Thus for him to fight the Arabs’ battle was a forlorn hope, spiritually even more than politically. To wipe out the stain was impossible, because it lay in his own consciousness. But he could at least pursue the atonement that was within possibility, not for his sake but for theirs. To this endeavour he now gave himself, despite his own sense of the ultimate futility of all such endeavour.
The purpose was imperilled by the Sykes-Picot treaty, now to be the insuppressible stumbling block, and by the expansionist ambitions that lay behind it. Those ambitions swayed both French and British action, yet with characteristic differences.
The French were guided by a logical policy emanating from Paris and with its roots in a retentive memory. Their claim to Syria went far back into the Middle Ages, being founded on the Latin kingdoms which the crusading wave had left like flotsam on the Levantine coast. During the World War their dislike of seeing an ally established on this ancestral soil seems to have been as strong a check as their preoccupation with the Germans on their own soil in limiting their contribution to the campaign against Turkey in Asia. This parsimony had cramped their representatives on the spot, although these sought to make up for their weakness by their activity—not merely in the political sphere, for it is just to recognize that Pisani’s single battery in the Arab zone had more military influence than a hundred batteries in France.
But despite the apparent indifference which so exasperated poor Colonel Brémond, the directors of French policy never seem to have lost sight of post-war purposes from the moment when, in March, 1915, they had laid claim to Syria as soon as they heard that the Russians had put forward their claim to Constantinople. If the French marked time in the Levant while the war was continuing, they were ready to make their advance directly the victory was won, and to reinforce it both with military forces and with an elaborate development of their traditional claim to be regarded as the protectors of Christendom in the eastern Mediterranean as well as the modern protectors of Islam in the southern. It was, however, unfortunate that the Syrian Moslems regarded them as having been too protective in Algeria and Tunis.
If the French have the longest of memories, the British have the shortest. On the whole this has been an advantage, allowing adaptation of policy to reality. Yet it has certain inconveniences especially when dealing with people who do not so easily forget. Neither French nor Arabs were inclined to forget the somewhat contradictory assurances they had received from British representatives, and victory strengthened their memories as well as their appetites. Thus Britain was impaled on the horns of a dilemma. To satisfy one ally would mean not only breaking faith but also raising trouble with the other.
The dilemma might to a large extent be ascribed to a failure of foresight. For when the Arabs had been given assurances to the effect that they could keep what they conquered there had seemed little prospect of their carrying fulfilment so far. Indeed, it was in the summer of 1918 that the most deinite pledge of all was given. For on June 11th, in reply to a Syrian memorial, the British Government announced that, in regard to any areas freed from Turkish rule during the war by the action of the Arabs themselves, they recognized the complete and sovereign independence of the Arabs in them, and supported them in their struggle for freedom. It is strange that so sweeping a declaration, without any of the 1915 reservations, should have been made at so late a stage in the war. Yet in June it may scarcely have appeared possible, especially to anyone who had not been in contact with Lawrence, that the trickle of Arabs then blocked before Ma‘an could have spread like a flood through Syria by October, to occupy Deraa, Damascus, Beirut and Aleppo ahead of the British troops.
One may find more than a flavour of irony in the fact that the way to this unexpectedly great achievement, so awkward in its consequences, had been cleared by a British victory, and paved by an Englishman’s genius for the leadership of native peoples. In earlier times the export of that kind of genius, which inevitably withers where bureaucracy spreads, had been responsible for bringing many new territories under Britain’s imperial sway. But in the latest product a higher power of conscience was added to the old power of command, and it proved an imperial complication.
The position was also complicated by variety of views among Britain’s counsellors. That healthy variety is advantageous in the long run, the secret of her endurance, but in the treatment of immediate problems its disadvantages are more manifest. While the British Government’s policy had none of the clear-cut definiteness of the French, and carried even to excess its traditional opportunism, some representatives were inspired by the historic aim of extending, British control over less civilized lands.
It is just to recognize that certain of these apostles of expansion were guided not by mere imperialism but by a reasoned belief in the benefits of British administration, as a means of assuring to the people as a whole a higher degree of justice than usually prevails in Asiatic communities. This is a point of view which has hardly received its deserts, being overshadowed on the one hand by the liberal idealization of nationalism, and submerged on the other by the hard-dying conservatism that still confuses largeness with greatness. Another factor which influenced, the advocates of British control, especially in Mesopotamia, was a belief in the practical difficulties of setting up an effective Arab administration in immediate substitution for the Turkish.
But whatever their motives their hopes were threatened with shipwreck by the gust of “self-determination” which had travelled across the Atlantic and the high waves of nationalism that this was raising. The vessel was kept afloat for a time by strenuous efforts, only to be abandoned in the end. And in these efforts, unfortunately, England’s, honour had gone overboard. Rescue was delayed not only by the desire to cling on to Mesopotamia but also by the ill-considered step in the Sykes-Picot Agreement whereby the Mosul vilayet was placed in the French sphere. Thus, partly in order to preserve the unity of Mesopotamia, to the Arabs’ future benefit, the British Government was drawn to sacrifice her pledge to uphold Arab sovereignty in Syria.
