Lebanon

So much to “cover”!  This week, I wanted to connect the growing dissonance about belonging with its violent consequences in the 1960s, 70s and 80s. The era was so fraught that Billy Joel seemed the best introduction as the students got settled.

I began by talking about the exercise Thursday, trying to reckon with the perspectives of each of the three authors so we could figure out what happened.  Analyzing sources is important, I argued, and we can learn even from explicitly “untrue” sources.  My example: fairytales.  What can we learn from such fiction?  They offered terrific ideas: methods of economic production (pricked her finger on a spindle), kinds of housing, value structures, forests as frightening, class divisions, and others.

At the same time, I emphasized, all sources are not equally valid or trustworthy or believable.  Corroborating evidence is always essential.  So rejecting a source because you disagree or because their tone seems strident isn’t helpful.  I reminded them of the need for a historian to have a split screen.

And the only question from Thursday was really helpful in discussion which things matter: “Was the economic situation as important as the human rights situation in wanting to overthrow the government?”  Different historians focus on different things in trying to understand the past, so the answer would depend on which historians one read or talked to.

One of the four basic themes on which we are focusing this semester is the question of who belongs.  The Lebanese civil war of the 1970s is a devastating window into the issue, and its antecedents offer perspective and context.  So I began with a map of the French division of “Syria” during the mandate and the longstanding European demand to be able to “protect” Ottoman minorities.  Their “protection” led to the 1943 National Pact, which offered an opportunity to remind the students of their readings on the 1860 Damascus riots and the problem of borders that came after World War I.

Then I introduced another strand: the refugees from the creation of Israel in 1948, the new refugees from the war in 1967, and the establishment of competing Palestinian nationalist organizations.  As Palestinians began to emulate the Algerian liberation movement, they tried to create a space in Jordan from which to operate.  Jordan’s King Hussein, threatened by the hijackings that followed, along with Israeli strikes against Palestinian bases on the border, attacked the Palestinian organizations, resulting in thousands of dead.  I talked about three consequences:

  • the creation of Black September, the organization that carried out the Munich Olympics hostage crisis
  • the new refugees flooding into Lebanon and destabilizing the precarious religious balance institutionalized in the 1943 Lebanese National Pact
  • the alienation of non-Palestinian residents of Jordan.

Readings for this week included discussions of the We Are All Jordan campaign of the last decade, and descriptions of the changing geographic boundaries within Beirut as a result of the civil war.

But in addition to demography and war, analyzing Lebanon’s economy is also essential to understand the outbreak of war in the 1970s.  I described the gap between Beirut, Playground of the Rich on one hand, and Beirut, Slums for the Poor on the other, and a political/economic system in which each of the confessional groups were represented among the wealthiest 4%, who seem to have encouraged them to identify with co-religionists instead of with the other underemployed and impoverished people in the city’s surroundings.  Then I briefly compared the Lebanese Nationalist Movement’s and the Phalange’s positions on confessional politics, reform, and restricting Palestinian fighters on Lebanese soil.  After a very brief mention of the horrors of the civil war, I tried to summarize the connections among the three “minority” issues in the neighboring states.  It seemed a long lecture, and I never even got to the Israeli invasion in 1982.

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Revolutionary Middle East, Thursday version

I was pleased with the format Tuesday, with the students’ participation in constructing the narrative and thinking about the implications.  But I couldn’t figure out how to provide enough background for their discussions.  They were reading too broadly this week (what was I thinking?): a Nasser speech, Fanon on torture, the Eisenhower Doctrine, and two chapters from Nadje al-Ali’s wonderful book, Iraqi Women: Untold Stories from 1948 to the Present.  Their journal was to be on whether these events really constituted revolutions.  So I had to provide at least the background for the Algerian war, Iraq 1958, Nasser 1952, Mossadegh 1953, and the Suez Crisis.  It seemed to me that they all fit together, but they were obviously too much for one lecture.

I wanted to focus on France and Algeria for the welcoming music, but since I couldn’t decide which Rai to play, I did two, beginning when only a few students had arrived.

I had decided that I would begin the lecture with a Poll Everywhere poll on the biggest issues of the era.  I would take their responses, create a word cloud with wordle, and then talk about the issues raised by the biggest words (most frequently used in the students’ responses) in order.  I had prepared the PowerPoint to be flexible.  But the system was down!   (Poll Everywhere was very apologetic, claimed this wouldn’t be repeated.)

