The Silk Roads by Peter Frankopan review – a frustrating trail
Fifty
years ago, in that far-off time before the world wide web spun itself
around our lives, it was easier to write a history of the world from a
European perspective without too much embarrassment. In an age when
stranger-than-fiction happenings are reported in real time and backed by
equally instant analysis, how does one write a new history of the
world? Neil MacGregor
found a way and his story of 100 objects taken from the British Museum
was a bestseller. Peter Frankopan, an academic at Oxford, where he is
director of the Centre for Byzantine Research, has followed another
route by shifting the centre of historical gravity in an extremely
ambitious, often surprising and just as often frustrating book.
This “new history of the world” is a strangely myopic one for it
starts by ignoring thousands of years of documented human achievement to
look at the rise of the Persian empire. But Frankopan is quick to make a
point of this apparently arbitrary opening: he wants to recalibrate our
view of history, to challenge assumptions about where we come from and
what has shaped us. The traditional view, taught in our schools and
supported by the layout of many of our museums, is that we are the heirs
of the glorious Romans, who were in turn heir to the Greeks, who, in
some accounts, were heirs to the Egyptians. Seen in this way, the
Mediterranean well deserves its name for it is literally the middle of
the world. Frankopan disagrees with the Eurocentric view and places the
centre of the world some way to the east, beyond Mesopotamia and the
Caucasus, in Iran and the “stans”.
The silk roads of the title are the arteries along which
people, goods, ideas, religions, disease and many other things have
flowed. The “silk road” label is relatively recent, coined only in 1877
by the German geographer Ferdinand von Richthofen, uncle of the first
world war flying ace, the Red Baron (one of many fascinating details
Frankopan has packed into his text). But the routes between China and
the Mediterranean Sea, which run through what have become some of the
world’s most disturbed and dangerous countries (Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan…) have been trodden or ridden along since long before documented history.
There is nothing new in insisting that the world’s centre lies to the
east: Christopher Marlowe called Persia/Iran “the middle of the world”
back in 1587 and many historians have echoed that thought. But Frankopan
ranges further than many before him, digs deeper in archives, quotes
more texts to make his point. And the facts support the theory: 2,000
years ago, as he says, Chinese silks were worn by the Carthaginian
elite, wealthy Iranians used Provencal pottery while Indian spices found
their way into Afghan and Roman cuisine. But if trade, or the promise
of wealth, has always been the engine to drive people along the silk
roads, other things have been carried along with it. Alexander’s
campaign in the east brought Greek culture to the Indus valley, as a
result of which the Buddha was given form – and a recognisably Greek
form at that – and Buddhist sculpture, so familiar today, became
popular. Christianity spread along the silk roads under the Romans.
Islam more obviously did too. Scientific advances, philosophical ideas
and much else was cross-fertilised by exposure to east and west.
Archaeologists and local labourers excavate the ancient city of Mes
Aynak in Afghanistan, which sits on the Silk Road. Matthew C Rains/MCT
via Getty Images
Not everything that passed along the roads was beneficial. Violence
was a regular traveller – there is a particularly good chapter on the
rise of the Mongols, who wreaked havoc as they went, and another on the
spread of the Slavs and the rise of the Rus, and on British and American
meddling since the 19th century. The spread of plague, the black death,
is also well handled, with Frankopan pointing out that the decimation
of Europe’s population had its advantages: because there were fewer
workers, the price of labour rose, wealth was spread (a little) more
evenly and, as a result, the cultural flowering that was the Renaissance
happened.
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But
this history is also occasionally lopsided. One wouldn’t want a full
account of the human story – how many volumes would that fill? – and the
selection of material is key to the success of this sort of book. But
there is very little coverage of the European Enlightenment, for
instance, nor of the thriving life around the North Sea in what we call
the dark ages (which Michael Pye wrote about so well in his recent The Edge of the World), both of which had a huge influence on both ends of the silk roads.
The need for brevity has led to some troubling misrepresentations.
Although Frankopan makes the important point that the prophet Muhammad
made allies of the Arab Jews, he omits to mention the number of Jews who
were killed by Muslims soon after. There is no such place as the
“Arab-speaking world”. The Crusaders never did manage to take Aleppo,
although they desperately wanted to. And it is unfortunate, in this
post-colonial era, to write that TE Lawrence took Aqaba in 1917 without
mentioning the Arab forces who did the fighting – not even Lawrence’s
most slavish fans would claim that for him.
It is doubly unfortunate to read these and other errors because for much of its 646 pages, The Silk Roads
is full of intriguing insights and some fascinating details. Who it is
aimed at remains a puzzle. If you don’t already have a wide grasp of the
history of mankind then this might have you scratching your head in
many places. If you do know the A to Z of great khans, then you might
find some of it obvious. And if you have any first-hand experience of
some of Frankopan’s centre of the world, his belief that it is rising
again might seem overly optimistic.
But none of that takes away from the importance of the project. As
the power of the west wanes, so history needs to be rewritten.
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