The Speaker (in this case the Vice-President) appeared to me to be ringing his bell for order all the time; but the whole scene recalls the French Chamber of Deputies, and here, too, they all talk at once and interrupt each other without ceremony.
When I mentioned to “the Pasha” how strange it seemed to me that a Parliament should be so noisy, Fethi Bey explained by describing to his chief the dignity of our proceedings at Westminster.[[1]] He proved, once more, to be a keen observer, quick to decide and act, though a man of few words. His cold reception in London did not diminish his keen interest in our civilisation, which appeals to him immensely, and which he was always ready to praise. He told me he wanted to go back to England, this time incognito, and really master all the institutions, activities, and policies of the country, in order to explain us to his own people.
[1]. Fortunately he saw us on our best behaviour at Westminster.
I only wish that he could make time for such a mission. The interfering propaganda of Europe has made Turkish nationalism very touchy. One certainly cannot blame them for any suspicion or readiness to take offence, nor wonder at the reception they might accord to offers of help from even the best foreign specialists whom they had not themselves elected to invite or consult. The fight for freedom has been single-handed, and the price too heavy for them to endure a thought of taking the slightest risk.
I noticed one more evidence of Democracy in this Hall of Assembly. There is absolutely no formal division, either by rank or office, in the seating accommodation. The deputies sit anywhere, each at a sort of school-desk, and when the President comes in to hear a debate, he simply looks round for the first vacant seat.
There is, however, a tribune for speeches in front of the Speaker’s table, from which I enjoyed much fluent and animated oratory. The Turks speak mostly without notes and their constant gestures recall the French. Others, however, no doubt partly from my not knowing the language, produced a similar impression to that of prayers in a Jewish synagogue.
The Assembly is never closed, each member, however, being entitled to three months’ holiday. At this time about two hundred were in attendance and crowded the hall to overflowing. The total membership is three hundred and forty.
I am not allowed to forget that it was England who really created the Nationalist Assembly—May 16, 1920, is the historic date—when we took possession of the Turkish Parliament in Constantinople, and the patriots (a hundred and fifty of the most enlightened Turks) were imprisoned at Malta. Then it was that Nationalism demanded, and set up, its own Assembly.
Men from Malta and the other deputies who escaped from Constantinople form two-thirds of the present Parliament; the remaining third have been elected in the country itself.