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In Tripoli: Enver Pasha’s Diary during the Turco-Italian War
This book presents for the first time an English translation of the letters of Enver Pasha, one of the Ottoman Empire’s most iconic and controversial figures, compiled into the form of a diary written in Libya during the Turco-Italian War (1911–1912).
From vivid accounts of battle preparations and political intrigue in Istanbul to intimate reflections beneath the Cyrenaican night sky, Enver’s writing reveals the mind of a man torn between duty, ambition, and love. His words trace the emotional and ideological journey of an Ottoman officer determined to rally the Muslim world against Italian encroachment — even as he contends with uncertainty and isolation. Alongside these firsthand journal entries are the deeply personal letters he sent to his wife during the war, offering a rare glimpse into his private thoughts, fears, and ideals amidst the desert campaign.
Translated with fidelity to the original tone and historical context, this collection sheds light on a pivotal yet often misunderstood episode in Ottoman history. It is a must-read for those interested in Libyan or Ottoman history, or for those simply interested in the man himself.
From vivid accounts of battle preparations and political intrigue in Istanbul to intimate reflections beneath the Cyrenaican night sky, Enver’s writing reveals the mind of a man torn between duty, ambition, and love. His words trace the emotional and ideological journey of an Ottoman officer determined to rally the Muslim world against Italian encroachment — even as he contends with uncertainty and isolation. Alongside these firsthand journal entries are the deeply personal letters he sent to his wife during the war, offering a rare glimpse into his private thoughts, fears, and ideals amidst the desert campaign.
Translated with fidelity to the original tone and historical context, this collection sheds light on a pivotal yet often misunderstood episode in Ottoman history. It is a must-read for those interested in Libyan or Ottoman history, or for those simply interested in the man himself.
- GenresHistory
127 pages, Paperback
Published June 17, 2025
27 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
July 13, 2025
In Tripoli is a diary by Ismail Enver Pasha, an Ottoman war general sent to establish local governance with the aim of aiding and creating perpetual resistance to Italian colonial expansion. It is not necessary to trace his career, starting from his education and continuing up to his deployments within the empire, the book does well to initially set us up with a cursory view of his life. Upon opening the book, immediately the reader is struck by the first entry and its poetic quality:
“Tonight I am very tired…Everything is sorrowful for me…The homeland, battered and wounded by the enemy’s bayonets, is mourning in its sickbeds. Even you, as emotional as you are, cannot imagine my current state. As I sat alone in the compartment and the train rolled along the banks of the Vardar, I contemplated the tragic events of the past weeks. The moon cast its silvery glow on the river, black patches here and there, and shadows of the steep slopes flanking the narrow valley danced across the silver ribbon of the stream. And the train, following the natural path laid out before it, carried my sorrows away through the peace of the night.”
The inward thoughts of this general consume these pages and engage us with a portrait of individuality, rather than prioritising technical information or the like, although we get vague descriptions of the latter in organisational activities, which do not occupy a central place here. Just having seen the opening passage, one thing is clearly visible and follows Enver’s writing throughout. The first is persistent melancholia. If we consider the background of ‘decline’, or inefficiency that followed the Ottoman empire in its late-period, and despite this notion being increasingly challenged, the sentiment is overwhelmingly clear. The author isn’t necessarily documenting information for historical purposes but for a specific audience, one that shares not an anxiety, indeed Enver is almost fascinated with fate to the point of fatalism, but a sweeping inner wave that seems to frame time itself. To add to this are letters to Naciye Sultan littered throughout, of which a limited selection are made and only on the criteria of any relationship to the war effort, yet, alongside lush descriptions of the environment (‘evergreen oases of fragrant bushes from which arborvitae trees proudly stretch upwards’), they provide ample material for those of a romantic bent.
