CHAPTER XXXIII
LAUSANNE PALACE HOTEL—THE HOME OF TURKEY, FRANCE, AND JAPAN—“EVERY POSSIBLE PHASE OF COMPLETE INTERNATIONALISM”
“Please reserve comfortable room for Englishwoman coming from Angora,” so ran the telegram despatched by an American friend of mine, who had gallantly determined that I should be well looked after. It was both comfortable and warm; and, to complete the welcome, my waking eyes next morning are caught by the two flags I have learnt to love so well, the Turkish and the French—the “standards” of two brave peoples, with the fine spirit that nothing can subdue, who would choose rather to be annihilated than to live in servitude.
Then I notice the flag of Japan! “What has Japan to do with it?” I ask Ismet Pasha.
“Ah, Miss d’Angora,” he answers with a laugh, “it is fine sport to watch the poor little bird as they pluck out his feathers and clip his wings.”
Indeed, Lausanne has been “revolutionised” by this Conference of Peace! It is a golden harvest for the hotels, which have not a room unoccupied. Every day luncheons, dinners, and banquets! Everywhere representatives of the world’s Press! I feel strange, somehow, in a “neutral” country. Ever since 1914 I have been living, or travelling, over “seats of war,” in lands fighting to defend, or attack, an Ideal.
One can respect any sort of an “opinion” from some point of view; but “neutrality” and “anonymity” do not sound to me like attributes in which a free and independent people should feel much pride. Yet the “neutrality” of Switzerland means the International Red Cross and the League of Nations; and it has surely earned by its hospitality to the world’s statesmen, a right to play its part in the historical peace, for which “the God who Forgives” is waiting.
The Orient express is bringing the peoples together; Lord Curzon from London, Ismet Pasha from Angora. May their political discussion travel under one company to our home of peace! This Hotel of the Strange Tongues is fast become a very Tower of Babel, for it reveals every possible phase of complete internationalism, from fox-trots and cocktails to the folk-songs of Anatolia, sung by the Pasha’s Guards when off duty. Here, too, are thronging a host of new nationalities—Georgians, Bolsheviks, Syrians, Sons of Palestine, and Armenians; each fired by their own ideals, each proud of their independence; all sighing for the (political) moon.
For the moment, of course, the Conference has resolved itself into a duel between Lord Curzon and Ismet Pasha. Mme. B., indeed, is indignant because, she says, “our English representative has so bullied the French delegate that he has been obliged to take to his bed,” though one can hardly believe that proud and mighty Republic would choose a man whom anyone could really bully to bed!
I tried to imagine the Conferences of the future! “We should appoint a bear for our delegate,” I said, “send him round to all the other delegations in turn, to grunt! When his confrères had all taken to their beds, he could dictate his own term.... After the senile sensitiveness of M. Barrère, the youthful ‘insolence’ of Riza Nour is most refreshing.”
This is the first occasion of big diplomacy in which Turkey has ever dared to assert herself. “A free and independent Turkey” is so unheard of; one sadly fears it may even now be dismissed as “mere bluff.” Do they realise, or will they ever believe, that a vast, well-trained army (who may be called fanatics) are ready and thoroughly prepared (by military experts) to come out at a word from their great leader, and once more save their Fatherland? It is sad to feel that the “Hymn of Independence” I heard on all sides at Angora, should sound as much “out of harmony” with the tone of the Conference, as “Anatolian” folk-songs with a Jazz Band!
America has sent “representatives,” whose chief is called An Observer and rejoices in the name of Child—“The Child Observer” or, as it is whispered, “The Boy Scout.” To point the humour of the situation, I naturally expected to meet a hoary-headed old gentleman with a long white beard, like his predecessor at Rome, Ambassador Robert Underwood Johnson. But though I was not aware of it at the time, he is the very young man I reduced to silence, by inquiring the way in what he called voluble French, who simply led me to the place without comment, rang the bell, and went away!