Face to face with the problem of technology: sometimes it doesn’t work.  It took me most of the hour to regain my footing.  But what followed was not my finest hour as a teacher.  I was flustered, and reverted to a standard lecture, in chronological order.  Iran, oil and the cold war (Mossadegh 1953) followed by the Sinai Suez Crisis (Great Powers, Super Powers, Nasser and Israel), and the Algerian revolution.  The only redeeming elements:

First, I love this BBC clip on the 1956 Sinai-Suez crisis, especially when thinking about 2002-3 and Iraq.

And second, I juxtaposed de Toqueville and a colon legislator on the effects of the French on Algerian society.

I scrambled to the end, trying to remind us all of the big picture concerns as I finally wound down and hoping that they would think about the bigger issues in discussion sections.

Zionism, Identities and Nations

I was not happy to realize that I had only allowed one week for the interwar period, and it had to include Zionism and Palestine.  This isn’t the first time that my syllabus seemed to have been created by a phantom whose plans were different than mine.

I decided to turn the dilemma into an opportunity: I would connect the issues attending the new postwar borders and identities with the development of political Zionism, to embed the Palestine mandate into the regional—and global—history of which it is part.

I welcomed them with a wonderful collection of images of Palestine set to music, then proceeded to questions from last week.  After reviewing the World War I settlement and the mandates, I reminded them of identity issues around the Mosul Question, which they had discussed in sections last week.  I wanted to give them another example of the ambiguity of national identities: the Sanjak Question.  I told them the story of Yusuf:

Yusuf, a fisherman in the coastal city of Alexandretta, was intercepted by Nedim Ward and two other Arab nationalists sitting at Ali’s café on the morning of May 4, 1938. They demanded to know why Yusuf, an Arabic-speaking Alawite, was wearing a hat with a brim, symbol of Kemal Ataturk’s revolutionary Turkish nationalism.  A poor man, Yusuf responded that he had no other head covering to wear.  Nedim Ward handed Yusuf twenty francs, telling him to go buy himself a fez.  In response, Yusuf ripped off his own brimmed hat, threw it on the ground, and immediately purchased a fez from a nearby shop.  As he was leaving the store, he encountered two Turkish nationalists, who crushed his new fez and demanded, “Come, show us who destroyed the hat.” When the Turkish nationalists encountered Nedim Ward and his friends, the confrontation described in Alexandretta’s police records began.

My research suggests that national identities in the Middle East did not emerge before World War I, except among small groups.  For many, like Yusuf, a hat was simply a hat and not an identity–they already had many collective identities and nationalism had no resonance.  That meant presenting Sharif Husayn not as an Arab nationalist (as Antonius had in his classic The Arab Awakening), but instead as a would-be King seeking his kingdom from the British.  Rethinking the emergence of nationalism requires providing a different narrative of the interwar period that focuses on anti-colonialism instead of identity politics.

The new frame helps place Zionism in a broader context.  The Zionist movement was a European-style nationalist movement, dissimilar from the anti-colonial sentiments that drove the 1920 opposition to British and French occupations in Iraq, Palestine, and Syria.

To talk about Zionism, I actually began with the “Jewish Problem,” centuries of attacks on Europe’s Jews based, first, on religion and then on race.  After providing some details, I asked the students to think about the treatment of Ottoman minorities under the Tanzimat, and the problems of how to deal with internal “others.”  What were the options for resolving the “Jewish Problem,” I asked?  I should have anticipated their reticence.  They did, after a bit of persistence, come up with the various alternatives: conversion (more difficult after racialization), expulsion, ghettoization, assimilation, or state-creation (like Liberia).

Then we moved to France in 1870, the aftermath of French defeat at the hands of the Prussians.  The parallel with the Ottomans was striking: how to deal with defeat?

  • Return to the faith (construct Sacré Coeur basilica)?
  • Or modernize (Eiffel Tower), especially the army?

It was the latter, the creation of a military meritocracy, that led to the rise of Captain Dreyfus, a Jew, to the rank of Captain.  The students, I hope, understood the parallel—the range of Ottoman responses to defeat were remarkably similar.

Covering the humiliation of Captain Dreyfus for treason based on little evidence (and subsequently overturned), assimilated Austrian Jewish journalist Theodor Herzl decided that, if the French couldn’t provide equality to Jews, no one could.  They needed a state of their own, because, he argued, Jews were a nation.  He rejected the other options the students (and Herzl’s contemporaries) had proposed, claiming none would solve the “Jewish Question.” This new kind of Zionism was based on nationalism, the idea that the Jews were a separate nation that could never fit in anywhere else.   The Zionists decided that they needed to establish their state in Palestine.

