̽��ֱ�� of Cambridge - Mongolia

̽��ֱ��conservationist, the herders and the fashionistas

cg605 — Wed, 02 Dec 2020 16:56:00 +0000

Respect for the Mongolian landscape is engrained within her, says Onon Bayasgalan. Her work is helping herders in her home country to preserve livelihoods and lands that are under threat from the luxury fashion industry.

Ailing bodies, angry mountains, healing spirits: shamanic healing in Mongolia

lw355 — Fri, 18 Jan 2019 09:30:05 +0000

Read the story here

Through sound and photography, Cambridge researcher Dr Elizabeth Turk shares her experiences of talking to shamanic healers in Mongolia. Over the past eight years, the social anthropologist has been exploring the increased popularity of nature-based remedies and ‘alternative’ medicine in the wake of the region's seismic politico-economic shifts of recent decades.

Elizabeth Turk

Buyankhishig criss-crossed the hillside before making offerings of vodka and milk. Then, beating her drum and chanting, she invited her ancestral spirits to enter her body.

̽��ֱ��text in this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. Images, including our videos, are Copyright © ̽��ֱ�� of Cambridge and licensors/contributors as identified. All rights reserved. We make our image and video content available in a number of ways – as here, on our main website under its Terms and conditions, and on a range of channels including social media that permit your use and sharing of our content under their respective Terms.

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Archaeology shows there's more to millet than birdseed

lw355 — Mon, 24 Jul 2017 08:30:23 +0000

Over half of the food consumed by the human race in terms of calories comes from just three species of grain – wheat, rice and maize – yet in biological terms all are highly unnatural. They’ve been bred, generation after generation, to have grains that are super-sized in relation to their stems. This is perfect for maximising crop yields and profits, but not so perfect if growing conditions change in a changing climate.

Professor Martin Jones, Head of Cambridge’s Department of Archaeology and Anthropology, is far more interested in a group of around 20 species of small-grained cereals that are generically termed millets. They look like wild grasses, don’t need much water, grow quickly and have a good nutritional balance. Yet, until recently, they have been largely overlooked by the Western world as a food source for humans, and are most commonly found in packets of birdseed.

Now Jones has brought attention to this ancient grain as a means of mitigating against the boom–bust nature of harvests. His work has contributed to a growing market in Asia for high-quality millet from Aohan, Inner Mongolia, and the cereal’s potential is attracting interest from big multinational companies.

All of this has come from Jones’ archaeological interest in ancient farming practices. Searching for evidence of millet in the Neolithic, he discovered two key species – broomcorn and foxtail millet – in the prehistoric crop record in Europe, despite both being botanically East Asian. By piecing together the archaeological evidence, it became clear that Asian millets were coming into Europe, and that wheat and barley from Europe were moving into Asia.

“This wasn’t a time when farming was transitioning from hunter-gathering to agriculture,” says Jones. “What we were seeing was a move from single-season, single-crop agriculture to multi-season, multi-crop agriculture.” Hundreds of years ago the Asian millets were being used in flexible and innovative ways, and became among the most geographically widespread crops in the world. By using crops from other regions, the farmers could add another growing season and significantly increase their yields.

Jones’ archaeological work took him to a new site in Aohan when evidence emerged of local millet cultivation in Neolithic times. There, his Chinese colleagues found carbonised particles of foxtail and broomcorn millet dating from 7,700 to 8,000 years ago, which proved to be the earliest record of their cultivation in the world.

But it was his conversations with local farmers that radically altered his perception of the grains. “When we first visited Aohan it could sometimes be hard to tell whether the millet was growing as a crop or as a weed. We asked the locals, and rather than tell us it was a stupid question – that it was irrelevant whether it was crop or weed – they politely answered a different one. They told us what it tasted like and when they last ate it. These people had lived through hard times, famines, so to survive they had developed more open ideas. I realised then that I’d come with concepts that seemed universal but just weren’t relevant to the lives of people in contemporary northern China.”

̽��ֱ��development of their farming practices, like those of the ancient farmers, was driven by the need for resilient plants that could ripen to harvest in challenging years, to ensure food security for the population. “What archaeologists can’t reconstruct is how much the early farmers understood the significance of what they were doing,” says Jones, “but this – and what we’ve heard from today’s Aohan peasant farmers – is something we can learn from in addressing our current food challenges.”

“With harvests and growing conditions intimately linked, the changes in climate now happening across the world pose a real threat to food security in certain regions,” adds Jones. “To get the unusually big grain size we see in wheat, rice and maize, a lot of the properties that give the plants inherent resilience have been sacrificed. Being geared towards producing heads of large grains is terrific if you can guarantee all the water, nutrients and sunlight they need. But the crops are much more prone to complete failure if something changes, like the amount of rainfall in a growing season. It’s like putting all your eggs in one basket.”

