THE GHAZI MUSTAPHA KEMAL PASHA—THE GREATEST MAN IN TURKEY TO-DAY
NOW that I know Angora, I must know also its Nationalist hero.
Fethi Bey has invited me this afternoon to meet the President at the
Assembly. The Lausanne Conference is beginning—perhaps he will give me
his impressions.
From the window of the antechamber I saw the Pasha arrive, attended only
by one aide-de-camp. There is, of course, absolutely no foundation for
the stories that he is even more strictly guarded than Lenin, among a
people who trust and love him!
It is not necessary to see M. Kemal Pasha to realise that he is the
greatest man in Turkey to-day, quite apart from his actual achievements.
He has, indeed, accomplished miracles; but it is rather the universal
attitude of the people by which one measures the man. I feel that my
host’s regard for me was definitely increased when I had had lunch with
Mustapha Kemal. The servants announce the “Pasha, Pasha”—no need for a
more precise name.
Should one hold him greater as statesman, soldier, or orator? since he
is past-master in all three aspects. Personally, I am more grateful to
him who prevents war than to the conqueror. It is as a statesman that I
met him, and I will therefore first consider his political ideals and
work.
Great events create great men, and it is but once in the life of a
nation that situations so grave as that which found Mustapha Kemal are
ever likely to arise. He rose out of the terror of the Hamidian régime,
the years that followed, and the humiliation of _occupied_ Smyrna. It
needed, however, the suffering and sorrow to which all reformers must
serve their apprenticeship to mould his character and to bring him where
he now stands. It was the long-suffering martyrdom one saw in the face
of his late mother that forced him to realise what he must do, and he
has never faltered from the goal.
Only here, beside them, can one understand all the Government has had to
do in Angora, and see for oneself how the whole flock still look to this
one man for courage and inspiration. Had _he_ lost faith in the goal or
in his capacity to reach it, all would have been lost. “Freedom for
Turkey or death for the Turks” has been his motto throughout the years.
I suppose that, however often one may proclaim it, they will not believe
who have not seen, a new Turkey is born into the world. It is, indeed,
idle to weep over the days that are dead and gone, when the Turk counted
for nothing in his own land; when the foreigner ruled the roost, and
ambassadors were princes! The new Turk has arrived; the member of a new
nation. No important demand was made at Lausanne by Turkey that any
self-respecting people could be asked to forgo.
And yet the Powers are still attempting to treat with “old” Turkey! We
have no longer to maintain our officious, if well-meant, interference on
behalf of disloyal minorities; to insist, _par exemple_, that Christians
shall be exempted from military service, as America never exempted her
negro population.
[Illustration:
THE GHAZI MUSTAPHA KEMAL PASHA.
PRESIDENT OF THE GRAND NATIONAL ASSEMBLY, ANGORA.
(Signed portrait presented to the Author).
p. 160
]
No wonder, again, M. Kemal has been more than tempted to wish (what, for
no other reason, he could desire) to abolish religion altogether, after
the imposition upon Constantinople of that arch-intriguer the Greek
Patriarch! When France and Italy recognised the “State” Church for the
parasite that may, at any moment, suck up its life-blood, they cast the
Church aside. Confronted at the very outset by a precisely similar
danger, Mustapha Kemal at once cut off the Khalifat from the Assembly
and considerably limited the power of the Hodjas, a far more difficult
operation than French disestablishment. Yet we expect him a second time
to expose himself to the intrigues of a Greek Patriarch!
He is, as a fact, far more leniently inclined towards the Greeks and
Armenians than any other Turkish statesman. He sees even their wanton
destruction of Anatolia as no more than the outburst of a misguided
people, the victims of bigger, intriguing Powers. He would rather
welcome their return to loyalty than give their place in commerce to the
Jews, from the humane conviction that they have no homes outside Turkey.
* * * * *
The home life of Mustapha Kemal, literally given to his country,
involves severe daily self-sacrifice. From month to month he allows
himself no recreation, no change of scene, no intercourse with the
world’s culture. Among these lonely mountains he cannot break the
monotony by going to a play or to a concert; he does not hunt or follow
any kind of sport; and even Nature, at least in winter, is scarcely
kind.
