Category: Michael

Traditions are crafted.

Which is to say that they do not arise spontaneously out of the thin air, though the specifics of the tradition probably are generated spontaneously from the creativity of those acting out the tradition. In the case of a family, there is little like a tradition to give a sense of history and enduring continuity to a collective experience that so rarely feels permanent or stable.

The most visible traditions are probably around holiday celebrations, if only because the family spends the most time together, away from other obligations. In other words, if your family “always” decorates the Christmas Tree on the 24th of December or “always” goes canoeing on Memorial Day, that is a strong statement of family identity with obligations extending into the future. Not only that, knowledge of these traditions and participation defines membership in the family. In deed, membership in a family is rarely binary, but rather a matter of degree or a sliding scale of involvement.

In the case of history at the national level, similar traditions seem to serve similar purposes, being crafted similarly, with similar results. Children especially offer the point of comparison, since they are both the most obvious members of families (through knowledge and participation in family traditions) and of nations (through knowledge and participation in national holidays). Here I would make it clear that I mean school-children specifically. The school is, for many people, the first public institution where one encounters the agenda, whims, and plans of the state. In the case of the United States, the Pledge of Allegiance is a good example.

I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

Since its introduction in 1942, it has served many purposes, a common identity for US citizens not least of them. It has served to unify and unite disparate generations. When older citizens learn that a school has stopped reciting the pledge, the implication then is that a shared experience has been lost. The actual meaning of the words seems to be, if not secondary, than of less importance than many suspect.

In Kazakhstan, I saw many celebrations of tradition. While they may not have been direct analogs for the Pledge of Allegiance in the USA, I believe they produce similar results. The least surprising were Soviet or Soviet-inspired, usually variations on the theme of “Memory Eternal” to the hero-martyrs and surviving veterans of the war with Germany, WWII. More interesting to me were the pageants and shows involving students in costumes portraying heroes of the steppe. The picture that goes along with this post comes from the “Last Bell” ceremony at my school in Sayram in Southern Kazakhstan — somewhat analogous with graduation day in the United States, though it includes performances by the entire student body, with speeches, music, and the showcasing of student activities, arts, and crafts.

“Why are you studying the history of the Kazakhs?”

I heard this question many times and it deserves a better answer than I have given in the past.

First, I would indicate that the question generally is no more specific than the above. In other words, there is no interest in why I’m studying the 18th century over the 20th century, for example. “Why are you studying the Jüün Ghar wars instead of wars with Russia or Kokand,” no one asks me. “Why all this focus on southern instead of northern Kazakhstan?”

For some small portion of people, the question might be “Why does anyone study history at all?” I’m not particularly comfortable with my answers to this question. In brief, I study history because I want to and because, so far, I am able to do so. I want to study history because I love the stories, the explanations, and the way the stories and explanations change over time.

For more people, I think the real question is “Why are you, Michael, studying the history of the Kazakhs.” What am I, and what am I not? I am not a Kazakh, first and foremost. I am also not a Russian or other non-Kazakh citizen of the Republic of Kazakhstan, the Russian Federation, or anywhere in the former Union of Soviet Socialist Republics. So, perhaps this question has various flavors: “Why is an American studying Kazakh history?” or “Why is a white, non-Russian studying Kazakh history?” or “Why is a Christian studying [Muslim] Kazakh history?”

This is a problem in almost any field of history, or so it seems from my limited experience. A study of Indian History in the American academy who is not themselves Indian (or at least an Indian-American) will face similar questions and assumptions of ulterior motives. Similarly a non-indigenous person studying the history of Native Americans will likely face some serious questions as to just why, exactly, are they so interested in Native Americans? It seems that the majority of history is written by outsiders, in some light. At the end of the day, there are no diaries being published as “historical textbooks.” We are separated from the past and our subjects of study by time, if not also by religion, culture, language, and genetics. The measure of that distance may be great, but still we try to overcome through the strength of our arguments, evidence, and perseverance. How else can anyone write anything about the Ancient Greeks or the Han Dynasty in China? Despite what some nationalist policies have intoned, there is very little physically connecting those people to the current residents of our planet. In much the same, the inhabitants of the steppes of Kazakhstan in the 18th century have little in common with the inhabitants of the Republic of Kazakhstan, the Russian Federation, or the United States. The way of life alone separates the early Kazakhs from those studying them today, whether they work for a University in Kazakhstan, Russia, or the United States.