For farming systems where there’s no financial infrastructure providing subsidies and grants to help farmers control the growing conditions through irrigation, pesticides and other methods, inherent crop resilience can be vital to a successful harvest.

“Millets have an unparalleled genetic diversity both because of their long history of cultivation, and because they’ve been grown in so many regions of the world, including very harsh ones,” says Jones. “This means they’ve retained the wild traits that give them resilience to changes in growing conditions. They don’t need much water, they grow quickly, and they have a great nutritional balance.”

After his work demonstrated the importance of the Asian millets and their origins in northern China, the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations recognised the Aohan Dryland Farming System as a ‘Globally Important Agricultural Heritage Systems’ site. Aohan millet is now badged as a high-quality product and sold in large quantities to the domestic Chinese market, where it is a staple food. This year, Jones was among those awarded a medal from the Aohan government, not only for raising the profile of Aohan millet but also for helping the farmers to turn around the fate of this once overlooked crop, with support from their local government.

“I’m delighted that the Aohan government found such a useful and practical connection to academic research,” says Jones. “For me, talking to the farmers and local people in Inner Mongolia has taught me that their knowledge about plants is enormous.”

Given the increasing number of extreme weather events, and a growing population demanding a more varied diet, the world is facing a potential crisis in terms of food security. Aid agencies in Africa are becoming more aware of the practice of growing millet alongside the central maize crop as a safeguard against total harvest failure and are supporting farmers in Africa to continue to do this. And UK producers are showing interest in millet as a raw ingredient in branded consumer foods to help people improve their health and wellbeing.

“A huge amount of research linked to food security has focused on the really major crops,” says Jones. “Millets have taught me that it’s worth shifting the focus. We may have a lot still to learn from our Neolithic predecessors.”

Research funded by the European Research Council, the Natural Environment Research Council, the Wellcome Trust and the Leverhulme Trust.

Insert image: Millet, credit fluffymuppet on flickr.

Archaeological research shows that our prehistoric ancestors built resilience into their food supply. Now archaeologists say ‘forgotten’ millet – a cereal familiar today as birdseed – has a role to play in modern crop diversity and in helping to feed the world’s population.

A huge amount of research linked to food security has focused on the really major crops. Millets have taught me that it’s worth shifting the focus. We may have a lot still to learn from our Neolithic predecessors.

Martin Jones

Beat Kung

̽��ֱ��text in this work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License. For image use please see separate credits above.

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Mongolia: unravelling the troubled narratives of a nation

amb206 — Fri, 27 Feb 2015 08:00:00 +0000

In the spring of 1991 Franck Billé sat in a north London cinema watching the movie Urga. Nikita Mikhalkov’s award-winning film tells the story of the unlikely friendship that develops between a Russian truck driver and a Mongolian herder. Billé, a Russian language student at the ̽��ֱ�� of Westminster, was captivated by the movie’s narrative and the stunning landscapes. He decided that, instead of going to Moscow for the semester abroad required by his course, he would travel to Ulaanbaatar.

A few months later Billé flew in to Mongolia’s capital city airport where he was met by the local family he was going to stay with. His knowledge of Mongolia, a country three times the size of France, was confined to what he had read in the Lonely Planet guidebook. “I spoke fluent Russian but only a few words of Mongolian which I’d picked up from an old conversation book,” he says. All this was to change as he immersed himself in Mongolian culture, and began studying the language.

Today Billé is one of around a dozen researchers based in the Mongolia and Inner Asia Studies Unit (MIASU) at the ̽��ֱ�� of Cambridge. Recently published books by Billé and his MIASU colleague Dr Christopher Kaplonski make important contributions to the scholarship that has emerged from MIASU since its establishment in 1986. Both books are the outcome of recent fieldwork in Mongolia and both deal with universal human issues that are deeply uncomfortable. A launch of the books takes place at Heffer’s bookshop in Cambridge next Tuesday (3 March 2015).

In Sinophobia: Anxiety, Violence, and the Making of Mongolian Identity, Franck Billé explores the identity of a country that feels increasingly under pressure from its booming southern neighbour. ̽��ֱ��Lama Question: Violence, Sovereignty and Exception in Early Socialist Mongolia by Christopher Kaplonski challenges accepted narratives about the violent crushing of the Buddhist establishment in the 1930s as the monasteries that had dominated life for centuries were torn apart.