At the Conference one still sees the Powers in turn calling Turkey “to order,” when their own arrogance has reduced her delegate to a condition of what the Press calls his “more than usual insolence.” Then the “Boy Scout” or “Child Observer” would “try a little kindness,” to Ismet Pasha. “Don’t you see the whole world is against you,” to which came the dignified rejoinder, “We have become accustomed to that.”
As it was in Angora, everyone here talks politics all day. But I am told that, while they only enjoyed themselves at Genoa, they do work at Lausanne. I quite believe in this “work”; certainly the Turkish delegates are hard at it till two or three every morning. But they do not forget enjoyment altogether. The younger members from the commissions have treated themselves to a thê dansant. “It warms your feet,” said Hussein Djahid, who takes his dancing very seriously. “Surely Turks don’t suffer from cold feet,” I exclaimed, “and I don’t believe you really like it, you only dance to show us that you can dance.”
The Press is luxuriously installed in a miniature palace of its own, at the Palace Hotel; a bar, of course, a gramophone, a perfect dancing-floor, roulette, and, incidentally, “plenty of room to write.” Mr. Ward Price politely regrets that “etiquette” will not permit him to ask me for an interview. Why should newspaper etiquette be allowed to hamper his “duty” as a good sportsman?
To the one journalist who really counts at Lausanne (though his articles were not always printed), I ventured to bring grave charges against the Press. “How is it men of talent and education have allowed themselves to sink to the level of mere machines, that any ‘big’ proprietor can use to manipulate public opinion? The ‘Power of the Press’ is a fraud. You never give us the benefit of your knowledge and judgment; whether we take a ‘pennyworth of news,’ or let ‘bang go saxpence.’ ‘Alas,’ said Shakespeare, ‘to choose love by another’s eyes!’ Is it not a hundred times worse ‘to write by another’s ears?’”
You write only what Mr. MacClure deigns to approve; and, though doubtless honest and unbiassed, he is not himself really “free.” He feeds you daily, like the animals in Regent’s Park, and, after a good night, you may digest the food. It would be far more honest to issue an “official” Report, without the “false” impression of personal judgments formed on the spot, which a “special correspondent” is meant to produce. The public is taught to laugh at Ismet’s pleasantries, via Mr. MacClure! Now I have heard the Pasha rehearsing, and Lord Curzon preparing his “part”; but I still want to witness the duel upon the public platform, for myself.
Could one ever forget the most dramatic moments of the Second Conference at the Hague! Can such incidents be reported unless one has actually seen them! I remember Mr. Choate was down one afternoon to speak on Disarmament. As he rose, Baron Marshall von Bieberstein deliberately closed his ears, and opened a sheet of paper and began to write. Drawing himself up to his commanding height, with a stern air of dignity, Mr. Joseph Choate began—“I have prepared my speech with great care for the express benefit of Baron Marshall. If the noble gentleman is too busy to “listen” this afternoon, he would, perhaps, be good enough to make another appointment!” Surely the fine picture of this grand American calling the “noble” Baron to order upon a question of good breeding is one which each correspondent must see, hear, and describe for himself.
It is, no doubt, largely due to the great difficulty of obtaining first hand news, that most people are anti-Turk. We were told, for example, that Riza Nour was “insolent”; whereas he had patiently listened for hours to nonsense about the “National Armenian Home,” before he left the Conference room in despair of being permitted to tell the truth.
And, partly no doubt because they may not comment upon anything of real importance, the papers are always ready to enlarge upon some trivial detail that is calculated to fan the flames of hate, or point the finger of scorn, towards any Turk. Someone asserted that the Turkish military expert had made a little mistake in preparing a map. He himself did not admit that he was wrong; but in any case, no one pretended that the matter was in the least important; and it could, ultimately, be rectified without the slightest effect on policy. Remember, too, that the poor man was working from surveys prepared on different systems, and in a language that describes everything for us backwards. It would not be remarkable if some slight error were made in transposing the details to European measures and methods. Yet the papers all give columns exposing the “little mistake,” which, most probably, was never made. Vital questions, meanwhile, were almost entirely ignored in the Press; and the “insolent” Asiatics are filled with bitter resentment. It is idle for Mr. MacClure to say that “they must expect criticism.” What they complain of is not “criticism,” but the entire “ignoring” of their point of view—a very different thing.
