present condition of Algeria, she says that France "is now about to
embark upon a radical change of policy in regard to her African
colonies." If it be thought presumptuous for a foreigner who has no
local knowledge of Algerian affairs to make certain suggestions as to
the direction which those changes might profitably assume, an apology
must be found in Mrs. Roy's very true remark that England "can no more
afford to be indifferent to the relations of France with her Moslem
subjects than she can disregard the trend of our policy in Egypt and
India." It is, indeed, manifest that somewhat drastic reforms of a
liberal character will have to be undertaken in Algeria. The French
Government have adopted the only policy which is worthy of a civilised
nation. They have educated the Algerians, albeit Mrs. Roy tells us that
grants for educational purposes have been doled out "with a very sparing
hand." They must bear the consequences of the generous policy which they
have pursued. They must recognise, as Macaulay said years ago, that it
is impossible to impart knowledge without stimulating ambition. Reforms
are, therefore, imposed by the necessities of the situation.
These reforms may be classified under three heads, namely, fiscal,
judicial, and political. The order in which changes under each head
should be undertaken would appear to be a matter of vital importance. If
responsible French statesmen make a mistake in this matter--if, to use
the language of proverbial philosophy, they put the cart before the
horse--they may not improbably lay the seeds of very great trouble for
their countrymen in the future. Prince Bismarck once said: "Mistakes
committed in statesmanship are not always punished at once, but they
always do harm in the end. The logic of history is a more exact and a
more exacting accountant than is the strictest national auditing
department."
It should never be forgotten that, however much local circumstances may
differ, there are certain broad features which always exist wherever
the European--be he French, English, German, or of any other
nationality--is brought in contact with the Oriental--be he Algerian,
Indian, or Egyptian. When the former once steps outside the influence
acquired by the power of the sword, and seeks for any common ground of
understanding with the subject race, he finds that he is, by the
elementary facts of the case, debarred from using all those moral
influences which, in more homogeneous countries, bind society together.
These are a common religion, a common language, common traditions,
and--save in very rare instances--intermarriage and really intimate
social relations. What therefore remains? Practically nothing but the
bond of material interest, tempered by as much sympathy as it is
possible in the difficult circumstances of the case to bring into play.
But on this poor material--for it must be admitted that it is poor
material--experience has shown that a wise statesmanship can build a
political edifice, not indeed on such assured foundations as prevail in
more homogeneous societies, but nevertheless of a character which will
give some solid guarantees of stability, and which will, in any case,
minimise the risk that the sword, which the European would fain leave in
the scabbard, shall be constantly flaunted before the eyes both of the
subject and the governing races, the latter of whom, on grounds alike
of policy and humanity, deprecate its use save in cases of extreme
necessity.
In the long course of our history many mistakes have been made in
dealing with subject races, and the line of conduct pursued at various
times has often been very erratic. Nevertheless, it would be true to say
that, broadly speaking, British policy has been persistently directed
towards an endeavour to strengthen political bonds through the medium of
attention to material interests. The recent history of Egypt is a case
in point.
No one who was well acquainted with the facts could at any time have
thought that it would be possible to create in the minds of the
Egyptians a feeling of devotion towards England which might in some
degree take the place of patriotism. Neither, in spite of the relatively
higher degree of social elasticity possessed by the French, is it at all
probable that any such feeling towards France will be created in
Algeria. But it was thought that by careful attention to the material
interests of the people it might eventually be possible to bring into
existence a conservative class who, albeit animated by no great love for
their foreign rulers, would be sufficiently contented to prevent their
becoming easily the prey either of the Nationalist demagogue, who was
sure sooner or later to spring into existence, or that of some barbarous
religious fanatic, such as the Mahdi, or, finally, that of some wily
politician, such as the Sultan Abdul Hamid who would, for his own
purposes, fan the flame of religious and racial hatred. For many years
after the British occupation of Egypt began, the efforts of the British
administrators in that country were unceasingly directed towards the
attainment of that object. The methods adopted, which it should be
observed were in the main carried out before any large sums were spent
on education, were the relief of taxation, the abolition of fiscal
inequality and of the _corvée_, the improvement of irrigation, and last,
but not least, a variety of measures having for their object the
maintenance of a peasant proprietary class. The results which have been
attained fully justify the adoption of this policy, which has probably
never been fully understood on the Continent of Europe, even if--which
is very doubtful--it has been understood in England. What, in fact, has
happened in Egypt? Nationalists have enjoyed an excess of licence in a
free press. The Sultan has preached pan-Islamism. The usual Oriental
intrigue has been rife. British politicians and a section of the British
press, being very imperfectly informed as to the situation, have
occasionally dealt with Egyptian affairs in a manner which, to say the
least, was indiscreet. But all has been of no avail. In spite of some
outward appearances to the contrary, the whole Nationalist movement in
Egypt has been a mere splutter on the surface. It never extended deep
down in the social ranks. More than this. When a very well-intentioned
but rather rash attempt was made to advance too rapidly in a liberal
direction, the inevitable reaction, which was to have been foreseen,
took place. Not merely Europeans but also Egyptians cried out loudly for
a halt, and, with the appointment of Lord Kitchener, they got what they
wanted. The case would have been very different if the Nationalist, the
religious fanatic, or the scheming politician, in dealing with some
controversial point or incident of ephemeral interest, had been able to
appeal to a mass of deep-seated discontent due to general causes and to
the existence of substantial grievances. In that case the Nationalist
movement would have been less artificial. It would have extended not
merely to the surface but to the core of society. It would have
possessed a real rather than, as has been shown to be the case, a
spurious vitality. The recent history of Egypt, therefore, is merely an
illustration of the general lesson taught by universal history. That
lesson is that the best, and indeed the only, way to combat
successfully the proceedings of the demagogue or the agitator is to
limit his field of action by the removal of any real grievances which,
if still existent, he would be able to use as a lever to awaken the
blind wrath of Demos.