That situation developed slowly. The prospect had seemed bright and the Sykes-Picot treaty no more than a cloud on the horizon, when at the end of October, 1918, Allenby organized the military administration of the occupied territory, and divided it into three areas. “South,” under a British administrator, embraced Palestine and tallied with the Sykes-Picot “Red” zone. “North,” under a French administrator, was the Sykes-Picot “Blue” zone on the coast of Syria. “East” was a much longer and wider belt from Aleppo past Damascus down to Aqaba. It embraced the old “A” and “B” zones so far as they had been conquered by Allenby’s forces. Fulfilling his promise to Feisal, Allenby placed this great belt under Arab military administration. Moreover, in deference to Arab susceptibilities, a small section of the old Blue zone south-east of Beirut was included in the eastern area.
Then, on November 7th, the French and British Governments issued a joint declaration that—
“The goal aimed at by France and Great Britain . . . is the complete and definite freedom of the peoples so long oppressed by the Turks, and the establishment of national governments and administrations deriving their authority from the initiative and free choice of the native population.
“In order to fulfil these intentions, France and Great Britain are agreed in the desire to encourage and assist in the establishment of native governments and administrations in Syria and Mesopotamia. . . . Far from wishing to impose on the populations of these regions such or such institutions, they have no other care than to assure by their support and practical aid the normal working of the governments and institutions which these populations have freely set up.”
Whatever doubts there may be of its wisdom, this declaration alone suffices to justify Lawrence’s oft-criticized course during the post-war settlement, and to condemn all those who in France or Britain strove for other aims. There could be no other course consistent with Britain’s honour than to uphold the clear meaning of his declaration.
Yet what a supreme irony it carries in the light of subsequent history!
Lawrence’s departure from Damascus as soon as the military victory was secured gave him the chance to fight this battle for England’s honour and his own, in the only place where it could be won. But he had not expected that it would come so soon—because he had not anticipated that Germany’s collapse would follow quite so quickly on Turkey’s. The immediate reason for his timely transition from East to West is best given in his own words, most characteristic—“I had finished—what better reason? The Arab Revolt and the Turkish War were also finished. What was in my mind as I went towards London was to begin again—as a junior officer—in France, learning the new way of war. The East was sucked dry. Never outstay a climax.”
To expedite his journey to England he not only accepted but requested what might be called an “honour or reward”—the rank of full colonel. His disregard for such distinctions had become so notorious that his application caused amusement. This increased when he explained that he merely wanted the rank, and as temporary as possible, in order to travel home quickly through Italy on the special staff-train from Taranto. “Sleeping berths were given only to full colonels and upward. I travelled with Chetwode, with the local (Allenby-conferred) rank of colonel: and so was comfortable. I like comfort! Troop trains took eight days, and the Wagon Lits Express only three.” He enjoyed referring to this brief promotion subsequently as his “Taranto rank.” The jest gained further point from an incident which occurred there while waiting for the train. Seeing a major inflict what seemed to him a needless humiliation on two men for their neglect to salute, Lawrence used his own superior rank to give the major a lesson in military courtesy—after icily reminding the offender of the true meaning of the salute he ordered him to return the men’s salutes.
After Lawrence’s arrival he was summoned to a meeting of the Eastern Committee of the Cabinet to give his views on the future of the Arab countries. He proposed the creation of three Sheriian states, in Syria, Upper Mesopotamia, and Lower Mesopotamia, with three sons of King Hussein as their rulers. The suggestion was telegraphed out to Colonel A. T. (later Sir Arnold) Wilson, the Acting Civil Commissioner in Mesopotamia, who received it somewhat coolly and commented on it more hotly, misliking both the division of Mesopotamia and the removal of British administration.
Still more serious, if less frank, opposition was already preparing in French quarters. Picot had landed at Beirut on November 6th as “French High Commissioner in Syria and Armenia.” On the 14th he telegraphed to Paris—”as long as the British Army occupies the country there will be a doubt in the spirit of the population, favouring those who are hostile to us. The only remedy is to send twenty thousand soldiers to Syria and ask England to hand it over to us . . . . If we hesitate . . . our position will be ruined in Syria as it has been in Palestine.” Picot was already disgruntled because the Arab administrator of area “East” dealt directly with Allenby instead of through himself.
Then the French heard that Feisal was going to London at the invitation of the British Government—which they attributed to Lawrence’s machinations. They sent a stiff message to Hussein, to say that Feisal would be received in France with the honours due to the son of an allied ruler but expressing their surprise that the passage had not been arranged through their representative. Brémond, now back in France, was ordered to meet Feisal. He was told by the French Foreign Office that he was to treat Feisal as “a general, a person of distinction, but not to recognize him in any diplomatic character.” “With Lawrence, it is necessary to be very blunt, showing him that he is going the wrong way.” According to Brémond’s published account, the qualification was added—“If Lawrence comes as a British colonel, in English uniform, he will be welcomed. But we do not accept him as an Arab, and if he remains disguised we shall have nothing to do with him.”
