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Week 3. The Rise of Nationalism; the Demise of Empire
Welcome
to
our
third
lesson
of
our
course
on
the
Emergence
of
the
Modern
Middle
East.
Our
course
today
is
on
the
rise
of
nationalism
in
the
Middle
East,
on
the
one
hand,
and
the
demise,
the
end
of
the
Ottoman
Empire,
on
the
other.
We
are
talking
about
three
forms
of
nationalism
in
this
period:
Turkish,
Arab,
and
Egyptian.
These
nationalisms
were
the
property,
for
the
most
part,
of
an
intellectual,
elitist,
Westernizing,
urban
minority.
Nationalism
was
not
the
province
of
the
masses
of
the
citizenry.
Nationalists
were
especially
the
graduates
of
the
new
schools,
those
who
had
been
exposed
more
intensively
to
Western
ideas.
The
new
schools
produced
new
social
classes,
new
professions.
Teachers
for
the
new
schools
who
were
teaching
new
subjects,
lawyers
and
judges
administering
new
European
inspired
legal
systems.
These
were
the
people
who
were
the
most
supportive
of
the
new
nationalist
ideas.
But
for
most
of
the
population,
the
people
were
still
very
deeply
embedded
in
Islamic
tradition,
though,
what
exactly
tradition
meant
was
beginning
to
change
also.
But
religious
leaders
still
wielded
considerable
authority.
The
Ottoman
Sultan
at
the
end
of
the
19th
century,
Abdulhamid
II,
claimed
to
be
the
Caliph
of
all
Muslims,
mobilizing
popular
support
for
the
Ottoman
Empire
on
the
basis
of
their
Islamic
identity.
But
nevertheless,
nationalist
movements
did
arise
and
in
response
to
a
variety
of
different
challenges.
3.1.
Turkish
Nationalism
So,
what
were
the
challenges
that
led
to
the
emergence
of
Turkish
nationalism?
In
Turkish
nationalism,
we
are
talking
first
and
foremost
of
the
pressure
that
is
coming
from
Europe
and
the
problem
of
secession
by
the
Christian
populated
territories
in
the
European
part
of
the
Empire.
Ottomanism
failed
to
keep
the
Christians
inside
the
Empire.
During
the
Tanzimat,
we
learnt
about
the
equality
about
the
law
that
was
passed,
and
this
equality
before
the
law
that
included
Christians
and
Muslims
was
supposed
to
create
a
shared
Ottoman
identity.
But
it
did
not.
In
the
face
of
Christian
secession,
Sultan
Abdulhamid
turned
to
pan-‐Islam
to
strengthen
the
bonds
between
the
increasingly
Muslim
Empire.
As
Christians
seceded,
so
the
Empire
became
ever
more
Muslim.
But
this
idea
of
pan-‐Islam
and
uniting
the
people
on
the
basis
of
their
religion
was
becoming
less
and
less
acceptable
to
the
new
Westernizing
Turkish
elite.
They
believed
in
Turkish
national
solidarity
based
on
a
common
language,
Turkish,
European-‐style.
The
Empire
now
was
almost
entirely
Turkish
and
Arab.
Therefore,
the
emphasis
on
Turkishness
could
be
a
cause
of
tension
with
the
Arabs,
especially
after
1908
when
the
Young
Turks
came
to
power.
So,
though
Turkish
nationalists,
the
Young
Turks,
were
reluctant
to
push
Turkish
nationalism
too
far
not
to
create
a
break
with
a
very
large
Arab
Muslim
population.
Who
were
the
Young
Turks?
The
Young
Turks
were
young
military
officers
and
bureaucrats,
the
graduates
of
the
Tanzimat
and
not
the
usual
opponents
of
the
sultan,
not
the
local
potentates
or
the
unruly
tribes
or
the
Christians.
It
is
the
Young
Turks
who
staged
a
revolution
in
July
1908,
deposed
the
Sultan
in
April
of
1909
and
continued
with
the
process
of
reform
in
the
military
with
German
advisers,
as
they
continued,
like
their
predecessors,
building
new
schools
and
adding
to
legal
reform.
The
Young
Turks
continued
as
their
predecessors,
building
a
modern
infrastructure,
telegraph,
roads
and
railways,
generally
modernizing
the
Ottoman
Empire.
Government
became
ever
more
centralized,
even
the
development
of
an
effective
secret
police.
Many
of
the
revolutionaries,
those
who
carried
out
the
Revolution
of
1908,
were
military
officers
organized
in
an
organization
that
was
called
the
Committee
of
Union
and
Progress,
in
short,
the
CUP.
They
sought
the
salvation
of
the
Empire
and
the
restoration
of
the
1876
Constitution.
They
believed
in
Turkish
nationalism,
in
Westernized
education
and
in
the
implementation
of
the
Constitution.
But
also,
for
the
Young
Turks,
constitutionalism
meant
the
steady
shift
of
power
into
the
hands
of
the
army
at
the
expense
of
both
the
sultan
and
the
bureaucracy.
They
also
believed
that
the
resumption
of
parliamentary
life
would
ease
European
pressure.
But
it
did
not.
In
the
Balkans,
the
Ottomans
continued
losing
ground.
And
in
1911
the
Italians
took
Tripoli
in
Libya.
In
1912-‐13,
the
Ottomans
lost
nearly
all
the
territory
they
had
left
in
Europe.
Ottomans
during
the
war.
In
the
spring
of
1915,
with
the
British
attacking
at
the
Dardanelles,
the
Russians
attacking
in
the
east
and
the
British
apparently
advancing
on
Baghdad,
the
Ottomans
decided
on
the
deportation
of
the
Armenians
in
eastern
Anatolia.
In
the
process
of
this
deportation,
hundreds
of
thousands,
maybe
even
one
million
Armenians
or
even
more
perished
because
of
the
harsh
conditions,
dying
of
hunger,
disease
and
exposure.
Many
were
murdered
by
local,
mainly
Kurdish,
tribesmen
and
villagers.
