In Part 3, the issue of External Influences on Islamic Thought, Politics, and Culture once again takes center stage, as Islam comes into conflict with the cultures of Western Europe and Central Asia. The Mongol conquest receives the most attention from Armstrong, who portrays it as one of the most traumatic events in the history of Islam. “People clearly felt that the world as they had known it was coming to an end,” she writes of those who lived through the conquest (127). The mystic writings of Rumi serve as key evidence for this argument, since Rumi survived the conquest in his early years and spent the rest of his life expressing his emotional inner workings through poetry. Amidst a backdrop of political turmoil, “Rumi’s spirituality is suffused by a sense of cosmic homelessness and separation from God, the divine source,” Armstrong asserts (127). She thus interprets Rumi’s poetry as a metaphor for the psychological state of the Islamic world during his lifetime, illustrating the degree to which Islamic art and thought are shaped by external events.

This section focuses less on direct intellectual and theological influences than on the emotional impact of historical events. Armstrong argues that the trauma of the Mongol invasion introduced a completely new sense of xenophobia, driven by cultural insecurity, to the Islamic zeitgeist. In summary, “The trauma of the invasions had, not surprisingly, made Muslims feel insecure. Foreigners were not only suspect; they could be as lethal as the Mongols” (129). Crucially, this interpretation provides an explanation for the cultural conservatism that would grow increasingly extreme amongst some Muslim groups in later years, and Armstrong can draw upon that explanation when discussing fundamentalism in the final section of the book. Recognizing The Importance of Debunking Misconceptions About Islam, Armstrong emphasizes that fundamentalism exists in all religions and arises from the same nostalgic and self-protective impulses. Given Armstrong’s personal conviction in the importance of interfaith tolerance, it is unsurprising that she highlights the political disadvantages of such xenophobic fundamentalism; in her discussions of all the post-Mongol polities, she highlights how violence against religious and ethnic outsiders only served to destabilize each region even further. This point is made especially clear in her description of the warlord Timur Lenk, who comes across as powerful yet erratic: “His version of Islam—bigoted, cruel, and violent—bore little relation to the conservative piety of the ulamma or the Sufi doctrine of love. He saw himself as the scourge of Allah, sent to punish the Muslim amirs for their unjust practices” (133). This violent authoritarianism only begets more conflict, ironically destabilizing Muslim communities from within even as it seeks to protect them from outside threats.

Overall, this section introduces the idea that contact with different cultural groups damaged Islam at the same time that it was culturally generative. Although Armstrong aims to write as neutral an account of history as possible, her personal value of religious tolerance informs her interpretation of the growing religious intolerance that began among Muslims in the aftermath of the Mongol Empire. More conservative religious thinkers might frame this ideological term as a justifiable defense of Islam from religious and cultural erosion, but Armstrong explicitly frames it as a self-destructive shift. This thread of argumentation will be picked up again in the final section of the book, when insecure cultural impulses help spark the creation of modern Islamic fundamentalism.