered up and distributed to even more stupas.  Later they may contain other relics, as well. The stupa was an important part of the Buddhist temple, but over time, its character changed.  Instead of a mound like we still see in Southeast Asia, we start to see a building—a tower—which became a ubiquitous symbol of Buddhist temples in East Asia.  This multi-level pagoda originally started off with simply three levels, often made of brick and stone, but over time it grew with five or seven levels.  These towers were inspired by a description in the Lotus Sutra, a Mahayana text, that described a bejeweled seven-storey tower. Speaking of the Lotus Sutra, this was one of the many teachings that made its way to East Asia, and a hugely influential one.  It purports to tell the story of a sermon by the Buddha outside of those mentioned in the Theravada texts.  The teachings expounded upon in the Lotus Sutra had a great impact on Mahayana Buddhism and how people viewed the teachings of the Buddha.  For one, it also proposed the idea that the Buddha did not actually cease to exist when he attained nirvana, but is simply no longer visible. He still remains in the world to help all life find salvation from suffering.  That goes along with the concept of the Bodhisattva, a being who attains a Buddha-like understanding but out of compassion remains in the world to assist others. The Lotus Sutra also made claims such as the idea that anyone could attain Buddhahood, if they followed the teachings—and not just one particular set of teachings.  It opened the idea that there were multiple vehicles—that is to say different practices—that would all get you to the truth, to Englightenment.  Even the term “Mahayana” means the “Great Vehicle”, while Mahayana sees Theravada as “Hinayana”, the “Lesser Vehicle”.  Both will get you where you need to be, but Mahayana offers an exapansion of teachings and texts that Theravada Buddhism does not necessarily accept as authentic.  Indeed in Mahayana belief we also see a focus on multiple Buddhas with different specialties – not only the historical Buddha, but Vairocana, aka Dainichi Nyorai, the Great Solar Buddha, Amitabha, aka Amida Nyorai or Amida Butsu, and so on. In comparison, the Theravada school tend to be more dogmatic on various points of practice and belief, claiming that they focus on the actual teachings of the Historical Buddha and not necessarily looking for extra texts and practices.  There may have been Buddhas in previous ages that attained nirvana and departed this existence, but the Buddha of the current age is the historical Buddha, Shakyamuni.  Another Buddha, Maitreya, is not expected for another five to ten thousand years—not until the teachings of the Buddha have been forgotten and are once again required.  Acquiring freedom from this existence through nirvana is not necessarily one and the same with obtaining Buddhahood—the enlightened understanding required to save all beings. There is another school, “Vajrayana”, the “Lightning” or “Diamond” vehicle.  It focuses on tantric, or esoteric teachings, which practitioners believe provide a more direct, and faster method to enlightenment.  Many secret teachings, or mikkyo in Japanese, can trace themselves in some way to these practices, though it likely didn't make it to East Asia until the Tang dynasty or so in the 8th century, so we'll come back to it when we get to things like Kuukai and Saichou, who brought Shingon and Tendai, respectively, to Japan in the early 9th century—about four centuries from our current chronological position.  Both the Mahayana and Vajrayana schools included the teachings from the Lotus Sutra, which would become one of the most important sutras, certainly by the Tang dynasty, as well as in the Korean Peninsula and the Japanese archipelago.  Its widespread dissemination is often attributed to the famous monk Kumarajiva.  Kumarajiva was a citizen of Kucha, one of the oasis towns along the northern edge of the Tarim Basin, and site of a bustling metropolis and capital of one of the largest oasis kingdoms in the Tarim basin.  Even today, you can see remnants of the ancient city in the desert, and the dry conditions have preserved a number of artifacts, including plenty of texts referencing Buddhist and other beliefs. Kumarajiva traveled from the peripheral city of Dunhuang, another site renowned for its Buddhist roots, especially the famous Mogao caves—a series of Buddhist grottoes built into a cliff face which, along with the dry conditions, have exquisitely preserved the early sculpture and painting, as well as, again, numerous documents.  He came to Chang'an around 401, and he helped translated numerous Buddhist scriptures into Sinitic characters, which could then be shared and read by people across East Asia—everywhere in the ancient Sinic sphere of influence. Besides the Lotus Sutra, another famous text told of the Buddha Amithabha, aka Amida Butsu in Japan.  Amithabha's teachings claimed that any who would call on the name of Amithabha, or just picture them in their mind with a sincere heart, would, on their death, find themselves reborn in a Western Paradise—a “Pure Land” where there were no distractions other than to meditate on the Buddha's teachings and eventually attain freedom from this existence.  Whereas many of the teachings and theological discussions of the various Buddhist schools could get quite complex—thus almost requiring any serious student to join a monastery if they wanted to truly study a particular flavor—the teachings of Amithabha were appealing to those without necessarily a lot of time or resources.  It boiled down to a few practices that just about anyone could do.  