His life is one of continual mental and physical effort: reading,
studying, and planning, seeing everyone, for they all want to see “The
Pasha” and not the second in command. To me he seems like a professor,
who must be forever explaining to his people what their Nationalism
really means. Perhaps the nearest historical parallel to his abounding
personality is that of Julius Cæsar; and one is tempted to hope that he,
too, may find time to leave us the “Commentaries.” The world would know
how to value what the Turks need put on record, the thought of this keen
and alert mind which is able to interpret, if not supplement, the Koran
for modern conditions and aspirations. They have, as it were, many
centuries of progress to catch up; and, fortunately, he is no blind
respecter of _tyrannical_ religious or historic traditions that hamper
advance to freedom. A commentary of great value could be compiled from
his thoughtful and stirring speeches.
It may be that, as in art the highest form is simplest, we shall, after
all, see the perfect Democracy in the East. The ideals of President
Wilson have been discarded as impossible; Russia has signally failed to
carry out the teachings of Karl Marx. Mustapha Kemal Pasha, at least,
has put _his_ doctrine in practice to the acknowledged advantage of a
country in the “Slough of Despond.”
Turkish statesmen maintain to-day that any form of a Second Chamber
remains only the unfit survival of decadent Monarchies and Empires, that
the Single Chamber is the most perfect machine for Government, avoiding
friction and delay.
Time alone can prove!
* * * * *
At my first interview with “The Pasha” he was wearing a big astrakhan
kalpak, pushed well down over his forehead, and smoking cigarette after
cigarette. Though busy receiving ministers and deputies in the
Presidential Bureau, he was at the same time waiting, as it were, for
the right moment to sum up the whole situation in one final and decisive
reply that could not fail to end all discussion. This power to drive
right through a subject, to find the way out and take it, is one of the
chief sources of his unique authority.
He was ready, however, for a sociable cup of coffee, and immediately
asked for news of England. Fethi Bey reminded him of a few scenes from
life to which I had introduced him in London, including dinner at a
Ladies’ Club. Most women would admire the picturesquely weatherbeaten
tint of the Pasha’s complexion, though the piercing, almost stern,
glance of the eye should remind you that you will do well to say clearly
and quietly what you have to say—and go! Though so businesslike and
energetic, he has a beautifully modulated voice. His French is
well-chosen; in Turkish he is an orator. Here, then, are the face and
the expression of a conqueror, but the voice is the voice of a cultured
man of the world.
Next morning Mustapha Kemal sent his car (a present from the people of
Smyrna) that I might be driven to his villa at Tchan-Kaya, almost twenty
minutes’ ride from Angora. This is the best road in the district; the
others are just rows of holes and bumps on which someone has thrown some
cobbles and, incidentally, some houses! Though Tchan-Kaya was given to
him by the people, he has handed over this property to the army, and
lives there as their guest—surely an unusual, but charming, example of
brotherly love. I wonder whether the Pasha will do the same in the house
I saw, also presented to him, at Broussa, which an historian and
architect came over from Constantinople to redecorate.
From Tchan-Kaya one obtains an excellent bird’s-eye view of Angora;
whether at midday or at sunset, sprinkled with, or buried in, snow,
always picturesque. We get a few hours of sunshine every morning until
quite late in the year; enough to welcome the beautiful white minarets,
so marked a feature in every Eastern scene, whence the muezzin calls the
faithful to prayer five times a day. Dotted over the hills of Tchan-Kaya
we see the Pasha’s special guard—the Lasz—wearing a uniform our ladies
would be delighted, I think, to copy in velvet or satin. The fashion,
however, would only suit those who, like these soldiers from Trébizonde,
are tall, slight, and well-built.
At the door one gladly accepts the vociferous greeting of a fine brown
retriever. Then comes the aide-de-camp, Mahmoud Bey, always ready with a
gay smile for his chief’s guests, who leads one straight into the house.
The kiosk is large and well-built. In the combination of hall and
ante-room a white marble fountain is always playing. One of the two
pianos in Angora stands in a corner; these are both, alas, more
ornamental than useful, made, one could guess, somewhere about 55 B.C.!