With a population of 2.8 million, Mongolia shares a border with two of the world’s foremost powers which have long played a pivotal role in its identity. Russia, lying to Mongolia’s north, is a declining player on the global stage. China, to its south, is a flourishing economy hungry for the resources that Mongolia possesses – notably coal, copper and gold.

From his first visit, Billé was fascinated by the politics of Mongolian nationalism and how this informs the country’s relationships with its neighbours. His initial encounter with the country took place just eight years after its liberation from the Soviet Union. ̽��ֱ��Soviets had held the country in a tight grip for 70 years and had presided over the dismantlement of Mongolia’s traditional nomadic society, a process that saw many thousands of deaths.

Primed by dire warnings in the pages of his guidebook, Billé was nervous that as a Russian-speaking stranger, he would be unwelcome. His fears were unfounded. Instead, he was struck by the lack of post-socialist resentment shown by the Mongolians he met, including the family with whom he lodged. Yet, as Buriads, a Mongolian ethnic group living mostly in the Russian Federation to the north of Mongolia, their community had suffered tremendously, particularly in the political purges of the 1930s. Many of those considered to be ‘intellectuals’ were Buriad and, as ‘enemies of the people,’ they were deported to Siberia, never to be seen again.

Why, wondered Billé, were the Mongolians so apparently accepting of their recent history as a nation until the control of an outside force? “Russians have made mistakes but generally their presence was positive. They brought a lot of good things,” he was told by his hosts in Ulaanbaatar. These good things included forms of ‘high culture’ (such as ballet, opera, urban living) and protection from Chinese territorial ambitions.

On each successive visit, Billé became increasingly aware of the striking differences in Mongolian attitudes to its neighbours – and modern Mongolia’s discourses about China form the backbone of his book. Over the course of his fieldwork in Ulaanbaatar, he has built up a picture of a nation whose identity is contingent on a deeply-entrenched distrust and dislike of its Chinese neighbours – a phenomenon described as Sinophobia.

Since Mongolia’s southern border reopened in the early 1990s, the Chinese have invested heavily in Mongolia, quickly becoming its main trade partner. Mongolia’s coal resources were crucial to China’s rapid growth. In turn, China has been able to supply household goods that are no longer available in Russia. While the Mongolians have undoubtedly benefited from their position on the border with China, they have remained deeply suspicious of their southern neighbour’s intentions. China is suspected of sending men to reproduce with Mongolian women and dilute the gene pool. Chinese vegetables are said to be purposefully poisoned. It is even rumoured that China is biding its time to take over the country.

“In the west, we see Mongolia as part of Asia, its people and culture enmeshed with those of its neighbours. But this is not how the Mongolians see themselves. They draw a clear line between themselves and other Asians, particularly the Chinese. Because Mongolians are so keen to deny any cultural and ethnic overlap, to be called Chinese is perceived as a great insult,” says Billé.

“It’s common to hear derogatory statements about the Chinese and to see insulting graffiti. Hip hop songs, in particular, have been an important vector of national pride and anti-Chinese sentiments. Tourists visiting Mongolia may well return home with little idea of the level of anti-Chinese sentiments but anyone who can read and understand Mongolian will be immediately aware of the Sinophobia that pervades public discourse.”

At its most extreme, Sinophobia takes the form of Dayaar Mongol (All Mongolia), a far-right nationalist group. In 2009, Dayaar Mongol signalled its disapproval of Sino-Mongolian relationships by posting a video of a woman with her hair shorn as punishment for the ‘crime’ of having sex with a Chinese man.

“These extreme groups do not enjoy widespread support and are generally seen as hooligans. But, for the vast majority of Mongolians, dislike of China isn’t seen as racist. It is perceived primarily as self-defence. Voicing criticisms of the Chinese is functionally equivalent to a patriotic statement,” says Billé.

“Many Mongolians will confide in private that they do not have anything against the Chinese. However, making such statements in public would render them suspect. They would be seen as unpatriotic and potentially traitors. And they would also be suspected of being part Chinese.”

Christopher Kaplonski comes to the subject of his book, which explores the violence again Buddhist monks in Mongolia in the 1930s, culminating in genocide, as an anthropologist interested in the way in which nations and individuals build narratives around political violence and its aftermath. Kaplonski was one of the first Western anthropologists to carry out fieldwork in Mongolia. He has worked on collective memory, political violence, identity, and coming to terms with the past.

Kaplonksi’s research covers the dynamics of political conflict, as well as the processes of social-political reconstruction in coming to terms with the past. In the turbulent period covered by his book, ̽��ֱ��Lama Question: Violence, Sovereignty and Exception in Early Socialist Mongolia, the newly-installed socialist government sought to break the power of the Buddhist establishment, and establish Mongolia as the world’s second socialist country, following the Soviet Union itself.