One corollary of this assumption is the problem of explanation. When an insider writes the history, very many things get left unsaid, too much information and knowledge is assumed on the part of the reader. In addition, their is a common idea that distance creates clinical disinterest. No one may write without bias. Even the Zulu writing about the Sioux, while perhaps not directly biased in the Sioux’s direction, likely shows some preference to another population which faced near extermination at the hands of English-speaking, rifle-bearing invaders from Europe. In this way, I do not assume that because I am not Kazakh, I am the bearer of the sacred sight, free from tendentious favoritism.

This compartmentalization in history seems to come from at least two sources, one of which I think we can resist. Many people are uninterested in “other people’s history.” One simple example is the programming of The History Channel, which even back in its heyday included very little information on peoples and places unknown to its viewers. While the shows may have included new and interesting information on the construction of the Egyptian pyramids or the military techniques of the samurai, the shows did not need to assume total ignorance on their audiences’ part. The History Channel, even then, was hoping to attract viewers — and reminding viewers that they know very little about parts of the world is not attractive. It seems we can find a similar pattern in the school and university curriculum. If knowing what you don’t know is a sign of intelligence, I can intelligently say I know very little about the history of Indonesia, the history of Somalia, the history of Patagonia, the history of Finland, the history of Namibia (notice the focus on the nation/state as the location of history).

“Ah,” you say, “but the history of Finland is a waste of time for students in the United States. It isn’t important, it doesn’t explain anything, there’s only so much time in the schools.”

I agree, to an extent. The point is that with our limited time in school and at university, many devote their time to a politically and culturally expedient study of history. We study Ancient Greece, perhaps, or Enlightenment France, or World War II, because those are “important,” which I take as a synonym for “helping to explain the way the world is.” However, I think we fail our students in this regard, as many things which might explain the world are left unexamined. There is a proclivity to “explain” why America and Europe are the great powers of the world — even when that is no longer the case. In other words, these stories will not help explain why America and Europe are slipping, why they no longer are (or soon will not be) the great powers of the world.

Of course, history as taught in schools in most places in the world serves another goal: the creation of a patriotic and loyal citizenry. The nation and state gave birth to the schools. And the schools, today at least, are where history is born. The creation of professional historians in universities has little to do with the study of history in the schools, however, which is a topic for another post (or rather, another blog).

I am studying the history of the Kazakhs, then, because anyone can study the history of the Kazakhs. I find them interesting because of my personal experiences in Kazakhstan, which came before my interest in the history of the Kazakhs. There are many positive aspects to studying their history which increase my appreciation for this occupation. However, I do not enjoy defending a non-Kazakh’s rights to the study of Kazakh history. If anything, I wish more non-Americans studied the history of the citizens of the United States.

This post is perhaps more rambling than some…

I have several areas where my hobbies and my academic interests intersect. Since childhood I have loved strategy-based board games and other “war” games on the computer or other video game systems. I believe that that is what fuels my continued interest in military history.

My love of Central Asian history and Turkology easily combines with this interest in several areas, including the military techniques and realities of both horse-archers among the steppe nomads and city defense by sedentary populations within Central Asia. These two groups often intersected, as horse archers would often raid other nomadic populations or the cities of the river valleys of Central Asia, while the city defense forces could also be mobilized to attack other cities. I assume, from my understanding of the limitations of early modern military technology, that the forces defending a city’s walls would have little success in marching against a nomadic force in the steppe.

This becomes somewhat complicated by the advent of firearms, both artillery and light arms like muzzle-loading guns. Just in May of this year, I heard an intriguing paper from Professor Scott Levi from the Ohio State University at the CESS/ASEEES conference at Nazarbayev University on “Military Technology and the Early Modern Central Asian State.” The audience learned something of the intricacies surrounding firearm technology, like the move from matchlocks to flintlock guns.

