The Bloody Baron: Roman von Ungern-Sternberg

A New Translation from Julius Evola

The following text is my translation of an essay by Julius Evola, originally published in 1943 under the Italian title Barone von Ungern venerato nei templi mongoli (Baron von Ungern Venerated in Mongolian Temples).

In recent years, a handful of writings has emerged around a figure of towering stature—a man whose tempestuous life and shadowed legacy was largely eclipsed by the chaos following the First World War: Baron Roman Nikolai Maximilian von Ungern-Sternberg.

The first earnest portrayal was undertaken by Ferdinand Ossendowski, who chronicled the baron’s exploits with vivid intensity in his renowned yet contentious work Beasts, Men, and Gods. This was succeeded by Vladimir Pozner’s fictionalized biography Bloody Baron: The Story of Ungern-Sternberg, and Berndt Krauthoff’s novel Ich befehle: Kampf und Tragödie des Barons Ungern-Sternberg (I Command: The Struggle and Tragedy of Baron Ungern-Sternberg).

Nevertheless, these depictions fail to capture the baron’s inscrutable persona, his enigmatic life, and the darker depths of his deeds, leaving much room for speculative interpretation. The famous Traditionalist thinker René Guénon has made a notable contribution in shedding light on the baron’s character by publishing excerpts from letters written in 1924 by Major Alexandrovitch, a man who, during 1918 and 1919, commanded the Mongolian artillery under Ungern-Sternberg’s direct leadership. This testimony—unquestionably authentic—casts doubt on many of the fictionalized narratives, exposing them as reliant on dubious sources, even in recounting the baron’s final fate.

A scion of an ancient Baltic lineage, Ungern-Sternberg stands as the last implacable adversary of the Bolshevik Revolution, which he resisted with relentless, undying hatred. His most remarkable deeds unfolded in a world saturated with mysticism and supernatural undertones, deep within Asia, under the spiritual reign of the Dalai Lama, the “Living Buddha.” ¹

To his enemies, he was the "bloody baron"; to his followers, the "severe little father"—an epithet reminiscent of the Tsar, who was called the "little father." Yet for the Mongols and Tibetans, he embodied the god of war's unyielding force—a supernatural presence believed by legend to have chosen rebirth as Genghis Khan, the great Mongol conqueror. To this day, some among them refuse to accept Ungern-Sternberg’s death; his image is still venerated in certain temples, embodying his enduring "presence."²

With the eruption of the Bolshevik Revolution, Ungern-Sternberg—a Russian officer—assembled a modest force in the East known as the "Asian Cavalry Division." This contingent became the last Russian-commanded unit after the defeats of Generals Wrangel and Kolchak, achieving feats that verge on legend. With this division, Ungern-Sternberg liberated Mongolia from Chinese forces backed by Moscow and orchestrated a daring rescue of the Dalai Lama [Bogd Khan], who, in gratitude, proclaimed him Mongolia’s first prince and regent, bestowing upon him the honorary title of priest.

Ungern-Sternberg maintained connections not only with the Dalai Lama [Translator’s Note: In this instance, the 13th Dalai Lama of Tibet, with whom he corresponded] but also with representatives of Asian Islam and with figures deeply rooted in the traditions of China and Japan. He appeared to envision a grand Asian empire founded on a transcendent, Traditional ideal—a power that would stand against not merely Bolshevism, but the entirety of modern, materialistic civilization, of which Bolshevism was, in his view, merely the final expression.³ This vision hints that Ungern-Sternberg acted not from personal impulse, but under an influence perhaps concealed from ordinary perception.

Baron Ungern-Sternberg held death in absolute contempt, radiating an aura of near-mythical invulnerability. As a leader, warrior, and strategist, the “Bloody Baron” possessed a profound and uncanny intellect, a deep erudition tinged with clairvoyance; his gaze could penetrate the very essence of a man, instantly discerning the spy, the traitor, or the soul best suited to his designs.

Alexandrovitch remarked of Ungern-Sternberg: “He was brutal and pitiless as only an ascetic can be. His insensitivity was unimaginable, as though he were a spirit with a heart of ice, knowing neither pain nor pity, neither joy nor sorrow.” It is utterly absurd, as Krauthoff would suggest, to attribute these qualities to some grief over a lost woman Ungern-Sternberg may have loved. Such an interpretation is emblematic of modern biographers and novelists, who insist on injecting love and romance into their narratives, even where they bear no relevance.⁴

Though Ungern-Sternberg was a Buddhist by family tradition—one of his ancestors having converted to the faith while campaigning in the East—the characteristics Alexandrovitch describes reveal not so much religious devotion as a profound connection to a truly transcendent, superhuman realm. At such heights, conventional notions of good and evil, along with sentimental constraints, dissolve before the unyielding law of absolute action. Baron von Ungern-Sternberg might indeed have become a “man of destiny” had fortune favored him; instead, his life blazed across history like a tragic, meteoric flash.

Following the liberation of Mongolia, Ungern-Sternberg advanced into Siberia to confront the Bolshevik general Blücher, the so-called "Red Napoleon." A terror to the Bolsheviks, he confronted them with relentless fury, even as the struggle turned grim. In these final battles, he secured several cities, but at Verkhneudinsk, facing a Bolshevik force outnumbering his own tenfold and intent on eradicating their final adversary, he withdrew after a bloody, grueling stand.

Ungern-Sternberg's final fate then fades into obscurity. Fictionalized biographies by Pozner and Krauthoff claim he was betrayed by his troops, fell into despondency, and was captured and executed by the Reds. Krauthoff even imagines a dramatic meeting between Ungern-Sternberg and Blücher, where he is offered his life in exchange for service as a Soviet general—an offer he disdainfully refuses. However, as Guénon relates, Ungern-Sternberg was neither captured nor executed but perished of natural causes near the Tibetan frontier.

One enigmatic detail that all sources affirm is his apparent prediction of the exact day of his death. A lama is also said to have foretold his wounding in the Red assault on Dauria station. These details heighten his mythic aura as the "bloody baron," a figure whose gaze alone was reported to inspire a nameless dread: "One felt an inexplicable, tightening pressure upon the chest, as though bound by unseen steel." His command and charisma possessed an almost superhuman force, compelling all within his presence.

An equally striking episode arises from Guénon’s account of strange "psychic" phenomena at Ungern-Sternberg’s ancestral castle, as though the force he embodied against the Red tide—perceived in Tibet as the avatar of the "god of war"—endured beyond death, remaining as the lingering presence of a spirit elevated to a timeless symbol.⁵

End.

1. In this context, Evola appears to employ “Dalai Lama” generically rather than as a specific title. He actually refers to the Bogd Gegen, the third-ranking “Living Buddha” in the Tibetan hierarchy, following the Dalai Lama and Panchen Lama. The eighth Bogd Gegen was proclaimed “Bogd Khan” (Emperor) of Mongolia in 1911 following Mongolia’s independence from China. His reign was interrupted by Chinese occupation and his arrest in 1920 until he was restored to power in 1921 by Ungern-Sternberg.

2. The Mongolian reverence for Ungern-Sternberg reflects the deeply syncretic nature of Mongolian Buddhism and shamanistic beliefs, wherein reincarnation and ancestor worship maintain a significant cultural role, especially in veneration practices associated with powerful historical figures.

3. Evola’s reference to Ungern-Sternberg’s vision of an empire based on a “Traditional ideal” aligns with his own metaphysical views of Tradition as a metaphysical order beyond transient political systems. The Traditional ideal is a reference to an integrated cultural and spiritual foundation in contrast to modern materialism.

4. Evola’s criticism here reflects his disdain for the modern biographical impulse to psychologize historical figures through romantic or sentimental narratives, which he saw as antithetical to the study of individuals of profound will and action.

5. The “psychic phenomena” attributed to Ungern-Sternberg may allude to his reputed supernatural faculties, which both Evola and others perceived as manifestations of a transcendent, metaphysical force. Witnesses reported that Ungern possessed an almost clairvoyant insight into men’s souls—a “second sight” described by figures such as Hermann Keyserling, who noted Ungern’s unsettling ability to read individuals’ inner thoughts and assign fates with a “beast-like stare.” In Mongolia, Ungern cultivated a mystic aura by surrounding himself with Buddhist lamas, fortune-tellers, and shamans, whose predictions reportedly guided some of his military actions. His calculated employment of these elements reinforced local beliefs that his successes stemmed from sorcery, and stories circulated of his alleged invulnerability, which contributed to his mythic status and enhanced the perception of his influence over the spirit world.