Feisal came on a British cruiser and was met by Lawrence. Brémond did not succeed in intercepting them until they reached Lyon, on November 28th. Feisal was promptly notified of the Government’s attitude towards Lawrence, who accordingly decided to leave the same evening by train for England. Contrary to Brémond’s statement, he had not worn Arab dress, so that Brémond must either have suffered a lapse of memory or have introduced the excuse to cover up the French Government’s breach of courtesy.
Here one may add that the frequency of Lawrence’s appearances in Arab dress has been much exaggerated. He wore it once to an evening party—for amusement; he wore it to be painted by Augustus John; he wore it when he accompanied Feisal to Buckingham Palace as his interpreter. His appearance shocked a certain person who in rebuke said—“Is it right, Colonel Lawrence, that a subject of the Crown, and an officer too, should come here dressed in foreign uniform?” Lawrence quietly replied—“When a man serves two masters and has to offend one of these, it is better to offend the more powerful. I’ve come here as interpreter to the Emir Feisal, whose uniform this is.” in Paris he did not don Arab dress but wore an Arab headcloth with khaki uniform and British badges on a few occasions—to the Council of Ten, when interpreting for Feisal, and to be photographed with Feisal.
After a tour of the old battle-front, Feisal and his escort reached Boulogne on December 9th. The boat lay alongside the quay, and Lawrence was seen coming down the gangway to meet them. After saluting Feisal he gave Brémond a cordial invitation to accompany the party to England, adding the assurance that he would be well received. One perceives the tinge of ironical humour.
After showing Feisal round England Lawrence returned, like him but independently, to Paris in January for the Peace Conference. This time the French could no longer make objections to Lawrence’s presence, as he had been appointed a member of the Foreign Office delegation for Eastern affairs. But they opposed Feisal’s, and only gave way, Clemenceau overruling his subordinates, after British and American intervention. Feisal had asked no more than to be admitted to the Conference as the representative of his father, who was recognized merely as King of the Hejaz. Even to secure this position had been difficult because of Hussein’s jealous suspicion of his son’s aims; Lawrence had to pull various strings somewhat strongly before, in mid-December, Feisal’s nomination was obtained. And it was limited by the fact that Hussein’s right to a voice in the future of Syria and Mesopotamia was not openly conceded.
But in reality the voice of Lawrence, who had constituted himself counsel for the Arab cause, carried penetratingly through the antechambers of Versailles, into the innermost chambers. His achievement was the more remarkable because the cause he was representing introduced a complication which no statesmen already enmeshed in a world-tangle could be expected to welcome.
On Lloyd George especially his arguments made an impression, helped by the British Prime Minister’s instinctive sympathy towards the rights of small or submerged peoples. Although so different in their mental make-up, the two men came to appreciate each other. In Lawrence’s view Lloyd George not only towered above the other statesmen at Versailles, but differed from almost all of them in having a real desire to do what was right, instead of merely playing for national advantage. This comment is the more worth mention because it strikes an unusual note. Again, such incidents as when Lloyd George asked where Teschen was, a question which has often been scornfully quoted against him, made a different impression on Lawrence than on others. For he has remarked to me that Lloyd George was the only man who would have asked such questions instead of pretending that he knew—and remaining ignorant.
On the other side, Lawrence’s gift of clear exposition was keenly appreciated by Lloyd George, who had suffered much from official experts who cloaked their own supericiality of thought with diffuse explanations that were no better than ritualistic incantations. To Lloyd George, Lawrence set out not only the Arab problem as he saw it but also the solution he had in mind. If his main concern was to see Feisal established at Damascus as the head of an independent Syrian State, leaving the northern coast and the Lebanon to the
French, he regarded the setting up of a similar state in Mesopotamia as the necessary complement, to avoid trouble no less than to render justice. The Arabs of the desert should retain their essential independence—of the new States and the old Powers alike.
But the French desire for control of Syria was the block across the approaches to such a solution, just as the British reluctance to relinquish Mesopotamia was the brake on all our efforts to induce the French to modify their attitude. There was a delusive ray of hope when an inter-allied commission was appointed to visit Syria, Palestine and Mesopotamia to report on the feeling of the people as to their future government. But the brightness of that honourable gesture was soon tarnished. The French took care not to appoint a representative, and although the American members went, their report was allowed to fade from neglect. Their verdict had been that a French mandate would be wholly unacceptable.
Although these were depressing months for Lawrence, they at least failed to wither his sense of humour—the Peace Conference was perhaps too fruitful of opportunities. Even in the thorniest soil shoots appeared. One of the most apt stories relates to Lawrence’s meetings with Marshal Foch, who is said to have remarked—“I suppose now that there will soon be war in Syria between my country and the Arabs? Will you be leading their armies?” “Not unless you promise to lead the French armies in person. Then I should enjoy it.” Whereupon Foch, wagging his finger at Lawrence, is supposed to have answered—“My young friend, if you think that I’m going to sacrifice the reputation that I’ve built up on the Western Front by fighting you on your ground, you are very much mistaken.”
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