“By the second decade of the twentieth century, the Ottoman Empire had long been in a state of seemingly terminal decline. The proverbial ‘sick man of Europe,’ its epitaph had begun to be written as far back as the 1850s, and in the intervening years no fewer than five of the imperial powers of Europe had taken turns snatching away great swaths of its territory. That the Ottomans had managed to avoid complete destruction thus far was due both to their skill at playing off those competing European powers and to no small measure of improbable good luck. In 1914, however, all that was about to change. By guessing wrong – very wrong – in the calamitous war just then descending, the Ottomans would not only bring on their own doom but unleash forces of such massive disintegration that the world is still dealing with the repercussions a century later…”
- Scott Anderson, Lawrence in Arabia: War, Deceit, Imperial Folly and the Making of the Modern Middle East
Despite the ennobling gloss later applied by President Woodrow Wilson, the First World War is best understood as a purely European conflict that slipped the borders of the continent. Though it was fought on all corners of the globe, this was a function of the imperial nature of the main players, whose far-flung colonies had helped precipitate the conflict in the first place. Far from an attempt to “make the world safe for democracy,” the First World War more resembled the Napoleonic Wars of the early 1800s, waged to establish the hierarchy of Europe. The main differences in the two struggles, separated by a century, were the technologies involved, and the array of allies chosen by each side.
The Euro-power-motivated nature of the First World War can best be seen in its conclusion, when instead of following the Wilsonian ideals of self-determination, the victorious allies divvied up the remains of three fallen empires. This was especially true in the Middle East where, after having supported an Arab uprising against the Ottoman Empire, Great Britain and France divided up the region into areas of direct, indirect, and joint control. Those decisions – to separate some people, while joining others, for the benefit of the colonizing powers – still reverberate today. Years of instability, war, and heartbreak are the bitter fruits of their victory in World War I.
This is a complex story, with many interlocking parts. If you are looking for a broad overview, Scott Anderson’s Lawrence in Arabia is probably not where you want to start. But if you already know the overarching framework, and want a ground-level presentation of how it played out, told in novelistic fashion through the eyes of the participants, you can’t do better than this.
Anderson structures Lawrence in Arabia in such a way that it is told through the experiences of four central characters. There is Curt Prüfer, a German academic who tried to incite an Islamic jihad against the British; Aaron Aaronsohn, a Zionist in the employ of the Ottoman Empire, who forged a spy ring in Palestine; and William Yale, a Standard Oil man sent to wring concessions from the Turks, who ended up drawn into the vortex of war.
Towering above them all is Thomas Edward Lawrence, the famous and controversial “Lawrence of Arabia.” A young officer with no true military background (he was an archaeologist before the war), Lawrence found himself in “a sideshow of a sideshow,” able to do a remarkable amount of geopolitical freelancing in the deserts. With the attention of Great Britain focused intently on the Western Front, he set about bending events to his will. Together with Faisal ibn Hussein, Lawrence helped formulate an overall strategy for the Arab Revolt, while also capturing key cities, shooting up trains, and blowing up bridges. Despite their success, Faisal’s vision of a pan-Arab nation never came to pass.
Lawrence is a fascinating figure, and no matter what you ultimately think about him, he definitely commands the stage. Though honored in his time, Lawrence’s reputation has fallen dramatically since reaching its zenith in David Lean’s famous film. Part of this is the reality that in a post-colonial world, the employee of a colonizer is treated with suspicion, even though Lawrence worked against Great Britain’s interests in favor of the Arabs. Part of this also comes from the fact that Lawrence probably received too much credit for the overall result in the Middle East. He was, after all, only one man, and it was the Arabs that did most of the actual fighting. Lawrence did not help matters by sprinkling his memoir – Seven Pillars of Wisdom – with various lies and falsehoods.
One of Anderson’s chief achievements here is to put Lawrence in his proper context. Just because he received too much credit, does not mean he does not deserve any. By carefully sifting the evidence – including an examination of the fictions of Seven Pillars of Wisdom – Anderson is able to present a balanced portrait.
Anderson is a journalist and war correspondent, not a historian. The distinction is important, but not necessarily in the way you might think. Anderson’s profession does not mean that Lawrence in Arabia is some rewarmed compendium of secondary sources, or a hurriedly written sketch of events. No, this is history, and deeply researched. Lawrence in Arabia is over five-hundred pages of text, and its endnotes demonstrates careful review of primary documentation. It might not be written by an academic, but it is academically strong.
Rather, Anderson’s journalistic background comes through in the way that Lawrence in Arabia is told. This is written like a historical thriller, shifting among the perspectives of its featured stars. The upshot is an immediacy to the narrative, the marvelous sense that you are living the events alongside them. You are led into a world of intrigue, betrayal, treachery, and vicious warfare, where prisoners were seldom taken by either side.
The downside is that it can be hard to follow the labyrinthian plots, especially when you are only shown small parts of it at a time. There were a couple moments when I set Lawrence in Arabia down to consult a more general reference.
The only other criticism I have of Lawrence in Arabia is its choice of cast. Anderson clearly shows the importance of both Lawrence and Aaronsohn. The necessity of following Yale and Prüfer is not nearly so obvious. I would have preferred more time with Faisal ibn Hussein, Hussein bin Ali, or Djemal Pasha instead.
Any writer who ventures into the realm of the Middle East is embarking upon a fraught project. There is no single, agreed-upon truth, and it is hard to say anything without deeply offending someone. In my opinion, Anderson does a good job on this tightrope. He is savage in his condemnation of Great Britain and France’s territorial acquisitiveness, which encompasses the ugly traits of arrogance, greed, and superiority. At the same time, he does not ignore atrocities on the part of the Ottoman Empire, including the Armenian Genocide, which killed upward of a million people, yet is strangely forgotten among the crimes of this world. While harsh in his judgments of empires, Anderson is more forgiving of the men and women involved. He makes a real attempt to look through eyes as disparate as Sarah Aaronsohn, Djemal Pasha, T. E. Lawrence, and even Mark Sykes, for whom the division of the Arabian Peninsula was a mere intellectual exercise. Acknowledging the humanity of all involved does not excuse mistakes, but deepens the tragedy, giving this book an impact you don’t always find in nonfiction.