From Prof. Levi’s example, we can see there is still a great amount of research that remains to be done to increase our understanding of Central Asia during the era of the so-called Gunpowder Empires. This term usually applies to the 1300-1600s, the precise era which sees in Europe the replacement of archery and tension-based siege equipment (i.e., trebuchets) with gunpowder-propelled missiles.

What I find on my mind these days is a diversion: how and why did the various military forces and other users of military technology come to abandon the lethal weapons and techniques associated with masses of horse archers for those weapons of the stationary infantry. Specifically, how did firearms and gunpowder replace spears, bows, and edged weapons? In the case of city-centered tactics, especially in densely populated areas of Europe that saw the evolution of warfare move from city- and castle-defense to battlefield-centric wars–in other words, why there are no cities in Europe maintaining walls.

In terms of mastering the nomads, the masses of horse archers proved difficult to conquer. Even when outmatched in numbers or firepower, little prevented warriors from retreating deeper into the grasslands. Camps could be vulnerable, of course, though travelers accounts from the period give the opinion that few foreigners were able to travel in the steppe without the knowledge of outriders, scouts, shepherds, or other far-sighted steppe-dwellers. For those living in the open fields, the bow and arrow had several advantages — but were not without cost.

The bow and arrow could be produced locally, given the presence of those with the skills necessary and the time to prepare the necessary materials. Susceptible to damage from humidity, the bows of the steppe did not travel well outside the continental climate of Eurasia–in areas of high humidity, like Mughal India, steel bows traded in power and flexibility for increased effectiveness in humid environments. However, despite their relative weakness in wet climates, in their home territory the bows offered devastating penetrating force in a deceptively small package. While the famous English Longbow or Japanese Yumi could penetrate armor with ease, its users could not fire it in motion, let alone on horseback. This is not to say that the English and Japanese did not ever mount archers — but by numbers and strategic importance, mounted archery did not dominate other military techniques.

The superiority of the Eurasian bows came from its design, being both “recurve” and “reflex.” In the steppe, the experience of the Russian Empire in the 18th and 19th centuries seemed to prove that conquest was only achievable by taking control of the cities “supporting” the nomads of the interior. Perhaps more than archery itself, the lifestyle of the nomads protected them from the necessity of meeting the Russian forces in any battle not of their choosing. From what I have read, however, the Russians seemed convinced of their superiority in terms of military force and civilization. Still, many observers mentioned with respect the bravery and athletic ability of the “natives” of the steppe and mountains south of Moscow. From the “steppe” of the American prairie comes an intriguing example of the interplay between early muzzle-loading firearms and archery:

[Viceroy Bernardo de] Galvez authorized [in his Instructions for Governing the Interior Provinces of New Spain] the sale of firearms to Indians, arguing that the use of guns would weaken Indians’ fighting ability, because the muzzle-loading rifle was less effective than the bow, which “is always ready to use.” [His Instructions] specified that guns should have “weak bolts without the best temper” and long barrels, which would “make them awkward for long rides on horseback, resulting in continuing damages and repeated need for mending or replacement.” This… would make the Natives dependent on the Spaniards for repairs and replacements. When Indians “begin to lose their skill in handling the bow,” he predicted, they would not only lose their military edge; to keep themselves continually supplied with guns, powder, and shot, “they would be forced to seek our friendship and aid.”¹

¹ Pekka Hämäläinen, The Comanche Empire. Yale University Press, 2008: 131-132. The cited material comes from Galvez, Bernardo de. Instructions for Governing the Interior Provinces of New Spain 1786, translated and edited by Donald Worcester. Berkeley: Quivira Society, 1951: 48-49.

Here I see two interesting points. The first is that archery and firearms could meaningfully coincide and compete with each other. The second is that the former was actually perceived by some Western observers as superior to the latter.

