A sweeping and remarkable account of Arab modernity up through 1938, when the work was first published. As it rather needs be, it is a sprawling historical epic, and it can be divided neatly into three ‘sections’. The first section deals with ‘the movement’: its ‘false start’ in the Wahhabi and other ‘back-to-basics’ Islamic reform movements in the eighteenth century; its take-off under the Arab Christian intellectuals al-Yāzijī père et fils and al-Bustānī; its long periods of stagnation punctuated by fiery and impassioned outbursts of organisation and activity. The second section deals with the Arab Rising of 1916 under the ægis of Sharīf al-Husayn ibn ‘Alī and his sons, ‘Abd Allāh and Faysal ibn al-Ḥusayn – including the promises made to the Arab monarchs by the Allies, which were later shamefully broken. And the third section deals with the aftermath of the World War as it pertained to the destinies of the eastern half of the Arab world – the Arabian Peninsula and the Fertile Crescent.
It is not a neutral work, and it does not pretend to be so: in the foreword, Antonius clarifies that the ‘object of this book is primarily to tell a story’, and that it is ‘not the final or even a detailed history’, of the Arab nationalist struggle. And in telling that story, Antonius does not place himself as a disinterested observer but as an insider and an advocate. He is well-placed to offer insights from sources not available to other English-speaking explorers of the topic, and does so with a kind of journalistic zeal. He is nonetheless a gifted writer and a careful scholar, which makes his advocacy on behalf of the ordinary Arab, particularly the ordinary Arab living in Syria or Palestine, that much more pointed and potent.
Antonius is not without critique of his own countrymen. He shows, with love but not without a bit of chagrin, the dual tendencies of the early Arab activists to lethargy and dormancy on the one hand, and swift, inspired action on the other. At the same time, the crucial catalytic rôles played by Arab-nationalist secret societies modelled on the Young Turks, like al-Fatat and al-‘Ahd, are well-documented by Antonius. It was a testament to their discipline that despite arbitrary arrests and torture employed by the Turkish secret police, their existence remained hidden from the Turks until after the World War. The closest they came to learning of al-‘Ahd was in the arrest and kangaroo trial of its founder ‘Aziz ‘Ali al-Masri, whose death sentence (later commuted) had the unintended effect of galvanising the Arab intelligentsia and members of the military against Ottoman Turkish misrule. And they also managed to win over, for example, Sharīf al-Husayn and Faysal to their cause in the run-up to the First World War, when it looked increasingly like the Ottomans would join on the side of Germany.
Even as Antonius acknowledges the failures of al-Husayn and Faysal to successfully advocate for the Arab cause to the Allies or to fight effectively for it themselves, his portrayal of them is nonetheless deeply sympathetic, rendering them as tragic victims of their own honest and trusting natures. Sharīf al-Husayn, already a convinced and die-hard Anglophile (to the end of his days protesting the English as ‘an honourable kind in word and in deed, in fortune and in adversity’) and an expert in carefully-crafted diplomatic language to boot, did his level best to placate both his Ottoman superiors and his English contact Sir Henry McMahon until the critical moment came, whereas Faysal advocated for immediate action on Britain’s behalf, and ‘Abd Allāh prescribed caution. Al-Husayn demanded, and got, assurances from McMahon that Arab independence would be guaranteed and protected in the event of an Arab rising on the Allies’ behalf. In 1916 his hand was forced by the paranoid actions of Ahmed Jamal Pasha.
He led a few thousand Arab ex-military officers and tribesmen in an insurrection in the Hijāz, capturing several key Turkish fortifications along the west coast of the Arabian Peninsula. Not only did this force the Ottomans to turn their attention inward and take the pressure off of British troops who were fighting in North Africa, but even more importantly from a strategic standpoint, the Arab Revolt effectively thwarted German communications with the colonies through Ottoman territory. In the two years to come, Ottoman resources would be drained and its manpower sapped trying to put down revolts throughout Iraq, Syria, Palestine and the Arabian Peninsula.
However, for all the debts of gratitude owed by the Allies – particularly Britain – to the leaders of the Arab Revolt and their supporters among the populace, their actions in the wake of the war fell stunningly short of fitting. The promises proffered to Sharīf al-Husayn regarding Arab independence and political sovereignty in the Fertile Crescent and in the Peninsula were roundly ignored. Instead, the Sykes-Picot Agreement, made by the European Allies completely over the heads of the Arab people, was aimed at essentially turning the Arab lands into a new colonialist frontier between Britain and France. Antonius here describes the various situations on the Peninsula, in Iraq, in Syria and in Palestine.
It is at the very end, though, that the sympathies of the author are the most directly and the most viscerally engaged. Though one can hardly accuse Antonius of being a romantic – his treatment of even historical figures he admires being unfailingly multifaceted, attempting sober, realistic and objective assessments – it is here that his history turns from a story of the movement into a thundering, apocalyptic prophecy and a stirring plea. And that plea for Palestine is – in the finest tradition of the Russian educated class (as, even if he wasn't personally the beneficiary of a Russian education, many of his Orthodox Christian Arab elite peers were) – motivated almost wholly by narodnichestvo. It’s practically Slavophil in its emotional content.
He takes it upon himself to speak to English-speaking audiences on behalf of the politically-voiceless Levantine peasant, attached firmly to his land and to his neighbours by inexpressibly-profound bonds of love, and oppressed not only by British and French mandatory maladministration, not only by Zionist settlement, but also by the shortsightedness and greed of the Arab landowning class and traditional tribal elites.
The Arab Awakening was, in its own day, a capital-‘i’ important work of contemporary history, invaluable to the English speaker who wanted to understand the Middle East. And Antonius’ work remains, even in an era where the Arab nationalist dream seems faded and outdated and its supporters thrown into despair and confusion, eerily relevant. Many of the predictive and admonitory aspects of the work – particularly those pertaining to Iraq and Palestine – have indeed come to pass. There are, indeed, weaker passages: it’s hard to read Antonius’ treatment of the House of Sa’ud now, because his belief that their land-grab in the Hijāz would force them to modernise and moderate their followers’ fundamentalism now comes off as painfully naïve. But in the broad strokes, this is still an extraordinary book and well worth the time taken to read it.