The journalist whom I thus attacked admitted that they deserved all I said. “The public,” he added, “has been misled, one might say ‘cheated.’ I could myself have supplied a good deal of first-class information, sufficiently dramatic and interesting to ‘raise circulations’; had I refused my signature to the ‘official’ news so sparingly doled out for me to put into shape. I can promise you that, on me at least, your words have not been wasted.”
Let us hope he may substantiate his pledge. At present the Press is neither a critic, a check on intrigue, nor an inspiration. It echoes the Governments, good or bad. In Constantinople, for instance, the American and English “special correspondents” frankly confessed that they employ a few “scouts” to collect copy, and merely “hash up” what comes in from these “scavengers” of rumour and gossip.
Propaganda in the Turkish Press is under the direction of Kemal Bey (the poet) and Ruchène Echref. Men of such literary distinction, alas, are no better fitted for such work than a watchmaker would be to heave coal. In Turkey they do not understand how heavy are the hands that can mange propaganda: that posts are created for the men who can fill them, and men are not made for any post that may happen to be vacant.
It was always a pleasure, and a surprise, to meet Lord Curzon socially at Lausanne; and if only his traditional respect for British prestige would have allowed him to be “himself” with Ismet Pasha and the Turkish delegates, to approach discussions with all the charm and wit that he knows so well how to exert, I am convinced that the practical gain to both countries would be enormous.
For though in debate his “official” manner is bound to emphasise the impression of a determined man, so clearly knowing his own mind that argument or even discussion is waste of time; I found him sincerely interested in all the personal details of my trip; and his penetrating questions were proof enough that he is quite ready to hear all sides, and really anxious to understand the country, the people, and their point of view, from anyone who knows them, irrespective of what “heresies” they may uphold. To me personally, he was not only courteous, but respectfully attentive; the only Englishman whose compliments and praise meant a real gratitude, a serious acknowledgment of my fifteen years’ study and adventure, as “worthy service to my country.”
Ismet Pasha asked me if I had succeeded in making Lord Curzon understand the grave importance of their movement.
“I may have helped a little,” I answered, “I believe I have. But he has always understood nearly the whole truth. What I fear you and your friends must find it almost impossible to understand is the “public opinion” in the West, which he cannot ignore.
“Does he know how foolish it is to talk of a “home” for Armenia?”
“He knows it would be as useless as to tie ‘a swarm of bees under a donkey’s nose.’ But, though—as you justly say—it is not their business, England cannot ignore America and the Powers. It would not bring you peace, or justice, to affront them. I do not wonder that you and Riza Nour grow impatient with the wasteful methods of traditional diplomacy; but that is our way of democracy, to conciliate public opinion by a pose of far greater obstinacy and intolerance than we feel, or intend to act on.”
We in England, however, should realise that, however wise and sincere Lord Curzon’s own sympathy may be, the general attitude—in England and the Continent—is still based on our interpretation of the “old” Turkey. Our experts, for example, in Constantinople, still approach the Nationalists as they were accustomed to order about Abdul Hamid’s Turks. They are, naturally and inevitably, “touchy” in Angora, but we shall not help matters by any offensive allusions to the “Moslem with his tail up, no thank you!”
LAUSANNE PALACE HOTEL.
The Home of Turkey, France, and Japan.
p. 304
It would be not only wiser and fairer, but more dignified, to congratulate these people on the achievements of the Grand National Assembly, which the “Mother of Parliaments” should surely welcome with honour and respect.