I can also add that the tactics of the Spanish government representatives did not seem so effective, since “After… about 1800, most Comanches began to discard muskets and pistols and to rely on their older weapons.”² The demise of the ability of Comanche’s to maintain their autonomy came now with the arrival of gunpowder, therefore, but much later — and the causes were more likely demographic and economic than force of arms. This is especially interesting when one considers that the Comanches apparently lacked anything similar to the reflex or recurve technologies for their bows. Perhaps this was because the bow was still a relatively recent invention, as up until 1500 years before the present, the peoples of the Americas used the atl-atl. If the peoples of the North American plains had had horses throughout the last 3000 years, one wonders if there would have been any bison remaining when the Europeans arrived — but that kind of “what-if” serves almost no purpose.

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² T.R. Fehrenbach. Comanches, the history of a people. 1974: 125.

First, a digression: several centuries ago, the English language was quite a different beast. I love to look through the entries at the online etymological dictionary for insights into the changing vocabulary of English as a means to getting at the change in thinking patterns over time. Many times it is the most mundane or boring words that have the most interesting entries. A good example is the entry for “the.”

For the study of history in particular I find interesting the evolution of the words “event” and “accident,” which at one point were very close in meaning.

Event (Latin – Eventus: ex- “out”  + venire “to come”)
Accident (Latin – Accidens. accidere:  ad- “to” + cadere “fall”)

Both could be used to refer to “something that happens,” but over time accident came to have the added meaning of “by chance.” Though rare, this older meaning does persist in some phrases, like “accident of history.” Of course, there are other meanings to consider: a car accident for one, and the philosophical accident (sometimes accidence) of Aristotle for another. In the Russian language, however, these three meanings do not belong to the same word and only the philosophical meaning is a cognate with English (Aкциденция, or Aktsidentsiia).

The reason I find this interesting is how providence or chance manifested itself in the one word and not the other. Historical events have actors, planners, executives, members, participants — while historical accidents have participants, but not necessarily knowledgeable participants. To be fair, both historical events and accidents have victims. This difference in connotation I think is useful to discussing the measurement and judgment of historical actions and outcomes.

I enjoy anecdotes about people in “historical situations” as much as anyone, when someone recalls being in or near a certain place at the specific time when a memorable “event” or “accident” occurred. However, I believe that most of these events are measured for their importance after the fact and the chance participants are later asked to account for the momentous nature of the occasion. There seem to be two outcomes in terms of anecdotes, the first I find most convincing:
1) “No one knew at that time, but later we realized just what it meant…”
2) “Of course no one knew at the time, but one could feel that something big was going on…” 

This is my setup for a discussion of “after the fact” history.

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I paraphrase Chase Robinson when I write that a large part of understanding early Kazakh history requires coming to grips with how, as Kazakh identity emerged, oral traditions were complemented and, to some extent, replaced by written history. The transformation of story to history is conditioned not only by record keeping. Religious and national/ethnic attitudes play a role as well.

Chase Robinson showcases this tendency by directly comparing early Islam with early Christianity. The early Christians were most concerned with Christ’s resurrection and its implications. The early Muslims were most concerned with Muḥammad’s career as God’s final messenger. Consider the difference in these simple statements: the wheres, whys, and who-said-whats of Christ’s prophetic career were (and are) of secondary importance to Christians, which is why any attempts to recreate the final years of Christ’s life (or any years of life) rely on conjecture and contradictory accounts. Belief in Muḥammad’s prophecy defined Muslims in start contrast to the other prophets that lived among the Hebrews, all of whom struggled with the disbelief and doubt of their constituents. The Muslims stand out as actually realizing a messenger of God walked among them during the lifespan of the prophet.