How could they decide to set up somewhere that others already lived?  I showed them the map of the world c. 1914, in which Europeans obviously had no hesitation about controlling lands on other continents.  The Palestine to which the Zionists arrived was the southern part of the Ottoman province of Syria, in the midst of Tanzimat reforms, self-strengthening movements, and debates over how to move into the future.

Zionists insisted that the lack of national identity in the region meant no one else had rights to the land; only nations had claims to territory–consistent with European notions–and the Palestinians were not yet claiming a specifically national identity.  The existence of farms and schools and churches and mosques and cemeteries were not relevant to those whose political and ideological world was circumscribed by notions of nation.

WWI: Remaking the Middle East

I was very excited about this class on World War I and the Middle East.  This is where I start many of my public lectures, arguing that it is impossible to understand the region without taking into account the new state system installed at war’s end.

For the effects of WWI in the Middle East, I  welcomed them (of course) with the trailer for Lawrence of Arabia.  I used my review of Ottomans in the War to explain why the British were worried enough (besieged in Kut, pinned down at Gallipoli) to make promises to Sharif Husayn: if he were to lead an uprising against the Ottomans, he would become King of Arab lands.  I asked them to think about the Sykes-Picot map from Tuesday, and read them the Balfour declaration.  I asked them to think about Woodrow Wilson, who put all of these promises into a new context

After the Bolshevik revolution, when the “Arab revolt” forces learned of the wartime promises, the French and British issued a joint declaration explaining that “The aim of France and Great Britain in carrying on in the Near East the war let loose by Germany’s ambitions is the complete and final liberation of the peoples so long oppressed by the Turks and the establishment of governments and administrations deriving their authority from the initiative and the free choice of the native populations.”

So there were many and conflicting promises, along with Wilson’s commitment to self-government and the Great Powers’ insistence on liberation.  How, I asked, could these promises be reconciled?  I asked the students to figure it out together, and then post their group response using Poll Everywhere.  Their answers ranged from imposing colonial governments on the region, to negotiated settlements, to ignoring European interests in favor of independence for the people.  A colleague had told me about Wordle, a neat little program that could create a word cloud from free responses to Poll Everywhere.  The preponderance of ideas is clear from the size of the words:

Mandates, of course, were the answer, and the students had read article 22 of the League of Nations Covenant and knew about the project.  I wanted to re-introduce local agency, too long missing in discussions of peace treaties and Great Power interests, by talking about Syrian resistance to the French mandate and the 1920 uprising against the British in Iraq.  Once again (and again and again), it was clear that local populations would not welcome foreign invasions.  Unwilling to commit more treasure and lives to Iraq, the British created a façade of local governance, imposing an Arab king by botched plebiscite and assigning British “advisers” to all government agencies.  To whom were the newly appointed rulers responsible, local populations or the Europeans who had appointed them?

The limits of sovereignty will arise again and again in the post-Ottoman period, as they have arisen already in the course.  Here are my summary of the new state system, and the students’ questions:

World War I

I was convinced and energized.  Instead of “covering” everything, I would introduce the enormous changes that World War I brought to the Middle East, emphasizing the big stuff and letting some of the details go by the wayside.  The students could use discuss the details they had read about for the week in sections to verify, refute, or lend color to the big question.

The big question, of course, was the fate of the defeated Ottoman Empire after the war.  The maps shows how dramatic the change was:

I welcomed them with one of the more depressing and relevant videos I will show all semester: Eric Bogle’s “And The Band Played Waltzing Mathilda” illustrated by images of the battle at Gallipoli. 

After briefly reviewing the Thursday (data dump) lecture, I asked the students to help update our mindmap.    I wanted them to think about European interests in the Ottoman Empire (economic, strategic, political), interests that would help determine the future of the empire after its defeat.

I reduced the causes of World War I to three minutes (an outrageous travesty!) so I was able to spend a bit more time on three big Ottoman wartime experiences: the battle of Gallipoli, the siege of Kut, and the Armenian genocide.

My bigger interests were the postwar settlements.  I reminded them about the efforts of the European Great Powers to keep the empire intact in order to prevent conflict over the remains.  In that context, the 1916 Sykes-Picot agreement made sense: Russia, Britain and France awarded each other control over their favorite places to avoid postwar conflict.  The 1920 Treaty of Sèvres extended the dissection of central Ottoman lands, but it was made moot by the Greek invasion of Anatolia.