I found Ismet Pasha often depressed by the immensity of his task; harassed, too, lest his own people should not feel that he had done enough. “They have sent me, a soldier, to fight a Bismarck, one of your greatest statesmen,” he said one day.
I repeated what Lord Curzon had told me, with obvious sincerity, “You know, I like the little man.”
“And I respect him,” was the prompt reply, as his bright eyes lit up with renewed hope and courage.
Another day he was again in despair. “Well, it will just have to be war.”
But I would not hear the word. To all the Turks, Riza Nour, Tewfik, Hikmet, I say the same. “We are both in the wood. We must walk round and round, until we have found a way out.”
It may sound paradoxical, but, while there is absolutely no offence to British prestige in the National Pact that is worth shedding one drop of human blood to remove, it yet stands for such vital ideals, means so much, and has been achieved with such grand courage and self-sacrifice, that the Nationalists must uphold and defend it to the bitter end. That is the “problem” of Lausanne.
There is, however, no reason why, if foreigners are afraid to trust themselves, and the capital, in a Turkey governed by Turks (without “protection,” which means “interference”) they should not leave the people to find their own way towards commercial and political stability.
Lord Curzon, naturally, told me nothing; but his questions enabled me to guess at what he wished and intended to achieve. Perhaps I have guessed wrongly.
Is he not anxious to keep Mosul, from fear of Russia. We could buy the oil, and the Turks would gladly sell it. Also a promise to Arabs has been broken before now; and if our bungling has led Turkey into a temporary alliance with Russia, no one knows what will come of the German-Jew Soviets. Maybe, we have far more need to protect India from them, than to stand on our dignity with “new” Turkey.
The British Empire was founded, and can only survive, on Trust. It is a poor policy that dare not act for fear of backing “the wrong horse.” It is a criminal policy, when hesitation means war and the loss of millions of lives.
Lord Curzon’s association with the Coalition has sadly shaken his high repute for “good faith”; and unless he can see his way to come forward frankly for a “free and independent” Turkey, the Nationalists will fight in their own defence.
There seem to me too many “Commissions” at Lausanne. Closer contact between Lord Curzon himself and those able men, Djavid and Hamid Bey, as well as Ismet Pasha, would surely not only go far to restore their confidence in his good faith, but enormously “speed up” decisions on the essential problems that need to be promptly settled.
As I listened to the public speeches of Lord Curzon I was haunted by all the fateful memories of the ruin I had seen in Angora. The doubt would come; does he really realise the supreme necessity to wipe out for ever that awful page of history, to establish peace, and to help, with all the tactful sympathy at his command, the new nation to stand on its own feet. Maybe we should even be comforted by hope, if our Government would only take us more fully into its confidence. The people of England are, after all, deeply concerned. They have faith, they would gladly be loyal; but why are they kept in the dark? When I am speaking with the Turkish delegates, I sometimes fancy I catch a look on their faces of “deep anguish” as we name Lord Curzon, and my heart sinks. How am I to convince them, certain as I am he is right, that he is not drifting towards the false “sentiment” that has been broadcasted to uphold the Greeks?
On the anniversary of the In-Eunus, I dined with Ismet Pasha. When he refused dates I told him that, “so long as he kept the ‘dates’ of his victories, he needed no others.” “I left Constantinople with nothing,” he answered. “I returned the head of the Army.” Turkey gives every man his chance.
So far as possible, I am dividing my time between British and Turks; and no one can say that either gives more time or “hard labour” to their responsibilities, than the other. It is not possible, certainly, for any visitor to interrupt Lord Curzon, he seems to be working all the time.
There is one figure we all watch carefully at the Conference. I once compared the face of M. Venizelos to an Apostle! Now he hovers round the British Delegation like a bird of ill-omen, for some inexplicable reason still mesmerising our diplomatists, carrying trouble wherever he goes. Djavid Bey laughs to remind me of how proud I had once been to pour out tea for them both!
