Customer Reviews

The Bloody White Baron: The Extraordinary Story of the Russian Nobleman Who Became the Last Khan of Mongolia

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As a college student and a history major I was attracted to this title by reading the glowing review that it received in the New York Times Book Review (Yes, there is somebody under 25 who still reads newspapers). I was not disappointed.
This book tells the story of Baron Roman von Ungern-Sternberg, a Russian born Baltic German (from what is now Estonia) who becomes an officer in the army of the Russian Empire. After a series of disastrous starts in the Russo-Japanese war, World War I and the Russian Revolution. He flees to Mongolia and helps them win independence from China. He meets his eventual demise at the hands of the Soviets. Although he is insane and horrendously tortures his troops, he managed for a long time keep them together and for a short time became the last Khan of Mongolia.
Author, James Palmer, writes so vividly that you would swear that you are on the battlefield with Ungern when he is laying siege to Urga (now Ulaanbaatar). Not many people know that for a long time Mongolia was controlled by China and that Siberia was a battlefield for the Russian revolution against the Bolsheviks and the Whites. At times this book is wrenching though never boring. I am looking forward to Palmer's next book.

Baron Roman Ungern Von Sternberg is one of those peripheral characters who always gets brought up in passing: he's too colorful to overlook, but arguably too minor to warrant extensive coverage. He was name-dropped in Robert Edgerton's Warriors of the Rising Sun, Peter Hopkirk's Setting the East Ablaze, David Mitchell's 1919: Red Mirage and Richard Luckett's The White Generals, to name just a few of the books I'd encountered him in. The Mad Baron was overdue for a full-length biography, and James Palmer brings him to vivid and grisly life.

The Bloody Baron was a nobleman of German descent, who early on revealed a predilection for violence and sadism - and an interest in Eastern mysticism. He had a fairly successful military career, decorated for service in the Russo-Japanese War and World War I, and found himself on the White side of the Russian Civil War, fighting for the restoration of the Tsar. Already showing a penchant for violence, he was dispatched to Mongolia in the waning days of the conflict, converting to Buddhism, raising a rag-tag multi-national army and conquering Mongolia amidst much bloodshed. His disastrous administration and the encroachment of the Red Army only convinced Ungern to greater ambition - to try and recreate Genghis Khan's Mongol Empire and extirpate Jews and Bolsheviks.

Palmer ably shows two salient points about Ungern: that he was very much a product of his time, and that he was a harbinger of things to come. As horrifying as Ungern's pogroms and atrocities were, in a sense, they were a logical (or illogical) extension of one of the cruellest wars in history. For all his appalling cruelty, Ungern was a piker compared to other leaders, Red and White, in more powerful positions. In fact, the Reds, in "liberating" Mongolia from Ungern, would commit far worse crimes than his short-lived regime. The primary appeal is not Ungern's atrocities, but his sheer weirdness: a demented Russian nobleman with a personal religion. He has few redeeming features as such, but remains a gruesomely compelling figure throughout.

What made Ungern unique and dangerous, however, was his ideology: a curious blend of anti-Semitism, Nietzschean superman rhetoric, vaguely-defined occult mysticism and absurd megalomania, he was a clear precursor of the Nazis, who indeed venerated Urgern as a heroic precursor to Hitler. Palmer does make the point that Ungern had no deep understanding of Buddhism per se, but he had enough appeal to garner him thousands of devoted followers, and the love of a nation (apparently, he's still worshipped by some Mongolians). And just twenty years later, the world would be driven to the verge of destruction by a frighteningly similar ideology.

Palmer does a fine job introducing the reader to Mongolia in general, and in particular a branch of Buddhism that endorses violence and mayhem. This is a fascinating topic, largely swept under the rug in the West, where Buddhism is seen as a benign force. Palmer shows this is an incredibly patronizing and limited view: Ungern's crimes were unique mostly for their being perpetrated by a European. He does a slightly-lesser job of depicting Tsarist and Revolutionary Russia, which is perhaps forgivable since it's not his area of expertise.

As a writer, Palmer provides fine prose, with vivid descriptions of towns, set pieces and miitary campaigns. He has a fascinating subject matter and cuts through the veils of myth and distortion to make Urgern a credible (if still horrific) character. His biggest failing is his attempts at psychohistory, telling us to "imagine" certain key scenes in Ungern's life. That sort of "insight" should be saved for a novelist, or at least someone better-qualified than Palmer.

Despite some flaws, The Bloody White Baron is a fascinating - and frightening - book. Monsters always make for fascinating history, and the Mad Baron provides a particularly interesting case of how vicious and depraved humans can be.