How far can principles somewhat analogous to these be applied in
Algeria?
In the first place, it is abundantly clear that, from many points of
view, the French Government have successfully carried out the policy of
ministering to the material wants of the native population. Public works
of great utility have been constructed. Means of locomotion have been
improved. Modern agricultural methods have been introduced. Famine has
been rendered impossible. Mutual benefit societies have been
established. The creation of economic habits has been encouraged. In all
these matters the French have certainly nothing to learn from us.
Possibly, indeed, we may have something to learn from them.
Nevertheless, when it is asked whether the French Government is likely
to reap the political fruits which it might have been hoped would be the
result of their efforts, whether they are in a fair way towards creating
a conservative spirit which would be adverse to any radical change, and
whether, in reliance on that spirit, they are in a position to move
boldly forward in the direction of that liberal reform, the demand for
which has naturally sprung into existence from their educational policy,
it is at once clear that they are heavily weighted by the policy
originated some seventy years ago by Marshal Bugeaud, under which the
interests of the native population were made subservient to those of the
colonists, numbering about three-quarters of a million, of whom, Mrs.
Roy tells us, less than one-half are of French origin. It may have been
wise and necessary to initiate that policy. It may be wise and necessary
to continue it with certain modifications. But it is obvious that the
adoption of Marshal Bugeaud's plan has necessarily led to the creation
of substantial grievances, which are important alike from the point of
view of sentiment and from that of material interests. It appears now
that there is some probability that this policy will be modified in at
least one very important respect, namely, by the removal of the fiscal
inequality which at present exists between the natives and the
colonists. The former are at present heavily taxed; the latter pay
relatively very little. It may be suggested that it would be worth the
while of the French Government to consider whether this change should
not occupy the first place in the programme of reform. The present
system is obviously indefensible on general grounds, whilst its
continuance, until its abolition results from the strong native
pressure which will certainly ensue after the adoption of any drastic
measure of political reform, would appear to be undesirable. It would
probably be wise and statesmanlike not to await this pressure, but to
let the concession be the spontaneous act of the French Government and
nation rather than give the appearance of its having been wrung
reluctantly from France by the insistence of the native population and
its representatives.
Next, there is the question of judicial reform. Mrs. Roy tells us that,
under what is called the _Code de l'Indigénat_, "a native can be
arrested and imprisoned practically without trial at the will of the
_administrateur_ for his district." It would require full local
knowledge to treat this question adequately, but it would obviously be
desirable that the French Government should go as far as possible in the
direction of providing that all judicial matters should be settled by
judicial officers who would be independent of the executive and, for the
most part, irremovable. Some local friction between the executive and
the judicial authorities is probably to be expected. That cannot be
helped. It might perhaps be mitigated by a very careful choice of the
officials in each case.
In the third place, there is the question of political reform. M.
Philippe Millet, who has published an interesting article on this
subject in the April number of _The Nineteenth Century_, is of course
quite right in saying that political reform is the "key to every other
change." Once give the natives of Algeria effective political strength,
and the reforms will be forced upon the Government. But, as has been
already stated, it would perhaps be wiser and more statesmanlike that
these changes should be conceded spontaneously by the French Government,
and that then, after a reasonable interval, the bulk of the political
reforms should follow.