In doing so, the socialists waged a decade and a half long struggle from the early 1920s to the late 1930s to win the hearts and minds of the Mongolian populace, deploying a wide variety of measures, such as propaganda, punitive taxes and eventually mass killings.

In particular, Kaplonski looks at the execution of approximately 18,000 Buddhist priests and how this dark episode has been absorbed into Mongolia’s history. Most significantly, he complicates the accepted narrative that Joseph Stalin ordered the execution of lamas and that the Mongolian government and the Mongolian People’s Revolutionary Party, as agents of a nation under the thumb of Choibalsan, had no choice but to carry out the directives of a Communist dictator.

̽��ֱ��phrase ‘the lama question’ (lam naryn asuudal in Mongolian) is the term the socialist government itself used to signify the struggle between the socialist government and religious establishment of Mongolia.

Buddhism, in the shape of over 700 monasteries populated by some 80,000 lamas, had for centuries exerted an influence that extended deep into politics, economics and everyday life, rather in the same way that Roman Catholicism dominated pre-Reformation Europe. Often seen as backward and corrupt, even by reforming Buddhists, the Buddhist establishment represented an almost insurmountable challenge to the socialists determined to bring their vision of modernity and progress to Mongolia.

“One of the things that intrigued me most, from an academic point of view, was the fact that the violence took so long to erupt. Political violence is often seen as a tool of first resort for totalitarian governments the world over, but in Mongolia, it was a step they avoided taking for over a decade and a half. ̽��ֱ��book is an attempt to answer this question: why did it take so long,” says Kaplonski.

In the space of just 18 months, between late 1937 and mid-1939, many thousands of lamas were sentenced to death and shot. All but a handful of the monasteries across the country were destroyed – and with them countless numbers of religious artefacts, books and culture were lost to future generations. It is estimated that a further 18,000 people, many of them Buriads, were also killed during a period which is portrayed in both Mongolian and Western history as an episode sparked by Stalin’s ‘Great Terror’.

A chance discovery in the Mongolian National Central Archives in Ulaanbaatar of a trial against leading Buddhist monks prompted Kaplonski to begin the painstaking task of piecing together a story that conflicts with the narrative that most Mongolians recount if they are asked about the repressions and mass killings of the 1930s.

Intrigued by what he read, Kaplonski set about improving his grasp of Mongol bichig (the classic Mongolian script in use at the time ) and from 2008 to 2011 he spent months sifting through documents held in the Central Archives in and other archives. He also visited some of the surviving monasteries, since restored, and interviewed a wide range of people, those who had lost relatives, had been monks themselves, or grew up next to the ruins of a monastery.

“Day after day, I sat under a window in the Central Archives and ploughed through piles of government resolutions and reports in what often seemed like a fruitless exercise, occasionally rewarded by the appearance of a document that provided a key piece of the puzzle – such as a letter between top officials wondering what to do with the monasteries now that they were all empty,” says Kaplonski.

“The organisation of the archives is fairly rudimentary – for example, there is no cross-referencing of files. On top of that, the archives of the secret police, which hold the case files themselves, are closed to foreign, and most Mongolian, researchers.”

Kaplonski’s extraordinary determination bore fruit in 2008 when he was given permission to obtain copies of ‘rehabilitation documents’ from the secret police (known as the Dotood Yam) archives. His coup meant that he was able to add a small but important piece to the giant puzzle of the lama question.

A close reading of the ‘rehabilitation’ documents enabled Kaplonski to build a more detailed picture of the process by which people could apply to have their relatives cleared of the charges laid against them in the 1930s. This process, essentially a re-examination of the original case, not only brought closure to those who never knew what happened to their relatives, but the documents also provided key details to the bureaucracy and reasoning behind the mass killings.

̽��ֱ��personal stories of the countless lamas who were killed, or fled into the countryside, will never fully be told. “Monastic records for the 1930s simply do not exist,” says Kaplonski. “Such documents were either destroyed by the state or by the monks themselves as their impending fate became evident. Few Mongolians at this period wrote letters or kept diaries. Oral histories and reminiscences can give a personal account of a particular experience but not in the detail required to build a more comprehensive understanding of how and why what took place happened.”

Most other scholars have simply portrayed the events of the 1930s as Stalin’s Great Terror spilling over into Mongolia. Kaplonski has taken the inquiry still deeper into uncomfortable territory. His conclusion that the Mongolian secret police and government bureaucracies who carried out the monitoring and eventual killings of lamas, and others, had more agency than has been publically acknowledged will grate with popular Mongolian narratives for a period that, for many older citizens, falls within well living memory.

