Its composition is, indeed, unique, representing all sorts and conditions of men, as varied in age, social position, and dress as they are in ideas.
As I looked down from the gallery on this strange, eager group, my eye was caught by the picturesque figure of that “ancient of days,” the Deputy for Dersim. Diab is a Kurd, ninety years old, who speaks Turkish with difficulty. A tall, erect old man, with a long white beard and large piercing blue eyes that need no aid from glasses; he wears the tribal head-dress and robes, carrying an amber chaplet. Though the only deputy who can neither read nor write, he is a great personage in his own country, the chief of an important tribe. As, however, he has only twice spoken in the Assembly, we may suppose that the mountain population are generally able to settle their own grievances outside Angora. He tells me that, like most of his constituents, he lives almost entirely upon goats’ milk and bread, and that, as many of them have reached their hundred and twentieth year, he himself is reckoned a young man!
Curiously enough, however, it is the Dancing Dervishes who have sent up one of the most progressive spirits to the Assembly. The “Grand Tchelebi,” too, is a picturesque figure in his long brown cylinder felt hat and ecclesiastical robes. Descended from an even older family than Osman’s, he yet voted with the Hodjas for the dethronement of the ex-Khalif.
The hostility of many deputies towards the Hodjas is rather puzzling; but the journalist who said, “These men cannot think as we think,” may be right. He added: “Every big nation except the English has recognised the wisdom of separating Church and State. Yet when we advocate the same policy we are severely censured.” It is also stated that the Hodjas themselves cannot keep pace with the most progressive among the leaders, and are, therefore, quite willing to stand outside the Councils of the State. The Assembly no doubt would not suffer any religious element to hamper progress or interfere with its newly acquired freedom and independence.
The predominance of military uniforms will strike any Western observer; but one should remember the country is still at war. A few still wear the fez; but the very great majority have adopted the more picturesque kalpak, that varies in colour from grey and brown to black, and must be comfortable and warm in winter.
There are, naturally, many of the special difficulties in this Assembly that are inseparable from all beginnings of progress, in a country with no experience of self-government. The more illiterate deputies, for example, know nothing of Europe, and regard everything Western with bitter hostility and distrust. On the other hand, I met one day a brilliant Socialist munition-worker who, having studied Karl Marx and Arthur Henderson, wants to establish a precise replica of English trade unionism in Turkey—which God forbid!
There are some simple farm labourers, shopkeepers, lawyers, doctors who have studied in Paris, newspaper editors, University professors, and Valis.
The most enlightened speak practically every language in Europe, and are thoroughly well acquainted with public life on the Continent. They stand for the Freedom of Women, and did their best to make Halidé Hanoum a member of the Assembly. They would be perfectly at home in our most exclusive drawing-rooms; yet they work well, in the Cabinet itself, with men absolutely ignorant of any country except their own. “Social, or class, differences,” I am told, “have no place in any Parliament. They are created by Society women outside!”
During the Conference at Lausanne, the papers published a scandalous statement that “a deputy could purchase a seat in the Assembly for ten gold Turkish pounds!” As a matter of fact, all Turkish elections are very carefully controlled by inspectors and the municipal authorities. No one who knows anything of M. Kemal and his colleagues would dream of imagining that this form of bribery or purchase could be allowed.