However, Chase Robinson points out that both of these communities (early Christians and Muslims) very quickly ran into doubters and skeptics, whose arguments had to be addressed. “How do we know that theirs was God’s work?” The community of believers squabbled amongst themselves as they wrestled with these questions, the importance of which they knew to be secondary. But – the questions were answered, because they had to be, and “early Christians and early Muslims eventually came to tell the whole story.¹”

What they could not remember they duly provided in the form of legends, myths, conjectures and reasonable guesses, all about things that they had no real memory of, since they had not really mattered before. This explains why Gospel accounts of Jesus’ birth, which were first set down about two generations after His death, are so much less reliable as history than accounts of his Passion; while Mark and Acts reflect earlier views and say nothing of Jesus’ birth, Matthew and Luke do, because these two later writers saw in it an opportunity to grind theological axes. This is also why Muslim historians began to fill in details of Muhammad’s pre-prophetic career, proposing a number of inconsistent solutions to a variety of academic questions. In what kind of caravan trade were the Quraysh involved on the eve of Islam? Where and when did these caravans travel? How old, exactly, was Muḥammad at the time of his father’s death?

¹ Chase F. Robinson, Islamic Historiography. Cambridge University Press, 2003, pp. 8-17

I would only suggest one change to Robinson’s argument in this chapter. He writes, “for most Christian and Muslim historians, the purpose of history was generally not to test, probe or explain, nor to provide an accounting for all events that correspond precisely with what had once happened.” I would alter this ever so slightly be removing the qualifiers ‘Christian and Muslim,’ since it seems to me that “most historians” throughout history had other purposes for writing, including the modern era, the American academy of historians, and even the author of this blog. It’s difficult to articulate the ultimate causes for our actions, but suggesting that it is a love of objective history is confusing and not very convincing.

In short, much of what makes studying the Bare Footed Flight for my dissertation exciting is placing two problems against each other. The first problem is finding and understanding contemporary early 18th-century sources describing the destruction of the Kazakhs at the hands of the Dzhungar/Junghar/Жоңғар. The second problem is following how these sources survive and change as the importance of those same events alters over time. In other words, the answer to the question “What did the events of the early 1720s mean?” changed many times in the following centuries — and the changes in that meaning offer a lot of useful information for the study of the region from 1700 to the present.

This post represents a thought process and maybe some conjectures.

In various historical sources pertaining to the history of the Russian Empire prior to 1900, the means of travel are often obscured in secondary and tertiary sources (monographs, textbooks, articles, etc.), which would explain why this conjecture struck me as being partially novel. However, earlier scholars (Russian and American) have published much research on this very topic, at least tangentially. For example, one need look only as far as Wikipedia to learn the basics of Siberian River Travel. There is at least a superficial similarity between Russian settlement in Siberia and that found in Canada: a vast wilderness sparsely inhabited except for a long narrow corridor near the southern border with extensions northward through arable land and mineral deposits.

I have the impression that Russians tended to expand and move through new territory primarily via domination of rivers and river travel, while the lands through which they traveled tended to be previously dominated by horse travel (in the steppe zones) and foot and snow-shoe travel (in the taiga). I have a modest number of examples:

1. The Yermak Expedition, aka the so-called Conquest of Siberia (1580) (Failed)
2. Gradual Conquest of Siberia through establishment of portage/river forts (ostrogi) (1580-1650)
3. The Semyon Dezhnev Expedition (Arctic Coast) (1648)
4. The Bekovich-Cherkassky Expedition to Khiva (1717-1718) (Failed – wiped out by Khivans)
5. The Bukholts Expedition (1716-1717) (Failed – wiped out by Junghars)
6. The Orenburg Expedition (1734-35) (Besieged by Bashkirs, Orenburg construction abandoned)

A better understanding of the Russian river navy represents a possible avenue of research in this regard. The Cossacks were primarily river raiders, or perhaps there is a dual nature to the Cossack existence (river raiding versus horse raiding). In any event, I submit it is no accident that the Cossacks have long been categorized by their river of habitation: Don, Dnieper, Kuban, Terek, Ural/Yaik, Amur, Baikal, Semirechie, etc. The river boats used by the Don Cossacks (strugiand chaiki) are rather famous in specific historical battles, but not generally understood as part of a larger system of Cossack identity and culture. The strug apparently excelled in river combat, carrying several dozen men; the chaika apparently being designed for river deltas and coastal raiding in the Black Sea. Though specific historical evidence eludes me, Wikipedia claims that each chaika would carry several small-bore cannons for ship-to-ship combat (i.e., falconets). Larger sea-worthy ships similar to cogs, known as baidak, allowed for less militant trade actions along the shores of the Black Sea. Naturally, any ship can be pressed into military service — especially for use ferrying supplies and munitions.

