Fallow Fields, Famine and the Making of Lebanon
Total Page：16
File Type：pdf, Size：1020Kb
FALLOW FIELDS FAMINE AND THE MAKING OF LEBANON A Dissertation submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences of Georgetown University in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in History By Graham A. Pitts, M.A. Washington, DC June 3, 2016 Copyright 2016 by Graham A. Pitts All Rights Reserved ii FALLOW FIELDS: FAMINE AND THE MAKING OF LEBANON Graham A. Pitts, M.A. Thesis Advisor: John R. McNeill, Ph.D. ABSTRACT This dissertation narrates Lebanon’s environmental history through the lens of the country’s World War I famine. My analysis uses the catastrophe as a prism through which to reconstruct Lebanese agrarian life. Between 1887 and 1914, as many as 150,000 Lebanese migrated to the Americas. On the war’s eve, remittances from abroad formed the largest source of income for the Lebanese, followed by the export of silk. Wartime conditions made both sources of income all but impossible to obtain and the ensuing famine exposed the vulnerabilities of Lebanon’s reliance on global flows of humans and capital. One in three Lebanese perished during the war. Years of demographic instability became a crisis of excess mortality once the war denied the population access to its livelihood and the safety valve of migration. By taking the human relationship with the rest of nature as its unit of analysis, my study posits broad continuities between the late Ottoman period and the French Mandate era whereas most studies have seen World War I, and the subsequent imposition of French colonialism, as a decisive rupture. Lebanon’s silk economy—already languishing before the war—continued its trajectory of decline despite French plans to energize commercial agriculture. The latter stumbled amidst falling global demand and the degradation of the Lebanese landscape, a salient (an unremarked upon) legacy of the silk industry. Lebanon’s environmental history shows that human ecological relationships were much less apt to rupture than the discourses and governmental strategies that have been the primary object of recent scholarship on the history of Lebanon and the modern Middle East. iii For my family, and especially the memory of my grandfather T. Clyde Auman (1909-2000), peach farmer and progressive North Carolina legislator. iv NOTE ON TRANSLITERATION AND STYLE For Arabic-language transcription, I have relied on the style guide of the International Journal of Middle East Studies (IJMES). The names of places and people will therefore lack diacritical marks except hamza and cayn. For Turkish-speaking Ottoman officials, I have transliterated their names according to the rules of modern Turkish (Cemal and not Jamal; Hakkı and not Haqqi). For citation purposes, I have followed the Chicago Manual of Style 16th edition. In at least three cases, I have intentionally deviated from the IJMES transliteration system to respect the spelling of names as they were romanized by their owners: thus, Khalil Gibran (and not Jibran), the Sursock family (not Sursuq), and Louis Cheikho (not Shaykhu). In other cases, I have reproduced the spelling of town names as they were rendered in Roman characters by their own inhabitants. In most cases I have respected IJMES transliteration, however, even in cases that could easily be puzzling to those familiar with Lebanon. For instance, Zahla and Juniya have been preferred to the more recognizable Zahlé and Jounieh (the latter renderings are more faithful to the pronunciation of Lebanese dialects of Arabic and represent standard transliterations for Lebanese). v ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS Whoever has taught me [even one] letter, I have become a servant unto them [man callamani ḥarfān ṣurtu lahu cabdān]. c - Ali bin Abi Talib Such is the extent of debts incurred in writing this dissertation, it would be impractical to follow Ali’s saying in any literal sense. In acknowledging those that made this project possible, however, I would like to invoke Imam Ali’s sentiment of humility and gratitude. Meanwhile, I must also lament that I will be hard pressed to repay the help that has been given to me by hosts of kind people, in several countries, over the course of this dissertation’s prolonged gestation. Since I arrived as a master’s student, Georgetown University’s history department has afforded me every opportunity to succeed as a scholar. Judith Tucker had sufficient imagination to detect promise in the first incarnation of my work on Lebanon’s agrarian history. Her encouragement convinced me to pursue a PhD. Since then, she has been my principal mentor in the study of Middle East history. John Tutino indulged my interests in the history of Mexico and shaped my intellectual worldview with his distinctive approach to the history of its rural communities. For all of us studying Ottoman history, Mustafa Aksakal’s mentorship has been invaluable. Among Georgetown’s history faculty, I