Quick viewing(Text Mode)

Egypt's Ottoman Past

Egypt's Ottoman Past

“Remembering” ’s Ottoman Past: Ottoman Consciousness in Egypt, 1841-1914

Dissertation

Presented in the Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of in the Graduate School of the Ohio State University

By

Doğa Öztürk, M.A.

Graduate Program in History

The Ohio State University

2020

Dissertation Committee

Prof. Carter V. Findley, Advisor

Prof. Jane Hathaway

Prof. Scott Levi

Copyrighted by

Doğa Öztürk

2020

Abstract

Scholarship on modern Egyptian history supports a narrative that depicts Egypt emerging as an independent political entity in the mid- and steadily marching towards becoming a sovereign nation-state in the first decades of the 20th century. The Ottoman cultural context, within which Egypt operated at this time, is usually nowhere to be found in this story.

This dissertation remedies this gap in the literature and “remembers” Egypt’s Ottoman past between 1841, when Mehmed Ali was granted the hereditary governorship of Egypt, and

1914, when Egypt’s remaining political ties to the were severed by the British

Empire. Primarily based on a variety of sources produced in and , it argues that even though the political ties between and were weakening and a more distinct Egyptian identity was on the rise at this time, the Ottoman cultural consciousness continued to provide an important framework for the ruling and intellectual elite of Egypt, as well as the wider segments of the Egyptian public, until I. Taking a thematic approach to the subject, the dissertation demonstrates how the Ottoman imperial court provided a blueprint for the ruling elite in Egypt. Moreover, it asserts that Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt, both male and female, continued to self-identify as “Ottomans” in their reactions to some of the momentous events that the Ottoman Empire was facing at the end of the

19th and early 20th centuries. Additionally, it demonstrates how these Arabic-speaking intellectuals utilized the idea of Ottoman consciousness in their efforts to resist European , which became particularly urgent after Britain occupied Egypt in 1882. Finally, my dissertation asserts that wider segments of the public in Egypt continued to demonstrate a sense of Ottoman consciousness in their reactions to the aforementioned events that the Ottoman

Empire was going through at the time.

ii

Dedication

To my parents, “Ders çalışırken” bana her zaman destek oldukları için

iii

Acknowledgments

One of the first sections that I usually read when I open a book is the

“Acknowledgements.” I always take a strange pleasure in going over whom the thanked and whether there is anyone I know among the names that are listed. Right now, I am very glad that I reached a point where I have to write one myself. I must say that countless individuals played a role in helping me get where I am today and I apologize from the start if I cannot include every single one of them here.

I will begin with my advisor, Prof. Carter V. Findley. Through his example and mentorship, Prof. Findley taught me how to be a true scholar. He always pushed me to produce the best work that I could put forth and showed me the importance of being diligent and rigorous in my writing. From the first moment that he agreed to take me on as a doctoral student, Prof.

Findley continued to believe in me and made me realize that I had what it takes to do many things that I thought I was not capable of doing. He was always ready to assist me and provided support whenever I needed him. It goes without saying that this dissertation would not have been possible without his guidance.

Prof. Jane Hathaway was the one who introduced me to the academic literature on

Ottoman Egypt. The comments that she made on an early proposal for this project continued to provide me with guiding principles throughout the whole writing process. Her seminars taught me how to think about Islamic history as well as how to critically engage with primary sources.

The conversations I had with her, whether in her office, at a Thanksgiving dinner, or through e- mail, gave me with the emotional support that enabled me to keep on going, especially at times when I was not really sure I could. It was also a pleasure to be her grader at numerous points in

iv

my career as a graduate assistant, where I learned a lot from her on how to be an effective teacher.

Prof. Scott Levi was the one who taught me to think critically about the idea of “empire.”

His emphasis on the necessary balance that had to exist between theory and empirical data was also something that I took from him and tried to integrate in my work as a scholar. In his role as the chair of the department, he was also very helpful in assisting me to navigate the bureaucratic processes of the school.

The archival research on which this dissertation is based would not have been possible without the financial assistance that I received from a number of sources. The Adıvar

Fellowship, provided by the Ohio State University Department of History, enabled me to visit numerous archives and manuscript libraries in Istanbul and in the academic year of

2015-2016. Further research in London in the summers of 2017 and 2018, was made possible by the Graduate Student Research Grant from the Mershon Center for International Security Studies as well as the Sydney N. Fisher Memorial Award in Ottoman and Turkish Studies from the Ohio

State University Department of History. I also want to extend my gratitude to the at the

Prime Ministry Ottoman Archives in Istanbul and the British Library and the National British

Archives in London, who provided me with valuable assistance in conducting my research.

In addition to my committee members, a number of individuals contributed to a great extent to my intellectual and professional development as a scholar. Prof. Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu, whose and their Cultural Legacy provided the first impetus for this dissertation, was kind enough to meet me multiple times in Istanbul and discuss my project. He also read an earlier of the chapter on Kadriye Hüseyin and made very useful comments, for which I want to extend my gratitude. In my two sessions at Middlebury Arabic Summer School, in the

v

summers of 2013 and 2014, I was fortunate enough to work with Ustadha Hanan, Shahira

Yacout, Immam Awad, and Yasser Mokhtar, who taught me the intricacies of Arabic grammar and provided me with the necessary skillset that enabled me to tackle complex texts in Arabic.

At the Ottoman and Turkish Summer School in Cunda, Selim Kuru introduced me to the complex world of Ottoman paleography and was kind enough to discuss my project, which was at its very early stages at the time. Finally, Simon Waldman, my advisor at King’s College

London, was the first person who pushed me towards doing archival research and who also taught me to “go the extra mile” and find my own voice in my work.

Friends and colleagues from many parts of the world supported me throughout my career as a graduate student. During his time at Ohio State University, Saba Nasseri was a true friend, someone whom I consider myself lucky to have met. The conversations that we had, spanning a diverse of topics, some academic and some not so academic, made my life in Columbus much more bearable. Yeliz Çavus was one of the best archival research buddies that I could ask for.

She also provided me with the encouragement that I needed more times than I care to admit as well as letting me crash at her place when I needed somewhere to stay in Columbus in November

2019. Isacar Bolaños made it much easier for me to navigate the whole writing process and answered my incessant questions with the patience of a saint. Gülşah Torunoğlu shared her experiences with me regarding her research, introduced me to the archives in Istanbul, and gave me ideas on how to approach my own topic. Patrick Scharfe was my first housemate when I started the program at the Ohio State and I truly enjoyed his companionship and the late night talks that we had about pretty much everything. Johanna Sellman provided me with invaluable assistance in her role as the Librarian at the Ohio State University. The lunch and dinner breaks that I took with Jake Steinhart before I headed back to the library were always a

vi

pleasure. The same is also true for the talks that I had with Emre Demirocak. I am grateful to

Catalina and Garrett Hunt for welcoming me to their home and keeping an eye on my stuff while

I was away from Columbus. Friends from other parts of the , Ryan Rudat, James

Sheehan, Brianna -Gaynor, and Chisda Magid, and Oscar Aguirre-Mandujano also helped me one way or another during my graduate studies. Lastly, Alienor Chalot, in addition to assisting me with French translations, also always encouraged me to keep on going.

At this point, I do not think I can find the adequate words to thank Onur Güven, Ulaş

Öztürk, and Idil Yanmaz, whose apartment I more or less “invaded” for long stretches of time during my many (for them, probably too many) research and writing trips to London. I am grateful for their friendship and for the fact that they chose not to kick me out. It was always wonderful to hang out with Chris Bates and Ghazaleh Djafari-Marbini, two of my best friends from my Master’s program, whenever I was in . Doğukan Atmaca was a great research companion at the British Library and it was always a pleasure to have a discussion on Egypt with

Mohamed Abdou, whether in London or at a kebab place in Istanbul.

In Istanbul, Onur Şener was always there to hang out when I needed a break from the academic world. Ghazaleh Djafari-Marbini, while she was living in Istanbul, was a great companion to explore the restaurants in the with. She also went over and edited a lot of my writing, for which I am very grateful. Birge Birgin helped me with a number of French translations while also coming up with “interesting” ideas for the historical novel that she still thinks I should write. And Nafi Mitrani taught me how to be kinder to myself and to put things into perspective when the going got tough.

vii

A number of my friends deserve a special mention because without them, I would not be where I am today. Onur Güven, Cem Karadeniz, Erdem Ünlüer, and Özlem Ünlüer, my friends of many years, have been a constant source of encouragement and support throughout my whole career as a PhD student. They supported me emotionally, listened for hours when I complained, and picked me up when I fell down and did not have the strength to go on. They continued to believe in me even when I stopped believing in myself. This dissertation could not have been completed without their presence in my life. So I want to thank you guys once again and want you to know that you mean a lot to me. Maybe even more than you know.

Finally, I have also the members of my family to thank. The Sunday strolls that I took with my uncle, Şefik Öztürk, on the South Bank in London were something I always looked forward to. He always showed a genuine interest in what I was working on and taught me the importance of taking things onestep at a time. My aunt (hala) Remziye Öztürk, my aunt in law on my mother’s side, Mukaddes Gülten, and my mother’s cousin Perihan Kıraç, continued to encourage me throughout the years even though at times, they could not understand why I took so long to finish. Our family’s pet budgie, Sabit, was a great writing companion to have as he sat perched upon my shoulder when I was working at home on this project. And last but not least, I want to thank my parents, Sevgi and Şekip Öztürk. My mother was the one who instilled in me the joy of reading. I remember seeing her always with a book in hand when I was a kid and I am glad that I inherited the passion that she has for books, even though I may have taken it a little too far. My father always taught me to strive for doing the best I can, whatever it was that I was working on at the moment. Without their constant support and encouragement over the years, my whole academic journey would not have been possible. Iyi ki varsınız, sizi çok seviyorum!

viii

Vita

June 2004 ...... Robert College, Istanbul,

May 2008 ...... B.A., Economics and Foreign Affairs

University of

January 2013 ...... M.A., Middle East and Mediterranean Studies

King’s College London,

September 2012 to present ...... Graduate Teaching Associate

Department of History, The Ohio State University

Fields of Study

Major Field: History

ix

Table of Contents

Abstract ...... ii

Dedication ...... iii

Acknowledgements ...... iv

Vita ...... ix

Note on Transliteration ...... xi

Introduction: “Remembering” Egypt’s Ottoman Past ...... 1

Chapter 1: Ottoman Nişans in Egypt: Symbols of Ottoman Consciousness, 1841-1909 ...... 36

Chapter 2: An Egyptian Victory: The Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 and “Ottoman Consciousness” in Egypt ...... 80

Chapter 3: An “Ottoman Moment” in Egypt: The of 1908 ...... 135

Chapter 4: The and Ottoman Consciousness in Egypt ...... 177

Chapter 5: Kadriye Hüseyin: A Forgotten Ottoman-Egyptian Intellectual ...... 217

Conclusion: ...... 247

Bibliography ...... 252

x

Note on Transliteration

Two main languages, Ottoman Turkish and Arabic, were used in Egypt between the mid-19th and early 20th centuries. This dissertation utilizes a variety of sources produced in both of these languages. While transliterating sources written in Ottoman Turkish, I opted to use the standards of modern Turkish orthography. This was mainly due to simplicity. Therefore, words transliterated from Ottoman Turkish do not have the conventional diacritical marks and are written in the modern Turkish alphabet. As for sources written in Arabic, I followed the guidelines suggested by the International Journal of Middle East Studies. The names of the members of the Mehmed Ali Pasha are treated as Ottoman names in order to emphasize the Ottoman background of these figures. For this reason, the names of these individuals are rendered in modern Turkish. On the other hand, the names of the Arabic-speaking intellectuals, bureaucrats, and other members of the Egyptian society are transliterated according to the conventions of Arabic. Finally, the place names in Egypt are also transliterated in Arabic orthography unless they have a commonly used counterpart in English.

xi

Introduction: “Remembering” Egypt’s Ottoman Past

On 23 January 2019, an exhibition opened in the Aisha Fahmy Palace, located in Cairo’s famous district. Titled “Features of an Era” and curated by the Center of Arts, the exhibition was a celebration of Ali (“Mehmed Ali” in Ottoman Turkish) and the members of the dynasty that he founded. The visitors wandering around in the Aisha Fahmy

Palace could appreciate paintings and sculptures of the most important figures of the dynasty, including Muhammad Ali Pasha himself and Ismail, rendered by various European artists who were commissioned by the Egyptian ruling family. A number of photographs from the late 19th and early 20th centuries were also displayed in the palace. The exhibition came at a time when middle-class , frustrated by the political and economic instability that plagued Egypt since the 2011 Revolution, were looking back nostalgically at the time when

Egypt was ruled by the members of the , especially the time of King

Farouk, who reigned between 1936 and 1952, before he was deposed by the Free Officers

Revolution.1

The exhibition catalogue makes for an interesting read. In a brief piece that he wrote to introduce the exhibition, Ahmad Abd al-Fattah, head of Egypt’s Central Administration of

Museums and Exhibitions, stated that it contained “artworks of Muhammad Ali’s dynasty and a number of historical figures, who represented an important period in this nation’s history,” adding that the works displayed were useful in getting to know a time period that was “lived by our grandfathers and our ancestors.”2 Yasser Mongy, an assistant professor at the Faculty of Fine

1 el-Shalakany, “Why Some Egyptians Yearn for Return to ,” al-Monitor, 8 August 2016, https://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/ru/originals/2016/08/egypt-return-monarchy-king-farouk-sisi-economic- crisis.html. Accessed 21 April 2020. 2 Ahmad Abd al-Fattah, Treasures of Our Art Museums 3: Features of an Era, (Cairo: Center of Arts, 2019), Exhibition catalogue, http://www.fineart.gov.eg/AllPics/Catalogs/PDF/171/mobile/index.html#p=261 accessed 21 April 2020.

1

Arts in Cairo, echoed al-Fattah’s views and took them further in his essay on the exhibition.

Mongy stated that the exhibition aimed at analyzing the “moral values and personal traits” of the members of the Muhammad Ali Pasha dynasty, who, according to Mongy, were misunderstood and misrepresented in the Egyptian public imagination. Mongy argued that Muhammad Ali and his successors were sometimes portrayed as elites who were distant from the Egyptian population. As an example, he mentioned the classic Egyptian movies, where the Egyptian ruling elite had been depicted as individuals who spoke Arabic with thick accents and had a decadent lifestyle. The exhibition, Mongy argued, worked towards countering this image and situated the

Muhammad Ali Pasha dynasty as “locals,” who “had felt love for Egypt and had the ambition to achieve urban renaissance and civilization whose traces still remain so far.”3 In light of this line of reasoning, Mongy depicted members of the Muhammad Ali Pasha dynasty such as “Prince

Omar Toussoun” and “Princess Samiha Hussein” as patrons of arts, who worked towards revitalizing arts and culture in Egypt.4

Upon closer reflection on the exhibition catalogue, an important phenomenon becomes obvious. The Ottoman Empire, which ruled Egypt between 1517 and 1914, is nowhere to be found in this narrative. For who are familiar with the and the late Ottoman Empire, this omission is both surprising and expected. It is surprising because until the start of , Egypt was officially a part of the Ottoman Empire even though its political ties to Istanbul were gradually weakening and, from the British invasion in 1882 onwards, they became mostly symbolic. On the other hand, the curator’s choice of omitting

Egypt’s and the Egyptian ruling elite’s ties with the Ottoman Empire is predictable because it fits neatly with the nationalist narrative that depicts Egypt as emerging as an independent political

3 Dr. Yasser Mongy, Treasures of Our Art Museums 3: Features of an Era (Cairo: Center of Arts, 2019), Exhibition Catalogue, http://www.fineart.gov.eg/AllPics/Catalogs/PDF/171/mobile/index.html#p=261 accessed 21 April 2020. 4 Ibid. Both names are spelled here as they were rendered in the English translation of the exhibition catalogue.

2

entity with the rule of Muhammad Ali at the beginning of the 19th century and marching towards becoming a in the early 20th century. A journalist covering the exhibition captured this version of modern Egyptian history nicely when he wrote that Muhammad Ali “declared his own ‘wilayat’ (governorate) in 1805 and reintroduced Egypt as an independent state to the world.”5 In short, this exhibition presented a perfect example of “forgetting Egypt’s Ottoman past” in an effort to construct new and, in a sense, more solid historical for modern Egypt and the Egyptians.6

Scholars from various disciplines have pointed out the intricate relationship between memory and identity.7 Basing his views on this literature, Ehud Toledano argued that in the post-

World War I period, the “Ottoman-Egyptian” ruling elite8 “made a choice to forget its own

Ottoman past, and enabled the emerging nationalist leadership to reshape the nation’s historical memory so that the four-centuries’ long Ottoman could be assigned a rather dubious role.”9 The emerging Egyptian , Toledano put forth, made it necessary for the Ottoman-Egyptian elite to “forget” a big part of its collective identity “in order not to be

5 Jacob Wirtschafter, “Cairo Exhibit Takes Nostalgic Look at Arts, Culture During Monarchy,” al-Monitor, 19 February 2019, https://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/originals/2019/02/expo-casts-light-on-egypt-monarchy.html Accessed 21 April 2020. 6 Ehud R. Toledano, “Forgetting Egypt’s Ottoman Past” in Cultural Horizons: A Festschrift in Honor of Talat S. Halman, ed. Jayne L. Warner (London: Tauris, 1997), 151-152. 7 Jacques Le Goff, History and Memory trans. Steven Rendall and Elizabeth Claman (New : Columbia University Press, 1996); Paul Ricoeur, Memory, History, Forgetting, trans. Kathleen Blamey and David Pellauer (Chicago: The Press, 2004); Jonathan Friedman, “Myth, History, and Political Identity,” Cultural Anthropology 7, no.2 (May 1992):194-210; John R. Gillis, “Introduction: Memory and Identity: The History of a Relationship,” in Commemorations: The Politics of National Identity, ed. John R. Gillis (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994), 3-26; Amos Funkenstein, “Collective Memory and Historical Consciousness,” History and Memory 1, no.1 (Spring-Summer 1989): 5-26; Pierra Nora, “Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de Mémoire,” Representations 26, Special Issue: Memory and Counter-Memory (Spring 1989): 7-24. 8 For a detailed account of how this Ottoman-Egyptian elite came into existence see Ehud R. Toledano, “The Emergence of Ottoman-Local Elites (1700-1800): A Framework for Research” in Middle Eastern Politics and Ideas: A History from Within, eds. Ilan Pappé and Moshe Ma’oz (London: Tauris Academic Studies, 1997), 145- 162; Ehud R. Toledano, “The Arabic-Speaking World in the Ottoman Period,” in The Ottoman World, ed. Christine Woodhead (New York: Routledge, 2012), 459-465. 9 Toledano, “Forgetting Egypt’s Ottoman Past,” 151-152.

3

‘edited out’ of the newly emerging nation and modern state of Egypt.”10 Toledano also depicted the role that the discipline of history and numerous historiographical trends in Egypt played in the reconstruction of the official memory and deleting or marginalizing Egypt’s Ottoman past.11

Even though this project proved to be successful as a result of the “memory work” that was undertaken by the “new” Egyptian elite and the Egyptian nationalist intellectuals, Toledano emphasized the importance of remembering the fact that until the collapse of the Ottoman

Empire, the cultural orientation of the elite in Egypt was toward Istanbul and that pro-Ottoman sentiments continued to be common in Egypt.12

This dissertation takes Ehud Toledano’s arguments as a starting point and “remembers”

Egypt’s Ottoman past from 1841, when Mehmed Ali Pasha was granted the hereditary governorship of Egypt, until 1914, when Britain severed Egypt’s remaining ties with the

Ottoman Empire at the beginning of World War I. In it, I argue that even though the political ties between Istanbul and Cairo were weakening and a more distinct Egyptian identity was on the rise at this time, the Ottoman cultural consciousness continued to provide an important framework for the ruling and intellectual elite of Egypt, as well as the wider segments of the

Egyptian public, until World War I. Taking a thematic approach to the subject, I demonstrate how the Ottoman imperial court culture provided a blueprint for the ruling elite in Egypt.

Moreover, I assert that Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt, both male and female, continued to self-identify as “Ottomans” in their reactions to some of the momentous events that the

Ottoman Empire was facing at the end of the 19th and in the early 20th century, namely the

Ottoman-Greek War of 1897, the Young Turk Revolution of 1908 and the Balkan Wars of 1912-

1913, even though many of these intellectual figures are known to have been proponents of

10 Ibid., 152. 11 Ibid., 153-159. 12 Ibid.166-167.

4

Egyptian territorial nationalism. Additionally, I also show how these Arabic-speaking intellectuals utilized the idea of Ottoman consciousness in their efforts to resist European imperialism, which became particularly urgent after Britain occupied Egypt in 1882. Finally, my dissertation asserts that wider segments of the public in Egypt continued to demonstrate a sense of Ottoman consciousness in their reactions to the aforementioned events that the Ottoman

Empire was going through at the time.

In a sense, I analyze the familiar (and some not so familiar) figures of late 19th and early

20th century Egypt from a different perspective. Looking at a painting of Khedive Ismail Pasha, I zoom in on the medals pinned on his chest and question what they mean from the viewpoint of

Ottoman imperial culture. In the following pages, Ömer Tosun Pasha does not appear as an intellectual who wrote books on Egyptian history to cement his position in the newly emerging

Egyptian nation-state but as a member of the Ottoman-Egyptian ruling elite who went to great lengths in helping the Ottoman Empire when it was in dire need of assistance. Similarly, Kadriye

Hüseyin replaces her sister Semiha in my narrative and I depict her as an important forgotten

Ottoman-Egyptian intellectual. In short, I shed light on what turned out to be the final period of the Ottoman era in Egypt and depict how Egypt continued to be an integral part of the Ottoman cultural milieu until the early 20th century.

A Brief History of Ottoman Egypt

The history of Ottoman Egypt mainly begins with ’s defeat of the

Sultanate in 1517, after which Egypt became a of the Ottoman Empire. Following the conquest, the Ottomans faced a number of challenges to their authority, but they gradually succeeded in integrating Egypt into the Empire’s administrative network, even though Egypt had a distinctive place within the Ottoman administration. The main foundational block in this

5

process was the kanunname (code of laws) of Süleyman I’s grand Ibrahim Pasha that was issued in 1525.13 In the subsequent centuries, the Egyptian province came to play a very important role for the Ottoman Empire. It was, for instance, a source of revenue and agricultural products for Istanbul as well as a center of provision for the other parts of the

Empire.14 In addition, the conquest of Egypt gave the Ottomans control of the Islamic holy ,

Mecca and Medina, enabling the Ottoman to add religious legitimacy to their rule. Egypt also had a crucial strategic importance for being the main bridgehead of the Empire’s operations in the and the in the 16th century.15 Additionally, the province played a major role in the Ottoman conquest of in the 1538 while Egyptian troops also participated in the Ottoman campaigns elsewhere in the Empire such as the conquest of in

1669.16

As recent scholarship attests, in the 17th and 18th centuries the Ottoman Empire went through a period of “crisis and adaptation” when the Ottomans had to face a series of interrelated political, economic, social, demographic, and environmental problems, which were reflected in

13 Michael Winter, Egyptian Society Under Ottoman Rule 1517-1798 (London: Routledge, 1991), 7-17; Jane Hathaway with contributions by Karl K.Barbir, The Arab Lands Under the Ottoman Rule, 1516-1800 (Harlow, UK: Pearson Education, 2008), 53-56. 14 Jane Hathaway, The Politics of Households in Ottoman Egypt: The Rise of the Qazdağlıs (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 6; Alan Mikhail, Nature and Empire in Ottoman Egypt: An Environmental History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011) 7, 88-123. 15 For Egypt’s role in Ottoman campaigns in the Indian Ocean see Giancarlo Casale, The Ottoman Age of Exploration (Oxford: , 2010). 16 Jane Hathaway, A Tale of Two Factions: Myth, Memory, and Identity in Ottoman Egypt and Yemen (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 2003), 3-4; Hathaway, The Politics of Households, 6-7.

6

Egypt as well.17 As a result of the various changes that the Ottoman Empire had to adopt in order to survive, characterized generally as the Empire’s transformation from a military-expansionist state to more of a bureaucratic and revenue-collecting structure,18 the Ottoman authority in Egypt was contested sporadically in the 17th and 18th centuries by the members of localized “Ottoman-

Egyptian” elite. Most famous of these individuals was Ali al-Kabir, a member of the influential Qazdağlı household that dominated Egypt in the 18th century, who “revolted” against the Ottoman sultan in the late 18th century.19 Even though Ali Bey al-Kabir’s movement was put down in 1773, a more serious challenge to Ottoman rule in Egypt came in 1798, in the form of

Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt.20

In addition to being a major event for the history of Middle East in general, ’s invasion of Egypt in 1798 forms the backdrop for the emergence of Mehmed Ali Pasha as an important actor in the history the province. Mehmed Ali arrived in Egypt in 1801 as a part of the joint Ottoman-British expeditionary force, which evacuated the French forces from Egypt. At this time, reigned in the province and Mehmed Ali managed to defeat his rivals in his rise to Egypt’s governorship, which was granted to him in 1805 by Sultan Selim III. At first,

Mehmed Ali was obedient towards Istanbul, undertaking military campaigns on behalf of Sultan

17 For the most recent literature on this topic, see, Suraiya Faroqhi, “Crisis and Change, 1590-1699” in An Economic and Social History of the Ottoman Empire, ed. Halil Inalcık with Donald Quataert (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994); Metin Kunt, The Sultan’s Servants: The Transformation of Ottoman Provincial Government, 1550-1650 (New York: Columbia University Press, 1983); Halil Inalcık, “Military and Fiscal Transformation in the Ottoman Empire, 1600-1700,” Archivum Ottomanicum 6 (1980): 283-337; Dina Rizk Khoury, State and Provincial Society in the Ottoman Empire: , 1540-1834 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997); Baki Tezcan, The Second Ottoman Empire: Political and Social Transformation in the Early Modern World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010); Ali Yaycıoğlu, Partners of the Empire: The Crisis of the Ottoman Order in the Age of Revolutions (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2016); Sam White, The Climate of Rebellion in the Early Modern Ottoman Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011). 18 Leslie Peirce, The Imperial : Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993), x; Hathaway, The Arab Lands, 59. 19 For the rise of the Qazdağlı household in Egypt see Hathaway, The Politics of Households 52-106; for a conventional account of Ali Bey al-Kabir see Daniel Crecelius, The Roots of Modern Egypt: A Study of the Regimes of ‘Ali Bey al-Kabir and Muhammad Bey Abu al-Dhahab, 1760-1775 (Minneapolis: Bibliotheca Islamica, 1981). 20 For Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt, see Juan Cole, Napoleon’s Egypt: Invading the Middle East (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007).

7

Mahmud II in the against the Wahabbis in 1813 and in and Crete in 1825-1826.

When he was denied the governorship of , however, he turned against the sultan and invaded in 1831. Under the command of Mehmed Ali’s son Ibrahim, the newly reformed of Egypt inflicted a series of defeats on the Ottoman troops, moving further into in 1832. As a result, Mahmud II was forced to grant Mehmed Ali the governorships of Hejaz and

Crete, in addition to Egypt, while his son Ibrahim took control of Syria. Desperate for assistance,

Mahmud II concluded an alliance with . This move, however, worried other European powers to a great extent. In 1838, Britain signed a commercial treaty with the Ottoman Empire

(the Baltalimanı Treaty). One year later, another showdown occurred between the Sultan’s and

Mehmed Ali’s where the Egyptian troops defeated the Ottomans once again. This time, however, the European powers got involved and forced Mehmed Ali to retreat from the areas that he invaded in Syria and the Hejaz . In 1841, Sultan Abdülmecid gave Mehmed Ali

Pasha the governorship of Egypt for life as well as granting his male descendants hereditary rights to the office.21

During his time as the governor of Egypt, which lasted until 1848, Mehmed Ali undertook a series of reforms to improve Egypt’s economy, , education, and military, leading some scholars to label him as “the founder of modern Egypt,” a topic that I will examine in the next section of this introduction. Once he left the scene, the governorship of Egypt went first to his son Ibrahim, and later on to his younger sons Abbas and Said . After Mehmed

Ali, the other important figure in the conventional narratives of 19th century Egypt, however, is his grandson Ismail Pasha, who became the governor of Egypt in 1863. Determined to follow the footsteps of his grandfather, Ismail Pasha revitalized the reform process that stalled under Abbas

21 Carter Vaughn Findley, Turkey, , Nationalism, and Modernity: A History, 1789-2007 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010), 46-49.

8

and Said. He focused especially on reforming the education system in Egypt in order to be able to supply Egypt’s expanding bureaucracy with capable cadres, while he transformed the urban face of Cairo by modernizing it along European lines. The famous was also completed and opened during the time of Ismail. The other major development at this time was the fact that Ismail Pasha succeeded in convincing Sultan Abdülaziz to change the succession principle for the Egyptian province from seniority to primogeniture in 1866. One year later, the

Egyptian governor received the “khedive,” while the province became a “khedivate,” confirming Egypt’s special position within the Ottoman Empire.22

In order to finance his grandiose projects, Khedive Ismail resorted more and more to borrowing from the European capital markets, setting up the scene for another major turning point in 19th-century Egyptian history, namely the British occupation of Egypt in 1882. As a result of the end of the boom of the mid-19th century, which lasted during the American

Civil War, the revenues of Egypt diminished considerably. By 1875, it became obvious that

Egypt was in a state of bankruptcy. In 1876, the Caisse de la Dette Publique (Public Debt

Commission) was established, headed by representatives from Britain, , and Austria, and controlling all of Egypt’s finances. France and Britain were also putting political pressure on

Ismail Pasha through what came to be known as the “Dual Control.” Tensions came to a boiling point between the Khedive Ismail and the European representatives in 1879, as a result of which the European powers put pressure on Sultan Abdülhamid and convinced him to replace Khedive

Ismail with his son Tevfik Pasha.23 The increasing foreign control in Egypt drew the ire of many

22 Ibid., 85-87. 23 F. Robert Hunter, “Egypt Under the Successors of Muhammad ‘Ali,” in The Cambridge History of Egypt Volume 2: Modern Egypt, From 1517 to the End of the Twentieth Century, ed. M.W Daly (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 186-189.

9

segments of the population and led to the 1882 army officers’ revolt led by Urabi Pasha, which in turn gave Britain the pretext to occupy Egypt in 1882.24

The British occupation came as a shock to Egypt. The Ottoman political control over the province was reduced mostly to the symbolic level. The continued to rule over their autonomous governments but the real power was in the hands of the British agents, the most famous of whom was Her Majesty’s Agent and Consul General Lord Cromer, who basically ruled Egypt until 1907, and the ministries of the khedive’s government all had British “advisors.”

After a period of inactivity, anti-British sentiment started to be articulated in the 1890s through the burgeoning press in Egypt. This period also witnessed the emergence of Egyptian nationalist leaders such as Muṣṭafā Kāmil, who played a major role in Egyptian politics until his death in

1908. Numerous political parties started to be established at the turn of the 20th century, demanding the end of British rule. Nevertheless, with the start of World War I, Britain actually tightened its control over Egypt, declaring it to be a British , and severed the province’s remaining ties with Istanbul. “Ottoman Egypt” was no more.25

The Historiography of Ottoman Egypt: A Contested Field

The account above, then, is a relatively straightforward history of Ottoman Egypt. The way this history is interpreted, however, presents a more complicated picture that needs to be analyzed carefully in order to understand how Egypt’s Ottoman past was actually forgotten until recently. After Egypt gained nominal independence from Britain in 1922, it became a constitutional monarchy, headed by King Fuad I, who was the son of Ismail Pasha.26 As

Toledano argues, the new Egyptian ruling elite felt the need to legitimize their rule over Egypt, a

24 For a detailed account of the ‘Urabi Revolution, see Juan R.I Cole, and Revolution in the Middle East: Social and Cultural Origins of Egypt’s ‘Urabi Movement (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993). 25 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 136-137, 212. 26 Mustafa L. Bilge, “Fuad,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, accessed May 4, 2020, https://www.islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/fuad--kral.

10

necessity that became especially acute in the politically tumultuous environment of the 1920s and 1930s, when the was jostling for power with the nationalist leadership in Egypt.

In order to achieve their goals, the descendants of Mehmed Ali resorted to constructing a historical narrative that put them in a favorable light, while also taking steps to influence the historiographical tradition in the decades to come.

The main pillar of this process was laying down the foundations of an official Egyptian state archive. In the 1920s, King Fuad started a project of organizing the ‘Ābdīn Palace archives in Egypt that became the predecessor for the current Egyptian National Archives (Dār al-

Wathā’iq al-Qawmiyya) in Cairo. The main goal of this archival and historiographical project was, as Yoav Di-Capua puts it, “to explain the modern Egyptian experience as part of a story of modernization and transition whose center was the dynasty itself,” and therefore, the material in the ‘Ābdīn palace archives “was consciously constructed to support this particular founder’s thesis.”27 To this end, Fuad recruited a number of European scholars who catalogued, classified and indexed the official documents relating to the rule of the Mehmed Ali Pasha dynasty. More important, however, was the fact that the documents that were in Ottoman Turkish, considered to be a language that was “the residue of a decadent world,” were translated into Arabic and

French, two languages that Egyptian and non-Egyptian (especially European) scholars could deal with more easily. Hence, from the mid-1920s onwards, scholars who were working in the ‘Ābdīn archives did not, and in a sense could not, use the original source materials in Ottoman Turkish but resorted mainly to the Arabic and French translations of these documents, a fact that distorted their final scholarly output. Moreover, the of the documents was mostly limited to the time period between 1789 or 1805 and 1882, and therefore was supportive of the thesis that

27 Yoav Di-Capua, Gatekeepers of the Arab Past: Historians and History Writing in the Twentieth Century Egypt (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2009), 92.

11

identified the “birth” of modern Egypt with Mehmed Ali Pasha and his successors, paying particular attention to Ibrahim and Ismail Pashas.28 In short, the ‘Ābdīn archive, in Di-Capua’s words, “was not intended to support historical work on Egyptian history across time. Rather, it was thematically and chronologically organized in order to lend support to the saga of state formation under Muhammad Ali [Mehmed Ali] and his successors.”29 It could be claimed that the ‘Ābdīn archives both told the story of and represented the birth of modern Egypt.30 Anything that did not fit in this narrative, such as Egypt’s ties to the Ottoman Empire and Ottoman culture, was deliberately “silenced.”31

While the “construction,” in multiple senses of the word, of the ‘Ābdīn archives determined what constituted “proper historical knowledge” when it came to the history of modern Egypt, it was the intellectual output of the “royalist historians,” who produced works on

Egyptian history in the 1920s and 1930s, which helped solidify the narrative that was propagated by the ruling family. It must be mentioned that even before the opening of the ‘Ābdīn Palace archive, scholars such as Aḥmad Shafīq and Amin Sami produced works that depicted the

Egyptian ruling family as the central actor in the history of modern Egypt. These works, however, were mostly encyclopedic and did not present a coherent narrative structure.32

Therefore, in 1928, King Fuad invited Gabriel Hanotaux, a French and a member of the prestigious Académie française, and asked him to produce a history of Egypt. After a period of deliberation, Hanotaux agreed and started working, as a result of which he published his seven- volume Histoire de la nation égyptienne (“History of the Egyptian Nation”) between 1931 and

28 Ibid., 102-105. 29 Ibid., 110. 30 Ibid., 136-137. 31 I borrow this idea mainly from Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Silencing the Past: Power and Production of History (Boston: Beacon Press, 2015 [1995]). 32 Di-Capua, Gatekeepers of the Arab Past, 81-85.

12

1940.33 As the publishing information indicates clearly, the book was issued under the patronage of King Fuad himself, even though he died in 1936, before all the volumes could be published.34

In addition to Hanotaux, other European scholars, such as Pierre Crabitès,35 Georges Douin,36 and Angelo Sammarco37 produced books on the different aspects of history of modern Egypt in the 1920s and 1930s. All these scholars based their works on the documents that they had collected in the newly catalogued and organized ‘Ābdīn archives. More importantly for the purposes of this discussion, however, is the fact that all these works reproduced the same

“founder’s paradigm” that depicted the Mehmed Ali Pasha dynasty as the only viable historical actor of modern Egypt, while downplaying or outright omitting Egypt’s Ottoman past. In fact,

Henry Dodwell, a British historian at the University of London, wrote a book that was one of the first historical works that labeled Mehmed Ali Pasha as the “founder of modern Egypt.”38

At about the same time that the royal historiographical efforts were proceeding, a new interpretation of Egypt’s history started to emerge in the 1930s. This new historical trend, represented most prominently by ‘Abd al-Raḥmān al-Rāf‘ī, went against the claims made by the royal historians and advanced a new and nationalist historical interpretation that perceived the

“people” as the main driving force for the Egyptian history. Born in 1889, al-Rāf‘ī was a lawyer by training, who only started to write works of history in an amateur fashion in the 1920s.39 He was coming from a middle class background and was familiar with Egypt’s Ottoman cultural

33 Ibid., 123-125. 34 Gabriel Hanotaux, Histoire de la nation égyptienne 7 vols. (: Ouvrage publié sous les auspices et le haut patronage de sa majesté Fouad Ier, Roi d’Égypte , 1931-1940). 35 Pierre Crabitès, Ismail the Maligned Khedive (London: Routledge and Sons, 1933). 36 George Douin, L’Égypte de 1802 à 1804 (Cairo: Société royale de géographie d’Égypte, publications specials, 1925). 37 Angelo Sammarco, Histoire de l’Égypte moderne depuis Mohammed Ali jusqu’à l’occupation britanique 1801- 1882, 3 vols. (Cairo: Société royale de géographie d’Égypte, 1937). 38 Henry Dodwell, The Founder of Modern Egypt: A Study of Muhammad Ali (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1931). 39 Anthony Gorman, Historians, State and Politics in Twentieth Century Egypt: Contesting the Nation (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003), 84-85.

13

framework. In fact, Di-Capua argues that even during World War I, when the Ottoman Empire was disintegrating, “a nationalist al-Rāf‘ī refused to consider any alternative to the Ottoman order.”40 Throughout his career, al-Rāf‘ī produced a great number of books on Egypt’s history from 1798 onwards that interpreted it from an Egyptian nationalist perspective. Since he was not granted access to the ‘Ābdīn archives after a certain time because his views did not match with the narrative that was put out by the royal palace, he utilized alternative sources such as newspaper collections in his books. His body of work came to be known as the “National Corpus

(al-mawsū’a al-waṭaniyya) and influenced scholars for generations to come.41

Two characteristics of al-Rāf‘ī’s works stand out as important for this analysis. First, contrary to what royal historians argued, al-Rāf‘ī de-emphasized the role of Mehmed Ali and his successors in the history of modern Egypt. Instead, he brought concepts such as the “Egyptian people” as historical actors into the foreground and underlined the role that they played in shaping the history of modern Egypt. In his book on Mehmed Ali, for instance, even though he praised his reforms, al-Rāf‘ī presented Mehmed Ali not as the main historical actor but as an instrument of the popular forces in Egypt.42 In the same work, al-Rāf‘ī also leveled sharp criticisms against Mehmed Ali’s successors whose policies, al-Rāf‘ī argued, led to the implementation of foreign control in Egypt.43 Following this line of argument, al-Rāf‘ī published a very critical account that focused on the reigns of Abbas, Said and Ismail Pashas, which he labeled “the Age of Ismail.” According to al-Rāf‘ī, the problems that Egypt faced at the end of the 19th and in the early 20th century, such as bankruptcy and foreign occupation, originated at

40 Di-Capua, Gatekeepers of the Arab Past, 149. 41 Ibid., 150. 42 ‘Abd al-Raḥmān al-Rāfi‘ī, ‘Aṣr Muḥammad ‘Alī (The Age of Muhammad Ali) (Cairo: Matba‘at al-fikra, 1930), 43 Ibid., 662-665.

14

this time.44 In this sense, al-Rāf‘ī once again went against the views advanced by the royal historians who presented the successors of Mehmed Ali Pasha, especially Ismail, as the great modernizers of Egypt. It must be mentioned, however, that similarly to the royal historians, al-

Rāf‘ī never questioned the framework that presented “Egypt” as a distinct historical and political entity from Mehmed Ali Pasha’s reign onward, a framework that continued to shape the thoughts of generations of scholars to come.45

The other point that al-Rāf‘ī shared with the royal historians was about the role that the

Ottoman Empire played in the history of Egypt. Just as the royal historians did in their works, al-

Rāf‘ī, and the Egyptian nationalist historiography of which al-Rāf‘ī was the most prominent representative, viewed Egypt’s Ottoman past as insignificant to anything concerning the history of modern Egypt. His work on the history of the nationalist movement in Egypt, for instance, starts with 1798 and gives short shrift to the Ottoman era, depicting it as an age of backwardness.46 Once again, al-Rāf‘ī described the Ottoman Empire as corrupt and decadent in his book on the Age of Ismail, arguing that the Ottoman government forced Ismail Pasha to pay the imperial treasury an extraordinary amount of money, referring to the bribes that Ismail Pasha had to pay in order to change the succession principle for Egypt’s governorship from seniority to primogeniture.47

Based on this overview, then, it may be safe to argue that the scholars of the formative period of scholarship on modern Egypt, whether they belonged to the royal or the nationalist school of thought, wholeheartedly accepted and agreed upon the “founder’s thesis.” This thesis

44 ‘Abd al-Raḥmān al-Rāfi‘ī, ‘Aṣr ‘Ismā‘īl (The Age of Ismail) (Cairo: Dār al-Ma‘ārif, 1987 [1932]), 73. 45 Di-Capua, Gatekeepers of the Arab Past, 61. 46 ‘Abd al-Raḥmān al-Rāfi‘ī, Tārīkh al-ḥaraka al-qawmiyya wa tatawwur niẓām al-ḥukum fī Miṣr (The History of the Nationalist Movement and the Development of the Governmental System in Egypt) Vol 1 (Cairo: Dār al- Ma‘ārif, 1987 [1929]), 27-70. 47 al-Rāfi‘ī, ‘Aṣr ‘Ismā‘īl, Vol 1, 85-86.

15

argued that with Mehmed Ali, a new and independent Egyptian community emerged that was distinct from the Ottoman order, to which Egypt had belonged since 1517. This Ottoman order, these historians claimed, was “foreign” to Egyptians and represented a period of “decline” and

“backwardness.” As Di-Capua puts it succinctly, the founder’s thesis, “detached the nineteenth century from the rest of Egypt’s historical experience, reduced the medieval era to nothing, and insisted on the uniqueness of the modern era.” At the same time, Egypt also came be considered not merely as a province of the Ottoman Empire but as a distinct historical actor, a nation-state called “Egypt.”48

The “founder’s thesis” had a long shelf life among scholars who worked on 19th-century

Egyptian history. One of the most important of these historians is Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot, whose Egypt in the Reign of Muhammad Ali provides the most representative example of the modern scholarship that takes Mehmed Ali to be the “founder of modern Egypt.” Marsot bases her work on a dichotomy that she constructs between the “Ottoman Empire” and “Egypt,” arguing that the story of Mehmed Ali Pasha was the story of Egypt trying to break free of the

Ottoman rule which, Marsot suggests, was oppressive and foreign to Egyptians. Marsot acknowledges the fact that culturally, Mehmed Ali considered himself as an Ottoman. According to her, this was why Mehmed Ali “patterned himself on an Ottoman gentleman …, and clung to his Ottoman identity even when he despised, or claimed to despise, the Ottomans.”49 It also explained, Marsot argued, why Mehmed Ali Pasha tried to revive the Ottoman culture in

Egypt.50 Marsot is confident, however, that even though Mehmed Ali Pasha displayed traits of being culturally an Ottoman, he planned from the very start of his governorship to become

48 Di-Capua, Gatekeepers of the Arab Past, 177-178 49 Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot, Egypt in the Reign of Muhammad Ali (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984), 32. 50 Ibid,, 33.

16

independent of the Ottoman Empire (by 1806 at least) and only “pretended” to act as a member of the Ottoman order.51 Moreover, echoing the formative period of Egyptian historiography and the founder’s thesis, Marsot advances the view that the “empire” that Mehmed Ali had founded with his son Ibrahim, “separated Egypt quite definitely from the Ottoman empire [sic].”52 Marsot praises the reforms that Mehmed Ali implemented and concludes, “Thus Muhammad Ali and his new administration inevitably put Egypt on the path of independent statehood and self- recognition as having a separate identity distinct from other and Ottomans.”53 In this sense, she again underlines the dichotomy that she claims to have existed between the Ottoman

Empire and Egypt, as well as between “Ottomans” and “Egyptians.” As Khaled Fahmy puts it,

Marsot’s account suggests the pre-existence of a distinct Egyptian identity that Mehmed Ali reactivated through his reforms even though he “was of a different ethnic, linguistic, and cultural background from his subjects…. In other words, Mehmed Ali is a national hero in spite of himself.”54

Marsot reiterated her views in her book on the history of modern Egypt, which was first published in 1985 and reissued in 2007 in an extended form and with a different title. The book covered Egypt’s history from the Arab conquest onwards. Here, she argues again for the existence of the same antagonistic relationship between the “local population” and the

“Ottomans,” who are depicted as corrupt and rapacious.55 Marsot claims that by the time the

French invaded Egypt in 1798, the Egyptians were fed up with Ottoman rule and believed that a

51 Ibid., 42-44. 52 Ibid., 97. 53 Ibid., 264 54 Khaled Fahmy, All the Pasha’s Men: Mehmed Ali, His Army and the Making of Modern Egypt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), 24. 55 Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot, A History of Egypt: From the Arab Conquests to the Present, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007 [1985]), 61-62.

17

new alternative was possible “if only they could find the proper person.”56 Not surprisingly, this person was Mehmed Ali Pasha, to whom the Egyptian religious leaders, or ulama, offered the governorship of Egypt “according to the will of the people.”57 Mehmed Ali, according to Marsot,

“created a state out of a former Ottoman province, and gave Egyptians a sense of identity…” while he “Egyptianized Egypt.”58 In the book, Marsot paints a generally negative picture of

Mehmed Ali’s successors, Abbas and Said Pashas. Abbas Pasha, she describes as being a reactionary since he wanted “a return to the Ottoman fold,” while she pins the blame for Egypt’s financial problems on Said Pasha for starting the construction of the .59 Only Ismail

Pasha gets slightly better treatment. More important for the purposes of this analysis, however, is the fact that Marsot continues to treat “Egypt” as a separate political entity that was marching towards becoming a sovereign nation in her account of the province between 1841 and 1914, while the Ottoman Empire is barely mentioned in her narrative.60

Another key example of the “founder’s thesis” version of 19th -century Egyptian history was written by Robert Hunter. In his 1984 work, Hunter focuses on the period between 1849 and

1879 and analyzes the changes in the bureaucracy of Egypt as well as the composition of the ruling elite. Hunter also perceives Egypt as a completely distinct political entity from the reign of

Mehmed Ali onwards and argues that the structural changes in the Egyptian bureaucracy

“signified a movement towards the nation state.”61 Since Hunter does not question this assumption, it is not surprising that the Ottoman Empire and the Ottoman context are once again missing from his analysis. Moreover, Hunter recycled the view that there was a relatively hostile

56 Ibid., 61. 57 Ibid.,63. 58 Ibid., 72, 77. 59 Ibid., 78-80. 60 Ibid., 78-95. 61 F. Robert Hunter, Egypt Under the Khedives: 1805-1879: From Household Government to Modern Bureaucracy (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1984), 4.

18

relationship between an “alien” elite, which he labeled as “Turkish,” and the native Egyptians.62

Similar to Marsot, Hunter based his account primarily on the documents that he consulted in the

Egyptian National Archives (Dār al-Wathā’iq al-Qawmiyya), the foundation of which was the

‘Ābdīn Palace archives. As is evident from his bibliography, Hunter mainly consulted Arabic translations of the Ottoman Turkish documents as well as documents that were translated into

French.63 In other words, Hunter could not go outside the framework that was constructed by the royal historiographical project of the 1920s and 1930s, analyzed above, and therefore was confined to the limits of the same “founder’s thesis” that the Egyptian ruling elite had embraced and propagated.

This “founder’s thesis” came under revisionist scrutiny from the late 1980s onwards. One of the most significant correctives to this particular brand of narrative came with Khaled

Fahmy’s work on Mehmed Ali Pasha. Fahmy positions himself directly against the brand of historiography that Marsot represents and argues against the view that Mehmed Ali was a

“national hero,” who saved Egypt from the Ottoman yoke. He contradicts the view that a separate primordial “Egyptian nation” or “Egyptian identity” existed for centuries that had been suppressed during the Ottoman period and that was rekindled by the policies of Mehmed Ali

Pasha. Instead, Fahmy advances the view that a primordial “Egyptian nation” did not actually exist. According to Fahmy, Egypt came to be referred as a nation due to Mehmed Ali’s policies, especially through the new disciplining and surveillance methods that Mehmed Ali implemented through the new army that he built and the institutions that he established, such as schools and the bureaucratic apparatus.64 In this sense, Fahmy shares Timothy Mitchell’s opinions on the emergence of in the second half of the 19th century, where Mitchell

62 Ibid., 41, 52, 83-88. 63 Ibid., 267-268. 64 Fahmy, All the Pasha’s Men, 18-19.

19

underlines the role of “modern” institutions that were established in Egypt in constructing a sense of Egyptian identity.65

Fahmy argues, however, that this process was not as voluntary as the conventional historiography claims while he demonstrates that the Egyptian peasants put up a determined resistance against Mehmed Ali’s policies, especially his efforts at to build up his army.66 He also emphasizes the Ottoman nature of Egypt at the time of Mehmed Ali’s reign, without which it would be impossible to understand Mehmed Ali and his policies. In this sense, he claims that it was wrong to depict Ottoman rule as “foreign” or “alien” as had been done in the Egyptian historiography until that point.67 While analyzing the governor’s career, Fahmy underlines the fact that Mehmed Ali was culturally an Ottoman. He had, however, ambivalent feelings towards the Ottoman Empire and aimed mainly at carving out a for himself and his descendants within the Empire. His reforms, therefore, were not undertaken to better the life of the Egyptians but to secure Mehmed Ali’s position in Egypt in the intra-

Ottoman struggle for power of which he was a part himself. Seen through this lens, Mehmed Ali was successful.68 Finally, it is important to note that while advancing his revisionist arguments,

Fahmy relies on the documents in the Egyptian National Archives. Unlike Marsot and Hunter, however, he is careful to use the documents in Ottoman Turkish as well as in Arabic, which enable him to go beyond the established narratives on the role of Mehmed Ali Pasha in the history of Egypt.

Although very valuable in providing a fresh interpretation of a part of the history of modern Egypt, Fahmy’s analysis does not go beyond the reign of Mehmed Ali. His efforts to

65 Timothy Mitchell, Colonising Egypt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 153-154. 66 Fahmy, All the Pasha’s Men, 215-238. 67 Ibid., 25-26, 71-74. 68 Ibid., 279-294.

20

analyze the history of 19th-century Egypt within its Ottoman context are taken further in time by

Ehud Toledano, whose chronology picks up where Fahmy leaves off and focuses on the mid-19th century. To be more specific, Toledano sheds light on an often-neglected part of Egyptian history, namely the reigns of Abbas (1848-1854) and Said Pashas (1854-1863). Toledano goes against the view that analyzes 19th-century Egypt as a precursor to the Egyptian nation-state of the 20th century. According to him, the main reason for this interpretation was the fact that scholars working on this period based their works either on European sources, which argued that

Ottoman political control over Egypt was weakening from Mehmed Ali Pasha’s time onwards, or on the Arabic translations of the Ottoman Turkish archival documents, which led to “the loss of the Ottoman historical context.”69 Instead, Toledano emphasizes the Ottoman socio-cultural framework, to which the ruling elite in Egypt belonged in the mid-19th century. Going beyond the dichotomy that the royalist and nationalist historiography claimed to have existed between

“Turks,” or “Turco-” and “native Egyptians,” Toledano argues that the elite in Egypt at this time, consisting of the higher echelons of the military and bureaucracy as well as large landholders, should be considered “Ottoman-Egyptian.” Briefly put, Toledano describes this

Ottoman-Egyptian elite as sharing the common characteristics of belonging to the Istanbul- centered Ottoman high culture, being loyal to the Mehmed Ali dynasty and having an attachment to Egypt. These core members of the Ottoman-Egyptian ruling elite were mostly Muslim, came from different parts of the Empire even though some were born in Egypt, and had various ethnic backgrounds. Even lower-level bureaucrats and army officers, Toledano claims, considered themselves to be “Ottoman gentlemen,” and their wives to be “Ottoman ladies with all that these notions implied in dress, etiquette or manners and customs, and in verbal forms of

69 Ehud R. Toledano, State and Society in mid-Nineteenth Century Egypt (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 21-22.

21

."70 According to Toledano, in order to be able to fully understand the changing nature of the ruling elite in Egypt and the “gradual process of Egyptianization” of this social strata, which led to a the formation of a fully “Egyptian” elite in the first decades of the 20th century, it is important to analyze the Ottoman imperial socio-cultural context that provided an important framework in the mid-19th century.71

The most recent full length-study that situates Egypt within its Ottoman imperial context and analyzes the 19th -century history of Egypt through this lens is Adam Mestyan’s Arab

Patriotism, which, as Mestyan indicates, actually builds on Fahmy’s and Toledano’s work and covers the time period from the mid-19th century to the 1890s.72 He refuses to analyze the history of Egypt in the 19th century as a march towards becoming a nation state but interprets it as “the saga of an Ottoman province.”73 Using this lens, he argues that the history of nineteenth-century

Egypt becomes the story of the struggle of the members of the Mehmed Ali Pasha dynasty with the center and with each other for the resources of the province.74 Making a distinction between nationalism and patriotism and emphasizing the role that the imperial played in the process of national development, Mestyan claims that the local-Ottoman elites in the Arab , including Egypt, accepted the idea of patriotism that was constructed mainly in

Istanbul but developed their own interpretations of the concept. According to Mestyan, these

“provincial patriotisms did not aim at the external sovereignty of a people but at the acknowledgement of the localized representation of (Ottoman) power as a form of internal sovereignty.”75 Embracing this form of patriotism, which also emphasized the Islamic

70 Ibid., 16. 71 Ibid., 22. 72 Adam Mestyan, Arab Patriotism: The Ideology and Culture of Power in Late Ottoman Egypt (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2016), 6. 73 Ibid., 1. 74 Ibid., 4-5. 75 Ibid., 8.

22

component of the Ottoman Empire, enabled the governor of Egypt to meditate his relationship with Istanbul as well as with the local elites.76

Mestyan describes the mid-19th century, especially after the of 1854-1856, as a period of “re-Ottomanization of Egypt.”77 Going against the royalist and nationalist historiography, Mestyan depicts Ismail Pasha as a governor (and later khedive) who embraced the Ottoman culture in his life and who utilized his ties to the imperial center to solidify his position vis-à-vis the local elites in Egypt.78 Meanwhile, the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of the province constructed a new idea of “Arab patriotism,” which had components of attachment to the Ottoman Empire and the Ottoman caliph as well as to “Egypt” as a territorial unit in order to negotiate their own position within the khedivate that was codified after 1867.79 After the

British occupation, Mestyan argues, the stability of the khedivate depended partly on the approval of the Ottoman imperial government. Therefore, the ruling and intellectual elites of

Egypt emphasized the Ottoman sovereignty more strongly in the late and 1890s, especially during the time of Abbas Hilmi Pasha (1848-1854), as the Ottoman Empire came to be the main framework for patriotism in Arabic.80

For the period beyond the 1890s, there are not too many works that analyze Egypt through the context of the Ottoman Empire. For this period, scholars almost completely focus on the development of Egyptian nationalism. A mention can be made of two pieces that consider, albeit briefly, the continuing prevalence of in Egypt at this time. The first one of these works is an article written by James Jankowski on the influence of Ottomanism and Arabism in

Egypt. In it, Jankowski puts forth that even though in the 1860s and 1870s, the Egyptian

76 Ibid.,38. 77 Ibid., 34. 78 Ibid., 81-83. 79 Ibid., 162-163. 80 Ibid., 286-295.

23

intellectuals had “very little to say about Egypt’s links to the Ottoman Empire,” after the British occupation in 1882, they displayed loyalty towards Istanbul.81 Jankowski argues that this upsurge of “Ottomanness” was a tactical maneuver in the face of British occupation and that it “was not the continuation of a longstanding sense of allegiance to the Sultan.” Relying heavily and uncritically on Wilfrid Blunt’s account of Egypt,82 Jankowski claims that the Egyptian intellectuals were simply using the idea of loyalty to the Ottoman Empire as a weapon for liberating Egypt from British occupation.83 Another work written by James Jankowski and

Gershoni also touches upon a similar theme and puts forth that between 1882 and 1914 pro-

Ottoman sentiment was on the rise among intellectuals in Egypt, partly because of the religious authority that the Ottoman Empire represented as the sole independent Muslim state of the time, but more importantly as a useful instrument in “the purely Egyptian goal of terminating the

British presence in Egypt.”84 Jankowski and Gershoni agree that the Ottoman Empire “had been part of the Egyptian universe far too long to be jettisoned even in the face of Egypt's autonomous development over the nineteenth century.”85 Nevertheless, they continue to treat Egypt as a completely separate political entity at this time and insist that Egypt’s orientation toward Istanbul was mainly reawakened mainly as a way to remove the British from Egypt.

