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.