Mongol Religion and Shamanism: Tengrism Explained

When people speak about the religion of the ancient Mongols, they most often use the broad term “shamanism.” Yet behind this word lies a far more complex and coherent system of beliefs known as Tengrism. It was not merely a collection of rituals or superstitions, but a worldview that shaped how the Mongols understood the world, power, nature, and humanity’s place in the universe. Without understanding Tengrism, it is impossible to truly grasp the culture of the nomads or the phenomenon of the Mongol Empire.

Mongol nomad under the vast sky symbolizing Tengrism.

At the heart of Tengrism lay faith in the Eternal Sky — the supreme force governing the fate of the world and of humanity. The Sky was not imagined as a concrete deity with human features. Instead, it was understood as an all-encompassing principle of order, justice, and harmony. Everything that happened in the life of an individual or an entire people was seen as an expression of heavenly will. Victory in battle, the prosperity of a clan, or, conversely, disasters and defeat — all of it carried a spiritual meaning.

It is important to understand that Tengrism was not a dogmatic religion with written canons, temples, or sacred books. It was a living faith, closely tied to the nomadic way of life. Constant movement, dependence on nature and climate, and closeness to both earth and sky shaped a distinctive sense of the world, one in which humans were not masters, but part of a vast cosmic order. Disrupting this balance was seen as something dangerous, even criminal.

For the Mongols, religion did not exist separately from everyday life. It shaped their attitudes toward war and peace, toward elders and ancestors, toward law and authority. Through Tengrism emerged the concept of legitimate rule: a true ruler was believed to receive power not from people, but from the Sky. This belief played a crucial role in the creation and justification of the Mongol conquests.

For the modern reader, Tengrism is also compelling because it offers an alternative view of spirituality — one without rigid dogmas, yet grounded in deep respect for nature and personal responsibility for one’s actions. In this sense, the ancient religion of the nomads appears unexpectedly relevant even today.

The Supreme Sky and the Structure of the World in Tengrism

At the center of the Tengrism worldview stands Tengri—the Eternal Blue Sky, the highest and impersonal force that governs everything that exists. Unlike the gods of monotheistic religions, Tengri had no image, no name in the human sense, and no fixed personality. He did not “speak” to people directly and did not demand worship familiarly. His presence was felt through the order of the world—through fortune and misfortune, through balance or its disruption. For the Mongols, the Sky was not a person, but the law of existence.

The worldview of Tengrism was built upon a clear yet flexible division into several levels. The upper world belonged to the Sky and the higher powers, the middle world to humans, animals, and nature, while the lower world was associated with spirits, ancestors, and hidden forces. These levels were not isolated from one another. On the contrary, they were believed to be in constant interaction, and events in human life were seen as reflections of processes unfolding on higher or deeper levels of existence.

Vast sky and steppe representing the Eternal Blue Sky.

A special place was given to Mother Earth, perceived as a living and sentient force. The Earth provided sustenance, shelter, and life, yet demanded respect in return. Defiling the land, water, or fire was considered a serious spiritual offense. For this reason, Tengrism placed great importance on taboos connected to nature: one was not to destroy, pollute, or show disrespect toward the surrounding world without cause. Harmony between the Sky and the Earth was seen as the foundation of the well-being of the clan and the tribe.

Between the Sky, the Earth, and humanity existed a vast world of spirits. These included the spirits of places—mountains, rivers, forests—as well as the spirits of ancestors. They were not seen as purely good or purely evil. Their attitude toward people depended on human behavior. Respect, proper rituals, and adherence to tradition ensured their protection, while neglect could lead to illness, poor harvests, or misfortune.

In the Tengrism worldview, humans were not the center of the universe. They occupied a modest yet responsible place within it. Human actions determined whether the balance between the worlds would be preserved. Fate was not seen as something blind or unavoidable—it could be altered through right conduct, the guidance of a shaman, and the restoration of lost harmony.

Such a vision of the world shaped a distinct way of thinking: respect for forces beyond human control, acceptance of responsibility for one’s own actions, and an understanding that power, success, and even life itself are granted only temporarily—by the will of the Sky. From this cosmology grew many defining features of Mongol culture, politics, and their overall relationship with the world.

The Role of the Shaman: A Mediator Between Worlds

In the Tengrism belief system, the shaman held a special position, serving as a link between humans, spirits, and the Eternal Sky. Unlike the priests of organized religions, the shaman was not a representative of a single cult or institution. His power and authority were based not on office, but on personal gift—the ability to see what was hidden, hear the spirits, and travel between worlds. For Mongol society, the shaman was an essential part of both spiritual and social life.