The life of Baron Ungern-Sternberg was indeed a gruesome adventure of unbelieveable proportions, therefore, it is difficult for any portrait of such an man to be dull. Palmer's account is fascinating, and he goes to great lengths to give readers sufficient background in the situation of the Far East in the early 1900s, as well as offering a glimpse into Mongolian culture, Buddhist spirituality, and Russian mysticism; all of which had a significant impact on the Baron's career.

Unfortunately, Palmer's book is far from perfect. Given the fact that the Baron's rise to infamy in the Transbaikal and Mongolia was enabled by the outbreak of the Russian Civil War, one would think that Palmer would strive for accuracy when referring to the greater conflict which Ungern-Sternberg was a part of. Instead, the reader is informed that there were prominent officials in Admiral Kolchak's government in 1917 (p. 183), Baron Vrangel evacuated his men from the Crimea in November of 1919 (p. 115), and one of Ungern-Sternberg's worst sadists, Colonel Sipailov, was present at the murders of the Irkutsk hostages on Lake Baikal on January 6, 1919 (p. 114). In reality, Kolchak's government was not formed until November of 1918, Baron Vrangel evacuated the Crimea in November of 1920, and the massacre on the icebreaker in Lake Baikal occurred in January of 1920, not 1919. Apparently, both the author and the editors could have benefited greatly from a basic history of the Russian Civil War which, not surprisingly, is missing in the book's bibliography. After detecting such errors on a subject I am familar with sprinkled throughout the book, I naturally questioned how many other errors were present on events newer to me, such as Mongolian struggle for independence, which I might be unable to detect.

The errors aside, Palmer's account is readable and covers a personality and events which are all but ignored by most modern histories. That is fortunate for Palmer, since a more carefully crafted account on Ungern-Sternberg could quite possibly displace his work in many libraries.

I would wager that most people with even a bit more than a superficial knowledge of the Russian Civil War know little about the clutch of short-lived states that sprung up in opposition to the Bolsheviks before being overwhelmed by them. I would also wager that even fewer of them had never heard of the enigmatic Baron Ungern-Sternberg until now. Part of what makes history interesting to me is learning about obscure events that mean little by themselves but which are often helpful in understanding the eventual trajectory of the "big picture" that students are taught as settled history in the classroom. We all know the eventual outcome of the war between the Bolsheviks and their opponents, but without Ungern-Sternberg, what would have been the eventual Russian involvement in Mongolia, if any, and would 20th century Mongolian history have been a happier one?
In The Bloody White Baron, author James Palmer paints the portrait of an obstinate petty aristocratic misfit who failed at everything he attempted until he finally found his "place" serving the czar in the Far East. Kind of reminds me of the early struggles of Reinhard Heydrich who was very much of a similar bent as the Baron. While commanding in the east on the frontiers of empire, the Baron mixes Orthodox Christianity with an interest in Mongolian and Tibetan Buddhism along with an assortment of other somewhat esoteric beliefs to become the scourage Palmer tells us about. Nearly everyone knows about the murderous rule of Hitler, Stalin, Pol Pot, Mao Zedong because they are well documented. But how many other tyrants like Ungern-Sternberg have escaped historical scrutiny because their depredations occurred in remote places? In this book, I learned of several others like the pudgy little runt Khorloogin Choibalsan whose later mass murders in Mongolia at Stalin's behest went almost unreported in the press.
After reading about all the casual violence rampant in the far east before, during, and after the time of Ungern-Sternberg I paused in wonder that there are any people left in the area today. Unfortunately, along with some others, I note some sloppy editing and therefore a few glaring errors of fact in the text. But overall, Palmer's story of Ungern-Sternberg is a riveting spotlight on a historical backwater. If you enjoy history that is almost stranger than fiction, then The Bloody White Baron is a book that is calling your name.

Here's what I expected: a solid historical investigation of a legendary, near mythical figure. That's exactly what the book delivers, along with great sense of time and place. I felt passably knowledgeable about the era, the people and the challenges they faced.

Here's what I didn't expect: that humans could be capable of such messy and hands on cruelty - to call it barbarism does a disservice to barbarians; that this almost fantastical, otherworldly kind of cruelty existed just a short 100 years ago; and that Buddhism, even a fractured kind of Buddhism, could have such violence and fear at its heart.

It's quick and illuminating read, but that which is brought to light is very dark indeed.