Thus,
what
turned
into
the
Armenian
Genocide
was
part
of
a
larger
transition,
the
transition
from
communal
identity
to
territorial
self-‐
determination.
This
had
some
very
unfortunate
consequences
on
the
ground.
The
transition
from
communal
co-‐existence,
where
religious
communities
lived
side
by
side,
Ottoman
style,
to
territorial
nationalism,
European
style,
required
some
degree
of
territorial
contiguity.
The
need
for
communities
now
to
acquire
territorial
contiguity
in
the
name
of
self-‐determination
rather
than
communities
just
living
side
by
side
created
unavoidable
clashes
between
the
mosaic
of
minorities
within
the
Ottoman
Empire,
accompanied
by
horrific
bloodshed.
The
Balkans
of
those
days
(and
latter-‐day
Yugoslavia
of
the
1990s)
were
one
example.
The
Armenians
in
Anatolia
was
another.
Not
all
products
of
modernity
and
change
had
positive
results.
Some
were
quite
catastrophic.
Indeed,
the
Turkish-‐
Armenian
clash
was
the
worst
example
of
this
unfortunate
reality.
3.2.
Arab
Nationalism
Looking
at
the
Christian
intellectual
roots
of
Arab
nationalism,
one
must
first
recognize
that
during
the
19th
century,
and
in
particular
the
second
half
of
it,
Syria
during
the
Tanzimat
was
a
country
of
increased
order
and
a
much
more
intensive
and
better
connection
with
Europe.
One
of
the
results
of
these
changes
was
that
there
was
a
very
significant
increase
in
the
school
system,
especially
of
church
and
missionary
schools.
By
1914,
in
Syria,
there
were
some
500
French
schools.
There
were
American
Protestant
schools
too,
one
of
which
became
the
American
University
of
Beirut,
established
in
1866
and
still
in
existence
today.
American
and
French
missionary
schools
in
Lebanon
brought
many
Arabs,
mainly
Christians,
into
close
contact
with
the
West.
Ottoman
government
schools
did
the
same.
But
the
Arab
literary
revival
through
the
printing
press,
journalism,
periodicals,
dictionaries,
grammar
books
and
new
literature
was
very
much
a
cultural
revival
in
which
Christians
were
preeminent.
The
dissemination
of
new
ideas
in
this
cultural
revival
focused
very
much
on
the
idea
of
nationalism,
and
Arab
nationalism
it
was.
Just
to
mention
a
few
of
the
Christians
who
were
involved
in
this
cultural
revival:
Nasif
al-‐Yaziji,
Butrus
al-‐Bustani,
Faris
Shidyaq
(he
of
these
Christians
was
one
who
converted
to
Islam),
Ya'aqub
Sarruf,
Faris
Nimr,
Jurji
Zaydan.
It
is
important
to
mention
Faris
Shidyaq
as
one
who
converted
to
Islam
and
not
the
only
Christian
ideologue
of
Arab
nationalism
who
did
that.
This
was
maybe
a
recognition
by
the
Christians
of
the
very
close
association,
in
the
end,
between
Arab
nationalism
and
Islam.
As
for
the
Muslim
public,
the
great
majority
of
them
were
not
attracted
by
Arab
nationalism,
certainly
not
that
espoused
by
Christians.
The
Muslim
Arabs
in
Syria
adopted
the
battle
cry
“Arabic
shall
not
be
Christianized”
as
a
way
of
rejecting
this
form
of
Arab
nationalism
coming
from
Christian
intellectuals.
So
one
must
ask
now,
what
were
the
effects
of
Islamic
Reform
on
the
emergence
of
Arab
nationalism?
Muslims
were
indeed
affected
far
more
by
the
arguments
of
Islamic
reformers
about
the
primacy
of
the
Arabs
in
Islam,
and
blaming
the
Turks
for
Muslim
decline,
than
they
were
influenced
by
Christian
intellectuals.
For
Islamic
reformers
like
Rashid
Rida,
about
whom
we
have
already
learnt,
the
revival
of
Arabic
studies
as
a
forerunner
to
the
revival
of
Islam
was
absolutely
essential,
because
Arabic
was
the
language
of
Islam.
From
this,
it
was
a
very
easy
step
to
glorifying
the
Arabs
and
to
speaking
of
the
essentiality
of
the
Arab
nationalism.
But
in
the
end,
Arab
nationalism
only
really
captured
the
popular
imagination
after
the
disappearance
of
the
Ottoman
Empire.
Only
after
a
special
emphasis
on
the
role
of
Islam
in
Arabism
and
the
intimate
connection
between
Arabism
and
Islam
did
Arab
nationalism
become
really
popular
amongst
Muslims.
After
all,
Islam
was
at
the
very
heart
of
the
cultural
heritage
of
the
Arabs.
If
one
were
to
ask
what
was
the
greatest
contribution
of
the
Arabs
to
human
civilization,
unquestionably
Arabs
would
argue
that
it
was
the
religion
of
Islam.
Before
World
War
One,
Arab
nationalists,
for
the
most
part,
did
not
go
beyond
calls
for
greater
autonomy
and
the
recognition
of
Arabic
as
an
official
language.
There
were
secret
societies
that
promoted
Arab
nationalism,
but
they
had
very
little
weight
before
1914.
There
was
an
Arab
nationalist
conference
in
Paris
in
1913,
but
all
they
did
was
to
demand
autonomy
in
the
Arab
provinces,
not
secession.
They
also
demanded
the
recognition
of
Arabic
as
a
language
of
government,
and
they
demanded
the
appointment
of
more
Arab
officials.
Was
this
about
nationalism
or
just
self-‐interest
of
the
Arab
educated
class
looking
for
good
jobs
in
the
government?
It
is
hard
to
say.
It
was
only
amongst
the
Maronite
Catholics,
that
compact
minority
of
Christians
in
Mount
Lebanon,
who
had
very
clear
ideas
about
a
politically
independent
entity
protected
by
France.
But
that
was
not
in
the
name
of
Arab
nationalism,
but
in
the
name
of
the
state
of
Lebanon.