It was believed that one could not become a shaman simply by personal choice. This path was chosen by the spirits and was often accompanied by severe trials. A future shaman might experience serious illness, psychological crisis, or a series of unusual visions. Such states were seen not as weakness, but as a sign of being chosen. Only after passing through a “spiritual death” and returning did a person gain the right and ability to perform shamanic functions.

Mongol shaman performing a ritual by fire.

The shaman’s primary task was to maintain balance between the worlds. When misfortune struck a clan or an individual—illness, loss of livestock, failures in hunting or war—the cause was often believed to be a disruption of harmony with the spirits. The shaman identified the source of the problem and sought a way to restore balance. To achieve this, rituals were performed using chanting, sacrifices, and special ceremonial objects, each carrying its own symbolic meaning.

The shaman also played an important role as a healer. Illness was viewed not only as a physical condition, but as the result of spiritual interference. It was believed that a person’s soul could be taken by spirits or lose its way. The shaman’s task was to retrieve it—by negotiating with otherworldly forces or by confronting them. These beliefs turned healing into more than a medical process; it became a profound spiritual act.

The shaman’s social role was no less significant. He was consulted when making important decisions, before the start of military campaigns, migrations, or major rituals. He could foresee the outcome of events, warn of dangers, and offer guidance that was taken seriously. Although the shaman held no political power, his influence within the community was substantial.

At the same time, attitudes toward shamans were always ambivalent. They were respected, yet also feared. It was believed that someone capable of communicating with spirits could use this power for good or for harm. For this reason, a shaman was expected to strictly observe traditions and moral norms. Violating these rules threatened the loss of the gift or punishment from the spirits.

Thus, the shaman in Tengrism was neither a magician nor a priest in the conventional sense, but a guardian of balance. Through him, the human world remained connected to the world of spirits and the Sky, ensuring the stability and survival of nomadic society in the harsh conditions of the steppe.

Rituals, Spirits, and Everyday Religious Practice

Unlike religions with fixed forms of worship and established calendars, Tengrism revealed itself primarily in everyday life. For the Mongols, the spiritual world did not exist apart from daily routine—it was present on the road, in the yurt, on the pasture, and in every important decision. Religion did not demand constant prayers, but instead required mindful and respectful behavior toward the surrounding world.

One of the key elements of Tengrism practice was the veneration of local spirits. Mountains, rivers, springs, individual trees, or stretches of steppe were believed to be the dwelling places of powerful forces. Before crossing a mountain pass, beginning a hunt, or setting out on a migration, the Mongols might leave offerings—pieces of food, ribbons, or drops of kumis. These acts were not seen as sacrifices in a strict religious sense, but rather as gestures of respect and requests for favor.

Mongol family performing a traditional spiritual offering.

The spirits of ancestors held special importance. It was believed that the dead did not disappear, but continued to watch over the fate of the clan. They could assist their descendants or, conversely, punish them for breaking traditions. For this reason, the memory of ancestors was preserved through rituals, storytelling, and the observance of customs. Losing connection with one’s lineage was seen as a serious spiritual loss, capable of bringing misfortune.

Fire held a special place in Tengrism. It was regarded as a pure and sacred force, a mediator between worlds. Fire was not to be defiled: throwing waste into it, spitting, or treating it disrespectfully was forbidden. Purification rituals were performed through fire, especially at moments of transition—at the birth of a child, upon returning from a campaign, or after illness. These rites symbolized renewal and the restoration of inner balance.

Religious practices also accompanied major stages of life. Birth, coming of age, marriage, and death were marked by specific actions aimed at protecting the soul and strengthening its connection with the spirits. At the same time, there was no strict universal script—rituals could vary depending on region, clan, and specific circumstances. This flexibility made Tengrism resilient and adaptable.

It is important to note that the Tengrism tradition had no concept of sin in the conventional religious sense. Instead, it relied on the idea of disrupting harmony. A wrongful act was dangerous not because it was “forbidden,” but because it could disturb the balance between humans, spirits, and nature. Responsibility was collective in nature: the wrongdoing of one individual could affect the fate of the entire clan.

Thus, the rituals and everyday practices of Tengrism shaped a distinct culture of attentiveness to the world. Through simple yet symbolically rich actions, the Mongols maintained a connection with unseen forces, securing protection, stability, and a sense of meaning in an ever-changing nomadic world.