I first encountered this book in the British edition, and its good to see that it can reach an American audience now. I've been fascinated by this period of Mongolian history ever since I found a musty old copy of Ossendowski's Beasts, Men and Gods in a used bookstore years ago, so I was very happy to find a new look at those times in this book. Finding sources or historical writing on this period is difficult, at least here in the US, since Outer Mongolia almost seems to be a fictitious country in itself. Fortunately, James Palmer has travelled the East and waded through the various scraps and pieces of its history and pulled together a picture of a fascinating, if horrendous, figure who stamped his mark upon the era. Ossendowski's book, while purportedly true, reads like a pulp adventure novel, and his account of Baron Ungern certainly makes a modern reader believe that he must have been made up. Not so, of course, even though the picture that Palmer is able to put together of the man in some ways seems even more extreme. The Baron, or Bloody Baron, or Bloody Mad Baron, as he has variously been called, was all too real a person, and his insane, murderous actions were all too common during this period.

There is a perception in the modern West that Buddhism is perhaps unique amongst the world's major faiths in not lending itself to the kinds of wars and conflicts that, for example, Christianity and Islam have been such prominent players in. And while its certainly true that Buddhism has been a relatively peaceful religion, history, and certainly this history, shows how even the dharma can be turned towards violence, and how ethnic divisions, superstitions and unjust conditions can be exploited by cunning leaders to turn even the most peaceful doctrine into a permission for bloody conflict. Ungern was a curious mix of Christian, occultist and mystical Buddhist wannabe, driven by a belief in prophecy and armoring himself with magical charms (who can say they didn't work? He certainly never took a bullet on the battlefield with those charms hanging from his neck). In some ways the template for the kind of Aristocratic European Occultist that would later become such a stock character by way of the Nazis, his life and exploits make for fascinating reading, even if only as a cautionary tale about the kind of beast that wars and prejudice can create out of man.

My only complaint about this book is the lack of photographs. The author describes a number of photos of the Baron at various points in his story, but none of them are included outside of the dust jacket. I hope the publisher can add these in future editions.

Holy Cow, was this guy, uh, different! In addition to concluding that it probably would be best not to have the Baron as a house guest for fear he would organize the neighborhood children into a death squad, one has to marvel at the research that went into this fascinating look at the exotic and incredibly bloody conflicts that occurred on the Russian Revolution's "eastern front" and at the man who for a brief time was the prime mover in them. If I have one bone to pick with Author Palmer, it's his failure to include any photographs of the Baron while alluding to their existence with distressing frequency. As his attempted descriptions implicitly concede, words cannot do justice to the man's exotically forbidding appearance, yet we are deprived of the photographic evidence. Most frustrating. Having said that, the book is a terrific read about the type of man who comes along not once in a lifetime, but once in a millennium...if that. Thoroughly entertaining.

By the end of this book I knew very little more about Baron Ungern than I did when I began reading it.

I did, however, learn enough about that bloody epoch in Russian history between the abdication of Czar Nicholas and the early days of the Soviet Empire to stimulate my interest in learning more.

Summing up, I find myself in complete agreement with Mr. Daniel Raphael, who wrote in his 14 April 2009 review that, "The author does his best to flesh out a story that is real but lacking in much reliable documentation."

This is a good book about one of the worst villains in modern time. It is a fun to read and sometimes very gruesome. The author does a good job at keeping the reader excited and wit is sometimes hard to put down. I strongly recommend this book to anyone that is interested in Ungern or the Russian Civil war.

This is a fascinating book about a character I had never heard of. The story itself is so odd the while reading this book I felt like I was actually reading some strange fantasy novel instead of history. What made me realize that it was history was the fact that there were only villans in this story, there are no heroes here.

Baron Ungern was a Russian officer in the last days of the Tsarist empire. He was a interested mystical philosophies. After the fall of the Tsar and the Red coup he joined the forces fighting the communist forces in Russia. As the communist forces began to succeed he left Russia and went to Mongolia. There he threw out the Chinese occupiers. He then tried to lay the groundwork for a renewed Mongolian empire. His plans were eventually thwarted and he was captured and executed by the communist forces.

While the previous paragraph gives a brief outline it does little to convey the strange and fascinating story that unfolds in the pages of the book. For those of us in the west who are taught nothing about this part of the world and little at all about this period of history it is truly eye opening. Palmer lays out a great deal of information to bring the background of this story to life. His own knowledge of the area helps to illuminate many parts of the book. His wit is the typically dry British style. He paints a vivid picture of Tibetan/Mongolian buddhism. His portrait is honest, painfully so with those of us only familiar with the Hollywood version.

The stories of brutality by all sides in this story is enough to make one's hair stand on end. With the fall and the discrediting of communism it is now possible to air the truth about what happened in much of the world that suffered under its tyranny. The epilogue of the book, which covers the period of Mongolia after the communist takeover, shows the extreme brutality and cultural rape that accompanied that system.
The book is well written and the topic is fascinating. As a historian I regret that there is not more source material on this subject. This is not the fault of the author, rather it is the simple absence of much reliable original material on this subject. The only warning that I will give is that many types of brutality were committed by all sides and you will here about it.