In
the
provinces
of
Iraq,
there
was
much
less
interest
in
Arab
nationalism,
much
less
than
in
Syria,
for
example.
There
had
been
less
substantial
economic
development
and
change
in
Iraq
than
there
had
been
in
Syria
during
the
19th
century.
There
was
a
very
large
Shi'ite
population
in
Iraq,
and
they
saw
Arabism
not
as
a
nationalism
in
which
they
shared.
For
them,
Arabism
was
a
form
of
Sunni
Muslim
revivalism,
and
in
that
they
had
no
interest.
The
Christian
catalyst
that
existed
in
Syria
did
not
exist
in
Iraq.
There
were
very
few
Christians
in
Iraq,
not
intellectually
prominent
as
those
in
Syria.
There
was
a
very
important
and
large
Jewish
minority
in
Iraq.
But
they
were
not
very
politicized
and
generally
speaking
were
very
loyal
Ottoman
subjects.
The
Jews,
after
all,
had
no
connections
with
Christian
powers
and
could
not
possibly
imagine
secession.
After
1908
and
the
revival
of
the
Ottoman
parliament,
there
were
much
more
intensive
contacts
between
Arab
representatives
in
the
Empire.
The
parliament
enabled
them
to
come
in
contact
with
each
other,
and
this
added
to
the
appeal
of
Arab
nationalism.
But
again,
one
must
emphasize,
the
great
majority
of
Muslims
remained
loyal
subjects
of
the
Ottoman
Empire
until
the
very
end.
Egypt
in
the
1870s
was
Egypt
in
a
situation
of
bankruptcy
and
ever-‐increasing
international
intervention
in
Egypt's
finances
to
ensure
payment
of
the
huge
debt
that
the
Egyptians
had
accumulated
in
the
very
rapid
project
of
modernization
instituted
very
much
under
the
rule
of
Khedive
Ismail.
In
1879,
Khedive
Ismail
was
removed
by
the
European
powers
in
favor
of
his
son
Tawfiq.
Egyptian
Arabic-‐speaking
officers
of
the
Egyptian
army
began
to
express
ever
increasing
disapproval
of
this
international
influence
in
Egyptian
politics.
This
disapproval
of
the
Arabic-‐
speaking
officers
was
also
representative
of
more
profound
trends
of
social
disaffection
inside
Egypt
at
that
time.
There
was
increasing
tension
between
the
Arabic-‐speaking
Egyptians
and
the
older
upper
class
of
Turco-‐Circassians
officers
and
the
landowning
elite,
also
of
Turco-‐Circassian
background
in
many
places,
who
had
become
predominant
since
Muhammad
Ali's
assumption
of
power.
This
Turco-‐
Circassian
elite
in
part
Turkish,
that
is,
Turkish
administrators
and
officers
who
had
remained
in
Egypt
and
become
very
prominent,
or
Circassians
who
had
served
with
the
Mamluks
and
whose
origins
were
in
the
Caucasus
and
had
become
part
of
the
new
ruling
elite
in
Egypt,
together
with
Arab
Egyptian
landowners,
were
equally
interested
in
the
restriction
of
foreign
influence,
which
naturally
eroded
their
stature
too.
These
are
the
early
beginnings
of
a
very
clear
cut,
openly
expressed
Egyptian
identity.
Educated
Egyptians
were
also
influenced
by
new
archeological
discoveries
of
the
Egyptians’
glorious
ancient
past.
There
was
a
creation
of
a
sense
of
continuity
between
Egypt's
great
pre-‐Islamic
past
and
its
Islamic
history.
This
had
great
impact
on
collective
identity.
If
one
ventures
to
study
Egypt's
pre-‐Islamic
past,
one
is
touching
upon
a
core
issue
in
the
Islamic
interpretation
of
history.
The
pre-‐Islamic
past
in
the
Islamic
interpretation
of
history
is
known
as
the
Jahiliyya,
the
period
of
ignorance.
There
was
nothing
positive
to
say
about
the
pre-‐Islamic
past
in
Egypt.
It
was
this
period
of
ignorance
and
barbarism
that
was
succeeded
by
the
great
civilization
of
Islam.
Rifa'a
al-‐Tahtawi,
who
lived
from
1801
to
1873
and
was
one
of
the
leading
students
in
the
Muhammad
Ali
era
who
studied
in
Paris
from
1826
to
1831,
under
the
impact
of
European
ideas,
spoke
frequently
of
nations
and
countries
and
made
it
clear
that
a
nation
was
bound
to
a
specific
territory.
Egypt
was
one
such
country.
The
Egyptians
were
a
nation,
says
Tahtawi,
who
should
love
their
fatherland
like
the
Europeans
love
theirs.
Tahtawi's
writings
about
Egypt's
uniqueness
were
published
in
a
book
on
the
historical
and
geographical
distinctiveness
of
Egypt
in
1869.
Khedive
Ismail
built
a
national
library
and
a
museum.
The
introduction
of
pre-‐
Islamic
history
into
Egypt's
schools
was
becoming
an
important
facet
of
the
evolution
of
a
peculiar,
particular
Egyptian
identity.
Writers
like
Ya'aqub
Sanu’
and
Abdallah
al-‐Nadim
popularized
the
terms
of
Egyptianness
and
Egyptians
in
the
1870s
and
the
1880s,
and
sounded
the
slogan
of
“Egypt
for
the
Egyptians.”
It
was
against
this
background
that
there
was
ever
increasing
opposition
in
Egypt
to
increasing
foreign
influence.
In
1881
and
1882,
there
were
repeated
uprisings
of
the
officers
under
Ahmad
Urabi
against
the
economic
situation,
against
the
Turco-‐Circassian
domination
and
against
increasing
foreign
intervention
in
Egypt's
domestic
financial
affairs.
Urabi
spoke,
for
the
most
part,
in
traditionally
Islamic
terms,
but
he
also
used
the
slogans
of
Abdallah
al-‐Nadim
on
“Egypt
for
the
Egyptians.”