A large desk, some fine plants, and the usual Turkish or Persian rugs
complete the furniture. One door leads into the Pasha’s mother’s
apartments, the other to his own sitting-room.
[Illustration:
On the wall of Mustapha Kemal Pasha’s study the Sultan Osman, first of
the House of Osman, looks down on Mustapha Kemal Pasha, who has
ended the dynasty.
]
I could scarcely believe that I was speaking to the legislator, as my
host rose to greet me from his Western red-leather sofa. Without his
kalpak, his fair hair, well brushed back, his close-cropped moustache,
his well-tailored clothes with the correct crease, would surely carry
him through a London drawing-room without a guess that he was not
English, or, at any rate, not from the North. Again, his keen sense of
humour is not common among the Turks, and it was a delight to find how
heartily he joined in the laugh which his delightful stories provoked.
I am told that the Pasha’s type and colouring are not uncommon in his
native Roumelia—as ever, the North is fair!
Noticing some “Napoleon” literature on one of the writing-tables, I
regretted that “I had not thought of bringing a book about the ‘little
Corsican,’ instead of merely offering my congratulations on a
magnificent victory.”
“Please never think of such a thing,” he replied. “He interests me as a
great general, but——”
“I understood your interest amounted almost to veneration, or so it is
said.”
“What a strange rumour! I naturally study all the great strategists; but
to compare the Sakharia with Austerlitz is surely no great compliment.”
[Illustration:
The Ante-room at Tchan-Kaya.
]
Though I confess to being considerably startled by this emphatic
declaration, it reminded me of a conversation with Monsieur Clemenceau
some years before the war.
“He told me,” I said, “that he considered Lord Rosebery’s enthusiastic
admiration of Napoleon had been almost a blot on his own political
career.... ‘Where is the greatness of that vain egoist?’ asked the
outspoken Frenchman. ‘I consider myself a hundred times greater, for
this simple reason: When Napoleon came down he fell for ever. When I, or
my country, are down, then I am at my greatest and best.’”
Though M. Kemal could smile at the Gallic boasting, while honouring the
boaster, his own criticism was more quietly expressed:
“Napoleon put ambition first. He fought for himself, _not_ for ‘the
Cause’—with the inevitable _débâcle_.”
As I listen to Mustapha Kemal, taking advantage the while of his
gracious invitation to thaw my frozen toes and hands at the wood fire, I
wonder what a “keen soldier” would not have given to be in my place,
with the chance of hearing a private lecture from one of the world’s
great generals, a man not more than forty.
“Were you ever in doubt of success?” I asked.
“No, never,” he replied. “I saw the whole scheme from the first (even
when we had no munitions), just as it finally worked out. We delayed—to
save bloodshed and devastation. Fethi Bey went to London as a last
resource, because we wanted a treaty—in ink, not in blood.”
Is not that last effort for peace, perhaps, this great man’s finest
gesture to a war-ridden generation? Knowing the glory he could win for
himself, in the certainty of strength for conquest, he yet made three
separate attempts to persuade the Powers to enforce a peaceful
retirement upon the Greeks. Preparation is not relaxed; no detail has
been forgotten; the peasant armies are ready in Anatolia, wondering why,
since peace lingers, the Great Chief does not fight!
One of his generals told me later: “You cannot judge “The Pasha” until
you have seen him commanding his army. No man could be more fearless,
more hard on himself, or kinder to his men. He simply ignores pain,
though a rib be driven into his lungs; and when he leads them, the
soldiers know all is well. ‘His star is good,’ they say, and they have
no use for generals in the East for whom the stars are known to predict
ill. His mind works rapidly to clear decisions. Above all, he never
loses his head, and his judgment is sound.”
Without this universal, unstinting affection and esteem from both
officers and men, Mustapha Kemal could never have established the
Assembly and created a new Turkey. When he had thus realised the vision
of his ardent youth, that never left him through years of exile, revolt,
and disgrace; when, at any moment now, he could declare himself
Dictator, he will not steal responsibility from the people’s
representatives. “The Assembly,” he says, “is not one man; I am only its
President.”