In a more general sense, the development and influence of Ottoman high culture in Egypt in the 19th and early 20th centuries have been depicted most comprehensively by Ekmeleddin

İhsanoğlu. İhsanoğlu also rejects the idea that Mehmed Ali acted from feelings of “Egyptian nationalism” and argues that the Ottoman imperial context continued to play an important role

81 James Jankowski, “Ottomanism and Arabism in Egypt, 1860-1914,” The 70, nos.3-4 (1980): 229- 230. 82 Wilfrid Scawen Blunt, Secret History of the English Occupation of Egypt: Being a Personal Narrative of Events (London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1907). 83 Jankowski, “Ottomanism and Arabism,” 231-234. 84 Israel Gershoni and James P. Jankowski, Egypt, Islam, and the : The Search for Egyptian Nationhood, 1900-1930 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), 10. 85 Ibid.

24

for Egypt at this time. According to İhsanoğlu, Ottoman culture, which he labels “Turkish” culture, actually had more of an influence in Egypt during Mehmed Ali Pasha’s time and beyond than it did in the previous centuries while it also led to the development of a distinct “Ottoman-

Egyptian” culture.86 Similarly to Toledano, İhsanoğlu emphasizes the fact that the members of the central bureaucracy and the military, as well as the landowning elite, belonged to this imperial high culture and also helped make it more widespread within the higher echelons of

Egyptian society.87 İhsanoğlu then charts the course of Ottoman-Egyptian culture’s influence in various fields, such as the Egyptian palace, bureaucracy, educational institutions and the printing industry. One important point that İhsanoğlu makes and that needs further research is the role that the concubines of the dynasty’s household played in the spread of Ottoman-Egyptian culture within Egyptian society. These “harem women,” İhsanoğlu claims, were trained in the Egyptian palace in accordance with Ottoman customs and were then married to members of the Egyptian bureaucracy and military, thus familiarizing the Egyptian elite with Ottoman imperial culture.

Moreover, İhsanoğlu draws attention to the women poets and authors who had close ties to the

Egyptian palace.88 In fact, one of these figures, Kadriye Hüseyin, is analyzed in the last chapter of this dissertation. While advancing his views, İhsanoğlu draws mostly on the Ottoman Turkish sources that he compiled over the years, while he also provides a valuable bibliography of books and periodicals in Ottoman Turkish (and, later on, in modern Turkish) that were published in

Egypt between 1798 and 1997.89

86 Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu, Mısır’da Türkler ve Kültürel Mirasları: Mehmed Ali Paşa’dan Günümüze Basılı Türk Kültürü Bibliyografyası ve Bir Değerlendirme (Istanbul: İslam Tarih, Sanat ve Kültür Araştırma Merkezi), 2006, xviii-xix, 23. 87 Ibid., xx. 88 Ibid., 49-65. 89 Ibid., 385-581.

25

In his work on history-writing in twentieth century Egypt, Di-Capua labels the period between 1900 and 1915 a “peculiar transition period” for Egypt when the Ottoman cultural order had not been totally abolished but the new Egyptian nationalist ideas were not yet fully established. According to Di-Capua, this peculiarity led the scholars of Egyptian nationalism to hurry through this era while the Ottomanists steered entirely clear of it, limiting themselves mainly to the previous century.90 The historiographical review presented above bolsters Di-

Capua’s points. It makes it evident that even though scholars pay more attention to “Egypt’s

Ottoman past” while writing about the “long nineteenth century of Egypt,” as Toledano puts it,91 a full-length study of the role that Ottoman cultural consciousness played in Egypt between the mid-19th and early 20th centuries is still missing. In this dissertation, based on sources that were produced in both Ottoman Turkish and Arabic, I fill this gap in the literature and demonstrate how the idea of Ottoman mentality continued to be a blueprint for the ruling and intellectual elite of Egypt as well as the wider segments of the Egyptian population between 1841 and 1914.

Defining “Ottoman Consciousness”: A Theoretical Framework

The theoretical framework that informs this dissertation in general and the idea of

“Ottoman consciousness” in particular is based on l’histoire des mentalites (history of mentalities). This particular brand of historiography originated in France in the 1920s among the adherents of the Annales School of history. Its earliest practitioners included Lucien Febvre and

March Bloch, who were among the founders of the Annales school as Bloch’s Les Rois thaumaturges, published first in 1924, and Febvre’s Le Problème de l’incroyance au XVIe siècle,

90 Di-Capua, Gatekeepers of the Arab Past, 70. 91 Ehud R. Toledano, “Social and Economic Change in the ‘Long Nineteenth Century’” in The Cambridge History of Egypt, Volume 2: Modern Egypt, From 1517 to the End of the Twentieth Century, ed. M.W Daly (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 252.

26

published in 1947, could be given as the two earliest examples of the history of mentalities.92

Nevertheless, while influential in setting the agenda for further research, Bloch and Febvre did not provide a solid theoretical definition of what the history of mentalities actually meant.93 This question was picked up by scholars who followed in Bloch’s and Febvre’s footsteps and who tried to define and establish the history of mentalities as a distinct method of historical analysis.

What, then, is the history of mentalities? One of the scholars who provided a coherent answer to this question was the French historian Jacques Le Goff. According to Le Goff, the idea of mentality “designates the collective coloration of mental activities, the particular way of thinking and feeling of a people, of a certain group of persons, etc.”94 The history of mentalities, then, tries to uncover these collective mental attitudes and ways of thinking of a particular group of people. Alfred Andrea explains Le Goff’s point further as he states, “Most simply understood, the historian who adopts this approach to the past examines collective traditions and structures of thought to draw from them the values and modes of perception of the groups who enshrined them.”95 Robert Darnton, one of the most important practitioners of the history of mentalities in

English-speaking academia, aptly summarizes what this method tries to achieve as he explains that the history of mentalities does not simply explore “what people thought but how they thought- how they construed the world, invested it with meaning, and infused it with emotion."96

92 Marc Bloch, Les Rois thaumaturges: Étude sur le caractère surnaturel attribué à la puissance royale particulièrement en France et en Angleterre (Paris: Gallimard, 1983 [1924]); Lucien Febvre, Le Problème de l’incroyance au XVIe siècle: La religion de Rabelais (Paris: Albin Michel, 1947), cited in Patrick H. Hutton, “The History of Mentalities: The New Map of Cultural History,” History and Theory 20 no.3 (October 1981): 242-243. 93 Hutton, “The History of Mentalities,” 242-243. 94 Jacques Le Goff, “Mentalities: A New Field for Historians,” Social Science Information 13, no.1 (1974): 87. 95 Alfred Andrea, “Mentalities in History,” The Historian 53, no.3 (Spring 1991): 606. 96 Robert Darnton, The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History (New York: Basic Books, 1984), 3.

27

One of the most fundamental tenets of the history of mentalities is the idea that people

“make sense of things by thinking within a framework provided by [their] culture.”97 The historians of mentalities argue that the culture within which people operate informs the way they think and the way they act in daily life or under certain circumstances. Instead of focusing on the abrupt changes that a society experiences, it concentrates on “the continuities and traditions of the past.”98 As Le Goff puts it, the history of mentalities is “the history of the gradual in history," which offers a critique of teleological understandings of the past.99

Based on this brief explanation, it becomes obvious that the history of mentalities provides a key foundation on which this dissertation is built. Taking the history of mentalities as a theoretical framework, I explore the cultural underpinnings that the ruling and intellectual elite of Egypt, as well as wider segments of the Egyptian population, utilized in order to make sense of the world around them and provide it with meaning. I will demonstrate that an “Ottoman cultural consciousness,” or what can be labeled as an “Ottoman mentality,” not only existed in

Egypt between 1841 and 1914 but also continued to provide a very important framework within which the Ottoman-Egyptian elite and other members of Egyptian society operated.

What I mean by “Ottoman cultural consciousness” here is a sense of belonging to the wider Ottoman world, a way for Egyptians to self-identify in various contexts in which they found themselves, and a concept that they utilized while trying to make sense of the events that they were going through from the mid-19th to the early 20th century. What I propose does not mean that Ottoman consciousness represented the only cultural framework that existed within

Egypt in the period under examination. As the scholarship on the history of modern Egypt makes abundantly clear, a growing sense of Egyptian nationalism was influential in Egypt at this time,

97 Ibid., 6. 98 Andrea, “Mentalities in History,” 606. 99 Le Goff, “Mentalities,” 86.

28

especially after the 1890s. Nevertheless, scholars working on history of mentalities suggest that more than one cultural framework can exist simultaneously within a society at any given time.100

Therefore, I argue that the existence and influence of an “Ottoman consciousness” in Egypt at this time should be taken into serious consideration for a more nuanced understanding of the history of modern Egypt as well as the history of the late Ottoman Empire. While advancing my arguments, I am careful not to take a homogenizing approach, which Peter Burke warns against in his critique of the history of mentalities.101 I acknowledge, for instance, the fact that the individuals on whom I focus may not reflect the opinions of the whole of Egyptian society. What

I argue, however, is that there is sufficient evidence to convincingly claim that a genuine sense of belonging to the wider Ottoman world continued to be prevalent in Egypt until the beginning of

World War I. Finally, I do not deny the changing balance between the sense of “Ottoman consciousness” and a more distinct sense of “Egyptian identity” at this time, in favor of the latter.

I propose, however, that this change was much more gradual than has been suggested in the literature up to now.

The Structure of this Dissertation and the Sources Used

While demonstrating the continuing prevalence of Ottoman mentality in Egypt between

1841 and 1914, I utilize a thematic approach that allows me to depict how Ottoman consciousness was understood and represented in Egypt in various contexts. One theme that I focus on is culture and how it was perceived in Egypt. As mentioned above,

İhsanoğlu claims that Ottoman high culture became much more widespread in Egypt during the time of Mehmed Ali and his descendants than at any other period in the history of Egypt.102

100 Le Goff, “Mentalities,” 92. 101 Peter Burke, “Strengths and Weaknesses of the History of Mentalities,” History of European Ideas 7, no.5 (1986): 443. 102 İhsanoğlu, Mısır’da Türkler ve Kültürel Mirasları, 23.

29

İhsanoğlu adds that the higher echelons of the Egyptian society also oriented themselves towards

Istanbul and took Ottoman imperial culture as a blueprint.103 This argument constitutes the starting point for Chapter 1. In it, I take Ottoman orders and medals as important symbols of

Ottoman imperial culture and utilize them to analyze the ongoing relationship between Istanbul and the ruling and intellectual elite in Egypt.104 The chapter argues that ever since they were first issued by the Ottoman governments in the mid-19th century, Ottoman orders and medals were perceived as important cultural symbols for the ruling and intellectual elite in Egypt. While the subsequent Ottoman governments utilized these orders and medals in order to maintain and reproduce their authority in Egypt, individuals from the Egyptian ruling family, the members of the bureaucracy, and the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt were themselves aware of the symbolic cultural value of these objects and actively sought them. What this demonstrates is that even at a time when Egypt was gradually becoming more autonomous politically, the Ottoman cultural mentality continued to play an important role in Egypt for the ruling, bureaucratic, and intellectual elite of the province.

Chapter 1 is based primarily on a series of documents that I located in the Başbakanlık

Osmanlı Arşivi (Prime Ministry Ottoman Archives) in Istanbul. These documents are catalogued under imperial orders (irade) pertaining to the provinces that had a special status, called the

Eyalat-i Mümtaze, the category to which Egypt had since 1839. The majority of the documents that form the source base of the chapter are under the taltif (honors) sub-category, which contains the imperial decrees that were issued for Ottoman orders and medals to be bestowed upon various individuals in Egypt. These documents also contain, however, the requests coming from

103 Ibid., xix. 104 For a history of Ottoman orders and medals, see Edhem Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz: Osmanlı Nişan ve Madalyaları Tarihi, (Istanbul: Osmanlı Bankası Arşiv ve Araştırma Merkezi, 2004); for an analysis of how Sultan Abdülhamid utilized these objects during his reign, see Selim Deringil, The Well Protected Domains: Ideology and the Legitimation of Power in the Ottoman Empire, 1876-1909 (London: I.B Tauris, 1999), 18-19.

30

governors of Egypt, either for the orders and medals themselves or for their berats (warrants) that had to be issued by the Ottoman sultan to award the decorations. These documents, which are used extensively for the first time in this dissertation, provide a window through which to analyze the relationship between Istanbul and the Ottoman-Egyptian elite as well as demonstrating the influence of Ottoman consciousness in Egypt between 1841 and 1914. In addition to these materials, the chapter also makes use of the Yıldız Palace archival documents which are also located in the Prime Ministry Ottoman Archives. These documents contain numerous requests and petitions to Sultan Abdülhamid for Ottoman orders and medals coming from the members, both male and female, of the Mehmed Ali Pasha dynasty. They demonstrate to what extent these objects, representing Ottoman court culture, became a symbol of prestige and distinction for the ruling elite in Egypt at the end of the 19th and in the early 20th century.

The next three chapters take some of the important events that the Ottoman Empire went through as case studies in order to examine how these events were received by the Ottoman-

Egyptian ruling elite and the Arabic-speaking intellectuals in the province, as well as the wider

Egyptian society. For these case studies, I decided on a military victory, which was a rare occurrence for the late Ottoman Empire (the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897), a period of major political upheaval and change (the Young Turk Revolution of 1908), and a catastrophic defeat

(the Balkan Wars of 1912-1913). Focusing on these different types of events, I explore how different segments of the society in Egypt self-identified in various historical contexts and how they “performed” their sense of Ottomanness.105 Moreover, these events, analyzed chronologically, also provide a lens through which to explore the changing balance over time between the “Ottoman” and “Egyptian” consciousnesses that co-existed in Egypt at this time.

105 Michelle U. Campos, Ottoman Brothers: Muslims, , and in Early-Twentieth Century (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2011), 5.

31

Chapter 2, then, focuses on the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 and what it meant for

Egyptian society. In general, the chapter argues that the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 and its aftermath led to an upsurge of Ottoman consciousness in Egypt. After giving a brief overview of the history of the press in Egypt, which also informs the next two chapters, as well as a history of the Ottoman-Greek War, the chapter demonstrates how the press covered the developments leading up to the war and the war itself, and how this coverage represented an outpouring of

Ottoman consciousness among the Arabic-speaking intelligentsia in Egypt. Moreover, the chapter claims that these intellectuals, some of whom were known to be Egyptian nationalists, utilized this sense of Ottoman consciousness to discursively resist the continuing British occupation of Egypt. Finally, the chapter also reveals the way the different parts of the population in Egypt demonstrated their sense of Ottoman consciousness by participating in the aid collection efforts that had been organized before and during the Ottoman-Greek War.

Chapter 3 moves further on in the chronology and takes one of the most important events of the late Ottoman Empire, namely the Young Turk Revolution of 1908, as a starting point to examine the existence of Ottoman mentality in Egypt. It mainly argues that, as in other parts of the Empire, the Young Turk Revolution proved to be a truly “Ottoman moment” in Egypt. The enthusiasm that the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt displayed in the press, as well as the demonstrations that were held in numerous Egyptian cities in favor of the restoration of the

Ottoman constitution, provide clear evidence for the continuing importance that the Ottoman consciousness had for Egyptian society. The chapter also claims that in line with what intellectuals in the rest of the Ottoman Empire believed at the time, the intelligentsia in Egypt also perceived of the Ottoman constitution as a way for the Ottoman Empire to grow stronger, which, they argued, would mean better protection of Egypt’s rights vis-à-vis the British. The

32

restoration of the Ottoman constitution also provided a model for some of these Arabic-speaking intellectuals and led them to call for a constitution to be implemented in Egypt as well. Lastly, the chapter sheds light on a little-known episode of the 1908 Ottoman boycott against Austria-

Hungary, which has been generally analyzed in the literature before,106 and demonstrates how this boycott was actually also implemented in Egypt and how people in Egypt participated in it widely.

After the 1908 Revolution, Chapter 4 moves on to the Balkan Wars of 1912-1913, one of the most catastrophic defeats that the Ottoman Empire suffered, which also proved to be a turning point for the prevalence of Ottoman mentality in Egypt. The chapter advances the view that the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt continued to display a sense of Ottoman mentality during this crisis. They reported on the war developments daily in the press and discussed the causes of defeat and the future of the Empire. Nevertheless, it was also clear at this point that a more distinct sense of Egyptian identity was growing among the intelligentsia, especially since they were faced with the fact that the Ottoman Empire might not last much longer. The chapter also argues that, as in the case of the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897, other segments of the

Egyptian population displayed their sense of belonging to the wider Ottoman world by participating in the donation-collection campaigns to help the Ottoman war effort, as well as the refugees fleeing the Balkan . In addition, the chapter underlines the role that the

Ottoman-Egyptian elite, especially the members of the khedivial family, played in the war in general and in the aid campaigns in particular. Finally, the role that the Egyptian Red played in the Balkan Wars is also analyzed and presented as another representation of Ottoman mentality that continued to exist in Egypt.

106 For an overview of the Ottoman boycott against Austria-Hungary, see Y. Doğan Çetinkaya, 1908 Osmanlı Boykotu: Bir Toplumsal Hareketin Analizi (İstanbul: İletişim Yayınları, 2004).

33

The main source base for these three chapters consists of Arabic-language newspapers that were published at the end of the 19th and in the early 20th century, as well as memoirs and other literary output produced by a number of intellectuals in Egypt and that I have located at the

British Library in London. As Le Goff points out, one of the most useful types of sources for the history of mentalities is "literary and artistic documents," since the history of mentalities is the history "not of 'objective' phenomena but of the representation of these phenomena."107

Therefore, in utilizing these literary sources, my goal is to examine how an Ottoman mentality informed the thinking of various members of Egyptian society under specific historical circumstances. Moreover, I analyze the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt not simply as the leading figures of Egyptian nationalism but as parts of a wider Ottoman cultural and intellectual milieu. Following Darnton’s methodology, I “concentrate more on the modes of description than on the objects described,” and zoom in on the particular way these figures expressed themselves while they reacted to the events that the Ottoman Empire was going through at this time.108

The final chapter returns once more to the Egyptian court and sheds light on Kadriye

Hüseyin, who was not only a member of the Egyptian ruling elite but also a prolific intellectual.

As İhsanoğlu points out, Kadriye Hüseyin has been a largely forgotten figure in the scholarly literature.109 In this chapter, I argue that the reason she was forgotten was that she was neither

“Ottoman enough” nor “Egyptian enough,” making it difficult for the scholars to pigeonhole her in a certain category. Chapter 5 remedies this gap and presents Kadriye Hüseyin as an important

Ottoman-Egyptian literary personality who played an active role in the wider Ottoman cultural world while also being a part of the intelligentsia in Egypt. The chapter claims that Kadriye

Hüseyin was a clear representation of an Ottoman consciousness that continued to be prevalent

107 Le Goff, “Mentalities,” 91. 108 Darnton, The Great Cat Massacre, 109. 109 İhsanoğlu, Mısır’da Türkler ve Kültürel Mirasları, 59-61.

34

in Egypt at the beginning of the 20th century. It demonstrates how this Ottoman-Egyptian female intellectual was nurtured by Ottoman literary traditions and contributed to a great extent to the

Ottoman cultural world, while also being influenced by the intellectual currents that were popular in Egypt at the time. The arguments in this chapter are mainly based on the five books that Kadriye Hüseyin published in Ottoman Turkish between 1909 and 1915, which can be located mainly in the Istanbul University Manuscript Library. These works are analyzed in detail for the first time in this chapter and using them, I “recover” this forgotten literary figure from relative oblivion and accord her the importance that she deserves.

35

Chapter 1: Ottoman Nişans in Egypt: Symbols of Ottoman Consciousness, 1841-1909

Introduction

The 19th century witnessed the Ottoman Empire’s efforts to reform various aspects of the

Empire, the most important of them being its military, its administration, and its educational system in an effort to be able to face the Great Powers of in a more effective manner. In their efforts to “modernize,” the Ottomans borrowed from Europe to an extensive degree and adapted what they imported from Europe according to the Empire’s needs. Starting with the reign of Selim III (r.1789-1807), the Ottoman government also worked towards establishing permanent diplomatic contacts with the European powers and tried to be an active player in the field of European diplomacy. As a result of these increasing diplomatic contacts with the

European powers, a new (and more European) form of taltif (demonstrating appreciation) gradually took hold in the Ottoman Empire from the mid-19th century onwards: bestowal of nişans (orders) and medals as a sign of merit. This practice can be considered another form of borrowing from the established European diplomatic culture. Once it was initiated, however, the

Ottomans adapted this practice to their own needs, and it did not take long for the bestowal of orders and medals to supplant other forms of showing appreciation by various Ottoman sultans.

As a result, Ottoman orders and medals became important cultural signifiers for the Ottoman ruling, bureaucratic, and intellectual elite all over the Empire.

Based primarily on documents from the Ottoman Archives, this chapter will focus on the

Ottoman orders and will take them to be important cultural symbols while using them as an analytical tool to examine the relationship between Istanbul and the ruling and intellectual elite in Egypt. It will argue that ever since their inception in the mid-19th century, Ottoman orders were considered important signs of distinction for Egypt’s ruling and intellectual elite. Ottoman

36

governments from the mid-19th century onwards, in their efforts to maintain their authority in

Egypt, bestowed decorations on various members of the Egyptian ruling family, the bureaucrats working in the province and the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt. The ruling and intellectual elite in Egypt, for their part, appreciated the symbolic cultural value of these Ottoman orders as they actively sought them. This demonstrates the continuing presence of Ottoman cultural consciousness in Egypt while also providing evidence for the idea that, even though

Egypt was gradually becoming politically more autonomous within the Ottoman Empire, the

Egyptian ruling and intellectual elite continued to operate within the Ottoman imperial network.

The chapter will first provide a brief introduction to the history of Ottoman orders and medals, based on Edhem Eldem’s important and unique work on the topic. It will then move on sketch the theoretical framework that this chapter will be employ, arguing that symbols play a crucial role in analyzing the legitimation of authority and power politics. At the core of the chapter are two interrelated arguments. First, I argue that various Ottoman governments tried to utilize orders to maintain and bolster their symbolic presence in Egypt and vis-à-vis the ruling elite of this province. The conventional literature usually focuses on Abdülhamid’s use of various symbols to maintain his sovereignty and increase his authority, but this chapter will argue that even though this practice reached its peak during Abdülhamid II’s reign, Ottoman orders had been used as forms of symbolic authority in Egypt ever since they became popular for the ruling elites of the Empire. Second, I show how the ruling and intellectual elite of Egypt was willing to act within this cultural imperial network. The elite in Egypt considered these Ottoman orders to be very prestigious and important and actively sought to have them, demonstrating the prevalence of the Ottoman cultural consciousness in Egypt between the mid-19th and the early

20th century.

37

The History of Ottoman Nişans and Medals

Even though this chapter will focus mostly on the Ottoman orders, it is still important to define what orders and medals were and to note the difference between them. A nişan, in the context of the 19th-century Ottoman Empire, was a richly elaborate decoration, resembling a brooch and ordinarily pinned to the chest, bestowed by the sultans as a sign of appreciation to the people who served the Ottoman Empire in an exceptional way.110 A medal (madalya in Ottoman and modern-day Turkish) on the other hand, was a decoration designed to commemorate specific events and occasions; it took the form of a metal pendant hanging from a ribbon and, in contrast to the nişans, was less elaborately designed and was rarely covered with precious materials.111

Looking at the existing literature, it may be safe to put forth that the history of Ottoman orders has not been studied to a great extent. Although there are some detailed works on specific

Ottoman orders, these mostly focus on one or two specific objects and analyze them without going into too much detail about their historical context.112 In this context, Edhem Eldem’s

İftihar ve İmtiyaz: Osmanlı Nişan ve Madalyaları Tarihi remains the most comprehensive work that studies how Ottoman orders and medals came into existence and how they evolved over the

19th century.

The most distinctive feature of the Ottoman orders and medals is the fact that they came into existence as a result of the increasing diplomatic and military contacts between the Ottoman

Empire and the European powers in the early 19th century.113 For instance, the Vak’a-i Mısriyye

Madalyası (The Egyptian Event Medal), and Hilal Nişanı (The Crescent Order), also known as

110 J.M Landau, “Nishān,” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed, accessed 27 June 2018, http://referenceworks.brillonline.com.proxy.lib.ohio-state.edu/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam-2/nishan- COM_0867?s.num=0&s.f.s2_parent=s.f.cluster.Encyclopaedia+of+Islam&s.q=nishan; İbrahim Artuk, “Nişan,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi., accessed 27 June 2018, https://islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/nisan--madalya 111 Landau, “Nishān,” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed. 112 Edhem Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 8-9. 113 Ibid., 7.

38

Şems Nişanı (The Sun Order), considered the first Ottoman medal and first Ottoman order respectively, were issued in 1801 during the reign of Selim III to be bestowed upon high-ranking

British naval officers who fought alongside the Ottomans in their effort to get the French out of

Egypt and regain control of this province.114 In these early stages, the Ottomans themselves did not define the objects they gave out to Europeans as proper orders and medals as the Europeans understood them but rather, it was the Europeans who perceived these objects through the lens of their established practices and labeled them as European-style decorations.115 It is also important to note that the Ottomans did not discard their old system of rewarding merit but rather utilized these objects mostly in order to honor the foreigners who served the Empire, while the members of the Empire were honored according to the established system of appreciation. Eldem draws some parallels with the established Ottoman system of taltif (honoring), which consisted of giving out çelenks (aigrettes) made of different materials like gold and silver, attached to the headgear, and given according to a hierarchy of degrees, and the European system of decorations and medals, arguing that it was not too difficult for the Ottomans to transition from one system to the other.116

It was during the reign of Mahmud II that the practice of bestowing orders and medals as a way of showing appreciation and honoring individuals started to become an established form of taltif within the Ottoman Empire.117 After the abolition of the corps in 1826, Mahmud

II increased his reform efforts, which consisted of reshaping the Ottoman military and administration in line with Western models.118 Resurrecting and bulding on the reforms of Selim

114 Ibid., 51-52. 115 Ibid., 51. 116 Ibid. 117 Ibid. 67. 118 Şükrü Hanioğlu, A Brief History of the Late Ottoman Empire (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008), 58- 65.

39

III, this process also included adopting Western-style dress for the members of the military and the bureaucracy. In parallel with these developments, a new system of taltif based on European practices and consisting of orders with a hierarchy of classes was adopted.119 According to

Eldem, these decorations were different from their predecessors, such as the Hilal Order, in the sense that they were issued to be given out to members of the Ottoman Empire as well as to foreigners, even though their use had not yet been completely systematized.120 The first order issued during Mahmud II’s reign was called Nişan-ı İftihar (Order of Pride). Issued in 1831, this order consisted of three classes and was given to the members of the Ottoman military and administration as well as being used to honor foreigners.121 A year after the Nişan-ı İftihar,

Mahmud II took an innovative step and issued the Tasvir-i Hümayun Order, which consisted of

Sultan Mahmud II’s portrait “in miniature, on ivory, in a rectangular frame ornamented with brilliants, set among yellow and pink roses, surrounded by blue flowers.”122 In addition to these orders, a number of medals were also struck during the reign of Mahmud II, including a medal commemorating the Treaty of Hünkar İskelesi, which was signed with Russia in 1833 as a result of Russia’s aid to the Ottoman Empire in its struggle against Mehmed Ali Pasha, who had occupied Syria.123

In 1839, Abdülmecid succeeded Mahmud II and ascended to throne of the Ottoman

Empire. At the beginning of his reign, another and more prestigious order was put into use, with the name Nişan-ı İmtiyaz (Order of Privilege). Having just one class, it was again utilized to honor individuals, who had rendered exceptional service to the Ottoman Empire. Judging by the

119 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 82. 120 Ibid., 82. 121 Ibid., 112-115. 122 Landau, “Nishān,” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed. 123 Ibid., 138.

40

evidence available, it may be claimed that this decoration was reserved specifically for the higher echelons of the Ottoman military and bureaucracy.124

The most significant order to be issued during Abdülmecid’s reign, however, was the

Mecidi Order. This decoration can be considered the first “proper” Ottoman order, designed and utilized along the lines of the established European practice and was put into use in 1852. The most important feature of this order, and what made it comparable to its European counterparts, was the fact that it was issued with a detailed nizamname, or a set of regulations, that determined its design, its terms of bestowal, and its use in extensive detail.125 Consisting of five classes, the

Mecidi Order was bestowed upon both the members of the Ottoman military, bureaucracy and intelligentsia, and foreigners who were of service to the Empire. While the Mecidi orders that were given out to the foreigners did not have a specific quota, the ones that were bestowed upon the Ottomans were limited to fifty for the first class, 150 for the second class, 800 for the third class, 3000 for the fourth class and 6000 for the fifth class.126

Shortly after Abdülaziz came to the throne, he issued a decree (irade) in 1861 for the creation of a new type of order, named the Osmani Order, which took the place of the Mecidi

Order as the most prestigious order of the Empire. Initially, it was planned for the Osmani Order to have three classes but later on another class was added to it and its nizamname was very similar to the Mecidi Order. Once again, while the number of Osmani orders that could be bestowed upon foreigners was not subject to any quota, those given out to the Ottomans were limited to 50 for the first class, 200 for the second class, 1000 for the third class, and later on,

2000 for the fourth class.127 Besides representing the further institutionalization of bestowing

124 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 133, Landau, “Nishān,” in Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed. 125 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 176. 126 Landau, “Nishān,” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed.; Artuk, “Nişan,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi. 127 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 216.

41

orders as a way of honoring individuals in the Ottoman Empire, the Osmani Order had another important significance. According to Eldem, naming the order “Osmani,” which referred to both the name of the Empire and its founder Osman, as well as inscribing the date “699” (1299-1300 of the Common Era), which indicated the date of the Ottoman Empire’s foundation, can be taken as a symbolic representation of the “Ottomanism” ideology. This was especially true when this order was given out to the Ottomans and was meant for “consumption” within the Empire.128

Moreover, the Osmani Order was also a form of historical legitimation that the Ottoman Empire was asserting vis-à-vis the European powers, emphasizing the long history of the and the Empire at a time when the European powers were utilizing historical claims to legitimize their own national identities.129

Abdülhamid II’s reign witnessed the “” of Ottoman orders and medals since he utilized these objects to a great extent as a part of his style of rule both in his diplomatic relations with foreign powers and in his efforts to legitimize his own rule within the Empire. Initially,

Abdülhamid II chose to keep the hierarchy of the Mecidi and Osmani Orders and did not issue an order of his own to surpass them. Instead, he gave orders for the creation of a new decoration to be bestowed upon women, called the Şefkat Nişanı (Order of Compassion).130 According to its nizamname, this order, which was created in 1878, was meant to be given out to Ottoman and foreign women who were of help to the Ottoman Empire during times of war and other types of disasters, such as earthquakes and floods.131 Soon, however, this decoration went beyond its original purpose, since Abdülhamid II used it as a foreign policy tool and gave it to various

European queens and princesses in his efforts to cultivate good relations and construct a positive

128 Ibid., 219-221. 129 Ibid., 222. 130 Ibid., 258-260. 131 Landau, “Nishān,” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed.

42

image of the Ottoman Empire in Europe.132 Only three months after the issuing of the Şefkat

Order, Abdülhamid II ordered the creation of another decoration, called Nişan-ı Ali-i İmtiyaz, which consisted of only one class and which surpassed the Mecidi and Osmani orders to become the most prestigious imperial decoration in the Ottoman Empire.133 Once again, Abdülhamid II utilized this order in his diplomatic relations with European rulers.134 Its use among members of the Ottoman military, bureaucracy and intelligentsia was also highly selective, indicating how valuable this decoration was deemed to be.135 Finally, the third significant order that was issued during Abdülhamid II’s reign was the Hanedan-ı Al-i Osman Nişanı (Order of Ottoman

Dynasty), which was issued in 1893 and which was created for the members of the Ottoman family,136 even though it is known that Abdülhamid bestowed it upon individuals outside the

Ottoman dynasty, such as Khedive Abbas Hilmi Pasha of Egypt and German Kaiser Wilhelm II, as well.137

Abdülhamid II also made extensive use of medals, which were struck for numerous occasions and purposes during this period. For instance, he created the İmtiyaz (Privilege), İftihar

(Pride), and Liyakat (Merit) medals to honor individuals who showed “loyalty and courage” in their service to the Ottoman Empire. To be more precise, Abdülhamid II utilized these medals as a way of strengthening his personal rule.138 Moreover, medals were struck to commemorate specific events, such as the Yunan Muharebesi Madalyası (Ottoman-Greek War Medal), which was created in 1897 to celebrate the Ottoman victory against in the Ottoman-Greek War, as well as to enhance the Sultan’s image and increase feelings of “Ottomannness” within

132 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 264-265. 133 Ibid., 272. 134 Ibid., 277. 135 Ibid., 277-278. 136 Ibid., 348. 137 Ibid., 352. 138 Ibid., 289-290.

43

Ottoman society.139 Finally, Abdülhamid II utilized medals as a way to finance specific projects.

For instance, while the Hejaz Railroad was being constructed, a “Hicaz Demiryolu Madalyası”

(Hejaz Railroad Medal) was issued, which was given to individuals who donated money to the project.140

During the reign of (r.1909-1918) and the , three new orders were planned even though only one of them was actually issued. This was the Maarif Nişanı

(Order of Education), which consisted of three classes and which was issued in 1910 to be given out to individuals, both Ottoman and foreign, who served the Empire in matters of education, culture and arts.141 At the same time, the use of medals as a way of commemorating specific events and displaying appreciation for individuals continued in this period. Among these medals,

Kanun-i Esasi Madalyası, (Ottoman Constitution Medal), which was struck in 1909 to commemorate the reinstitution of the Ottoman constitution,142 Hilal-ı Ahmer Madalyası (Red

Crescent Medal), which was produced in 1912 to be given out to individuals who helped the

Ottoman Red Crescent during the Balkan Wars,143 and the Harb Madalyası, (War Medal) bestowed upon individuals during World War I,144 deserve special mention.

What this short history of the Ottoman orders and medals demonstrates is the fact that, especially from the mid-19th century onwards, as the Ottoman Empire came into increasing military and diplomatic contact with the European powers, giving out orders and medals gradually became the new way of honoring individuals who served the Empire. Moreover, and more important for this chapter, these orders and medals started to assume a new type of

139 Ibid., 307-308. 140 Ibid., 320-321. 141 Ibid., 385. 142 Ibid., 379-381. 143 Ibid., 402. 144 Ibid., 424-427.

44

significance, becoming cultural symbols that were used for political reasons. Therefore, this chapter will focus on how the Ottoman orders could be utilized as tools to analyze the relationship between Istanbul and the ruling and intellectual elite in Egypt between 1841 and

1909. Before going into the details of the arguments, however, a theoretical framework for analysis should be given.

Importance of Cultural Symbols as Analytical Tools: A Theoretical Framework

One idea that will provide a blueprint for this chapter is the concept of “invented tradition,” which was coined by the British historian Eric Hobsbawn in a collection of essays that was originally published in 1983. In his introduction to the volume, Hobsbawn defines “invented tradition” as “a set of practices, normally governed by overtly or tacitly accepted rules and of a ritual or symbolic nature, which seek to inculcate certain values and norms of behavior by repetition, which implies continuity with the past. In fact, where possible, they normally attempt to establish continuity with a suitable historic past.”145 Hobsbawn emphasizes the fact that

“invention of traditions” usually takes place when societies are going through major transformations that “weaken or destroy” social norms, and argues that the traditions that are being invented to cater to the needs of these transformations can be based on the “old” ones while being adapted to fit the new demands of the society.146 Hobsbawn identifies three types of invented traditions, the first being “those establishing or symbolizing social cohesion or the membership of groups, real or artificial communities,” the second being “those establishing or legitimizing institutions, status or relations of authority,” and the final one being “those whose main purpose was socialization, the inculcation of beliefs, value systems and conventions of

145 Eric Hobsbawn, “Introduction: Inventing Traditions,” in The Invention of Tradition, eds. Eric Hobsbawn and Terence Ranger (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 1. 146 Ibid., 4-6.

45

behavior.”147 Looking at the history of the Ottoman orders through this lens suggest that the practice of bestowing orders was a form of an invention of a tradition to replace earlier forms of honoring individuals in the Ottoman Empire. As was discussed, the orders came into existence at a time when the Ottoman Empire was going through transformative reforms in the 19th century; they were based on more traditional forms of taltif even though they were adopted from

European sets of practices, and most importantly for this study they were forms of legitimizing the status of institutions as well as regulating the relationships between groups.

Combined with the idea of “invented tradition” the other part of the theoretical framework on which this chapter is going to be based is the importance of symbols and symbolism in analyzing political action and the power dynamics between political actors. Social anthropologist Abner Cohen defines symbols as “objects, acts, relationships, or linguistic formations that stand ambiguously for a multiplicity of meanings, evoke emotions, and impel men to action. They usually occur in stylized patterns of activities, such as ritual, ceremonial, gift exchange, prescribed patterns of joking, taking an oath, eating and drinking together, acts of etiquette, and various culture traits that constitute the style of life of a group.”148 Symbols, it is argued, help people understand as well as create reality and give them a way to understand their position vis-à-vis other people. This is especially true for any type of political reality and power dynamics. David Kertzer puts forth that any type of politics is articulated through the means of symbolism, adding that “To understand the political process, then, it is necessary to understand how the symbolic enters into politics, how political actors consciously and unconsciously manipulate symbols, and how this symbolic dimension relates to the material bases of political

147 Ibid., 9. 148 Abner Cohen, Two-Dimensional Man: An Essay on the Anthropology of Power and Symbolism in Complex Society (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1976), 23-24.

46

power.”149 It is mainly through symbols that the powerful assert their authority and legitimacy, while the weaker actors in the equation can also challenge the status quo by manipulating the same symbols in order to delegitimize the authority of the powerful.150 Therefore, Kertzer argues that “Creating a symbol or, more commonly, identifying oneself with a popular symbol can be a potent means of gaining and keeping power, for the hallmark of power is the construction of reality.”151 Analyzed through this lens, the Ottoman orders, which became important cultural symbols from the mid-19th century onwards, provide a useful tool to understand the dynamics between Istanbul and the Ottoman-Egyptian elite in Cairo. This framework also enables us to understand how both the Ottoman governments and the ruling elite in Egypt utilized and manipulated these Ottoman cultural symbols in order to pursue their own interests in various historical contexts.

It is safe to put forth that the significance of cultural symbols as analytical tools has been understudied in the historiography of the late Ottoman Empire. One of the most important examples of this type of work is Selim Deringil’s The Well-Protected Domains: Ideology and the

Legitimation of Power in the Ottoman Empire, 1876-1909. In it, Deringil focuses on how

Abdülhamid II utilized various symbols and symbolism to “manage” his own myth and to ensure his legitimacy in the eyes of the Ottoman population.152 More specifically, and related to this chapter’s theme, Deringil also analyzes how Abdülhamid II utilized orders and medals for his own benefit, arguing that “decorations were a manifestation of the integrative symbolic code” that Abdülhamid II was trying to manage.153 In his work, Eldem also points out Abdülhamid’s

149 David Kertzer, Ritual, Politics, and Power (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988), 3. 150 Kertzer, Ritual, Politics and Power, 5, Clifford Geertz, “Centers, Kings and Charisma: Reflections on the Symbolics of Power” in Culture and its Creators: Essays in Honor of E. Shils, eds. Joseph Ben-David and Terry N. Clark (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977), 168. 151 Kertzer, Ritual, Politics and Power, 5. 152 Deringil, The Well Protected Domains, 18-19. 153 Ibid., 35.

47

use of decorations and emphasizes the fact that Abdülhamid was very conscious of the symbolic meaning of the orders and medals he was giving out and was utilizing them for political purposes.154 In another work, Deringil again argues that in order to fight against the centrifugal forces in the society and bolster its ideology of “Ottomanism,” which aimed at creating an inclusive form of “Ottoman citizenry,” Ottoman rulers turned towards “invented traditions” and symbols such as Ottoman heraldry and decorations to bolster their legitimacy.155

Even though these works provide a general idea of how cultural symbols played an important role in the conduct of politics in the late 19th century Ottoman Empire, they do not go into too much detail on how this “politics of symbolism” actually played out in the provinces.

With regards to Egypt, Oded Peri makes a good attempt in this direction when he analyzes the symbolic role of Gazi Muhtar Pasha, who became the Ottoman Commissioner in Egypt after

Britain occupied this province in 1882. Peri argues that “Muhtar was a symbol in British- occupied Egypt, a prominent living symbol of Ottoman power, legitimacy, and sovereignty,” adding that Muhtar provided a focal point for the Ottomanism that was ascendant in Egypt after the British occupation of 1882.156 Peri emphasizes the importance of symbols in power politics157 and framing his discussion this way, he then demonstrates how, in addition to Gazi Muhtar

Pasha’s active involvement in the political affairs of Egypt to maintain the Sultan’s sovereignty over the province, his mere presence in Cairo became the most important symbol of Ottoman sovereignty and legitimacy in Egypt.158 This chapter will follow Peri’s lead and address the

154 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 344-348. 155 Selim Deringil, “Invention of Tradition as Public Image In the Late Ottoman Empire, 1808 to 1908,” Comparative Studies in Society and History, 35, no.1 (Jan 1993): 4-6. 156 Oded Peri, “Ottoman Symbolism in British-Occupied Egypt, 1882-1909,” Middle Eastern Studies, 41, no.1 (Jan 2005): 104. 157 Ibid., 104. 158 Ibid., 109.

48

existing gap in the literature by analyzing the relationship between the elites in Istanbul and

Cairo through the lens of Ottoman nişans.

Ottoman Orders in Egypt: Early Beginnings

The overarching argument that will be presented in the rest of this chapter is that ever since the Ottoman orders became an important way to honor individuals in the second half of the

19th century, various Ottoman governments bestowed these objects on the ruling elite in Egypt, especially to the members of Mehmed Ali Pasha’s family, as a way of maintaining the Ottoman

Empire’s cultural presence in this province and keeping the Ottoman-Egyptian ruling elite within the Ottoman imperial network, while also (re)asserting the Ottoman Empire’s legitimacy and sovereignty over the Egyptian province. In connection with this first part of the argument, I will also demonstrate how the Ottoman-Egyptian elite in Egypt were very much aware of the cultural importance of these Ottoman decorations and actively demanded to obtain them from Istanbul and how these objects became the main way of honoring individuals for the Egyptian governors

(and later “khedives”) as well.

Numerous archival documents from the Prime Ministry Ottoman Archives in Istanbul indicate that the ruling elite in Istanbul paid particular attention to bestowing Ottoman decorations on the members of the ruling family in Egypt, even at the early stages when these decorations were just starting to take hold as a way of honoring individuals who were of service to the Empire. One of the earliest examples of these bestowals took place in 1854 during the reign of Sultan Abdülmecid, when Egyptian governor Said Pasha, along with the Tunisian governor Ahmed Pasha, received what the document first describes simply as birinci rütbeden birer kıta nişan-ı ali (an order in the first class for each).159 In two other documents that are related to this bestowal, it is stated that both Said Pasha and Ahmed Pasha were awarded the

159 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 1/48, 19 Za 1270/ 13 August 1854.

49

Mecidi Order in the first class, which was the highest form of decoration in the Ottoman Empire at the time.160 Moreover, in a missive dated 9 January 1855 that Said Pasha sent to Istanbul, he thanked the Sultan for granting him an İftihar Order after the Ottoman Empire’s victory in

Silistre during the Crimean War.161 Eldem points out that the Iftihar Order was used to honor the individuals who were of service to the Empire during the Crimean War.162 More interestingly, in the same document, Said Pasha thanked the Sultan also for sending his sister a murassa tasvir-i hümayun or a bejeweled portrait of the Sultan.163 In fact, Said Pasha’s sister Zeyneb sent a reply to the Sultan herself, written in a flowery language, expressing her gratitude to the Sultan for sending her his portrait.164 Two years later, Sultan Abdülmecid bestowed another order, this time to Tosun Pasha, the son of Said Pasha, while also promoting him to the rank of or (Mısır Valisi fehametlü devletlü paşa hazretlerinin mahdumu Tosun Beg’in uhdesine feriklik rütbesi tevcihi ve mir-i müşarileyhe ihsan-ı hümayun buyurılan üçüncü rütbe nişan-ı zişanıyla berat-ı alisinin takdimi hususları…) The document only states a third class order but does not specify exactly what type of decoration was being bestowed. Considering the time period, however, it is safe to assume that it was also a Mecidi Order, similar to the one that had been given to Said Pasha two years earlier. Another important point to note here is that Tosun

Pasha’s was also being increased, which would assert his position within the ranks of the Ottoman military and the fact that he was a part of the Ottoman ruling elite.

The above-mentioned examples demonstrate the fact that even at these early stages of

Ottoman decorations the ruling elite in Istanbul had already started to utilize these objects in order to assert their legitimacy over the ruling elite in Egypt. It is also important to emphasize,

160 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 1/46, 26 Za 1270/ 20 August 1854, BOA, A.DVN 98/ 4, 5 Z 1270/ 29 August 1854. 161 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 2/62, 19 R 1271/ 9 January 1855. 162 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 202. 163 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 2/62, 19 R 1271/ 9 January 1855. 164 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 2/60 , 27 R 1271/ 17 January 1855.

50

however, that during this time period, the sending of Ottoman decorations to Egypt did not depend simply on the initiative of the Ottoman sultan and the government, which is an important point to consider. On the contrary, the Egyptian governors were aware of the cultural significance of these objects, as can be seen above, and wanted to acquire them from the Istanbul government both for themselves and the members of their families, demonstrating the prestige that these objects had for the ruling elite of Egypt, while also showing that the Ottoman-Egyptian elite willingly operated within the Ottoman cultural network. Even Said Pasha, who is described in the historiography as having more of an “independent streak” than the previous governor

Abbas Pasha, who was known to be more conciliatory toward the imperial government,165 sought the Ottoman decorations for his family. For instance, in a document dated 9 Receb 1277/ 21

January 1861, Said Pasha asked Sultan Abdülmecid to increase the classes of the Mecidi orders that his sons Ismail, Mustafa Fazıl and Abdülhalim Pashas already had. Even though, his sons

Ismail, Mustafa Fazıl and Abdülhalim already had Mecidi decorations, second class, Said Pasha asked the Sultan to increase their classes to the highest form that the Mecidi Order offered at the moment.166 The rest of the document makes it clear that Said Pasha’s request was granted and his sons received a first class Mecidi Order.167

The Reign of Ismail Pasha--Ottoman Orders Become the Established Practice

Ismail Pasha succeeded Said Pasha as the governor of Egypt on 18 January 1863. He had grand plans both for himself and for Egypt and he worked towards increasing the autonomy of

Egypt from the Ottoman Empire.168 What is important for this chapter’s purposes, however, is to emphasize that during his reign the Ottoman decorations firmly established their status as

165 Marsot, A History of Egypt, 82-83; Toledano, State and Society, 7-8. 166 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 2/81, 9 B 1277/ 21 January 1861. 167 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 2/81, 4 Ş 1277/ 15 Şubat 1861. 168 Marsot, A History of Egypt, 81-82.

51

prestigious cultural symbols and became one of the most important ways of honoring the ruling elite in Egypt at the time. Once again, this fact is important in underlining the prevalence of the

Ottoman cultural consciousness in Egypt, even during the reign of Ismail Pasha, who was trying to gain more autonomy and distinction from Istanbul, as compared to other Ottoman governors.

When Ismail Pasha assumed the governorship of Egypt, Sultan Abdülaziz, who succeeded Sultan Abdülmecid in 1861, once again utilized Ottoman decorations as the preferred method to honor the new governor. An irade (decree), dated 13 Şaban 1279 / 3 February 1863, indicates that as a result of Ismail Pasha being granted the governorship of Egypt, he was going to be awarded a bejeweled Osmani Order, first class, as well as a bejeweled sword.169 As was stated above, when Abdülaziz became the sultan, he established the Osmani Order in 1861, and it became the most prestigious Ottoman decoration at the time. Therefore, it is not surprising that

Ismail Pasha was honored with this highly prestigious order when he became the governor of

Egypt. The symbolic meaning of the Osmani Order was also important in this case. As Eldem puts forth, the Osmani Order was designed and named as a way to propagate the “Ottomanism ideology” that was prevalent in the Empire at the time.170 Hence, it may be argued that the fact that Sultan Abdülaziz chose to honor Ismail Pasha with the Osmani Order when he became the governor of Egypt also had the symbolic intention of binding him more closely to the imperial structure of the Ottoman Empire.

In 1866, after a series of negotiations, Ismail Pasha struck a deal with Sultan Abdülaziz, as a result of which the order of succession for the governorship of Egypt was changed to primogeniture, meaning that from that point onwards the governors of Egypt would be from the male descendants of Ismail Pasha. Moreover, one year later in 1867 Ismail Pasha received the

169 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 2/87, 13 Ş 1279/ 3 February 1863. 170 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 219-221.

52

title of “Khedive,” which confirmed his special position within the Ottoman Empire.171 As a part of this agreement, Ismail Pasha was also granted permission to bestow Ottoman decorations upon individuals whom he deemed to have deserved them.172 This does not mean, however, that

Sultan Abdülaziz gave up his right to bestow these decorations. In fact, it was made clear that the berats (warrants) for these decorations were to be issued by the Ottoman sultan. This situation deserves emphasis for two main reasons. First, it demonstrates that the Istanbul government was still sovereign over Egypt and was strictly aware of the symbolic meaning of bestowing these decorations and medals and continued to utilize them as a way of reasserting their authority over

Egypt and the Egyptian ruling elite. Even though Ismail Pasha and the future khedives of Egypt were granted permission to distribute decorations on their own initiative, as will be seen, it was the Ottoman sultan who approved of these bestowals. In addition, this situation demonstrates that even though Ismail Pasha, as the Khedive of Egypt, made efforts to make Egypt more autonomous from Istanbul, he willingly utilized the Ottoman decorations and medals, which were considered to be prestigious cultural symbols at the time, as a way to honor the members of the Ottoman-Egyptian elite in the province. Adam Mestyan makes an important point by arguing that contrary to what the established scholarship claims, Ismail Pasha utilized “being Ottoman” as his political strategy vis-à-vis the local elite in Egypt, specifically emphasizing Sultan

Abdülaziz’s support for him.173 Seen in this light this willingness on Ismail Pasha’s part to utilize the Ottoman decorations in Egypt demonstrates the fact that Ottoman cultural consciousness continued to be an important part of the Ottoman-Egyptian ruling elite’s mentality and that they were operating within the imperial cultural network.

171 Mestyan, Arab Patriotism, 50-51, 61-67; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, 86. 172 Landau, “Nishān,” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd ed. 173 Mestyan, Arab Patriotism, 51.

53

Documents from the Ottoman archives indicate how the process of distribution of

Ottoman decorations worked in Egypt. The Khedive himself determined to whom the Ottoman decorations were issued. For this purpose, he wrote to Istanbul, asking for different orders and their berats (warrants). These berats, however, did not always specify when or to whom these orders were going to be given, which gave the Khedive the opportunity to utilize them when he needed to. Examples from different points of Ismail Pasha’s career as the Khedive of Egypt suffice to demonstrate this point. For instance, in a request submitted to the Sultan, the Khedive of Egypt asks the Sultan for a third-class Osmani decoration to be sent to Egypt, together with its berat with the place for the recipient’s name blank (“Isim mahalli açık olmak üzere Nişan-ı Ali-yi

Osmaninin üçüncü rütbesinden bir kıtasının beratı ile beraber ihsan buyurulması fehametlü devletlü hidiv-i Mısır hazretleri tarafından iltimas olunduguna dair.,,”).174 Shortly thereafter, the

Khedive’s kapu kethüda (official representative in Istanbul) Kamil Bey submitted another request, this time asking for Mecidi orders in the amount of four in the first class, five each in the second and third classes, and six in the fourth class, for a grand total of twenty, with their berats with the place of the recipients’s name empty. These orders were to be granted to “some individuals” whom the Khedive wanted to honor. (“Bazı zevata ita kılınmak ve beratlarındaki isim mahalleri açık olmak üzere Mecidi nişan-ı zişanın birinci rütbesinden dört ve ikinciden beş ve üçüncüden dahi beş ve dördüncüden altı ki camian yirmi kıta nişanın istihsali…”). Ismail

Pasha himself also submitted requests for Ottoman decorations to be sent to Egypt to be given to individuals who deserve them. For instance, in a request submitted on 19 Rabiulahir 1287/ 19

July 1870 Ismail first gave a list of the Osmani and Mecidi orders that he was asking for, after which he stated that he was asking for berats with the places for the names empty for a total number of a hundred Osmani and Mecidi orders in different classes to be given out to individuals

174 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 3/174, 3 M 1286/ 15 April 1869.

54

when he saw fit.175 Ismail Pasha submitted a similar request on 12 Safer 1293/ 9 March 1876, asking for the berats of three first class Mecidi orders and twenty-five third class Mecidi orders to be given out to individuals who deserved them (“erbab-ı liyakat ve istihkaka ita olunmak

üzere birinciden üç ve üçüncüden yirmi beş kıta Mecidi nişan-ı zişanı içün iltimas olunan yirmi sekiz kıta berat-ı alinin…”).176 The phrases “erbab-ı liyakat” and “erbab-ı istihkak,” which are very common in the requests of Ottoman decorations coming from Egypt, can be translated as

“individuals who merit or who deserve rewards. In a different example, it is mentioned that even though thirteen Mecidi decorations from the second class, ten Mecidi from the third class and six

Mecidi from the fourth class already arrived in Egypt, their berats were missing and the document requests that berats with the places for the recipient name and date left empty, to be sent to Egypt.177 Taken collectively, these requests and the sheer amount of Ottoman decorations requested from Egypt indicate how decorations became one of the established ways to honor the ruling elite in Egypt during the reign of Ismail Pasha.

Ismail Pasha was not only requesting orders from Istanbul in a collective manner, to be distributed to individuals whom he saw fit when need arose, but he also sent requests for

Ottoman decorations to be bestowed upon specific individuals from his own family and from the high echelons of the ruling elite in Egypt. On 12 Cemaziyelevvel 1290/8 July 1873, Ismail

Pasha’s kapu kethüda in Istanbul sent a list that contained the names of the individuals who had been awarded Osmani and Mecidi orders. The list asks for murassa Nişan-ı Osmani” (“an

Osmani Order set with jewels”) to be given to Ismail Pasha’s sons-in-law Mansur Pasha, Ibrahim

Pasha, and Tosun Pasha, as well as his son Ibrahim Pasha. Moreover, members of the ruling elite in Egypt such as Nubar Pasha, who served in various posts under Ismail and who was the

175 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 3/185, 29 R 1287/ 29 July 1870. 176 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 4/229, 29 C 1293/ 22 July 1876. 177 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 4/210, 29 Z 1290/ 17 February 1874.

55

Director of the Department of Foreign Affairs at the time,178 were also listed recipients “Birinci

Osmani Nişanı,” meaning a first class Osmani Order.179

A more important and revealing example involves two requests sent to Istanbul from

Cairo. In 1867, Ismail Pasha traveled to France in order to attend the Paris Exhibition.180 Two documents in the Ottoman archives indicate that during this visit, Ismail Pasha utilized Ottoman orders as a way to honor individuals and to cultivate favorable relationships with the members of foreign governments. The first request, sent to Istanbul again by Ismail Pasha’s kapukethüda

Kamil Bey on 7 Cemaziyelevvel 1284/ 6 September 1867, has three main parts. The first part includes the and names of the individuals upon whom Ismail Pasha bestowed an order in

Paris, as well as the type of decoration each individual received. From this list, it is understood that the highest form of Ottoman order bestowed in Paris by Ismail Pasha was a second class

Osmani Order, whereas the lowest form was a fifth class Mecidi Order. The total number of decorations that were given out in Paris was twenty. The second request is related to the time

Ismail Pasha visited the French city of Vichy. This part indicates that in Vichy, four third- class

Mecidi, six fourth-class Mecidi, and four fifth-class Mecidi orders were given to various individuals. Right below these two lists, the document states that the above-mentioned nişans, given in Paris and Vichy, for a grand total of thirty-four, have already been bought in Paris and bestowed whereas their berats are missing. The third list in the document, on the other hand, includes the orders that have been promised to various individuals but have not been given yet.

178 Hunter, Egypt Under the Khedives, 167. 179 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 4/212, 11 Ca 1290/ 7 July 1873. 180 Mona L. Russell, Creating the New Egyptian Woman: Consumerism, Education, and National Identity, 1863- 1922 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004), 21.

56

Therefore, the document requests that these medals, together with their berats, to be sent to

Ismail Pasha.181

The second document in question is also related to Ismail Pasha’s trip to Europe and the decorations he bestowed there on various individuals. On 11 Muharrem 1285/4 May 1868 Ismail

Pasha himself submitted a list of Mecidi orders that he had bestowed upon various people during his European visit, stating that even though he had given out these orders during his trip to

Europe the previous year, he had not received the berats for them yet and asked the Sultan to issue and send the necessary berats to him.182 The rest of the document demonstrates that Ismail

Pasha’s request was granted on 28 Muharrem 1285/ 21 May 1868.183

The examples mentioned above are important for a variety of reasons. In the conventional scholarship, Ismail Pasha is usually portrayed as charting a more autonomous path from Istanbul, both for himself and for Egypt. The fact that he seems to have more autonomy than the previous

Egyptian governors in the distribution of Ottoman decorations also seems to support this idea.