“Blaming Stalin allows unpleasant and potentially divisive issues of responsibility and guilt to be avoided. Few Mongolians, or other academics have questioned this view. Difficult questions about the agency of Mongolians in the killings for the most part haven’t really been asked,” he says.

“Indeed, it is reported that the archives of the security services remain closed precisely because to open them up would be devastating in a country where social networks are tightly intertwined and where it would not be a surprising for a descendent of a repressed person to know the descendants of his or her repressors.”

Sinophobia: Anxiety, Violence, and the Making of Mongolian Identity by Franck Billé and ̽��ֱ��Lama Question: Violence, Sovereignty, and Exception in Early Socialist Mongolia by Christopher Kaplonski are both published by ̽��ֱ�� of Hawai’i Press. Both books will be launched at an event at Heffer’s bookshop in Cambridge on 3 March 2015, 6.30-8.00pm. Booking not required but please RSVP to david.robinson@blackwells.co.uk.

MIASU was established in 1986 by the distinguished anthropologist Professor Caroline Humphrey. Ever since, it has played a pivotal role in the careers of researchers from all over the world seeking to understand this little known yet strategic region.

MIASU also facilitates visits from Mongolian and Tibetan scholars who typically stay in Cambridge for a few months, giving them the opportunity to access specialist and rare material in Cambridge ̽��ֱ�� Library and discuss their research with colleagues at Cambridge.

Inset images: ger in Ulaanbaatar selling fermented mare's milk and horse meat (Franck Billé), street scene in Ulaanbaatar (Chris Kaplonski), anti-Chinese graffiti: Mongolians let's kill Chinese (Billé), Baruun Hüree, a Mongolian monastery in Övörhangai province, sutra (books) said to have been buried during socialism and later retrieved, two high-ranking lamas (foreground) on trial as counter-revolutionaries, 1937 (all Kaplonski).

In two separate books, anthropologists Dr Franck Billé and Dr Christopher Kaplonski look at the identity of Mongolia, a country that stands at a cultural and political crossroads. While Billé explores Mongolia’s relationship with its powerful neighbours, Kaplonski revisits a dark period in the country’s recent history.

In the west, we see Mongolia as part of Asia, its people and culture enmeshed with those of its neighbours. But this is not how the Mongolians see themselves. They draw a clear line between themselves and other Asians, particularly the Chinese.

Franck Billé

Chris Kaplonski

Traffic in Ulaanbaator

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̽��ֱ��life of borders: where China and Russia meet

amb206 — Tue, 06 Nov 2012 09:50:00 +0000

China and Russia are growing economic and political powers that share thousands of miles of border. Despite this proximity, their practical, local interactions with each other — and with their third neighbour Mongolia — are rarely discussed. There is no better place than the border to compare the remarkably dissimilar ways that economic development, the rule of law, citizen rights, migration and inequality are managed. It is here that many incipient trends are emerging. On one hand, the border is where cultural differences and divergent international strategies become evident; on the other hand, it is where new partnerships are developing.

Last month saw the launch of a new project, “Where Rising Powers meet: China and Russia at their north Asian border”, within the Mongolia & Inner Asia Studies Unit, in Cambridge's Division of Social Anthropology. ̽��ֱ��project will run for three years under the leadership of Professor Caroline Humphrey, a renowned expert on the region. Professor Humphrey will head a multidisciplinary team of 16 researchers who will carry out research at various sites along the border, from Mongolia in the west to Vladivostok in the east. ̽��ֱ��researchers are all specialists in their field, with years of experience of research along this strategic border. Several of them are native to the region.

̽��ֱ��new research programme builds on an earlier project that ran from January 2010 to January 2011. It brought together anthropologists, sociologists, economists and stakeholders with specialist knowledge of the region into productive dialogue. Their work was presented at two workshops where multiple political, economic and sociocultural dimensions of the border were explored. ̽��ֱ��workshops led to the publication of Frontier Encounters: Knowledge and Practice at the Russian, Chinese and Mongolian Border (Open Book Publishers, Cambridge, 2012), the first book in English to focus on the border between China and Russia.

̽��ֱ��researchers contributing to the new project are drawn from a diverse range of backgrounds and national institutions. Among them is Dr Natalia Ryzhova, an economic sociologist at the Far Eastern Branch of the Russian Academy of Science. Her research has shown that while Russian media have consistently associated criminal networks at the border with the Chinese, in reality many of these networks have emerged through partnerships between Russians and Chinese, who both exploit legal loopholes and navigate a complex bribery system.