My primary thought was that such a tactic allowed the Russians to use their strengths (previous contact and collaboration with Cossacks, dominance of river transport, etc.) to counter their weaknesses (passage through hostile territory, steppe combat, etc.). In many cases, the Russians were attacked primarily on land when their wagon trains and supply lines were poorly defended. In some cases, the original inhabitants attacked in strength adequate to threaten and destroy Russian fortifications.

One should not make light of the fact that as a conquering army, the Russians rarely faced pitched battles against organized opponents. The military forces utilized by the original inhabitants were more haphazard, though many fought to the death in defense of their land. Tales of Russian brutality and slaughter also inspired resistance and hatred, even among those supposedly under Russia’s domain:

In northern Bashkiria Tevkelev was in danger. The rebels laid an ambush for his detachment at a narrow defile along the Ai River. The plot was discovered beforehand; but when the inhabitants of the village where Tevkelev’s party was located discovered the ambush had failed, they planned to massacre the troops while they were sleeping. This surprise failed too. Only a few men were wounded before the alarm was sounded and the Russians turned the tables, surrounded the village, and captured all the inhabitants, except for a few who escaped into the woods. Some 1,000 of the villagers, including women and children, were shot or put to the sword by the dragoons, Meshcheriaks, and Bashkirs who served in the Russian forces. Another 500 were driven into a storehouse and burned to death. “And thus,” wrote Rychkov, “the entire village of Seiantusa and its inhabitants, including women and children both small and great, was destroyed in one night by fire and sword, and the settlement was burned to ashes.”

The next day Tevkelev moved his forces to a Meshcheriak village, and after a conference with his subordinates dispatched several parties to take revenge. Approximately fifty Bashkir villages were burned, about 2,000 Bashkirs killed, those who remained alive were executed, and the wives and children were distributed to the troops.

(Donnelly, The Russian Conquest of Bashkiria, Chapter 6: The Orenburg Expedition)

In short, it seems many of the most terrifying uses of force involved neither boats nor horses. It should be noted, however, that Tevkelev and his forces had come to the area by boat and were acting in response to raids against Russian supply-wagons.

Here’s a thought – let’s use the family as a model for teaching history. I’m speaking as a citizen of the United States, though I believe this model could be useful elsewhere as well.

Let’s take for our example the hypothetically average student. He or she belongs to an “average” family of mom, dad, 2.5 kids, and a dog/cat. It’s probable they may have a step-parent, perhaps some half- or step-siblings. Let’s then assume the biological and non-biological mom and dad have 3.5 siblings each. Though marriage isn’t for everyone, perhaps more than half of those people themselves have a spouse or more with 2.5 kids of their own. Though your student probably doesn’t know them so well, their grandparents likely also had siblings, probably at least 4.5 each.

Let’s step back and visualize this in another way.

Our student has his brother and a dog or cat. This student also has a bunch of cousins, aunts, uncles, and at least four grandparents. Some amount of these people have sadly already passed away. Perhaps some are long dead, even some of them may be in prison. Once you add in the extended family of the grandparents, your student has some unknown mass of second cousins.

More likely, your average student is aware mostly of their aunts, uncles, and first cousins. Well, some of their first cousins, though not necessarily of all their first-cousins once-removed. It is unlikely that your student is on a first name basis with all of the cousins of their parents. Any, most, or all of this vast array of people could be living in one town, fifty towns; one country or five countries; one language/culture or two or even three different languages/cultures. This country is supposedly a melting pot, after all.

Perhaps this is the typical American family – though of course, there are those who are not only only-children, but the single child of only-children, having no aunts, uncles, or cousins. However, that is pretty unlikely, and eventually everyone has cousins, be they second, third, or fourth cousins.