To a certain extent these diaries also proffer anthropological gems that give an English-speaking audience insight into the society of the Arabs. Here, a disclaimer is warranted. There is space to make a claim, tentatively, of a view held of the Arabs from the vantage point of a new enlightened officer-class from the centre. That is, the Arabs are primitive yet pure, devotional and brave, generally possessing provincial characteristics, “my Arab soldiers are like children”. Nonetheless, this is a very real affection, without prejudice. Enver even seems to be annoyed by having to answer the call of legitimacy by letting his beard grow. In one letter to Naciye Sultan he promises without doubt that he should shave it off, “Insha’Allah…I’ll tidy myself up as before”. He also appears discomfited by the slavery practised among the tribes as demonstrated in this passage:
“In the meantime, Sidi Ahmed’s men have arrived, they brought many gifts for the Sultan and me…two Negro slaves…I want to set them free and send them to Constantinople. Ah, my dear friend, mankind is always cruel, whether ‘civilised’ or not, it makes no difference, and belonging to this species is, no matter what, regrettable.”
There is special relief in his observations for the faithful, from the “unexpected arrival of a relative of the Caliph” and “The Arabs know no Enver Bey…they respect the son-in-law of the Caliph”. We know of the ‘transnational’ nature of Islam already and readers will surely find it touching to see it reiterated in the real observations Enver has made of the power of the symbol of the Caliph and the moral and physical strength of resistance against outside intrusion. Their loyalty to this structure is to the extent that in one quote we read:
“...Libya is our arm and our leg, but Istanbul is our heart. If we lose our arm and leg, we can still live; but if we lose our heart, we cannot…”
Impressive is the willingness of the tribes to submit to a central authority, civil administration and the machinery of government make frequent appearances in later entries.
“They were even willing to pay taxes, the heaviest burden to them, something quite unheard of for a nomadic population.”
Interestingly, a guard constituting the sons of tribal leaders was formed. It would appear that modernisation was readily being imported in breaking up tribal influence. A short entry on economics and stable currency completes the picture of the local government Enver worked to build, an economy centred around maintaining the borders of the “homeland”.
What does Enver want in Tripoli? There is a moral duty to the homeland and “ample opportunity to earn ‘glory’”. Ever present is his desire for martyrdom. In one entry, Enver imagines himself as such:
“Do you know what I want? To return like an old knight, like a Roman warrior, carried on a shield upon the shoulders of my soldiers.”
Melancholia and total confidence in the project being built appear to wrap around each other in varying levels. Constant victories against the Italians, records of casualties, and strategic notes also frequently appear in the entries. Here we arrive at the major value of this translated work, the picture of inevitable defeat being burnt at the consistent successes. As a matter of fact at some point, despite arriving with concern at the general war picture, Enver appears to worry more about politics and the English. We are assured that the Italians cannot move beyond the coast, in range of their naval guns. Spies inform Enver’s camp that the soldiers are weary, battered and in a state of hopelessness. It is not always war where we lose, but at times, politics. These diaries tell us of a man, but they also inform us of a new way of thinking, of approaching our own history. This book has set a foundation and its significance will be hopefully proven by future additions.
“Tonight I am very tired…Everything is sorrowful for me…The homeland, battered and wounded by the enemy’s bayonets, is mourning in its sickbeds. Even you, as emotional as you are, cannot imagine my current state. As I sat alone in the compartment and the train rolled along the banks of the Vardar, I contemplated the tragic events of the past weeks. The moon cast its silvery glow on the river, black patches here and there, and shadows of the steep slopes flanking the narrow valley danced across the silver ribbon of the stream. And the train, following the natural path laid out before it, carried my sorrows away through the peace of the night.”