Further
expansion
of
the
school
system
under
the
British
occupation
also
meant
further
expansion
of
a
relative
freedom
of
speech
that
the
British
did
allow
in
Egypt,
more
so
in
Egypt
than
in
the
Ottoman
Empire.
And
there
was
a
constant
growth
of
Egyptian
national
sentiment.
The
continued
competition
with
the
Turco-‐Circassians
over
positions
in
the
army
and
the
bureaucracy
also
contributed
to
this
Egyptian
national
sentiment.
These
were
also
the
years
in
which,
in
Egypt
too,
there
was
influence
of
the
example
of
Japan,
this
Asian
power
that
had
defeated
the
European
power,
the
Russians,
in
1905,
which
also
gave
an
impetus
to
the
sense
of
Egyptian
nationalism.
1907
was
an
important
year
for
the
establishment
of
modern-‐style
political
parties
in
Egypt.
One
of
these
was
the
nationalist
party
al-‐Hizb
al-‐Watani
led
by
Mustafa
Kamil,
who
lived
from
1874
to
1908.
The
party
that
he
established
in
the
name
of
nationalism,
watani
in
Arabic,
was
an
example
of
how
the
Arabic
language
was
beginning
to
change
to
incorporate
new,
modern
meanings
coming
from
Europe.
Originally,
the
word
watan,
which
now
means
national,
meant
just
the
place
of
birth.
It
now
came
to
mean
watan
in
the
French
sense
of
patrie.
Watan
acquired
a
new
modern
meaning
in
connection
with
the
nationalist
idea.
It
now
acquired,
like
European
nationalism,
this
sense
of
attachment
and
loyalty.
Ahmad&Lu)i&al,Sayyid&(1872,1963)&
• !Established!Hizb%al(Umma%%
• !Journalist!and!lawyer!
• !Spokesperson!for!Egyp8an!na8onalism!and!
modernism!
• !Shi:ed!from!Westernizing!Islamic!reform!to!
uncompromising!secularism!
• !Rejected!religion!as!the!cohesive!element!of!
society!
By Zerida at en.wikipedia [Public domain], from Wikimedia Commons
• !Believed!in!territorially!defined!na8onDstate
!
Another
political
party
established
in
1907
was
that
established
by
Ahmad
Lutfi
al-‐Sayyid.
The
name
of
that
party,
Hizb
al-‐Umma,
also
meant
essentially
the
nationalist
party.
Umma
originally
meant
community,
as
in
the
community
of
believers.
But
now,
in
the
modern
era,
umma
had
also
come
to
mean
the
people
in
the
modern
nationalist
sense.
So
Hizb
al-‐Umma
also
meant
the
nationalist
party,
if
one
is
to
translate
from
the
Arabic
into
the
English.
Ahmad
Lutfi
al-‐Sayyid
had
been
a
disciple
of
Muhammad
Abduh,
the
great
or
the
greatest
of
the
Islamic
reformers.
Abduh
himself
in
his
later
years
had
become
supportive
of
Egyptian
nationalism.
But
Ahmad
Lutfi
took
this
a
few
steps
further,
shifting
from
Westernizing
Islamic
reform
to
uncompromising
secularism.
For
Ahmad
Lutfi,
secular
nationalism
meant
nationalism
on
a
geographic,
historic
and
linguistic
foundation.
Nationalism,
as
far
as
he
was
concerned,
was
not
about
religious
identity.
Ahmad
Lutfi
was
a
classic
European
liberal,
an
intellectual
giant
known
by
his
generation
as
faylasuf
al-‐jil,
the
philosopher
or
the
mentor
of
the
generation.
He
finally
rejected
religion
as
the
cohesive
element
of
society.
Countries
must
be
guided
by
national
interests,
not
religious
belief.
The
nation
existed
independently
of
the
Islamic
community.
Ahmad
Lutfi
believed
in
a
territorially
defined
nation-‐state.
But,
as
the
British
historian
P.J.
Vatikiotis
has
pointed
out,
Ahmad
Lutfi
underestimated
the
political
power
inherent
in
the
instinctive
adherence
of
Egyptians
to
their
Islamic
heritage.
Ahmad
Lutfi
also
differed
with
those
who
sought
immediate
British
withdrawal.
In
his
mind,
the
British
presence
was
actually
beneficial.
It
would
enhance
the
modernization
of
the
Muslims.
So
he
and
Muhammad
Abduh
believed
that
Egypt
was
not
yet
ready
for
their
ideas,
and
the
continuation
of
the
British
presence
could
actually
further
secular,
liberal
ideas
in
Egyptian
society.
Only
after
that
was
achieved,
they
thought,
the
British
should
leave
Egypt.
But
there
were
limits
on
nationalism
in
this
period
before
the
First
World
War.
Very
many
people
still
had
a
very
strong
Islamic
Ottoman
allegiance.
This
was
indicated
in
a
very
strange
incident
of
drawing
the
border
between
Egypt
and
the
Ottoman
Empire,
in
a
negotiation
that
was
between
the
Ottomans
on
the
one
hand
and
the
British
as
the
de
facto
rulers
of
Egypt
on
the
other.
In
defining
the
boundary
between
Egypt
and
the
Ottoman
Empire,
that
boundary
which
is
presently
the
boundary
between
Egypt
and
Israel,
that
boundary
that
runs
from
Rafah
on
the
Mediterranean
to
Taba
and
Eilat
on
the
Red
Sea.
In
drawing
that
line
in
1906,
there
was
a
dispute
between
the
British
and
the
Ottomans
on
where
the
line
ought
to
go.
The
Egyptian
public,
in
this
debate,
supported
the
Ottomans
against
Egyptian
territorial
claims
because
these
territorial
claims
were
being
made
by
the
British,
and
the
people
still
felt
the
strong
allegiance
to
the
Ottomans.
There
were
also
continued
sectarian
tensions
between
Muslims
and
Coptic
Christians
in
Egypt.
The
Coptic
Christians
in
Egypt
were
naturally
very
attracted
to
the
idea
of
a
secular
Egyptian
nationalism.
Secular
nationalism
for
the
Christians,
like
in
other
parts
of
the
region,
was
very
attractive.