̽��ֱ��past two decades have also seen the renewal of ancient ties between the indigenous populations on either side of the border. For most of the Soviet period, and particularly during the final three decades when the border was sealed shut and heavily militarised, there was very little contact between them. Yet the region is home to many ethnic groups, such as the Mongols and Buryats whose traditional nomadic lifestyle did not recognise national boundaries. When the border reopened in the early 1990s, divided communities were able to renew their kinship ties. Many of these groups, such as Mongols, Evenki or Koreans, have been able to exploit their connections and take on the role of middlemen.

Another member of the research team is Dr Sayana Namsaraeva, herself a Buryat. She will examine the practices of ethnic traders and the personal and professional ties they weave with their co-ethnics beyond the border. She will also map out the cross-border routes taken by people and their commodities. This kind of research is crucial to an understanding of the enduring significance of the cultural and ethnic links that have historically underpinned the region and continue to do so. Dr Namsaraeva’s research will also highlight the many ways in which communities on either side have developed along divergent axes, and the different worldviews they have come to adopt as citizens of Russia, China or Mongolia.

̽��ֱ��chasm between different worldviews is especially visible in border cities such as Blagoveshchensk in Russia and Heihe in China, which stand opposite each other on the banks of Amur River, separated by just 500 metres yet reflecting strikingly different cultures. These two cities have been a focus of research by Dr Franck Billé, co-ordinator of the project in Cambridge’s Division of Social Anthropology. His work looks at the ideological dimension of Sino-Russian interaction and t he tectonic shifts that accompany China’s rise as a world power. Whereas local Russians previously assumed a certain cultural superiority and saw their city as a beacon of progress and modernity in Asia, unparalleled numbers of Russians are now studying Chinese with the ambition to work in China.

These recent developments appear to reflect wider geopolitical and economic trends. While the Russian Far East has witnessed strong outmigration in the last two decades, China’s economic footprint has increased. As a result, Moscow has grown increasingly wary of Chinese involvement and is seeking to reassert its presence in the Far East. But regional centres do not always share the views expressed in capital cities. In many ways Vladivostok (meaning ‘Ruler of the East’ in Russian) symbolises this growing tension between central and regional powers. It is a city where important world and regional summits are being held, but it is also a city with a history of resistance against Moscow’s rule. Professor Humphrey’s work in Vladivostok will examine the crucial role of this strategic city in the context of a complex geopolitical background.

Frontier Encounters: Knowledge and Practice at the Russian, Chinese and Mongolian Border presents a wide range of views on how the borders between these countries are enacted, produced, and crossed. It also sheds light on global uncertainties: China’s search for energy resources and the employment of its huge population, Russia’s fear of Chinese migration, and the precarious economic independence of Mongolia as its neighbours negotiate to extract its plentiful resources.

̽��ֱ��volume is available in hardback, paperback and e-book. It can also be read for free on the publisher’s website, at http://www.openbookpublishers.com

More information about the project is available on the website www.northasianborders.net

A new project based in Cambridge’s Division of Social Anthropology is looking at interactions between China, Mongolia and Russia at the point where these nations meet – on the immense border that separates them.

On one hand, the border is where cultural differences and divergent international strategies become evident; on the other hand, it is where new partnerships are developing. 

John S.Y. Lee (flickr Creative Commons)

Chinese frontier guard at the Manzhouli-Zabaikalsk border

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Licence. If you use this content on your site please link back to this page.

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'Extreme Sleepover #12’ – an equestrian adventure on the Mongolian steppes

bjb42 — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 09:00:10 +0000

I had not been this cold in ages. My deel, a traditional Mongolian garment not unlike a silky patterned bathrobe, had protected me from being burnt by the sun earlier, but it felt flimsy against the night air. Lying on my saddle-pads for insulation with my head resting against a hard wooden saddle, I contemplated the journey that had brought me to this volcanic crater in South-Eastern of Mongolia, on the border with China.

There was something about Shilin Bogd, the mountain rising above the crater where we slept, that had intrigued me. Shilin Bogd is a holy mountain where men can replenish their inner khiimor or 'wind-horses'. This trip was a chance to show my appreciation for the opportunities Mongolia had given me while exploring a concept central to my research on horse-dog-human relations in rural Mongolia. In Cambridge I had saved up my student loan and squeezed in Mongolian lessons between lectures. Now it was exhilarating to have a diary full of interview notes and a camera full of photos.