The postwar settlement allowed me to return to major course issues: the question of belonging (the Armenian genocide and the Greek-Turkish population exchange), the intervention of outsiders (invasion, occupation and treaty imposition); the lives and livelihoods of the people (devastation of war and the population exchange), and the nature of the state.  There was too little time to explain the long-term implications of Kemalist ideology (to which we will return), but they loved this video synopsis of Ataturk’s life.

Europeans, Ottomans, and Minorities

The students are reading two versions of the horrific massacres in Damascus in 1860, when Muslims killed Christians, one of the first instances of religious violence in the region for a long time.  There has been a lot written about the violence, but what I wanted to do was have them think about what I’ve been thinking about in my own research.  What are the options for how one treats “minorities”?

I began, as always, with a video to try to wake them up, and this one worked wonders!  It’s based on Tennyson’s “Charge of the Light Brigade,” and I wanted to end with the Crimean War.  (The students seemed either horrified or amused!)

I have been using Poll Everywhere to take attendance, since their phones are registered in the system.  I do a quiz every day, usually about definitions or locations.  This one is the first they really missed:After one of the students came into my office confused about Muhammad Ali’s relationship with Napoleon, I decided to do a brief synopsis of the story to date (the TA’s liked this).  I wonder if my focus on the big issues is leaving them confused about events. Clearly, they need to know enough detail to make interpretations and see how historians work.

I had left class on Tuesday worried about my description of Christian privileges that resulted from European “protection.”  So I began with a broad question: based on their readings for this week (1860 Damascus massacres), the Tanzimat proclamations describing Ottoman reform measures from last week, their discussions about “outsiders” from Tuesday, they were to brainstorm in small groups. What are all the possible ways for institutionalizing relations between majorities and minorities?  Once they had listed them, they needed to choose the best option, and take it to another group and see if they agree.  The students texted the consensus decisions to the Poll Everywhere slide behind me.  Their proposals fell into three groups, all tried at various places in the recent past:

  1. Majority rules. Minorities have to adapt.
  2. Minorities should have the right to live their own culture/religion/society and provisions should be made for them
  3. Individuals should have free choice about how to live.

I reassured them that we would return to all of these in time.

The Ottomans came closest to the second of these options, and I described the millet institutions and the use of multiple legal systems.  Abd al-Qadir, an Algerian nationalist hero living in Damascus at the time of the massacres, became the obvious character to describe varied Muslim responses to non-Muslims.

The man who led the fight against French colonialism in the early years after France’s 1830 invasion of Algeria had been defeated and exiled to Syria.  There he protected hundreds of Christians during the violence described in the readings for this week.  Although the French claimed that Abd al-Qadir’s protection of Damascene Christians indicated that he had reversed his previous antipathy to their invasion of Algeria, neither he nor his supporters thought anything of the kind.  He had opposed a foreign invasion.  He had protected Christians, which for him was a duty incumbent upon Muslims because of the special protected status Christians enjoyed in Muslims lands as “peoples of the book.”  His fight against the French invasion of Algeria was anti-colonial, not anti-Christian.  His protection of Christians was Muslim, not pro-French.

But that made the 1860 massacres even more difficult to understand, so I suggested that there is a difference between prescriptive “Islam” and the behavior of Muslims.  This may be easy to understand in a largely Baptist environment where what “Christianity” demands and what Christians do are often dissimilar.  Because this is a history course, we don’t focus much on the way faith is supposed to be but instead on the ways it is mobilized and articulated at specific times in the past.  We are concerned with what Muslims have done, and they have done a wide variety of things.  We can no more attribute the horror of September 11, 2001 to “Islam” than we can attribute the horrors of fascism to “Christianity,” even though the perpetrators of both claimed they were motivated by faith.

I needed to continue my meta-history mini-lecture, thinking about where I had left them after the last class.  I had tried to explain why Muslims in Damascus might have been angry at Christians, angry enough to commit terribly violence.  How is it possible to understand the perpetrators?  More importantly, are we supposed to understand the perpetrators?  This has become a bit of a political argument in the United States of late.  Academics have been accused of “supporting” terrible crimes just by trying to understand the motivations behind them.