It
was
an
ideology
that
would
allow,
in
the
name
of
secular
nationalism,
for
Christians
and
Muslims
to
share
an
identity
as
equals.
If
the
community
is
to
remain
identified
by
Islam,
it
would
make
it
much
more
difficult
for
the
Christians
or
for
other
minorities
to
enjoy
equality
with
the
Muslim
majority.
So
there
were
tensions
between
the
Copts
and
the
Muslims
in
Egypt.
These
were
expressed,
for
example,
in
the
assassination
in
1910
of
the
Coptic
prime
minister
of
Egypt,
Butrus
Ghali.
He
was
assassinated
by
a
Muslim
who
accused
the
Copts
of
being
too
supportive
of
the
European
powers.
Copts,
as
a
result,
became
somewhat
disappointed
in
the
nationalist
movement
in
Egypt,
and
there
were
continued
Coptic-‐Muslim
suspicions
and
rivalry.
The
Copts
tended
to
stress
Egyptianness,
which,
as
already
mentioned,
was
far
more
convenient
for
them,
while
Muslims
still
attached
much
importance
to
Egypt's
Islamic
identity.
Now,
to
draw
some
conclusions
from
this
debate
about
nationalism.
Nationalism
remained
the
idea
of
a
select,
educated,
urban
minority.
It
was
not
the
ideology
of
the
masses,
certainly
as
long
as
the
Ottoman
Empire
continued
to
exist.
Most
people
were
still
influenced
in
the
main
by
Islamic
tradition
and
by
religious
identity.
Indeed,
the
old
education
system
had
lost
much
of
its
power.
It
no
longer
supplied
bureaucrats
and
judges
who
learned
in
the
new
schools.
Not
to
mention
the
army
officers
who
were
at
the
vanguard
of
political
and
social
change.
But
in
the
villages
of
the
rural
Middle
East,
the
old
order
was
still
very
strong.
The
Sufi
mystical
religious
orders
still
had
much
sway
over
the
people
and
the
popular
world
view.
Islam
remained
an
important
component
of
the
nationalist
movement,
and
one
could
not
effectively
mobilize
the
masses
without
it.
Islam
was
still
very
much
at
the
center
both
of
Arabism
and
of
Ottomanism.
Both
Arabism
and
Ottomanism
were
forms
of
nationalist
defense
against
the
West.
They
both
took
pride
in
the
past
greatness
of
Islam,
and
in
political
terms,
they
both
sought
the
preservation
of
the
Muslim
empire,
albeit
in
different
ways.
In
World
War
One,
we
come
to
the
end
of
the
Ottoman
Empire.
It
was
at
the
end
of
that
war
that
the
Ottoman
Empire
collapses
and
ceases
to
be
a
political
body
of
the
Middle
East.
So
how
did
World
War
One
change
things?
First
and
foremost,
World
War
One
brought
about
the
end
of
the
Ottoman
Empire
that
had
ruled
the
Arab
countries
for
400
years.
And
from
the
ruins
of
the
Empire,
the
modern
Middle
Eastern
state
system
was
built.
The
Ottoman
decision
to
side
with
Germany
and
Austria
in
the
war
essentially
decided
the
fate
of
the
Ottoman
Empire.
The
Western
powers,
Britain
and
France,
and
initially
the
Russians
too,
had
every
reason
and
interest
now
to
seek
the
Empire’s
defeat
and
its
dismemberment.
From
an
early
phase
in
the
war,
there
were
secret
talks
between
the
powers
about
carving
up
the
Empire.
The
Russians
wanted
the
Straits,
the
Bosphorus
and
the
Dardanelles.
The
French
wanted
Syria,
especially
the
coastal
area
and
Palestine
too.
The
British
wanted
Iraq,
because
of
the
Persian
Gulf
and
India,
and
the
connection
from
there
to
the
Mediterranean,
which
created
a
challenge
to
the
French
demands
there.
In
early
1916,
a
British
and
a
French
official,
Mark
Sykes
on
the
British
side
and
François
Georges-‐
Picot
on
the
French
side,
signed
the
notorious
Sykes-‐Picot
Agreement
that
divided
the
Arab
parts
of
the
Middle
East
between
Britain
and
France.
France
had
a
free
hand
in
Cilicia,
which
is
in
southern
Anatolia,
coastal
Syria
and
Lebanon,
and
a
sphere
of
influence
stretching
eastwards
towards
Mosul,
which
is
in
present-‐day
Iraq.
Britain
got
a
free
hand
in
Iraq
including
Basra
and
Baghdad,
and
a
sphere
of
influence
going
west
all
the
way
to
the
Mediterranean.
In
this
agreement,
Britain
also
got
the
ports
of
Haifa
and
Acre
in
Palestine,
and
much
of
the
rest
of
Palestine
was
put
under
an
international
administration
together
with
France
and
with
Russian
agreement.
Russia,
however,
was
overtaken
by
revolution
in
1917,
and
opted
out
of
the
colonial
spoils.
Who
were
the
Hashemites?
The
Hashemites
were
this
Muslim
family
of
very
prestigious
lineage.
They
were
descendents
of
the
Prophet
Muhammad.
The
Prophet
Muhammad
was
himself
a
member
of
the
house
of
Hashim.
The
leader
of
the
family
in
the
First
World
War
was
Hussein
Ibn
Ali,
who
was
the
Emir,
that
is
the
ruler
of
Mecca,
the
Muslim
holy
city,
as
the
representative
of
the
Ottoman
Empire.
But
even
though
the
rulers
of
Mecca
on
behalf
of
the
Ottomans,
the
Hashemites
had
their
own
grievances
with
the
Ottomans
and
had
great
aspirations
for
Arab
and
Islamic
leadership
on
their
own,
independent
of
the
Turks.
In
the
summer
of
1915,
they
entered
into
these
negotiations
with
the
British,
where
the
Hashemites
demanded
a
Caliphate
under
Hashemite-‐Arab
rule
that
would
rule
over
the
Arab
provinces
of
the
Ottoman
Empire.