Ganbat, my host and guide, and I had ridden 70km over five hours that morning, stopping only for tea and water. According to Ganbat, I was learning to ride like a shilin sain er or good shilin man. In the past these men were highly regarded for their feats of endurance, rustling horses over vast distances. Praised for their toughness, they were 'good' in the sense that they acquired their horses from afar, never stealing locally. They epitomise the ideal Mongolian man, putting his animals' health before his own and with great knowledge of the steppe environment.

I had been looking at how Eastern Mongolians were bringing in new breeding horses. Long distance horse racing has boomed in Mongolia in the last few decades and the lush grazing in the East is renowned for producing the fastest horses. Today, introducing new breeding lines means importing horses of Arab and thoroughbred descent from Russia. I want to find out how this fresh wave of cross-breeding articulates with Mongolian notions of nationalism and purity. I am also looking at how Mongolians experience their relationships with horses and dogs, through cross-species concepts like khiimor, originally a Buddhist notion that is locally associated with luck, spirit and willpower. Just as there are rituals for men to replenish their khiimor, so there are rituals to raise the spirits of a 'depressed' horse.

Rising before dawn to climb Shilin Bogd to see the sunrise, I felt revived despite my lack of sleep. There were other visitors on the mountain, tossing their offerings of rice, vodka and sweeties onto the huge ovoo (cairn) at the top, as the light flooded the sea of grass below us. ̽��ֱ��horses were also perky, having spent the night grazing. They were travelling on full bellies; but like true shilin sain er we were not, a swig of vodka from a fellow pilgrim, a handful of cereal from my saddlebags and we were off.

That night on the steppe taught me to appreciate the shelter afforded by the Mongolian ger (yurt). Ganbat and his wife, Olziisaikhan, share their tiny summer ger with six sons and yet managed to accommodate and feed guests. Later, my translator helped me check with Ganbat that I’d grasped everything he had told me and that I’d understood elaborate concepts that were way beyond my rudimentary Mongolian. As I savoured a large bowl of noodles with mutton and steppe herbs, I felt one step closer to understanding how Mongolians relate to their animals and their landscape. I was putting into practice the anthropological theory I'd been learning in Cambridge in between long hours learning to herd and immersing myself in horse-talk.

My trip gave me a sense of how the landscape still encompasses the Mongolians and their animals. They regard the natural environment as something to work with and within: a kind of reciprocal relationship. As Mongolia enters a financial 'golden era' on the back of huge transnational mining investment, this perspective of humans as part of the landscape, rather than dominating it, poses some urgent and challenging questions – and not just for Mongolia.

Robin Irvine

Robin is in his final year as an undergraduate studying anthropology at Corpus Christi College. Before he came to Cambridge he spent several years working with Clydesdale and Shire horses at Cumbrian Heavy Horses in the Lake District. His fieldwork in Mongolia was supported by the Worshipful Company of Cutlers and the Corpus Christi College Long Vacation Travel Grant.

In the latest report of the Extreme Sleepover series, undergraduate Robin Irvine explains how a fascination for the relationships between humans, horses and dogs took him to the Mongolian steppes.

Long distance horse racing has boomed in Mongolia in the last few decades and the lush grazing in the East is renowned for producing the fastest horses.

Robin Irvine

Robin Irvine at the shrine on top of Shilin Bogd

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Where empires meet

lw355 — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 13:09:53 +0000

As rising economic and political powers, China and Russia often attract attention in relation to the West, but their interactions with one another, and comparisons between them, are less understood. Yet the two powers share thousands of miles of border, with the country of independent Mongolia lodged in-between them in the central part of the long frontier.

Our multidisciplinary project, based in the Mongolia and Inner Asia Studies Unit (MIASU), has for the first time brought together international discussion on the theme of the border economies of the three countries.

Over the course of the past year, with funding from the Economic and Social Research Council, the network has provided a unique opportunity for social scientists from Russia, China and Mongolia to meet with their counterparts in the UK at two workshops and through an online network. And to maintain collaboration among the physically dispersed scholars, a virtual experimental and empirical research environment – a ‘collaboratory’ – has been built, in which researchers can share research and ideas and, ultimately, trace the cross-border trajectories taken by people, goods and ideas.

Global relevance

Global uncertainties are at issue in this region: China’s search for energy resources and the employment of its huge population; Russia’s fear of Han infiltration of its Siberian expanses; and the precarious independence of Mongolia as both neighbours negotiate to obtain rights to extract resources there.

Greater knowledge is needed on how the changing socioeconomic conditions of neighbouring states affect migration flows between China and Russia, as well as the different citizenship regimes that are practically operative between the three countries.