Quick Note on Cousins: In English we have a limited vocabulary compared to other languages for distinguishing relatives. Even the vocabulary we do have is under-used and often misunderstood. A “first cousin once removed” to you would be how you refer to the children of your first cousins and also how you would refer to first cousins of your parents. An example is to imagine that your favorite cousin Jim has a child. That child, let’s call him Teddy, is Jim’s son. Jim is your first cousin, but little Teddy is your first cousin once removed. Similarly, if your dad is really close with his cousin Jill, she is also your first cousin, once removed. If you want to be more specific, you would describe her as your first cousin, once removed, on your father’s side. This still doesn’t explain to your listener which type she is (child of cousin or cousin of parent), but the context usually makes this clear. Again, there are other languages that handle this situation with fewer words and less confusion.

In short, family relations are just about the most confusing thing to talk about and explain, yet the vast majority of humanity has them in abundance.

My thought is to use this to our advantage in teaching history.

Your student with their typical family — they are sitting in your history class in High School or at college. Ask this student to imagine the people in their family – even better, have them draw a “family tree” as best they can, including as many relations as they can handle, including first cousins, even once or twice removed cousins where they are known. Get aunts and uncles in there, step-parents and half-siblings, Uncle Thomas who was really a foundling, plus grandparents, great-grandparents, whatever they can handle. Some students will have tiny family trees and others might have gigantic ones. For a learning experience, perhaps have them make one family tree in class and then have them turn in a “complete” or “official” family tree at the end of the semester with birth and death dates for as many people as they can manage. Ask them to be as clinical as possible in both cases, understanding that death, sickness, and time are working on all of our family trees.

Now that your student has this gigantic cast of characters, have him or her attempt to create some general narrative of their family history, focusing on their own “pedigree.” This is the super simple family tree, from parent to child. Build from that story using stories they have heard about their parents’ childhood. Perhaps they can write some notes about how mom and dad met, their courtship and marriage(s), various children, occupations, economic-social class, religious affiliations and hobbies, focuses and personal beliefs. This should be fairly easy and also allow the student to explain some of their own feelings and personal beliefs, positive and negative, allowing that everyone’s family has the capacity to cripple and amaze, to disgust and inspire.

At this point, have them pick a cousin of the same generation they know pretty well and explain how their view of the family is probably different. Then put themselves in an uncle’s shoes, or that of their cousin, once removed on their father’s side. It becomes more difficult as they have to rely more and more on hearsay and publicly available documents. Even more so, they will notice that as they consider their relatives with their varying military, occupational, and religious backgrounds, their own likely values and beliefs may change in both expected and unexpected ways.

In a large family, one member may best explain their relatives according to their duties and a sense of honor lived in service to one’s country or community. For another member, the socioeconomic status and ability to rise past or maintain the station of the parent is more important. For another, the trials and tribulations of health and family trouble are best explained through devotion to certain values, beliefs, and religious affiliations.

History is much the same way – some historians are most interested in Military History, others in Economic History, still others in Anthropological or Sociological discussions of rituals and practices and their explicit and implicit meanings. Not only that, but these categories are leaky and fungible, so that Uncle Frank sees the world both through military service and devotion to various organizations, though he may not articulate such so clearly. In fact, when he was younger, he focused more on technology and a sense of progress, while those considerations are not as meaningful to him now.

Family relations are a rich source of didactic models and history as the story we tell ourselves about the world around us can learn much. It also allows the student-historian to practice self-reflection and to see the difficulty of “walking in another’s shoes.” If you can attempt to see where and how you fail to visualize the inside of your mother’s head, you will be all the better prepared to imagine historical figures of another gender, time, or culture than your own.

In this post I will offer a few lighthearted challenges some common concepts and ideologies that I have encountered during my education. This is not to say that I perceive a deeper knowledge inside my own brain than exists in the outside world, but only that one should be able to throw certain logical queries at the accepted notions of academia from time to time. In the case of my previous post on Orientalism, I certainly concede that the popularity of Said’s remarks is based in some part on the attractiveness of the argument and its perceived suitability to the purposes of other thinkers. However, I see the infrastructure of the argument as  irreparably flawed in its basic assumptions.

