In September, Pope Francis marked a historic event by becoming the first Catholic Church leader to visit Mongolia. This visit was indeed humbling, especially considering that Mongolia hosts fewer than 1,500 Catholics. The welcoming ceremony took place in Ulaanbaatar’s main square, drawing just a few hundred spectators—a notably smaller crowd than the thousands who turned out for him in Lisbon the previous month. Interestingly, one attendee stated he had come out for his morning Tai Chi and unwittingly stumbled into the event.

The purpose of the Pope’s visit was not clear to everyone. A caterer serving the Vatican entourage curiously asked a reporter, “What are Catholics again?” Yet, Pope Francis arrived well-prepared. In his speeches to diplomats, cultural leaders, and the President of Mongolia, he praised the religious freedoms established during the Mongol Empire in the 13th and 14th centuries. He highlighted the Mongolian ancestors’ remarkable skill in acknowledging diverse cultures and fostering communal development. The Pope also touched upon “the Pax Mongolica,” a period of stability enforced by the Mongols, emphasizing its significance in promoting peace and respecting international laws.

Previous Christians might have found a stark contrast in Francis’s account. The first recorded mention of the Mongols in Western Europe came from a Benedictine monk in 1240, who described them as a “detestable race of Satan,” seemingly bloodthirsty and savage. Just five years later, Pope Innocent IV expressed his astonishment at the Mongols’ invasions, which wrought devastation upon both Christian and non-Christian lands.

Certainly, Muslims also viewed the Mongols as brutal invaders. The violent sack of Baghdad by Hulagu Khan in 1258 left streets filled with corpses and led to the destruction of the esteemed House of Wisdom, marking a disastrous decline in the Islamic Golden Age. In November 2002, Osama bin Laden even claimed that George H. W. Bush’s administration had been more destructive than “Hulagu of the Mongols.” In a similar vein, Saddam Hussein compared the U.S. and its allies to “the Mongols of this age” in the lead-up to the Iraq War.

Such brutal depictions of the Mongols have endured through history. In one play by Voltaire, they are portrayed as “wild sons of rapine” intent on turning a once-great empire into a barren wasteland. Today, Genghis Khan’s name has unfortunately become synonymous with tyranny. Referring to politicians as being “to the right of Genghis Khan” has become a common cliché. The concept of the “Mongol-Tatar yoke” in Russia and Eastern Europe not only signifies Mongol rule but also represents various forms of despotism. Recently, Ukrainian political consultant Aleksandr Kharebin used this phrase to characterize Putin’s regime.

However, Pope Francis was not alone in challenging these long-standing stereotypes. “We have too readily accepted the stereotype of supremely violent Mongols,” states Marie Favereau in her book “The Horde: How the Mongols Changed the World” (Harvard). Favereau’s work adds to several recent volumes—such as Kenneth W. Harl’s “Empires of the Steppes,” Anthony Sattin’s “Nomads,” and Nicholas Morton’s “The Mongol Storm”—advocating for a deeper understanding of nomadic peoples, particularly the Mongols. This body of work strives to reposition the Mongols not as brutal conquerors but as sophisticated administrators supporting commerce, debate, and religious pluralism.

This shift in perspective reflects a broader scholarly movement known as the global turn, which seeks to redefine histories away from nationalistic narratives and colonialist biases to embrace narratives of interconnectedness. It acknowledges the complexities of nomadic cultures, painting them as societies rich with their histories that shaped the world we know today. Instead of viewing them merely as stereotypes of barbarism, this approach sees them as cultured peoples, contributing to the fabric of human history.