Deeper understanding is also needed about conflicts of interest – in cross-border practices, local governments and central state policies – and what the reality is of Chinese expansion into Siberia and Mongolia. With international ventures, such as oil or gas pipelines, or uranium mines, it is important to establish what the local reactions are and what implications such ventures have for environmental policies.

An in-depth analysis of these dynamics requires not only the kinds of accounts provided by political science and economics, but also the information and insights that anthropology can furnish. ̽��ֱ��rationale for this project lies in the lack of accessible and reliable accounts of the practical workings of the Chinese and Russian states, especially in minority-inhabited regions such as those along the frontier. Where new information about the situation on the ground does exist, much of it is ongoing and unpublished, or is buried in local publications and published in languages that are difficult for all to access.

If Russia and China are to be properly understood, both by scholars and policy makers based in the West and by those of the countries concerned, there is a need to collect, translate and disseminate this research and to analyse it comparatively.

Frontier knowledge

̽��ֱ��frontier zone linking China and Russia with eastern Mongolia is a region where MIASU has built strong links, engaging in policy debate as well as academic research. Although this 4,400-mile border is not an area of global economic advertisement for either country, it is a significant region for strategic policy.

Already, findings from the network are identifying how these hinterlands out of the public eye can tell us much about emergent processes of economic and political governance, through analysis of the practical operations of these post-imperial states.

For instance, two ongoing, and so far little-studied, regional processes are likely to be particularly illuminating. Russia has a policy of amalgamating small, ethnically defined territories into larger units with Moscow-appointed leadership. And China has a policy of relocating herding populations, almost all of which are from ethnic minorities, and closing pastures for purposes of environmental protection. Each of these policies may be compared with parallel, but different, solutions to problems of governance and environment on the other side of the border.

Such comparison is aided by the fact that the main indigenous population of the studied frontier zone consists of one ethnic group, the Buryat, a people of Mongolian origin. ̽��ֱ��two above-mentioned administrative decisions have aroused considerable anxiety for the Buryat and other local people. Work has begun through the network to assess existing information on the forms of protest and compliance found, and the effects on migration and trade.

̽��ֱ��inclusion of Mongolia in the network is also significant because it allows us to explore how Russia and China attempt to include such countries in their sphere of interest. Mongolia is resource-rich but underdeveloped, and a prominent object of resource extraction for both China and Russia.

This study allows us to examine processes of infrastructure construction and resource extraction that are comparable with Chinese and Russian ventures elsewhere in the world. It also enables us to investigate what particular consequences Russia and China’s rise might have for future regional divisions of labour, and for examining the social consequences of economic adjustment within Mongolian society.

Zones of uncertainty

Both Russia and China like to imagine themselves as centralised, vertically organised states that control all of the territories up to their borders. Yet, distant hinterlands remain zones of uncertainty, where there may be a potentially flammable mix of anxieties surrounding the extraction of valuable resources and mobile ethnic populations.

Recent anthropological research by MIASU members on the topic has shown that another phenomenon is to be added to the mix: laterally organised, informal, partially legal, local economies operate to some degree in opposition to central state policy and make their profits precisely because of the existence of the border.

One example is illegal salmon fishing and fish trade in the Amur River (the border), where ethnographers have shown the existence of networks of poachers and phoney companies linked across the border. ̽��ֱ��Siberian–Chinese–Mongolian frontier is alive with ‘transmigrants’, guestworkers, joint ventures, smuggling, mediators, shuttle-traders, illegal work gangs and fictitious companies.

Our discussions of the real situation on the border are addressing policy stakeholder’s concerns, such as poverty and survival strategies, transparency and social adjustment. ̽��ֱ��relation of this burgeoning frontier economy to more formal ventures, such as the Russia–China gas pipeline, Russian mining in Mongolia, or Chinese railways in Mongolia, as well as to potential ethnic conflict, will also be investigated, especially given that the same conditions do not apply everywhere.

But our end goal will be to contribute some answers to questions of global significance: is China expanding, and if so, how? And how do China and Russia actually govern their frontier provinces and potential disturbances therein?

For more information, please contact Professor Caroline Humphrey (ch10001@cam.ac.uk), Dr Gregory Delaplace (gd307@cam.ac.uk) and Dr Franck Billé (franck.bille AT gmail.com) at the Mongolia and Inner Asia Studies Unit (http://innerasiaresearch.org/).

How two ‘rising powers’ – China and Russia – interact across the border they share with resource-rich Mongolia is the focus of a network led by the Mongolia and Inner Asia Studies Unit, as the researchers involved explain.

Global uncertainties are at issue in this region.

Sayana Namsaraeva

Siberian timber being delivered to China

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