The
British
believed
that
the
Arabs
would
contribute
to
the
war
effort,
if
they
rose
against
the
Turks.
If
they
had
a
promise
of
territorial
gain,
they
would
indeed
rise
against
the
Turks,
and
thus,
contribute
to
the
war
effort
against
the
Ottomans.
The
British
also
believed
that
siding
with
Arab
nationalism
would
serve
Britain’s
post-‐war
interests
in
the
Middle
East
in
their
competition
with
the
French.
That
is,
if
they
had
the
Arabs
on
their
side,
it
would
be
much
easier
for
them
to
exercise
British
imperial
control
of
the
Arabic-‐speaking
regions
in
the
Middle
East.
The
Middle
East
was
also
important
for
imperial
communications,
the
passage
to
India,
and
oil
for
the
great
British
fleet,
were
found
in
the
Middle
East.
This
was
critical,
as
an
area
of
communication,
to
the
backbone
of
their
imperial
power,
which
was
in
India.
So
what
were
the
reservations
that
the
British
made
in
the
McMahon-‐Hussein
correspondence?
First
of
all,
certain
areas
were
excluded
from
the
Arab
state
on
the
grounds
that
they
were
not
purely
Arab.
This
referred
especially
to
the
“portions
of
Syria
lying
to
the
west
of
the
districts
of
Damascus,
Hama,
Homs
and
Aleppo.”
British
promises
also
related
only
to
“those
portions
of
the
territories
wherein
Great
Britain
was
free
to
act
without
detriment
to
her
ally,
France.”
These
reservations
were
cause
for
great
controversy
after
the
war,
especially
on
the
question
of
Palestine.
But
it
was
not
that
the
British
had
promised
the
same
territories
to
different
players,
as
many
people
often
say
“Palestine,
the
twice-‐
promised
land.”
It
was
not
so.
In
fact,
there
was
no
real,
substantial
discrepancy
between
the
documents,
Sykes-‐Picot
and
the
Hussein-‐McMahon
correspondence,
and
thereafter
the
Balfour
Declaration.
Generally,
the
British
had
been
quite
consistent.
The
correspondence
was
just
that,
that
is,
it
was
just
a
correspondence.
It
was
not
an
agreement.
There
was
no
final
agreement,
but
just
the
presentation
of
positions.
What
the
Zionists
and
their
supporters
did
was
to
argue
that
by
the
word
districts,
the
documents
meant
the
equivalent
of
the
Ottoman
province,
vilayet.
If,
as
we
see
on
the
map,
the
Vilayet
of
Damascus
stretching
all
the
way
down,
including
what
is
today
Trans-‐Jordan,
if
one
looks
at
the
portions
of
Syria
west
to
the
Vilayet
of
Damascus,
that
would
exclude
Palestine.
If
indeed,
the
word
districts
refers
to
vilayets.
But
as
we
can
see
on
the
map,
Hama
and
Homs
were
not
vilayets.
And
to
the
west
of
the
Vilayet
of
Aleppo
is
only
the
Mediterranean
Sea.
So
the
exclusion
on
the
ground
that
district
means
vilayet
is
impossible.
Palestine
could
not
have
been
excluded
on
those
grounds.
What
they
did
mean,
in
the
exclusion
of
the
portions
of
Syria
lying
to
the
west
of
that
line,
was
to
Mount
Lebanon
and
to
the
Maronite
population
in
Mount
Lebanon,
who
did
not
see
themselves
as
Arabs.
But
then
there
is
the
other
reservation,
the
sentence
which
says
that
the
promises
to
the
Arabs
related
only
to
“those
portions
of
the
territories
wherein
Great
Britain
is
free
to
act
without
detriment
to
her
ally,
France.”
It
is
in
accordance
with
that
sentence
that
Britain
could
not
have
promised
Palestine
to
the
Arab
state
without
consulting
France.
After
all,
as
we
have
seen
in
the
Sykes-‐Picot
Agreement,
Palestine
is
an
area
in
which
the
French
share
responsibility
with
the
British.
So
the
question
is,
why,
for
years,
did
the
British
try
to
explain
that
the
exclusion
was
on
the
basis
of
this
impossible
vilayets
argument?
They
could
have
just
said
that
Palestine
was
excluded
because
of
the
previous
secret
understanding
with
France.
But
in
the
aftermath
of
the
First
World
War,
to
argue
that
the
territories
were
excluded
because
they
were
not
Arab
was
in
accordance
with
the
principle
of
self-‐determination.
Whereas
to
argue
in
the
name
of
secret
deals
with
the
French
or
other
colonial
powers
was
no
longer
politically
correct
in
the
aftermath
of
World
War
One.
In
the
aftermath
of
World
War
One,
with
the
rise
of
anti-‐colonial
powers
like
the
United
States
and
the
Soviet
Union,
it
was
no
longer
possible
to
argue
according
to
the
old
imperial
rules
of
secret
agreements
between
great
powers.
Self-‐determination
was
the
name
of
the
game,
also
according
to
the
principles
of
President
Wilson,
and
therefore
the
argument
about
either
inclusion
or
exclusion
had
to
be
made
in
the
name
of
self-‐determination,
even
if
in
terms
of
the
documentation,
they
could
not
make
sense.
The
British
had
their
own
interests
in
Palestine,
and
as
we
have
already
seen,
Palestine,
as
part
of
the
general
Middle
Eastern
area,
adjacent
to
the
Suez
Canal
and
the
passage
to
India,
was
very
important
to
the
British
for
their
imperial
security.
Prime
Minister
Lloyd
George
was
one
of
those
who
was
quick
to
recognize
the
imperial
interest
that
Britain
had
in
Palestine.
Lloyd
George
was
also
a
man
with
a
considerable
measure
of
religious
upbringing,
and
the
idea
of
a
British-‐protected
Jewish
colony
appealed
to
him
as
a
person
who
associated,
because
of
his
biblical
studies,
the
Jews
with
the
Holy
Land.
