Lessons of History, or the unlikely trio of teachers...

Introduction page from Yan's Chingizkhan

September rolled in and I am back in school. I was tired long before I stepped into class on my first day. I am taking the only class I can afford, Introduction to History-a course necessary for every student of the discipline. By next week, I will have to answer such questions as "is history science or art?" or my most dreaded one "what is historiography?". But until then, there's another question raised on the first day of class that I yearn to answer for myself: why do we study history?

When I enrolled in Brooklyn College in 1999, I bought a notebook in which I wrote "cool" quotations as I found them. The first entry in this ordinary book with  a black cover was inspired by my high school principle, who spoke during our graduation ceremony. As he congratulated us on our accomplishments, he finished his speech with, "Do what you love and love what you do."

My first semester did not end well, as I had to drop a class and barely passed another. It was hard on so many levels, not least because it was only two years since my arrival to this country and I was trying to study pre-med courses. My original major was biology, which changed to philosophy (ha!), and then to philosophy and law (double ha!). Language barrier aside, I realized that picking a major in my early undergraduate years was not a good idea. There were many interesting subjects, one more fun than the other.

By 2003, I had quit school again. I already knew I wasn't going to be a doctor, or lawyer; those subjects were too hard, or maybe I just lost interest in them. I was not yet interested in history, but it seems already at the time I had written something in my notebook foreshadowing my current discipline. It was from a textbook that I found on a street:

What can be said in response to justify the study of history? Insofar as people are ignorant of their past, they are also ignorant of much of their present, for the one grows directly out of the other. If we ignore or forget the experience of those who lived before us, we are like an amnesia victim, constantly puzzled by what should be familiar, surprised by what should be predictable. Not only do we not know what we should know, but we cannot perceive our true possibilities, because we have nothing to measure them against. The non-historical mind does not know what it is missing-and contrary to the old saying, that can definitely hurt you. ~Philip J. Adler

After my wedding in Dushanbe, I flew back to New York. The flight was a long one, almost 12 hours, and what kept me entertained was a book that I found in my uncle's library. It was the first book of V. G. Yan's trilogy, titled Chingizkhan.

It wasn't the first time I heard of the name Chingizkhan, but compared to what I knew about him from a video game, it was  a discovery that changed my life. It's a novel based on historic events, so interesting that I couldn't put it down. On its cover, the Mongolian conqueror was depicted with his cat-like eyes gazed into space which his galloping horsemen conquered in such a swift move that eight hundred years later would inspire the German blitzkrieg.

The author began with a greeting as befits those writers from the east in pre-Mongolian era: If it fell upon a person to witness unforeseen events such as: eruption of a fire-breathing mountain which destroyed flourishing settlements, or uprising of oppressed people against an all powerful ruler, or invasion of one's homeland by unknown and unbridled people - all of these the witness ought to put to paper.

As if addressed specifically to students of history, it was another sign that I only realized years later. After I finished reading Yan's book, I borrowed James Chambers' Devil's Horseman from college's library. It was written by a historian using contemporary sources, but I felt as if I was reading Yan's novel all over again with the exception of the dervish who served as the main character in the novel who was absent in Chambers' account. In essence, my lesson was that Genghis Khan, as he is known in the western sources, was not liked in his time or today, and it seems the only lessons to be taken from his life were those related to his military prowess. When a document relating the origins of the Mongolian conquer, later titled "The Secret History of the Mongols" by western scholars, was found in 19th Century it renewed interest not only among the historians who studied the man but also in the military circles of European powers. The genius which lead to creation of the largest empire in the human history became the source of inspiration for frantic generals of European countries waged to up the ante in a period between the two world wars.

If you ask anyone who has ever had a drink with me, they will tell you I have a special affinity to the Mongolian conqueror. This blog post would not be enough to explain in detail why that is the case, but I have learned that every historical figure, no matter how despised by his contemporaries or generations to come, ultimately has something positive to teach us (Hitler excepted as he brought nothing positive to this world). I have been reading on Genghis Khan ever since my discovery of Yan's book and I've learned that most of the negative cloud about him stems from another historical figure, known in the west as Tamerlane. My personal lessons and admiration for Genghis Khan are due to his perseverance and ability to adopt to his ever changing environment while remaining true to his origins. He wasn't a saint and certainly had blood on his hands, but what he achieved in life and the effect of those achievements in world history cannot simply be dismissed.....


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I began writing the above last Friday and wanted to finish it by Monday in commemoration of Masoud's death. The last two paragraphs I wrote this morning between 5am and 6am, only after mere 5 hours of sleep. Initially, I wanted to write about what I learned from three historic figures, namely Genghis Khan, Rumi, and Ahmad Shah Masoud, but it seems I have neither the time nor the energy to complete my thoughts in the same way I intended.

Instead of erasing all the above, I left it intact, so I can one day come back to it and finish what I started.  But to quickly summarize my intention, I wanted to relay how those three individuals affected me and how that answer helps in understanding why I study history.

Genghis Khan taught me to persevere in the harshest moments of life.
Rumi taught me to tolerate, though I am yet to master that, those who are different from me and my beliefs.
Masoud taught me to be kind even to my "enemies".

The lives of these three individuals intertwined if you know where to look.

Today, twenty two years after my country gained its independence and twelve years since 9/11, I will do well to remember the three lessons I learned from my mentors.

I don't know if this makes sense, but Yan said it best in his introduction: a man who witnesses events and does not share them is like a stingy man who covers his jewels even as death pays him a visit.

I study history because it is fun, but also, and perhaps mainly, because it is necessary to remember what happened. Who are we without our memories?

I'm losing my train of thought....