Nevertheless, it is also important to emphasize that Ismail Pasha was still operating within the juridical and cultural network of the Empire. As was shown, there was a great deal of demand for

Ottoman decorations coming from Egypt during the reign of Ismail Pasha. It is obvious that in his reign, bestowing these decorations became one of the most prestigious methods for honoring individuals from both his own family and the ruling elite in Egypt, as was the case with the court in Istanbul. More importantly, when he was visiting Europe and presumably acting more like a sovereign than like a simple governor of the Ottoman Empire, Ismail Pasha was still acting within the cultural network of the Empire since the decorations that he was bestowing on individuals whom he came across were symbolic products of the Ottoman cultural milieu.

181 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 3/142, 23 Ca 1284/ 22 September 1867. 182 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 3/152, 11 M 1285/ 4 May 1868. 183 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 3/152, 28 M 1285/ 21 May 1868.

57

The “Golden Age” of Ottoman Orders in Egypt

Abdülhamid II came to the Ottoman throne on in 1876 and, as was mentioned above, he utilized the Ottoman orders and medals for a variety of purposes, including extending his personal rule, asserting his legitimacy and sovereignty, and improving diplomatic relationships with foreign, and mostly European, powers. During his reign, which spanned the last years of

Ismail Pasha and the khedivates of Tevfik and Abbas Hilmi Pasha, Ottoman decorations continued to maintain their status as one of the most prestigious ways of honoring various individuals in Egypt. It must be emphasized, however, that Abdülhamid also took more control of the process, utilizing these objects as a way to maintain his sovereignty and the cultural presence of the Ottoman Empire in Egypt. While he continued to pay special attention to the members of the Mehmed Ali dynasty, he also tried to “co-opt” the intellectual elite of Egypt as well as the female members of the ruling elite by granting them numerous Ottoman orders.

Therefore, it may not be far-fetched to argue that the Ottoman decorations witnessed their

“golden age” in Egypt during the reign of Abdülhamid II.

Ismail Pasha’s reign as the khedive of Egypt came to a troubled end as a result of the severe financial crisis that Egypt we through in the 1870s. This crisis resulted in increasing

European control of Egyptian finances and bureaucracy, leading to the deposition of Ismail

Pasha by Abdülhamid II in 1879. As the khedive of Egypt, Ismail Pasha was ambitious and determined in his plans to modernize Egypt. To this end, he improved the irrigation networks in the province, expanded the railroads and the telegraph networks and undertook grandiose projects such as the completion of the Suez Canal, whose construction began during the reign of

Said Pasha.184 In order to be able to finance these efforts to modernize Egypt, Ismail Pasha accelerated the process of taking out loans from European credit markets. By 1875, however, it

184 Hunter, “Egypt Under the Successors of Muhammad ‘Ali,” 186-189.

58

became obvious that Egypt was in no position to pay off the interest on its debt and was in a state of near-bankruptcy, which led to the establishment of the Caisse de la Dette Publique (Public

Debt Commission) in 1876. This institution was in complete control of Egypt’s finances and consisted of representatives from , France, Austria and Italy, which were the countries that were the main bondholders. In addition to the Caisse de la Dette Publique, England and

France put political pressure on Khedive Ismail through what became known as the “Dual

Control.” As a result of intense pressure by these two European countries, Ismail Pasha was forced to give up the reins of the Egyptian government. The European controllers soon realized, however, that Egypt’s revenues were not sufficient to pay off the European debt, leading them to devise harsher economic policies, which drew the ire of many segments of the population including high-ranking officials and landowners, who supported Ismail. In 1879, betting on this widespread discontent that existed in Egypt against increasing European control, Ismail Pasha went to the European representatives with a new plan, which proposed to lower the rate of interest on Egypt’s debt. The European representatives, however, did not accept Ismail Pasha’s plan, and started to pressure Sultan Abdülhamid II to dismiss Ismail and replace him with his son

Tevfik. Abdülhamid II was forced to comply with the European demands as he deposed Ismail

Pasha and appointed Tevfik Pasha as the new khedive of Egypt in 1879.185 Tevfik Pasha’s reign witnessed the Urabi Revolution,186 which led to the British occupation of Egypt in 1882, after which British control over Egypt increased to a great extent. As the khedive, Tevfik Pasha was mostly under the influence of Sir Evelyn Baring (later Lord Cromer), who acted as “Her

Majesty’s Agent and Consul-General” after the occupation in 1882.187

185 Hunter, Egypt Under the Khedives, 180-189, 200-226. 186 For a detailed account of the ‘Urabi Revolution, see Cole, Colonialism and Revolution. 187 Marsot, A History of Egypt, 88-90.

59

When Tevfik Pasha succeeded his father as the khedive of Egypt, Abdülhamid II bestowed an İmtiyaz Order on the new khedive on 1 Muharrem 1303/10 October 1885.188 It is important to note that it was on Sultan Abdülhamid’s initiative that this decoration was sent to

Tevfik Pasha and that the bestowal did not take place as a result of a request coming from Egypt.

In fact, in another document with the same date, Sultan Abdülhamid addressed Tevfik Pasha personally, letting him know that he had been awarded the “Nişan-ı İmtiyaz.” After acknowledging the receipt of a telegram sent by the Khedive, sending good wishes to the Sultan for the New Year, Abdülhamid informed Tevfik Pasha that he had awarded the khedive the

İmtiyaz Order, which he described as the highest form of decoration in the Empire (“Devlet-i

Aliyemizin en büyük nişanı olub"), in honor of the New Year.189 In his reply to the Sultan, dated

21 Safer 1303/ 29 November 1885, Tevfik Pasha informed him that he had received the decoration sent by the Sultan and offered his gratitude for bestowing him with such an honor.190

This exchange was in line with the general pattern concerning the flow of orders to Egypt since

Abdülhamid took more control of the process even though requests coming from Egypt for

Ottoman decorations were still continuing. It must also be emphasized that this was not the first

Ottoman decoration that Tevfik Pasha had received. During his reign, Ismail Pasha sent a request to Istanbul, asking for a berat to be issued for a first class Mecidi Order that he had bestowed upon his son Tevfik Pasha.191 This request has been granted and the berat was sent to Egypt.192

In two photographs from the Princess Moneim Saviç collection that were published by

188 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 4/256, 1 M 1303/ 10 October 1885. 189 BOA, Y.PRK.BŞK 10/16, 1 M 1303/ 10 October 1885. 190 BOA, Y.PRK.BŞK 10/16, 21 S 1303/ 29 November 1885. 191 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 3/197, 10 Ca 1289/ 16 July 1872, BOA I.MTZ (05).TAL 3/198, 13 Ca 1289/ 19 July 1872. 192 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 3/198, 13 Ca 1289/ 19 July 1872.

60

Emine Fuat Tugay in her memoirs, Tevfik Pasha is seen wearing his Ottoman decorations, which demonstrates his willingness to play his role within the Ottoman cultural environment.193

The archival documents suggest that during Tevfik Pasha’s reign, Ottoman decorations continued to be one of the most important instruments of honoring individuals in Egypt. As mentioned above, requests for berats of the Ottoman decorations that the khedive had given out continued during the reign of Tevfik Pasha. For instance, in a request dated 23 Rabiulevvel 1300/

1 February 1883, Tevfik Pasha asked for the berats of 83 Osmani and 159 Mecidi decorations in various classes from Istanbul “to be bestowed upon individuals with merit, who deserve them”

(“erbab-ı istihkaka ve ehliyete ita olunmak üzere”).194 Tevfik Pasha submitted similar requests to

Istanbul on 15 Rabiulahir 1301/ 21 January 1884195 and 23 Şaban 1304/ 17 May 1887.196

After Tevfik Pasha passed away, his son Abbas Hilmi succeeded him as the new khedive of Egypt in January 1892. Abbas Hilmi was eighteen and studying at the Theresianum in when he learned of his father’s death. He immediately set out for Egypt and was appointed as the new khedive by Sultan Abdülhamid. As a young and inexperienced ruler, Abbas Hilmi clashed with the representatives of the British occupation since he wanted to reassert the khedive’s position as a powerful figure and to break free of the influence of the British “advisors,” who were more or less in total control of the Egyptian government, especially during the reign of

Tevfik Pasha.197 Even though he could not break the British control over the Egyptian government, Abbas Hilmi was known to be supportive of the nationalist movement, leading him

193 Emine Fuat Tugay, Bir Aile Üç Asır, trans. Şeniz Türkömer (İstanbul: İş Bankası Kültür Yayınları, 2015), 246, 251. 194 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 4/245, 05 R 1300/ 1 February 1883. 195 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 4/251, 23 R 1301/ 21 February 1884. 196 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 4/261, 17 N 1304/ 9 June 1887. 197 Ziad Fahmy, Ordinary Egyptians: Creating the Modern Nation through Popular Culture (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2011), 64-68, 100; Tugay, Bir Aile, 254-258.

61

to become a focal point of dissent against the British, as well as being “pro-Ottoman,” which resulted in his being deposed by the British at the start of World War I in 1914.198

When Abbas Hilmi Pasha reached Egypt and assumed the position of khedive, Gazi

Ahmed Muhtar Pasha, the Ottoman in Egypt after the British occupied the province in 1882, sent a report to Istanbul about the new khedive and the policies that Ahmed

Muhtar deemed advisable. Ahmet Muhtar Pasha started off the report by giving a description of

Abbas Hilmi’s arrival in Egypt and the ceremonies that were held to confirm his appointment.

One interesting aspect of the ceremony that he pointed out was that the British soldiers had played the “anthem” of the Sultan (padişahımız efendimiz hazretlerinin marşını) as the new khedive listened to it while standing.199 Later on in his report, Ahmet Muhtar Pasha shared his initial views about the new khedive, which were mostly positive. He claimed that unless he fell under the influence of people who tried to trick him into opposing the Ottoman Empire, Abbas

Hilmi would perform well in his position (“her nasıl olursa olsun kendüsi dam-ı tezvire düşürilerek sayd idilmek hevesiyle yeltenen ve zaten hal ve mevkide mevcud olan istidad sebebiyle enva-i vesait hilebazi ile sokılub mücedded Devlet-i Aliye'den tenfir içün bin türlü ircafa ihdas eyleyenler bu gencin zihnini bozmazlar ise iyi halde gidecek gibi görüniyor”).200

The reason for this positive opinion on ’s part was the cultural background of Abbas Hilmi’s Istanbul-bred and decidedly pro-Ottoman mother, a fact that underlines how integrated into imperial culture the ruling elite in Egypt was at this time.

Immediately after giving his opinions on the young khedive, Ahmed Muhtar Pasha informed the

Sultan that Abbas Hilmi Pasha was under the influence of his mother, who was born in Istanbul and who, due to the early upbringing that she received there, was a proponent of the Empire.

198 Gershoni and Jankowski, Egypt, Islam, and the Arabs, 24-25; Fahmy, Ordinary Egyptians, 100. 199 BOA, Y..EE 87/44, 19 C 1309/ 20 January 1892. 200 Ibid.

62

Ahmed Muhtar Pasha added that Abbas Hilmi’s mother would not accept letting her son fall into the same circumstances that her husband Tevfik Pasha had suffered and that she knew that it was necessary to obey the Sultan (“Çunki bu zat şimdiki halde Dersaadet'de doğmuş ve bir dereceye kadar orada büyümüş olan ve bu sebeble aldığı ilk terbiyenin hükmüyle muhib-i devlet geçinmekte bulunan validesinin taht-ı te’sir-i nüfuzunda oldıgından mümaileyhden nakl ile kulaklara vasıl olan söze göre zevci Tevfik Paşa'nın düşürildiği varta-yı mahufeye oglinin düşmesini kabul itmeyeceğinden her halde padişahımız efendimiz hazretlerine karşu sadıkane ifa-yı ubudiyet itmesi lazimeden bulındıgını…).”201 Ahmed Muhtar Pasha seems to be suggesting that due to his mother’s influence, Abbas Hilmi would follow a pro-Ottoman line in his reign, unless people around him managed to lead him astray.

At the end of his report, Ahmet Muhtar Pasha listed some measures that he recommended following with regards to the new khedive. One of the most important suggestions that he made was the bestowing of orders, both to Abbas Hilmi Pasha and his brother Mehmed Ali. Ahmed

Muhtar Pasha stated that even though his father Tevfik Pasha had already bestowed on him a first class Osmani Order, it would be advisable to send another jeweled Ottoman order, together with its ferman (imperial edict), to Abbas Hilmi Pasha. Ahmet Muhtar Pasha also added that

Abbas Hilmi’s brother Mehmed Ali, who demonstrated complete loyalty and a sincere heart, should also be given the rank of Rum ili beglerbegligi (governorship-general of ) together with a decoration. 202 These suggestions demonstrate that bestowing Ottoman orders as a way of honoring individuals had become standard practice within the Empire. Moreover, they prove that Ahmed Muhtar Pasha was keenly aware of the cultural and political significance of the Ottoman decorations in Egypt and realized their importance as political tools in Istanbul’s

201 Ibid. 202 Ibid.

63

dealings with the Egyptian ruling elite. By bestowing Ottoman orders on Abbas Hilmi and his brother, Ahmed Muhtar Pasha wanted to exploit the “cultural capital” of the Ottoman decorations in Egypt. He wanted to maintain the favorable intentions of the new khedive towards the Sultan and the Ottoman Empire, which became even more important after the British increased their control over the Egyptian province.

The documents found in the Ottoman archives indicate that the suggestions made by

Ahmed Muhtar Pasha were taken seriously by the Sultan. A little over a month after Ahmed

Muhtar Pasha’s report, an imperial decree dated 2 Şaban 1309/ 2 March 1892 stated that the khedive Abbas Hilmi Pasha had been awarded a murassa Nişan-ı Mecidi (a bejeweled Mecidi

Order).203 Another decree with the same date stated that the murassa Nişan-ı Mecidi had been sent to Ahmed Muhtar Pasha in Egypt via post.204 Six days later, on 8 Şaban 1309/ 8 March

1892, Ahmed Muhtar Pasha reported back to Istanbul that the decoration sent from Istanbul had been granted to Abbas Hilmi Pasha without any ceremony.205 It is curious that even though

Abbas Hilmi Pasha already had an Osmani order, the Sultan presented him with a Mecidi order albeit one with jewels on it. Later on, however, Abdülhamid awarded Abbas Hilmi another decoration and this time it was an Osmani Order, decorated with jewels.206

On 26 Muharrem 1313/ 19 July 1895 Abdülhamid issued an irade, awarding Abbas

Hilmi Pasha a Hanedan-ı Al-i Osmani Order due to his extraordinary loyalty and service.207 The fact that Abdülhamid bestowed this decoration upon the Khedive Abbas Hilmi is very important to emphasize. As Eldem explains, Sultan Abdülhamid issued the Hanedan-ı Al-i Osmani Order for the members of the Ottoman dynasty, foreign rulers, and individuals who demonstrated

203 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 5/286, 2 Ş 1309/ 2 March 1892. 204 BOA, I.MTZ (05) 28/1473, 2 Ş 1309/ 2 March 1892. 205 BOA, I.MTZ (05) 28/1476, 8 Ş 1309/ 8 March 1892. 206 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 5/295, 22 M 1310/ 16 August 1892. 207 BOA, I.TAL 82/69, 26 M 1313/ 19 July 1895.

64

extraordinary loyalty and service to the Ottoman Empire.208 Eldem stresses that it was considered to be a very privileged decoration, awarded to an extremely limited number of individuals. Even though the nizamname of the Hanedan-ı Al-i Osmani Order states that the decoration can be granted to the higher echelons of the Ottoman bureaucracy, the fact that Abdülhamid did not resort to this practice indicates how highly valued this decoration was.209 Moreover, as in the case of the Osmani Order that Sultan Abdülaziz issued, and in line with almost all the decorations of Sultan Abdülhamid’s reign, its design was laden with symbolism, which propagated a sense of “Ottomanness.”210

Eldem also points out that the granting of Ottoman orders had become a fairly routinized process during the reign of Abdülhamid II, which gradually weakened Abdülhamid’s goal of using these objects as a political tool to co-opt individuals into the imperial system and ensure their loyalty both to him personally and to the Empire in general.211 One other way to achieve this goal was to give out decorations at a higher degree than an individual merited. In this light, the significance of granting a Hanedan-ı Al-i Osmani Order to Abbas Hilmi becomes more obvious. As mentioned above, Abdülhamid awarded the Hanedan-ı Al-i Osmani order to a very limited number of people outside of the Ottoman dynasty, and the fact that Abbas Hilmi was one of these few individuals is significant. In her memoirs, which Eldem quotes in his book,

Abdülhamid’s daughter Ayşe Sultan emphasizes this fact, putting forth that during Sultan

Abdülhamid’s reign this nişan was given out to Abbas Hilmi as a show of “extraordinary kindness” (“fevkalade iltifat olmak üzere”).212 What this act demonstrates is Abdülhamid’s

208 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 351. 209 Ibid., 351-352. 210 Ibid., 351. 211 Ibid., 344-345. 212 Ibid., 352.

65

efforts to tie the Egyptian ruling family to the Ottoman imperial network and emphasize the close relationship between the Ottoman dynasty and the Egyptian ruling elite.

As for Abbas Hilmi, he must have been aware of the cultural significance of the

Hanedan-ı Al-i Osmani order, and he was clearly operating within the imperial cultural network.

In a photo from the İsa Akbaş collection that Eldem includes in his book, Abbas Hilmi is shown wearing the Hanedan-ı Al-i Osmani Order,213 which may be taken as a symbol of his willingness to display the nişans that have been bestowed upon him by Abdülhamid and act within the

Ottoman cultural milieu. More importantly, Aḥmad Shafīq Pasha, who was in service of the khedive Abbas Hilmi at the time, wrote about this award in his memoirs. Mentioning that he was not with Abbas Hilmi during this visit to Istanbul in 1895, he put forth that on 19 July, the Sultan personally presented Abbas Hilmi with the Hanedan-ı Al-i Osmani Order. What is more significant, however, is the fact that according to Aḥmad Shafīq Pasha, the khedive sent a telegram back to Egypt to be published in the official newspaper, in which he announced the

Sultan’s granting of the decoration as well as emphasizing the gratitude that he felt for this honor.214 The fact that Abbas Hilmi took this step to make it known in Egypt and to the Egyptian public that the Sultan had granted him this decoration can be interpreted as evidence of the cultural significance of the Ottoman decorations in Egypt at the time as well as Abbas Hilmi’s efforts to utilize this cultural legitimacy in order to bolster his own power base in Egypt, similar to what Mestyan argues in his book about Khedive Ismail.215

Another good example of the use of Ottoman orders to tie specific individuals in Egypt to the Ottoman imperial system and obtain their loyalty both to the Sultan and to the Empire during

213 Ibid., 348. 214 Ahmad Shafiq, Muḏakkirātī fī niṣf qarn, Vol. 2 (Cairo: al-Hay’ah al-Miṣrīyah al-‘Āmmah lil-Kitāb, 1994), 206- 207. 215 Mestyan, Arab Patriotism, 51.

66

the reign of Abdülhamid II was the awarding of Ottoman decorations to the owners of various newspapers that were being published in Egypt and that took a pro-Ottoman stance, which became especially crucial after the British occupation of Egypt.216 Abdülhamid was keenly aware of the power of the press in shaping public opinion and utilized various ways to control it.217 As will be discussed more in depth in later chapters, the press in Egypt during the late 19th century played a very important role in influencing the Egyptian public. Even though the literacy rates were low among the population,218 newspapers were read aloud in public spaces such as coffeehouses, which led them to reach a wider audience and which, in turn, increased their impact.219 One of the most important of these newspapers was al-Ahrām (The Pyramids), which was co-founded in 1876 by two Lebanese Christian emigrants, Salīm and Bishāra Taqlā, and which became extremely influential in Egypt in the late 19th and early 20th centuries.220 Salīm and Bishāra Taqlā were brothers who were among the intellectuals who immigrated to Egypt from due to the more lenient press laws in Egypt.221 At al-Ahrām, they supported the

Ottoman Empire after the British occupation,222 a fact that did not go unnoticed by Abdülhamid and therefore, they were honored with multiple Ottoman decorations over the years. The first of these awards came in 22 Rabiulahir 1299/ 13 March 1882, when Salīm Taqlā, who was referred in the document as Ahram gazetesi -i imtiyazı (“owner of the privilege to publish Ahrām newspaper”) was awarded the Mecidi Order, second class, while his brother “Beşare Takla

216 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 346. 217 François Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, trans. Ali Berktay (İstanbul: İletişim Yayıncılık, 2012), 218, 222-225; Hanioğlu, A Brief History, 125-126. 218 Hoda A. Yousef, Composing Egypt: Reading, Writing, and the Emergence of a Modern Nation, 1870-1930 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2016), 19; Fahmy, Ordinary Egyptians, 33. 219 Ami Ayalon, The Arabic Print Revolution: Cultural Production and Mass Readership (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016), 158, 184-191; Ami Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 52-62, 154-158; Fahmy, Ordinary Egyptians, 13-14, 33-36. 220 Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 42-44. 221 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 137; Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 39, 50. 222 Arthur Goldschmidt, Jr. “Taqla, Bishara” in Biographical Dictionary of Modern Egypt (Boulder, Colorado: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2000), 207; Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 55-56.

67

Efendi” was granted with the Mecidi Order, third class.223 Later, on 11 Şevval 1304/ 3 July 1887, another irade was issued from Yıldız Palace, increasing the class of Bishāra Taqlā’s Mecidi

Order, granting him a second class Mecidi Order.224 Over the years, Bishāra Taqlā seems to have managed to maintain good relations with Sultan Abdülhamid since, almost ten years after he received his first Ottoman decoration, he received another order from the Sultan, this time the

Mecidi order, first class.

More interestingly, the irade dated 20 Zilkade 1309/ 16 June 1892 stated that Bishāra

Taqlā’s wife had also been granted a second-class Şefkat Order.225 This last award may have come as the result of a report by Ahmed Muhtar Pasha, written on 20 Şevval 1309/ 18 May 1892, just a month before Sultan Abdülhamid honored Bishāra Taqlā and his wife with decorations.

Ahmed Muhtar Pasha started his report by informing the Sultan that Bishāra Taqlā had departed

Egypt for Istanbul in order to spend the summer there. He then gave a brief reminder of the importance of the journal al-Ahrām, describing it as the most famous of the newspapers that had been working to protect the rights of the Ottoman Empire in Egypt, and added that “Beşare Bey” deserved praise for the service that he was providing with this newspaper. As an example of

Bishāra Taqlā’s service, Muhtar Pasha cited the fact that al-Ahrām was going against the journal al-Muqattam, which Ahmed Muhtar Pasha defined as the mouthpiece of the British in Egypt, to the extent that even though the people had been semi-forced to subscribe to it, they started to send the copies of al-Muqattam back to the publishing house where it was being printed. Ahmed

Muhtar Pasha ended his report by arguing that al-Ahrām deserved the Sultan’s praise and financial help.226 In light of this report, it may not be too far-fetched to argue that the Sultan took

223 BOA, I.DH 847/68021, 22 R 1299/ 13 March 1882. 224 BOA, I.DH 1036/81525, 11 L 1304/ 3 July 1887. 225 BOA, I.DH 1277/100451, 20 Za 1309/ 16 June 1892. 226 BOA, Y.EE 130/55, 20 L 1309/ 18 May 1892.

68

up Ahmed Muhtar Pasha’s suggestions and awarded Bishāra Taqlā and his wife Ottoman decorations.

Moreover, these efforts by Abdülhamid to increase the cultural presence of the Ottoman

Empire in Egypt drew the ire of the British representatives in the province and they let the

Ottoman government know about their discomfort. A report sent to Istanbul a couple of months after Bishāra Taqlā and his wife were awarded Ottoman decorations, dated 22 Rabiulevvel 1310/

14 October 1892, stated that the British government was uncomfortable with these awards, and the British Foreign Secretary relayed this discomfort to the Ottoman ambassador in London.227

The fact that the British officials were not happy with Abdülhamid’s policy of utilizing Ottoman decorations as a way of binding Arabic-speaking intellectuals in Egypt, such as Bishāra and

Salīm Taqlā, to the Ottoman Empire demonstrates that the British were aware of the cultural significance of these objects and realized their importance in shaping the nascent public opinion in Egypt.

The Taqlā brothers were not the only intellectuals in Egypt whom Sultan Abdülhamid honored with nişans. An irade dated 22 Zilkade 1308/ 29 June 1891 indicates that a third class

Osmani Order was awarded to one “Şeyh Ebu Nezare Efendi,” who is described as a writer in

Egypt.228 “Şeyh Ebu Nezare Efendi” was most probably Yaqūb Ṣannūʿ, also known as James

Sanua in the scholarship. He was the founder of the satirical journal Abū Naẓẓāra al-Zarqa, which was established in 1878. The name Abū Naẓẓāra al-Zarqa means “The Man with Blue

Glasses,” and it was Ṣannūʿ’s nickname as well as the title of his journal.229 Ṣannūʿ was born in

Cairo to an Itailan Jewish family and received his education in Livorno in political economy, international law, natural science and fine arts; he was also introduced to the art of theater there.

227 BOA, Y.A.HUS 265/141, 22 Ra 1310/ 14 October 1892. 228 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 5/284, 22 Za 1308/ 29 June 1891. 229 Matti Moosa, The Origins of Modern Arabic Fiction (Boulder, Colorado: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1997), 42.

69

After he returned to Egypt, he started writing and producing satirical plays, in colloquial Arabic, that criticized the khedivial administration. In 1878, he founded the journal Abū Naẓẓāra al-

Zarqa, in which he continued to criticize both the Khedive and the Sultan, which resulted in his exile to Paris. After the British occupation in 1882, however, his criticisms were directed more towards the British and their supporters in Egypt while he also called on Istanbul to oust the

British.230 Adam Mestyan also points out that Ṣannūʿ utilized Islam as “a uniting anti-khedivial and anti-British political tool.”231 The fact that Abdülhamid granted Ṣannūʿ an Osmani Order may be the result of the Sultan’s effort to influence Ṣannūʿ and ensure his loyalty and support against the British occupation, and possibly against the khedivial household in Egypt.

Other owners of newspapers in Egypt were also granted decorations from Istanbul. For instance, two decorations were granted to the owner in quick succession of the journal al-

Mahrusa. The process was actually initiated by Ahmed Muhtar Pasha. In a report that he sent to

Istanbul on 15 Muharrem 1313/ 8 July 1895, Muhtar Pasha suggested that it would be a good idea to honor the owner of the journal al-Mahrusa with a decoration due to his good service and loyalty to the Empire.232 The Sultan found this suggestion to be feasible and on 23

Cemaziyelevvel 1313/ 11 November 1895, he granted an Osmani Order, fourth class, to al-

Mahrusa’s owner.233 Two years later, Sultan Abdülhamid honored him once again, this time granting him an Osmani Order in the third class.234 On 03 Zilkade 1317 / 5 March 1900 the

230 Moosa, The Origins of Modern Arabic Fiction, 41-51; Goldschmidt, “Sannu, Ya’qub” in Biographical Dictionary of Modern Egypt, 181; Fahmy, Ordinary Egyptians, 45-49. 231 Adam Mestyan, “Arabic Theater in Early Khedivial Culture, 1868-72: James Sanua Revisited,” International Journal of Middle East Studies, 46 (2014): 118. 232 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 5/328, 15 M 1313/ 8 July 1895. 233 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 5/328, 23 C 1316/ 11 November 1895. 234 BOA, I.TAL 156/48, 28 Ca 1313/ 16 November 1895.

70

owner of the al-Falah newspaper, Selim Hamdi Pasha, was granted an Osmani Order, second class, while the same irade also awarded his wife a Şefkat Nişanı.235

In addition to the above-mentioned individuals, one of the most important and interesting figures on whom Abdülhamid bestowed an Ottoman decoration was Muṣṭafā Kāmil, who is portrayed as one of the forerunners of Egyptian nationalism in the historiography of the late 19th and early 20th century Egypt. Muṣṭafā Kāmil was born in Cairo in 1874 and studied first in the khedivial school of law and then continued his education in Toulouse, France. After graduating in 1894, he returned to Egypt and began his political activities, the focus of which was ending the British occupation. To this end, he founded the “National Party” (al-Ḥizb al-Waṭanī), first as a secret society, and later, in 1907, as an official party. Muṣṭafā Kāmil also campaigned in various European countries, especially in France, to garner support for ending the British occupation. Kāmil is considered to be one of the most prominent Egyptian intellectuals, producing numerous works such as al-Mas’ala al-Sharqiyya (The ) and establishing the newspaper, al-Līwa, which promoted his patriotic views. In addition, Kāmil also supported the Ottoman Empire against the British occupation, especially through the perspective of -Islam, and defended the Ottoman sultan’s sovereignty over Egypt.236 This last point explains how Muṣṭafā Kāmil gained the favor of Abdülhamid. At a time when British forces occupied the province, the support of one of the most prominent Arabic-speaking intellectuals of

Egypt must have seemed like a valuable asset to Abdülhamid. Therefore, on 14 Cemazeyilevvel

235 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 6/374, 3 Za 1317/ 5 March 1900. 236 Albert Hourani, Arabic Thought in the Liberal Age, 1798-1939 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983[1962]), 199-208; Gershoni and Jankowski, Egypt, Islam, and the Arabs, 6-8; Fahmy, Ordinary Egyptians, 67- 68; Goldschmidt, “Kamil, Mustafa” in Biographical Dictionary of Modern Egypt, 101.

71

1317/ 20 September 1899, a decree was issued from Yıldız Palace, granting Muṣṭafā Kāmil a

Mecidi Order, third class.237

The Şefkat Order as a Policy Tool in Egypt

As was briefly mentioned above, one distinctive feature of Abdülhamid’s reign with regards to Ottoman decorations and medals was the widespread use of the Şefkat Order, which was designed to be bestowed specifically upon women. As can be seen from the archival documents, Abdülhamid bestowed this order on various female members of the ruling family in

Egypt in an effort to tie them more closely to the Ottoman imperial network. In a telegram addressed to Istanbul from Egypt, Khedive Ismail stated that he had learned that the Sultan appreciated the donations that his family had made and had granted his mother and his wives the bejeweled first class Şefkat Order (“familyam tarafindan dahi olunan ianeler mahzar-ı takdir buyurılarak valide ve haremlerim cariyelerine Şefkat namıyla ihdas buyurılan nişan-ı alinin birinci rütbesinden birer kıta murassa ihsan buyurılmış oldıgı…”).238 This telegram is dated 26

August 1878, five months after the end of the Ottoman-Russian War of 1877-1898, meaning the

“donations” that Khedive Ismail mentioned most probably refered to the donations the female members of Ismail’s household had collected for the Ottoman army or for Muslim refugees during the war. The date of the telegram, however, is important for another reason. Eldem demonstrates that Sultan Abdülhamid issued the Şefkat Order officially on 27 September 1878, emphasizing the fact that preparations had been under way since July of the same year.239 What

Khedive Ismail Pasha’s telegram indicates is that the female members of the khedivial household were probably among the earliest recipients of this decoration, demonstrating the degree of importance that they merited in the eyes of Sultan Abdülhamid. Another early example of this

237 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 5/366, 14 Ca 1317/ 20 September 1899. 238 BOA, Y.PRK.MK 1/7, 28 Ş 1295/ 27 August 1878. 239 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 259-261.

72

practice comes with an decree dated 15 Şevval 1295/ 12 October 1878, just two weeks after the

Şefkat Order was officially issued by Sultan Abdülhamid.240 The decree states only that the orders that had been granted to Khedive Ismail’s mother, wife, and daughter were sent to

Egypt.241 The document does not state specifically what type of orders Abdülhamid granted to the female members of the khedive’s family. Another archival document, however, sheds more light on the issue. An ariza (petition) sent to Istanbul by Khedive Ismail two months later, in which Ismail expressed his gratitude to the Sultan, indicates that the Khedive’s mother and wife had been granted a Şefkat Order, first class, while his daughter had received the same order in the second class.242

Not only were the immediate members of the khedive’s family honored with this decoration; Sultan Abdülhamid granted the Şefkat Order to the women of the whole khedivial household, including the wives and daughters of previous khedives. For instance, on 22 Zilhicce

1307/ 9 August 1890, a decree was issued from Istanbul indicating that Tosun Pasha’s daughter

Emine İnci Hanım had been granted a first class Şefkat Order by the Sultan (“…ve merhum

Tosun Paşa kerimesi Mısırlı iffetlü Emine İnci Hanımefendiye birinci rütbeden Şefkat Nişan-ı

Hümayunu ihsan buyurılmasına mebni muamele-yi lazimenin ifası”)243 Shortly thereafter, on 12

Muharrem 1308/ 28 August 1890, Sultan Abdülhamid issued another decree, bestowing two

Şefkat orders in the first class on Fatma Hanımefendi, who was the daughter of the previous

Khedive, Ismail Pasha, and to Zebire Hanımefendi, who was the daughter of Mehmed Ali

Pasha.244

240 Ibid. 241 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 4/239, 15 L 1295/ 12 October 1878. 242 BOA, Y.PRK.AZJ 2/52, 29 Z 1295/ 24 December 1878. 243 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 4/274, 22 Z 1307/ 9 August 1890. 244 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 4/ 274, 12 M 1308/ 28 August 1890.

73

When Abbas Hilmi succeeded Tevfik Pasha in 1892, the female family members of his household were also on Abdülhamid’s mind, as he utilized the Şefkat Order to tie these members of the Egyptian ruling family to the Ottoman imperial cultural network. For instance, on 18

Zilhicce 1311/ 31 May 1895, Abbas Hilmi’s daughters were awarded first class Şefkat orders.245

Two months later, on 3 Safer 1313/ 26 July 1895, Abdülhamid bestowed another Şefkat Order, this time on the wife of the khedive Abbas Hilmi Pasha.246 Another decree, dated 21 Receb 1322/

1 October 1904, indicates that Abdülhamid awarded Abbas Hilmi Pasha’s daughters Atiyye and

Fethiyye first class Şefkat orders.247 As a final example, Sultan Abdülhamid awarded another daughter of Abbas Hilmi, named Şevket Hanım, a first class Şefkat Order on 9 Cemazeyilahir

1325/ 20 July 1907.248

In addition to the female members of the ruling family, Abdülhamid awarded the Şefkat

Order in lower classes to the female members of the extended household of the Egyptian ruling elite. A good example comes from a decree dated 17 Zilhicce 1311/ 21 June 1894, which states that three women tied to the household of Abbas Hilmi, were being awarded the Şefkat Order, second class. Emphasizing who these women were is important for demonstrating how widely the Sultan deployed Ottoman decorations among the members of the ruling household in Egypt.

One of these women was Seniye Hanım, who was the teacher and scribe of the khedive’s mother.

The second woman mentioned in the document was Kamer Hanım, başkalfa, or household manager, of the Khedive’s mother, and the last one was Gül Hanım, who was the chief laundrywoman of Khedive Abbas Hilmi’s mother.249 In another example, the baş (chief

245 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 5/309, 18 Z 1311/ 31 May 1895. 246 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 5/318, 3 S 1313/ 26 July 1895. 247 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 6/404, 21 B 1322/ 1 October 1904. 248 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 6/422 9 C 1325/ 20 July 1907. 249 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 5/308, 17 Z 1311/ 21 June 1894.

74

concubine) of the Khedive Abbas Hilmi was awarded the third class Şefkat Nişanı from Istanbul on 18 August 1893.250

From what is written above, it may be inferred that the granting of Şefkat orders to the female members of the ruling household in Egypt was taking place solely on Abdülhamid’s initiative. The reality, however, was more complex than that. As was the case with other

Ottoman decorations, the female members of the ruling elite in Egypt were fully aware of the cultural significance of the Şefkat Order and were eager to obtain it from Istanbul, providing another example for the continuing prevalence of Ottoman court culture in Egypt at the time. A document dated 12 Ramazan 1302/ 25 June 1885 reports to the Sultan that a request for a Şefkat

Order to be bestowed upon the wife of Khedive Tevfik Pasha has come from the kapu kethüda

(representative in Istanbul) of the khedive. The document states that the kapu kethüda of Tevfık

Pasha put forth that granting a Şefkat Order to the wife of the khedive would be a cause of great pride and honor for him.251 This request by the Khedive was granted and his wife was awarded a

Şefkat Order, first class.252 Moreover, in a response penned to Sultan Abdülhamid on 9 Şevval

1302/ 22 July 1885, Khedive Tevfik’s wife Emine İlhami personally expressed her gratitude for this honor.253

In another example, three female members of the former khedive Abbas Pasha’s household, namely his wife and his son İlhami’s wife and sister, petitioned the Sultan to grant

Şefkat orders to them, as had been done for their relatives from the Mehmed Ali Pasha dynasty.

These two petitions demonstrate the prestige that this relatively new Ottoman decoration attained among the members of the ruling elite in Egypt. For this reason, they are worth looking into in

250 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 5/319, 6 S 1311/ 18 August 1893. 251 BOA, Y.A.RES 30/5, 12 N 1302/ 25 June 1885. 252 BOA, I.MTZ (05).TAL 4/255, 3 L 1302/ 16 July 1885. 253 BOA, Y.EE 14/142, 9 L 1302/ 22 July 1885.

75

more in depth. The three women first addressed the Sultan directly, stating that even though a number of their female relatives had been honored with the Şefkat Order, since they had no one to present their case to the Sultan, they had been unable to receive the same honor. Therefore, the women in question pleaded with the Sultan to grant them the same Şefkat orders as their relatives. They were circumspect, however, asserting that they did not even hope for one moment that they would be honored with the decorations and that the only purpose of their petition was to make their loyalty and servitude known to the Sultan.254

This petition seems not to have brought the desired result for the women of the Abbas

Pasha household since five years later, in 1888, Saz-ı Dil Hanım, wife of Abbas Pasha, penned another petition to Istanbul. This time, however, the petition was not addressed directly to the

Sultan; instead, Saz-ı Dil Hanım wrote to her nephew who was in service to Sultan Abdülhamid.

For this reason, the language that she used in the document was more candid and revealing. Saz-ı

Dil Hanım started off by reminding her nephew of how, forty-five years ago, when his father

Hasan Pasha had come to Egypt with his wife for a tour of duty in , his wife, who was Saz-

ı Dil Hanım’s sister and who was pregnant at the time, stayed in the Ezbekiyya Palace. The nephew was born while they were still in Egypt and was raised in the palace together with Saz-ı

Dil Hanım’s son, Damad İlhami Pasha. Saz-ı Dil Hanım emphasized to her nephew that every care had been taken for his upbringing and for the comfort of his mother during their time at the palace. She put forth that her nephew, due to his age at the time, may not remember this but he must have listened to these stories from his father and his mother (“Pederiniz devletlü Hasan

Paşa hazretleri takriben kırk beş sene mukaddem memuren kıta-yı Sudaniye'ye teşriflerinde valide-yi muhteremeleri ismetlü kadın efendi hemşiremi zat-ı alilerini hamile oldıgı halde

Ezbekiyye sarayında bize emanet iderek gitmesi müteakib elimizde tevlid ve evlad-ı müteveffamız

254 BOA, Y.PRK.AJZ 8/39, 29 Z 1300/ 31 October 1883.

76

damad-ı şehriyari İlhami Paşa merhumdan tefrik idilmeksizin sizin emr-i terbiye ve validenizin asayiş ve istirahatına sarf-ı cehd ma hasıl oldıgını haseb el-siğar der-hatır idememeniz tabii ise de elbette peder ve maderiniz paşa ve hanım efendiler hazeratinden işitmiş olmalısınız”). Since her nephew was in the service of Sultan Abdülhamid, he must have seen and heard that the wives, daughters, and other female relatives of the present and previous khedives, as well as of

Prince Halim Pasha, had been honored by the sultan with Şefkat orders (“padişahımız efendimiz hazretlerinin mukarrebin-i asdaka-yı bendeganından bulundıgınız halde… Mısır vali-yi lahik ve sabıkıyla Prens Halim paşalar hazretlerinin harem ve kerime ve taallukat-i saireleri ömr-i himmetlü ve nezaketlü padişahımız efendimiz hazretleri enva-yı iltifat ve Şefkat nişanlarıyla taltif ve tesrir buyurıldıklarını görüb işitdiginiz halde”). Saz-ı Dil Hanım asked whether her nephew did not owe it to her to let the Sultan know about how Saz-ı Dil Hanım, the sole remaining wife of Abbas Pasha who had been the governor of Egypt before the others whom she had named, and the wife and daughter of Damad İlhami Pasha, had been deprived of the same honors (namely the Şefkat order, first class) that their relatives had received from the Sultan (“ben dahi anlardan evvel Mısır valisi olan müteveffa Abbas Paşa'nın yegane dünyada kalmış olan küçük haremi ve o evladım muşarileyh İlhami Paşa merhumun harem ve kerimeleri hanım efendiler kerimelerimin saye-yi hümayunlarında gerçi emr-i iaşe ve sairece hiç bir şeye ihtiyacımız yok ise de akran ve emsalimiz ve belki de olmayanların nail oldıkları birinci rütbe Şefkat nişanlarından bizim içün

Mısır familyasından bikes üç duacı cariyeniz vardır diyu hakipay-i hümayunlarına arz itmege evlad-ı manevilik sıfatıyla acaba borçlu degil mi idiniz”). She concluded by stating that she was sending this petition to him on behalf of the three women so that he could give it to the Sultan directly.255 As can be seen from these two petitions, in the relatively short time since the decoration was issued, the Şefkat Order had become a prestigious cultural symbol for the female

255 BOA, Y.PRK.AJZ 13/87, 29 Z 1305/ 6 September 1888.

77

members of the ruling elite in Egypt, underlining the prevalence of Ottoman court culture within the Ottoman Egyptian ruling elite at the time.

Another point that emphasizes the continuing cultural ties between Istanbul and Cairo is the fact that the petitions sent to Istanbul were written in a very elaborate and articulate Ottoman-

Turkish. This fact indicates that either the women who penned the petitions had received extensive education in Ottoman Turkish or that they employed secretaries, who were well-versed in the . Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu argues that the teaching of the Ottoman language had a special importance for the members of the court in Egypt.256 Similarly, Emine Fuat Tugay mentions the presence of Turkish teachers, who taught the language to the male and female members of the Egyptian ruling family.257 The language used in these petitions once again demonstrates how the members of the ruling elite in Egypt were very much part of the Ottoman cultural milieu.

Conclusion

In the 19th century, the Ottoman Empire went through various reforms in its efforts to face the European powers in a more effective manner. In parallel with these reforms, the

Ottomans tried to increase their diplomatic contacts with the European states. As a result of these two developments bestowing orders and medals, in line with established European diplomatic practices, became the new standard practice for honoring individuals in the Ottoman Empire from the mid-19th century onwards.

Shortly after their emergence, the Ottoman orders became important cultural symbols for the ruling and intellectual elite of the Empire. This chapter has utilized these objects as an analytical tool in order to look deeper into the relationship between Istanbul and the ruling and

256 İhsanoğlu, Mısır’da Türkler ve Kültürel Mirasları, 28-30. 257 Tugay, Bir Aile, 331-332.

78

intellectual elite in Egypt from the mid-19th century until the early 20th century. Based primarily on documents from the Ottoman archives, the chapter advanced the argument that various

Ottoman sultans and governments utilized Ottoman decorations in order to assert their legitimacy and sovereignty over the Ottoman-Egyptian elite between the and 1909. The ruling and intellectual elite in Egypt, for their part, were aware of the cultural and symbolic significance of these objects and actively tried to attain them from Istanbul.

The chapter first demonstrated how even in the early stages, the Ottoman orders were perceived as valuable cultural assets by the Egyptian governors. During the reign of Ismail

Pasha, who tried to gain more autonomy from the Ottoman Empire, Ottoman decorations became the standard practice for honoring individuals in Egypt. The chapter then moved on to analyze the “golden age of Ottoman orders” in Egypt, which corresponded to the reign of Abdülhamid II.

It demonstrated how Abdülhamid II utilized these objects as tools to assert his sovereignty and legitimacy in Egypt and to co-opt various members of the Egyptian ruling elite, as well as the

Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt, into the Ottoman cultural network. The chapter concluded by focusing on the special attention that Sultan Abdülhamid paid to the female members of the ruling elite in Egypt and how he tried to utilize the Şefkat Order in order to tie these women more closely into the Ottoman cultural network. The female members of the

Egyptian elite also considered these decorations to be prestigious cultural symbols and sought to obtain them from the Ottoman Empire, demonstrating once again the prevalence of the Ottoman cultural consciousness in Egypt at the end of the 19th and beginning of the 20th centuries.

79

Chapter 2: An Egyptian Victory: The Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 and “Ottoman Consciousness” in Egypt

Introduction

Eldem points out that Abdülhamid issued a medal to commemorate the victory against

Greece that the Ottomans achieved in 1897 and made extensive use of it to promote his idea of

“Ottomanism.”258 This was not surprising since from a military perspective, “the long 19th century” was not a period of success for the Ottoman Empire. From the end of the 18th century until the beginning of World War I, the Ottoman Empire witnessed numerous invasions and catastrophic defeats. Napoleon’s invasion of Egypt in 1798,259 the Ottoman army’s defeat against

Egypt’s governor Mehmed Ali Pasha’s armies in the early ,260 the French invasion of in 1881, and the British occupation of Egypt in 1882261 prove point. Maybe the most damaging of these military catastrophes came in the war against Russia in 1877-78 and in the Balkan Wars in 1912-1913 when the Ottoman Empire lost huge portions of its Balkan territories.262 Even in victory, the Ottoman Empire had the help of the Great Powers. For instance, Britain came to the assistance of the Ottomans in 1801 in their efforts to get the French out of Egypt.263 Similarly, the Ottoman Empire needed the backing of Britain and Austria in order to defeat the armies of

Mehmed Ali in 1840,264 while in the Crimean War, the Ottomans fought jointly with Britain and

France to defeat Russia.265 There was one war in this period, however, in which the Ottoman armies won against their rivals without outside aid. This was the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897

258 Eldem, İftihar ve İmtiyaz, 307-309. 259 For a detailed account, see Cole, Napoleon’s Egypt: Invading the Middle East. 260 Fahmy, All the Pasha’s Men, 61-67. 261 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 136-137. 262 Hanioğlu, A Brief History, 121-123, 170-174; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 84-85, 206- 207. 263 Cole, Napoleon’s Egypt, 244. 264 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 48. 265 Canan Badem, The Ottoman Crimean War (1853-1856) (Leiden: Brill, 2010), 180-182.

80

which, even though it led to a diplomatic defeat in the end, can still be marked as the only war that the Ottoman Empire won without the support of allies.

This victory against Greece was a relatively major event for the Empire. Coming almost twenty years after the disastrous war against Russia, it finally gave the Ottomans something to rejoice about while Sultan Abdülhamid shrewdly used it to bolster his personal legitimacy as well as to strengthen the unity of the Ottoman population. After the Ottoman armies defeated

Greece in 1897, Abdülhamid went back to using the title “,” which was given to him in the first days of the 1877-78 war.266 More importantly, Abdülhamid made the war against Greece a rallying cry for galvanizing feelings of “Ottomanism,” which was infused more and more with

Islamist undertones and directed mostly at the Muslims of the Empire, especially after the

Muslims became the majority of the population as a result of the Empire’s loss of huge swaths of its Balkan territories in the Ottoman-Russian War of 1877-1878.267

Abdülhamid’s efforts to awaken a sense of Ottomanism after the victory against Greece seem to have worked within both the Muslim and the non-Muslim communities of the Empire. In her book, Julia Phillips Cohen demonstrates how during the war with Greece in 1897, the

Ottoman Jews sided with the Muslim community of the Empire and how they assumed symbols of “Islamic Ottomanism” in order to demonstrate their patriotism and carve out a place for themselves in the eyes of the Ottoman state.268 More relevant for the purposes of this chapter, the scholars working on late 19th -century Egypt also argue that the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 led to an upsurge of feeling of “Ottomanism” among the Egyptian population and the Arabic-

266 Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 464. 267 Kemal H. Karpat, The Politicization of Islam: Reconstructing Identity, State, Faith, and Community in the Late Ottoman State (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001), 183, 319-321. 268 Julia Phillips Cohen, Becoming Ottomans: and Imperial Citizenship in the Modern Era (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 86-101.

81

speaking intellectuals of Egypt.269 This chapter will take these arguments as a starting point to focus on the reverberations of the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 in Egypt and analyze how it was covered and perceived by the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt at the time, as well as investigating how the Egyptian society reacted to this event. More specifically, the chapter will take the Ottoman-Greek War as an analytical tool to gauge Ottoman consciousness in Egypt and how it provided a background for the growing sense of “Egyptian consciousness” in the late 19th century.

The main idea of this chapter is that the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 led to a surge of

Ottoman consciousness among the ruling and intellectual elite in Egypt as well as in Egyptian society at large. An analysis of the Arabic-language press and the works of Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt at the time reveals that the way the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 reverberated in Egypt demonstrates the prevalence of “Ottoman consciousness” in the province at a time when a distinct sense of “Egyptian consciousness” was also developing. Under this over-arching claim, the chapter will advance three interrelated arguments. First, it will demonstrate that newspapers and journals in Egypt, especially dailies such as al-Ahrām and al-

Mu’ayyad, covered the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 in great detail from its early stages to its end and its aftermath. This coverage shows the demand for this type of news on the part of the

Egyptian reading public. Moreover, not only the content of these articles but also the style in which they are composed is indicative of the Ottoman consciousness in Egypt at this time.

Connected to this first argument, the chapter will also claim that Arabic-speaking intellectuals in

Egypt utilized the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 in order to discursively resist the British occupation. To put it another way, these intellectuals expressed their Ottoman consciousness by self-identifying as “Ottomans” as a way to discursively resist the imperialist policies that Britain

269 Gershoni and Jankowski, Egypt, Islam, and the Arabs, 10; Hourani, Arabic Thought, 204-205.

82

implemented against the Ottoman Empire in general and against Egypt in particular. Finally, the chapter will also argue that an upsurge in the Ottoman consciousness was evident among wider

Egyptian society at large during the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897, as can be seen from the donations that were collected for the Ottoman army during and after the war. I suggest that these donations, made by wide segments of the Egyptian population, represented a way for the

Egyptians to “perform” their Ottoman consciousness in a public setting since the names of the donors were being published daily in various newspapers.

The source base for this chapter consists of Arabic-language newspapers and periodicals that were active in Egypt at the time of the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897. My analysis will focus primarily on the newspapers al-Ahrām and al-Mu’ayyad because they were daily newspapers with extensive coverage of the war and its aftermath. The analysis will be supplemented with journals such as al-Hilāl and Abu Naẓẓāra. Works of Arabic-speaking intellectuals in Egypt will also be used to see how these intellectuals responded to the war. Finally, the chapter will also make use of documents from the Ottoman state archives in order to look more closely at how the

Ottoman state perceived the process of iane (donation) collection in Egypt.

Before going into the main analysis, the chapter will first present a brief history of the press in Egypt, from its early beginnings to the end of the 19th century. Specific attention will be paid to the press’s role in shaping the newly-emerging public opinion in Egypt. Also, based on

Jurgen Habermas’s theoretical framework, it will demonstrate how the press in Egypt acted as a new public sphere for Egyptians to “perform” their Ottoman consciousness. Following this brief history of the press in Egypt, the chapter will give an overview of the Ottoman-Greek War of

1897 and how it unfolded in order to provide the context for the analysis to follow. The core of the chapter demonstrates how the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 led to an upsurge in a feeling of

83

“Ottomanness” among the Arabic-speaking intellectuals Egyptian society as a whole, underlining the continuing presence of Ottoman mentality in Egypt at the end of the 19th century.

The History of the Press in Egypt

The beginnings of the press in Egypt can be traced to Mehmed Ali Pasha’s governorship, which lasted from 1805 to 1848. After establishing his control over the province, Mehmed Ali

Pasha undertook various reforms in Egypt in order to centralize his administration and to rule more effectively.270 He was keenly aware that new communication methods were necessary to run his centralizing government apparatus. Therefore, after setting up a printing press in Bulaq in late 1821 or early 1822,271 he established a journal that was bilingual (Arabic and Turkish) and which consisted of official notices, and reports from the capital and the provinces as well as stories from the Thousand and One Nights to “alleviate the rigor of official business.”272

Intended solely as a way to inform Mehmed Ali Pasha and his aides of state affairs, this small publication later evolved into Waqā’i‘ Miṣriyya (“Egyptian Events”), which started publication in 1828. Starting off as the official newspaper for the Egyptian government, Waqā’i‘ Miṣriyya contained mostly state news such as the orders of Mehmed Ali Pasha, progress on state projects and reports from the branches of Pasha’s administration and aimed at being an efficient tool for the running of Mehmed Ali Pasha’s government. Ayalon points out, however, that Waqā’i‘

Miṣriyya also included news from Istanbul as long as Mehmed Ali Pasha was on good terms with the Sultan. Waqā’i‘ Miṣriyya continued to thrive during the reign of Mehmed Ali Pasha, but its

270 Hunter, Egypt Under the Khedives, 14-17; Fahmy, All the Pasha’s Men, 9-10; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 38; Kenneth M. Cuno, “Egypt to c.1919” in The New Cambridge . Vol 5: The Islamic World in the Age of Western Dominance, ed. Francis Robinson (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 80-85. 271 Ayalon, The Arabic Print Revolution, 22. 272 Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East), 14.

84

publication almost stopped during the governorship of Abbas (r.1848-1854) and Said Pasha

(r.1854-1863).273

Ismail Pasha’s reign as governor (1863-1879) proved to be a breath of fresh air for the press in Egypt. Similar to his grandfather Mehmed Ali, Ismail Pasha had plans to modernize

Egypt in line with Western models. Having had the opportunity to experience life in Europe while he was studying in Vienna and Paris between 1844 and 1849,274 Ismail Pasha was very much aware of the importance of the press in modern societies. One of the key reforms that he implemented during his governorship (and later on khedivate) was the extension of railroads and telegraph networks in Egypt, enabling faster and better flow of information, which was crucial for the nascent press industry. During his tenure, Ismail Pasha also expanded the state’s education system, establishing numerous schools that provided education on the Western model.

The graduates of these new schools led the way toward an increased demand for literary output.275 Appreciating the importance of the press, Ismail Pasha first revitalized and improved

Waqā’i‘ Miṣriyya, restoring it once again to its former place as an efficient tool for conducting the affairs of his government. He also encouraged, albeit in a cautious manner, the setting up of private presses to compete with the foreign-language press that already existed in Egypt at the time. What Ismail Pasha had in mind was to secretly support and control these privately-owned newspapers and utilize them for his own interests.276 Having thus received the blessings of the highest authority, numerous privately owned newspapers and journals started to appear in Egypt from the late 1860s onwards. Most of these newspapers were short lived, such as Wādī al-Nīl

(“The ”), which was established in 1867 and edited by ‘Abdallāh Abū al-Su‘ud until

273 Ibid.15-16. 274 Mestyan, Arab Patriotism, 54. 275 Lucie Ryzova, The Age of the Efendiyya: Passages to Modernity in National-Colonial Egypt (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014), 89-91; Yousef, Composing, 40-41; Ayalon, The Arabic Print Revolution, 30. 276 Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 19-20.

85

it closed in 1874. Sometimes depicted in the literature as the first privately-owned newspaper in

Egypt, it was actually under government protection and had financial backing from Ismail’s administration, which also fed it a steady flow of inside information. Another newspaper that was founded in the early 1870s was Rawḍat al-Akhbār (“The Garden of News”), which followed the same editorial tone as Wādī al-Nīl and which closed down in 1878.277

Alongside these half-hearted attempts to establish private presses, truly privately-owned newspapers also started to emerge in Egypt in the late 1870s. The Syrian and Lebanese immigrants who moved to Egypt from the early 1860s onwards played significant roles in this process. Syrian and Lebanese intellectuals, particularly Christians, started to move to Egypt in the 1860s as a result of intercommunal strife in the Greater Syria region, which reached new heights as a result of the Damascus massacre of 1860.278 Moreover, Egypt under Ismail, and later on under the British occupation, proved to be a more attractive option for the and journalists both financially and intellectually, especially after Sultan Abdülhamid tightened the screws on freedom of expression in the Ottoman Empire through draconian censorship laws.279

As mentioned in the previous chapter Salīm and Bishāra Taqlā were among these Lebanese

Christian emigrants who moved to Egypt in the 1870s and who co-founded al-Ahrām in

Alexandria in 1876. Soon after its establishment, al-Ahrām became a very important part of the

Arabic-language press in Egypt. Similar to their peers, Salīm and Bishāra Taqlā were interested in transmitting “Western” science and culture to their own societies. More importantly, however, they also wanted to obtain and transmit the latest and most accurate news since they believed that

277 Ibid., 41-42. 278 Ussama Makdisi, The Culture of Sectarianism: Community, History, and Violence in Nineteenth-Century Ottoman Lebanon (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), 118-145. 279 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 137; Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 50; Donald J. Cioeta, “Ottoman Censorship in Lebanon and Syria, 1876-1908,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 10, no. 2 (May, 1979): 170-178.

86

this type of information was in high demand in Egypt.280 In order to achieve this goal, and as a result of their solid financial status, Taqlā brothers had subscriptions to Havas and Reuter’s news agencies for al-Ahrām as well as correspondents throughout Egypt and in the main urban centers of the region, such as Istanbul and . They were therefore able to report on local and international political and economic issues, while also providing analysis. Ayalon argues that al-

Ahrām put “reportage before political ideology” while also pointing out that the newspaper was able to navigate the turbulent political of the 1870s and 1880s by occasionally siding with the khedive as well as looking for the backing of a foreign partner, namely France.281

In addition to Salīm and Bishāra Taqlā, other Syrian immigrants established newspapers in Egypt in the late 1870s and early 1880s. One of these emigrants was Adīb Isḥāq, who was a disciple of Jamāl al-Dīn al-Afghānī and who moved to Egypt in 1876.282 In his short life (he died at the age of twenty-nine), Isḥāq established and edited various newspapers in Egypt, even though they were mostly short-lived. Some of these newspapers include Miṣr (“Egypt”), which ran between 1877 and 1879, al-Tijāra (“Commerce”), which was published in 1878 and 1879, and Miṣr al-Fatāh (“Young Egypt”), which lasted only for one year in 1879. Connected to Isḥāq, another Syrian immigrant named Salīm Naqqāsh also published a newspaper called al-Maḥrūsa

(“The Protected”), which was a daily and which was in print in 1880.283

The other important development of the late 19th -century Arabic press in Egypt was the creation of satirical journals, which became extremely popular and influential among a broad section of Egyptian society. Yaqūb Ṣannūʿ, who was mentioned in the previous chapter, was a pioneer in this field with his journal called Abū Naẓẓāra al-Zarqā (The Man with Blue Glasses).

280 Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 42. 281 Ibid., 43. 282 Goldschmidt, 89. 283 Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 44.

87

Ṣannūʿ, who was Jewish, established Abū Naẓāra in 1877 and it became popular almost instantly, mainly due to the fact that it was written mostly in colloquial Egyptian and relied on humor and . At first on friendly terms with Ismail Pasha, Ṣannūʿ soon started to criticize the khedive in Abū Naẓẓāra, which led to his exile to Paris. In France, Ṣannūʿ continued to publish his newspaper, which was then smuggled into Egypt by various means. Consisting of four pages,

Abu Naẓẓāra enjoyed widespread popularity in Egypt until the late 1890s. In his newspaper,

Ṣannūʿ criticized the Egyptian elite, including the khedive, as well as Egypt’s economic problems and foreign interference. Abū Naẓẓāra also played a crucial role in the ‘Urābī

Revolution and Ṣannūʿ’s criticism turned towards the British after the occupation in 1882.284

The British occupation, which followed the ‘Urābī Revolution, was a massive shock for the intellectuals in Egypt. According to Ayalon, the Egyptian intellectuals struggled to find a proper response to this momentous event. On the one hand, Ayalon argues, the British occupation provided intellectuals in Egypt with a sharp focus, namely ending the occupation and getting the British out of Egypt. On the other hand, the British presented a model of "political stability, good economic management, and efficient administration."285 As they were recovering from the shock of their country being occupied by a foreign power, there was a period of inactivity within the Arabic-language press in Egypt. As the shock wore off, however, the press in Egypt started to pick up again towards the end of the 1880s, and new journals and newspapers started to appear, helped by the relatively lax censorship rules that the British implemented.286

Once again, Christian immigrants from Syria and Lebanon were the vanguards of this process.

One of these periodicals was al-Muqtaṭaf (“The Digest”), which was founded by Ya‘qūb Sarruf

284 Irene Gendzier, The Practical Visions of Ya‘qub Sanu‘ (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1966), 58- 69; Eliane Ursula Ettmüller, The Construct of Egypt’s National-Self in James Sanua’s Early Satire and Caricature (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 2012), 43-44, 69-79; Fahmy, Ordinary Egyptians 47-49, 57-60. 285 Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 51. 286 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 137; Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 50.

88

and Fāris Nimr in 1876 in and moved to Cairo in 1884. Al-Muqtaṭaf mostly contained articles on science and culture and was influential in shaping the opinions of the intellectuals of

Egypt at the time.287 Another similar periodical was al-Hilāl (“The Crescent”) which was founded Jūrjī Zaydān, who was from Beirut.288 Competing with al-Muqtaṭaf, al-Hilāl focused more intensely on history and literature, and, as Ayalon points out, it was “deeply involved in the

Egyptian intellectual debate on the question of communal orientation, advocating Arabism as a framework for identity and a blend of Islamic values and modernity as cultural guidelines.”289

In addition to al-Muqtaṭaf and al-Hilāl, the other influential cultural periodical that emerged at this time was al-Manār (“The Lighthouse”). Al-Manār was founded by Rashīd Riḍā, who, unlike the founders of al-Muqtataf and al-Hilāl, was a Muslim and was the most influential disciple of the Islamic reformist . Born in , Riḍā,received a traditional education and later on studied at the Ottoman state schools, moving to Cairo from Syria in

1897.290 Establishing al-Manār in 1898, Riḍā utilized this periodical to propagate his reformist ideas, which were mostly based on the teachings of Muḥammad ‘Abduh. Riḍā, argued that only by interpreting Islam in a proper way and adhering to it would Muslim societies be able to achieve success vis-à-vis the Western powers. Riḍā turned al-Manār into the mouthpiece of his philosophy, which was known as salafiyya, becoming an influential player in the cultural and intellectual arena of Egypt and later Syria until his death in 1935.291

In addition to the cultural periodicals mentioned above, more politically oriented daily newspapers also started to appear in Egypt at the end of the 1880s. One of the most important of

287 Hourani, Arabic Thought, 246; Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 53. 288 For an overview of Zaydān’s life, see Thomas Philipp, Jurji Zaidan and the Foundations of : A Study (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2014), 21-34; Aḥmād Husayn al-Tamawī, Jūrjī Zaydān (Cairo: al- Hay’ah al-Miṣriyya al-‘Āmmah lil- Kitāb, 1992), 7-19. 289 Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 54. 290 Hourani, Arabic Thought, 224-227. 291 Hourani, Arabic Thought, 227-240; Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 54-55.

89

these newspapers was al-Mu’ayyad (“The Partisan”), the founder of which was ‘Alī Yūsuf, who was born in . After receiving a traditional education in a local kuttāb (Quranic elementary school), Yūsuf then studied at al-Azhar. Taking an interest in literature and history, he first co-edited a literary periodical called al-Adab (“Literature), and in 1899, with the backing of the Egyptian Prime Minister Muṣṭafā Riyāḍ Pasha, established al-Mu’ayyad. During the time under consideration in this chapter, al-Mu’ayyad was strictly against the British occupation, a fact that drew the support of Egyptian intellectuals such as Muṣṭafā Kāmil, Muḥammad Farīd, and Aḥmad Luṭfī al-Sayyid, as well as the Khedive Abbas Hilmi.292 According to Ayalon, al-

Mu’ayyad “provided its readers with detailed news reportage and commentary” while it also

“provided a voice for the views and emotions of a large segment of the public,” which made al-

Mu’ayyad one of the most successful newspapers in Egypt at the end of the 19th and in the early

20th century.293

While al-Mu’ayyad was defending anti-British views and becoming the influential mouthpiece of the proponents of Egyptian nationalism, its “” in the Egyptian press of the time was al-Muqaṭṭam. Founded in 1899 by Ya‘qūb Sarruf and Fāris Nimr, the owners of al-

Muqtaṭaf, al-Muqaṭṭam first started off as a weekly periodical but then turned into a daily newspaper. It was a quality paper, which had subscriptions to Reuter’s and Havas news agencies, had reporters in the provinces and in various parts of the Empire, and followed the international press closely. Therefore, it was able to bring information on political, economic, and military issues to its readers as well as providing extensive analysis and commentary. What made al-

Muqaṭṭam the rival of al-Mu’ayyad was the fact that al-Muqaṭṭam’s editorial tone was heavily pro-British. Combining this with the fact that it was also critical of the Sultan as well as having a

292 Arthur Goldschmidt, Jr. “Rida, Rashid,” in Biographical Dictionary of Modern Egypt (Boulder, Colorado: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2000), 230-231. 293 Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 57.

90

secularist outlook, it is not surprising that al-Muqaṭṭam drew the ire of wide segments of the

Egyptian intelligentsia, including the likes of ‘Alī Yūsuf and Muṣṭafā Kāmil, who were strictly against the British occupation.294

Women’s journals also had a significant part in the history of the Arabic press in the late

19th century. In her pioneering study, Beth Baron demonstrates how Arab women’s journals started to carve out a place for themselves in the publishing world. Even though they became more numerous and vocal in the first decades of the 20th century, in the period of this chapter’s analysis, various women had already begun to establish journals, such as al-Firdaus

(“Paradise”), first published in 1896 and Anīs al-Jalīs (“The Intimate Companion”), published in

1898.295 Baron emphasizes the fact that the emergence of women’s journals “paralleled the emergence of the nationalist movement in Egypt.”296 Female intellectuals of Egypt actively participated in the debates that were being held in intellectual circles about the “reimagining” of

Egypt’s identity, paying particular attention to the issue of “renegotiation” of gender roles in the newly-emerging nation-state.297 Baron puts forth that until World War I, there were three distinct trends regarding Egypt’s identity: “religiously inspired Egyptian Ottomanism, territorially grounded secular nationalism, and ethnic-linguistically based Arab nationalism.”298 According to

Baron, took up different positions on this issue, and the women’s journals enabled them to express the opinions that they held. For instance, while conservative women expressed their support for the Egyptian Ottomanists in journals such as Tarqīyat al-Mar’a

294 Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 56-57. 295 Beth Baron, The Women’s Awakening in Egypt: Culture, Society, and the Press (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994), 16-19. 296 Ibid., 13. 297 Ibid., 191. 298 Beth Baron, “Mothers, Morality, and Nationalism in Pre-1919 Egypt” in The Origins of Arab Nationalism, eds. Rashid Khalidi, Lisa Anderson, Muhammad Muslih, and Reeva S. Simon (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), 274.

91

(“Women’s Progress”) and al-‘Afāf (“Virtue”), women with liberal political views went against traditional values in journals such as Anīs al-Jalīs.299

This discussion of the Arabic press in Egypt would not be complete without analyzing the influence that the press had in the late 19th century for wider segments of the Egyptian population. Even though Ismail Pasha tried to expand the education system by establishing modern schools, the literacy rates in Egypt remained low. Hoda Yousef, basing her numbers on the censuses conducted by the Egyptian Ministry of Finance, gives the official literary rates as 8 percent for males and 0.2 percent for females in 1897, 8.5 percent for males and 0.3 percent for females in 1907 and 13.6 percent for males and 2.1 percent for females in 1917. The average rate of literacy for the Egyptian population as a whole was 4.1 percent for 1897, 4.4 for 1907 and 7.9 for 1917.300 Ziad Fahmy gives slightly different numbers in his analysis, which is based on the

Annuaire statistique de l’Égypte (“Statistical Yearbook of Egypt”) that was published in 1914,

1918, and 1928-1929. According to the figures that Fahmy provides, in 1897 the rate of literacy in Egypt for males was 9.1 percent and for females 0.7 percent, with the total rate of literacy being 4.8 percent. The figures go up slightly in 1907, the male literacy rate being 9.7 percent and the female literacy rising to 1.1 percent, while for the year 1917, male literacy is close to 12 percent and female literacy is 1.8 percent.301

Looking at these figures, it would be easy to dismiss the significance of the debates that

Arabic-speaking intellectuals had in the press at the time for the wider population of Egypt, and argue that the discussions of the “identity” of Egypt were a matter of concern for only a very few number of individuals. Nevertheless, it would be misleading to measure the impact that the

Arabic press had on the broader population of Egypt solely through the literacy rates. As

299 Ibid., 276-278. 300 Yousef, Composing Egypt, 19. 301 Fahmy, Ordinary Egyptians, 33.

92

demonstrated by Ayalon, Fahmy, and Yousef, communal reading practices enabled the press in

Egypt to reach a wider audience. Ayalon argues that “groups possess mechanisms that allow them to amplify the potential of literacy held by some of their members, by making the latter share the fruits of their reading skills with others, vocally. The typical formats in which this practice takes place are sessions of collective reading, where the odd learned individual around makes the contents at hand accessible to the group by reading the text aloud.” This way, the

“community as a whole attains the desired objective of circulating the message.” 302 In late 19th- century Egypt, the most popular places for communal reading of journals and newspapers were coffeehouses, where the news of the day was read out loud to an eager, all-male body of listeners, who later discussed it among themselves and with their families.303 Fahmy also emphasizes the importance of the coffeehouses in Egypt, putting forth that they “played the greatest role in the oral diffusion of mass culture.”304 Moreover, the fact that satirical journals in

Egypt contained numerous cartoons and were written in colloquial Egyptian also increased their power to disseminate knowledge to a larger segment of the Egyptian population.305 Yousef also problematizes the strict divide between literate and illiterate, arguing instead that in late 19th- century Egypt, there were multiple “literacies,” which she defines as “sets of skills- reading, writing, and their related practices- available to many.”306 Similar to Ayalon and Fahmy, Yousef emphasizes the role of coffeehouses and other public spaces in enabling the Egyptian population to engage with the written word regardless of their ability to read and write.307 This participation

302 Ayalon, The Arabic Print Revolution, 158. 303 Ayalon, The Arabic Print Revolution, 191-193; Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 156-159. 304 Fahmy, Ordinary Egyptians, 33-36. 305 Ibid.,37. 306 Yousef, Composing Egypt, 6. 307 Ibid., 28.

93

in public literacies increased the impact that the newspapers had beyond their circulation numbers or the number of people who actually “read” them in a conventional sense.308

Focusing on the Arabic-language press of the late 19th century provides a good entry point for analyzing the feeling of Ottoman consciousness in Egypt, both for the Arabic-speaking intellectuals and the Egyptian public in general. Moreover, building on Jürgen Habermas’ and

Benedict Anderson’s works, I consider the press as an integral part of the public sphere in Egypt in the late 19th century. Habermas defines the “public sphere” as an avenue of debate that allows the members of the population to express their views about the common good and try to bring about change in their environment. According to Habermas, one of the key components of the public sphere is the press, which allows various ideas to circulate and be discussed among the population.309 Anderson elaborates more on the role of the press in the development of “national consciousness” and how it led to the emergence of “imagined communities.”310 This chapter will demonstrate how the press enabled a debate on the “Ottomanness of Egypt,” sparked by the 1897

Ottoman-Greek War, to take place in the Egyptian public sphere and how wide segments of the population “performed” their Ottomanness, either through expressing their feelings in writing to the newspapers or contributing to the donations collected for the Ottoman army, since the names of the donors were published daily in the newspapers. Before moving on to the main analysis, however, a brief summary of the 1897 Ottoman-Greek War and its aftermath is necessary to provide context for the arguments to follow.

The Ottoman-Greek War of 1897: An Overview

308 Ibid. 31-32. 309 Jürgen Habermas, The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society, trans. Thomas Burger (Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1989), 23-31. 310 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, rev. ed. (London: Verso, 2006), 67-82.

94

The main reason that a war erupted between the Ottoman Empire and Greece in 1897 was the island of Crete. Crete was one of the most problematic territories that the Empire had to deal with in the long 19th century, the other one being Lebanon.311 The Ottomans took Crete under their control in 1669, after a long struggle with , and relative peace and stability were achieved on the island until the early 19th century.312 When the revolted against the

Ottoman Empire in 1821, Crete also joined the uprising. Unable to deal with this problem on his own, Sultan Mahmud II was forced to turn to Mehmed Ali Pasha, who was the governor of

Egypt at the time, and ask for his assistance. Egyptian troops under Mehmed Ali’s son Ibrahim

Pasha suppressed the revolt on the island before landing in Morea in 1825. Despite the fact that the Greek revolt was suppressed with the help of Mehmed Ali Pasha, Greece won its independence from the Ottoman Empire in 1830 with the help of the European powers. Crete, however, remained under Ottoman rule. When Mehmed Ali Pasha rebelled against Sultan

Mahmud II, invading Syria in 1831 and defeating the Ottoman armies in 1832, the Sultan was forced to grant Mehmed Ali Pasha the governorship of Crete in addition to Egypt and Hejaz.313

Mehmed Ali Pasha’s control over Crete lasted for almost ten years. As he did in Egypt,

Mehmed Ali undertook some reforms on the island, such as conducting a census to improve taxation and constructing large-scale public works.314 Nevertheless, after he defeated the Sultan’s armies again on 24 June 1839, the European powers (Britain, Austria, , and Russia) decided to intervene and in the July Convention of 1840 issued an for Mehmed Ali to withdraw from Crete, Syria and Hejaz. When he did not comply, a joint British-Ottoman-

311 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 78. 312 For a detailed account of Ottoman rule on Crete see Molly Greene, A Shared World: Christians and Muslims in the Early Modern Mediterranean (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000). 313 Ayşe Nükhet Adıyeke, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu ve Girit Bunalımı (1896-1908) (: Türk Tarih Kurumu, 2000), 15-19; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 39, 46-47; Fahmy, All the Pasha’s Men, 38-39, 67. 314 Elektra Kostopoulou, “The Muslim of Autonomous Crete: An Exploration into its Origins and Implications” Unpublished Ph.D. diss., Boğaziçi University, 2009, 47-48.

95

Austrian force defeated Mehmed Ali’s armies and he was compelled to retreat from Crete as well as Syria and Hejaz, in 1841.315

After the Ottoman government regained control of the island, Crete continued to be a problem for Istanbul in a perpetual cycle of revolts and granting of privileges. The main issue that the Ottoman Empire was facing was the fact that the Christians on the island did not look favorably upon a reformed Ottoman rule. Rather, their ultimate demand was unification with

Greece.316 Therefore, the reforms of the era, aiming at centralization, more efficient taxation, and equality between Muslims and non-Muslims, were not received very enthusiastically by the local Christians, who utilized these reforms to challenge the central authority.

Elektra Kostopoulou specifically emphasizes the resistance of Christians on Crete to

Istanbul’s centralization efforts, which led to various revolts against Ottoman rule. In 1858, the local Christians mounted an uprising, known as the “Uprising of Mavrogenis,” which was due to the failure of the governor Veli Pasha to implement the new reforms that promised equality between Christians and Muslims, as well as against the increasing taxation demands coming from Istanbul. The Ottoman government dealt with this uprising by granting Crete special judicial, administrative, and financial privileges, which curtailed the already tenuous centralized control of the Ottoman government on the island.317 The problem was not permanently resolved, however, and Crete continued to be a headache for the Ottoman Empire. Another major revolt took place in 1866, caused initially by the Christians’ resistance to the implementation of the centralizing reforms, and later by the demands of the Cretan Christians for unification with

315 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 48; Fahmy, All the Pasha’s Men, 291-292; Kostopoulou, “The Muslim Millet,” 50-51. 316 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 78. 317 Kostopoulou, “The Muslim Millet,” 69-71.

96

Greece.318 This time, the Ottoman Empire tried to suppress the revolt with force, resulting in protestations from the European powers. Therefore, the Ottoman government was forced to negotiate with the insurgents on the island and in the end granted Crete a special administrative status with the “Organic Law of Crete” in 1868.319 Towards the end of the Ottoman-Russian War of 1877-78, which was a disaster for the Ottoman Empire, the local Christians on Crete started to rise up once again, forcing Sultan Abdülhamid to increase Crete’s autonomy by what came to be known as the “Halepa Accord” or the “Pact of Halepa,” after a small town in northwestern Crete, now a district of Chania.320 It is also interesting to note that Ahmed Muhtar Pasa, who would later be appointed to Egypt as the Ottoman High Commissioner after the British occupation in

1882, played a key role in the concluding of this accord.321 Another revolt in 1889, however, led to the abrogation of these new privileges, which form the backdrop of what took place on the island on 1896, leading to the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897.322

The seeds of the war in 1897 were sown by the events of 1895-1896. Ever since the abrogation of the Halepa Accord, tensions between the Christians and Muslims on the island had been growing.323 In the midst of the Armenian massacres of 1895, Abdülhamid appointed a

Christian, Karatodori Pasha, as the governor of Crete in May 1895 with the hopes of pacifying the Christian population of the island and preempting any form of revolt against the central government. Even though Karatodori Pasha’s appointment was greeted positively by the Cretan

Christians, it led to discontent among the Muslim population of the island to the point that the

318 Kostopoulou, “The Muslim Millet,” 73-78; Adıyeke, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu, 21; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 78. 319 Kostopoulou, “The Muslim Millet,” 82; Adıyeke, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu, 25-26; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 93; Selim Sun, 1897 Osmanlı-Yunan Harbi (Ankara: Genelkurmay Basımevi, 1965), 12-14. 320 Kostopoulou, “The Muslim Millet,” 94-97; Adıyeke, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu, 27-28. 321 Tugay, Bir Aile Üç Asır, 34-35. 322 Kostopoulou, “The Muslim Millet,” 124-125; Adıyeke, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu, 33-38. 323 Kostopoulou, “The Muslim Millet,” 125-126.

97

local armed forces stopped obeying the orders of the governor and the island quickly became ungovernable. Facing this untenable situation and having failed to pacify the island, Karatodori

Pasha resigned in February 1896, and this time Abdülhamid replaced him with a Muslim governor, Turhan Pasha. Predictably, however, the appointment of a Muslim governor drew the ire of the Cretan Christians and led to mutual waves of violence between the local Christians and

Muslims in May 1896, resulting in multiple massacres in Candia and Chania.324

Events took on a new dimension in February 1897, when violence between the Christian and Muslim populations of Chania led the Christian insurgents to proclaim the unification of

Crete with Greece. The insurgents also asked for help from the king of Greece and even though the Greek government knew that it was in no position to go head to head with the Ottoman

Empire, the nationalist in the country proved too strong to resist. As a result, Greece sent troops to the island under the command of Vasos with the pretext of protecting the

Christian population of the island. The landing of the Greek troops on Crete in February 13 led to an uproar among the island’s Muslim population, who saw it as a clear breach of the Sultan’s sovereignty. More importantly, the actions of Greece caused alarm among the European powers, who decided to intervene, fearing that this conflict would spread to other areas of the . At the end of February, European powers landed forces on Crete and, on March 2, demanded that

Greece pull its forces back from Crete, while also giving an ultimatum to the Ottoman Empire to implement autonomous rule on the island under the Sultan’s sovereignty. While the Greek government refused to comply with the demands of the European powers, Sultan Abdülhamid accepted the intervention, with the reservation that the terms of autonomy would be discussed further. Meanwhile, Greek nationalist fervor reached new heights, demanding Crete’s unification

324 Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 462; Kostopoulou, “The Muslim Millet,” 127-31; Adıyeke, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu, 140-142.

98

with the mainland, and the Greeks kept massing their armed forces on their border with the

Ottoman Empire. The Ottoman government was aware of these movements and started to prepare for war, which the Ottoman Empire ended up declaring on Greece on 12 April 1897 after the Greek forces crossed over the Ottoman border.325

The war between the Ottoman Empire and Greece was a short one, lasting for about a month, and was fought mainly in the and region, in what are now northeastern and northwestern Greece, respectively. Going into war, Greece was not in a position to tackle the

Ottoman Empire militarily. The Ottoman army was better prepared and better equipped than the

Greek forces and this difference in strength proved to be enough for the Ottomans to defeat the

Greeks on almost all fronts of the war, forcing the Greek forces to retreat. Going into Greek , the Ottoman forces first took control of the Meluna Pass on 18 April and five days later seized the town of Tyrnavos from the Greeks. Later, the Ottomans proceeded towards Larissa, which they captured on 25 April. The Greek army was in full retreat at this point and the

Ottoman forces turned towards the Aegean coast with the hope of cutting the supply lines of the

Greeks. On May 6, the town of Pharsalos was taken by the Ottoman forces and on 8 May, Volo also fell into the Ottoman control, while the Greek army retreated towards Alymoros and

Domokos. By this time, it was obvious to the Greeks that they were going to be defeated; therefore, the new Greek foreign minister informed the European powers that the Greek government had recalled Colonel Vasos from Crete and that they were ready to accept Crete’s autonomy. The European powers, determined to keep the status quo, appealed to the Ottoman government for peace. The Ottomans, however, wanted to press their advantage. For this reason,

325 Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 462-463; Kostopoulou, “The Muslim Millet,” 9-10; Adıyeke, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu, 160-180, 185-188; Sun, 1897 Osmanlı-Yunan Harbi, 21-28; Mehmet Uğur Ekinci, “The Origins of the 1897 Ottoman-Greek War: A Diplomatic History,” Master’s Thesis, Bilkent University, Ankara, 2006, 22-48, 66-74.

99

Sultan Abdülhamid ordered commander Edhem Pasha to advance on Domokos, which was captured on 18 May. The next day, 19 May 1897, a ceasefire between the Ottoman and Greek forces was declared and the war came to an end.326

Even though the Ottoman Empire was victorious against Greece on the battlefield, the

European powers’ intervention in the war’s aftermath turned this victory into a diplomatic defeat.327 The European powers were intent on maintaining the status quo in the Balkans. On

May 14, the Ottomans announced their demands for ending the war. These demands included taking Thessaly back from Greece, a war indemnity of 10 million Ottoman liras and the abolition of the capitulations that had been granted by the Ottoman Empire to the Greek nationals. These terms, however, were deemed unacceptable by the European powers. Sultan Abdülhamid’s insistence on adding Thessaly to the Ottoman territory would mean a change of balance in the

Balkans, something that the European powers did not want. Moreover, the European powers were also against the abolition of the capitulations given to the Greeks since they were worried that it would set a precedent for the capitulations granted to their own nationals. In the end, according to the signed on 4 December 1897, Ottoman forces were to evacuate

Thessaly and leave it to Greece, while Greece was to pay 4 million Ottoman liras as war indemnity. The capitulations given to the Greek nationals also stayed intact.328 As for Crete, it was decided on 18 December that the island would be autonomous under the Sultan’s sovereignty and the custody of the European powers. Moreover, the European states (with the exception of and Austria) decided to appoint the Greek king’s son Prince George as the

326 Ekinci, “The Origins of the 1897 Ottoman-Greek War,” 82-86; Sun, 1897 Osmanlı-Yunan Harbi, 87-88, 94-98. 110-114, 115-115, 153-156,160-163, 173-206; Victor von Strantz, The Greco-Turkish War of 1897: From Official Sources/ by a German Staff Officer, trans. Frederica Bolton (London: Swan Sonnenschein, 1898), 121-125, 134-137, 143-148, 170-173, 182-185, 197, 208-213. 327 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 135-136; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 464; Adıyeke, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu, 189-190. 328 Ekinci, “The Origins of the 1897 Ottoman-Greek War,” 85-88; von Strantz, The Greco-Turkish War of 1897, 253-256; Sun, 1897 Osmanlı-Yunan Harbi, 261-263.

100

“High Commissioner” on the island.329 What these developments meant was that the island’s ties to the Empire became weakened and entirely symbolic while the way for Crete’s unification with

Greece became wide open.330

Crisis in Crete: Summer of 1896

After giving this overview of the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897, I will present three interrelated arguments. First, I will demonstrate that the Egyptian daily press paid very close attention to the developments on Crete in the summer of 1896 as well as the war that took place between the Ottoman Empire and Greece. This press coverage led to an outpouring of feelings of

“Ottomanness,” while a sense of Ottoman consciousness is also evident in the press items themselves. In connection with this point, I argue that Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt utilized this sense of Ottoman consciousness to discursively resist British imperialism, which became an extremely urgent matter after the British invasion of Egypt in 1882. I conclude that this outpouring of solidarity with the Ottoman Empire also led to an upsurge of “Ottoman consciousness” among the broader Egyptian population, evident in the donation collection efforts that took place in Egypt, first for helping the Muslim refugees from Crete and later on for the

Ottoman army during the war.

The summer of 1896 was “hot” in Crete in multiple senses of the word. From May onwards, tensions between Muslim and Christian Cretans started to rise, leading to massacres of members of one community by members of the other, while the Ottoman government and the

European powers were trying to find a solution to quell the violence and bring stability to the island. Two of the most important daily newspapers in Egypt, al-Ahrām and al-Mu’ayyad,

329 Adıyeke, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu, 197-212. 330 In her analysis, Kostopoulou goes against this view and argues that in 1898 it was not pre-determined that Crete would unify with Greece. Kostopoulou, “The Muslim Millet,” 315.

101

engaged with these events by reporting them to the Egyptian public and commenting on them in detail.

From July to September of 1896, reports on the developments on Crete were published in both of the newspapers almost daily. In addition to informing the Egyptian public of what was happening on the island, one of the most urgent themes that the daily Egyptian press was focusing on at this time was the condition of the Cretan Muslims. On July 7, for instance, the first article on the front page of al-Mu’ayyad was titled “Muslims on Crete.” In it, ‘Alī Yūsuf first gave some demographic information on the Muslims and Christians of the island, informing the readers that the Christians constituted the majority of Crete’s population. Then, he put forth that the Christians had been fighting the legitimate Ottoman government to get rid of the

Ottoman control and that they had been attacking and provoking Muslims so that the Muslims would retaliate and blood would be spilled, leading to European intervention on behalf of the

Christian Cretans. In the rest of the article, ‘Alī Yūsuf portrayed the Muslims as the victims of the aggression that had been perpetuated by the Christian insurgents on the island.331 Two weeks later, on , al-Mu’ayyad published a letter by one “Muṣtafa ibn Muḥammad Rushdī Ibn

Ḥusayn al-Kirīdlī.” The author identified himself as an officer in the Ottoman army and at the beginning of his letter, informed the reader that he was from Crete (as his name implies).

Indignant in tone, the letter lashed out against the news that al-Kirīdlī (or “el-Giridli” in Ottoman

Turkish) had been reading recently about new privileges that were to be granted to the Christian population of the island. Al-Kirīdlī lamented the fact that even though they had robbed Muslims, plundered their wealth, taken their property, and spilled their blood, Christian Cretans were being rewarded with new privileges, while the Muslims continued to suffer. Al-Mu’ayyad did not offer any commentary but the fact the newspaper published this letter suggests that ‘Alī Yūsuf

331 ‘Alī Yūsuf, “Al-muslimūn fī Kirīt” (Muslims on Crete), al-Mu’ayyad, 26 M 1314/7 July 1896, 1.

102

believed that the readers of al-Mu’ayyad would also be harboring similar views regarding the

Muslims of Crete.332 Two days later, another small piece ran on the same topic, titled “Situation in Crete, of Muslims by Christians.” Reminding the readers that the editors had recently published a letter from a Cretan officer in the Ottoman army, the paper mentioned a telegram quoted by of London, depicting the violence of the Christian insurgents against the Muslims. The article included reports on how the insurgents had burned down twenty villages near Rethymno and destroyed twelve mosques. This time ‘Alī Yūsuf offered his commentary and agreed with the Sultan’s view that the European states were waging a political

“” against the Ottoman Empire, while he also accused the European powers of encouraging and helping the insurgents on Crete.333

Al-Mu’ayyad continued to focus on the same topic in August, publishing articles and letters from Cretan Muslims, detailing the sufferings that Muslims were going through in

Crete.334 Another daily newspaper, al-Ahrām, also added to the debate publishing translations of articles, mostly from French, reporting on the condition of the Muslims, while also paying attention to the condition of the Muslim refugees, who had been displaced from their homes due to the insurgents’ violence.335 This focus on the plight of the Cretan Muslims led to the establishment of donation collection committees in Egypt, which I will analyze in more detail towards the end of the chapter.336 Suffice to say here that the formation of donation commissions throughout Egypt was one of the first and most important indications of how the attention paid to

332 Muṣtafā bin Muḥammad Rushdī Ibn Ḥusayn al-Kirīdlī, “Al-Shakwā ilā Allāh ta’ālā” (Complaint to God), al- Mu’ayyad, 10 S 1314/21 July 1896, 1. 333 “Al-ḥāla fī Kirīt” (The Situation on Crete), al-Mu’ayyad, 12 S 1314/ 23 July 1896, 3. 334 “Faẓā’i‘ al-Kirīdiyyīn wa mā yalāqī muslimū al-jazīra al-maṣā’ib” (Atrocities of Cretans and What Concerns the Muslims of the about the Calamities), al-Mu’ayyad, 3 Ra 1314/ 12 August 1896, 2.; “Faẓā’i‘ al- Kirīdiyyīn: mā yaṣīb muslimī al-jazīra min thā’iruhā” (Horrors of Cretans: What the Muslims of the Island are Sufferfing From its Insurgents), al-Mu’ayyad 4 Ra 1314/ 13 August 1896, 1. 335 “Kirīt” (Crete), al-Ahrām, 8 Ra 1314/ 17 August 1896, 2. 336 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Mu’ayyad, 25 S 1314/ 5 August 1896, 3.

103

the Cretan issue by Egyptian intellectuals triggered an upsurge of Ottoman consciousness in

Egypt.

At this point in the conflict, however, there was a more persistent framework demonstrating the Ottoman mentality in which the intellectuals in Egypt operated. These intellectuals had begun to perceive the crisis on Crete and the conflict between the Ottoman

Empire and Greece through the larger lens of European, and more specifically, British imperialism. As a result, they declared their support for the Ottoman Empire in various ways and identified themselves as Ottomans. As discussed above, while reporting on the violence that the

Cretan Muslims suffered at the hands of the Christian insurgents, the Egyptian intellectuals were accusing European powers of encouraging the insurgents and blaming them for the events on the island. More important, however, was what they wrote while they were analyzing the insurgency in Crete from a larger perspective.

One such article came in the July 28 issue of al-Mu’ayyad. ‘Alī Yūsuf started off by accusing the European states of inciting the Christian populations living in different provinces of the Ottoman Empire to rebel against the Ottoman government. The article argued that the fitnat

Girid (“insurgency of Crete”) was caused by foreign intrigues and did not start as a result of demands for reforms or removal of grievances because the Greek Cretans were living comfortably under the rule of His Majesty the Sultan. Later, the author put forth that the

European states were preventing the Ottoman government from suppressing the rebellion by force, while they did nothing to stop the insurgents’ violence against the Muslim population of

Crete.337

337 ‘Alī Yūsuf, “Iḏā sā’at al-‘āqiba fī Kirid” (If the Consequences in Crete Got Worse), al-Mu’ayyad, 17 S 1314/ 28 July 1896, 1.

104

Al-Mu’ayyad ran another article on the same topic on August 1, with the title “The

Ottoman Empire and Europe: In the Face of the Latest Developments.” The “latest developments” that ‘Alī Yūsuf was talking about were that both the European powers and the

Ottoman government had given Greece a diplomatic note. ‘Alī Yūsuf claimed that in this note the European powers threatened the Greeks with letting the Ottoman Empire suppress the insurgency by force if the Greeks did not adhere to the “counsel” or “advice” (naṣiḥa) of the

European governments. According to the author of the article, what this threat meant was that the

Ottoman Empire was actually capable of bringing back order to its land (qādira ‘alā i‘ādat al- niẓam fī bilādihi) but what stood in its way was the European powers. Therefore, he argued that this intervention by the European powers into the affairs of the Ottoman Empire was the main reason for the events on Crete. At the end, after stating that Europeans were behaving the same way they had done on the Armenian issue, ‘Alī Yūsuf made a call to all who consider themselves

Ottomans, and especially to the Muslims among them, to remember the injustices committed by the European states.338 This appeal to the “Ottomans” is indicative. It demonstrates the wider audience to whom the article was addressed, while also underlining the fact that the author still considered himself a part of the “Ottoman” community.

The last example of how al-Mu’ayyad framed the Cretan issue through the lens of

European imperialism comes in an article published on August 6. The article situated the Cretan issue within the general context of the uprisings that the Christian populations of the Ottoman

Empire had staged in different parts of the Empire since the beginning of the 19th century. The examples that ‘Alī Yūsuf cited were Greeks, , Romanians, and , while he argued that these Christian communities would not have been able to stage these

338 ‘Alī Yūsuf, “Al-dawla al-‘aliyya wa Urubbā: Bāzā’ al-ḥawādith al-akhīra” (The Ottoman Empire and Europe: In the Face of the Latest Events), al-Mu’ayyad, 21 S 1314/ 1 August 1896, 1.

105

rebellions or reach their aims without the help of the European powers. The main point that ‘Alī

Yūsuf was making in the article was that even though the position of the Europeans had changed with time, their main goal always remained the undermining of the Ottoman Empire. He emphasized this argument by repeating once again the words of Sultan Abdülhamid, about

Europe fighting a “political Crusade”, in the context of which the uprising in Crete was a part of these efforts to weaken the Empire.339

Similar to al-Mu’ayyad, al-Ahrām saw the developments on Crete through the lens of imperialism. Its target, however, was more specific. The editors of al-Ahrām, Bishāra and Salīm

Taqlā, distinguished between the European powers and singled out the British for the uprising that was taking place on Crete in the summer of 1896. In its August 4 issue, the paper transmited a report from the Reuter agency that the European powers, with the exception of Britain, wished to impose a naval blockade on the Cretans in order to prevent volunteers and weapons from

Greece from arriving on the island and to facilitate the suppression of fitna against the Ottoman government. The author argued that this report clearly demonstrated Britain's efforts at hampering "our" efforts, meaning the efforts of the Ottoman Empire, and in causing “us” harm while also disturbing the peace of the world. The author hoped that, God willing, Britain would not be able reach its goal, especially since the other Europeans states continued to adhere to the

“collective friendships.” Moreover, according to the author, this piece of news also proved that

England was the one that was working towards disturbing the international relations and that it was “our arch enemy.” On the other hand, the author of al-Ahrām described France and Russia as the friends of the Ottoman Empire.340 What this example demonstrates is how al-Ahrām singled out Britain as the main source of trouble in Crete. It provides an early example of how

339 ‘Alī Yūsuf, “Al-dawla al-‘aliyya bāzā’ Urubbā wa al-thā’irīn” (The Ottoman Empire in the Face of Europe and the Insurgents), al-Mu’ayyad, 26 S 1314/ 6 August 1896, 1. 340 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Ahrām, 24 S 1314/ 4 August 1896, 2.

106

the intellectuals in Egypt utilized the Cretan issue to engage and resist British imperialism, which became an urgent issue for them after 1882. Equally importantly, the language used in the article clearly demonstrates how the author identified himself with the Ottoman Empire. In light of what has been presented so far, it must also be noted that this identification with the Ottoman Empire was stronger in al-Ahrām than in al-Mu’ayyad.

As was stated above, the owners of al-Ahrām chose to side with France after the British occupation of Egypt in 1882. This is evident in the fact that throughout the crisis in the summer of 1896, they published translations of articles that were first published in the French newspapers on the Cretan issue. The tone of these articles was, not surprisingly, anti-British. On August 8, for example, al-Ahrām reported on an article published in a Paris newspaper. According to the editors of al-Ahrām, the article, titled “Egypt and Crete,” claimed that the British occupation and control of Egypt and their refusal to evacuate it had opened the way for disregarding all pacts and covenants in European politics; thus the violence in Crete was a result of these actions on

Britain’s part.341 The fact that al-Ahrām chose to report on this article, which analyzed the uprising in Crete through the lens of the “Egyptian Question,” is important in understanding how the editors of the newspaper perceived the Cretan issue.

In addition to the French press, commentaries from other European newspapers were also translated and transmitted to readers in Egypt through al-Ahrām. On 12 August, al-Ahrām published a collection of commentaries from the German press on how Britain was acting on its own and not complying with the agreements of other European powers in order to suppress the revolt in Crete. According to the German press, this behavior on Britain’s part posed a threat to the general peace in Europe. Al-Ahrām underlined the fact that the German papers claimed that while Britain had been an ally of the Ottoman Empire before, its stance towards the Ottoman

341 “Miṣr wa Kirīt” (Egypt and Crete), al-Ahrām, 28 S 1314/ 8 August 1896, 2.

107

Empire had changed, and it was refusing to help restore order in Crete because the British policymakers desired the partition of the Ottoman Empire. At the end of this article the al-Ahrām editors figuratively nodded their heads in agreement with the views presented in the German newspapers, putting forth that they had nothing to add (wa lasnā nazīd ‘alayhi ḥarfan).342

The owners of al-Ahrām also published what would today be called editorials on the

Crete issue on the front page of the newspaper. On August 19, for instance, Bishāra Taqlā wrote an article on Britain and Crete. Similar in tone to the views stated above, Bishāra Bey’s article argued that Britain’s past actions in the Armenian and the Egyptian questions provided a blueprint its policies on the Cretan issue. Bishāra Bey accused Britain of inciting uprisings within the Ottoman Empire in order to undermine and partition it; he used commentaries from the European, and especially the German, press to back up his argument. Bishāra Bey explained that the newspaper was reporting on what these European newspapers were putting forth as examples so that al-Ahrām readers would know that their own views (al-Ahrām's) claiming that the driving force behind Britain's policies was the destruction (ḍiyā‘) of the Ottoman Empire (al- mamlaka al-‘uthmāniyya) and the loss of the Muslims' patriotic and national rights (ḥuqūq al- muslimīn al-qawmiyya wa al-milliya) were not an exception.343

Salīm Taqlā joined his brother in blaming Britain for the troubles that the Ottoman

Empire was facing in Crete. Salīm Bey first reported on what the newspapers in England had been saying about the Cretan issue, arguing that these articles were indicative of what Britain actually wanted to achieve in Crete. The articles that al-Ahrām quoted, mostly from the newspaper “Standard,” implied that the Cretan Christians desired British protection. Salīm Bey concluded that what the British papers were putting forth was proof of Britain’s desire to take

342 “Kirīt” (Crete), al-Ahrām, 3 Ra 1314/ 12 August 1896, 1. 343 Bishāra Taqlā, “Faransā” (France), al-Ahrām, 10 Ra 1314/ 19 August 1896, 1.

108

Crete away from the Ottoman Empire. According to Salīm Bey, the British wanted to annex

Crete and in order to do so, they falsely claimed that even if they did occupy the island, they would give it to Greece. The other European powers, such as France, Russia, and Germany, opposed Britain’s plans since the British actions would mean violating the sovereignty of the

Sultan on the island. Later on in the article, talking about the end of the conflict, Salīm Taqlā mentioned how the Sultan had granted the Cretans privileges similar to the ones that had been given to and Lebanon, which would bring the rebellion to an end but allow the island to remain Ottoman territory. Importantly, at the end of the article, Salīm Bey made an appeal for additional reforms to be instituted within the Ottoman Empire in order to prevent further rebellions from taking place.344

Yaqūb Ṣannūʿ’s Abū Naẓẓāra also contributed to the debate with a cartoon that sharply criticized British imperialism through the Cretan issue, while also evoking a sense of Ottoman consciousness. The cartoon depicts fires raging in the background in various places, marked

“Anatolia,” “Syria,” “Arabia,” “,” and “Crete.” In front of these fires stand figures representing France and Russia on the left, John Bull, “the caricatured Englishman,” as Gendzier puts it,345 in the middle; and Ottoman firefighters on the right. Ṣannūʿ made these figures talk through dialogues. At the beginning of the scene, John Bull is very content about these fires going on in various places of the Ottoman Empire, stating that they will enable him to implement his schemes in Sudan. When the Ottoman firefighters try to put out the fires, however, he protests, and asks them why they are doing it. The firefighters ask John Bull whether he would like their houses to burn and John Bull responds that their houses are moldy and uncomfortable, anyway, and that he will build them new houses. The Ottoman firefighters become angry, calling

344 Salīm Taqlā, “Al-Iskandariyya: Naẓra ‘āmma” (: Public View), al-Ahrām, 18 Ra 1314/ 27 August 1896, 1. 345 Gendzier, The Practical Visions, 37.

109

John Bull an “enemy of humanity” and telling him that they like their country and their sovereign. They accuse John Bull of starting these fires and when he protests, they claim that even if John Bull did not start the fires himself, he protects and encourages the incendiaries. At this point the French and Russian figures enter into the scene, warning John Bull that his intrigues are not deceiving anyone and that instead of trying to prevent these “brave firefighters” from doing their job, he should do what he promised, and evacuate Egypt.346

This cartoon perfectly depicts Ṣannūʿ’s view of Britain when it came to the Cretan issue.

He argued that Britain was behind many of the troubles that the Ottoman Empire was facing, including on Crete, while he demonstrated solidarity with the Ottoman Empire and the Sultan.

What is also relevant is that Ṣannūʿ used this opportunity to criticize Britain for the occupation of

Egypt, providing a good example of how Egyptian intellectuals utilized the issue of Crete to resist British imperialism.

The uprising in Crete came to an end at the end of August 1896. As a result of the diplomatic pressure by the European states, the Ottoman government agreed to reinstate the

Halepa Accord, which has been abrogated in 1889, while also granting new privileges to the island. These new privileges included provision that the governor of the island would be a

Christian, elected with the approval of the European powers, and limiting the movement of the

Ottoman troops on the island in time of peace.347 With this new agreement, an uneasy calm was established on the island although, as will be seen, the agreement did not offer a permanent solution to the Cretan issue. As a result, the issue lost its urgency for the Egyptian daily press in

346 “Prends garde de t’y bruler les doigts. John Bull; on ne joue pas avec le feu!” (Be Careful Not to Burn Your Fingers. John Bull; One Does Not Play With Fire), Abū Naẓẓāra, 15 S 1314/ 25 July 1896, 4. 347 Pınar Şenışık, Girit: Siyaset ve İsyan, 1895-1898 (İstanbul: Kitap Yayınevi, 2014), 157-163; Adıyeke, Osmanlı İmparatorluğu, 152-160.

110

the fall and winter of 1896, even though articles on British imperialism in the Ottoman Empire continued to appear.

This section of the chapter has focused on the Cretan uprising of 1896, which was one of the key events leading to the war between Ottoman Empire and Greece in 1897. Two of the most important daily newspapers in Egypt were following the uprising in Crete closely, reporting on developments, while also providing the readers their own analysis. More importantly, a sense of solidarity with the Ottoman Empire, or a sense of “Ottoman consciousness” can be seen in their writings. In addition, the newspapers al-Mu’ayyad and al-Ahrām, utilized the Cretan issue to criticize and resist the British imperialism, which became urgent after the British occupation of

Egypt in 1882. Their reaction to the Cretan uprising heavily colored their approach to the

Ottoman-Greek War of 1897, which also allowed them to display an Ottoman consciousness.

The Ottoman-Greek War of 1897

At the beginning of 1897, the fragile peace that reigned on Crete after Sultan Abdülhamid had granted new privileges to the island in August of the previous year, once again shattered into pieces. In February 1897 tensions in Crete started to rise again. While the Christian insurgents declared unification of the island with mainland Greece, the Greek government decided to back the insurgents openly by sending troops to the island. As a result, the European forces occupied

Crete and gave to both Greece and the Ottoman Empire in order to solve the issue.

Their efforts would prove futile, however, and the two countries would eventually go to war in

April 1897.

As was the case with the crisis in the summer of 1896, intellectuals in Egypt followed these developments closely. They analyzed the events through the lens of European, and specifically British, imperialism, and displayed an Ottoman consciousness in their writing. Now

111

however, the intellectuals underlined the fact that the issue of Crete was a part of the larger

“Eastern Question,” which included the situation in Egypt. Once the war started, the newspapers reported on it daily, giving the readers accounts of the battles that have been going on and the victories that the Ottoman armies were winning in the field. The language that they used in reporting these developments demonstrates their identification with the Ottoman state. Moreover, as the war came to an end, the intelligentsia in Egypt once again criticized the intervention of

European states, striking an indignant tone while also calling for the Sultan to use the victory against Greece in order to solve the “Egyptian Question.”

As the situation on Crete started to escalate in February 1897, articles that analyzed the new crisis started to appear in the Egyptian press. An early example of these articles was published in al-Ahrām on 25 February 1897. The author argued that the main reasons for the most recent uprising in Crete was Britain’s desire to disturb the peace in the East while threatening the European powers with war, in addition to Greece’s fear that the reforms introduced on the island in August 1896 would be successful, which would hamper Greece’s efforts to annex the island.348 A more detailed analysis along the same lines came in March. In this piece, al-Ahrām accused Britain of being favoring a war between the Ottoman Empire and

Greece since, the author explained, Britain was the only country that would profit from a war between the two countries.349 Al-Mu’ayyad also ran an article with a similar tone, written by one of its readers. The article analyzed the recent developments in Crete and accused Britain of devising “intrigues” in order to light the fire of fitna in Crete and undermine the Ottoman

Empire.350

348 “Al-Iskandariyya” (Alexandria), al-Ahrām, 23 N 1314/ 25 February 1897, 1. 349 “Al-Iskandariyya” (Alexandria), al-Ahrām, 5 L 1314/ 9 March 1897, 1. 350 ‘Alī Yūsuf, “Dasā’is al-Inkilīz” (British Intrigues), al-Mu’ayyad, 19 N 1314/ 21 February 1897, 1.

112

As the crisis grew more heated, identification with the Ottoman Empire became more pronounced in the daily Egyptian papers. In an article that was published in al-Mu’ayyad on

February 28 on how the Greeks were escalating tensions and considering going to war with the

Ottoman Empire, ‘Alī Yūsuf took a condescending tone towards Greece, putting forth that they were hearing rumors that “this small country” (hāḏihī al-dawla al-ṣaghīra) intended to go to war against “our sublime state” (“dawlatnā al-‘aliyya”), and labeling this intention as “ignorance.”

The article also accused Britain of helping or promising to help Greece against “our sublime state,” once again taking the opportunity to criticize British imperialism against the Ottoman

Empire.351 In another article that ran in al-Mu’ayyad on 8 March about how Greece wanted to annex the island of Crete to its own territory, the Ottoman Empire was again described as “our sublime state” (“dawlatnā al-‘aliyya”) while the article stated confidently that “our state is great

[and] strong.”352 Similarly, in another piece describing the Ottoman Empire’s preparations for war, ‘Alī Yūsuf began by stating how al-Mu’ayyad was going to report on the latest news coming from the capital of “our Ottoman kingdom” (akhbar ‘āṣima mamlakatnā al-

‘uthmāniyya).353 These phrases need to be emphasized because they provide good examples of how Ottoman consciousness was on the rise at this time in Egypt. ‘Alī Yūsuf described the

Ottoman Empire as “our” exalted state, demonstrating how he identified with the Ottoman

Empire.

Articles in al-Ahrām also provide case studies for the rise of Ottoman consciousness among the intelligentsia in Egypt. The head article in the 11 March 1897 issue of al-Ahrām described how European countries were pushing for reforms on Crete, which, the author claimed,

351 ‘Alī Yūsuf, “Al-Iskandariyya” (Alexandria), al-Mu’ayyad, 26 N 1314/ 28 February 1897, 1-2. 352 ‘Alī Yūsuf, “Al-Iskandariyya” (Alexandria), al-Mu’ayyad, 4 L 1314/ 8 March 1897, 1. 353 ‘Alī Yūsuf, “Al-Iskandariyya: Al-Akhbār al-akhīra” (Alexandria: Latest News), al-Mu’ayyad, 12 L 1314/ 16 March 1897, 1.

113

did not bring stability to the island. The more important point, however, is that the author referred to the Ottoman Empire with phrases such as “our country” (baladnā) while also referring to himself (and the readers) as “we Ottomans” (naḥnu al-‘uthmāniyyīn).354

Considering the importance of the press in shaping public opinion, the framing of the discussion on the approaching Ottoman-Greek War as an “Ottoman issue” and reporting it that way to the Egyptian public is a good indication of how Ottoman mentality continued to exist among the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt and among the Egyptian public at large. The fact that this sense of Ottoman consciousness had a counterpart in the Egyptian population became most obvious in the efforts to collect donations for the Ottoman army, which will be discussed in the final part of this chapter. The positive reaction of the Egyptian population was interpreted by the members of the Arabic-speaking intelligentsia in Egypt as proof of Egyptians’

“support for and inclination” towards the Ottoman Empire.355

In addition to the daily newspapers, influential periodicals in Egypt were reported on the developments in the crisis between the Ottoman Empire and Greece. Jurji Zaydān’s al-Hilāl, for instance, published a brief report on the escalating tensions in Crete in its “Foreign News” section on 15 February 1897356 while giving information on the military strength of the two powers in its April 1 issue. This last piece is actually worth emphasizing since it was a response to a question coming from a reader named Khalil Ibrahim Efendi, indicating the fact that the

Egyptian public was taking an active interest in the matter.357 Moreover, true to its claim of being a cultural periodical, al-Hilāl informed its readers of the conflict’s historical perspective, giving

354 “Al-Iskandariyya” (Alexandria), al-Ahrām, 7 L 1314/ 11 March 1897, 1. 355 Jurjī Zaydān, “Al- Ḥawādith al-Miṣriyya: Lajnat al-‘iāna al-‘askariyya” (Egyptian News: Committee of Military Aid), al-Hilāl, 29 L 1314/ 1 April 1897, 33. 356 Jurjī Zaydān, “Al-Ḥawādith al-khārijiyya: Kirīd” (Foreign News: Crete), al-Hilāl, 13 N 1314/ 15 February 1897, 33. 357 Jurjī Zaydān, “Quwwāt al-Yūnān” (Armed Forces of Greece), al-Hilāl, 29 L 1314/ 1 April 1897, 21.

114

a detailed history of Crete and Ottoman control over it.358 On the whole, al-Hilāl was more measured in tone compared to the dailies al-Mu’ayyad and al-Ahrām.

Ṣannūʿ, on the other hand, did not hold back in his criticisms of the British imperialism while presenting his views on the crisis that gradually led to war between the Ottoman Empire and Greece. Abū Naẓẓāra’s 25 April 1897 issue featured cartoon on the most recent Cretan crisis, with dialogues between the figures written underneath. The cartoon depicts an old lady, called

Albion and representing Britain, on the left with a fishing rod in her hands, trying to catch a fish labeled "Crete." John Bull is in the swimming towards the fish, with a “”

(“[Egyptian Peasant]”) figure directly behind him, pressing on his shoulders as if trying to drown him. On the far right stands a figure labeled “Indian,” with an anxious look on his face. The dialogue begins with Albion telling John Bull to push the fish towards her while John Bull responds that it is difficult to do so since it is Crete and the eyes of the European powers are on it. Not satisfied with his answer, Albion tells John Bull to sneak past the European powers while they are wasting time with international conferences. At this point, the Fellah joins the dialogue and tries to understand the scene in front of him. The Indian explains to him that Albion and

John Bull are enemies of both his and the Fellah’s countries. When the Fellah asks the Indian whether John Bull and Albion are planning an evil deed again, the Indian responds in the affirmative, asserting that the figures representing Britain are trying to lay their hands on Crete as they have already done to Egypt, , and . The Indian claims that the British are trying to make the Mediterranean an “English lake,” and seize all the islands between the

Strait of Gibraltar and the Suez Canal. At this point, the Fellah gets angry and decides to teach

John Bull a lesson by trying to drown him. Meanwhile, Albion is excited that Crete is about to take the bait, but at the last moment Fellah’s struggle with John Bull leads the fish labeled

358 Jurjī Zaydān , “Jazīra Kirīd” (The Island of Crete), al-Hilāl, 13 Za 1314/ 15 April 1897, 8-14.

115

“Crete” to break free of the fishing line. Albion is furious with the Fellah while the Indian congratulates him for his vigilance, which concludes the scene.359

This cartoon is important for a number of reasons. The first point to emphasize is the fact that Ṣannūʿ perceived the issue of Crete through the larger perspective of British imperialism. He drew parallels between what the British were doing in Crete and what they had been doing in

Egypt since they occupied it in 1882. Finally, it is interesting to note that it was through

“Fellah’s” intervention that Crete escapes the clutches of the British figures in the cartoon. It may be put forth that with this scene, Ṣannūʿ also underlined Egypt’s and the Egyptian population’s support for the Ottoman Empire, demonstrating the prevalence of an Ottoman mentality in Egypt at this time.

The war between the Ottoman Empire and Greece finally became inevitable as a result of border transgressions by the Greek forces in the Thessaly region, leading to the Ottoman declaration of war on 12 April 1897. As stated above, Ottoman armies were successful on the battlefield against the Greek forces, capturing Larissa on , Pharsalos on May 6, Volo on

May 8 and Domokos on May 18.360 These victories reverberated in the Arabic-language press in

Egypt and caused the feeling of Ottoman consciousness to reach new heights.

As the war progressed, al-Ahrām was reported on the developments in a new section called “War News.” On 29 April 1897, after mentioning the retreat of the Greek forces and the advance of the Ottoman army, the paper turned its attention towards the attitude of the Egyptians towards the Ottoman Empire, asserting that the Egyptians stood together with "their exalted state" and showed these feelings with their loyalty and assistance. In the next paragraph, al-

359 “La pêche défendue” (No Fishing), Abu Naẓẓāra, 23 Za 1314/ 25 April 1897, 4. 360 Ekinci, “The Origins of the 1897 Ottoman-Greek War,” 82-86; Sun, 1897 Osmanlı-Yunan Harbi, 87-88, 94-98. 110-114, 115-115, 153-156,160-163, 173-206; von Strantz, The Greco-Turkish War of 1897, 121-125, 134-137, 143-148, 170-173, 182-185, 197, 208-213; Şenışık, Girit: Siyaset ve İsyan, 203-205.