One naturally feels great interest in Melle Stanciof, as the first woman diplomatist, and her personality repays study. Tall and thin, with the large eyes of the Oriental, she is very able, speaks English without an accent, and loves her work. I repeated to her the dogma that to be twenty-one is an essential qualification for a diplomat; but she is twenty-seven, and only laughed at the idea.
Sir Wm. Tyrell, Permanent Head of the British Foreign Office, with all his Irish charm and wit, is as clever as Machievelli. He delights in calling himself “Chief of the Underlings”; but men like Mr. Forbes Adam and Mr. Harold Nicholson were experienced diplomats when their Turkish colleagues were in their cradles; which, as Ismet Pasha sometimes complains, “gives them no chance for a fair fight.” But when I dined with them as his guests, there was no fighting; and our host, I felt, was very well qualified to promote friendly relations, by the cultured ease of his hospitality.
To my thinking, British “underlings” are very able men, and not pro-Russian as the Turks are disposed to fear. They were all anxious for peace, and quite sincerely eager to understand the nationalist point of view.
During the conference both M. Poincaré and M. Mussolini visited Lausanne and dined with Lord Curzon.
I have had many talks about the Patriarch, whom Mustapha Kemal declares must be removed: “He must be got rid of, with the other relics of Byzantium!” The problem is especially hard on Turkey, because it arose from what ought to have been considered the great strength of the nation, though—in this case—it has been exaggerated into weakness, her immense tolerance for other people’s religion.
When the Byzantians conquered the Turkish tribes who had emigrated into Asia Minor, they compelled the tribesmen to be converted, and join the Orthodox Church. The Bible, and all their prayers, were translated into Turkish; whence, without design, the Turkish Orthodox Church came into being. When, later, under the Seldjoucides and Osmanli, Anatolia passed into Moslem hands, no attempt was made to interfere with the Orthodox religion of the people.
It was only when the Ottomans ruled in Constantinople and the Sultans used their growing power to support the Greek Patriarch, that the Anatolians began to see they were being manœuvred into the power of the Helenes. During the war, the Patriarch’s intrigues became more daring and more obvious; until Papas Eftim Effendi proposed in the Assembly that Fanar should be separated from the Orthodox Church, and that the Orthodox Church of Anatolia should rule in Thrace and Constantinople.
Yet when Ismet Pasha spoke of the religious “tolerance” of Turkey, Lord Curzon replied: “How can you claim to be tolerant. All your past record will be destroyed if you dismiss the Patriarch.” And rather than risk such a charge against the Nationalists, he gave way.
It seems to me, I confess, that this concession is a grave risk. The interference, thus permitted, may prove to be more disastrous than that of a few foreign judges against which they so resolutely protest. As Mr. Nicholson said he hoped that I had told Lord Curzon how much the Turks were giving up.... “I think,” he said, “their tolerance is very fine.”
Ismet Pasha often worked all night with his hench-men, Colonel Tewfik and Hikmet Kiamil, a grandson of Kiamil Pasha, who has inherited his grandfather’s political talents. They felt that the slightest failure to meet the immense demands made on the delegation would stamp them as an inferior race, and they determined it should not be.
It was actually after one of their most arduous sittings, up to three o’clock in the morning, that I obtained from Ismet Pasha the comprehensive exposition of his point of view, that I have put together in the following pages.
Ismet Pasha, like Mr. Edison, is deaf; and possibly feels with that great inventor that, “though it is uncomfortable when people insist on making a spitoon of your ear, for the rest it is all advantage.” For example, at dinner one can “get on with one’s thinking,” instead of listening to the conversation. Ismet Pasha only “hears what he wants to hear,” often a great advantage in diplomacy.