If we don’t try to understand the perpetrator, we risk having any crime be simply “incomprehensible,” any criminal simply “barbaric,” with no possibility of prevention or reconciliation.  Once this sort of attitude is directed at whole populations (Muslims, Arabs, and Africans are the most common in history texts), warring groups are assumed to be motivated by “savagery.”  As a result, of course, colonialism, rapacity, slavery, or bombings cannot be mentioned–the violence arises out of nothing more than the character flaws of the population.  Challenging as it is, then, for many of us, one of our jobs is to explain the motivations of the perpetrators (whether the Africans at Omdurman or the British).

My solution: historians must have a split screen, the ability to hold two things in mind at the same time.  For example, we have to be able to actually understand the arguments Israelis and Palestinians make and hold them in our minds at the same time.  In my research, I have to understand–simultaneously– the motivations of Venizelos and the Turkish nationalists in 1921.  So my quoting of the US Ambassador in 1835 saying that Christians had privileges that Muslims resented was not an effort to blame the victims.  It was, instead, an effort to understand the perpetrators, which is often a challenging project!  This reflects no sympathy for oppressors, but simply the need to make people in the past comprehensible to the present.

I returned to the Ottomans and the role of minorities.  Minorities became pivotal in Ottoman history not only as subjects who needed special law courts and holidays off.  European powers used the (often imagined) oppression of minorities to achieve their own imperial objectives–even in cases where local Christians neither needed nor wanted “protection.”  The Crimean War, like all others, was multi-causal, but it was the Russian Empire’s demand to “protect”  all Ottoman Orthodox Christians–and their refusal to acknowledge similar French claims to protect Catholics– that sparked the conflagration.  I ended with an unintentional reenactment from 2011.

Their questions suggest that they are thinking hard about the connections of the Ottoman past with more recent events.

Frenchmen and Egyptians

Technical  issues kept me from opening with Steve Martin’s “King Tut” clip from Saturday Night Live.  In addition to just their amusement, I wanted them to recognize the continuing interest in ancient Egypt that began with Napoleon’s scientists.  Actually, it had begun before their arrival, so that French soldiers had a clear idea of what “Egypt” would be like.  What they found, they believed, showed more than ever that local people needed “liberation” from the Mamluks who had caused the country to fall into such ill repair.  (Juan Cole’s blog has wonderful primary sources).

I began instead with the question of knowledge and power, describing the role played by French scholars in formulating and translating Napoleon’s speech into Arabic for distribution among local elites.  What were the goals of the scientists accompanying Napoleon?  What is the role of scholars in the foreign policies of their countries?  When one of the students asked me directly about my own view, I found myself wishing I could quote the medieval Muslim scholars  who generally agreed that scholars and rulers should not be spending their time together.

I returned to the question of what the French found when they arrived, describing the varieties in the lives of the population and the ways in which the Mamluks had influenced local life.  I focused on pilgrimage as a way to understand the intersection of faith and government, and as a vehicle for introducing some of the most basic of Muslim institutions.  Pilgrimage was, after all, hugely important as a way of legitimizing the ruler, and Napoleon’s efforts to be patron of the pilgrimage to Mecca infuriated some of the local people.

This was the logical transition to one of our course’s central issues, contacts between the region and outsiders.  Some had asked for “slides with facts,” so I offered them a set of dates.  After briefly asking what they could understand from the list of dates with battles, we set out to interpret them.  These “facts,” I emphasized, meant nothing without an interpretation that gave them meaning.

I explained, for example, that, although only 24 days had elapsed between the landing at Alexandria and taking Cairo, the French had lost huge numbers of troops.  Some died as a result of the tremendous heat and the lack of water–poor logistical planning.  But in addition, local people refused to sell or provide food and water.  They often took everything with them when they fled–to deny the invaders access.  And any troops who separated from the main body were killed.  This wasn’t a welcoming population!

And with the destruction of the French fleet days later, and French realization that they could not leave, the French began to act like Mamluks, exacting large sums and demanding mansions in order to make life tolerable in the absence of any assistance from abroad.  The French were stuck and their response made the resistance even worse.  Napoleon’s efforts to claim local loyalty were unrequited, and he absconded to France, leaving his troops behind.

What, then, were the consequences of Napoleon’s invasion?  A continually-growing European fascination with ancient Egypt, a solid base of scholarship that meant historians for generations focused on the history of Egypt (instead of elsewhere in the region), a legacy of resistance to invasion, and the coming to power of one Muhammad Ali.