He dislikes hearing the word “Kemalist.” “It does not carry with it the
spirit of the movement, which will go on, whether I am dead or alive.”
If one speaks to him about his own work, he either answers: “I did my
duty,” or refers all honour to the Assembly.
I have talked with many of Europe’s great statesmen, but found none more
modest than he. Yet who among them has snatched such triumph from odds
as opposing?
* * * * *
The furniture of this little room is, of course, all “native.” The
dinner-service comes from Kutahia, the carpets and rugs are Anatolian.
On the walls hang jewelled swords and other trophies or souvenirs, sent
in homage from Moslem rulers to the conqueror they all acknowledge. He
may endeavour to efface himself, to glory in his simplicity and set up a
real democracy; but the stamp of his personality is on the whole Moslem
world; he holds in his hand the keys of Islam. Nationalism has now
acquired a deep religious significance; the Pact is a “decalogue” none
may deny.
A well-known Turkish writer has boldly compared the movement with
Christianity; humbly born, bringing suffering to all, death and
martyrdom to many—for an Ideal of the Spirit no human enemy can crush.
Who touches Turkey, with Right behind her, will set all Islam on fire to
put down Might.
[Illustration:
Mustapha Kemal Pasha’s Sitting-room.
]
In Egypt they speak of “Holy Angora,” and, wherever future assemblies
may meet, she will be always sacred. An Egyptian princess, I notice,
uses capitals when referring to the Ghazi Pasha as “He” or “Him.” If
only the delegates at Lausanne could have managed to peep behind the
scenes at Angora! If they still considered the Nationalist demands
unreasonable, they could scarcely have failed to pause before the
deep-rooted fanaticism they have inspired.
* * * * *
The Pasha is nothing if not frank. He has no time for bluff, though his
pride was stung by the idle boasting of our ex-Premier: “You’ve got to
speak to these people with guns.”
No charge could be more ridiculous or untrue than to say that Mustapha
Kemal is ever influenced by Camerad Areloff. Bolshevism and Nationalism
are poles apart. Yet the Pasha could scarcely refuse invitations to
conversation with any credited representative from a country like
Russia; though no words of his are likely to change M. Kemal’s
invariable habit of using his _own_ judgment and making up his _own_
mind.
Though he seldom speaks without a practical purpose, I was honoured by
an intimacy that nearly approached that of an old school friend. There
were changes, however, to rather puzzling reserve, almost frigid
politeness, in his case probably not caused by any reminder of my
nationality. He knows not only whom, but when, to trust, and I suppose I
had unwittingly opened some dangerous topic.
* * * * *
One almost wishes at times that he need not live so perpetually in the
heat of the fray. Driven, perhaps, by greater intelligence or stricter
integrity, to some unpopular action, he might lose his halo, or at least
dim its lustre, while the new country was still too unstable for any
weakening of his guiding hand. There are fanatical members of the
Assembly who, _bien entendu_, are far more extreme than he, whose
unchecked counsels might spell disaster. I sought, indeed, for the
opposition within of which we have heard so much, and found only a very
small group of rather small-minded men, at present with little power.
Nevertheless, foolish measures, that might prove a real menace, and were
certainly false to true freedom, have been put forward and discussed.
The schemes for excluding Albanians and Arabs from the Assembly, and for
requiring five years’ residence in one place, hit “The Pasha” himself.
Telegrams of angry protest came in from all quarters, and he soon
stopped the mischief. Others, however, may prove more difficult. The
opposition seem to me seeking in Nationalism—“_midi à 14 heures_,” as
the French say.
At present he is not only adored by those who trust him and gave up all
to follow him, but respected and admired by those recently serving the
Sultan, who had not the courage to believe that right must triumph and
truth prevail.
I believe that his personality could always dominate the Assembly at
Angora, and there is unquestionably no possible foundation for the
reported rivalry of Kiazim Kara Békir. They are the best of friends,
each conspicuously loyal to the other, and Kiazim Kara Békir is far too
proud of his leader to want his place.