The inward thoughts of this general consume these pages and engage us with a portrait of individuality, rather than prioritising technical information or the like, although we get vague descriptions of the latter in organisational activities, which do not occupy a central place here. Just having seen the opening passage, one thing is clearly visible and follows Enver’s writing throughout. The first is persistent melancholia. If we consider the background of ‘decline’, or inefficiency that followed the Ottoman empire in its late-period, and despite this notion being increasingly challenged, the sentiment is overwhelmingly clear. The author isn’t necessarily documenting information for historical purposes but for a specific audience, one that shares not an anxiety, indeed Enver is almost fascinated with fate to the point of fatalism, but a sweeping inner wave that seems to frame time itself. To add to this are letters to Naciye Sultan littered throughout, of which a limited selection are made and only on the criteria of any relationship to the war effort, yet, alongside lush descriptions of the environment (‘evergreen oases of fragrant bushes from which arborvitae trees proudly stretch upwards’), they provide ample material for those of a romantic bent.
To a certain extent these diaries also proffer anthropological gems that give an English-speaking audience insight into the society of the Arabs. Here, a disclaimer is warranted. There is space to make a claim, tentatively, of a view held of the Arabs from the vantage point of a new enlightened officer-class from the centre. That is, the Arabs are primitive yet pure, devotional and brave, generally possessing provincial characteristics, “my Arab soldiers are like children”. Nonetheless, this is a very real affection, without prejudice. Enver even seems to be annoyed by having to answer the call of legitimacy by letting his beard grow. In one letter to Naciye Sultan he promises without doubt that he should shave it off, “Insha’Allah…I’ll tidy myself up as before”. He also appears discomfited by the slavery practised among the tribes as demonstrated in this passage:
“In the meantime, Sidi Ahmed’s men have arrived, they brought many gifts for the Sultan and me…two Negro slaves…I want to set them free and send them to Constantinople. Ah, my dear friend, mankind is always cruel, whether ‘civilised’ or not, it makes no difference, and belonging to this species is, no matter what, regrettable.”
There is special relief in his observations for the faithful, from the “unexpected arrival of a relative of the Caliph” and “The Arabs know no Enver Bey…they respect the son-in-law of the Caliph”. We know of the ‘transnational’ nature of Islam already and readers will surely find it touching to see it reiterated in the real observations Enver has made of the power of the symbol of the Caliph and the moral and physical strength of resistance against outside intrusion. Their loyalty to this structure is to the extent that in one quote we read:
“...Libya is our arm and our leg, but Istanbul is our heart. If we lose our arm and leg, we can still live; but if we lose our heart, we cannot…”
Impressive is the willingness of the tribes to submit to a central authority, civil administration and the machinery of government make frequent appearances in later entries.
“They were even willing to pay taxes, the heaviest burden to them, something quite unheard of for a nomadic population.”
Interestingly, a guard constituting the sons of tribal leaders was formed. It would appear that modernisation was readily being imported in breaking up tribal influence. A short entry on economics and stable currency completes the picture of the local government Enver worked to build, an economy centred around maintaining the borders of the “homeland”.
What does Enver want in Tripoli? There is a moral duty to the homeland and “ample opportunity to earn ‘glory’”. Ever present is his desire for martyrdom. In one entry, Enver imagines himself as such:
“Do you know what I want? To return like an old knight, like a Roman warrior, carried on a shield upon the shoulders of my soldiers.”
Melancholia and total confidence in the project being built appear to wrap around each other in varying levels. Constant victories against the Italians, records of casualties, and strategic notes also frequently appear in the entries. Here we arrive at the major value of this translated work, the picture of inevitable defeat being burnt at the consistent successes. As a matter of fact at some point, despite arriving with concern at the general war picture, Enver appears to worry more about politics and the English. We are assured that the Italians cannot move beyond the coast, in range of their naval guns. Spies inform Enver’s camp that the soldiers are weary, battered and in a state of hopelessness. It is not always war where we lose, but at times, politics. These diaries tell us of a man, but they also inform us of a new way of thinking, of approaching our own history. This book has set a foundation and its significance will be hopefully proven by future additions.
July 14, 2025
Beyond the cold-hearted exterior lies a compassionate, emotional, romantic, intelligent, philosophical, and religious soul
November 29, 2025
An intimate insight into the altruistic mind of a sensitive young man.
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews