Sometimes I marvel at the movers and shakers of history that have completely slipped through the cracks of modern remembrance.  The nations and peoples—like a lot of those I’ve discussed over the past few blog entries—who were serious players in their time, but are now all but forgotten by all but the most dedicated or obsessed historians.  The people I want to talk about today fit that description to a tee.  They did more to shape and affect the lives of more people, over a longer period of time, than the vast majority of nations on this planet of ours.  I’m talking today about the Jurchen.

I know what you’re thinking … the who?  The Jurchen, a collection of Tungusic-speaking tribes that inhabited a stretch of rough terrain north of modern China and Korea.  They first appear in Chinese records from 748 A.D.  But the records of Balhae, an early Korean kingdom, include “Mohe” tribes from as early as 698.  The Mohe are considered to have been proto-Jurchen.  Balhae itself was thought to have been established by a coalition of Goguryeo fugitives and Mohe tribesmen.  The two records neatly place the Jurchen—or at least their ancestors—in the area of Manchuria about the same time that the Korean kingdom of Silla finally unified the peninsula.

The Mohe come down to us through history as a sedentary people known for raising pigs.  They wore clothing made of pig and dog skins, and farmed a wide range of crops to include soybean, wheat, millet, and rice.  Yet they apparently still hunted for wild game, once abundant in the mountainous region they called home.  Like all Tungusic tribes they practiced slavery, and some reports indicate they actually rode reindeer, horses not being native to the region.

It’s when the Mohe are introduced to the horse that things really get interesting … and they start to be referred to as the Jurchen.  Horses provided the rising proto-Mongol Khitans a significant advantage over other peoples in the region and they drove hard to exploit it.  In time they’d carved out an impressive empire that stretched from the Pacific Ocean to the western border of modern Mongolia.  By the 11th Century, then, the Jurchen had become vassals of the Khitan-led Liao Dynasty.  They’d also become a real nuisance to others in the area.

The Kingdom of Goryeo—easily the most militant of unified Korean polities—fought numerous battles with mounted Jurchen tribes throughout its existence from 918 to 1392.  The Jurchen tribes, however, remained separate entities during this period and so were easily managed.  Multiple tribes served as vassals to Goryeo and several even settled within the northern borders of the kingdom though not always with the king’s permission.  Some of these tribes apparently even tried their hand at piracy as the Japanese record a raid in 1019 by Jurchen pirates on Tsushima, Iki, and Kyushu Islands.  Regardless, it seems their Khitan Liao masters would be the ones to teach them the value of cooperation and confederation.

Wanyan Aguda unified the Jurchen tribes in 1115, declaring himself the Jin Emperor Taizu.  By 1120 he’d seized the Liao capital.  In 1125 he launched his newly united people against the Song Chinese then ruling what would today be considered Eastern China.  The Jin Emperor sent two armies streaming across the northern border, the western force heading toward Luoyang and the eastern one pushing all the way to Kaifeng, near modern Beijing.  There, the Northern Song Emperor offered a truce, promising a huge indemnity, so the Jin withdrew.

But it was all a ruse to bring 150,000 troops in two armies up from the south to combat the invaders.  Thus the Song reneged on the deal and the enraged Jin pressed their forces again, utterly destroying both reinforcing armies.  The two Jin forces converged on the capital at Kaifeng and, by the end of 1126, the city was taken.  This resulted in an energetic looting of the capital and enslaving of the imperial court situated there.  The Jin would press their advantage, pushing the Song all the way to the Yangtze River before several hard-fought campaigns stabilized the border at the Yellow River in 1138.

The Jin, only a couple generations removed from true obscurity, had just seized all of northern China.  Adding it to the Manchurian lands from which they’d emerged, the unified Jurchen tribes had accomplished something truly incredible, in the process assuming control of an estimated population of ninety million Chinese.  Yet being at the top often makes one a target, and the Jin began to have troubles on their northern border.  Mongol troubles.

The Mongols, under Genghis Khan, threw off their Jin vassalage in 1210 and then overran their former masters the following year.  The war raged off and on for over two decades, but the Jin Dynasty finally collapsed in 1234.  Yet Jurchen roots still ran deep in their native Manchuria … and they’d be back.

The Jurchen virtually disappeared into the ranks of mounted warriors during the period of Mongol ascendancy and rule.  Little is heard from them beyond peripheral engagements on the sidelines of twelve Mongol invasions of Goryeo.  In fact, they seemed to have returned to their original status as a nuisance to larger regional players, likely reflecting a loss of cohesion once the ruling Jin aristocracy was gone.  During the Japanese invasion of Joseon, 1592-98, Kato Kiyomasu would tangle with a tribe called the Orangai just beyond the Yalu River.  The Orangai too were Jurchen.  Thus we know they were still there, and still strong, teeming with energy just across the river. 

With the withdrawal of Japanese forces, however, in 1598, and subsequent bankrupting of both Joseon and the Ming Dynasty, the environment was right once again for a unifying Jurchen ruler to emerge.  Enter Nurhaci, soon to be known worldwide as the first real leader of the Manchus.

The Manchus were yet another tribal confederation from the region of Manchuria, but, as before, primarily consisted of Jurchen people and warriors.  In 1607 Nurhaci unified the Jurchen and declared himself Khan.  In 1618 then, yeah, you guessed it, he moved across northern China like a steamroller.  By 1644 it was all over, and the mighty Ming Dynasty, was no more.  Nurhaci passed away during his China campaign, but his successor carried it far enough along to declare the establishment of the Qing Dynasty in 1636.  As punishment for their support to the Ming, the Manchus invaded Joseon twice in 1626 and 1637, in that time securing what the Mongols failed to achieve after twelve campaigns, Korean submission.

The Manchu-led Qing would take China farther than it had ever been, essentially establishing the borders we recognize today.  Yet Manchu overlords often treated their subjects harshly, engendering multiple rebellions that the Qing were forced to put down.  The Chinese people would not regain control of their country until the monarchy was finally abolished in 1912. 

Largely absorbed by Chinese culture during their overlordship, when the empire dissolved and the smoke cleared, the Jurchen were essentially gone as a separate people, surviving only as a tiny minority in modern China.  Yet the legacy they left behind, the long bloody trail that follows their exploits and misadventures across a turbulent millennium in Asian history, testifies to the strength, adaptability, and endurance of a truly noteworthy people.

M. G. Haynes