Nomadism as a concept seems somewhat similar to Orientalism to me. Semantically, it serves as short-hand to identify and explain certain characteristics. The nomad is differentiated from the non-nomad, in other words. The non-nomad is much less often the target of a blanket definition, but when such occurs, the term used tends to be sedentary, or some synonym of the same.

I have the unfortunate hobby of etymology lodged in my consciousness. For that reason I will share the following data:

• The word nomad is attested in the English language from the 16th century, coming from Latin via French. In Latin the term was Nomas in the nominative and Nomadis in the genitive – hence we have the word nomad from misunderstood Latin grammar; alternatively, it could be blamed on poor Greek, which followed the same (nomas in the nominative, nomados in the genitive, nomades in the plural). The term in Greek is given the definition “roaming, roving, wandering” and connected to reconstructed Proto-Indo-European *nem-, meaning to divide, allot, or distribute. This is important as the word originally included the conception of ownership, division, and the importance of land; this in contrast to later characterizations that nomads had no connection to the land.
• The word sedentary is similarly attested from the 16th century in English, coming again from Latin via French. In Latin the term sedentarius (sitting/remaining in one place) is easily connected to the reconstructed Proto-Indo-European *sed-, meaning to sit.
• Modern Kazakh generally uses the word koshpendi (Көшпендi) to translate the English word nomad, a practice that predates claims that Kazakh had no word for the concept. I do not know how long the Kazakh language has had this word in its lexicon, but the root meaning is clearly old. In fact, the root (көш/коч) also gives the Russian word for nomad, kochevnik (Кочевник). The verb in question (көшеу/кўчмок) appears in dictionaries as “to move, to migrate, to relocate.” The word is similar in Uzbek: ko’chmanchi.

Etymology is a fun aside, but the deeper problem is what we are attempting to explain with the terminology. From a scientific perspective, the term has been replaced with more specific terminology not yet in common public use; these terms tend to explicitly describe the primary economic occupation of some critical mass within the defined population. In other words, while some percentage of those people previously labeled as nomads did indeed practice a specific type of economy generally requiring frequent shifting of camp to renew the pastureland of livestock, the economies of the people involved were much more complex. Moreover, the various economies of nomadic people differed the point of the word not adequately explaining differences between nomadic populations in different geographic areas. In other words, the nomads of the Sahara Desert are not similar enough to the historical nomadic populations of the Volga region to truly warrant using the same term for both.

Another issue is what, exactly, the term is supposed to tell us about the people thus labeled. Are nomads possessed of a different life outlook in a uniform way different from that of non-nomadic people? History has shown again and again that sedentary people are just as likely to pull up and migrate to new locations; similarly, nomads in various locations are characterized by the regular return to family-owned pasture locations. In addition, many nomadic people have historically been involved in non-livestock herding economies, providing labor for fishing, mining, trading, and other endeavors within their vicinity.

What, then, does calling a people “nomadic” achieve for the historian? Will this explain their actions in a useful way? Are nomadic people blood-thirsty savages that do not share a similar level of civilization (however that might be ascertained) with their sedentary neighbors? Many gallons of ink have been spilled in the cause of just such assumptions, but such crude characterizations of “exotic” populations have become less common. Other assumptions have lasted longer due to their sophistication. For example, that nomads are uninterested in land rights, or at least less so than non-nomads. Similarly, nomads have specific gender-norms that are different from those of sedentary people. Again, nomads practice religion in ways inherently different from non-nomads.

I would challenge any such assumption and would rather we remove the term “nomad” from all but the most general of characterizations to imply regular movement of people. Let us know that knowing this little fact about the changing of addresses will explain the intricacies of their societies. Nomads need not have inherently different political systems: a “nomad” king is different how, exactly, from a “sedentary” king? A “nomadic”democracy is different how, exactly, from a “sedentary” democracy?

Let us challenge such terms the moment they appear.