Tengrism and Power: Why the Sky “Chose” Mongol Rulers

One of the key features of Tengrism was its close connection with ideas of authority and the legitimacy of rule. For the Mongols, power was not the result of mere force, inheritance, or human agreement. It was believed that a true ruler received the right to govern by the will of the Eternal Sky. This belief became the foundation of nomadic political culture and played a decisive role in the formation of the Mongol Empire.

In the Tengrism worldview, the Sky did not intervene in human affairs directly, but revealed its will through events. Victories, territorial expansion, growing influence, and the subjugation of neighboring peoples were seen as signs of heavenly favor. If a ruler was successful, it meant the Sky supported him. But if he was plagued by defeats, rebellions, or natural disasters, this was interpreted as a sign that he had lost the Sky’s backing.

Mongol leader believed to rule by the will of Heaven.

This logic gave power a sacred character, yet at the same time made it conditional. A ruler was not an absolute master, but a temporary bearer of the heavenly mandate. He was obliged to maintain order, uphold tradition, and care for the well-being of the people. Violating these principles could lead to the loss of trust both among the people and within the spiritual realm. In this sense, Tengrism restrained the arbitrary use of power, even when a ruler formally possessed immense authority.

This idea took on particular significance during the era of the Mongol conquests. Military success was seen not merely as the result of martial skill, but as proof that the Sky favored the expansion of Mongol power. This belief strengthened discipline and unity, justified arduous campaigns, and gave warriors a sense that they were taking part in an event of cosmic scale. War was viewed not as chaos, but as the fulfillment of a predetermined order.

At the same time, Tengrism encouraged religious tolerance. Since the Sky was seen as a universal force standing above specific cults, Mongol rulers rarely imposed their beliefs on conquered peoples. What mattered was not a change of faith, but recognition of the authority granted by the Sky. This made it possible to govern a multiethnic and multiconfessional empire without constant religious conflict.

However, the sacred nature of power also had a reverse side. The loss of success meant the loss of legitimacy. When the empire began to fragment, internal conflicts and defeats were perceived as signs that the Sky had turned away from its rulers. This undermined unity and accelerated the collapse of the state.

Thus, Tengrism did not merely accompany Mongol rule—it shaped its very logic. Faith in heavenly selection gave rulers strength and confidence, while at the same time reminding them that all power is temporary and depends on maintaining harmony between the Sky, humanity, and the world.

The Legacy of Tengrism: What Remains of the Ancient Faith Today

Although Tengrism lost its status as the dominant worldview with the decline of the Mongol Empire, it did not vanish without a trace. On the contrary, many of its ideas and practices proved remarkably enduring and continued to exist within the culture, traditions, and ways of thinking of the peoples of Central Asia. Tengrism was not entirely displaced—it dissolved into everyday life, adapting to new religious and historical conditions.

With the spread of Buddhism, Islam, and later Christianity, Tengrism beliefs often did not come into direct conflict with them. Instead, a process of overlap took place. Shamanic practices, the veneration of local spirits, and respect for the Sky and nature continued alongside official religions. In many regions, turning to a shaman or observing ancient taboos was seen not as an alternative to a new faith, but as a natural part of traditional life.

Peaceful steppe reflecting the lasting legacy of Tengrism.

The legacy of Tengrism is especially evident in attitudes toward nature. The idea that humans are not masters of the world, but merely a part of it, has remained deeply embedded in cultural memory. Respect for the land, water, and fire, caution in the use of natural resources, and awareness of the consequences of one’s actions all trace directly back to the Tengrism understanding of harmony. In the modern world, these principles are often seen as unexpectedly aligned with ecological thinking.

Interest in Tengrism has grown noticeably in recent decades. For many, it has become a symbol of a lost identity and an attempt to rethink the past outside the framework of world religions. It is important to understand, however, that modern Tengrism is not an exact revival of the ancient faith, but rather a cultural reconstruction inspired by historical sources and traditions. It serves not so much a religious purpose as a philosophical and symbolic one.

For historians, Tengrism remains a key to understanding the Mongol mindset. It explains not only religious beliefs, but also attitudes toward power, war, fate, and responsibility. Without it, it is difficult to understand how nomadic societies were able to create one of the largest empires in history and govern it without rigid religious unification.

In a broader sense, Tengrism serves as a reminder that spiritual systems can exist without rigid dogmas or canons. It shows that faith can be flexible, woven into everyday life, and grounded not in fear of punishment, but in the desire to preserve balance. This is precisely why interest in Tengrism has not faded: it is seen not as an archaic relic of the past, but as an alternative way of understanding the world and humanity’s place within it.