116

Ahrām responded to the claims published in British newspapers that the Ottoman-Greek War proved the link between the Ottoman Empire and Egypt to be weak. The article disagreed with this argument, claiming that the war actually proved the nature of Egypt's close relationship with the Ottoman Empire: Egypt cut its political relationship with Greece, and the Egyptian people demonstrated their attachment to the office of the caliph in various ways, including collecting donations and supporting the sultanate.361

On May 4, al-Ahrām reported the capture of Larissa by the Ottoman forces: “Our victorious soldiers entered the city of …,” the article began. In the “War News” section on the second page, there was another report on how the Ottoman army kicked the Greeks out of

Thessaly. The words used to depict the Ottoman army were similar to the verbiage on the front page: the author referred to the Ottoman forces as “our soldiers” throughout the article. The piece also included sentences such as “It is wonderful to say that the Ottoman army is in the heart of the Greek lands right now…” (Ajmal al-qawl ānna al-jaysh al-‘uthmānī aṣbah alān fī qalb al- balad al-yūnāniyya”).362

As the war was drawing to a close in mid-May, the issue of Thessaly continued to loom large on al-Ahrām’s agenda. In an article published on May 18, the Taqlā brothers, defining themselves as “we Ottomans,” discussed whether the Ottoman Empire should add the Thessaly region to “our territories” (amlaknā). Their response was negative since they argued that it would be better for the Ottoman Empire to preserve what it had and implement reforms rather than trying to expand its territory.363 Once again, it is worth emphasizing the strong identification with the Ottoman Empire in these articles. Moreover, in a missive that he sent to London, Cromer informed Lord Salisbury, who was the British Prime Minister at the time, that the official

361 “Akhbār al-ḥarb” (War News), al-Ahrām, 27 Za 1314/ 29 April 1897, 2. 362 “Akhbār al-ḥarb” (War News), al-Ahrām, 2 Z 1314/ 4 May 1897, 2. 363 “Al-Iskandariyya” (Alexandria), al-Ahrām, 16 Z 1897/ 18 May 1897, 1.

117

Egyptian gazette had reported on the message of congratulations that the Khedive had sent to the

Sultan on the capture of Larissa.364

Interest in the war was also strong within the Egyptian society at large. Al-Hilāl’s 1 May

1897 issue provides an excellent example of how this interest was manifested. A reader named

Sabā‘i Khalīl pointed out that it was the duty of the Muslims to support the Amīr al-

Mu’minīn (the Caliph) by every means possible, yet asked Jurjī Zaydān whether it was justified for the Ottoman Empire ("Sublime State") to recruit Egyptian soldiers into its army.365 This question is important since it demonstrates that there was still an attachment to the Ottoman

Empire through the caliph, yet there was also a growing sense of detachment from the Ottoman

Empire to the degree that the reader was questioning the right of the Ottoman Empire to demand troops from Egypt.

Zaydān’s reply to the question is also indicative of the Ottoman consciousness that was still prevalent in Egypt at the time. Zaydān started by reiterating the fact that officially Egypt was still one of the provinces of the Ottoman Empire even though he also stressed that Egypt had some special rights, including the fact that the governorship of Egypt was granted to the family of Mehmed Ali. Zaydān argued, however, that there was nothing in those privileges that made the Egyptian soldiers "independent" of the Ottoman army. On the contrary, he emphasized the fact that the Egyptian forces were a branch of the Ottoman army, since their niẓam was the same as the niẓam of the Ottoman army and the ranks were given out in the name of the Sultan.

Therefore, Zaydān concluded, there was no doubt about the relationship of the Egyptian soldiers

364 The National Archives, Kew, United Kingdom (hereafter TNA), FO 78/4863, No.69, Cromer to Salisbury, 30 April 1897. 365 “Bāb al-su’āl wa al-iktirāḥ: Junūd Miṣr wa al-Dawla al-‘Aliyya” (Section of Question and Proposal: Soldiers of Egypt and the Sublime State), al-Hilāl, 29 Za/ 1 May 1897, 19-20.

118

as regards to the Ottoman military. For further explanations in this topic, he cited the fermans

(imperial edicts) issued by the Bab-ı Ali.366

When the war ended with a clear victory for the Ottoman Empire, the mood in Egypt was jubilant. The “Local News” section of al-Ahrām’s 25 May 1897 issue ran a piece on the

Egyptian population’s efforts to collect money in order to buy a gift for Edhem Pasha, who “led our Ottoman soldiers to victory,” and whom the article described as the “Hero of Thessaly”

(baṭal Tasalya). The article stated that the editors were happy to see the Egyptian population’s interest in this endeavor, and called for people of Alexandria to join this “patriotic subscription”

(al-iktitāb al-waṭanī).367 This interest in Edhem Pasha was also evident in al-Hilāl, where

Zaydān published a picture of him in the front page of the journal’s June 1 issue, labeling him as a “great commander” (al-qā’id al-‘aẓīm) while also giving a brief overview of his life.368

Reporting on the Muslim new year, al-Ahrām published an article, stating that the Muslims all over the world were celebrating the new year, while also thanking God for the recent victory of the Ottoman Empire and the Sultan. Speaking on behalf of the Egyptians, the author also extended their congratulations to the Sultan.369 Finally, Ṣannūʿ joined the chorus of congratulations from Paris. In a cartoon depicting the Ottoman Empire as a lion, Ṣannūʿ wrote that the intrepid “Ottoman Lion” had planted his on after defeating his enemies. The cartoon shows the “Ottoman Lion” sitting on top of Mount Olympus, while in front of him are the Great Powers’ representatives, who are there to offer their congratulations to the victorious lion. While being magnanimous and forgiving towards the others, including the

Greeks, the “Ottoman Lion” chastises the British representative, accusing him of committing evil

366 Ibid. 367 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Ahrām, 23 Z 1314/ 25 May 1897, 2. 368 “Al-Mushīr Adham Bāshā: Qā’id al-junūd al-‘uthmāniyya fī ḥarb al-Yūnān al-akhīra” (Marshal Edhem Pasha: Commander of the Ottoman Soldiers in the Latest Greek War), al-Hilāl, 1 M 1315/ 1 June 1897, 1-2. 369 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Ahrām, 1 M 1315/ 1 June 1897, 3.

119

deeds in Anatolia, Syria and Arabia, and Egypt, and encouraging the Cretan Greeks to take up arms. In the end, however, the “Ottoman Lion” pardons Britain as well, while also thanking him for giving him the opportunity to demonstrate that he is not sick but strong and capable of defending his rights.370

Despite this jubilant mood, a more serious discussion was also taking place among the intellectuals of Egypt after the Ottoman victory. The press argued that the Sultan should use the victory against Greece to put pressure on the European states to obtain a permanent solution to the Egyptian Question. To be more explicit, they wanted the Sultan to use the gains made by the

Ottoman Empire in Thessaly as leverage for demanding that the British evacuate Egypt. A good example for this line of reasoning came in the 5 June 1897 issue of al-Ahrām, in its “Miṣr” section. Here, the author argued that the latest war against the Greeks had resulted in some advantages for the Ottoman Empire, both material and otherwise. He mentioned how the

Ottoman army was restored to glory while also gaining territory, referring to the Ottoman gains made in the Thessaly region. What he was most concerned with, however, was that the latest war was also important for resolving the Egyptian issue, which he described as "the most important problem that we have because Egypt is the heart of the Sultanate.” In the next paragraph, the author stated that the Ottoman Empire should not be too strict with the European states on the issue of Thessaly. Instead, the author argued, this easy-going manner should be a condition for solving the Egyptian issue by protecting the interests of the Ottoman state and the Egyptian khedivate as well as guaranteeing its rights. The author also indicated that he was confident that the European states would accept this offer, basing this view on an article published in a Russian newspaper that, the author claimed, represented the views of the Russian government. According to al-Ahrām, this Russian article maintained that the situation in Egypt was against international

370 “Félicitations amicales” (Friendly Congratulations), Abū Naẓẓāra, [28] Z 1314/ 25 May 1897, 4.

120

law and the and should be resolved, meaning that the British occupation there should come to an end.371 What is important to consider here is that the author utilized the issue of the Ottoman-Greek war to press his case for the solution of the "Egyptian question.”

Moreover, both an Ottoman collective mentality and an Egyptian collective mentality are clearly evident in this piece. The tone of the article is positive towards the victory of the Ottoman

Empire against the Greeks and the phrases he used also bolster this view. Nevertheless, the author also calls for a solution to the problem in Egypt, which, he insisted, should be achieved by protecting the interests of both the Ottoman state and the khedivate. Al-Ahrām returned to this theme again on July 17. Reporting on the peace negotiations between the Ottoman Empire,

Greece and the European powers, al-Ahrām claimed that the Sultan would utilize the war’s

“good results in the service of the Egyptian Question” and that Germany also supported this idea.372

In addition to the owners of al-Ahrām, the most important and vocal proponent of utilizing the Ottoman gains in Thessaly as leverage in the Egyptian Question was Muṣṭafā

Kāmil, the most prominent figure of Egyptian nationalism at the time. In an article titled “We and the Greeks” that appeared in the Greek paper Phare, published in Egypt,373 Muṣṭafā Kāmil analyzed the “Egyptian Question” through the lens of the Ottoman-Greek War. He argued that the victory of the Ottoman Empire gave the Sultan the opportunity to press for a solution to the

Egyptian issue. Kāmil put forth that solving the problem between Turkey and Greece concerned not only the two warring states but also the European powers. According to him, in the current circumstances the Sultan had the opportunity to solve the Egyptian issue by demanding that the

371 “Miṣr” (Egypt), al-Ahrām, 5 M 1315/ 5 June 1897, 2. 372 “Al-Iskandariyya” (Alexandria), al-Ahrām, 17 S 1315/ 17 July 1897, 2. 373 Alexander Kazmias, “Cromer’s Assault on ‘Internationalism’: British Colonialism and the Greeks of Egypt, 1882-1907,” in The Long 1890s in Egypt: Colonial Quiescence, Subterranean Resistance, eds. Marilyn Booth and Anthony Gorman (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2014), 273.

121

British evacuate Egypt, in return for which the Ottomans would comply with the European powers’ demands and remove the Ottoman troops from Thessaly.374 Kāmil reiterated this theme in a passionate speech against the British occupation that he delivered in Alexandria on 3 June

1897. Here, Kāmil praised the Ottoman Empire, while also emphasizing the support shown for the Ottoman Empire by the Egyptian population during the Ottoman-Greek War. He defined the

Ottoman victory against Greece as a victory against the machinations of the British, adding that the Ottoman Empire’s cooperation with Germany would signify great benefits for Egypt in the future, meaning the solution of the Egyptian issue in favor of the Ottoman Empire. At the end of the speech, Kāmil suggested that the audience petition the Sultan for him to work with the

European powers to put an end to the British occupation of Egypt.375 According to ‘Alī Fahmi,

Muṣṭafā Kāmil’s brother,376 this proposal was received very enthusiastically by the audience as they signed and sent the petition to the Sultan from Alexandria on 8 June 1897.377 In a letter that he addressed to ‘Alī Fahmi on 19 June 1897, Kāmil further explained what he meant by arguing that the Ottoman victory against Greece was a victory against the British while describing the

Ottoman victory as “one of the best opportunities” for solving the Egyptian Question.378

In fact, the British officials were also aware of this rising sense of solidarity with the

Ottoman Empire and what it meant for the British occupation. Lord Cromer, for instance, argued that the “Turkish success in Greece has given a considerable stimulus to the small but influential ultra-Moslem party which is hostile to the British occupation.”379 About two weeks later, Cromer

374 Muṣṭafā Kāmil, Awrāq Muṣṭafa Kāmil: al-maqālāt (Papers of Muṣtafa Kāmil: The Articles) (Cairo: al-Hay’ah al- Miṣriyya al-‘Ammah lil Kitāb, 1986), 248-255. 375 Muṣṭafā Kāmil, Awrāq Muṣṭafa Kāmil: al-khuṭab (Papers of Muṣtafa Kāmil: The Speeches) (Cairo: al-Hay’ah al- Miṣriyya al-‘Ammah lil Kitāb, 1984), 132-154. 376 Mohamed Anouar Moghira, Moustapha Kamel L’Égyptien (1874-1908): L’homme et l’oœuvre (Paris: L’Harmattan, 2007), 17. 377 ‘Alī Fahmi Kāmil, Muṣṭafā Kāmil Bāshā fī 34 Rabi‘ān, Vol. 6 (Cairo: Maṭba‘at al-Liwā’, 1908-1910), 50-51. 378 Ibid., 56. 379 TNA, FO 78/4863, No.79, Cromer to Salisbury, 28 May 1897.

122

sent Lord Salisbury a copy of a speech given by Muṣṭafā Kāmil, emphasizing how Kāmil argued that the victory of the Ottomans was a victory against the British intrigues.380

The hopes of Muṣṭafā Kāmil and the intelligentsia of Egypt were dashed, however, when the Ottoman Empire had to evacuate Thessaly as a result of the peace treaty that was signed on 4

December 1897, concluding the war between the Ottoman Empire and Greece. As I have demonstrated, the war and its immediate aftermath led to an upsurge of Ottoman consciousness among the intellectuals of Egypt. They were following the developments, leading up to and during the war, very closely, reporting on them in detail. Moreover, they viewed the conflict through the lens of imperialism, accusing Britain of trying to take control of Crete as it had taken control of Egypt. When the Ottoman armies defeated the Greek forces, the tone of their writings was jubilant, while the language that they used demonstrated their identification with the

Ottoman Empire.

Ottoman Consciousness within Egyptian Society: The Iane (Donation) Collection Efforts

The Cretan Crisis of 1896

In addition to leading the members of the intelligentsia in Egypt to express their sense of solidarity with the Ottoman Empire and to discursively resist British imperialism, the Cretan crisis of 1896 and the Ottoman-Greek War of the following year also represented a moment, in which the Ottoman consciousness became evident within Egyptian society at large. This upsurge of Ottoman consciousness and solidarity with the Ottoman Empire can most clearly be observed in the donation collection efforts that took place not only in the urban centers such as Cairo or

Alexandria, but all over Egypt, and that witnessed the participation of different sections of

Egyptian society in the war effort. These campaigns to collect donations for the Ottoman troops also provided a way for the Egyptian people to “perform” their Ottoman consciousness since the

380 TNA, FO 78/4863, No. 86. Cromer to Salisbury, 12 June 1897.

123

Egyptians wrote to the daily newspapers and actively demanded that their names be included in the donors’ lists that were being published in al-Ahrām and al-Mu’ayyad.

One of the first examples of a donation collection campaign came during the crisis on

Crete in the summer of 1896. On 5 August 1896, al-Mu’ayyad reported that Cretan Muslims in

Alexandria were collecting donations and had asked Ahmed Muhtar Pasha to be the honorary president of the donation collection committee. Even though Muhtar Pasha applauded them for their efforts and gave them forty guineas, he refused their offer on the grounds that it was not a joint venture between Muslims and Christians but that Christians and Muslims were collecting donations separately for their own communities. After reporting on this meeting, al-Mu’ayyad also made a call for Egyptians to contribute to this donation collection drive.381

Once this effort to collect donations for the afflicted Muslims on Crete was under way, al-Mu’ayyad became its chief advocate. On several occasions in August, al-Mu’ayyad reported on the progress of the donation collection,382 as well as publishing letters coming from Cretan

Muslims, who were living in Egypt, thanking their “Egyptian brothers” for their assistance.383

What is more significant is that on its August 16 issue, al-Mu’ayyad announced that it would be starting its own donation collection campaign and publishing the names of the donors, with the amounts that they donated.384 The list of donors first appeared on August 18,385 and was published throughout the crisis in the summer of 1896.

The lists published in al-Mu’ayyad provide valuable insights on how different segments of Egyptian society contributed to the efforts to aid the Cretan Muslims. One point that must be

381 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Mu’ayyad, 25 S 1314/ 5 August 1896, 3 382 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Mu’ayyad, 26 S 1314/ 6 August 1896, 3 383 Ibrāhīm Ḥaqqī al-Kirīdliī, “Jam’īyat ‘iāna mankūbī thawrat Kirīd” (Donation Committee for Those Afflicted by the Cretan Uprising), al-Mu’ayyad, 2 Ra 1314/ 11 August 1896, 3. 384 “‘Iānat mankūbī thawrat Kirīd” (Donation for Those Afflicted by the Cretan Uprising), al-Mu’ayyad, 7 Ra 1314/ 16 August 1896, 3. 385 “‘Iānat mankūbī thawrat Kirīd” (Donation for Those Afflicted by the Cretan Uprising), al-Mu’ayyad, 9 Ra 1314/ 18 August 1896, 3.

124

mentioned is the fact that the ruling elite in Egypt took an active interest in contributing to the donation collection drive. On 23 August 1896, for instance, al-Mu’ayyad reported that two princes from the Egyptian ruling family, Prince Ahmed Seyfeddin and Prince Mehmed

Vahdeddin, donated a total of twenty thousand kuruş. Al-Mu’ayyad included the letter that the princes had sent to the newspaper, in which the princes defined their donations as their duty while referring to the Ottoman Empire as “our Ottoman state,” in addition to an expression of gratitude that the newspaper addressed to the princes.386 Two days later, the paper published letters coming Ibrahim Khalīm Pasha, a member of the Shūra al-Qawānīn (Council of Legists), who donated forty British pounds; Aḥmad Ṭal‘at Pasha, who donated twenty seven British pounds; and ‘Uthmān Ghālib Pasha, former Minister of Awqāf, who donated five thousand kuruş.387 In addition, female members of the ruling elite contributed to the aid efforts for the

Cretan Muslims, as evidenced by the donations made by Princess Devlet Hanım Efendi, who was described as the wife of Rushdi Pasha and granddaughter of the deceased Barḥham Pasha388 as well as by members of the household of Behiyye, daughter of the deceased Barḥham ‘Alī

Pasha.389

Efforts to collect donations were not restricted to the upper echelons of the ruling elite in

Egypt. In fact, other segments of the Egyptian society from various parts of the province also played significant parts in contributing to the endeavor. On September 6 and September 7, for instance, al-Mu’ayyad published the names of Cairo merchants who had made contributions to

386 “Wājibāt al-shukr” (Duties of Gratitude), al-Mu’ayyad, 14 Ra 1314/ 23 August 1896, 3. 387 “Al-‘Awātif al-sharīfa” (Sincere Affections), al-Mu’ayyad, 16 Ra 1314/ 25 August 1896, 3. 388 “‘Iānat mankūbī thawrat Kirīd” (Donation for Those Afflicted by the Cretan Uprising), al-Mu’ayyad, 18 Ra 1314/ 27 August 1896, 3. 389 “‘Iānat mankūbī thawrat Kirīd (Donation for Those Afflicted by the Cretan Uprising), al-Mu’ayyad, 11 Ra 1314/ 20 August 1896, 3.

125

the aid collection and the amount that they had contributed.390 On September 1, a letter was published in al-Mu’ayyad from the notables of Manṣūra in the , northeast of Cairo, who described how they had been collecting donations for the Muslims that had been afflicted by the insurgency in Crete. The letter was then followed by the list of donors and the amounts of their donations.391 Another example comes from the subprovince of Bani Suwayf, south of Cairo, where the list of donors included figure such as the subprovincial governor Hasan Riḍwān Bey,

Yūsuf Nādir Effendi, who was described as an engineer, and “Hasan Badrān Effendi,” described as a doctor.392 These examples demonstrate that the donation collection efforts were neither limited to the upperlevels of the Egyptian ruling elite, nor to the main urban centers of Egypt, such as Alexandria or Cairo. On the contrary, wider segments of the Egyptian population from different locales took part in contributing to the donation collection campaign for the Cretan

Muslims who had been affected by the crisis on Crete in the summer of 1896.

In assessing these donations, two points must be emphasized. Even though the donation collection campaign that was spearheaded by al-Mu’ayyad supported the Ottoman Empire, its emphasis was more on the “Muslims” of Crete rather than Ottoman Empire as a whole.

Moreover, the act of writing a letter to the newspaper and getting it published, which was the case in various examples given above, is an important point to consider in the sense that it provided an opportunity for these donors to “perform” their Ottoman consciousness in a public sphere represented by the press. As will be seen, this sense of Ottoman consciousness emerged even more forcefully in the aid campaign during the Ottoman-Greek War.

390 “‘Iānat mankūbī thawrat Kirīd” (Donation for Those Afflicted by the Cretan Uprising), al-Mu’ayyad, 28 Ra 1314/ 6 September 1896, 3.; “‘Iānat mankūbī thawrat Kirīd” (Donation for Those Afflicted by the Cretan Uprising), al-Mu’ayyad, 29 Ra 1314/ 7 September 1896, 3. 391 “Al-‘Awātif al-sharīfa” (Sincere Affections), al-Mu’ayyad, 23 Ra 1314/ 1 September 1896, 2. 392 “‘Iānat mankūbī thawrat Kirīd” (Donation for Those Afflicted by the Cretan Uprising), al-Mu’ayyad, 5 R 1314/ 13 September 1896, 3.

126

Aid Collection During the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897

The aid collection drive that took place in Egypt right before and during the Ottoman-

Greek War in 1897 repeated the patterns of the donation collection efforts during the Cretan crisis of the summer of 1896. Similar to the donations collected for the Cretan Muslims in the previous year, the collection of aid for the Ottoman army started off more or less as a grassroots campaign. This time, however, it came to be organized officially by a committee that was headed by Riyāḍ Pasha. Moreover, the donation collection drive for the Ottoman army witnessed the participation of different segments of the society from all over the province, ranging from the ruling elite in Egypt to other classes, including widespread participation of women as well as non-Muslims of the Egyptian population. The most important difference of the donations collected during the Ottoman-Greek War, however, was the fact that “Ottoman consciousness” was much more pronounced compared to the donation drive that took place in the summer of

1896.

Towards the end of February 1897, al-Mu’ayyad reported the establishment of committees to collect donations for the Ottoman army in Alexandria and Cairo. ‘Alī Yūsuf called these efforts an“awakening of the morality” (nahḍat al-fāḍila) of the people in Alexandria and

Cairo for “helping our Sublime State” (musā‘ada li dawlatnā al-‘aliyya).393 Similar committees also sprang up in different parts of Egypt around this time, such as in Abū Kabīr in the Sharqiyya subprovince394 and the city of Manṣūra.395 It did not take long, however, for these committees to be centrally organized. On 12 March, the editors of al-Ahrām ran an article, announcing the establishment of a central committee to collect donations for the Ottoman army, not missing the

393 “Lajnat ‘iānat al-‘askariyya al-shāhāniyya fī al-Qāhira” (Committee of Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army in Cairo), al-Mu’ayyad, 19 N 1314/ 21 February 1897, 3. 394 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Mu’ayyad, 4 L 1314/ 8 March 1897, 3. 395 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Mu’ayyad, 7 L 1314/ 11 March 1897, 3.

127

chance to claim that they were the ones, who thought of such a committee. The article labeled these efforts to help the Ottoman army a “national action,” while also indicating that this movement had the blessing of the Khedive Abbas Hilmi Pasha. The article also argued that the widespread support for this project demonstrated the strong ties that existed between Egypt on the one hand, and the Sultan and the , on the other.396 Al-Mu’ayyad also reported on the

Khedive’s support for the donation collection efforts, enthusing that “national spirit” and

“patriotic zeal” had gained ascendancy in Egypt as people from all over the country were contributing to the collection of aid for “their state” (dawlatihim) and “their community”

(millatihim).397 Over the next couple of weeks, both of these influential newspapers continued to publish articles, depicting the donation collection as a “duty” of the Egyptian population while also underlining the upsurge of Ottoman consciousness within the Egyptian society at this time.398

As in the case of the collection of aid for the Cretan Muslims in the summer of 1896, different segments of Egyptian society took part in the donation collection efforts during the

Ottoman-Greek War. This was again evident in the lists that were published daily in al-Ahrām and al-Mu’ayyad. Not surprisingly, the members of the Egyptian ruling elite were the driving force behind this process once again. For instance, individuals from the Khedive’s family such as

Prince Hüseyin Kamil Pasha and Ibrahim Hilmi Pasha made donations to help the Ottoman army from the very beginning. More interestingly, women of the ruling dynasty took an active part in contributing to the donation collection efforts in Egypt. On a list published in al-Mu’ayyad on 22

396 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Ahrām, 8 L 1314/ 12 March 1897, 3. 397 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Mu’ayyad, 7 L 1314/ 11 March 1897, 3. 398 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya (Local News),” al-Ahrām, 12 L 1314/ 16 March 1897, 3; “Al-‘āṣima” (The Capital), al- Ahrām, 20 Za 1314/22 April 1897; “Nahḍat al-‘umma al-miṣriyya: ‘iānat al-‘askariyya al-shāhāniyya (Awakening of the Egyptian People: Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al-Mu’ayyad, 10 L 1314/ 14 March 1897, 1; “Nahḍat al- ‘umma al-miṣriyya: ‘iānat al-‘askariyya al-shāhāniyya” (Awakening of the Egyptian People: Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al-Mu’ayyad 12 L 1314/ 16 March 1897, 1.

128

March 1897, the name of Çesm-i Afet Hanım, who was the wife of Khedive Ismail Pasha, in addition to being a talented poet as İhsanoğlu indicates in his book,399 can be seen as among the donors.400 Other lists that were published in al-Ahrām, feature Ismail Pasha’s wives Canan-ı Yar

Hanım Efendi401 and Gülendam Hanım.402

In addition to the members of the ruling family, various other parts of Egyptian society also demonstrated their solidarity with the Ottoman Empire through the donation campaign.

Once again, the lists published by al-Ahrām and al-Mu’ayyad provide insights into determining how widespread “Ottoman consciousness” was in Egyptian society. Members of the higher echelons of the Egyptian bureaucratic elite were the largest contributors to the donation collection efforts for the Ottoman army.403 Female members of the households of the administrative elite also actively participated in the donation collection drives. Riyāḍ Pasha’s wife, for instance, was the head of the “aid-fund commission for women.”404 Moreover, throughout the aid collection drive, al-Mu’ayyad published separate lists of women who made donations to support the Ottoman army. Unlike the women of the ruling family, however, these women were defined by the households to which they belonged and identified as “wife” or

“sister” or “mother” of a member of the ruling elite.

399 Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu, Mısır’da Türkler ve Kültürel Mirasları, 34. 400 “Qā’imat al-iktitāb” (List of Contributions), al-Mu’ayyad, 18 L 1314/ 22 March 1897, 3. 401 “Al-‘Iāna al-‘askariyya al-‘uthmāniyya” (The Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al-Ahrām, 19 L 1314/ 23 March 1897, 2. 402 “Al-‘Iāna al-‘askariyya al-‘uthmāniyya” (The Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al-Ahrām, 23 L 1314/ 27 March 1897, 2. 403 See for instance: “Al-‘Iāna al-‘askariyya al-‘uthmāniyya” (The Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al-Ahrām, 23 L 1314/ 27 March 1897, 2; “Al-‘Iāna al-‘askariyya al-‘uthmāniyya” (The Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al-Ahrām, 30 L 1314/ 3 April 1897, 2; “Al-‘Iāna al-‘askariyya al-‘uthmāniyya” (The Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al- Ahrām, 2 Za 1314/ 5 April 1897, 2; “Al-‘Iāna al-‘askariyya al-‘uthmāniyya” (The Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al-Ahrām, 19 Za 1314/ 21 April 1897, 2; “Nahḍat al-shubbān al-fuḍalā’ li al-‘iāna al-‘askariyya al-shahāniyya” (Awakening of the Eminent Youth by the Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al-Mu’ayyad, 9 L 1314/ 13 March 1897, 3; “Qā’imat al-iktitāb al-‘iāna al-‘askariyya al-shahāniyya” (List of Contributons to the Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al-Mu’ayyad, 14 L 1314/ 18 March 1897, 3; “Qā’imat al-iktitāb ḥaḍrāt al-sayyidāt al-miṣriyyāt” ( List of Contributions: Eminent Egyptian Ladies), al-Mu’ayyad, 1 Za 1314/ 3 April 1897, 3. 404 “Qā’imat al-iktitāb al-sayyidāt al-miṣriyyāt li al-‘iāna al-‘askariyya” (List of Egyptian Women’s Contributions to the Military Aid-Fund), al-Mu’ayyad, 18 L 1314/ 22 March 1897, 3.

129

Other significant examples of the contribution of different parts of Egyptian society to the aid collection efforts appear in the pages of Egyptian daily press. On 23 March 1897, for instance, al-Mu’ayyad reported on the donations made by the students of al-Azhar, under the title

“Awakening of the Students” (Nahḍat ṭalabāt al-madāris).405 These donations by al-

Azhar students came soon after the Skaykh al-Azhar put forth that it was the duty for all

Muslims to help “their sublime state.”406 Four days later, al-Mu’ayyad reported that the Jewish community of Alexandria was collecting money to contribute to the funds for supporting the

Ottoman army.407 The same issue featured another piece on how boxes for donations were being put in mosques and other public spaces in order to ensure contributions from wider segments of the Egyptian society.408

In another significant example, the eunuchs (“aghas”) of Egypt donated to the aid fund through what was called the “Economic Group of Aghas” (Jam‘iyyat al-aghawāt al-iqtiṣādiyya).

An article in al-Mu’ayyad noted that the group headed by Besim Ağa of Mansur Yeğen Pasha’s household, and represented by Sadık Ağa, the “head agha” of the Princess Zeyneb Hanım

Efendi’s palace, had donated various amounts to the aid collection for the support of the Ottoman army. This brief introduction was followed by a list of eunuchs who had made contributions to the donation fund.409

Taken as a whole, these donations demonstrate the upsurge of “Ottoman consciousness” within different segments of the Egyptian society, but above all the administrative and professional elites and members of their households. Members of the Arabic-speaking

405 “Nahḍat ṭalabat al-madāris” (Awakening of the Madrasa Students), al-Mu’ayyad, 19 L 1314/ 23 March 1897, 2. 406 “Nahḍat al-umma al-miṣriyya li al-‘iāna al-‘askariyya al-shahāniyya” (Awakening of the Egyptian People by the Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al-Mu’ayyad, 10 L 1314/ 14 March 1897, 1. 407 “Al-Iskandariyya” (Alexandria), al-Mu’ayyad, 23 L 1314/ 27 March 1897, 2. 408 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Mu’ayyad, 23 L 1314/ 27 March 1897, 2. 409 “‘Iānat ḥaḍrāt al-aghawāt” (Donations of Esteemed Aghas), al-Mu’ayyad, 4 Za 1314/ 6 April 1897, 2.

130

intellectual elite interpreted these developments in the same way, arguing that the reaction of the

Egyptian population proved Egypt’s and Egyptians’ support of and loyalty to the Empire, the caliphate and the Sultan.410 One of the most influential figures, who made this point was again

Muṣṭafā Kāmil. Kāmil dwelt upon the donation collection drive in Egypt in many of his articles and speeches, emphasizing how this process was a “duty” for Egyptians while also underlining the fact that the well-being of Egypt was closely related to the well-being of the Ottoman

Empire, of which Kāmil considered Egypt to be a part. Therefore, it is important to look at his views a little more in depth.

In an article published in a French newspaper on 17 April 1897, Muṣṭafā Kāmil went into the topic of aid collection in Egypt. Kāmil labeled the donations collected by Egyptians as “al- i‘āna al-waṭaniyya” (national aid) arguing that it was not hatred of Christians living in Egypt that led the Egyptian population to initiate this drive, but that Egyptians were fulfilling their duty, especially their “patriotic” duty towards the caliph of the Muslims, meaning Sultan Abdülhamid.

Kāmil stressed that this was the patriotic (waṭanī) duty of Egyptians because Egypt built its legitimate claims against the British occupation on the integrity of the Ottoman Empire.411 About a month later, Muṣṭafā Kāmil wrote another article on the same topic, this time for al-Mu’ayyad.

Here, Kāmil once again challenged the view that Egyptians displayed hostility and fanaticism towards foreigners and by showing their support for the Ottoman army. He put forth that the aid collection in Egypt proved the fact that Egyptians were aware of the

“machinations” of the British in Egypt. Kāmil reiterated the fact that Egypt was part of the

Ottoman Empire, which had sole authority over Egypt. For this reason, he argued, it was clear

410 “ Al-‘Āṣima” (The Capital), al-Ahrām, 20 Za 1314/ 22 April 1897, 2; “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al- Ahrām, 1 Z 1314/ 3 May 1897, 2; “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Ahrām, 4 Z 1314/ 6 May 1897, 2; “Nahḍat al-umma al-miṣriyya li al-‘iāna al-‘askariyya al-shahāniyya” (Awakening of the Egyptian People by the Aid-Fund for the Ottoman Army), al-Mu’ayyad, 12 L 1314/ 16 March 1897, 1. 411 Muṣṭafā Kāmil, Awrāq Muṣṭafā Kāmil: Al-maqālāt (Papers of Muṣṭafā Kāmil: The Articles), 248-250.

131

why the Egyptians should defend the Ottoman Empire’s well-being. Whoever criticized these efforts, Kāmil added, was ignorant of the duties and feelings of the Egyptians towards the

Ottoman Empire.412 These articles foreshadow his June 1897 speech, quoted above, in which he argued that an Ottoman defeat in the conflict would have led to the partition of the Empire and the fall of Egypt securely into the hands of the occupiers. Therefore, he asked, how could the

Egyptians not work to strengthen the Ottoman Empire, help it force its enemies from its territory, and protect its prosperity and independence? In this context, the collection of donations was a patriotic duty for all Egyptians.413

These views put forth by Muṣṭafā Kāmil are important for a number of reasons. On the one hand, they demonstrate his support for the Ottoman Empire, the Sultan, and the Caliph, underlining the fact that he continues to self-identify as “Ottoman,” especially at a time when he felt that the fate of Egypt was closely tied to the fate of the Ottoman Empire. Scholars usually interpret this as a “tactical” move414 and even though it may be argued that Muṣṭafā Kāmil had an interest in the well-being of Ottoman Empire, it would be more accurate to argue that his feelings sprang much more from a cultural sense of “Ottoman consciousness” that was prevalent among the Egyptian intelligentsia at the time. Considering the fact that he would later be one of the most famous figures of Egyptian nationalism, and the propagator of the famous slogan

“Egypt for the Egyptians,” this point is important to consider. It is also important to realize, however, that his sense of Ottoman cultural consciousness existed side-by-side with his sense of an “Egyptian identity,” as his primary aim continued to be the military evacuation of Egypt, which would leave it under Ottoman sovereignty.

412 Ibid., 251-255. 413 Muṣṭafā Kāmil, Awrāq Muṣṭafā Kāmil: Al-khuṭāb, 132-154. 414 Jankowski “Ottomanism and Arabism,” 64-65; Hourani, Arabic Thought, 200-201.

132

Before leaving the topic of donations for the war effort, we should consider the reactions of the Ottoman state to the aid collection efforts in Egypt. As the official representative of the

Ottoman Empire in Egypt, Ahmed Muhtar Pasha was following the developments closely. In a missive that he sent to Istanbul on 23 March 1897, Ahmed Muhtar Pasha reported on the initiation of donation collection campaigns first in Alexandria, then in Cairo due to the escalating tensions between the Ottoman Empire and Greece. He informed Istanbul that Riyāḍ Pasha had been appointed as the president of the aid-fund committee, and that donation commissions were being established in different parts of the province. Moreover, he emphasized that all the parts of the Egyptian society (tabakat-i muhtelifesinin her biri) were donating to the fund.415 In another report dated one week later, Muhtar Pasha again informed Yıldız Palace on how the aid campaign was progressing, making a special mention of the Jewish community in Alexandria making contributions to this effort. At the end of his report, Muhtar Pasha also put forth that the

Khedive and his mother had personally made donations.416 Finally, he suggested that members of the Egyptian ruling elite, who made significant contributions to the donation campaign should be rewarded with decorations and medals.417 Not surprisingly, Sultan Abdülhamid looked on this upsurge of Ottoman consciousness in Egypt very positively, as can be seen clearly in a telegraph that he sent to Ahmed Muhtar Pasha, in which he expressed his gratitude to the members of the committee and the Eyptian population in general.418

Conclusion

The Ottoman-Greek War of 1897 proved to be one of the rare instances in which the

Ottoman Empire was militarily victorious against its rivals during the long 19th century. As this

415 BOA, Y.A HUS 370/2, 14 L 1314/ 18 March 1897. 416 BOA, Y.A HUS 370/91, 14 L 1314/ 18 March 1897. 417 BOA, Y.MTV 155/35, 13 Za 1314/ 15 April 1897. 418 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya” (Local News), al-Mu’ayyad, 12 L 1314/ 16 March 1897, 2.

133

chapter demonstrated, this victory reverberated in Egypt, leading to an upsurge of Ottoman consciousness among the Arabic-speaking intelligentsia of Egypt as well as among the general

Egyptian population.

The chapter provided three main arguments. First, it demonstrated how the Egyptian daily press followed the crisis in Crete in the summer of 1896 and the Ottoman-Greek War of

1897 very closely, reporting on it extensively and conveying developments to the Egyptian public. In addition to the content of these articles, the way they were framed and the language in which they were composed reflected Ottoman consciousness in Egypt at the time. Moreover, the chapter put forth that the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt perceived the crisis between the

Ottoman Empire and Greece through the lens of British imperialism and utilized it as a tool to discursively resist the British occupation of Egypt. Finally, I argued that the “Ottoman consciousness” in Egypt was not limited to the ruling and intellectual elite of the province.

Through the donation collection campaigns, wider segments of the Egyptian population from different parts of the province were able to perform their Ottoman consciousness in the newly emerging public sphere that was represented by the daily newspapers such as al-Ahrām and al-

Mu’ayyad.

134

Chapter 3: An “Ottoman Moment” in Egypt: The Young Turk Revolution of 1908

Introduction

On July 24, 1908, the inhabitants of Istanbul woke up to a strange and astonishing piece of news. The Istanbul press reported, without any commentary, that Sultan Abdülhamid had called for the reconvening of the Ottoman Parliament in line with the principles of the constitution, the same constitution that the sultan had suspended in February 1878. Throughout the day, the news spread like wildfire in the capital. Even though people could not believe it at first, by the evening there were celebrations underway everywhere in the city. This celebratory wave gradually expanded all over the Empire as the people took to the streets to celebrate the news. It was a truly “Ottoman” moment. People from different ethnic and religious groups were hugging each other, sharing a sense of “brotherhood,” believing in the same dream that a constitutional government would save the Empire.

The way the restoration of the Ottoman constitution was received in the Arab provinces of the Empire has been investigated in the secondary scholarship. In his landmark study, Hasan

Kayalı argues that reactions varied from region to region. While in the coastal areas of Greater

Syria the news announcing the restoration of the constitution were received enthusiastically, the reaction was more subdued in such as the Hejaz. All over the Arab provinces however, similar to the rest of the Empire, the constitution caused social and political divisions to become more visible, while people utilized the constitution to give voice to their specific grievances.

Moreover, Kayalı focuses on the role that the Arab deputies played in the Ottoman parliament after the 1908 elections, arguing that deputies from the Arab provinces acted within the

“Ottomanism” ideal that was propagated by the Committee of Union and Progress (CUP) at the

135

time.419 While Kayalı takes a broader approach to the impact of the Young Turk Revolution on the Arab provinces, numerous scholars have produced studies that focus on how the restoration of the constitution affected specific provinces. In a classic work on Arab nationalism, Rashid

Khalidi analyzes how the local elites of Syria responded to the CUP policies between 1908 and

1914,420 while Mahmoud Haddad argues that the Arabs of increasingly came to see the CUP as representing the threats of both and foreign penetration.421 In another book- length study, Michelle Campos puts forth that the 1908 Revolution enabled inhabitants of

Ottoman Palestine to debate what it meant to be an “Ottoman imperial citizen” while also utilizing the fundamental concepts of the Revolution such as “liberty,” “equality,” “fraternity,” and “justice,” to further their own individual and collective interests.422 Butrus Abu-Manneh also focuses on Palestine and argues that the “Arab-Ottomanists” of the region “applauded the

Revolution and the restoration of the Constitution while cherishing high hopes of the new government in Istanbul led by the Committee of Union and Progress.” According to Abu-

Manneh, even though these intellectuals were staunch believers in Ottomanism, they became disillusioned due to the centralizing policies that the CUP tried to implement after the CUP leaders had consolidated their power in Istanbul.423

As can be seen from the brief sketch above, the reverberations of the Young Turk

Revolution in the Arab provinces of the Empire have been analyzed in some depth. What is

419 Hasan Kayalı, Arabs and Young Turks: Ottomanism, Arabism, and in the Ottoman Empire, 1908-1918 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), 60-64. 420 Rashid Khalidi, “Ottomanism and Arabism in Syria Before 1914: A Reassessment,” in The Origins of Arab Nationalism, eds. Rashid Khalidi, Lisa Anderson, Muhammad Muslih, and Reeva S. Simon (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), 59-63. 421 Mahmoud Haddad, “Iraq Before World War I: A Case of Anti-European Arab Ottomanism,” in The Origins of Arab Nationalism eds. Rashid Khalidi, Lisa Anderson, Muhammad Muslih, and Reeva S. Simon (New York: Columbia University Press, 1991), 120-121. 422 Campos, Ottoman Brothers, 4-5, 34-36. 423 Butrus Abu-Manneh, “Arab-Ottomanists’ Reactions to the Young Turk Revolution,” in Late Ottoman Palestine: The Period of Young Turk Rule, eds. Yuval Ben-Bassat and Eyal Ginio (London: I.B Tauris, 2011), 145-149.

136

missing from this analysis, however, is how the Egyptian ruling and intellectual elite responded to this watershed event. In her standard account of Egyptian history, Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid Marsot does not mention the 1908 Revolution424 but instead “hurries” through this period until she reaches “the solid national ground of the 1919 Revolution,” as Di-Capua aptly puts it in his book.425 While discussing the different currents of thought that existed in Egypt regarding

Egypt’s identity, Israel Gershoni and James Jankowski briefly touch upon the reactions of the leading nationalist intellectuals of Egypt to the Young Turk Revolution, putting forth that after

Muṣṭafā Kāmil had passed away in 1908, his successors welcomed the Young Turk Revolution and sent delegates to Istanbul to “scout the possibility of formal Egyptian representation in the restored Ottoman parliament.”426 Nevertheless, their analysis does not provide too much detail on how the Young Turk Revolution reverberated in Egypt.

In this sense, one work that merits considerable attention is Ehud Toledano’s analysis of the Egyptian nationalist elite’s sociocultural between the late 19th century and the end of World War I. In this work, Toledano investigates how the members of the Ottoman-Egyptian elite evolved into Egyptian nationalists from a sociocultural perspective through his analysis of the life of Muḥammad Farīd. Toledano argues that the Ottoman-Egyptian elite, which came into existence between the 17th and 19th centuries,427 was first transformed into an “Egyptian-

Ottoman” elite in the late 19th century and later on evolved into a distinctive Egyptian elite, getting rid of the “Ottoman sociocultural ingredients” of their cultural identity.428 According to

Toledano, Muḥammad Farīd was a perfect example of this transformation as he chose to deny his

424 Marsot, A History of Egypt, 94-97. 425 Di-Capua, Gatekeepers of the Arab Past, 70. 426 Gershoni and Jankowski, Egypt, Islam, and the Arabs, 7. 427 Toledano analyzed this process in depth in earlier works: Toledano, “The Emergence of Ottoman-Local Elites (1700-1800),” 145-162; Toledano, “The Arabic-Speaking World in the Ottoman Period,” 459-465. 428 Ehud R. Toledano, “Muḥammad Farīd: Between Nationalism and the Egyptian-Ottoman ,” in of the Modern Middle East: Contextualizing Community, eds. Anthony Gorman and Sossie Kasbarian (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2015), 71.

137

Ottoman-Egyptian cultural orientation in order to take his place within the newly emerging

Egyptian nation. One important point that Toledano emphasizes is that Muḥammad Farīd was an early admirer of the Young Turk Revolution and praised the CUP for its reformist program even though he later became critical of their policies.429 Toledano also claims that at least until 1916, when he realized that after the war, Egypt would be a distinct entity and not a part of the

Ottoman Empire, Farīd maintained his Ottoman orientation.430 Taking these ideas as an entry point, this chapter will provide a deeper analysis of how the Egyptian population, including the intellectual and ruling elite as well as the wider segments of Egyptian society, responded to the

Young Turk Revolution of 1908 and how these reactions provided clues to the presence of

Ottoman cultural consciousness in Egypt at the time.

The main argument of this chapter is that, like the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897, the

Young Turk Revolution of 1908 was a moment that led to an upsurge in Ottoman cultural consciousness in Egypt. I will first demonstrate the active interest in the developments in

Macedonia preceding the Young Turk Revolution as well as in the Young Turk Revolution itself, both within the Egyptian intelligentsia and among the Egyptian public in general. This growing interest was evident in the constant reporting of developments in the Egyptian press, especially after the constitution was reinstated, in addition to the public demonstrations held in various cities in Egypt that celebrated the restoration of the constitution. Next, I argue that like proponents of the constitution in Istanbul and other parts of the Empire, the intelligentsia in

Egypt thought of the constitution as a for all the ills that the Ottoman Empire was suffering at the time. I maintain that the intelligentsia in Egypt perceived the Young Turk

Revolution through the lens of European imperialism and the Egyptian Question, believing that

429 Ibid., 91. 430 Ibid., 91-92.

138

the constitutional government would help strengthen the Ottoman Empire, leading to the end of the British occupation in Egypt. I also contend that that the Young Turk Revolution and the reinstitution of the constitutional government in Istanbul led some members of the intelligentsia in Egypt to perceive the Ottoman Empire, albeit briefly, as a model and to demand a constitution to be implemented in Egypt as well. Finally, I argue that in addition to the intelligentsia, wider segments of Egyptian society also demonstrated their sense of Ottoman consciousness by participating in the boycotts that were organized throughout the Empire in order to protest against Austria’s annexation of -. This participation by different segments of the Egyptian population will once again be presented as one of the main ways for Egyptians to

“perform” their Ottoman consciousness.

The chapter begins by giving a history of the Young Turk movement in the Ottoman

Empire, paying particular attention to the movement’s ideological and organizational development. The Macedonian crisis, which erupted at the beginning of the 20th century and which provided the spark that led to the Young Turk Revolution, will also be analyzed.

Moreover, since Egypt was an important base for the Young Turk activity against the

Abdülhamid regime and since some prominent members of the Young Turks lived in Egypt until the Revolution, the chapter will also provide a brief sketch of the activities of these figures in

Egypt. I then turn to how the Young Turk Revolution was received in Egypt, both among the intelligentsia and within the general public. While doing so, I will primarily be using Arabic- language newspapers and journals, such as al-Ahrām, al-Hilāl, al-Manār and Abū Naẓẓāra, as well as memoirs and other literary works written by Arabic-speaking intellectuals in Egypt, and materials from the Ottoman state archives.

The Young Turks and the 1908 Revolution

139

The foundations of the movement that came to be known as the “Young Turks” were laid in 1889. After Abdülhamid ascended the throne in 1876, he managed to quell the opposition against him by sending figures such as into exile and suspending the Ottoman parliament.431 Moreover, as Carter Findley has demonstrated, there was a decline in food prices in the 1880s, allowing those who were on fixed salaries to prosper and tamping down elite opposition to the rule of Abdülhamid in this period.432

Nevertheless, there was still an ongoing expression of discontent in the Empire and an important center of these oppositional voices was the institutions of higher education. One such institution was the Military Medical Academy in Istanbul. Six students, all of them coming from non-Turkish Muslim backgrounds that felt threatened by the non-Muslim separatist movements supported by the Great Powers, formed a group called Ittihad-i Osmani Cemiyeti (Ottoman

Union Society). Influenced by ideas of scientific materialism and having acquired military discipline, these students established an efficient organization and started to disseminate propaganda against the Abdülhamid regime through secret meetings and publications. Their efforts were highly successful as similar groups started to spring up in other institutions such as the Imperial School of Administration (Mülkiye Mektebi) and Imperial War

Academy; at the same time the Union Society managed to recruit a number of bureaucrats into their organization. Abdülhamid’s spy network soon got wind of these “seditious” actions, however, and cracked down on the clandestine groups. Moreover, beginning in 1895,

431 Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 88-120. 432 Carter Vaughn Findley, Ottoman Civil Officialdom: A Social History (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989), 319-333.

140

Abdülhamid started to send numerous individuals into exile in different parts of the Empire, while some of the group members fled to Europe and Cairo.433

Those who went to Europe found a receptive audience there. Ahmed Rıza, an Ottoman in exile and a staunch opponent of the Abdülhamid regime, had been in Paris since 1889, publishing articles that criticized the rule of Abdülhamid, and composing treatises on reform that he sent directly to the sultan. His antagonism to the regime and his ideas on reform were appreciated by the members of the Ottoman Union Society. At their insistence, Ahmed Rıza assumed the leadership of the organization in Europe in 1895. Being a follower of Auguste

Comte and the idea of positivism, Ahmed Rıza first wanted to rename the society Nizam ve

Terakki, this being the Ottoman-Turkish translation of Comte’s famous slogan “Order and

Progress.” The original founders, however, insisted on including the word “unity” and after some negotiations, the parties agreed to call the movement Osmanlı Ittihad ve Terakki Cemiyeti (The

Ottoman Committee of Union and Progress).434 However, the members were popularly known as

Jön Türkler, or Young Turks. From Europe, the Young Turks started to disseminate their ideas by publishing newspapers, the most important of which was Meşveret, founded by Ahmed Rıza in Paris, and smuggling them into the Empire.435 Meanwhile, the organization tried to implement plans to depose Abdülhamid in 1896 and 1897 but they were discovered, tried, given harsh sentences, and exiled to Tripoli and Fezzan. This blow weakened the CUP organization in

Istanbul to a great extent even though it was far from being defeated.436

433 Şükrü Hanioğlu, The Young Turks in Opposition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), 71-74; Hanioğlu, A Brief History, 145; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity: A History, 1789-2007 (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010), 161; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 354-357. 434 Hanioğlu, The Young Turks in Opposition, 74; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 161. 435 Hanioğlu, The Young Turks in Opposition, 78; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 161. 436 Hanioğlu, The Young Turks in Opposition, 84-86, 104-112; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 161; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 466-467.

141

The heel of the Young Turks at this time was the dire financial situation they usually found themselves in because unlike the Young Ottomans, who had Mustafa Fazıl Pasha to finance their operations,437 the Young Turks had no one to bankroll them. Abdülhamid used this situation shrewdly and lured many of the leading members of the organization back to the

Empire with promises of amnesty, reform and salaried posts in the bureaucracy. The of prominent members such as Mizancı Murad, who edited the influential journal Mizan, inflicted serious blows to the organization.438 When ot coaxing members to return, Sultan Abdülhamid exiled them to , almost completely silencing the opposition by 1897. The situation transformed, however, when Mahmud Celaleddin Pasha fled to Europe in 1899 and became the main financier of the CUP members in exile. He was a brother-in-law of Sultan Abdülhamid, and the fact that he joined the Young Turks with his two sons, Prince Sabahaddin and Prince

Lütfullah, was very disturbing for the sultan since it provided the Young Turks with much needed financial backing as well as giving them prestige.439

Mahmud Celaleddin Pasha’s move opened the door for his son Sabahaddin to become politically active. Sabahaddin represented a new generation of youth, and he posed a challenge to

Ahmed Rıza for the leadership of the Young Turk movement. An Anglophile and a liberal,

Sabahaddin was an ardent supporter of decentralization and free enterprise, and argued that the

Empire could be saved only through these means. Ahmed Rıza, on the other hand, leaned much more towards centralization. These two currents of thought came to a head in the opposition congress that Sabahaddin, together with his brother, convened in Paris in February 1902. Despite

Abdülhamid’s efforts to derail it, the delegates who attended the congress were a fairly good

437 Şerif Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought: A Study in the Modernization of Turkish Political Ideas (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962), 44-56. 438 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 161; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 467-471. 439 Hanioğlu, The Young Turks in Opposition, 142-145; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 162; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 522-523.

142

representation of the Ottoman society, as they included Armenians, Greeks, and as well as Muslim Ottomans. Nevertheless, the congress led to a major split within the Young Turk movement over the issue of foreign intervention. While Sabahaddin and his supporters wanted foreign, and especially British, intervention in order to further their cause, the group led by

Ahmed Rıza vehemently opposed this idea, arguing that any type of European intervention in

Ottoman domestic affairs would lead the Empire’s disintegration. After the congress, Sabahaddin tried to depose Abdülhamid in an unsuccessful coup attempt with the alleged help of Britain.440

Ahmed Rıza and his followers, however, “undertook an initiative to build a stronger organizational network for controlling the movement.”441

Even though Abdülhamid could not prevent the 1902 congress, he had better success in keeping Istanbul undisturbed by Young Turk activity until 1908.442 This does not mean, however, that all opposition was suppressed in the Empire. While Istanbul was relatively quiet, discontent with Abdülhamid’s regime festered in the provinces, where Abdülhamid had exiled key members of the opposition.443 Moreover, the international tide was also turning and the developments were in favor of the Young Turks.

More specifically, two watershed events gave the Young Turk movement an additional boost of motivation. The first of these major developments was the Russo-Japanese War of 1905.

The victory of , an Eastern power and a constitutional monarchy, over Russia, which was an absolutist regime and the archenemy of the Ottoman Empire, was very informative and indicative for the Young Turks. The Japanese victory demonstrated how reforms based on a

440 Şükrü Hanioğlu, Preparation for a Revolution: The Young Turks, 1902-1908 (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001), 16-27; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 162; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 525- 526. 441 Hanioğlu, The Young Turks in Opposition, 199. 442 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 163. 443 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 163; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 527-528.

143

constitutional government could revitalize a “traditional” state and society; thus this victory

“encouraged the Young Turks to aspire to Japanese political achievements in the realm of constitutional, parliamentary and other political processes.”444 The Young Turks already perceived to be the most important self-strengthening tool for the Empire.

Japan’s victory over Russia confirmed their beliefs since victorious Japan had reformed itself to become a constitutional monarchy while the vanquished Russia adhered to its absolutist principles. For the Young Turks, the message was very clear.445

Related to the Japanese victory over Russia and equally important for the Young Turk movement was the global wave of democratic movements and revolutions that swept the world at the beginning of the twentieth century. Examples of these movements included the 1905 revolution in Russia, resulted in part from Russia’s defeat by Japan, the Mexican Revolution of

1910 and the Chinese Revolution of 1911. More relevant for the Young Turks and the Ottoman

Empire, however, was the constitutional revolution that took place in in 1906.446 In his book, Nader Sohrabi ties together this global wave of democratic and revolutionary movements and its impact by arguing that the global diffusion of the constitutionalist ideology led to the creation of similar constitutional movements in Iran and the Ottoman Empire.447 According to

Sohrabi, the constitutional movements in both the Ottoman Empire and Iran adhered to the political principles generated by the , the main features being the separation of the executive and the legislative powers, popular sovereignty, written constitutions, and

444 Renée Worringer, “Rising Sun over Bear: The Impact of the Russo-Japanese War Upon the Young Turks” in “L’ivresse de la liberté” La révolution de 1908 dans l’Empire ottoman, ed. François Georgeon (Leuven: Peeters, 2012), 456. 445 Nader Sohrabi, Revolution and Constitutionalism in the Ottoman Empire and Iran (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 19-20. 72-78; Renée Worringer, “‘’ or ‘Japan of the ’: Constructing Ottoman Modernity in the Hamidian and Young Turk Eras,” International Journal of Middle East Studies, 36 no.2 (May 2004): 207-230. 446 For a detailed account of the Iranian revolution of 1906, see Mangol Bayat, Shi‘ism and the Constitutional Revolution of 1905-1909 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1991). 447 Sohrabi, Revolution and Constitutionalism, 16.

144

representative assemblies.448 The fact that the Iranian constitutional movement succeeded in taking steps to implement these principles in 1906 provided a new impetus to the Young Turk movement. As Findley puts it, “In 1876, the Ottoman Empire had a constitution, but Russia and

Iran did not; after 1905, both Russia and Iran had constitutions, but the Ottomans did not. That was Abdülhamid’s fault.”449

The year 1906 was important for the Young Turks for another reason. It represented a turning point for the CUP as it evolved from an intellectual movement, trying to disseminate ideas to save the Empire, to an effective revolutionary organization with the aim of taking control of the government.450 Two prominent figures, Bahaeddin Şakir and Doctor Nazım, who joined Ahmed Rıza and his supporters in exile, were the main protagonists of this change. In contrast to Ahmed Rıza, who was more of an intellectual, Bahaeddin Şakir and Doctor Nazım possessed superior organizational skills. In a very short time, these two figures transformed the

CUP into a revolutionary organization with a disciplined central committee and a secretariat.

More importantly, the CUP started to conduct propaganda efforts in various branches of the

Ottoman army. This move proved to be decisive in the revolution that the CUP orchestrated in

1908.451

The situation in the Empire was already ripe for Young Turk agitation. In various provinces, including Kastamonu, , Diyarbakır, Van, and Erzurum, tax revolts occurred in

1906-1907, most of which quickly evolved into protests against local governors.452 More important, however, was the discontent among the army officers, who protested against the

448 Ibid., 17-18. 449 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 163. 450 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 163; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 541-542. 451 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 163; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 541-542. 452 Sohrabi, Revolution and Constitutionalism, 84-86; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 163-164; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 542-543; Hanioğlu, Preparation for a Revolution, 104-124.

145

economic hardships that they were going through. Discontent among the officers was especially strong in Macedonia, where the situation was very tense due to the activities of nationalist committees of various ethno-religious groups. In 1906, a secret society called the Ottoman

Freedom Society was formed in Salonica, today in northeastern Greece, by a group of Ottoman bureaucrats and military officers. Under the organizational skills of Talat Bey, who was the chief clerk of correspondence at the Salonica post office directorate, this secret organization expanded its activities rapidly in the Macedonia region and managed to win widespread support among the officers of the Ottoman Second and Third Armies, located in and Macedonia respectively. These initial recruitments included Enver Bey and Niyazi Bey of the Third Army, individuals who would play key roles in the 1908 Revolution. Many founders of the Ottoman

Freedom Society had previously been members of the CUP. Therefore, it was not too much of a surprise that, after lengthy discussions, the Ottoman Freedom Society merged with the CUP organization in Paris in 1907, a critical step that strengthened the CUP and moved it closer to become a revolutionary organization that had the support of the armed forces for staging a revolution.453 This revolutionary outlook was further confirmed in the second congress of

Ottoman opposition, held in Paris in 1907. The final declaration of the congress stated that since peaceful measures had not had the desired effect, it was necessary to resort to violent means, which included armed resistance against the government and a call for a general uprising.

Moreover, after the congress the CUP’s main publishing organ, Şura-yı Ümmet (National

Council), openly appealed to the Ottoman military to take action. The bell was tolling for

Abdülhamid.454

453 Sohrabi, Revolution and Constitutionalism, 90-96; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 164; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 543; Hanioğlu, Preparation for a Revolution, 210-217. 454 Sohrabi, Revolution and Constitutionalism, 96-99; Hanioğlu, Preparation for a Revolution, 204-06.

146

The Revolution that restored the Ottoman constitution started in Macedonia, which was a very large region comprising three Ottoman provinces; , Monastir and Salonica. What made the region a hotbed for nationalist activity in the late 19th and early 20th centuries was its extremely diverse population, consisting of Turks, Greeks, Albanians, , Serbs, Vlachs and gypsies. The region was also religiously diverse, containing Muslims, Jews and Christians.

To make matters even more complicated, the Orthodox Christians were divided among themselves between the followers of the Greek patriarchate and adhenrents to the Bulgarian exarchate. After the creation of an autonomous Bulgarian as a result of the war between Ottoman Empire and Russia in 1878, different ethnic communities in the region started to form nationalist armed bands and from 1890s onwards began to challenge Ottoman rule in

Macedonia, which was tenuous to begin with.

The Armenian crisis of 1894-1896 and the aftermath of the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897, when the European powers intervened to turn the Ottoman Empire’s military victory into a diplomatic defeat, provided important case studies for the revolutionary committees in

Macedonia. From the early 1900s onwards, these revolutionary committees started to perpetrate acts of violence in the region in order to provoke the Ottoman state to respond with force and to ensure European intervention on their behalf. In 1902, for instance, the External Macedonian

Revolutionary Organization (EMRO), which wanted Macedonia to become a part of , initiated a general insurrection, which prompted a violent Ottoman response and led the

European powers to present a plan to solve the problem. One year later, the Internal Macedonian

Revolutionary Organization (IMRO), which sought Macedonian independence, made a significant demonstration of force in Salonica, blowing up a French , the Ottoman Imperial

Bank’s branch in the city, and the city’s gas lines. Moreover, in August 1903, the IMRO called

147

for a general insurrection, which reached as far as Thrace. Even though the Ottoman government managed to quell the revolt, the situation continued to be tense until 1908 and beyond.455

Stationed in Macedonia and living in close proximity to the revolutionary groups, the officers of the Ottoman Second and Third Armies were very much aware of what these committees were trying to do, and they were on edge. Their worries intensified at the end of

1907 and the beginning of 1908, when European pressure on the Ottoman Empire increased. The international political situation only added to the worries of the military officers. Russia, after its defeat by Japan in 1905, “returned” back to the Balkans and started came closer to British policies on the Macedonian Question. When the news reached Macedonia that the British king

Edward VII and the Russian tsar Nicholas II had met in the city of Reval (modern-day Tallinn,

Estonia) for talks, it proved to be a bombshell for the Young Turks officers and officials since they were convinced that the two rulers were planning to partition Macedonia. Therefore, they decided to take immediate action and on July 3, Niyazi Bey from Resne took to the hills with his men, prompting other officers such as Enver Bey to do the same. The Young Turk Revolution was under way.456

The Young Turks had also received intelligence that Sultan Abdülhamid was planning a preemptive strike against them. Once they started their armed insurgency in July, the Young

Turks’ strategy entered a new phase. Having learned extensively from the experiences and methods of the revolutionary bands in Macedonia, the Young Turks had already started to organize Macedonia’s discontented Muslim population in local self-defense bands, while also

455 Nadine Lange-Akhund, The Macedonian Question, 1893-1908: From Western Sources (New York: Columbia University Press, 1998), 1-25, 61-65, 93-134; Mark Mazower, Salonica, City of Ghosts: Christians, Muslims and Jews, 1430-1950 (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2004), 238-254; Mark Mazower, The Balkans: A Short History (New York: Modern Library, 2000), 205-207; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 144-145; İpek Yosmaoğlu, Blood Ties: Religion, Violence, and the Politics of Nationhood in Ottoman Macedonia, 1878-1908 (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2014), 45-46. 456 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 164-165; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 546-548.

148

directing their sense of anger and helplessness towards the regime in Istanbul, which was unable to protect them. The CUP undertook large-scale propaganda efforts in order to get the population to organize demonstrations for the constitution, and they were highly effective as the first posters demanding the reinstitution of the constitution started to appear in the city of Monastir. As much as he tried, once the revolution started Abdülhamid was not able to get any accurate information on the activities of the Young Turks. Moreover, throughout July the CUP members continued to assassinate the sultan’s agents, who had gone to the area in order to collect information and report back to the palace. These assassinations were in open defiance of the Hamidian regime and evidence of the CUP’s power and determination. Abdülhamid’s hopes of quelling the rebellion using the reserve troops stationed in Anatolia were crushed when the soldiers refused to fight against the CUP in Macedonia. This was largely due to the effective propaganda efforts that

CUP figures like Dr. Nazım had undertaken among the Anatolian troops. In the meantime, the

CUP was increasing its pressure on the palace, threatening the sultan with force if he did not restore the constitution. On July 23, the CUP announced the reinstatement of the constitution in front of a large crowd in Monastir and the news spread like wildfire around the region. The scene repeated itself in other major cities of the region. The CUP also made their threats more explicit, informing the sultan that if he did not restore the constitution, the Third Army would march on

Istanbul. Consulting with his advisors, Abdülhamid realized that he did not have any choice. The

Young Turks had finally reached their goal.457

Meanwhile, the Young Turks had been active in Egypt, as well. After the British occupation in 1882, Egypt had become a refuge for intellectuals who wanted to escape the censure of the Abdülhamid regime due to the lenient press laws that the British administration

457 Sohrabi, Revolution and Constitutionalism, 99-129; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 165- 166; Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 548-552; Hanioğlu, Preparation for a Revolution, 230-278.

149

implemented there.458 The Young Turks took advantage of this fact and set up another branch in

Cairo, headed initially by Ismail Ibrahim. In 1895, Mizancı moved to Egypt and took over the Cairo branch, publishing his Mizan newspaper there.459 According to Hanioğlu, Egypt was an important place for the Young Turks for four main reasons. First, Egypt provided an important strategic spot for smuggling banned publications into the Empire. In addition, the opponents of the regime could work under the relative protection of the British authorities and the khedive. Thirdly, Egypt was also important for the CUP’s relationship with the Arabophone ulama. And lastly, Hanioğlu puts forth that the Egyptian notables provided financial assistance to the organization, especially in the beginning.460

Egypt’s reaction to the CUP was mostly mixed. Even though prominent CUP members could interact with the ruling and intellectual elite of Egypt, they also faced opposition from the daily newspapers like al-Muqattam from the end of the 1890s onwards. British officials in Egypt, such as Lord Cromer, also tried to use the existence of the CUP in Egypt as leverage against

Abdülhamid.461 By the time of the 1902 congress, the CUP’s Egyptian branch had fallen into disarray due to internal struggles among the members. Even so, Cairo became an important center for Young Turk publications. Newspapers such as Şura-yı Ümmet, İctihad (from 1905 onwards) and Türk, which propagated a Turkish nationalist ideology, were published there.462 By

1906, the Cairo branch had lost its appeal for the CUP, but the leaders still wanted to maintain a branch there for financial reasons. In a letter that they sent to Mehmed , who was an inspector of the CUP in Egypt and a member of the Egyptian ruling family, Dr. Nazım

458 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 137; Ayalon, The Press in the Arab Middle East, 50; Cioeta, “Ottoman Censorship,” 170-178. 459 Hanioğlu, The Young Turks in Opposition, 81. 460 Ibid., 101. 461 Ibid. 138. 462 İhsanoğlu, Mısır’da Türkler ve Kültürel Mirasları, 225-236, 262-281; Hanioğlu, Preparation for a Revolution, 62-73.

150

and Bahaeddin Şakir laid down the reasons why it was important for the CUP to have a branch in

Egypt. According to them, Egypt was important for collecting donations and smuggling propaganda material into the Hejaz, Syria and other Ottoman territories. They also emphasized the importance of translating the articles that they wrote into Arabic and publishing them in

Egyptian newspapers for the Arabic-speaking population of the Empire.463 In the end, the CUP did not manage to form a self-sufficient branch in Egypt and until the revolution in 1908, the

CUP sympathizers in Cairo undertook the role of collecting small sums of money for the main organization.464

The Macedonian Crisis of 1908 in the Egyptian Press

From January 1908 onwards, the Macedonian Question started to take up more and more space in the Egyptian press. On the front page of the 17 January 1908 issue of al-Ahrām, for instance, there was a section titled “The Macedonian Question.” At the beginning of the piece, the author labeled the Macedonian Question the most important part of the Eastern Question at the moment. As mentioned in the previous chapter, the Eastern Question loomed large in the minds of the intellectuals of Egypt since they perceived the “Egyptian Question” as an important part of the larger Eastern Question. Therefore, the emphasis that al-Ahrām put on the

Macedonian issue is important. Having defined the problem this way, the article gave an overview of the developments in Macedonia, paying particular attention to the diplomatic plans that the European states had presented to the Ottoman Empire and Abdülhamid’s response, while also reporting on how the issue was covered in the European press.465 One week later, al-Ahrām ran another article on the topic, this time as the first piece of the day, in which it accused Britain of creating the Macedonia crisis for the Ottoman Empire and dragging other European states into

463 Hanioğlu, Preparation for a Revolution, 164-165. 464 Ibid. 165-166. 465 “Al-mas’ala al-Maqdūniyya” (The Macedonian Question), al-Ahrām, 13 Z 1325/ 17 January 1908, 1.

151

it. The author enumerated the reforms that the Ottoman Empire had implemented in the region, while complaining that the European states found them inadequate and advocated more drastic reforms that would mean the partition of the Empire.466

This worry can clearly be seen in another article that al-Ahrām published on February 6.

The piece reported the speech about Macedonia that the British Foreign minister Edward Grey had made in the British parliament, detailing the reforms that Britain wanted the Ottoman

Empire to implement in the region. Al-Ahrām commented that these reforms would prepare the way for the separation of Macedonia from the Ottoman territories. Moreover, the language that the author used to describe the Ottoman Empire, calling it “our state,” indicates that of the author associated himself with the Ottoman Empire.467

During February and March, al-Ahrām continued to report on the situation in Macedonia, viewing the issue through the lens of British imperialism and assuming a harsh toward Britain.

On February 10, for instance, al-Ahrām’s lead article was about the escalating tensions between

Austria and Russia in the Balkans, and how Russia had recalled its ambassador from Vienna.

According to the article the Russian move resulted from the agreement between the Ottoman

Empire and Austrian government on a new railroad line that would connect the Bosnia with

Salonica, opening up the Macedonian region to Austrian influence.468 As Georgeon puts it, this decision by Abdülhamid “changed the balance in the Balkans,” leading Russia to side with

Britain and support British policies in Macedonia.469

Sharing the prevalent opinion in the Empire, the intellectuals in Egypt argued that the

466 “Al-mas’ala al-Maqdūniyya” (The Macedonian Question), al-Ahrām, 20 Z 1325/ 24 January 1908, 1. 467 “Maqdūniyā al-tā‘isa wa Urūbba al-lā‘iba” (Miserable Macedonia and Europe the Gamester), al-Ahrām, 4 M 1326/ 6 February 1908, 1. 468 “Siyāsat al-Balqān wa istid‘ā’ safīr Rūsyā min Fīnā” (Balkan Politics and the Recall of the Russian Ambassador from Vienna), al-Ahrām, 8 M 1326/ 10 February 1908, 1. 469 Georgeon, Sultan Abdülhamid, 546.

152

policies that Britain wanted the Ottoman government to implement in Macedonia served British imperialistic interests to the detriment of the Ottoman Empire. On February 13, an article on the history of the “Eastern Question” appeared in al-Ahrām. The article was mostly on British policies in the Balkans and was based on a book titled The . The author argued that the main British goal in the “Eastern Question” was the weakening and partition of the

Ottoman Empire and the caliphate; he also asserted that the British wanted to establish control over Macedonia just as they had “swallowed Egypt.” 470 A string of small pieces on the

Macedonian question appeared later in March. Al-Ahrām reported on the negotiations on the reform proposals that the European states, headed by Britain and Russia, had tried to force upon the Ottoman government in short pieces published on March 3471 and March 21.472 In a longer article on described the Macedonian issue as a question of survival of the Ottomans, while labeling the Ottoman Empire as “our mighty state” (dawlatnā al-‘azīza). The article urged the readers to remember the words of British prime minister Gladstone about the need to expel the Turks from Europe. The author argued that the reforms that the British promoted in

Macedonia were another instance of British efforts to inflict damage on the Empire and loot “our territories.” The article accused Britain of being the mastermind behind the troubles that the

Ottoman Empire had suffered in the late 19th and the early 20th century, drawing parallels between Macedonia and the Crete episode of the 1890s.473 Another piece similar in tone came on

10 April, with the title “The British Murder: After , Macedonia;” here the author argued

470 “al-Mas’ala al-sharqiyya wa tārīkhuhā” (The Eastern Question and Its History), al-Ahrām, 11 M 1326/ 13 February 1908, 1. 471 “Akhbār al-barīd: Al-dawla al-‘aliyya wa al-iṣlāḥ fī Maqdūniyā” (News from the Post: The Sublime State and Reform in Macedonia), al-Ahrām, 30 M 1326/ 3 March 1908, 1. 472 “Al-duwal al-ḥākima al-‘ām fī Maqdūniyā” (The Great Powers in Macedonia), al-Ahrām, 18 S 1326/ 21 March 1908, 1. 473 “Maqdūniyā wa Rūmālī wa Lubnān: Tārīkh al-siyāsat al-īnkilīziyya” (Macedonia, Rumelia, and Lebanon: The History of English Policy), al-Ahrām, 25 S 1326/ 28 March 1908, 1.

153

that the British government was trying to incite trouble in Macedonia as it had done earlier in

Armenia.474

These articles show how Arabic-speaking intellectuals in Egypt perceived the

Macedonian issue, which had taken a turn for the worse for the Ottomans in 1908, especially after Russia decided to side with Britain. The articles demonstrate that, like the intellectuals in

Istanbul and in exile, some Egyptian intellectuals perceived the Macedonia as crucial for the integrity of the Ottoman Empire. Moreover, they interpreted the Macedonian question through the lens of British imperialism and utilized it once again to resist British policies against the

Ottoman Empire. Finally, even though it would be a mistake to make too general an assumption, we can still argue that the opinions put forth in al-Ahrām, an influential daily newspaper at this time, suggest that public opinion in Egypt was very much in tune with the rest of the Ottoman domains in seeing the Macedonian question as a “life or death” issue for the Empire. Egypt, then, continued to participate in the Ottoman cultural environment.

An Ottoman Moment: The Young Turk Revolution in Egypt

Only a few months after these articles on Macedonia appeared, news of the Young Turk

Revolution started to trickle into Egypt in the middle of July 1908. As mentioned above, the revolution started when Niyazi Bey, fearing the partition of Macedonia, took to the Macedonian hills with his men on July 3, prompting Enver Bey to do the same. One of the earliest pieces of news on these developments appeared in al-Ahrām on July 14. After summarizing developments, the piece, al-Ahrām reported that a delegation that was composed of Ismail Pasha, the inspector of the War College in Istanbul, Yusuf Pasha and Receb Pasha, had been sent to Salonica to find out what was happening among the officers of the Ottoman army that was stationed in the

474 “Qatl al-Īnkilīz: Ba‘ada Ārmīniyā, Maqdūniyā” (The British Murder: After Armenia, Macedonia), al-Ahrām, 9 Ra 1326/ 10 April 1908, 1.

154

region. The delegation learned that the officers were dissatisfied with Hamidian administration, concerned with what was happening in Macedonia, and were very much affected by reports in the newspapers that were published abroad and smuggled into the Empire. Al-Ahrām also reported on the assassination of Şemsi Pasha, who was killed by an Albanian officer.

Significantly, the article reported that posters demanding the reinstatement of the constitution had appeared on Salonica’s walls.475 Another small piece published on the front page two days later noted that some officers had taken to the hills, followed by soldiers, members of the bureaucracy and the Muslim population even though it was not certain that these officers belonged to the Young Turk party.476

More important, however, was a letter that al-Ahrām published on the same day. The author criticized al-Ahrām's coverage of events in Macedonia, stressing that the paper should pay much more attention to the developments in Macedonia due to the close political, social, and economic ties that Egypt had with the Ottoman Empire. Emphasizing the importance of what the officers in Macedonia were trying to achieve for the general well-being of the Empire, the author put forth that it was not simply a bunch of soldiers who were rising up but that the people, including both Muslims and Christians, were also involved in this movement. The author reiterated the demands of the uprising, namely the restoration of the Ottoman parliament and the implementation of the Ottoman constitution. In closing, he stressed that it was crucial for the

Egyptian press not to be silent about these developments and requested that letters should be sent to the Sultan asking him to put an end to the bloodshed.477

475 “Al-Āsitāna al-‘aliyya” (The Sublime Threshold), al-Ahrām, 15 C 1326/ 14 July 1908, 1. 476 “Akhbār al-barīd: Al-dawla al-‘aliyya” (News from the Post: The Sublime State), al-Ahrām, 17 C 1326/ 16 July 1908, 1. 477 “Al-thawra al-‘askariyya fī Maqdūniyā” (The Military Uprising in Macedonia), al-Ahrām, 19 C 1326/ 18 July 1908, 1.

155

Al-Ahrām’s response to this letter is quite revealing. The editors claimed to have little accurate information about the uprising but simply wanted reforms to be implemented in “our sultanate.” Even at this stage, it appears, the gravity of the situation was not known outside of

Macedonia, confirming the argument that the Young Turks managed to put a tight lid on their activities in the region.478

In sum, the Young Turk Revolution caught Egypt, along with much of the rest of the

Ottoman Empire, by surprise. Once the news sank in, however, the Revolution proved to be a very “Ottoman moment” in Egypt, leading to an outpouring of “Ottomanness.” The press in

Egypt announced the Young Turk Revolution to the Egyptian public in a manner that would today be called “breaking news.” In the “Local News” section of July 25 issue of al-Ahrām, a report on the Young Turk Revolution and the restoration of the Ottoman constitution received the title “Meclis-i Mebusan (the Ottoman parliament) Awakens from Its Repose after 31 Years."

A subtitle read “Long Live Ottomanness (‘uthmāniyya)! Long Live the East! Long Live Freedom and Fraternity and Equality!”479 Curiously enough, this announcement appeared on the paper’s second page, in a separate section, suggesting that the editors had learned of the Revolution just before the paper went to press and had felt the need to include it, even if only on the second page.

Rashīd Riḍā’s al-Manār also announced the restoration of the Ottoman constitution, informing its readers that a decree issued by the Sultan on 25 July 1908 restored the Ottoman parliament. In the same piece, al-Manār also reported on how the news were received with joy in

Istanbul and in the Ottoman provinces, including Egypt, while also giving credit to the Ottoman

478 Ibid. 479 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya: Majlis al-Mab‘ūthān yawqiẓ min raqdatihi ba‘da hujū‘hi 31 sana” (Local News: The Ottoman Parliament Awakens from its Repose After Sleeping for 31 Years), al-Ahrām, 26 C 1326/ 25 July 1908, 2.

156

opposition in Europe and in Egypt for what had taken place.480 Meanwhile, in al-Hilāl, Jurjī

Zaydān informed his readers of the restoration of the Ottoman constitution, even though the journal would not be published again for some months because the printing press was being relocated somewhere else and because he wanted to work on his History of Arabs Before

Islam.481

As these articles demonstrate, the Young Turk Revolution and the reinstitution of the

Ottoman constitution led to an upsurge of “Ottomanness,” in Egypt. The subtitle of the 25 July al-Ahrām article cited above proclaimed “Long Live Ottomanness! (‘uthmāniyya).” In addition, it is important to note that the author of the article referred to himself, and by extension to the readers, as “we Ottomans.” He noted that the telegrams announcing the reinstatement of the constitution put joy in the hearts of "all Ottomans.” The emphasis on “Ottomanness” and unity of the Ottoman people continued throughout the article. The author, for instance, argued that at that moment different segments of Ottoman society, such as the Arabs, the Greeks, and the Turks were not simply identifying with their own religious or ethnic groups but were asserting that they were “Ottomans” before everything else, as stated in the constitution. In fact, the author quoted the relevant constitutional article while also emphasizing the fact that everyone was equal under the law, regardless of religious or ethnic backgrounds.482 Similar themes were also prevalent in another article that appeared in al-Ahrām two days; here the author claimed that despite all the different religions, ethnicities, and legal rites (madhhab) that existed within the Empire the society was an "Ottoman society" without any conflict.483

480 Rashīd Riḍā, “I‘ādat al-qānūn al-asāsī wa Majlis al-Mab‘ūthān fī al-dawla al-‘aliyya” (Restoration of the Constitution and the Ottoman Parliament in the Sublime State), al-Manār, 30 Ca 1326/ 28 July 1908. 481 Jurjī Zaydān, “Al-dustūr al-‘uthmānī” (The Ottoman Constitution), al-Hilāl, 2 C 1326/ 1 July 1908, 10. 482 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya: Majlis al-Mab‘ūthān yawqiẓ min raqdatihi ba‘da hujū‘hi 31 sana” (Local News: The Ottoman Parliament Awakens from its Repose After Sleeping for 31 Years), al-Ahrām, 26 C 1326/ 25 July 1908, 2. 483 “Mā yanīlnā al-dustūr” (What the Constitution Brings Us), al-Ahrām, 28 C 1326/ 27 July 1908, 1.

157

A sense of being a part of the Ottoman community was also evident in the report that was published in al-Manār. In his article announcing the Young Turk Revolution Riḍā underlined the fact that the news of the constitution was received with joy by Ottomans in all of the provinces.

Moreover, Riḍā put forth that this “great day” was a day of festivitiy for the whole “Ottoman nation.” Like the editors of al-Ahrām, Riḍā emphasized the multiethnic composition of the people, celebrating the constitution in the streets of Egypt, reporting that “Turks, ,

Armenians and others” were congratulating each other and were shouting Ottoman slogans. As was the case with a majority of the intellectual elite, Riḍā’s tone was explicitly joyous and supportive of the Revolution. In fact, it seems that Riḍā was among the crowds who were celebrating the Ottoman constitution in Egypt since he claimed that he had given a speech in

Arabic to the crowd in a café. According to Riḍā, such speeches were mostly on the unity of the

Ottoman population disregarding their religions or their ethnicities and also about the need for all segments of the Ottoman society to come together to raise the reputation of the empire.484

Clearly, the news of the Young Turk Revolution and the reinstatement of the Ottoman constitution were celebrated by different segments of Egyptian society. These celebrations not only took place in Cairo or Alexandria but in other parts of Egypt as well. The demonstrations underlined the continuing prevalence of Ottoman consciousness in Egypt at the time while also demonstrating how various segments of the Egyptian society could participate within this

Ottoman consciousness. An article that was published in al-Ahrām described how Ḥusayn

Taymūr organized a meeting to celebrate the Ottoman constitution in the Azbakiyya Gardens, adding that thousands “flocked” to this meeting. According to the article numerous people from different backgrounds, such al-Azhar graduates, schoolmasters, and engineers gave speeches in

484 Riḍā, “I‘ādat al-qānūn al-asāsī wa Majlis al-Mab‘ūthān fī al-dawla al-‘aliyya” (Restoration of the Constitution and the Ottoman Parliament in the Sublime State), al-Manār, 30 Ca 1326/ 29 June 1908, 126.

158

praise of the constitution.485 The same article also mentioned that Egyptians from all levels of the society were happy about the reinstatement of the constitution; even more significantly, the author mentioned that there were celebrations going on all over Egypt, including in cities such as

Manṣūra.486

The next issue of al-Ahrām contained more pieces on the celebrations. For instance, one article described the public demonstrations that were held in Alexandria, where “the Ottomans” celebrated in the streets after they received the news. The author put forth that wherever he went he saw "Ottomans," whether they were Turks, Syrians, Armenians or Greeks and how they were chanting slogans for the "Ottoman nation (waṭan)," "Ottoman citizenship” (tabi‘iya), and the

Ottoman constitution.487 Another piece also reported on the same theme, this time focusing on the celebrations that were held in Cairo.488 The enthusiasm that the Egyptian society showed for the Ottoman constitution did not die down quickly, as can be seen from al-Ahrām’s continued coverage of the celebrations in Cairo and Alexandria on July 29 and 30. The article on July 29, which described the festivities in Cairo, was especially important because the author specifically mentioned Egyptians, alongside the Turks, Arabs and others as “Ottomans.”489 This description demonstrates how the sense of a distinct Egyptian identity existed side by side with the feeling of belonging to a larger “Ottoman community” that was brought together by the reinstatement of the constitution.These reports were also corroborated by a telegram sent to the from Alexandria on August 2, which stated that Ottomans of various ethnicities were

485 “Hawādith maḥalliyya: Faraḥ al-‘Uthmāniyyīn bi al-dustūr” (Local News: The Joy of the Ottomans Because of the Constitution), al-Ahrām, 28 C 1326/ 27 July 1908 2. 486 Ibid., 3. 487 “Al-Iskandariyya: Majlisnā al-niyābī wa waṭanunā wa ibnā’ wa waṭanunā” (Alexandria: Our Parliament and Our Homeland and the People of Our Homeland), al-Ahrām, 29 C 1326/ 28 July 1908, 2. 488 al-Ahrām, 29 C 1326/ 28 July 1908, 2. 489 “‘Īd al-dustūr” (Constitution Holiday), al-Ahrām, 1 B 1326/ 29 July 1908, 1.

159

participating in the demonstrations celebrating the implementation of the Ottoman constitution.490

An equally importantly, another component of this sense of belonging to the larger

Ottoman community was the sense of identification with the Sultan-Caliph. Demonstrations of loyalty to the Sultan were most evident on the celebrations of the anniversary of the cülus (the

Sultan’s accession to the throne) that took place in August. The Egyptian public used these celebrations as an opportunity to further demonstrate their support for the Ottoman constitution as well as the Ottoman sultan. Abdülhamid was carefully framed as the benefactor who granted the constitution when he felt the time was right. The public, the reports indicated, demonstrated their loyalty to him while also supporting the constitution. According to al-Ahrām special care was given to the cülus celebrations in Egypt that year. A special committee was established to organize the celebrations, and efforts were made to ensure the participation of the Egyptians, such as invitations that were made to “all the Egyptian women” to join the celebrations.491 On 1

September 1908, as al-Ahrām noted, three things were celebrated together: the cülus of

Abdülhamid, the reinstatement of the constitution, and the opening of the Hejaz Railroad.492 Al-

Manār noted receipt of telegrapms describing how, describing how Ottomans in Istanbul, Egypt,

Syria, and as far away as Brazil were celebrating the Young Turk Revolution.493 This equating of

Ottomans in Egypt with the wider Ottoman community is revealing. In the same issue, al-Manār

490 BOA, A.MTZ (05) 19/76, 4 B 1326/ 2 August 1908. 491 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya: Al-iḥtifāl bi ‘īd al-julūs” (Local News: Celebrations at the Constitution Festival), al- Ahrām, 17 B 1326/ 14 August 1908, 2. 492 “Thalātha ‘ayād fī ‘īd wāḥidan” (Three Holiday in One), al-Ahrām, 4 Ş 1326/ 1 September 1908, 1. 493 Rashīd Riḍā, “Al-Iḥtifālāt bi al-dustūr al-‘uthmānī” (Celebrations for the Ottoman Constitution), al-Manār, 29 Ş 1326/ 25 September 1908, 37.

160

also published a report of the celebrations held by the Armenians in Cairo after the constitution was reinstated.494

Thus, at a period when Egyptian nationalism was on the rise and a distinct sense of

Egyptian identity was developing, a significant part of Egyptian society continued to identify culturally with the Ottoman Empire. The fact that the 1908 Revolution was received with enthusiasm and the fact that people all over Egypt chose to celebrate the reinstatement of the

Ottoman constitution shows a that a sense of being part of the larger Ottoman community was still prevalent in Egypt, both for intellectuals and for the population at large.

The Ottoman Constitution Comes to the Rescue of Egypt

As the initial enthusiasm for the Young Turk Revolution and the restoration of the

Ottoman constitution died down, the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt started to debate what the constitution meant for the Ottoman Empire in general and how it would affect the situation of Egypt in particular. Analyzing these debates reveals that a part of Egypt’s intellectuals, like intellectuals in the rest of the Empire, conceived of the constitution as a way for the Ottoman Empire to regain its strength and become a major power that could compete with the European states. Egyptian intellectuals also argued that a stronger Ottoman Empire would be to the benefit of Egypt since they believed that a constitutional government in Istanbul would finally be able to put an end to the British occupation and solve the “Egyptian Question.”

After about a two-month hiatus, Zaydān’s al-Hilāl reappeared in October 1908, with a front page featuring photos of Enver Bey and Niyazi Bey, the two heroes of the Young Turk

Revolution. Not surprisingly, Zaydān’s main focus in this issue was the Revolution and what it implied for the Ottoman Empire. In a long article, Zaydān gave a history of the Young Turk

494 Rashīd Riḍā, “Iḥtifāl al-Arman bi ḏhikr shuhadā’ al-ḥurriya al-‘Uthmāniyyin” (Celebrations of Armenians in Memory of the Ottoman Freedom Martyrs), al-Manār, 29 Ş 1326/ 25 September 1908, 41.

161

Revolution, framing it as the last step in a chain of events that started at the beginning of the 19th century. Starting with the reign of Mahmud II, Zaydān touched upon all the main points in the

Ottoman Empire’s long quest for reform, paying specific attention to the Gülhane Edict of 1839, the Reform Edict of 1856, and the constitution of 1876. Zaydān also narrated the Abdülhamid years and the opposition to him, giving a detailed history of the Young Turk movement. Zaydān conceived of these reform efforts as a way for the Ottoman Empire to avoid the “threat of downfall” (khaṭr al-suqūṭ) and argued that the Young Turk Revolution was a successful end to this long and arduous process. At the end of the article, Zaydān expressed his hope that the

Young Turks would be able to reform the Ottoman Empire’s “finances, agriculture and military.”

He seemed optimistic about the future and stated that from what he had seen so far from the

Young Turks, a bright future awaited the Ottoman Empire.495

Yaqūb Ṣannūʿ’s Abū Naẓẓāra also joined this discussion from Paris. Ṣannūʿ, like

Egyptian intellectuals, was very enthusiastic about the restoration of the Ottoman constitution.

As he recounted in a September 1908 article, once he heard the news of the proclamation of the constitution in Paris, he decided to go to Istanbul to take part in the celebrations. Moreover, he claimed that he met Khedive Abbas Hilmi and Sultan Abdülhamid while he was there.496

Although by 1908, Abū Naẓẓāra’s influence in Egypt was not at its height, it was still an important journal for the Egyptian readers.497 In the same issue, Ṣannūʿ published an “Ode to the

Constitution” that he had delivered at a reception that was held to celebrate Abdülhamid’s cülus anniversary at the Ottoman embassy in Paris. Written in French, the ode praised the constitution as well as the Sultan, who, he believed, had made the restoration of the constitution possible,

495 Jurjī Zaydān, “Al-Inqilāb al-siyāsī al-‘uthmānī” (The Ottoman Political Coup), al-Hilāl, 6 N 1326/ 1 October 1908, 2-41. 496 Yaqūb Ṣannūʿ, “Mon voyage à et l’auguste anniversaire de l’empereur des Ottomans” (My Trip to Istanbul and the Majestic Birthday of the of the Ottomans), Abū Naẓẓāra, Ş 1326/ September 1908, 1. 497 Ziad Fahmy, Ordinary Egyptians, 48-49.

162

while also claiming that the constitution would “regenerate” and “open a new era for us,” meaning the Ottoman Empire and the Ottomans.498 This emphasis on the constitution as a force of regeneration for the Ottoman Empire and his self-identifying as an “Ottoman” is worth underlining. In yet a third article in the same issue, Ṣannūʿ expressed his belief that after this

“admirable evolution” (interestingly, Ṣannūʿ does not name the proclamation of the Ottoman constitution as a “revolution” but uses the word “evolution” to describe it), the Ottoman Empire would have a brilliant place among the civilized countries.499

Al-Ahrām similarly described the constitution as a panacea for the Ottoman territories and argued that it would lead to the strengthening of the Ottoman Empire. In announcing the proclamation of the constitution, the editors enumerated the reforms that the constitution would bring to the Ottoman Empire, listing respect for personal freedoms, equality of all Ottomans before the law, independence of the judiciary, and the parliament reining in the budget. The authors also argued that Egypt’s strength, and its independence from Britain, depended on the strength of the Ottoman Empire, which would be reinforced by the constitution.500 This form of reasoning followed the logic that Muṣṭafā Kāmil put forth in various speeches and articles, some of which were cited in the previous chapter, and also in his work on the Eastern Question, where he argued for the necessity of a powerful Ottoman Empire.501 Taken as a whole, these press articles demonstrate how intellectuals in Egypt utilized the Ottoman constitution as a way to discursively resist the British occupation, the same way they did with the Ottoman-Greek War of

1897, as was seen in the previous chapter.

498 Yaqūb Ṣannūʿ, “Ode à la constitution” (Ode to the Constitution), Abu Naẓẓara, Ş 1326, September 1908, 1. 499 Yaqūb Ṣannūʿ, “Vive la constitution Ottomane” (Long Live the Ottoman Constitution), Abu Naẓẓara, Ş 1326, September 1908, 1-2. 500 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya: Majlis al-Mab‘ūthān yawqiẓ min raqdatihi ba‘da hujū‘hi 31 sana” (Local News: The Ottoman Parliament Awakens from its Repose After Sleeping for 31 Years, al-Ahrām, 26 C 1326/ 25 July 1908, 2. 501 Muṣtafā Kāmil, Kitāb al-mas’ala al-sharqiyya (The Eastern Question) (Egypt: Matba’at al-Adab, 1898), 2-24.

163

The editors of al-Ahrām continued to focus on this theme in the following months, publishing numerous articles on it. The August 21 issue of the newspaper, for instance, featured an article entitled “Misplaced Fears.” The piece opened with a letter sent to al-Ahrām by someone who called himself “Egyptian Born” (Muwallad miṣri), who criticized the Young Turk

Revolution and expressed his worries about the new regime. He feared that the Young Turks would abandon Egypt since doing so was in their interest.502 Al-Ahrām’s editors, however, strongly refuted this claim, insisting that even though Abdülhaid had neglected the Egyptian

Question, the new regime would not. They argued that even though the Egyptian Question was among the matters that were neglected in Istanbul under the old administration, it would not be the case with the new regime. It was true, they put forth, that the new administration would not prioritize saving Egypt from the British. Rather, they would first undertake domestic reforms, which would then enable Egypt to oppose the absolute tyranny, presumably of the British.503

Four days later, al-Ahrām published a letter by one Ḥasan Naṣūḥ, reiterating the editors’ point that the “Egyptian Question” had entered a new phase with the Young Turk Revolution and the restoration of the constitution: only the perseverance of the Ottoman parliament would be able to save the rights of Egypt and “our exalted state.”504

These debates over the Ottoman constitution also took up the issue of whether Egypt should send representatives to the Ottoman parliament. On 1 September, for instance, al-Ahrām published a letter criticizing the idea that Egypt was obligated to send representatives505. Al-

Ahrām’s editors refuted the reader’s arguments, stressing that Egypt was still a part of the

502 “Khūf bi ghayr maḥallihi” (Misplaced Fears), al-Ahrām, 24 B 1326/ 21 August 1908, 1. 503 Ibid. 504 Ḥasan Naṣūḥ, “Ḥal al-mas’ala al-Miṣriyya bi yad al-barlamān al-‘Uthmānī ” (Solution of the Egyptian Question by the Ottoman Parliament), al-Ahrām, 28 B 1326/ 25 August 1908, 1. 505 “Thalātha as’ila” (Three Questoins), al-Ahrām, 4 Ş 1326/ 1 September 1908, 2.

164

Empire and underlining the continuity of the ties between Egypt and the Ottoman capital.506 This exchange reveals that an Egyptian consciousness coexisted with cultural identification with the

Ottoman Empire among the Egyptian intelligentsia.

A report sent by Nuri Bey, the chief secretary to Ahmed Muhtar Pasha,507 touched upon the same idea that was being discussed in Egypt at the time. Nuri Bey noted that ever since the proclamation of the constitution, the Egyptian people had demonstrated extraordinary affection for and loyalty to the Ottoman Empire, indicating their willingness to serve the Ottoman state in any way. Nuri Bey believed that members of the ruling elite who demonstrated such loyalty should be rewarded by being admitted to the Ottoman parliament. He even listed the names of potential representatives.508

Interestingly, the leader of the National Party of Egypt, Muḥammad Farīd, who succeeded Muṣṭafā Kāmil after the latter’s death in early 1908, was also an advocate of this idea for a time. Muḥammad Farīd came from an “Ottoman-Egyptian sociocultural background” to borrow a phrase from Toledano.509 He was descended from one Osman Efendi, who was said to have come to Egypt not long after Selim I conquered it in 1517. Farīd’s father held important positions in the Ottoman-Egyptian government as well as in Egypt’s subprovinces. His mother also traced her lineage to a prominent Egyptian household. Farīd was born in Cairo in 1868 and educated in the Khalīl Agha School, l’École des Frères, and the School of Administration. He became a lawyer but was also interested in politics. Since he came from a wealthy background, he was able to financially back Muṣṭafā Kāmil’s efforts and when Kāmil died, Farīd succeeded

506 “Jawābnā” (Our Response), al-Ahrām, 11 Ş 1326/ 7 September 1908, 2. 507 Peri, “Ottoman Symbolism,” 113-114. 508 BOA, A.MTZ (05) 19/117, 17 Z 1326/ 17 January 1909. 509 Toledano, “Muḥammad Farīd,” 72-73.

165

him as the leader of the National Party.510 Even though he was an Egyptian nationalist, particularly after the declaration of the British protectorate in 1914, Farīd also advocated close ties with the Ottoman Empire. Not surprisingly, Farīd was a supporter of the Young Turk

Revolution. In the 1912 edition of his History of the Ottoman Empire, he praised the Revolution and the reforms it brought to the Empire.511 He was a part of the that the Egyptian National Party sent to Istanbul to attend the “‘Īd al-Dustūr” (The Constitution Holiday), on 24 July 1909. As he recounted in his memoirs, he visited the Ottoman parliament together with the delegation and met with prominent figures of the new administration.512 According to Gershoni and Jankowski, the goal of this delegation was “to scout the possibility of formal Egyptian representation in the restored Ottoman parliament.”513 Considering the debates that were going on within the Egyptian intelligentsia after the Young Turk Revolution and Farīd’s personal background, it would not be surprising if he did entertained the idea of sending representatives from Egypt to the Ottoman parliament.

It may also be argued that the debates on how the Egyptian Question might be resolved under the new regime led to a renewed sense of hope among Egyptians, manifested in another form in the demonstrations against the British that were held on the twenty-sixth anniversary of the British occupation of Egypt. According to a report published in al-Ahrām, demonstrations against the British occupation were held in Alexandria on 14 September, the date that the British had entered Egypt. A crowd gathered and speeches were made, criticizing the British occupation

510 ‘Abd al-Raḥmān al-Rafi‘ī, Muḥammad Farīd: Ramz al-ikhlas wa al-tadhiya (Cairo: Dār al-Ma‘ārif, 1984), 23- 57; Toledano, “Muḥammad Farīd,” 78-80. 511 Muḥammad Farīd, Tarikh al-dawla al-‘aliyya al-‘uthmaniyya (History of the Ottoman Empire) (Cairo: Maṭba’at al-Taqaddum, 1912), 406-415. 512 Muḥammad Farīd, Awrāq Muḥammad Farīd, Vol 1: Mudhakkirati ba‘da al-hijra (1904-1919) (Papers of Muḥammad Farīd, Vol 1: My Memories after Emigrating, (1904-1919)) (Cairo: Markaz wathā’iq wa tārīkh Miṣr al- al-mu‘āṣir, 1978), 63-65. 513 Gershoni and Jankowski, Egypt, Islam, and the Arabs, 7.

166

and emphasizing the close links that existed between the Ottoman Empire and Egypt.514 These demonstrations were another manifestation of how the intellectuals and the public in Egypt utilized the renewed sense of Ottoman consciousness that was evident at this time in Egypt as a tool to resist the British occupation.

The examples above emphasize two important points. First, they demonstrate how

Arabic-speaking intellectuals in Egypt perceived the Ottoman constitution as a cure for all the ills that the Ottoman Empire was facing at the time. According to these views, the reforms that the constitution and the new administration were going to introduce would enable the Ottoman

Empire to regain its strength and face the European powers. These arguments were in line with what intellectuals and others in the rest of the Empire expected of the constitution. More specifically, however, the reinstatement of the constitution and the regeneration of the Empire were important for Egypt since a stronger Ottoman Empire would have a better chance of protecting the rights of Egypt and ending the British occupation.

The Ottoman Constitution as a Model for Egypt

The Young Turk Revolution of 1908 and the restoration on of the Ottoman constitution also led to calls, primarily by Egypt’s intellectual elite, for a constitution to be proclaimed in

Egypt. In this context, the Ottoman constitution provided a blueprint for the intellectuals in

Egypt to emulate, underlining once again the prevalence of an Ottoman mentality in Egypt.

One such call for an Egyptian constitution came from Yaqūb Ṣannūʿ. When the Ottoman constitution was proclaimed in July 1908, Ṣannūʿwent to Istanbul from Paris to attend the celebrations. He met with Khedive Abbas, who, he hoped would soon grant a constitution to

514 “Al-Iskandariyya: Al-iḥtijāj ‘alā al-iḥtilāl al-inkilīzī” (Alexandria: Protest Against the British Occupation), al- Ahrām, 19 Ş 1326/ 15 September 1908, 2.

167

Egypt.515 In another piece that he wrote in “rhyming prose,” Ṣannūʿ once again indicated his desire for the constitution to be implemented in Egypt. Interestingly, however, this time he makes his plea to Britain to let the constitution “enter” Egypt, adding immediately after that

Egypt was the most valuable “jewel” of the Ottoman Empire and that it should not be abandoned.516

Another important figure, who called for an Egyptian constituion was Aḥmad Shafīq, a civil servant and historian, who was so close to Khedive Abbas Hilmi, that he followed him into exile during World War I. His memoirs, which he penned after the War, provide insight into the political situation in the Ottoman Empire and Egypt in the late 19th and the early 20th century.517

Not surprisingly, Shafīq paid considerable attention to the 1908 Revolution. He put forth that already in 1908, the nationalist movement in Egypt had gained unprecedented influence and that people were becoming more involved in politics. More importantly, however, Shafīq argued that the declaration of the Ottoman constitution had a profound impact in the province. He also recounted the negotiations that took place between the Egyptian ruling elite and the British representatives about the implementation of a constitution in Egypt.518

Muḥammad Farīd also drew attention to these demands for a constitution to be instituted in Egypt. Unlike Shafīq, however, Farīd was against making any compromises with the British.

In a speech that he gave on August 10 in Alexandria, Farīd praised the Ottoman constitution and argued that the Ottoman constitutional movement could be an example for Egyptians. He asserted that the Egyptians’ main goal should be ensuring the British evacuation of Egypt

515 Yaqūb Ṣannūʿ, “Mon voyage à Constantinople et l’auguste anniversaire de l’empereur des Ottomans” (My Trip to Istanbul and the Majestic Birthday of the Emperor of the Ottomans), Abu Naẓẓāra, Ş 1326/ September 1908, 1. 516 Yaqūb Ṣannūʿ, “Inauguration solennelle de l’ouverture du parlement Ottoman” (Solemn Inauguration of the Opening of the Ottoman Parliament), Abū Naẓẓāra, Z 1326/ January 1909, 1-2. 517 Goldschmidt, Jr. “Shafīq, Ahmad” in Biographical Dictionary of Modern Egypt, 186. 518 Aḥmad Shafīq, Muḏakkirātī fī niṣf qarn (My Memories in Half a Century), Vol 3 (āl-Qāhirah: āl-Hay’ah āl- Mısriyya āl-Ammah lil Kitāb, 1994), 153-158.

168

criticizing anyone would settle for British reforms in Egypt. Farīd insisted on evacuation before a constitution.519 Delivered only two weeks after the Young Turk Revolution, this speech examplifies the idea that the Ottoman Empire could be a model for Egypt and that Egypt should follow the Ottomans in adopting a constitution.

Some Egyptian intellectuals even called on the Sultan to intercede with the Khedive to proclaim a constitution in Egypt. As was customary, the Khedive undertook his yearly visit to

Istanbul in August 1908. According to al-Ahrām, many Egyptians sent telegrams to the Sultan asking him to use the occasion to convince the Khedive to grant the constitution. Nevertheless, al-Ahrām’s editors seemed to favor the delegation that had gone to London to urge the British to implement reforms in Egypt, a solution that Farīd had explicitly rejected. Al-Ahrām editors stressed the importance of building up Egypt’s military to support constitutional rule, particularly while the British held the reins of power in Egypt.520 Their emphasis on the military was informed by the Young Turk Revolution. Al-Ahrām’s editors also advocated a delay in introducing a constitution, lest the British take credit for it and increase their control over

Egyptian affairs.521

The question of the declaration of a constitution in Egypt continued to be a relevant topic at the end of September 1908. After visiting the Sultan in Istanbul and going to London, the

Khedive returned to Egypt in September. In an article published soon after, al-Ahrām reported that the Khedive did not broach the topic of the constitution in his meetings with the King of

Britain or the British Foreign Minister. More importantly, however, al-Ahrām stated that upon the Khedive’s return to Egypt, there were demonstrations, organized by one Maḥmūd Ḥasib Bey,

519 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya: Khiṭāb Farīd Beg” (Local News: Ferid Bey’s Speech), al-Ahrām, 20 B 1326/ 17 August 1908, 2. 520 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya: wasāṭat jalālat al-sulṭān” (Local News: Intervention of the H.I.M the Sultan), al-Ahrām, 24 B 1326/ 21 August 1908, 2. 521 Ibid.

169

demanding the proclamation of a constitution.522 A week later, al-Ahrām reported on further pro- constitution demonstrations in Alexandria. The crowd, which included members from the

Egyptian National Party, struggled with the police as it tried to reach Rās al-Tīn Palace.

According to the report, when the Khedive appeared, the crowd started shouting “Long Live the

Khedive! Long Live the Constitution! Long Live Egypt!” effectively putting an end to the demonstrations.523 Finally, on October 3 and October 5, al-Ahrām reported in detail on the discussions that took place within the Egyptian Majlis al-Shūra on demands coming from various segments of the Egyptian population for the implementation of a constitution, and whether these demands should be met.524

The examples mentioned above provide additional evidence for the idea that the Young

Turk Revolution and the restoration of the Ottoman constitution had a major impact in Egypt, both among the intelligentsia and among wider segments of the society. As was seen in the previous section, the Egyptian intelligentsia perceived the Ottoman constitution as a “cure” for all the ills that the Empire was facing and as a way for the Ottoman Empire to reform itself and become more powerful. Thus, the restoration of the Ottoman constitution led to calls for similar action in Egypt, triggering debate within the intellectual and ruling elites. These developments indicate that for the ruling and intellectual elite in Egypt, the Ottoman Empire continued to provide a model and a cultural anchor. Nonetheless, there were few calls for the implementation of the Ottoman constitution in Egypt, indicating that Egyptians had already developed a separate political identity. Nevertheless, it is also evident that the debates on constitutional rule became

522 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya: Ba‘da ‘awdat al-amīr” (Local News: After the Return of the Ruler), al-Ahrām, 25 Ş 1326/ 21 September 1908, 2. 523 “Muẓāhara fī sebīl al-dustūr” (Demonstration with the Goal of a Constitution), al-Ahrām, 3 N 1326/ 28 September 1908, 1. 524 “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya: Fī Majlis al-Shūrā” (Local News: In the Parliament), al-Ahrām, 8 N 1326/ 3 October 1908, 2; “Ḥawādith maḥalliyya: Fī Majlis al-Shūrā” (Local News: In the Parliament), al-Ahrām, 10 N 1326/ 5 October 1908, 2.

170

much more urgent and relevant after the Young Turk Revolution, underlining the impact that the

Revolution of 1908 had in Egypt.

The Boycott Against the Austria-Hungarian Empire

Finally, this chapter will argue that Egypt’s participation in the Empire-wide boycott against the Austria-Hungarian Empire’s annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina was another manifestation of the “Ottoman consciousness” that existed in Egypt early in the 20th century. In these boycotts Egyptians again demonstrated their solidarity with the rest of the Ottoman population.

As a result of , which eneded the Ottoman-Russian War of 1877-1878,

Bosnia-Herzegovina remained under Ottoman sovereignty but it was in name only and Austria-

Hungary had the right to occupy it.525 Almost immediately after the Young Turk Revolution in

1908, Austria-Hungary annexed the territory out of fears that the Young Turk government would threaten Habsburg control.526 For the Young Turks, whose main agenda was the preservation of the Empire, this move by Austria-Hungary was a major blow. Militarily, there was not much that the CUP could do.527 They did, however, manage to organize an effective boycott of Austrian goods, in which Ottomans from different parts of the Empire participated.

Since the early 19th century, Austria-Hungary had expanded its commercial and financial interests in the Ottoman Empire, especially in the . By the time of the Crimean War, the

Habsburg Empire had established profitable trade relations with Syria and Egypt. Even though it never managed to become an economic superpower like Britain or France, Austria-Hungary did

525 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 85; Hanioğlu, A Brief History, 121. 526 Donald Quataert, “An Essay on Economic Relations Between the Ottoman and Habsburg Empires, 1800-1914,” in Habsburgish-osmaniche Beziehungen: Relations Habsburg-ottomanes. Wien, 26-30, September 1983. Colloque sous le patronage du Comité international des études pré-ottomanes et ottomans, published by Andreas Tietze (Vienna: Verlag des Verbandes der wissenschaftlichen Gesselschaften Österreichs, 1985), 247. 527 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 215; Hanioğlu, A Brief History, 168.

171

achieve economic penetration of the Ottoman Empire by time the Young Turk Revolution took place.528 These financial interests were sufficiently big for the Young Turk leaders to believe that a boycott against them would be an effective diplomatic move. Donald Quataert demonstrates that by 1908, Austria-Hungary was a perfect target for an Ottoman boycott. The Habsburgs’ exports to the Ottoman Empire were double its imports from the region, meaning that the

Ottoman Empire was much more important for the economy of the Austria-Hungarian Empire than vice versa. As a result of the boycott, which lasted from October 1908 to February 1909,

Austria-Hungary ended up paying the Ottoman Empire a 2.5 million-lira indemnity for annexing

Bosnia-Herzegovina.529 As Michelle Campos puts it the boycott drew on the experience of the

“developing world” and could be described a “weapon of the weak” to “protest against the unequal fortunes of the nonindustrial, peripheral East and the industrial, colonizing West.”530

This “weapon of the weak” enabled the Young Turks to save face and claim a diplomatic victory.

The press in Egypt, both the daily newspapers and monthly journals, paid close attention to Austria’s annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina and the Ottoman reaction that followed. On 9

October 1908, for instance, al-Ahrām informed its readers of the annexation of Bosnia-

Herzegovina by Austria, as well as Bulgaria’s declaration of independence and Crete’s unification with Greece.531 The tone of the article was not indignant, however, as the author argued that the Ottoman Empire had sovereignty over these provinces in name only and that it

528 Roman Misek, “The Background of Austrian Economic Influence in Egypt, Sudan and the Levant: Outline of Historical Survey of the 19th Century” in Egyptian Revival in Bohemia, 1850-1920: Orientalism and Egyptomania in Czech Lands, ed. Hana Navrátilová (Prague: Set Out, 2003), 12-24. 529 Quataert, “An Essay on Economic Relations Between the Ottoman and Habsburg Empires, 1800-1914,” 247-249; Donald Quataert, “The Ottoman Boycott Against Austria-Hungary” in Social Disintegration and Popular Resistance in the Ottoman Empire, 1881-1909: Reactions to European Economic Penetration, ed. Donald Quataert (New York: New York University Press, 1983), 121-125. 530 Campos, Ottoman Brothers, 100. 531 “Mawqif al-dawla al-‘aliyya ārā’ Urūbbā” (The Sublime State’s Stance vis-à-vis Europe), al-Ahrām, 14 N 1326/ 9 October 1908, 1.

172

would be better if the Ottomans focused more on reforming the Empire and strengthening its army.532 Moreover, on October 16 al-Ahrām reported on the international conference that was held to resolve the issue533 while the next day the newspaper published the results of this conference.534 Riḍā also reported on the annexation of Bosnia in al-Manār although he protested it in harsher terms than the editors of al-Ahrām.535

More relevant for this analysis’s purposes, however, was the fact that the papers in Egypt were following the protests that were going on against these annexations in the rest of the

Ottoman Empire, paying particular attention to the Arab provinces. On October 15, for instance, in a piece about the Bulgarian crisis, al-Ahrām informed its readers that crowds in Beirut were protesting against Austria and Bulgaria.536 The same issue featured another article about the boycott of Austrian goods that had been going on in Syria, Lebanon, and Palestine, particularly in the urban centers such as Beirut, Damascus, and .537 Al-Manār also focused on the boycotts, labeling them as an “economic struggle.”538 These reports, which indicated widespread participation all over the Empire, corroborate the fact the boycotts proved to be another means for the Ottoman community to perform their Ottoman consciousness, especially at a time when the Empire was perceived to be in danger.539

The reports published in the newspapers indicate that Egypt was very much involved in boycotting Austrian goods. On October 21, al-Ahrām published a letter from a reader, Muṣṭafā

532 Ibid. 533 “Turkiyā wa al-duwal wa al-mu’tamar” (Turkey and the [European Powers] and the Conference), al-Ahrām, 21 N 1326/ 16 October 1908, 1. 534 “Jaww mukfahirr munḏir: Natā’ij al-mu’atamar” (Gloomy Weather Warning: Results of the Conference), al- Ahrām, 22 N 1326/ 17 October 1908, 1. 535 Rashīd Riḍā, “Al-dawla al-‘aliyya wa Bulghāriyā wa al-Nimsā” (The Sublime State and Bulgaria and Austria), al-Manār, 29 L 1326/ 23 November 1908, 77-80. 536 “Juyūsh Turkiyā wa Bulghāriyā” (Turkish and Bulgarian Armies), al-Ahrām, 20 N 1326/ 15 October 1908, 1. 537 “Natā’ij al-dustūr” (Results of the Constitution), al-Ahrām, 20 N 1326/ 15 October 1908, 2. 538 Riḍā, “Al-dawla al-‘aliyya wa Bulghāriyā wa al-Nimsā” (The Sublime State and Bulgaria and Austria), al- Manār, 29 L 1326/ 23 November 1908, 77-80. 539 Campos, Ottoman Brothers, 94-98.

173

Shamsī, who supported the Ottoman boycott of Austrian goods. He argued that even though the focus of the boycott in Egypt was mostly on the tarboosh or , produced in Austria, it should be remembered that most other articles of Western clothing were also produced in Austria. He felt that “we Egyptians” should replace these clothes that were produced in Austria with fabrics that were coming from London or Paris.540

Another pro-boycott letter from a reader who called himself “Egyptian Born,” expressed fear that the movement would die down soon in Egypt and that “our state,” meaning the Ottoman

Empire, would think that Egypt did not have the strength to sustain it. The author argued that the

“blessed movement” did not cause any discomfort in Egypt and that he hoped that Egypt would persevere in this effort. He recommended forming committees to implement the boycott, which he labeled a “seizure of Austrian business.” These committees would try to persuade wholesale and retail merchants to refrain from doing business with Austrian merchants. The author also suggested that shops trading in “non-Austrian” merchandise should attach clear labels to their goods indicating their countries of origin. Finally, the author encouraged the newspapers to guide the public in observing the boycott.541 Another in the same issue reported on the boycott in

Alexandria, noting its success: “not one of the citizens,” the author claimed, visited shops selling

Austrian goods; other shops, meanwhile, displayed Ottoman, Greek and Italian .542 Another piece a week later, called the boycott a “national issue,” and presented it as a way to support the

Ottoman Empire.543

540 Muṣṭafā Shamsī, “‘Āṭifat miṣrī” (Egyptian Sentiment), al-Ahrām, 26 N 1326/ 21 October 1908, 2. 541 “Muṣādarat al-baḍā’i al-nimsāwiyya: Hall tujid al-dawla al-‘aliyya musā‘ada fi‘liyya min al-Miṣriyyin?” (Seizure of Austrian Goods: Will the Sublime State Find Actual Help from the Egyptians?), al-Ahrām, 27 N 1326/ 22 October 1908, 1. 542 “Al-Iskandariyya: Muqāṭa’at al-baḍā’i al-nimsāwiyya” (Alexandria: Boycott of Austrian Goods), al-Ahrām, 27 N 1326/ 22 October 1908, 2. 543 “Al-Iskandariyya: Muqāṭa’at al-baḍā’i al-nimsāwiyya” (Alexandria: Boycott of Austrian Goods), al-Ahrām, 4 L 1326/ 29 October 1908, 2.

174

Further research is needed to determine the full scope of the boycott of Austrian goods in

Egypt. Nevertheless, the analysis above demonstrates that the Ottoman boycott of 1908 was in fact implemented in Egypt. Like people in the other parts of the Empire, the population of Egypt took a stand against the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina by Austria-Hungary and made their discontent evident by boycotting Austrian goods. Participating in the boycott was a way for the

Egyptian population to perform their Ottomanness in the public sphere. At a time when a distinct

Egyptian consciousness was developing, this show of solidarity with the Ottoman Empire was another indication of the continuing Ottoman mentality in Egypt.

Conclusion

The Young Turk revolution was a watershed event in the Ottoman Empire’s history. How the revolution reverberated in the Arab provinces has been analyzed in the secondary literature.

The scholarship is fairly silent, however, on how it was received in Egypt. This chapter has contributed to this debate by focusing on how the Egyptian intelligentsia and the wider Egyptian public reacted to the Revolution. It demonstrated that the Young Turk Revolution was a moment when the “Ottoman consciousness” in Egypt clearly manifested itself, both within the ruling and intellectual elite, and among the wider Egyptian public.

The Egyptian intelligentsia in Egypt followed the events in Macedonia, where the

Revolution began, closely and interpreted them as a “life and death” issue for the Ottoman

Empire. Once the Revolution succeeded, the press in Egypt reported on it in highly positive terms, sharing the enthusiasm of intellectuals in other parts of the Empire. Moreover, the wider

Egyptian public demonstrated their sense of “Ottomanness” by participating in celebrations of the restoration of the Ottoman constitution. Like intellectuals elsewhere in the Empire, Egyptian intellectuals perceived of the constitution as a cure for all the problems that the Ottoman Empire

175

faced at the time, believing that it would strengthen the Ottoman state, which would in turn lead to the solution of the Egyptian Question and the end of the British occupation. Moreover, the restoration of the Ottoman constitution fueled debates on the implementation of a constitution in

Egypt, emphasizing the cultural importance of the Ottoman Empire for the intelligentsia and the ruling elite in Egypt. Finally, the Ottoman boycott against Austria-Hungary allowed wide segments of the Egyptian population to perform their Ottomanness by participating in this

Empire-wide protest against the annexation of Bosnia-Herzegovina by the Habsburg Empire, underlining once again the continuing Ottoman mentality that existed in Egypt at the time.

176

Chapter 4: The Balkan Wars and Ottoman Consciousness in Egypt

Introduction

The 1908 Revolution and the restoration of the Ottoman constitution led to an upsurge of hope for the future among people from various ethnic, religious, and socioeconomic backgrounds throughout the Ottoman Empire, including in Egypt, as was demonstrated in the previous chapter. Even though it was called a “revolution,” the real goal of the Committee of Union and

Progress (CUP) in staging the 1908 uprising was in fact more conservative: to save the Empire from disintegration.544 According to the CUP and their supporters, the constitution would be the key for what they set out to achieve, as it would provide solutions for all of the problems that the

Empire was facing at the time.545 It did not take long for the Ottomans to realize, however, that the ideal that the CUP promoted was not compatible with the harsh realities of the day.

As was also mentioned before, the first dent to the CUP’s image as the “savior and protector of the Empire” came right after the Revolution, when Austria-Hungary annexed

Bosnia-Herzegovina, and Bulgaria declared its independence.546 Even though these were major blows for the Ottoman Empire, however, the real disaster was in fact yet to come. In September

1911, after months of tension, Italy invaded the Ottoman province of Tripoli (modern-day

Libya). Defending Tripoli was important for the Ottoman prestige in the wider Muslim world and the Ottoman government tried to manage this feat until , when a much more urgent danger materialized in the Balkans.547 The Balkan states of Bulgaria, Greece, and

Montenegro completed alliances among themselves and launched a coordinated attack against

544 Hanioğlu, A Brief History, 150-151; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 193-194. 545 Sohrabi, Revolution and Constitutionalism, 19-20. 72-78. 546 Eugene Rogan, The Fall of the Ottomans: The Great War in the Middle East (New York: Basic Books, 2015), 7- 8. 547 Andrew Mango, Atatürk (London: John Murray, 1999), 106; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 205.

177

the Ottomans. The results were calamitous. The Ottoman military suffered multiple defeats and at the end of the wars in 1913, the Empire lost almost all of its Balkan territories, save for part

Thrace, which included the city of Edirne.

The aftermath of the Balkan Wars sent shockwaves through the Ottoman realm. The loss of Balkan territories, which many Ottomans considered to be the “historical core” of the Empire, triggered soul-searching among Ottoman intellectuals. They started discussing the future of the

Empire. Not surprisingly, these defeats also drew various reactions from the Arab provinces, including Egypt, even though the scholarship on this issue is still lacking.

One notable exception to this gap in the scholarship is the work of Eyal Ginio, who has work analyzed the Balkan Wars in their various aspects. In one such piece, in which he focuses on the Arab reactions to the Balkan Wars, Ginio demonstrates how the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of the Empire responded to the calamities that the Ottomans suffered in these wars.548 This chapter will take Ginio’s work as a starting point and utilize Egyptian reactions to the Balkan Wars as another lens through which to analyze whether a sense of Ottoman consciousness continued to exist in Egypt.

The chapter will present three main arguments. First, it will demonstrate that even though at this stage, Egyptian intellectuals emphasized more strongly the idea of a distinct “Egyptian consciousness” and questioned their role in the Ottoman realm, the notion of being part of a wider Ottoman cultural milieu was still strong among them during the Balkan Wars. This

Ottoman mentality can be observed in the way the Arabic-speaking intellectuals responded to the losses in the Balkan Wars. Moreover, a closer reading of the language they utilized in their responses demonstrates how they identified with the Ottoman Empire and the figure of Sultan-

548 Eyal Ginio, “Making Sense of the Defeat in the Balkan Wars: Voices from the Arab Provinces” in War and Nationalism: The Balkan Wars, 1912-1913, and Their Sociopolitical Implications, eds. M. Hakan Yavuz and Isa Blumi (Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 2013), 614.

178

Caliph. In addition, news of rare Ottoman successes, such as the retaking of Edirne during the

Second Balkan War, was reported with joy in the Arabic-language press. Like intellectuals in other parts of the Ottoman domains, the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt engaged with the question of the future of the Empire during and after the Balkan Wars. Topics such as the causes of defeat, the role of Istanbul as the capital of the Ottoman Empire, and the need for reforms in the Arab provinces, the importance of which for the Empire increased after the loss of the Balkan territories, occupied the Egyptian intellectuals to a great extent as they contributed to the intellectual environment of the wider Ottoman world in the “post-Balkan Wars” era. These debates themselves reflect the continuing presence of an Ottoman mentality in Egypt on the eve of the First World War.

The chapter’s second argument is that like the intellectuals, the wider Egyptian public also demonstrated their solidarity with the Ottoman Empire by various means during and after the Balkan Wars. As was the case with the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897, donations collected for the Ottoman army and the Ottoman civilians affected by the war, reflected a persistent Ottoman consciousness within the Egyptian society during the Balkan Wars. The campaign to collect donations in Egypt started during Italy’s invasion of Tripoli and continued throughout the Balkan

Wars. Numerous segments of the population from different parts of Egypt contributed to the donations. The names of the donors were published daily in the newspapers, providing an opportunity for the Egyptian public to visibly claim their “Ottomanness” at a time when the

Empire needed their support. Once the wars had ended, the Egyptians also participated in fund- raising to re-build the , the weakness of which proved to be one of the key factors why the Ottoman military suffered such heavy defeats during the Balkan Wars.

179

This chapter will also demonstrate that the members of the Ottoman-Egyptian elite, including the khedivial family, contributed significantly to the efforts to support the Ottoman

Empire during the Balkan Wars, whether by building an orphanage in Istanbul for the children affected by the war, by volunteering in the Ottoman army or by providing relief to the refugees fleeing the lost Balkan territories.

Connected to the subject of the refugees, is the role that the Egyptian Red Crescent played during and in the aftermath of the Balkan Wars. As mentioned before, the Ottomans suffered heavy casualties during the war and had to retreat in a haphazard manner, leaving the

Muslim inhabitants of the region to their fates. As a result, a massive refugee crisis emerged. The

Egyptian Red Crescent, headed by Ömer Tosun Pasha, who was a member of the khedivial family, played a significant role in alleviating this crisis. Members of the Egyptian Red Crescent tended to the Ottoman soldiers in different theaters of the war, while also providing relief services to refugees trying to reach Ottoman territory from the locales that had to be abandoned by the Ottoman military. I argue that this show of support by the Egyptian Red Crescent reveals the ties that continued to exist between the Ottoman Empire and Egypt at this time, while also showing how the Egyptians continued to identify with the Ottoman Empire in times of crisis.

This chapter opens with a narrative of the Balkan Wars, followed by an analysis of the debates among Egyptian intellectuals after the Balkan Wars, which once again demonstrate how

Arabic-speaking Egyptian intellectuals actively participated in the Ottoman cultural milieu.

A Chronology of the Balkan Wars

As was seen in the previous chapter, the Macedonian crisis was one of the main problems that the Ottoman Empire had to deal with beginning in the late 19th century. In 1912, while the

Ottomans were trying to defend Tripoli against an Italian invasion, they had to suddenly shift

180

their attention to a new threat in the Balkans, namely the increasing aggression of what came to be known as the “” nations, consisting of Bulgaria, Greece, Serbia, and

Montenegro. Scholars point out that the Ottomans’ war against Italy provided fresh impetus for these nations to seek alliances amongst themselves, which eventually led them to declare war against the Ottoman Empire.549 In fact, these four Balkan states had already started forming alliances by 1910. In 1912, while the Ottoman Empire was bogged down in its prolonged war with Italy over Tripoli, the Balkan states intensified their efforts.550 In March 1912, Serbia and

Bulgaria signed an agreement, followed by a pact between Greece and Bulgaria in May. Finally, after Montenegro joined this alliance in September, the circle was complete and the “Balkan

League” was established.551 The diplomatic role that Russia played in this process should also be emphasized.552

At this stage, the Ottomans were not too worried about the diplomatic developments in the Balkans. Even when the Balkan nations started to mobilize and delivered an ultimatum to the

Ottoman Empire, demanding reforms in Macedonia, the mood of the Ottoman public was very confident, expecting an easy victory. In fact, when Ahmed Muhtar Pasha, who led the Ottoman cabinet at this time, advised caution, the CUP labeled it as a weakness and mobilized the press to

549 Francesco Caccamo, “The Balkan Wars in the Italian Perspective,” in War and Nationalism: The Balkan Wars, 1912-1913, and Their Sociopolitical Implications, eds. M. Hakan Yavuz and Isa Blumi (Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 2013), 233-234. 550 Bilgin Çelik, Balkan İttifakı ve Osmanlı Diplomasisi (Istanbul: İstanbul Bilgi Üniversitesi Yayınları, 2019), 105- 132; Richard C. Hall, The Balkan Wars, 1912-1913: Prelude to the First World War (London: Routledge, 2000), 9- 12. 551 Gül Tokay, “Ottoman Diplomacy, the Balkan Wars and the Great Powers,” in The Wars before the Great War: Conflict and International Politics before the Outbreak of the First World, eds. Dominik Geppert, William Mulligan, and Andreas Rose (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 61; Çelik, Balkan İttifakı ve Osmanlı Diplomasisi, 135-145, Hall, The Balkan Wars, 11-13; Gingeras, Fall of the Sultanate, 79; Hanioğlu, A Brief History, 171. 552 Gül Tokay, “The Origins of the Balkan Wars: A Reinterpretation,” in in War and Nationalism: The Balkan Wars, 1912-1913, and Their Sociopolitical Implications, eds. M. Hakan Yavuz and Isa Blumi (Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 2013), 183-187.

181

whip up public opinion in favor of war.553 Once the war commenced, however, it quickly became clear that this confidence was misplaced. From the start of the war in mid-October to the cease- fire agreement at the beginning of December, the Ottomans suffered heavy defeats by the Balkan

League armies on almost all fronts. While the Bulgarians besieged Edirne and moved towards

Çatalca, which was the last line of defense before Istanbul, the Greeks captured Salonica and the

Serbs advanced towards Monastir and Skopje. By the time an armistice was declared on 3

December 1912, the Ottomans had lost all their territories in Rumelia, except for the besieged cities of Edirne, İşkodra and Yanya.554

Two interrelated conferences were held in London in to put an end to the war. The first, held in St. James’s Palace, involved the representatives of the Balkan League states and the Ottoman Empire. The Balkan states demanded that the Ottomans leave all of all the territories east of a line that ran between Enos on the and Midia on the

Sea, in addition to handing over the of , , and

Tenedos to Greece. The Ottomans also had to renounce their rights over Crete. The most contentious issue was the cession of Edirne to Bulgaria, something that the Ottomans adamantly refused to do. When neither side budged from its position, the talks broke down on 6 January

1913.555 Meanwhile, in the second conference, convened in London, the ambassadors of the

Great Powers signatories of the 1878 Berlin Peace Treaty tried to come up with a viable solution to the Balkan War that would prevent it from escalating into a full-blown European conflict. At the end of this conference, the Great Powers presented a note to the Ottoman government on

January 17, demanding that the Ottomans cede Edirne to Bulgaria and leave the issue of the four

553 Eyal Ginio, The Ottoman Culture of Defeat: The Balkan Wars and their Aftermath (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016), 27-33. 554 Hall, The Balkan Wars, 22-69; Ginio, The Ottoman Culture of Defeat, 34-55; Gingeras, Fall of the Sultanate, 80- 82; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 206. 555 Hall, The Balkan Wars, 70-72, Tokay, “Ottoman Diplomacy, the Balkan Wars and the Great Powers,” 67-69.

182

Aegean islands to the mediation of the European states.556 The government of Kamil

Pasha responded by proposing that Edirne should become an international city governed by representatives chosen by the signatories of the Berlin Treaty, whereas he refused the European demands concerning the Aegean islands due to their importance for the defense of the Empire.557

Kamil Pasha’s proposal on Edirne precipitated what came to be known as the “Bab-ı Ali

Incident” on 23 , when a group of CUP officers, led by Enver, stormed the headquarters of the Ottoman government, killing Minister of War Nazım Pasha and forcing

Kamil Pasha to resign. As a result of this coup, the CUP took the reins of power once again and formed a new government under Mahmud Şevket Pasha.558

Since the coup had been triggered by the possibility that the Kamil Pasha government might cede Edirne to the Bulgarians, the new CUP government was determined to do anything necessary to save the city, which was still under at this point. Once the war resumed, however, things did not go as the CUP had planned. The Ottomans launched a counteroffensive in early February to dislodge the Bulgarians from the peninsula and provide support for the defense of Edirne. Nevertheless, the operation failed miserably. In early March, Yanya fell, followed by İşkodra in late April. The capitulation of Edirne to the Bulgarians on 26 March

1913, however, was the heaviest blow for the Ottomans. In the end, the Ottoman Empire had no other option but to sign a peace treaty, which was concluded in London on 31 May 1913. As a result, the Ottomans had to recognize the gains that the Balkan League states had made in Thrace and Macedonia, effectively giving up all the territories west of the “Midia-Enos Line.”559

Luckily for the Ottomans, the start of the among the former Balkan allies

556 Hall, The Balkan Wars, 72-74; Tokay, “Ottoman Diplomacy, the Balkan Wars and the Great Powers,” 69. 557 Tokay, “Ottoman Diplomacy, the Balkan Wars and the Great Powers,” 69-70. 558 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 206; Hanioğlu, A Brief History, 156-157, 173; Gingeras, Fall of the Sultanate, 83; Rogan, The Fall of the Ottomans, 19-20. 559 Gingeras, Fall of the Sultanate, 85.

183

over the spoils of war provided an opportunity to take Edirne back from the Bulgarians. The

CUP seized this opportunity and the Ottoman army retook Edirne on 22 July 1913, despite protests from the European states against this fait accompli. The Balkan Wars finally came to an end when the Ottoman Empire signed separate peace treaties with Bulgaria, Greece and Serbia at the end of 1913 and the beginning of 1914.560

The psychological effects of the Balkan Wars on the Ottoman public were both immediate and long-lasting. The fact that the Ottomans had lost the territories that they had ruled since the 1300s and that many considered to be the main core of the Empire to the Balkan states, which had been under Ottoman rule until very recently, was extremely traumatic. In his book on the Balkan Wars, Eyal Ginio labels this trauma as a “culture of defeat” and argues that the catastrophic results of the Balkan Wars “produced a blunt, emotional and deep public debate that can explain later trajectories, dynamics of cultural and social identifications and perceptions characterizing Ottoman society during the First World War and in the final years before the empire's demise.”561 According to Ginio, the defeats suffered in the Balkan Wars led Ottoman intellectuals to a process of “soul-searching.”562 Funda Selçuk Şirin also argues that the Balkan

Wars led to a loss of self-confidence and a “growing sense of insecurity” among Ottoman intellectuals, who put forth varying opinions on the causes of the defeat and what the future of the Empire should look like.563 According to Şirin, most Ottoman intellectuals rejected the idea of Ottomanism after the Balkan Wars and leaned more towards a “national” ideology of

560 Tokay, “Ottoman Diplomacy, the Balkan Wars and the Great Powers,” 71-74; Gingeras, Fall of the Sultanate, 90-92; Hall, The Balkan Wars, 118-119, 125-27. 561 Ginio, The Ottoman Culture of Defeat, 3-4. 562 Ibid., 74. 563 Funda Selçuk Şirin, “The Traumatic Legacy of the Balkan Wars for the Turkish Intellectuals,” in War and Nationalism: The Balkan Wars, 1912-1913, and Their Sociopolitical Implications, eds. M. Hakan Yavuz and Isa Blumi (Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 2013), 681, 684-686.

184

Turkism, with Anatolia as the main center.564 Ramazan Hakkı Öztan, however, disputes this view, asserting that the Balkan Wars “led to the emergence of a vibrant and versatile public sphere wherein intellectuals and politicians openly discussed the future of the empire.”565 The

“return to Anatolia,” Öztan argues, emerged only gradually as the CUP’s solution.566 In fact,

Öztan demonstrates that immediately following the Balkan Wars, the ideas of “revenge” or a

“reconquest” of the Balkan territories were still discussed among the Ottoman intelligentsia.567

After the loss of the Balkan territories, the Arab provinces became even more important for the Ottoman Empire. In fact, as Hasan Kayalı argues, the CUP adopted a policy of

Ottomanism laden with Islamic motifs towards the remaining Arab provinces.568 Nevertheless, reaction to the Balkan Wars in the Arab provinces has not been analyzed thoroughly. Kayalı claims that calls for reform from the Arab provinces increased after the Ottoman defeat in the

Balkan Wars.569 More recently, Eyal Ginio has focused on Arab responses to the Balkan Wars.

He argues that “Arab authors shared many of the main features that appeared in Turkish writings regarding the Ottoman rout in the Balkan Wars: shock, humiliation, victimhood, disappointment, and rage over what they perceived as the West’s hypocrisy. They likewise agreed with the need to rebuild the Ottoman state on a more solid basis.”570 Ginio emphasizes that these authors perceived the Arabs as partners in the reconstruction of the Ottoman state after the Balkan Wars

“even if they were writing from Egypt.”571 His emphasis on Egypt provide a starting point for this chapter.

564 Ibid., 692-695. 565 Ramazan Hakkı Öztan, “Point of No Return? Prospects of Empire after the Ottoman Defeat in the Balkan Wars (1912-1913),” International Journal of Middle East Studies, 50 (2018): 72. 566 Ibid., 73-75. 567 Ibid., 75-77. 568 Kayalı, Arabs and Young Turks, 15. 569 Ibid., 116. 570 Ginio, “Making Sense of the Defeat in the Balkan Wars: Voices from the Arab Provinces,” 614. 571 Ibid.

185

Egyptian Intellectuals and the Balkan Wars

As they had during the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897, covered in Chapter 2, intellectuals in Egypt paid close attention to the developments that led to the Balkan Wars in 1912. In

September 1912, for instance, the daily press contained numerous articles on the rising tensions between the Balkan states of Bulgaria, Greece, and Serbia, on one hand, and the Ottoman

Empire, on the other. On September 7, al-Ahrām reported on a declaration that Bulgaria, Serbia and Greece had issued in which they indicated their willingness to work against the Ottoman

Empire. The author labeled these three Balkan states as “small kingdoms” (al-mamālik al- saghīra) and “small Balkan kingdoms” (al-mamālik al-balqāniyya al-saghīra).572 This labeling of these three kingdoms was in line with the condescending tone that the Istanbul press used in depicting the Balkan nations prior to the start of the war.573 As the time passed, the news on the situation in the Balkans and the tensions between the Balkan states and the Ottoman Empire started to take up a more prominent space in al-Ahrām, especially from the middle of September

1912 onward. On September 18, for instance, the newspaper published an article on the relationship between Bulgaria and the Ottoman Empire.574 The next day, the lead article of al-

Ahrām was again about the Balkans, this time focusing on the alliance that was forged between

Greece and Bulgaria.575

As tensions in the Balkans reached a boiling point in late September and early October, the press in Egypt paid closer attention. On September 26, al-Ahrām reported that the Ottoman government had informed Bulgarians that Ottoman military exercises that were going on at the

572 “Marsaḥ al-siyāsa fī al-Balqān” (Theater of Politics in the Balkans), al-Ahrām, 25 N 1330/ 7 September 1912, 2. 573 Şirin, “The Traumatic Legacy of the Balkan Wars for the Turkish Intellectuals,” 681-682. 574 “Bulghāriyā wa Turkiyā wa al-sh’ūn al-‘uthmāniyya” (Bulgaria and Turkey and the Ottoman Affairs), al-Ahrām, 7 L 1325/ 18 September 1912, 1. 575 al-Ahrām, 8 L 1325/ 19 September 1912, 1.

186

time were not a threat towards Bulgaria. Unconvinced, the Bulgarians mobilized their army.576

From October 2 onwards, al-Ahrām launched a new section titled “The Loud Noise of the War” that covered diplomatic and military developments as war between the Balkan states and the

Ottoman Empire became more likely. A piece that appeared in this section on October 3, for instance, claimed that conditions were ready for a war between the Ottoman Empire and the

Balkan states, even though the war had not officially been declared yet.577 These articles all referred to the Ottoman Empire as Turkiyā (Turkey), though they also used this term interchangeably with “the Sublime State.” This may indicate a shift in the press’ attitude, specifically that it had come to consider the core lands of the Ottoman Empire as a “Turkish” entity fundamentally separate from Egypt and, by implication, the other Arab provinces.

Nevertheless, once the Balkan Wars started, the press began to identify more closely with the

Ottoman Empire.

The first reports on the war contained clear signs of identification with the Ottomans. On

October 10, al-Ahrām informed its readers of “the victory of the Ottoman Empire.” Based on the telegrams coming from Istanbul, al-Ahrām reported that the Ottoman army repulsed attacks by

Montenegro’s military and advanced into Montenegran territory. More important than its content, however, was the language of the telegrams, which included phrases such as “our soldiers” (junūdna), while describing the Ottoman army.578

Nevertheless, as the war progressed, it became obvious that hopes for an Ottoman victory were premature as the Ottoman army began to suffer defeats and undertake hasty retreats. Al-

Ahrām reported on these developments almost daily in a separate section titled “The Battlefield”

576 “Al-Azamāt al-balqāniyya wa akhtāruha ‘alā Turkiyā” (The Balkan Crises and Their Dangers for Turkey), al- Ahrām, 16 L 1330/ 26 September 1912, 1. 577 “Zamjarat al-ḥarb” (Loud Noise of the War), al-Ahrām, 23 L 1330/ 3 October 1912, 2. 578 “Intiṣār al-jaysh al-‘uthmānī” (Victory of the Ottoman Army), al-Ahrām, 1 Za 1330/ 10 October 1912, 2.

187

(Maydān al-qitāl). On October 30, for example, the editors informed the Egyptian public of the retreat of the Ottoman army towards Kırkkilise in the face of the advancing Bulgarians, while once again utilizing the phrase “our soldiers” to refer to the Ottoman military.579 Similar reports were published at the end of October and throughout the month of November, when the

Bulgarians’ siege of Edirne forced the Ottoman army to retreat towards Çatalca. Significantly, the editors of al-Ahrām responded to the siege of Edirne with an article on Edirne’s importance for the Ottoman Empire, paying particular attention to its historical significance.580 They also emphasized the resistance that the Ottoman armies put up against the Bulgarians at Çatalca.581

In addition to daily newspapers such as al-Ahrām, Egyptian periodicals also paid close attention to the Balkan Wars. The November 1912 issue of Jurjī Zaydān’s al-Hilāl opened with a piece that provided detailed information on the Balkans, including the history of the Ottoman control over it, as well as detailed information on the Balkan states that went to war with the

Ottoman Empire. Zaydān’s tone, however, is more detached and the article seems designed simply to provide scientific information to his readers.582 Al-Muqtaṭaf, generally known to have a pro-British stance, published a similar article in its December 1912 issue, informing its readers of the start of the war and giving details on the belligerents.583 On the other hand, Rashīd Riḍā’s al-

Manār was much more passionate about the war than either al-Hilāl or al-Muqtaṭaf. Riḍā published a letter that depicted the Balkan Wars as perhaps the ultimate stage of the “Eastern

Question.” In response, Riḍā argued that the Balkan nations’ aggression was a part of the

579 “Maydān al-qitāl: Markaz al-a‘dā’ wa markaz juyūshinā” (The Battlefield: Center of the Enemy and Center of our Soldiers), al-Ahrām, 21 Za 1330/ 30 October 1912, 2. 580 “Mā hiya Adirna?” (What is Edirne), al-Ahrām, 22 Za 1330/ 31 October 1912, 1. 581 “Muqāwamat al-‘Uthmāniyyin fī Jātalja” (Ottomans’ Resistance in Çatalca), al-Ahrām, 7 Z 1330/ 16 November 1912, 1. 582 Jurjī Zaydān, “Mamālik al-Balqān wa al-dawla al-‘uthmāniyya” (The Balkan States and the Ottoman Empire), al- Hilāl, 21 Za 1330/ 1 November 1912, 1-13. 583 “Al- Ḥarb al-ḥāḍira wa mulūk al-Balqān” (The Current War and the Balkan Kings), al-Muqtaṭaf, 22 Z 1330/ 1 December 1912, 1.

188

European states’ plan to destroy the Ottoman Empire because the Ottomans were the world’s last independent Islamic. Here, Riḍā self-identifies as an “Ottoman,” even though it is evident that his identification with the Ottoman Empire is mostly on religious grounds.584

After the crushing defeats that the Ottoman military suffered in the first two months of the conflict, the war largely came to a halt towards the end of November. The Ottoman army retreated all the way to Çatalca, which formed the last line of defense on the way to Istanbul, while the Bulgarians laid siege to Edirne. As the weapons quieted down, Ottoman intellectuals made their first attempts to make sense of the defeats suffered by the Ottoman army and advanced various arguments on the future of the Empire. Demonstrating a sense of Ottoman consciousness, intellectuals in Egypt participated actively in these debates. On , for instance, al-Ahrām published a detailed piece based on an article that had appeared in Tanin, an

Istanbul-based newspaper that was considered to be the mouthpiece of the CUP. Al-Ahrām enumerated the reasons for the failure of the Ottoman military in the war, paying special attention to the problems created by the new organization of the army,585 such as a shortfall of capable officers who could efficiently lead the increased number of battalions in the new organizational scheme.586 In addition to the content of the article, the language and the tone that the author utilized while presenting his views showed clear signs of Ottoman mentality.

In his 1913 book on the Tawfīq Tannūs also engaged with the debates on the failure of the Ottoman army on the battlefield. Ṭannūs was known mostly for his work in the newspaper al-Bashīr, which was published in Alexandria between 1897 and 1914.587 Like the

584 Rashīd Riḍā, al-Manār, 30 Z 1330/ 9 December 1912, 61-63. 585 Edward J. Erickson, Defeat in Detail: The Ottoman Army in the Balkans, 1912-1913 (Westport, CT: Praeger, 2003), 24-33. 586 “Min asbāb al-fashal” (Some Reasons for the Failure), al-Ahrām, 20 Z 1330/ 30 November 1912, 1. 587 Tawfīq Ṭannūs, Tārikh al-ḥarb al-balqāniyya, 1912-1913 (The History of the Balkan War, 1912-1913) (Beirut: Jadāwil lil-nashr wa al-tawzī‘, 2013 [Alexandria: Maṭba‘at Jurjī Ghazūza, 1913]), 24-25.

189

report published in al-Ahrām, Ṭannūs emphasized the problems caused by the army’s new organizational scheme while also focusing on the poor leadership of the Ottoman officer corps.

For instance, while recounting the battle of Lüleburgaz, which Ṭannūs labeled “the greatest incident in the Balkan War and the biggest battle in the history of warfare” (a‘ẓam wāqi‘a fī al-

ḥarb al-balqāniyya wa mu‘āraka fī tārīkh al-ḥurūb),588 Ṭannūs praised the valor of the

Ottomans (basālat al-‘Uthmāniyyūn) in resisting the Bulgarian army and argued that the

Ottomans would have won this battle if they had had better leadership on the battlefield.589 He also mentioned the lack of Ottoman intelligence, poor communications on the battlefield and lack of manpower as factors that contributed to the Ottoman military’s dismal performance.590

His account was mostly in line with the conversation among intellectuals in the wider Ottoman world on why the Ottoman military suffered such catastrophic defeats.

The most significant way the press in Egypt differentiated itself, however, was its focus on the role that the Arab provinces should play in the future of the Empire. In its November 29 issue, al-Ahrām published a piece on the aftermath of the war, based on information provided by its special reporter in Istanbul. The article first tried to explain the question of why the Balkan states had wanted to separate from the Ottoman Empire, criticizing the implementation of the late 19th-century reforms and paying particular attention to the rule of the CUP after the reinstatement of the constitution in 1908. The author stressed that as a result of this latest war, the Arabs constituted one of the biggest ethnic groups within the Empire. For this reason, he advocated more inclusion of the Arabs state service, putting forth that the Arabs were ready to serve the Empire with their wealth, their ideas or their manpower. The author recommended convening a committee of members of the Arab provincial parliaments to discuss possible ways

588 Ibid., 153. 589 Ibid., 154. 590 Ibid., 158-160.

190

for Arab grandees to serve the state.591 As will be seen later in the chapter, these types of articles became more numerous after the war ended in 1913. Al-Ahrām engaged with this issue through a sense of belonging to the Ottoman Empire, even though the emphasis of this particular article was definitely on the Arab provinces.

With the end of the convening of peace conferences, the Egyptian press continued to report on the developments. Competing for attention was the coup that took the CUP undertook on 23 January 1913, described above. At the same time, support for the Ottoman Empire continued to be demonstrated in the Egyptian newspapers and journals. Riḍā’s al-Manār, for instance, analyzed the first Balkan War and its diplomatic aftermath as a “crusade,” as noted above.592 On 1 , al-Ahrām published a front-page open letter by one Maḥmūd

Sāmī, inviting Egyptians to support “our state,” meaning the Ottoman Empire. The letter warned that “the fatherland is in danger” (al-waṭan fī khaṭar), “the Sublime State is in danger,” “the only

Eastern kingdom is in danger” (al-mamlaka al-wāhida al-sharqiyya fī khaṭar), “the Islamic sultanate is in danger.” This letter provides a good example of how the Balkan defeats led to a sense of urgency and a surge of Ottoman consciousness in Egypt.593 Support for the Ottoman

Empire had, in fact, been the prevailing attitude in Egypt from the outset of the war.

The Fall and Recovery of Edirne

Once the diplomatic talks in London collapsed in January, the war resumed and the new

CUP government decided to continue to fight. In this atmosphere, the topic to which the

Egyptian press responded most strongly was the fate of Edirne: its fall in April 1913 and its recapture by the Ottomans three months later, during the “Second Balkan War.” The fall of

Edirne came as a shock to Egyptian intellectuals and the Egyptian public alike, even though it

591 “Ba‘da al-nihāyat al-ḥarb” (After the End of the War), al-Ahrām, 19 Z 1330/ 29 November 1912, 1. 592 Riḍā, al-Manār, 30 M 1331/ 8 January 1913. 593 Maḥmūd Sāmī, “‘Uthmānī miṣrī… (Ottoman Egyptian…),” al-Ahrām, 24 S 1331/ 1 February 1913, 1.

191

had seemed inevitable. About a month before, the city of Yanya had fallen to the Greeks after withstanding a long siege. Al-Ahrām praised the Ottoman defense of the city, singling out the commander Esad Pasha, and insisting that the fall of the city would not tarnish his image.594

Two days after reporting the fall of Yanya, al-Ahrām turned its attention to Edirne, paying particular attention to its strategic importance for the Ottoman Empire. The author of the article in question stressed that Edirne was the last Ottoman city in Europe and that abandoning it would expose Istanbul fully to the Bulgarian threat.595

News of Edirne’s fall reached Egypt almost immediately. A report on March 28, informed the Egyptian readers about the news that was coming from Sofia on the capture of

Edirne by the Bulgarians. The author argued that even though Edirne’s fall had been expected for a while now, the fact that it actually took place grieved all Ottomans because it meant the completion of the loss of the Empire’s European provinces.596 In his memoirs, Aḥmad Shafīq also made a similar point, putting forth that the fall of Edirne saddened the entire Islamic world because it put the Ottoman capital in danger.597 Al-Ahrām suggested that now “this state ancient in glory” (hadhihi al-dawla al-‘atīqa fī al-majd) should transform itself into an “Asiatic” state.598

As the literature on the aftermath of the Balkan Wars has demonstrated, this idea of a “return” to

Anatolia, and more broadly, was a topic that Ottoman intellectuals began to discuss after the losses in the Balkans became evident. Even right after the loss of Edirne, some intellectuals in Egypt also put forth similar arguments. A small piece that Jūrjī Zaydān published in al-Hilāl in March 1913 also exemplifies this increased interest in the Asian territories of the Ottoman

594 “Suqūṭ Yānyā” (The Fall of Yanya), al-Ahrām, 10 R 1331/ 18 March 1913, 1. 595 “Al-Asitāna al-‘aliyya” (The Sublime Threshold), al-Ahrām, 12 R 1331/ 20 March 1913, 1. 596 “Al-Iskandariyya: Hall saqaṭat Adirna?” (Did Edirne Fall?), al-Ahrām, 19 R 1331/ 27 March 1913, 2. 597 Aḥmad Shafīq, Mudhakkirati fī nisf qarn, Vol 3, (al-Qahirah: al-Hay’ah al-Misriyah al-Ammah lil-Kitab, 1994), 289. 598 “Al-Iskandariyya: Hall saqaṭat Adirna?” (Alexandria: Did Edirne Fall?), al-Ahrām, 19 R 1331/ 27 March 1913, 2.

192

Empire. In the article, Zaydān enumerated the areas that the Ottoman Empire controlled in Asia, including the Arab provinces, while also providing population counts for each area.599

One of the strongest reactions to the fall of Edirne came from Rashīd Riḍā. In the April issue of al-Manār, Riḍā published an indignant article with the title “Peace after Bad

Consequences: On the Fall of Yanya and Edirne.” Surprisingly, he laid the blame for the disaster squarely on the shoulders of the CUP leadership, labeling them “hypocrites” (munāfiqūn) and arguing that even though they had grasped the reins of power by promising to save Edirne and restore glory to the Ottoman army, they had failed to deliver on their promises.600 This piece was immediately followed by an article on the future of the Ottoman Empire, in which Riḍā contributed to the debate by presenting his own views on how the Empire should proceed now that it had lost its territories in the Balkans.601 Riḍā’s views on the topic will be analyzed in more detail later in the chapter.

When Edirne fell to the Bulgarians, as noted above, the Ottomans had no other option but to sue for peace. Luckily for the Ottomans, however, the former Balkan allies started to fight over the spoils of war and hence gave the Ottomans an opportunity to regain some of their lost territories, including Edirne, which they retook in late July 1913. On July 19, al-Ahrām informed the Egyptian public that the Ottoman army was advancing on Edirne unopposed.602 Three days later, under the headline “The Recovery of Edirne,” one Doctor Sa‘ādi reported that the political sources indicated the Ottoman Empire’s willingness to resume the war against the Balkan states.

Recapturing part of “our territories” (amlaknā), the author emphasized, would restore “our

599 Zaydān, “Al-Wilāyāt al-‘uthmāniyya fī Asyā” (The Ottoman Provinces in Asia), al-Hilāl, 23 Ra 1331/ 1 April 1913, 51. 600 Riḍā, “Al-Ṣulḥ ba‘da sū’i al-‘āqiba bi suqūṭ Yānya wa Adirna” (Peace after Bad Consequences: Fall of Yanya and Edirne), al-Manār, 29 R 1331/ 7 April 1913, 78-79. 601 Riḍā, “Mustaqbal al-dawla al-‘uthmāniyya” (The Future of the Ottoman State), al-Manār, 29 R 1331/ 7 April 1913, 79-80. 602 “Zaḥf al-jaysh al-‘uthmānī” (Advance of the Ottoman Army), al-Ahrām, 15 Ş 1331/ 19 July 1913, 5.

193

military honor and our glory in war” (sharafnā al-‘askarī wa majadnā al-ḥarb). These views and the language in which they were presented indicated a strong sense of affiliation with the

Ottoman Empire. The fact that this was al-Ahrām’s lead article also underlines the importance that the issue held for the Egyptian public.603

Another article that appeared in al-Ahrām on the same day expressed similar sentiments, referring to the Ottoman Empire as “our state” or “our exalted state,” while labeling the Ottoman army “jaysh al-shāhāni (the imperial army).” The author reports the recapture of Edirne in optimistic tones while praising the appointment of Said Halim Pasha as grand vizier. Said Halim

Pasha, as the author points out, was a member of Egypt’s ruling family (aḥad afrād al-‘ā’ila al- ulwiyya ḥākimat Miṣr) and thus linked the Ottoman Empire to Egypt.604 A document in the

Ottoman archives also indicates that a telegram was sent from Egypt to Istanbul, congratulating the Sultan for the recovery of Edirne.605 Another telegram reached Istanbul about two months later, this time from the people of Qarshiyya in the Gharbiyya subprovince, northwest of Cairo, once again declaring their happiness at the recovery of Edirne from the Bulgarians. 606 All these sources indicate that the Egyptian public felt a stake in the Ottomans’ military fortunes and rejoiced in their victories.

Debates on the Future of the Ottoman Empire

As the scale of the Ottoman defeats in the Balkans became evident, Egyptian intellectuals began to engage in debates on the future of the Ottoman Empire and the role of Egypt and other

Arab provinces in it. At the same time, a growing current of opinion favored complete independence for Egypt. While Egyptian intellectuals continued to identify culturally with the

603 “Istirdād Adirna” (Recovery of Edirne), al-Ahrām, 18 Ş 1331/ 22 July 1913, 1. 604 “Subḥān al-mughayyir,” al-Ahrām, 18 Ş 1331/ 22 July 1913, 4. 605 BOA, A.MTZ, 26/59, 11 Ş 1331/16 July 1913. 606 BOA, İ.MBH, 13/48, 28 L 1331/ 30 .

194

Ottoman Empire, the Balkan Wars marked a turning point after which they began to advocate a more distinctly Egyptian identity.

One of the debates in which Egyptian intellectuals took part concerned the future of

Istanbul as the capital of the Ottoman Empire. The fall of Edirne had put the imperial capital in jeopardy, leading some Ottoman intellectuals to ask whether the capital should be moved, possibly to Anatolia. The Egyptian press contributed to this discussion. On April 19, about three weeks after the fall of Edirne, al-Ahrām published an article stressing Istanbul’s geographical, administrative and economic importance for the Empire. It concluded that Istanbul should continue to be the capital of the Ottoman Empire and that the Ottoman government should no longer question its status.607

Notwithstanding this show of confidence in the imperial capital, worries about the

Empire’s future were acute in Egypt in 1913, as a letter to al-Ahrām from a teacher named

Ḥusayn Aḥmad al-Qaṣṣār, published about a month after the fall of Edirne, makes clear. Arguing that the “homeland” (waṭan) was in danger, al-Qaṣṣār compared the war that the Ottoman

Empire was waging in the Balkans to the “Battle of Badr” in 624 C.E., when the Prophet

Muhammad saved Medina from the the Meccan polytheists. Al-Qaṣṣār was careful to emphasize, however, that the issue was not only the defense of the capital of the Islamic caliphate but also the defense of the whole Ottoman Empire.608

Rashīd Riḍā’s analysis of the Empire’s future, mentioned above, can be viewed in the context of this anxiety over Istanbul’s security. Riḍā reiterated his opposition to the CUP, whose rule he believed would hasten the Empire’s collapse and argued that without its European

607 “Markaz al-asitāna ba‘da ḏahāb al-wilāyāt al-rRūmaliyya” (The Site of the Threshold After the Loss of Rumelia), al-Ahrām, 12 Ca 1331/ 19 April 1913, 1. 608 Ḥusayn Aḥmad al-Qaṣṣār, “Al-Waṭan fī khaṭar” (The Homeland is in Danger), al-Ahrām, 27 Ca 1331/ 5 May 1913, 2.

195

provinces, the Ottoman Empire could not continue as a parliamentary regime. After the wars,

Riḍā expected the Ottoman government to answer the calls coming from the remaining provinces for more administrative freedom in their internal affairs. Where the international arena was concerned, Riḍā was not as pessimistic, arguing that for the moment the European powers, headed by Britain, did not want to partition the remaining Ottoman territory.609

Not all Egyptian intellectuals shared Riḍā’s opinion in this matter. In his memoirs,

Aḥmad Shafīq recounted a conversation that he had had at the height of the First Balkan War with then-grand vizier Ferid Pasha, in which he voiced his concern that the Balkan states’ victories would encourage the European powers to partition the Empire. Connected to this concern, Shafīq added, was the possibility of Egypt’s becoming independent, a topic that will also be discussed later in this section.610

Al-Muqtaṭaf also joined the conversation on the future of the Ottoman Empire, albeit in a rather indirect manner. The editors summarized two articles on the future of the Ottoman

Empire, the first by an English author, the second a summary of the views of Marshall Von der

Goltz, a military advisor to the Ottoman government. Both men emphasized the increased importance that Anatolia and the Arab lands held for the Ottoman Empire after the Balkan Wars.

Von der Goltz even suggested that the imperial capital should be moved to or Damascus, both of which, he felt, were ideally positioned to administer the two parts of the Empire, “the

Turkish part and the Arab part” (al-juz’ al-turkī wa al-‘arabī)).611 Even though al-Muqtaṭaf editors did not offer a separate commentary on these issues, the fact that they provided

609 Riḍā, “Mustaqbal al-dawla al-‘uthmāniyya” (The Future of the Ottoman State), al-Manār, 29 R 1331/ 7 April 1913, 79-80. 610 Shafīq, Mudhakkirati fi niṣf qarn, Vol.3, 290-291. 611 “Mustakbal al-balād al-‘uthmāniyya” (The Future of Ottoman Territories), al-Muqtaṭaf, June 1913, 38-47.

196

summaries of these two pieces for the Egyptian public demonstrates their engagement with the wider Ottoman cultural world.

Clearly, the focus of intellectuals’ concern was shifting to the enhanced role of the Arab provinces as a result of the Balkan Wars. In this context, the issue of decentralization, coupled with calls for administrative reform in the Arab provinces, became much more visible in the

Egyptian press in April and May 1913. On April 27, al-Ahrām published an article on the history of Ottoman rule over the Arab lands, noting that there had been complaints in the provinces about the “maladministration of the Ottoman government” (sū’ iḍārat al-ḥukūma al-

‘uthmāniyya), as well as calls to revive “justice” in the way the government operated. The article emphasized the important role that the Arabs, especially Syrians, had played in the administration of the Empire.612

Al-Manār was also taking part in this debate. Riḍā published a detailed comparison of the advantages of centralization and decentralization with regards to the Ottoman Empire. Written as a dialogue between a merchant and a “man of letters,” the piece concluded that that a decentralized administrative system would be better for the Empire, not least because of the numerous ethnicities, languages, and religious denominations that the empire encompassed.

Though he advocated decentralization, Riḍā saw it as a way to strengthen the Empire; he was still operating within the Ottoman context.613

Closely related to this advocacy of decentralization were the calls for reform that emerged from the Arab provinces. Egyptian intellectuals in Egypt contributed to debates about reform, as another indication of their Ottoman consciousness. On May 10, al-Ahrām published

612 “Tārīkh al-iḍārat al-‘uthmāniyya fī al-balād al-‘arabiyya” (History of the Ottoman Rule in the Arab Lands), al- Ahrām, 19 Ca 1331/ 27 April 1913, 1. 613 Riḍā, “Muḥāwara bayn ‘ālim siyāsī wa tājir ḏakī” (Dialogue Between Political Expert and an Intelligent Merchant), al-Manār, 29 Ca 1331/ 7 May 1913, 23-32.

197

an article on the need for reforms in the Ottoman Empire, especially in the Arab provinces. The author reacted to news that the Ottoman government was collaborating with the British on building what would later be known as the Bagdad Railway. He was against this plan, arguing that Britain had proved itself to be an unreliable partner in the past and worked to the detriment of the Empire. Instead, the paper emphasized that the way for the Ottoman Empire to move forward was not to collaborate with the British but to implement reforms especially in Anatolia and Syria.614 Another article published four days later also underlined the necessity of actively implementing reforms rather than just issuing documents, including the constitution.615

At the beginning of June 1913, al-Ahrām reprinted an interview done with Rafīq al-

‘Azm, a member of the famous Damascene notable family who served as the president of the

“Party of Decentralization” in Egypt. The interview had originally appeared in the Jeune Turc newspaper in Istanbul. Al-‘Azm argued that the new imperial decree making Arabic an in the Arab provinces would not satisfy the Decentralization party intellectuals and that decentralized administration was the only solution to the Ottoman Empire’s ills. Importantly, however, Rafīq al-‘Azm stressed that the party’s goal in advocating this policy was mainly strengthening of the Empire (taqwiyyat al-dawla al-‘uthmāniyya).616 The fact that al-Ahrām chose to report on this interview indicates the stake that Egyptian intellectuals perceived in these discussions.

Rashīd Riḍā, a long-time collaborator of Rafīq al-‘Azm, passionately advocated administrative reform in the Arab provinces. In the same issue of al-Manār in which he lobbied for decentralization Riḍā noted the Party of Decentralization’s participation in the upcoming

614 “Kull hādha lā yanfa‘a illā al-iṣlāḥ” (Nothing Will Happen Except Reform), al-Ahrām, 4 C 1331/ 10 May 1913, 1. 615 “Ba‘da al-ḥarb” (After the War), al-Ahrām, 8 C 1331/ 14 May 1913, 1. 616 “Iṣlāḥ al-wilayāt al-‘arabiyya” (Reforming of the Arab Provinces), al-Ahrām, 29 C 1331/ 4 June 1913, 1.

198

Arab Congress in Paris. Riḍā enumerated three issues that the Congress would address:

“resistance of foreign occupation of the homeland” (waṭan), “rights of the Arabs in the Ottoman

Empire” and “obligatory alteration of the Ottoman administration towards decentralization.617

Riḍā’s choice of the word waṭan for “homeland” is intriguing since it is not clear whether he means the Ottoman Empire as a whole or only the Arab provinces. In general, his article demonstrates how the defeats in the Balkan Wars, coming right after the loss of Libya to the

Italians, led Arabic-speaking intellectuals to question the Ottoman Empire’s ability to defend its territory. Although they were still operating within the Ottoman cultural network, their worries about the Ottoman Empire were increasing. They therefore embraced decentralized rule as the most efficient way to address this problem.

Another venue in which the Arabic-speaking intellectuals in Egypt expressed their opinions on the future of the Empire and the role that the Arabic provinces would play in the reformed administration was a book written by Yusūf al-Bustānī. Like Rafīq al-‘Azm, Yūsuf al-

Bustānī was an intellectual from Greater Syria who resided in Egypt for a number of years in the late Ottoman period. A journalist and lesser-known member of the famous Lebanese Maronite

Bustānī family, he followed the Balkan wars from Cairo and, in 1913, published a book on the

First Balkan War.618 Al-Bustānī devoted the book’s conclusion to compiling the opinions of major intellectuals in Egypt on the future of the Ottoman Empire and how it could recover from the shock of the Balkan War. He titled this section “The Best Means for Awakening the

Sultanate” (Afḍal al-wasā’il li inhāḍ al-sulṭana).619

617 Riḍā, “al-mu’atamar al-‘arabī bi bārīs wa al-ḥizb al-lāmarkaziyya bi miṣr (The Arab Congress in Paris and the Party of Decentralization in Egypt),” al-Manār, 29 Ca 1331/ 7 May 1913. 618 J. Abdel Nour, “al-Bustānī,” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd Ed. 619 Yūsuf al-Bustānī, Tārīkh ḥarb al-Balqān al-ūla bayn al-dawla al-‘aliyya wa al-Ittihād al-Balqānī (A History of the First Balkan War between the Ottoman Empire and the Balkan League) (Cairo: Maṭba’at al-Hilāl, 1913), 314.

199

A number of intellectuals and scholars feature in al-Bustānī’s compilation, some of whom have already been mentioned in this chapter, such as Jurjī Zaydān and Rashīd Riḍā. Other figures included Fathī Zaghlūl Pasha, a scholar of law and sociology; Abū Shadī Bey, the editor of al-Mu’ayyad at the time; Da’ūd Barakāt, the editor of al-Ahrām, and Ismā‘īl Ṣabrī Pasha, a poet. Almost all of these figures agreed that the Ottoman Empire needed to implement numerous reforms if it hoped to surive intact. Most important for the purposes of this chapter was their emphasis on the establishment of equality under the rule of law for the different ethnic groups that constituted the Ottoman Empire. This was understood to mean equal treatment for Turks and

Arabs. In fact, Riḍā made this point more explicit by naming the Turks and the Arabs as the two biggest groups between whom equality should be established. Moreover, most of the intellectuals indicated that they were in favor of an administrative change that would grant more powers to the provinces, perceiving this system as the best way for the Ottoman Empire to move forward.620

It must also be emphasized that these intellectuals demonstrated varied degrees of affiliation with the Ottoman Empire in their responses.621 While some, such as Riḍā or Fāris

Nimr, evinced a closer affinity with the Empire, others distanced themselves from the imperial center. Ismā‘īl Ṣabrī Pasha, for example, argued that “Turks” should not be employed in the administration of regions where they did not constitute a majority.622 Nevertheless, the fact that they all contributed to the debates on how the Ottoman Empire should proceed after the Balkan

Wars also demonstrated the role they continued to play within the Empire’s wider intellectual network. At the same time, these Arabic-speaking intellectuals in Egypt must have known that similar calls for decentralized rule in the Balkans had led to the separation of those territories

620 Ibid., 314-327. 621 Ibid. 622 Ibid., 316-317.

200

from the Empire in the course of the 19th century. They may therefore have seen the calls for decentralization in the Arab provinces as a first step toward a complete with from the Empire, even though at this point they still advanced this argument as a way to strengthen the Ottoman state.

Not surprisingly, given the circumstances, the issue of self-rule in Egypt also came up among Egyptian intellectuals, as well as within the ruling elite. On May 24, for instance, al-

Ahrām published a lead article, in which the author demanded parliamentary self-rule for Egypt.

This article was not simply a polemic against the Ottomans since, at this time, the central government had almost no political control over Egyptian affairs at the time. Rather, the article addressed mainly the British, who argued that the Egyptians were not ready to rule themselves, as well as the Egyptian ruling elite, who, the author asserted, governed without consulting the

Egyptian people.623 Nevertheless, the timing of this article is important in the sense that it came at a time when decentralized rule in the Ottoman provinces were also being discussed in the

Egyptian press. Calls for independence, like calls for decentralization, indicate the emergence of a distinctive Egyptian consciousness as a partial result of Ottoman defeats in the First Balkan

War.

Aḥmad Shafīq’s memoirs provide another window on the Egyptian ruling elite’s attitude toward independence in the wake of the First Balkan War. As mentioned above, Abbas Hilmi II and Aḥmad Shafīq were both in Istanbul when news of the defeats started to reach Istanbul and there, they had a meeting with then-grand vizier Ferid Pasha. Shafīq voiced his concerns that the defeats would lead to the partition of the Empire by the European powers, then proposed a plan to work with Britain to obtain independence for Egypt. Although Ferid Pasha rejected this idea,

623 “Istibdād ḥukkām al-miṣriyyīn bi al-hay’āt al-niyābiyya al-miṣriyya wa limadhā” (Despotism of the Egyptian Rulers in the Egyptian Parliament, and Why), al-Ahrām, 18 C 1331/ 24 May 1913, 1.

201

Abbas Hilmi, on his return to Cairo, approached Governor General Lord Kitchener about it.624

Obviously, nothing came of this plan and Egypt’s independence was postponed until 1952. This discussion matters, however, because it demonstrates how the results of the First Balkan War provided another catalyst for the Egyptian ruling elite to seek self-rule in Egypt.

Philanthropy as a Sign of Ottoman Consciousness in Egypt

If the intellectual and ruling elite in Egypt responded to Ottoman defeats the Balkan Wars by promoting decentralization and even self-rule, Egyptian public at large still seemed to identify with the Ottoman Empire to a large extent. This is certainly the impression created by the widespread charitable donations for the Ottoman military during the Balkan Wars, as well as for the wars’ victims. As in the caes of the 1897 Ottoman-Greek War, these donation campaigns provided an opportunity for the Egyptian public to perform their Ottomanness.

The collection of aid for the Ottoman military had begun before the Balkan Wars started, in connection with the Italian invasion of Tripolitania. Once the war in the Balkans started and the Ottomans had to come to an agreement with Italy, the Egyptian public’s support did not wane but rather increased. The people in Egypt kept on collecting money for the Ottoman military as well as for the Ottoman refugees, who were drastically affected by the war in the Balkans, through various aid donation campaigns that were led by prominent figures of the Egyptian ruling elite.

The first news of the collection of aid funds to support the Ottoman military in the

Balkans appeared in the second week of October, right after the start of the war. In a small piece published on 13 October 1912, al-Ahrām quoted a speech that Ömer Tosun Pasha, the president of the aid collection committee, had made to the committee members, emphasizing the importance of helping the Empire in “these critical times” (hadhihī al-awqāt al-ḥarija). More

624 Shafīq, Mudhakkirati fi niṣf qarn, Vol. 3, 289-292.

202

significantly, Ömer Tosun Pasha underlined the unity of the Egyptians in their work to help

“their state.” (dawlatuhum).625

The figure of Ömer Tosun Pasha is worth analyzing. He was the grandson of Said Pasha, governor of Egypt between 1854 and 1863, and was married to Princess Behice Hasan, a granddaughter of Khedive Ismail. According to Emine Fuat Tugay, Ömer Tosun Pasha was an intellectual and an active philianthropist. Before the Balkan Wars, he had led the campaign to help the Ottoman Empire in its war against Italy in Libya, mentioned above.626 His leadership of the aid campaign indicates a continuing presence of a cultural and emotional attachment to the

Empire among the highest echelons of Egyptian ruling elite. In addition to Ömer Tosun Pasha,

Prince Mehmed Ali Pasha, son of Khedive Abbas Hilmi and the grandson of Khedive Ismail,627 also played an important role in the aid collection committee. The Ottoman government was aware of active participation of prominent members of the khedivial family in the aid collection efforts, as a document from the Ottoman state archives demonstrates.628

Other members of the Egyptian ruling family participated in the aid campaign. On

October 30, al-Ahrām published the names of royal family members who had donated to the

Ottoman Red Crescent. The list featured several princes and numerous female members of the family, notably khedive’s mother, who had donated 2000 guineas; Princess Zeyneb Hilmi, wife of Prince Mahmud Hilmi Pasha; and Princess Rukiye Hanım Efendi.629 The fact that prominent members of the khedivial family immediately answered the call to help the Ottoman war effort underlined the Egyptian ruling elite’s continuing attachment to the Ottoman Empire. Moreover,

625 “‘Iānat al-dawla al-‘aliyya” (Aid for the Sublime State), al-Ahrām, 3 Za 1330/ 13 October 1912, 2. 626 Tugay, Bir Aile Üç Asır, 167-169. 627 Ibid., 294-295. 628 BOA, BEO, 4108/308083, 24 Za 1330/ 4 November 1912. 629 “Miṣr wa al-ḥarb: ‘Ianāt al-Hilāl al-Aḥmar al-‘uthmāniyya- Al-Qā’ima al-ūlā” (Egypt and the War: Aid for the Ottoman Red Crescent, the First List), al-Ahrām, 21 Za 1330/ 30 October 1912, 2.