A distinction, however, has to be made between the various
representative institutions which already exist. The _Conseil Supérieur_
and the _Délégations Financières_ have very extensive powers, including
that of rejecting or modifying the Budget. At present these bodies may
be said, for all practical purposes, to be merely representative of the
colonists. It would certainly appear wise eventually to allow the
natives both a larger numerical strength on the _Conseil_ and on the
_Délégations_, and also, by rearranging the franchise, to endeavour to
secure a more real representation of native interests. It must, however,
be borne in mind that the difficulties of securing any real
representation of the best interests in the country will almost
certainly be very great, if not altogether insuperable. In all
probability the loquacious, semi-educated native, who has in him the
makings of an agitator, will, under any system, naturally float to the
top, whilst the really representative man will sink to the bottom. It
would perhaps, therefore, be as well not to move in too great a hurry in
this matter, and, when any move is made, that the advance should be of a
very cautious and tentative nature.
The _Conseils Généraux_, which are provincial and municipal bodies,
stand on a very different footing. Here it may be safe to move forward
in the path of reform with greater boldness and with less delay. But
whatever is done it will probably be found that real progress in the
direction of self-government will depend more on the attitude of the
French officials who are associated with the Councils than on any system
which can be devised on paper. It may be assumed that the French
officials in Algeria present the usual characteristics of their class,
that is to say, that they are courageous, intelligent, zealous, and
thoroughly honest. Also it may probably be assumed that they are
somewhat inelastic, somewhat unduly wedded to bureaucratic ideas, and
more especially that they are possessed with the very natural idea that
the main end and object of their lives is to secure the efficiency of
the administration. Now if self-government is to be a success, they will
have to modify to some extent their ideas as to the supreme necessity of
efficiency. That is to say, they will have to recognise that it is
politically wiser to put up with an imperfect reform carried with native
consent, rather than to insist on some more perfect measure executed in
the teeth of strong--albeit often unreasonable--native opposition.
English experience has shown that this is a very hard lesson for
officials to learn. Nevertheless, the task of inculcating general
principles of this nature is not altogether impossible. It depends
mainly on the impulse which is given from above. To entrust the
execution of a policy of reform in Algeria to a man of
ultra-bureaucratic tendencies, who is hostile to reform of any kind,
would, of course, be to court failure. On the other hand, to select an
extreme radical visionary, who will probably not recognise the
difference between East and West, would be scarcely less disastrous.
What, in fact, is required is a man of somewhat exceptional qualities.
He must be strong--that is to say, he must impress the natives with the
conviction that, albeit an advocate of liberal ideas, he is firmly
resolved to consent to nothing which is likely to be detrimental to the
true interests of France. He must also be sufficiently strong to keep
his own officials in hand and to make them conform to his policy, whilst
at the same time he must be sufficiently tactful to win their confidence
and to prevent their being banded together against him. The latter is a
point of very special importance, for in a country like Algeria no
government, however powerful, will be able to carry out a really
beneficial programme of reform if the organised strength of the
bureaucracy--backed up, as would probably be the case, by the whole of
the European unofficial community--is thrown into bitter and
irreconcilable opposition. The task, it may be repeated, is a difficult
one. Nevertheless, amongst the many men of very high ability in the
French service there must assuredly be some who would be able to
undertake it with a fair chance of success.
One further remark on this very interesting subject may be made. M.
Millet, in the article to which allusion has already been made, says,
"The Algerian natives will look more and more to France as their natural
protector against the colonists." It will, it is to be hoped, not be
thought over-presumptuous to sound a note of warning against trusting
too much to this argument. That for the present the natives should look
to France rather than to the colonists is natural enough. It is
manifestly their interest to do so. But it may be doubted whether they
will be "more and more" inspired by such sentiments as time goes on.
There is an Arabic proverb to the effect that "all Christians are of one
tribe." That is the spirit which in reality inspires the whole Moslem
world. It is illustrated by the author of that very remarkable work,
_Turkey in Europe_, in an amusing apologue. Let once some
semi-religious, semi-patriotic leader arise, who will play skilfully on
the passions of the masses, and it will be somewhat surprising if the
distinction which now exists will long survive. All Frenchmen, those in
France equally with those in Algeria, will then, it may confidently be
expected, be speedily confounded in one general anathema.
[Footnote 80: _Aspects of Algeria_. By Mrs. Devereux Roy. London: Dent
and Son. 10s. 6d.]