I foresee, however, that even his clearest instructions may sometimes be
badly interpreted, and thus bring blame for what he has not done and
never intended. There will be difficulties again in certain foreign
relations, because the most loyal Nationalists, for whom justice and
gratitude alike demand reward, will not all be so well fitted as the
existing diplomats for the embassies of Europe.
* * * * *
Though no one could have suspected it from his manner, I learnt that my
Angora host had been seriously alarmed at the prospect of receiving an
Englishwoman into his household. His first impressions, however, were
unexpectedly in my favour. And the ladies agreed: “You are just like our
Pasha—fair hair and blue eyes. You might be his sister.” It was the
highest possible compliment, the best possible passport.
Mustapha Kemal found time to be no less hospitable, and often treated me
to a concert of Anatolian songs with the oute (or stringed guitar)
accompaniment. It was at his house I first tasted the most delicious of
Turkish confections, “_poulet à la Circassienne_,” that is chicken with
nut sauce. It was frequently offered to me after that; but, alas, like
all things Turkish, even their “light” pastry _Bereks_, it is as
fattening as it is appetising.
One afternoon “the Pasha” joined us to pay visits to the houses
surrounding his kiosk. We made a strange party: the Ghazi Pasha and his
aide-de-camp, the Englishwoman, and a big white ram! The magnificent
goats of Anatolia follow one about and welcome caresses such as we
lavish on a pet dog. The Armenians weave handsome shawls from their
silky hair. Angora is also famous for its cats and its rabbits.
[Illustration:
Mustapha Kemal Pasha Walking in the Grounds of Tchan-Kaya.
]
Naturally, the “veiled” tenants stood in too great awe of their Pasha to
say much, so we first walked on to inspect the new family of a favourite
dog, then visited another happy family of geese and chickens and the
horses! Like many Orientals, M. Kemal is over-merciful to his beasts,
who are apt to grow fat and lazy from insufficient exercise.
Mustapha Kemal always says, and means, that everyone has a right to come
and see him. He enjoys talking with peasants, and pays a generous
tribute to their sterling worth. But in Turkey, some mysterious inborn
tact prevents the uncultured from awkward attempts at intrusion upon his
superior, however brotherly the hand of friendship between them. It is,
however, almost impossible to compare the two countries, for, despite
the Moslem’s respect for authority in every shape or form, rank and
family do _not_ count with him as with us, and the feudal habits, of
which no so-called democracy can cure us, must appear strange indeed to
these simple folk.
* * * * *
I have been privileged to hear “the Pasha” explaining the new Turkey he
has created, expressing all his ideas, hopes, fears and anxieties; and
this, at what is perhaps the very summit of his career, when his nation
has just entered upon her existence of freedom and independence.
Yet I hesitate before the attempt to analyse or to describe the
character and political achievement of this man; to convey all the
subtlety and the strength of his mind. The complexities, and the
apparent contradictions, of the Oriental are always baffling to the
West; while, though far superior to vanity, the Pasha knows his own
value and takes himself, as it were, too much for granted, to encourage
or assist others in the dissection of his character. I can but rest on
the tolerance all great men extend to our judgments, if prompted by
sincerity and justice and a love of truth. As it is written in the
proverbs of old Japan: “If your judgments are tempered by the dictates
of truth, the gods will protect you, even though you offer no prayers to
them.”
* * * * *
We are naturally enthusiastic before a New Turkey, built out of nothing.
Surely these people are capable of carrying on? If some ask: “Will this
man lose his head?” we answer: “He has not done so under the strongest
temptation. Why should we fear?... He has not made himself Dictator; he
has refused wealth and honour; he has abolished ‘decorations!’”
When the work of reconstruction begins in real earnest, when the
country, so rich in minerals and with so fertile a soil, can be
developed in peace to the best advantage; then I, for one—now I know
him—believe “The Pasha” will prove to us that he can unite his people no
less wisely in the building up of their fatherland than in saving it
from tyranny and interference.
The Nationalists have had their warning from mistakes made by the
Committee of Union and Progress, against the only real danger one can
reasonably foresee, that of teaching the people to run before they have
learnt to walk.
To all who would see the vision realised of an established, strong, and
well-governed new Turkey, I only say: “Take care of your Pasha, for ‘his
value is above rubies.’”
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