As to being content with the “working of the Conference,” he said, “we are doing all in our power to make peace, but it is difficult for one nation against all the other powers. Willingly or unwillingly, they cannot see what our National Pact means to us; and that, as a proud people, we cannot accept terms of peace which they would not think of offering the Greeks and Bulgars. It is said that the Great Powers must conciliate public opinion which hates and distrusts us as ‘barbarians,’ but we feel certain that the Powers could deal with ‘public opinion’ if they so desired, and convince the whole world that we are now working by civilised methods to become a free and independent nation. Instead of facing the vital question of a ‘right to exist’ as a State, we feel that much time has been wasted over details that do not need any discussion. It is known, for example, that we are offering, what we have always offered, equal rights to Moslems and Christians; yet we are asked to establish inequality by exempting Christians from military service.
“If ever the Powers consent to accept our point of view, it is considered a great concession, and when we point out that our whole demands have been reduced by us to the lowest minimum, they laugh; imagining it is a ‘concession’ to give us back one room in our own house.
“For three years, Turkey has given proof that none can dispute of her organising capacity, her great vitality, and her deep longing to regenerate her country. We came here hoping and believing that the plenipotentiaries would bear this in mind. They do not. They beg us to ‘trust’ them; but they treat us with the same caution, the same distrust, as they have always shown towards the old ‘decayed’ Turkey, towards which, maybe, there used to be some slight justification. Such an attitude cannot produce satisfactory progress.”
“What are the chief obstacles to Peace?”
“Mosul—Finance—Judicial Capitulations—Reparations.
“We are only asking four milliard gold francs for reparations. That is a small figure for a country that has been completely devastated, and it takes no count of loss of life.
“Mosul was never captured by Great Britain, though they claim the right of conquest. Their troops were a long way from Mosul when ours were demobilised at the end of the war. They ‘captured’ it by ‘violating the terms of the Armistice’; as they did at Constantinople, and as the French did in Cilicia.
“The population of Mosul is Kurd and Turkish, with only a small Arab minority. It must, therefore, belong to Turkey on all the principles by which the Powers have determined the frontiers of Europe. This was recognised, indeed, in the Sykes-Picot agreement, which admitted that Mosul is not a part of Mesopotamia.
“It was finally handed to England by the French Foreign Office; but M. Clemenceau afterwards apologised that he had not previously ‘known of the oil there.’ The Kurds of Mosul have nothing in common with the Arabs; and naturally want to be united with their ‘brothers’ in Anatolia. Why are we the only nation to whom the principle of racial frontiers has been denied? By what kind of justice does an Arab minority, probably smaller than one quarter of the population, give England the right to annex Mosul!
“To insist upon our accepting ‘foreign judges,’ is an humiliating insult to our Government that is altogether incompatible with National Sovereignty. Such interference, and such an affront to the authority of the State would be no less injurious to the interests of foreigners in Turkey than to our own. It could not fail to provoke continual clashing of interests, confusion, and friction between Turkish and foreign administration of law, that would be fatal to commercial security for all alike. Here again the Powers are still ‘building on sand.’
“As to finance, it is a serious difficulty for us; but no question of mere money will ever separate us from England.
“I firmly believe that, when once the Powers can get rid of their old prejudices, the traditional friendship will revive. England and Turkey, surely, need each other; we need England and England needs us, if only to pacify those Moslem people whom England’s injustice to us has roused to righteous anger against her.
“A strong Anglo-Turkish alliance would mean not only peace in the Near East and for Islam; it means peace for the whole world.”
People have asked me “Why did Lausanne fail?”
I answer: “It did not fail. It would have been failure had Ismet Pasha signed, at the pistol’s point, a treaty that could not be ratified. He knew that the Assembly would never sign the terms offered by the Powers; and, as I told Lord Curzon, he had to consult his colleagues in Angora. It would hinder peace, not promote it, to sign with no security for ratification.”
As Ismet said, “We have purchased our Anatolia with the blood and money of her peasants. We can die, but we cannot betray them.”