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!”
[Illustration:
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 _in_equality 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
_dis_trust, 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.”
* * * * *
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