In
1917,
when
the
Balfour
Declaration
was
issued,
the
Allies’
position
in
the
war
was
in
a
rather
sorry
state.
The
war
was
slow
and
extremely
expensive
in
human
life
to
the
participants
on
both
sides,
and
there
was
a
great
hope
amongst
the
British
that
the
United
States
would
become
more
involved,
and
that
Russia
would
not
withdraw
from
the
war
because
of
its
internal
difficulties,
and
would
stay
involved
in
the
war.
The
British
thought,
if
they
expressed
support
for
Zionist
aspirations,
this
would
help
propaganda
in
the
U.S.
and
in
Russia
to
secure
greater
support
in
both
of
these
countries
for
the
war
effort.
So
they
believed
thanks
to
the
vast
Jewish
influence
that
existed
in
both
of
these
countries.
This
British
belief
that
support
for
Zionist
aspirations
would,
thanks
to
Jewish
influence,
help
propaganda
in
the
U.S.
and
Russia,
and
therefore,
provide
great
assistance
to
the
war
effort,
was
a
huge
exaggeration
about
Jewish
influence
in
these
respective
countries.
But
it
was,
nevertheless,
exaggeration
or
not,
a
reason
why
the
British
issued
the
Balfour
Declaration.
Now
we
must
turn
to
the
Declaration
itself
and
see
what
it
really
says.
In
this
letter,
from
the
British
Foreign
Secretary
to
the
leader
of
the
Jewish
community
in
Britain,
the
leader
of
the
Zionist
organization
in
England,
Lord
Rothschild,
the
British
government
in
the
Declaration
expressed
their
sympathy
for
Jewish
Zionist
aspirations.
Sympathy,
not
support.
This
was
a
word
chosen,
one
may
imagine,
with
great
caution.
The
British
were
being
extremely
limited
and
cautious
in
their
commitment
to
the
Zionist
enterprise.
“His
Majesty’s
Government,”
as
we
see
in
the
Declaration,
“view
with
favor,”
again,
less
than
outright
support,
“view
with
favor
the
establishment
in
Palestine
of
a
national
home
for
the
Jewish
people.”
So
let’s
dwell
for
a
bit
on
that
sentence.
“View
with
favor,”
not
outright
support,
“the
establishment
in
Palestine,”
not
the
conversion
of
Palestine
into
a
Jewish
national
home,
but
“the
establishment
in
Palestine
of
a
Jewish
national
home,”
and
that
could
be
on
a
very
limited
part
of
the
territory
of
Palestine.
But
it
is,
indeed,
“a
national
home
for
the
Jewish
people”
that
on
the
one
hand,
needs
a
recognition
of
the
Jewish
people
as
a
nation
with
a
right
to
self-‐determination.
But
on
the
other
hand,
it
does
not
speak
of
a
state,
it
speaks
only
of
a
national
home.
It
is
not
at
all
clear
what
that
really
does
mean.
The
British
government
will
use
their
best
endeavors,
the
document
says,
“to
facilitate
the
achievement
of
this
object,
it
being
clearly
understood
that
nothing
shall
be
done
that
may
prejudice
the
civil
and
religious
rights
of
existing
non-‐Jewish
communities
in
Palestine.”
So
let
us
dwell
for
a
moment
on
that
sentence.
Whatever
rights
may
be
recognized
for
the
Jews,
the
British
are
also
saying
that
“nothing
shall
be
done
which
may
prejudice
the
civil
and
religious
rights”
of
other
communities
in
Palestine.
But
for
the
other
communities
in
Palestine,
two
points
should
be
mentioned
here.
They,
the
other
communities,
only
have
civil
and
religious
rights.
No
national
rights
are
recognized
for
the
other
communities
in
Palestine.
Who
are
these
other
communities
in
Palestine?
They
are
defined
as
the
“non-‐Jewish
communities”
as
if
they
are
the
minority
in
Palestine
and
the
Jews
are
the
majority.
But
these
“non-‐Jewish
communities”
were
Arabs
(Muslims,
Christians)
having
an
identity
of
their
own
which
was
not
only
to
be
judged
by
being
non-‐Jewish.
There
is
no
recognition
of
their
separate
identity
nor
of
any
national
rights
associated
with
that
separate
identity.
But,
“nothing
shall
be
done
which
may
prejudice”
their
civil
and
religious
rights.
Therefore,
there
is
an
obvious
restriction
on
what
it
is
that
the
Jews
can
actually
do,
when
they
do
obtain
some
kind
of
political
presence
in
Palestine.
The
Zionists
understood
this
to
mean
the
support
for
a
Jewish
state
in
Palestine,
although
that
is
not
what
the
Declaration
actually
says.
As
the
British
historian
Malcolm
Yapp
has
said
about
the
Declaration,
it
was
virtually
meaningless
and
committed
Britain
to
nothing,
which
is
indeed
so.
However,
one
must
add
that
after
the
war,
when
Britain
became
the
mandatory
power
in
Palestine,
committed
to
the
League
of
Nations
to
implement
the
Balfour
Declaration,
then
Britain’s
commitment
to
the
Jews
began
to
mean
a
lot
more
than
just
this
Declaration.
Now
we
come
to
the
question
of
how
the
war
ended
in
the
Middle
East?
What
was
the
division
of
power
between
the
various
powers
that
took
over
what
was,
in
the
past,
the
Ottoman
Empire?
The
British
historian
and
journalist
Elizabeth
Monroe
defined
this
post-‐war
period
as
Britain’s
moment
in
the
Middle
East,
and
indeed,
Britain
was,
after
the
First
World
War,
by
far
the
superior
power
in
the
Middle
East.
The
Ottoman
Empire
had
come
to
an
end.
The
French,
who
were
completely
preoccupied
at
the
front
in
France,
could
spare
only
token
forces
for
the
Middle
East.
Russia
was
completely
preoccupied
by
revolution,
and
her
opting
out
of
the
war.
So
British
occupation
forces
were
in
most
of
the
Arab
areas
of
the
Empire.
They
were
in
Syria,
they
were
in
Iraq
and
they
were
in
Palestine.