must also thank ِDavid Painter, Alison Games, Gabor Agoston, Aviel Roshwald, Bryan McCann, Tommaso Astarita, Dagomar Degroot, and Susan Pinkard for their kindness. The members of the department’s administrative staff made this project possible. I thank Djuana Shields, Kathy Gallagher, Jan Liverance, Carolina Madinaveitia, and Sara Keck for their grace and industry in managing our department’s affairs. Several years ago, fellow North Carolinian Akram Khater graciously agreed to serve on the committee for this dissertation in exchange for just a half-peck bag of peaches. Akram’s contribution to the project is at least two-fold: he shined a light on key archival depositories and his scholarship on rural Lebanon lent the foundation for my own work. There is no way to adequately express thanks to my advisor John R. McNeill. Needless to say, this project would not have come to fruition without his steadfast mentorship. He stayed late to workshop research papers, edited rough drafts on weekends, and always had an encouraging word to say. I thank him for his patience, high standards, and relentless perseverance in support of this project. It is said that our history faculty maintain a uniquely collaborative atmosphere. The same is true for the graduate students in our department. From the moment I walked in the door years ago, senior graduate students Emrah Safa Gurkhan, Anand Toprani, Jonathan Wyrtzen, and Zeinab Abu al-Majd were more than generous with guidance and encouragement. vi Many current Georgetown colleagues and friends contributed to this dissertation in critical ways. They are: Kate Dannies, Benan Grams, Faisal Hussein, Jackson Perry, Graham Cornwell, Laura Goffman, Enass Khansa, Nick Danforth, Eric Gettig, Chris Gratien, Jeff Reger, and Önder Akgul. From outside Georgetown, I thank Secil Yilmaz, Reem Bailony, Sam Dolbee, and Zach Foster. Paul Kohlbry, Nate Christensen, and Jess Martin joined me in designing a seminar on Arab historiography at the Center for Arabic Study in Cairo. Our “Skype” theory workshop was later an invaluable intellectual home. More than simply providing assistance, Zach Foster and Chris Gratien should properly be acknowledged in their regard as collaborators. The three of us pooled research and worked as a collective. Our solidarity has made each of our scholarship more rigorous. It also made the process more rewarding. The success of my work in Lebanon relied on the kindness of others. Several archivists in Lebanon afforded me gracious help. At the Université Saint-Esprit de Kaslik, Father Joseph Moukarzel granted me access to collections that were ultimately crucial for this dissertation. At Kaslik’s archive, I now count Elie Elias, Abir Khoueiry, Rodica Ojeil, and Nancy Machaalany as friends. At Notre Dame University, Guita Hourani lent me invaluable assistance, as did Sami Salameh. Sami welcomed my weekly visits to the Maronite Patriarchate’s archive at Bkirki and I benefitted from his intimate knowledge of its collection. At the American University of Beirut, Samar Mikati has been kind to host me over the course of eight years of research. Nadine Knesevitch, Iman Abdallah, and Mirvat Kobeissi made my time in the basement archive as pleasant as it was efficient. Upstairs, Fatmeh Charafeddine, Carla Chalhoub, Alberto Haddad, and Claude Matar were equally gracious and helpful. At the St. Paul Society in Harissa, Father George Khawam and his predecessor Elias Aghia were generous to allow me access to their monastery’s daily register. Lebanese historians Suad Slim, Abdallah Said, and Abdallah al-Mallah took time to give me guidance at critical moments. Samer Frangieh always made himself available to give counsel. When I first arrived for research in Lebanon in 2008, Natalia Sancha and Karim Sadek hosted me in Monot. In the intervening eight years, I have not forgotten their graciousness. Thinking I had found the pinnacle of hospitality in the Arab world, I later found its rival in France. Elodie and Iban Julien lent me their apartment in Paris for months on end. Her cousins Guillaume and Noemi Clement generously opened their home to me when I first arrived in Nantes. Also in Nantes, Sandrine Mansour and her family made me feel as if the city were my home, and introduced me to Fabienne Georgin and Jean Paul Trouillet, in whose home I lived for months. I now count as Sandrine, Fabienne, and Jean Paul as life-long friends. In Istanbul, Secil Yılmaz and her sister Seval surpassed all reasonable expectations of friendship by opening their home in Okmeydani to me for a month. In Turkey I was also happy to be able to count on the friendship of Georgetown colleagues Emrah Safa Gurkhan, Selim Güngörürler, Kahraman Sakul, and Chris Gratien. On several occasions, Chris offered me his extra room in Feriköy. He also introduced me to vii archives in Turkey and took time to help me assess Ottoman documents. In the latter regard, I must also cite the patient and able efforts of Abdullah Uğur.