XIV
THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE[81]
_"The Spectator," June 14, 1913_
Although proverbial philosophy warns us never to prophesy unless we
know, experience has shown that political prophets have often made
singularly correct forecasts of the future. Lord Chesterfield, and at a
much earlier period Marshal Vauban, foretold the French Revolution,
whilst the impending ruin of the Ottoman Empire has formed the theme of
numerous prophecies made by close observers of contemporaneous events
from the days of Horace Walpole downwards. "It is of no use," Napoleon
wrote to the Directory, "to try to maintain the Turkish Empire; we shall
witness its fall in our time." During the War of Greek Independence the
Duke of Wellington believed that the end of Turkey was at hand. Where
the prophets have for the most part failed is not so much in making a
mistaken estimate of the effects likely to be produced by the causes
which they saw were acting on the body politic, as in not allowing
sufficient time for the operation of those causes. Political evolution
in its early stages is generally very slow. It is only after long
internal travail that it moves with vertiginous rapidity. De Tocqueville
cast a remarkably accurate horoscope of the course which would be run by
the Second Empire, but it took some seventeen years to bring about
results which he thought would be accomplished in a much shorter period.
It has been reserved for the present generation to witness the
fulfilment of prophecy in the case of European Turkey. The blindness
displayed by Turkish statesmen to the lessons taught by history, their
complete sterility in the domain of political thought, and their
inability to adapt themselves and the institutions of their country to
the growing requirements of the age, might almost lead an historical
student to suppose that they were bent on committing political suicide.
The combined diplomatists of Europe, Lord Salisbury sorrowfully remarked
in 1877, "all tried to save Turkey," but she scorned salvation and
persisted in a course of action which could lead to but one result. That
result has now been attained. The dismemberment of European Turkey,
begun so long ago as the Peace of Karlovitz in 1699, is now almost
complete. "Modern history," Lord Acton said, "begins under the stress of
the Ottoman conquest." Whatever troubles the future may have in store,
Europe has at last thrown off the Ottoman incubus. A new chapter in
modern history has thus been opened. Henceforth, if Ottoman power is to
survive at all, it must be in Asia, albeit the conflicting jealousies of
the European Powers allow for the time being the maintenance of an
Asiatic outpost on European soil.
It is as yet too early to expect any complete or philosophic account of
this stupendous occurrence, which the future historian will rank with
the unification first of Italy and later of Germany, as one of the most
epoch-making events of the later nineteenth and early twentieth
centuries. Notably, there are two subjects which require much further
elucidation before the final verdict of contemporaries or posterity can
be passed upon them. In the first place, the causes which have led to
the military humiliation of a race which, whatever may be its defects,
has been noted in history for its martial virility, require to be
differentiated. Was the collapse of the Turkish army due merely to
incapacity and mismanagement on the part of the commanders, aided by
the corruption which has eaten like a canker into the whole Ottoman
system of government and administration? Or must the causes be sought
deeper, and, if so, was it the palsy of an unbridled and malevolent
despotism which in itself produced the result, or did the sudden
downfall of the despot, by the removal of a time-honoured, if unworthy,
symbol of government, abstract the corner-stone from the tottering
political edifice, and thus, by disarranging the whole administrative
gear of the Empire at a critical moment, render the catastrophe
inevitable? Further information is required before a matured opinion on
this point, which possesses more than a mere academic importance, can be
formed.
There is yet another subject which, if only from a biographical point of
view, is of great interest. Two untoward circumstances have caused
Turkish domination in Europe to survive, and to resist the pressure of
the civilisation by which it was surrounded, but which seemed at one
time doomed to thunder ineffectually at its gates. One was excessive
jealousy--in Solomon's words, "as cruel as the grave"--amongst European
States, which would not permit of any political advantage being gained
by a rival nation. The other, and, as subsequent events proved, more
potent consideration, was the fratricidal jealousy which the
populations of the Balkan Peninsula mutually entertained towards each
other. The maintenance and encouragement of mutual suspicions was, in
either case, sedulously fostered by Turkish Sultans, the last of whom,
more especially, acted throughout his inglorious career in the firm
belief that mere mediaeval diplomatic trickery could be made to take the
place of statesmanship. He must have chuckled when he joyously put his
hand to the firman creating a Bulgarian Exarch, who was forthwith
excommunicated by the Greek Patriarch, with the result, as Mr. Miller
tells us, that "peasants killed each other in the name of contending
ecclesiastical establishments."
In the early days of the last century the poet Rhigas, who was to Greece
what Arndt was to Germany and Rouget de Lisle to Revolutionary France,
appealed to all Balkan Christians to rise on behalf of the liberties of
Greece. But the hour had not yet come for any such unity to be cemented.
At that time, and for many years afterwards, Europe was scarcely
conscious of the fact that there existed "a long-forgotten, silent
nationality" which, after a lapse of nearly five centuries, would again
spring into existence and bear a leading part in the liberation of the
Balkan populations. But the rise of Bulgaria, far from bringing unity in
its wake, appeared at first only to exacerbate not merely the mercurial
Greek, proud of the intellectual and political primacy which he had
heretofore enjoyed, but also the brother Slav, with whom differences
arose which necessitated an appeal to the arbitrament of arms.