And
there
was
only
a
small
French
force
in
Lebanon.
Faisal,
the
son
of
Hussein
Ibn
Ali
who
had
led
the
Arab
rebellion
against
the
Ottomans,
Faisal
at
the
end
of
the
war
was
in
control
of
an
Arab
state,
the
capital
of
which
was
Damascus
in
Syria,
which
was
taken
with
the
assistance
of
the
Arab
rebels
of
the
Arab
Revolt
at
the
end
of
the
war.
Faisal
remained
in
this
Syrian-‐Arab
state
under
his
control
until
1920,
when
he
was
finally
evicted
by
the
French
with
actual
British
agreement.
As
for
the
rest,
Britain
was
in
control
of
Egypt
and
the
Sudan.
Britain
was
also
in
control
of
Arabia
under
various
degrees
of
British
influence.
Very
important
French
concessions
were
made
to
the
British
in
Palestine
and
in
Iraq.
According
to
Sykes-‐Picot,
as
we
have
already
seen,
Palestine
was
to
be
shared
between
the
British
and
the
French.
But
after
the
war,
the
British
wanted
Palestine
for
themselves
and
had
no
interest
in
sharing
it
with
the
French.
The
British
wanted
Mosul,
which
was
to
be
part
of
French-‐influenced
Syria.
The
British
wanted
Mosul
to
be
part
of
British-‐influenced
Iraq.
Therefore,
the
French
conceded
both
in
Palestine
and
in
Mosul
to
the
British.
In
exchange,
the
British
allowed
the
French
to
take
over
Syria,
that
was
previously
in
the
hands
of
Faisal
and
the
Arab
rebellion,
and
to
expel
King
Faisal
from
Syria
in
July
of
1920.
Why
did
the
British
do
this?
Why
did
the
British
allow
the
French
to
take
Lebanon
and
Syria
clashing
and
defeating
Britain’s
own
Arab
allies?
How
could
the
British
have
allowed
that
to
happen?
To
understand
why
the
British
did
that,
one
has
to
understand
the
very
complicated
balance
between
European
and
Middle
Eastern
interests
in
British
foreign
policy.
British
foreign
policy
was
made
in
various
places.
Obviously
in
London,
but
in
Cairo,
too.
In
Cairo,
British
officials
were
in
great
support
of
an
Arab
solution,
that
is
to
create
a
series
of
Arab
states
in
alliance
with
the
British
and
not
necessarily
with
much
left
for
the
French.
But
in
London,
the
view
was
very
different.
From
London,
it
was
indeed
very
important
to
give
the
French
what
the
French
deserved
according
to
wartime
agreements
with
them,
even
though
they
had
very
little
power
in
the
Middle
East,
because
for
the
British
foreign
policy-‐makers
in
London,
France’s
importance
was
as
a
European
ally
against
Germany.
As
a
European
ally
against
Germany,
France
was
much
more
important
than
any
territory
in
Beirut,
in
Damascus
or
anywhere
else
in
the
Middle
East.
In
the
aftermath
of
the
war,
important
Arab
provinces
of
the
Ottoman
Empire
were
divided
into
territories
that
were
called
mandates,
given
to
the
British
and
to
the
French.
According
to
the
conference
of
the
victorious
European
powers
in
San
Remo
in
April
1920,
the
mandates
were
divided
in
the
following
fashion:
The
French
obtained
the
mandates
for
Lebanon
and
Syria;
the
British
obtained
the
mandates
for
Palestine,
Trans-‐Jordan
and
Iraq.
But
what
is
a
mandate?
And
why
was
the
mandate
terminology
invented
in
the
first
place?
The
mandate
was
an
essential
colonial
compromise
with
the
principle
of
self-‐determination.
In
the
aftermath
of
the
First
World
War
and
the
emergence
of
the
United
States
as
a
great
power,
and
the
principles
put
forth
by
President
Wilson,
above
all
else,
the
principle
of
self-‐determination,
one
could
not
simply
ignore
the
principle
of
self-‐determination
and
impose
endless
colonial
rule
on
foreign
territory.
The
mandate
was
a
colonial
compromise
whereby
the
mandate
power
committed
itself
to
guide
the
mandated
territory
to
self-‐determination
and
independence.
Thus
it
was
the
commitment
of
the
French
to
guide
Lebanon
and
Syria
towards
independence,
and
it
was
the
commitment
of
the
British
to
do
the
same
in
Palestine,
Trans-‐Jordan
and
Iraq.
In
reference
to
Turkey
and
what
was
left
of
the
Ottoman
Empire,
the
Turks
were
coerced
into
signing
in
their
defeat
the
Treaty
of
Sevrès
with
the
European
powers
in
August
1920.
The
Treaty
of
Sevrès
was
a
reflection
of
the
European
desire
to
punish
the
Turks,
to
enhance
the
prestige
of
the
European
powers
and
to
punish
the
Turks
as
an
Asian
power
who
had
urged
Muslims
everywhere
to
rise
against
their
European
rulers.
They
must
pay.
The
Greeks
landed
in
Izmir
in
May
1919.
This
was
an
extreme
humiliation
for
the
Turkish
people.
Not
just
a
foreign
power,
but
a
foreign
power
who,
for
centuries,
had
been
under
Turkish
domination.
There
were
demands
of
the
Armenians
in
eastern
Anatolia
for
an
independent
state
of
their
own.
The
Turkish
nationalist
movement,
for
its
part,
demanded
Turkish
control
of
all
the
areas
within
the
national
boundaries
that
were
inhabited
by
a
Muslim
majority
at
the
time
of
the
armistice
that
ended
the
war.
This
was
not
only
the
end
of
Empire,
but
the
conversion
of
Turkey
into
a
European
semi-‐colonial
dependency.
The
Turks
rose
in
rebellion
and
waged
what
for
the
Turks
would
be
a
glorious
war
of
liberation.
That
Turkish
war
of
liberation
changed
the
reality
on
the
ground
to
such
an
extent
that
Sèvres
became
a
dead
letter
and
was
replaced
by
another
treaty
later
on.
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