It didn't require that you donate huge sums of money or land, or that you spend all your day copying scriptures.  One could chant the name of Amithabha in the fields as you were working, or picture them in your mind as you prepared for bed. These kinds of practices—the chanting of particular mantras or other such things—became a kind of thing people could do to help protect themselves or ward off evil.  A particular example of this practice is preserved in a text from Dunhuang, which has a colophon explaining its purpose.  According to Patricia Ebrey's translation, the text, which was copied by someone named Sun Sizhong, was an incantation that, if said 7, 14, or 21 times a day, with various somatic and material components (willow twig to cleanse the mouth, scattering flowers and incense before the image of the Buddha, and kneeling and joining the palms of the hands) it would clear away the four grave sins, the five wicked acts, and other transgressions.  “The current body would not be afflicted by “untimely” calamities, and one will be reborn into the realm of immeasurably long life.  Plus, reincarnation in the female form would be escaped forever.” On that last piece—yeah, Buddhism came with a little bit of baggage.  In ordering all of life, men were seen as inherently higher on the ladder than women.  This discrimination has been walked back or even abolished in some modern interpretations, but it was definitely present in older beliefs. Besides the power of the incantation if said 7, 13, or 21 times a day, Sun Sizhong went on to explain that if someone recited it 100 times in the evening and then at noon and it will ensure rebirth in the “Western Regions”, while 200,000 recitations gets you perfect intelligence, and 300,000 recitations, one will see Amitabha Buddha face to face and be reborn in the Pure Land. As you can probably start to see, there were many different beliefs and teachings that fell under the Mahayana teachings, and many of the texts were translations.  Even those that had been translated into Sinitic, it was often done by foreigners for whom the local Sinic language was not their native tongue, so there was always a kind of awareness that important pieces might have been lost in translation along the way.  In the 5th century, this led some monks to make the particularly long and dangerous journey all the way to Kushan and on to India, to access the original primary sources for themselves.  One of these was a monk by the name of Faxian. At the age of 62, Faxian decided to go to India to try to get to the heart of what the Buddha really taught.  He set out in 399, traveled across the Tarim Basin and into the Kashmir region and the Indus Valley—Gandhara, in modern Pakistan.  From there he traveled to central India and arrived at Patna, where he stayed and studied for three years.  He traveled around, seeking out works in Sanskrit on Buddhsit ethics and teachings, studying the local languages as well.  In 410 he made his way to the mouth of the Ganges and down to Sri Lanka, where he stayed for almost two years before boarding a ship and traveling home—traveling through the straits of Malacca and around Southeast Asia to take the sea route back to his home. The journey was perilous, and at least twice the boat lost its way.  According to the stories, some of his fellow travelers, who followed more Brahmanic teachings rather than Buddhist, believed that Faxian and his quote-unquote “heretical” teachings were what were leading them astray.  Faxian was able to maintain order and he and his books eventually made it safely to the Shandong peninsula in or around 412. He made his way down to Jiankang, aka modern Nanjing on the Yangzi river.  There he spent the rest of his life translating the scriptures he had brought back.  Others would make similar journeys, all to try to find more authentic versions of the texts—which usually meant finding the Sanskrit version—and then creating translations from those. With the growth in popularity in Buddhism, it is probably little wonder that it eventually made its way over to the Korean peninsula.  It is hard to say exactly when Buddhism arrived, but the Baekje annals in the Samguk Sagi claim that it was brought there by a monk of Central Asia descent in about 384.  One year later, we are told the king of Baekje erected a temple and caused ten men to become monks. The timing of this generally accords with some of the information in the Nihon Shoki, which claims that Buddhism first came from the Western Regions to the Han dynasty, and then to Baekje 300 years later, and then to Yamato about 100 years after that.  While the dates aren't exact, this generally accords with what we know of the way that Buddhism traveled to East Asia and to Baekje, at least. Although we have textual evidence, there isn't much archaeological evidence for Buddhism on the Korean peninsula in this time outside of urban centers.   That is where we find temple rooftiles and other indications that Buddhism was practiced, but at the time it was probably something more common amongst elites than the common people, at least in the 4th and early 5th centuries.  With the invasions by Goguryeo  and the loss of northern territory in about 475, it did gain increased patronage.  Still, it wasn't until the 6th century that it really left the urban centers, which is roughly the time we are talking about with the Yamato sovereign Ame Kunioshi, aka Kimmei Tennou. Next episode we'll get into just how Buddhism came over to the islands—or at least what is recorded and what we have evidence for—in the sixth century.  We'll also talk about its reception and its patronage by the famous Soga clan.  Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support.  If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.