203

their response provided an example for the rest of the Egyptian society, who followed their lead in donating, as will be discussed later on.

Some members of the khedivial family went beyond simply donating money and undertook other acts of philanthropy as well. Princess Emine İlhami, the Khedive’s mother, for instance, built a in Istanbul for wounded Ottoman soldiers, as al-Ahrām informed its readers on a front-page article on November 16. According to the article, the hospital was going to be built on the grounds of Princess Emine İlhami’s palace in Bebek, a neighborhood on the

Bosphorus in Istanbul. Emine İlhami also provided for doctors, pharmacists, and necessary medical equipment. The article ended with a list of the foodstuffs and other materials that were sent to Istanbul from Egypt to help the Empire in its war effort.630 A November 27 article reported that Emine İlhami had ordered the collection of winter clothing to be sent to Istanbul for refugees from the war. Once again, the article followed with a list of the types of clothes that were being sent to the Ottoman capital.631

The Ottoman government and Sultan Mehmed V (r.1909-1918) appreciated these efforts that Princess İlhami was undertaking to help the Empire in these difficult times. In a document from the Ottoman archives, it was stated that extending of Sultan’s appreciation to the members of the ruling elite, including the Khedive and Prince Mehmed Ali, who were helping the Empire at the time would encourage them and make them happy (teşvikiyet ve memnuniyet oluşturacağı).632 Another document shows that the Sultan complied with this suggestion. The

Sultan specifically thanked “valide-i Hidiv” (the Khedive’s mother) as well as Prince Mehmed

Ali and Ömer Tosun Pasha, for their efforts to collect aid for the Ottoman military and the

630 “Mabarra jadīda” (A New Act of Charity), (al-Ahrām, 7 Z 1330/ 16 November 1912, 1-2. 631 “Mabarra jadīda” (A New Act of Charity), al-Ahrām, 18 Z 1330/ 27 November 1912, 3. 632 BOA, MB.İ, 164/27, 25 Za 1330/ 5 November 1912.

204

Ottoman Red Crescent.633 These greetings to the ruling elite were widely publicized in the press for the Egyptian public. Al-Ahrām published articles on this subject on both November 8634 and

November 9,635 informing the Egyptian public that the Sultan had extended his gratitude to the

Khedive, his mother and the ruling elite (a’yān) of Egypt for the help that they had been providing for the Empire. Moreover, the Ottoman government utilized one of its most preferred methods of displaying imperial appreciation, the awarding of decorations, to honor the members of the khedivial family. According to the archival documents, the Sultan attempted to award

Ömer Tosun Pasha an order for his efforts to help the Ottoman war effort. Interestingly, however, Ömer Tosun Pasha did not accept this order, insisting that he was working for the sake of religion (din gayretiyle çalıstığından).636

These acts of philanthropy had various meanings. I argue that they represented the

Ottoman mentality that persisted among the ruling elite of Egypt. Additionally, these activities served the self-interests of the khedivial family in projecting a certain image. Nadir Özbek, in his analysis of philanthropy during the reign of Abdülhamid II argues that one of the main reasons the ruling groups performed philanthropic acts was to legitimize their own rule in a public sphere that was contested by various social and political interests.637 Moreover, Özbek suggests that philanthropy was utilized to project an image of a “caring monarch,” as well as instilling a sense of patriotism within the population.638 Özbek is careful, however, to acknowledge that philanthropy did not always work in a “top-down” manner as the participants in these campaigns

633 BOA, İ.MBH, 10/38, 25 Za 1330/ 5 November 1912. 634 “Taḥiyyat al-sulṭān al-‘azm lil-umma al-miṣriyya” (Greeting of the Great Sultan to the Egyptian People), al- Ahrām, 30 Za 1330/ 8 November 1912, 2. 635 “Taḥiyyat al-sulṭān al-khalīfa lil-umma al-miṣriyya al-karīma” (Greeting of the Sultan the Caliph to the Noble Egyptian People), al-Ahrām, 1 Z 1330/ 9 November 1912, 1. 636 BOA, A.MTZ (05), 26/15, 29 M 1331/ 8 January 1913. 637 Nadir Özbek, “Philanthropic Activity, Ottoman Patriotism, and the Hamidian Regime, 1876-1909,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 37 (2005): 63-66. 638 Ibid., 67-69, 73.

205

had their own local, social, and political interests that they tried to pursue.639 Along the same lines, Eyal Ginio in a study of the relief campaign that Khedive Abbas Hilmi Pasha organized for refugees from Kavala during the Balkan Wars, argues that the ruling elite in Egypt utilized philanthropy for “strengthening social mobilization, khedivial image branding, and national sovereignty.”640 Philanthropy allowed the ruling elite to affirm their membership in the “national community,” while also strengthening their social legitimacy, presenting the image of a

“benevolent ruler,” and increasing their authority, especially against the British.641 As Ginio puts it, “Notwithstanding humanitarian concerns, philanthropy during the Balkan Wars served the donors to achieve political gains and to claim moral superiority.”642 In the examples of charity examined here, philanthropy enabled the members of the khedivial family to display their attachment to the “national cause” and demonstrate their solidarity with the Ottoman Empire.

Through these philanthropic efforts, in addition, the Egyptian ruling elite tried to discursively assert themselves against the British and carve out a space of sovereignty against them.

It must also be emphasized that some members of the khedivial family actually volunteered to fight in the ranks of the Ottoman army during the Balkan Wars, a point that can be taken as another example of the Egyptian ruling elite’s close association with the Empire at this time. One such volunteer was Prince Hilmi who, according to a small piece in al-Ahrām, left

Egypt fight at the front. Prince Hilmi was the son of İbrahim Hilmi Pasha, the uncle of Khedive

Abbas Hilmi.643 At least one other member of the khedivial family, Prince Aziz Pasha, fought in the First Balkan War as a part of the Ottoman military. Prince Aziz was one of the grandsons of

639 Ibid., 70. 640 Eyal Ginio, “War, Dynasty, and Philanthropy: Kavala and the Khedivial Relief Campaign During the Balkan Wars (1912-1913),” in Wealth in the Ottoman and Post-Ottoman Balkans: A Socio-Economic History, ed. Evguenia Davidova (London: I.B Tauris, 2016), 171-172. 641 Ibid., 184-185. 642 Ibid., 181. 643 “Taṭū‘ amīr miṣrī” (An Egyptian Prince Volunteers), al-Ahrām, 1 Z 1330/ 9 November 1912, 3.

206

Khedive Ismail. His father, Prince Hasan Pasha, had himself joined the Ottoman military in his youth and risen to the rank of (müşir), commanding the Egyptian troops who participated in the Ottoman-Russian War of 1877-1878.644 On his return to Egypt in February

1913, Prince Aziz noted that the reason for the defeat of the Ottoman army at Kırkkilise was the

“flight” of the Christian soldiers who fought in the Ottoman army, specifically those of Serbian,

Bulgarian or Greek origin. On the other hand, Prince Aziz praised the courage of one Ottoman

Greek soldier, who had fought under his command, especially in the Lüleburgaz campaign.645

In addition to these individuals from the khedivial family, members of the Egyptian military elite, such as Müşir Fu’ād Pasha, also fought in the Ottoman army during the First

Balkan War. A small piece that appeared in al-Ahrām on 14 December informed the Egyptians of the conduct of Muşir Fu’ād Pasha and his sons in the Balkan War, describing the campaigns in which Fu’ād Pasha and his sons took part.646 Another small article noted the work of Fu’ād

Pasha, called “Müşir Pasha the Egyptian” (Mushīr Bāshā al-Miṣrī), in fortifying the lines in the

Çatalca region.647 All these examples show that members of the Egyptian ruling elite, including members of the khedivial family, demonstrated their Ottoman consciousness by volunteering to go to war in the ranks of the Ottoman military. When seen in the context of the rising sense of

Egyptian identity, evident from the identification of Fu’ād Pasha as “the Egyptian,” for instance, these acts of solidarity with the Empire take on new importance and demonstrate that loyalties and identities in Egypt were much more in flux at this time than one may initially assume.

As mentioned above, wider segments of the Egyptian population followed the khedivial family’s example and participated in aid collection campaigns, as was the case with the

644 Tugay, Bir Aile Üç Asır, 280-287. 645 “Al-Iskandariyya” (Alexandria), al-Ahrām, 29 S 1331/ 6 February 1913, 2. 646 “Al-Mushīr Fu’ād Bāshā wa awlādihu fī al-ḥarb” (Marshall Fuad Pasha and His Sons in the War), al-Ahrām, 5 M 1331/ 14 December 1912, 2. 647 “Ḥāl al-jaysh al-‘uthmānī” (State of the Ottoman Army), al-Ahrām, 30 M 1331/ 8 January 1913, 2.

207

Ottoman-Greek War of 1897, analyzed in Chapter 2. I argue that, similar to the ruling and intellectual elite, other parts of the Egyptians society demonstrated a sense of affiliation with the

Ottoman Empire at a time when more and more people in Egypt were identifying themselves as

“Egyptians.”

As was seen, an aid committee was set up with Ömer Tosun Pasha as its president, calling for Egyptians to help the Ottoman Empire in its difficult times. According to the daily press, the Egyptians responded this call with enthusiasm. On October 14, al-Ahrām reported that

Egyptians around the country were “competing” with each other in the collection of aid for the

Ottoman Empire. These acts demonstrated the Egyptians’ intense bond (ta‘alluquhum al-shadīd) with and definite affection (‘āṭifuhum al-akīd) for the Empire. The article pointed out that the amount collected had already reached 35 Egyptian guineas. Meanwhile, a lawyer called on his fellow Egyptians to donate the hides of the animals that they had sacrificed on the recent the Eid al-Adha to the Ottoman war effort.648

Reports indicated that feelings were running high and there was a strong demonstration of support for the Ottoman Empire among the Egyptian population from the start of the war onward. In an article on the reactions of Egyptians in Alexandria, the author described the

“agitation of the Ottoman sympathies” (ghalayān al-‘awāṭif al-‘uthmāniyya), triggered by the aggression of the Balkan states.649 Another small piece in the same issue indicated that grandees from different parts of Egypt had been donating to the funds for the Ottoman Empire.650

The fact that donation collection was going on all over Egypt and was not simply limited to Cairo or Alexandria shows how widespread Egyptian support for the Ottoman cause was at

648 “Al-Miṣriyyūn wa al-ḥarb” (Egyptians and the War), al-Ahrām, 5 Za 1330/ 14 October 1912, 2. 649 “Al-Iskandariyya: Ghalayān al-‘awāṭif al-‘uthmāniyya” (Alexandria: Agitation of the Ottoman Emotions), al- Ahrām, 7 Za 1330/ 16 October 1912, 1. 650 “Al-Miṣriyyūn wa al-ḥarb” (Egyptians and the War), al-Ahrām, 7 Za 1330/ 16 October 1912, 2.

208

this point. Committees to collect donations sprang up in different parts of Egypt, established by local notables who were following the example of the khedivial family and the Egyptian ruling elite. Moreover, these provincial dignitaries made sure that larger segments of the Egyptian population knew about their support for the Empire by writing to newspapers such as al-Ahrām, in order to announce the establishment of these aid committees. On November 4, for instance, al-

Ahrām reported receiving such letters, naming the dignitaries who had set up the funds in Minyā al-Qamaḥ in Sharqiyya subprovince, northeast of Cairo, Suez, and Manṣūra.651 A piece the next day announced the establishment of aid collection committees in places such as Qinā, close to the ancient city of , and Tal Huwayn, near Zaqāzīq in Sharqiyya.652 Finally, a piece that appeared on November 16 described how Ömer Tosun Pasha and other members of the main aid collection committee in Cairo, as well as members of the Egyptian Red Crescent, had gone to

Ṭanṭa to attend a meeting on the aid collection efforts in the region.653 The publication of the donors’ names was as a way for these Egyptians to assert their Ottoman consciousness in a public sphere in which the newspapers played a key role. Meanwhile the sultan encouraged these efforts and publicly expressed his gratitude in order to emphasize the ties that bound Egypt to the rest of the Empire.654

As the Ottoman defeats mounted, leading to a flood of refugees from the Balkans, aid efforts in Egypt shifted towards helping the refugees. A article in al-Ahrām, for instance, depicted the suffering of refugees fleeing their lands. By this time 120,000 had arrived in Istanbul; some of these were transferred to Anatolia. In describing the Egypitan reaction, the

651 “Miṣr wa al-ḥarb” (Egypt and the War), al-Ahrām, 26 Za 1330/ 4 November 1912, 2. 652 “Miṣr wa al-ḥarb” (Egypt and the War), al-Ahrām, 27 Za 1330/ 5 November 1912, 2. 653 “Miṣr wa al-ḥarb” (Egypt and the War), al-Ahrām, 7 Z 1330/ 16 November 1912, 2. 654 “Taḥiyyat al-sulṭān al-‘azīm li al-umma al-miṣriyya” (Greetings of the Great Sultan to the Egyptian People), al- Ahrām, 30 Za 1330/ 8 November 1912, 2.

209

author argued that there was not a single Egyptian who refrained from charity and goodness.655

On 25 January 1913, al-Ahrām reported on a committee, set up in the Azbakiyya gardens in

Cairo, supervised by the Khedive’s mother, that collected 230 guineas for refugees in Istanbul;

The article indicated Lord Kitchener delivered part of the money to the imperial capital.656

Women played a key role in these aid campaigns. The names of female members of the khedivial family could routinely be found in the lists of donors that the Egyptian newspapers published during the war, as noted above. In return for these philanthropic behaviors, some of them received orders and medals from the Ottoman government. Princess Nevciran Hanım, for instance, was awarded a medal for her help in strengthening the Ottoman naval forces,657 while

Princess Fatima Hanım recieved a jeweled Mecidi order, issued specially for women (nisvana mahsus murassa Mecidi nişan-ı zişanı).658

These philanthropic acts by the women of the Khedivial family set an example for other

Egyptian women, who followed their lead and participated in the aid collection by various means. On 30 November 1912, al-Ahrām reported that women in the Fauyūm region had organized a donation drive through a girls’ school. A speech given during the meeting emphasized the relationship between the Egyptian women and their “Ottoman sisters.” The fact that women took the initiative to organize an aid collection drive for the Ottoman Empire in a rather remote part of Egypt again shows how widespread the emotional attachment to the

Ottoman Empire was in Egypt at the time.

655 “Ḍīq al-muhājirīn wa ‘adaduhum” (Hardship of the Refugees and their Numbers), al-Ahrām, 9 Z 1330/ 19 November 1912, 2. 656 “Al-Lajna al-miṣriyya li musā‘ada ‘āilāt al-ḥarb bi al-asitāna” (Egyptian Committee for Helping War Families in the Capital), al-Ahrām, 17 S 1331/ 25 January 1913, 2. 657 BOA, İ.TAL, 485/1, 5 L 1331/ 7 September 1913. 658 BOA, İ.TAL, 487/10, 6 Z 1331/ 6 November 1913.

210

Fundraising efforts to rebuild the Ottoman navy also deserve special mention. One lesson that the Ottoman government learned from the Balkan Wars was the fact that Ottoman navy needed to be modernized since it was understood that the Greek navy’s dominance during the war was one of the major factors that led to the Ottoman defeats in the Balkans.659 Nevertheless, the Ottoman treasury was not in a condition to modernize the imperial navy on its own.

Therefore, the Ottoman government organized donation campaigns throughout the Empire, encouraging the participation of all the Ottomans in this patriotic effort. Egyptians also responded to this call. In a telegram sent to the Ottoman government, the Egyptian government put forth that it was everyone’s duty to join the aid collection campaign for the Ottoman navy and that they were ready to provide assistance in this endeavor.660 A similar document found in the Ottoman archives argued that Egyptians were eager to join the activities of the “Navy

Committee” that was established to raise funds.661 The fact that these efforts to join the fund raising campaign were initiated by the Egyptian elite themselves, and were not prompted by the

Ottoman government, is important to emphasize.

All these examples show that identification with the Ottoman Empire was still quite strong and widespread in Egypt in the pre-World War I years, even as a sense of Egyptian identity developed. Not only the ruling and civilian elites in Cairo and Alexandria – male and female alike -- but large segments of society in the Egyptian subprovinces contributed in various ways to supporting the Ottoman Empire in the Balkan Wars.

The Egyptian Red Crescent and the Balkan Wars

The final part of this chapter will analyze the role that the Egyptian Red Crescent played in the Balkan Wars, a topic that has not been discussed in too much detail in the scholarly

659 Rogan, The Fall of the Ottomans, 31-32. 660 BOA, DH.SYS 75 15/ 1 37, 18 Z 1331/ 18 November 1913. 661 BOA, A.MTZ (05), 30/108, 27 M 1332/ 26 December 1913.

211

literature. The Egyptian Red Crescent (hereafter ERC) provided critical support to the Ottoman government in coping with the mass of refugees fleeing toward Istanbul. The medical staff of the

ERC, both male and female, also played a crucial role in treating Ottoman soldiers on the battlefield. This show of support by the Egyptian Red Crescent can be interpreted as another manifestation of the Ottoman mentality that existed in Egypt at this time, and more broadly, of

Egyptian identification with the Ottomans at a time of massive humanitarian crisis.

The ERC’s role in the Balkan Wars has not been widely discussed in the secondary scholarship. In a brief article in the Journal of the International Society for the International

History of Islamic Medicine, Zuhal Özaydın notes that during the Balkan Wars, the Ottoman Red

Crescent society accepted the help coming from the Egyptian Red Crescent. The ERC, she points out, sent four medical teams to Istanbul, established a hospital there , and shipped a number of refugees to Izmir from the Balkans by a ship named “The .”662 Eyal Ginio, meanwhile, puts the ERC’s assistance in the context of the larger philanthropy campaign undertaken by the

Egyptian ruling elite.663 The following analysis will go deeper into the activities of the Egyptian

Red Crescent during and after the Balkan Wars, arguing that their activities and the support shown to them by the Egyptian public could be interpreted as another sign of the strong affiliation with the Ottoman Empire that continued to exist in Egypt at the time.

During the Balkan Wars, the Egyptian Red Crescent was under the patronage of Mehmed

Ali Pasha, the brother of Khedive Abbas Hilmi II, who had also taken an active role in the aid collection campaigns analyzed above. He supervised the ERC’s aid program, including the four

662 Zuhal Özaydın, “The Egyptian Red Crescent Society’s Aid to the Ottoman State During the Balkan War in 1912,” Journal of the International Society for the International History of Islamic Medicine, (2003): 18-19. 663 Ginio, “War, Dynasty, and Philanthropy,” 178-181.

212

medical delegations sent to Istanbul in late 1912.664 As Ginio notes, the Egyptian ruling elite organized meetings before the departure of the delegations in order to demonstrate their patriotism. The first sent-off included members of the ruling family, Lord Kitchener, the Shaykh al-Azhar and numerous Egyptian intellectuals.665

The Egyptian Red Crescent played a significant part in tending to the wounded Ottoman soldiers as well as alleviating the hardship suffered by the refugees. The first delegation set up the hospital mentioned above. Later delegations of the ERC helped the civilian refugees. On 6

February 1913, al-Ahrām reported that part of the third ERC delegation was treating Balkan refugees in Istanbul.666 The ERC also gave the Ottoman government thirty thousand liras collected in Egypt to build an orphanage for refugee children in Istanbul.667 The ERC delegations even brought assistance to people in the Balkans. One delegation transferred sick and wounded refugees from Salonica to Izmir where they received aid collected in Egypt.668 For this assistance that ERC provided, Salonica’s ousted dignitaries thanked Mehmed Ali Pasha in writing.669 When

Edirne fell to the Bulgarians, an ERC delegation was sent there as well,670 and after the Ottomans retook it, the ERC continued its assistance. The Egyptian parliament gave the ERC additional

664 “Ḥaula al-ḥarb al-balqāniyya fī al-quṭr al-miṣrī” (About the Balkan War in Egypt), al-Ahrām, 12 Za 1330/ 21 October 1912, 1-2. 665 “Ḥaflat al-Hilāl al-Aḥmār al-miṣri fī sarāy ṣāḥib al-samū al-amīr al-mu‘aẓẓam Muḥammad ‘Alī Bāshā” (Gathering of the Egyptian Red Crescent in the Palace of His Highness the Great Mehmed Ali Pasha), al-Ahrām, 21 Za 1330/ 30 October 1912, 1-2. 666 “Ḥawadith maḥalliyya: Ba‘thāt al-Hilāl al-Aḥmar” (Local News: The Red Crescent), al-Ahrām, 29 S 1331/ 6 February 1913, 2. 667 BOA, A.MTZ.05 30/117, 27 S 1332/ 25 January 1914. 668 “Ba‘athāt al-Hilāl al-Aḥmar” (Red Crescent Delegations), al-Ahrām, 17 S 1331/ 25 January 1913, 2; BOA, A.MTZ.05, 9E/ 323 2, 25 Za 1330/ November 1912. 669 “Al-Hilāl al-Aḥmar al-miṣrī wa shukr ahālī Selānīk lihi” (The Egyptian Red Crescent and the People of Salonika’s Gratitude Towards It), al-Ahrām, 11 Ra 1331/ 17 February 1913, 2. 670 “Ba‘athāt al-Hilāl al-Aḥmar” (Red Crescent Delegations), al-Ahrām, 7 Ca 1331/ 14 April 1913, 2.

213

funds for it mission in Edirne,671 while an article in al-Ahrām indicated that the ERC headquarters in Egypt had sent 1000 pounds to help the inhabitants of the city.672

In addition to this concrete assistance, the patrons and members of the ERC assisted the

Ottoman Empire in publicizing the sufferings that the Ottoman populations of the Balkan regions were going through in the hands of the Balkan states. Mehmed Ali Pasha and Ömer Tosun Pasha, for instance, took the initiative to write to the rulers and parliaments of the European powers, protesting against the atrocities committed by the Balkan League states against the Ottoman population and asking these rulers to intervene.673 Moreover, an officer in the fourth delegation of ERC, Kāmil Tīmūr Bey, who had been posted to Salonica, wrote a report in French on the atrocities that he had witnessed in the region and sent it to Egyptian prime minister (reis-i nüzzar). The Ottoman government used this report for condemning the actions of the Balkan states in the eyes of the European powers as well as the European public.674

These efforts by the Egyptian Red Crescent did not go unnoticed by the Ottoman government or the Ottoman public. As the first ERC delegation prepared to leave Istanbul, it was met by a cheering crowd of Ottoman citizens; at an official departure ceremony, speeches were made that emphasized the bond between the Ottoman Empire and Egypt. Yet, all this Ottoman fellow feeling could not mask the growing influence of Egyptian nationalism. As Khaled Fahmy points out, modern medical training in Egypt at this time was designed in such a way that, only

Arabic was used as a language of education, meaning that Egyptians from various backgrounds were educated while Ottoman Turkish-speaking members of the population were barred from

671 “Al-Hilāl al-Aḥmar al-miṣri” (The Egyptian Red Crescent), al-Ahrām, 20 Ş 1331/ 24 July 1913, 5. 672 “Al-Hilāl al-Aḥmar al-miṣri wa ba‘thātuhu fī al-Balqān” (The Egyptian Red Crescent and its Delegations in the Balkans), al-Ahrām, 25 Ş 1331/ 29 July 1913, 5. 673 “Al-Hilāl al-Aḥmar al-miṣri wa iḥtijājuhi ‘alā faẓā’i‘a al-balqāniyya” (The Egyptian Red Crescent and Its Protest Against the Balkan Atrocities), al-Ahrām, 5 R 1331/ 13 March 1913, 2. 674 BOA, BEO, 4152/311395, 26 R 1331/ 4 April 1913; BOA, BEO, 4173/ 312975, 11 C 1331/ 18 May 1913.

214

enrolling in these schools.675 Thus, it was not surprising that the members of the ERC delegation in Istanbul made their speeches in Arabic and their words were translated into Ottoman Turkish.

What this demonstrates is that Egyptian identity was beginning to diverge from Ottoman identity.676

Nevertheless, the Ottoman government publicly expressed its gratitude to the ERC.

Sultan Mehmed Reşad, despite being a figurehead, also met separately with Mehmed Ali Pasha and other representatives of the ERC delegations, allowing them to display their loyalty to the caliph.677 Moreover, the Ottoman government also awarded orders and medals to various people connected to the ERC. An order sent to the Ottoman High Commissioner in Egypt indicated that one Kemal Bey, identified as a representative of the ERC (Mısır Hilal-ı Ahmer Cemiyeti vekili), was granted an order by the Ottoman government.678 The Ottoman government specially recognized the role that women played in the ERC by granting them Şefkat Orders. According to al-Ahrām, the recipients of this order included female members of the khedivial family, such as

Princess Nazperver Hanım Efendi, mother of Prince Yusuf Kemal Pasha, and Princess Ayşe

Hanım Efendi, wife of Prince Mehmed Ali Hasan Pasha.679

Conclusion

The Balkan Wars proved to be another watershed moment in the history of the Ottoman

Empire. This chapter has utilized this event in order to analyze the prevalence of an Ottoman consciousness in Egypt, both within the ruling and intellectual elite, and among the wider

675 Khaled Fahmy, In Quest of Justice: Islamic Law and Forensic Medicine in Modern Egypt (Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2018), 166. 676 “Al-hilāl al-Aḥmar al-miṣrī” (The Egyptian Red Crescent), al-Ahrām, 12 B 1331/ 17 June 1913, 5. 677 “Ḥawadith maḥalliyya: Shaqīq al-janāb al-khidīwī” (Local News: The Brother of Majesty the Khedive), al- Ahrām 11 Ş 1331/ 15 July 1913, 5; BOA, DH.MTV, 38/64, 12 Eylül 1329/ 25 September 1913; BOA, DH.MTV, 38/64, 04 Za 1331/ 5 October 1913; BOA, İ.MBH, 13/53, 04 Za 1331/ 5 October 1913; BOA, İ.MBH, 12/67, 20 B 1331/ 25 June 1913; BOA, İ.MBH, 12/67, 20 Ş 1331/ 25 July 1913. 678 BOA, A.MTZ (05), 30/ 33, 17 C 1331, 24 May 1913. 679 “Haula al-Hilāl al-Ahmar” (About the Red Crescent), al-Ahrām, 19 N 1331/ 21 August 1913, 4.

215

Egyptian public. It has argued that the intellectuals in Egypt continued to demonstrate a sense of

Ottoman mentality which was evident both in how they responded to the defeats that the

Ottoman Empire had suffered and in their reactions to the rare victories that the Empire managed to attain, such as the recapture of Edirne. Moreover, the intellectuals in Egypt actively participated in the debates on the future of the Ottoman Empire that were going on among the

Turcophone Ottoman intelligentsia. This active participation, the chapter argued, was another manifestation of the Ottoman consciousness that existed among the Egyptian intellectual elite.

In addition to the intellectuals, wider segments of the Egyptian population also displayed a sense of solidarity with the Ottoman Empire during and after the Balkan Wars. As was the case with the Ottoman-Greek War of 1897, the Egyptian population rushed to the help of the Empire by collecting aid for the Ottoman military and the Ottoman refugees. The names of donors were published in the Egyptian press, allowing individuals from different segments of the population to perform their Ottomanness. The chapter also claimed that the Egyptian ruling elite played a significant role in providing support for the Ottoman Empire through organizing donation campaigns, building orphanages or volunteering to fight within the Ottoman military.

Finally, the chapter focused on the role that the Egyptian Red Crescent played during the

Balkan Wars. The Egyptian Red Crescent, headed by Ömer Tosun Pasha and Mehmed Ali

Pasha, provided invaluable assistance to the Ottoman Empire by treating the wounded Ottoman soldiers and helping the refugees, who were affected by the war. This chapter has argued that this show of support by the Egyptian Red Crescent was another important example of the Ottoman mentality that existed in Egypt at the time.

216

Chapter 5: Kadriye Hüseyin: A Forgotten Ottoman-Egyptian Intellectual

Introduction

The first chapter of this work focused on the Egyptian court and the ruling elite, and demonstrated how they were still very active participants in the Ottoman cultural milieu. The next three chapters shifted the focus to the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of Egypt as well as the wider segments of Egyptian society and examined the way they responded to some of the key events that the Ottoman Empire was going through at the end of the 19th and the beginning of the

20th centuries. This final part of the analysis will come full circle in a way and bring to light one of the largely forgotten figures of the Egyptian ruling elite, namely Kadriye Hüseyin, who was not only a member of the Egyptian ruling family but was also a productive intellectual. Her works ranged from history books, essays, and poems, to translations and travelogues. This chapter will present Kadriye Hüseyin as an important literary figure who was an active part of the Ottoman intellectual environment, while also being nurtured by the cultural currents that were prevalent in Egypt in the beginning of the 20th century.

Almost nothing has been written in English on Kadriye Hüseyin. In Feminists, Islam, and

Nation: Gender and the Making of Modern Egypt, Margot Badran mentions her in passing noting that she contributed some essays on to the feminist journal L’Egyptienne (The

Egyptian Woman), which was the mouthpiece of the Egyptian Feminist Union between 1925 and

1940.680 Another reference to Kadriye comes in an article on the Arab woman poet al-Khansa, written by Michelle Hartman, who cites Kadriye’s Shahīrāt al-nisāʾ fī al-ʿālam al-Islāmī

(Famous Women in the Islamic World) as a source of information for al-Khansa’s life and

680 Margot Badran, Feminists, Islam, and Nation: Gender and the Making of Modern Egypt (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995), 104.

217

works.681 Marilyn Booth also mentions that Kadriye “wrote about Egyptian queens and early

Muslim women.”682 In her memoirs, first published in English in 1963, Emine Fuat Tugay gives some biographical information on Kadriye and recounts a visit that Kadriye had made to her home in Istanbul, right before the Balkan Wars started.683 The scholar, who has done most to present Kadriye to the English-speaking world, however, is Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu. In his study of the cultural legacy of the Ottomans in Egypt, İhsanoğlu analyzes Kadriye as one of the women intellectuals who emerged from the Egyptian khedivial court. He insists that Kadriye Hüseyin deserves the attention of scholars of the Ottoman Empire.684

Recently, Turkish literary historians have taken up İhsanoğlu’s call. Betul Coşkun, for instance, analyzes Kadriye’s contribution to the “woman question” in the Ottoman Empire, stressing that she identified with the Ottoman Empire and the wider Islamic world.685 Nesrin

Tağızade-Karaca, on the other hand, focuses on Kadriye’s literary publications, noting her coverage of meeting with Mustafa Kemal, Greek atrocities in Izmir, and famous women from

681 Michelle Hartman, “An Arab Woman Poet as a Crossover Artist? Reconsidering the Ambivalent Legacy of al- Khansa’,” Tulsa Studies in Women’s Literature 30, no.1 (Spring 2011): 19. 682 Marilyn Booth, May Her Likes Be Multiplied; Biography and Gender Politics in Egypt (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001), 35. 683 Emine Foat Tugay, Three Centuries: Family Chronicles of Turkey and Egypt (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1963), 291-293. 684 Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu, The Turks in Egypt and Their Cultural Legacy: An Analytical Study of Turkish Printed Patrimony in Egypt from the Time of Muhammad ‘Ali with Annotated Bibliographies trans. Humphrey Davis (Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press, 2012), 72-74. 685 Betül Coşkun, “Mısır Prensesi, Osmanlı Edibesi Kadriye Hüseyin Hanım,” Erdem: Journal of Humanities and Social Sciences, 63 (2012): 79-85.

218

Islamic history.686 Finally, Bilal Kalyon analyzes Kadriye’s Mehasin-i Hayat as a work of

“education of moral values.”687

Furthermore, no meaningful work has been done on Kadriye in Egypt in the recent times.

This is surprising when contrasted with the attention that she received in the 1920s, when two of her works were translated into Arabic from French and Ottoman Turkish. The first of these was

Lettres d’Angora la sainte (Letters from Sacred Ankara), her account of her visit to Ankara during the Turkish nationalist struggle, published in French in 1921 and in Arabic translation in

1922.688 Considering that the Egyptians were waging their own independence struggle against the British at this time, it is not surprising that a book written by a member of the khedivial family on the Turkish efforts to defy the “Western” powers, especially the British, was deemed to be relevant for the Egyptian reading public. Meanwhile, the second volume of her

Muhadderat-ı İslam (Virtuous Ladies of Islam), composed in Ottoman Turkish, was published in

Arabic in 1924.689 Considering her social and financial position in Egypt at this time, it may be plausible to argue that Kadriye may have sponsored these translations herself. Kadriye also was

686 Nesrin Tağızade-Karaca, “Prenses Kadriye Hüseyin, Ressam Vittorio Pisani ve Türk Milli Mücadelesi,” Turkish Studies: International Periodical for the Languages, Literature and History of Turkish or Turkic, 7, no.1 (Winter 2012): 1971-1973; Nesrin Tağızade-Karaca, “Prenses Kadriye Hüseyin’in (1888-1955) Düşünce Dünyasında Doğu- Batı,” in Uluslararası Türk-Arap Müşterek Değerler ve Kültürel Etkileşim Sempozyumu Bildiriler Kitabı, eds. Mehmet Sıddık Yıldırım (, : Yunus Emre Enstitüsü, 2014), 400; Nesrin Karaca, “Son Dönem Osmanlı Edebiyatında Unutulmuş Bir Kadın Yazar: Prenses Kadriye Hüseyin (1888-1955,” (Paper presented at Uluslararası Medeniyet ve Kadın Kongresi: Halide Edip Adıvar’ın Ölümünün 50. Yılı Anısına, Muğla, Turkey, 20- 22 October 2014). See also, Abuzer Kalyon and Zeynep Gözde Kozlu, “Prenses Kadriye Hüseyin ve Eserleri,” Külliyat: Osmanlı Araştırmaları Dergisi, no.3 (December 2017): 52-63. 687 Bilal Kalyon, “Prenses Kadriye Hüseyin’in Mehasin-i Hayat Adlı Eserinin Değerler Eğitimi Açısından İncelenmesi ve Eserin Bugünkü Harflere Aktarılması” Unpublished M.A Thesis, Mevlana Üniversitesi, 2015. 688 Princess Qadrīya Ḥusayn, Rasā’il Anqara al-muqaddasa trans. Aḥmad Rif‘at (Cairo: al-Maktaba al-Tijaārīya, 1922). 689 Princess Qadrīya Ḥusayn, Shahīrāt al-nisāʾ fī al-ʿālam al-Islāmī (Famous Women in the Islamic World) trans. ‘Abd al-Azīz Amīn al-Khājī (Miṣr: al-Maktaba al-Miṣrīyya, 1924).

219

an active participant within the Egyptian intellectual circles in the 1930s.690 Yet, in the decades since, she has been largely ignored in Egypt.

I contend that Kadriye Hüseyin was largely forgotten by the Ottoman historians because she was not “Ottoman enough” since she was born and raised in Egypt. On the other hand, she was ignored by scholars of modern Egypt because she was not “Egyptian enough,” as she wrote most of her works in Ottoman Turkish. I attempt to bridge this gap between these two attitudes by presenting Kadriye Hüseyin as a representation of the Ottoman cultural consciousness that continued to flourish in Egypt at the beginning of the 20th century. It will argue that while

Kadriye Hüseyin wrote in Ottoman Turkish and was intellectually nurtured by the Ottoman literary traditions, such as the genre of “advice literature” and early Ottoman novels, she was also influenced by the intellectual currents that were prevalent in Egypt at the time, most importantly the trend of publishing biographies of famous women to encourage women’s advancement in the early 20th -century Egypt.

Following a brief overview of Kadriye Hüseyin’s life and literary career, I will analyze how she represented herself in her works, arguing that she considered herself culturally Ottoman.

Her identification with the Ottoman Empire, like that of many Egyptian intellectuals, became particularly strong after the Young Turk Revolution and during the Balkan Wars, although her

Ottoman identification also had strong religious undertones that connected her to wider Muslim or “Eastern” world. Placing her works in the context of Ottoman literary tradition reveals that she was influenced by the genre of “advice literature” as well as the didactic novels of the post-

Tanzimat era. She contributed to efforts to reshape Ottoman society by writing didactic works that “taught” readers how to live a better life, which would then improve the conditions of the

“nation.” In this effort, she was inspired by Ottoman female intellectuals such as Fatma Aliye. At

690 Badran, Feminists, Islam, and Nation, 104.

220

the same time, however, she responded to literary currents in Egypt, particularly the updated use of biographical dictionaries to advance women’s status. Muhadderat-ı İslam, one of her most famous works, exemplifies this trend as it allowed Kadriye to express her own opinions on the status of women in the “Eastern” world.691

The Life and Works of Kadriye Hüseyin

As almost all the scholars who work on her usually note, not much is known about

Kadriye Hüseyin’s life. According to İhsanoğlu, she was born in Cairo on January 10, 1888. She was the daughter of Hüseyin Kamil Pasha, who was the son of Khedive Ismail and who would become in 1914, when Britain declared Egypt a protectorate on the outbreak of

World War I. Kadriye’s mother was Melek Sultan and she had two sisters, Samihe and Bedia. In her memoirs, Emine Fuat Tugay describes Kadriye as “small and slim, with large amber eyes and finely traced features,” while also emphasizing her “love of beauty.”692 In 1919, Kadriye married Celaleddin Sırrı Bey but this marriage did not last very long. In 1921, she married once again, this time to Mahmud Hayri Pasha and moved to Istanbul, where she lived between 1922 and 1930. When King Fuad (r.1922-1936) ordered the members of the royal family to reside in

Egypt, Kadriye returned to Cairo, where she lived intermittently until the Free Officers

Revolution in 1952. At this time, Kadriye, along with other members of the Egyptian ruling family, was arrested by the new Egyptian regime but was released at the end of a trial. After the

1952 Revolution, Kadriye started to live outside of Egypt and passed away in 1955.693 During much of her life, she maintained ties to the Ottoman royal family, as did her son Mahmud

691 I refer to her throughout this chapter as Kadriye rather than as Hüseyin, her father’s name, as part of my effort to restore her to history as a distinct female actor. In this connection, Beth Baron, Egypt as a Woman: Nationalism, Gender, and Politics (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 11. 692 Tugay, Three Centuries, 291-292. 693 İhsanoğlu, The Turks in Egypt, 72-74; Tağızade-Karaca, “Prenses Kadriye Hüseyin, Ressam Vittoria Pisani ve Türk Milli Mücadelesi,” 1968-1969; Coşkun, “Mısır Prensesi, Osmanlı Edibesi Kadriye Hüseyin Hanım,” 65-66.

221

Hüseyin Hayri Bey, who married to Sultan Abdülmecid’s granddaughter Princess Fevziye

Sultan.694

The origins of Kadriye’s intellectual development are also obscure. Details on her early education are scant. Her body of work demonstrates that she had an excellent command of

Ottoman Turkish, Arabic, and French. İhsanoğlu states that Ottoman Turkish, as well as Arabic and Persian, had been a central element of education for the members of the Mehmed Ali Pasha dynasty.695 Based on this information, it would not be too far-fetched to speculate that Kadriye may have had private tutors, who taught her in these subjects. Even though the influence of

Ottoman Turkish was gradually diminishing in Egypt, being replaced with Arabic, it was still an important part of the education of Egypt’s ruling elite in the late 19th century, as Kadriye’s publications in this language attest. As İhsanoğlu points out in his book, the Egyptian court also produced a number of female literary figures, such as Çeşm-i Afet and Gülperi. Kadriye Hüseyin was the most important figure to emerge out of this cultural environment.696 Her literary output also demonstrates familiarity with works on Western literature and philosophy, Islamic chronicles and the history of the Islamic civilization, underlining the fact that she was confortable navigating both the “Eastern” and “Western” schools of thought.697

Kadriye Hüseyin was a prolific intellectual, producing works in a variety of genres.

Between 1909 and 1915, she produced five books in Ottoman Turkish, namely Mühim Bir Gece

(An Important Night), Nelerim (Concerns of Mine), Mehasin-i Hayat (Virtues of Life),

Muhadderat-ı İslam (Virtuous Ladies of Islam), and Temevvücat-ı Efkar (Ideas in Flux). She also wrote a great number of articles for journals that were published in Istanbul. Using the pennames

694 Coşkun, “Mısır Prensesi, Osmanlı Edibesi Kadriye Hüseyin Hanım,” 65-66. 695 İhsanoğlu, The Turks in Egypt, 44-45. 696 Ibid., 68-79. 697 Coşkun, “Mısır Prensesi, Osmanlı Edibesi Kadriye Hüseyin Hanım,” 79, 83-84.

222

“Nilüfer” and “Nilüfer Mazlum,” Kadriye wrote numerous philosophical essays for Şehbal, some of which were later collected in her book Nelerim, and articles for the Ottoman women’s journal

Kadınlar Dünyası between 1912 and 1914. She also published short stories in serial format in various Istanbul journals. In some of these, she used the theme of “family” to advance her views on the status of women.698 Her other stories were quasi-historical, blending real events with fantastical elements, in a style that showed the influence of ancient Turkic, Egyptian, Iranian and

Chinese literary traditions.699

A final genre for which Kadriye is especially well-known is the travel memoir. She described traveling through Anatolia during the Turkish Nationalist Struggle in 1921 in Lettres d’Angora la sainte (Letters from Sacred Ankara) and covered her travels in Italy in İtalya

Seyahatnamesi. Other than these works, Kadriye also wrote numerous travel accounts about the

Islamic lands and published them in serial form in journals, such as Şehbal and Mihrab, in an effort to counteract prevailing Orientalist steorotypes, while introducing the “forgotten” women of Islamic history to a wider audience.700 Lastly, Kadriye also tried her hand in poetry even though it seems that she did not produce many works in this form, as only five of her poems have been located.701

Self-Representation in Kadriye Hüseyin’s Works

Like many Egyptian intellectuals, Kadriye Hüseyin was galvanized by the upsurge of patriotic feelings that the Young Turk Revolution brought forth. In 1909, she translated a play written by the Polish-Austrian author Leopold Kampf, originally published in German in 1905

698 Ibid., 70-72. 699 Ibid., 73. 700 Ibid. 77-79. 701 Ibid., 69-70.

223

with the title Am Vorabend: Drama in drei Akten.702 The play was later translated into English in

1907 (On The Eve: A Drama in Three Acts)703 and into French one year later (Le grand soir: pièce en trois actes).704 Kadriye translated this French version into Ottoman Turkish and it was published by the Osmanlı Matbaası (Ottoman Printing House) in Cairo as Mühim Bir Gece in

1909.

Mühim Bir Gece narrates the story of a group of young Russian revolutionaries on the eve of the 1905 revolution. Kadriye’s introduction provides valuable insights into her identification with the Ottoman Empire and how she was affected by the patriotic feelings unleashed by the Young Turk Revolution. Kadriye emphasized the role that literary works play in awakening feelings in the people (ihsas-ı beşeri tenbihe). She argued that it was even better if the works in question worked towards arousing or stimulating (ikaz) a patriotic feeling (hiss-i vatanperver) while guiding the way to freedom and happiness (tarik-i hürriyet ve saadeti irşad).705 She had chosen to translate Kampf’s play because she believed that it was just such a work, and that translating it at this juncture would contribute to the “national feelings” that had been awakened recently (şu sırada uyanmış olan ehsasat-ı kavmiyemizin), an obvious reference to the Young Turk Revolution. She describted herself as translating this work into “our language” (lisanımıza)- meaning Ottoman Turkish- in order to serve "my nation" (kavmime).706

These sentiments clearly show that, like many other Egyptian intellectuals, she partook of the

Ottoman collective mentality and shared the patriotic enthusiasm that followed the Revolution in

1908.

702 Leopold Kampf, Am Vorabend: Drama in drei Akten (Berlin: Schuster & Loeffler, 1905). 703 Leopold Kampf, On The Eve: A Drama in Three Acts, trans. unknown (New York: Wilshire Book Company, 1907). 704 Leopold Kampf, Le grand soir: pièce en trois actes, trans. Robert d’Humières (Paris: Imprimiere de l’illustration, 1908). 705 Kadriye Hüseyin, “Bir İki Söz,” in Leopold Kampf, Mühim Bir Gece, trans. Kadriye Hüseyin (Cairo: Osmanlı Matbaası, 1909). 706 Ibid.

224

The contents of Leopold Kampf’s play also give clues to the way Kadriye thought about the Young Turk Revolution and the Abdülhamid regime that the Young Turks struggled against before 1908. Mühim Bir Gece tells the story of five young Russian revolutionaries, fighting against the czarist regime. These revolutionaries run a clandestine printing shop at their place and the play depicts their relationships with each other and their struggle with the instruments of the government, as well as their efforts to awaken the Russian people, topple the czarist regime, and usher in an era of better rule for Russia. As rendered by Kadriye, however, it emerges as a critique of the not-dissimilar Hamidian regime and a tribute to the Young Turks. The repressive czarist government depicted in the play stands in for the repressive regime of Sultan

Abdülhamid. Towards the beginning of the play, the young revolutionary Anton worries that he and his comrades might be arrested and sent to .707 Another revolutionary recalls the horrors of prison.708 Like Nicholas II, Abdülhamid used prison and exile to remote parts of the

Empire as ways to silence the critics of his regime. Also like the Russian czar, Abdülhamid employed a large network of spies who seemed to be everywhere. In Kampf’s play, numerous characters complain about being followed by spies (her adımda bir hafiye).709

Kampf’s play, as translated by Kadriye, can also be read as a symbol of the hopes that the

Young Turks and the Young Turk Revolution represented for the Ottoman Empire. In one scene in the play, the characters Sofia and Anton lament that Sofia’s grandmother would not allow photographs of the couple’s young son since she superstiously believed that the camera would steal the child’s soul.710 Like the Young Turks, the revolutionaries struggle against this sort of

707 Leopold Kampf, Mühim Bir Gece, trans. Kadriye Hüseyin (Cairo: Osmanlı Matbaası, 1909), 13-14. 708 Ibid., 33-35. 709 Ibid. 19-20, 37-38 710 Ibid., 13.

225

ignorance in the name of “progress.”711 More generally, they repeatedly reaffirm their commitment to freedom – again, just like the Young Turks. In 1909, when she translated

Kampf’s play, Kadriye felt positive about the Young Turk Revolution of 1908, which she hoped would bring a better future for the Empire. Four years later, however, her tone had become bleaker as the Empire faced one of the worst crises of its long history, namely the Balkan Wars.

Kadriye published the first volume of Muhadderat-ı İslam in August 1913, only a few months after the end of the Balkan Wars, at a time when the future existence of the Empire itself seemed to be at stake. Pessimism regarding the Empire’s fate is evident in Kadriye’s

Muhadderat-ı İslam.712 The most famous of Kadriye’s works, it was immediately recognized as a landmark by leading Ottoman intellectuals such as Recaizade Mahmud Ekrem, who sent Kadriye a letter in praise of her achievement.713 In the book, Kadriye narrated the biographies of famous women from Islamic history in order to provide examples for Muslim women of her times. She also uses these biographies to offer a critique of the status of women in the “Eastern” societies of the early 20th century.

From the outset, Kadriye demonstrated her solidarity with the Ottoman Empire even though she did not name it explicitly. In her introduction she referred to the red Ottoman flag with a as “our national banner” while noting that she considered every land inhabited by Muslims as her “religious nation.”714 These statements make it obvious that

Kadriye’s sympathies lay with the Ottoman Empire, the last remaining sovereign Islamic power at this time but also that her identification as an Ottoman had strong religious undertones.

711 Ibid., 12-13. 712 The word “muhadderat” was the Turkish pronunciation of the Arabic word “mukhaddara,” which comes from the root “khadira,” and means a “girl or woman kept in seclusion from the outside world. See Hans Wehr, A Dictionary of Modern Written Arabic (Arabic-English) 4th Edtion, ed. J. Milton Cowan, (Urbana, IL: Spoken Language Services, 1994), 266. 713 Kadriye Hüseyin, Büyük İslam Kadınları (Muhadderat-ı İslam) (Istanbul: Bedir Yayınevi, 1982), 131-135. 714 Ibid., 7.

226

At various points in the narrative, moreover, her allusions to the catastrophes that the

Ottoman Empire was going through at the time are more explicit. In the book’s first biography, that of the Prophet Muhammad’s wife Khadija, for instance, Kadriye noted that the catastrophe that her nation was going through at the time had led her to compile these biographies of Islamic luminaries as a means of finding hope.715 In her biography of Shajarat al-Durr, who briefly ruled

Egypt at the end of the in 1250, Kadriye even mentioned one of the most important battles of the Balkan Wars, comparing the Crusader occupation of to the

Bulgarian capture of Kırkkilise in November 1912.716 She implied that the Ottoman Empire could extricate itself from this quagmire by taking lessons from the past glories of the Islamic history. At the same time, however, she advocated an elevation in the status of women in

“Eastern” societies, at least to the level that she believed the Muslim women had enjoyed in the distant past. This advocacy was one of the primary reasons she was recounting the life stories of these women. In the perceived struggle between the “East” and “West,” Kadriye clearly identified herself with the “East,” which in this context meant the “Muslim” world, the strongest representative of which was the Ottoman Empire.

Kadriye’s 1912 publication Temevvücat-ı Efkar (Ideas in Flux), allowed her to underline her identification with the Ottoman Empire through the prism of the conflict with Italy over

Tripolitania. Temevvücat was a compliation of articles that Kadriye had written on a variety of topics, some of which had already been published in newspapers. In an article dated 17 Zilkade

1329 (9 November 1911), Kadriye described her reactions to Italy’s invasion of Tripolitania, which she cast as a conflict between Italy and “Turkiya.” She wondered how “this poor nation” would be able to resist this new challenge, and agonized over the ’ seizure of Tripoli’s

715 Ibid., 11-12. 716 Ibid.

227

Hamidiye castle.717 While she labeled the Italians as the “enemy,” Kadriye described the

Ottoman soldiers as “our soldiers” (bizim askerler).718 Yet, she also criticized the Ottoman government for allowing the Italians to exploit their negligence (gaflet ve ihmal).719 Nonetheless, most of her ire is reserved for the Italians, who claimed to be undertaking a “civilizing mission” in Tripolitania but who massacred the local population, which heroically resisted.720

Kadriye Hüseyin as an Ottoman-Egyptian Literary Figure

Having demonstrated how Kadriye Hüseyin represented herself as a part of the Ottoman world, the chapter will now turn towards examining her literary background. Kadriye Hüseyin was influenced by a number of Ottoman literary traditions, notably the nasihatname or “advice literature” genre, and the post-Tanzimat didactic novels. She can also be considered to be a follower of the Islamic reformist thinking that was influential in Egypt and Ottoman Empire around the turn of the 20th century. As was seen above, Kadriye was aware of the challenges facing “Eastern” societies at this time, especially from Western imperialism. Her conflicting feelings of hope and anxiety for the future, which the majority of Ottomans shared at the time, combined with the widely-held 19th century belief that literary works could be used to better people’s lives, led her to write “life manuals” that would improve Ottoman society as a whole. I will use two of these works, Mehasin-i Hayat and Nelerim, to demonstrate how Kadriye tried to achieve this goal, while at the same time noting the literary traditions on which these works were based.

The Ottoman Empire had been on the defensive against the European powers since the late 18th century. The Balkan territories, which had once constituted the core of the Empire, were

717 Kadriye Hüseyin, Temevvücat-ı Efkar (Mısır: Maarif Matbaası, 1330 [1911-1912]), 163-166. 718 Ibid., 174-180. 719 Ibid., 182-183. 720 Ibid., 185-191.

228

slipping out of Ottoman control, a process completed during the Balkan Wars. Closer to home for Kadriye, the Empire seemed unable to resist the Western encroachments on its Arab territories. France occupied in 1830 and in 1881, and Italy invaded Libya in

1911. Most important and relevant for Kadriye, however, was the fact that Britain occupied

Egypt in 1882 and kept a tight grip on it, even though members of Kadriye’s family were the nominal rulers of the province. Kadriye was also discouraged by the encroachment of Western values and Western ways of life on her own society. Her disappointment and anxiety about this state of affairs can most clearly be seen at numerous points in Muhadderat-ı İslam. In the introduction, Kadriye harked back nostalgically to a time when the “East” was a source of learning, whereas now the "West" had led the way.721 Kadriye also criticized the blind imitation of the West, however, arguing that Western tastes had invaded the society, while she also voiced the widespread opinion – held by Rashīd Ridā – that Eastern cultures should adopt only the necessary for the advancement of their societies while rejecting the “moral values” of the West.722 Kadriye held “Eastern” women accountable for blindly copying what they perceived to be “Western” values and Western modes of thought which, she argued, had led these women to forget their own essence.723

Kadriye’s critiques of “over-” of the society were in tune with the opinions expressed in novels by the leading literary figures of the late Ottoman Empire.724 In his

1875 novel, Felatun Bey and Rakım Efendi, for instance, the prolific late Ottoman novelist

Ahmed Midhat, introduced a character, Felatun Bey, whom he portrayed as “the spoiled son of a

Westernized family whose sole aim in life is to obtain a veneer of European culture with which

721 Hüseyin, Büyük İslam Kadınları, 7-8. 722 Hüseyin, Büyük İslam Kadınları, 68-69. 723 Ibid., 114-115. 724 Berna Moran, Türk Romanına Eleştirel Bir Bakış 1: ’tan Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar’a (İstanbul: İletişim Yayınları, 1983), 14.

229

to impress his peers and delude himself.”725 Ahmed Midhat contrasted Felatun Bey with Rakım

Efendi, whom the author depicts as a more balanced synthesis of Eastern and Western cultures and who advances intellectually and materially through his hard work, whereas Felatun Bey meets financial ruin.726

Arguably one of the best examples of the moralizing late Ottoman novel, however, is

Recaizade Ekrem’s famous Araba Sevdası (Carriage Crazy), which was published in 1896. The main character, Bihruz Bey, is the son of an Ottoman pasha. He receives a large inheritance when his father dies and uses it to pursue a care-free existence. Recaizade Ekrem portrayed

Bihruz Bey as someone who disdains his own culture while fervently admiring everything

European, especially French. He tries to dress and act like an alafranga (European-style) gentleman. Although he is only barely acquainted with the , he uses French words in his daily speech in order to appear more cultured and refined. Araba Sevdası follows

Bihruz Bey’s pursuit of a woman, named Periveş, and how he squanders his whole wealth in this endeavor, resulting in financial disaster in the end. Through Bihruz Bey, Recaizade Ekrem satirized the blind imitation of Western values among the upper echelons of late Ottoman society. In fact, he made this critique explicit in the novel, putting forth that this “disease” of imitating European modes of behavior was adopted first by the members of the Ottoman elite and then spread more widely among young men of good family who had the means to follow suit

(“Şu hikayeyi teşkil eden vakayi ve ahvalin zaman-ı cereyanı olan bundan yirmi beş, otuz sene mukaddemleri Avrupa görmüş bazı gençlerden iptida zerafetperveran-ı kibarzadegana ve

725 Robert P. Finn, The Early Turkish Novel, 1872-1900 (Istanbul: The Press, 1984), 16. 726 Moran, Türk Romanına Eleştirel Bir Bakış 1, 28-31; Finn, The Early Turkish Novel, 17-18.

230

sonraları hal ve vakitleri ikinci derecede bulunan rical evladının kabiliyetlerine sirayet eden alafrangalık illetine...”).727

Like these authors, Kadriye used her writing to offer a critique of her own society. Unlike these male novelists, however, she aimed her critique of over-Westernization mostly at the female members of society.728 In this sense, Kadriye’s book had more in common with the critiques that Ottoman female intellectuals advanced in the women’s journals of the late 19th and early 20th century Ottoman Empire against the upper-class alafranga women of Ottoman society.729 Moreover, while the authors cited above were writing in Istanbul in the last quarter of the 19th century and were thus subject to the censorship of the Abdülhamid regime Kadriye, writing in British-occupied Egypt, could be much more direct in her criticisms.

Nevertheless, Kadriye did not simply criticize the society in which she lived. Her works also proposed solutions to the problems the Ottoman Empire and the Muslim world in general faced. In this sense, she was arguably influenced by the “advice literature,” or nasihatname genre, which had a prominent place in the Ottoman literary tradition. A brief description of this genre will show how certain of Kadriye’s works dovetailed with it.

Nasihatnames were the Ottoman versions of the Arabic and Persian nasihat al-muluk

(“counsel for rulers”) literature,730 which had an important place in the Islamic literary

727 Recaizade Mahmut Ekrem, Araba Sevdası, (Istanbul: İnkilap Kitabevi, 1985), 140. 728 See Deniz Kandiyoti “Slave Girls, Temptresses, and Comrades: Images of Women in the Turkish Novel,” Feminist Issues (Spring 1988): 38, 41-42. 729 Elizabeth Brown Frierson, “Unimagined Communities: State, Press, and Gender in the Hamidian Era,” unpublished PhD Dissertation, Princeton University 1996, 80-81; Ayfer Karakaya-Stump, “Debating Progress in a ‘Serious Newspaper for Muslim Women’: The Periodical ‘Kadın’ of the Post-Revolutionary Salonica, 1908-1909,” British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 30, No. 2. (Nov. 2003): 173-174. 730 C.E Bosworth, “Naṣīḥat al Mulūk,” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd Ed, accessed 18 March 2020, https://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam-2/nasihat-al-muluk-COM_0850.

231

tradition.731 These works were written in order to provide the rulers and the statesmen with necessary guidance on a variety of subjects including statecraft, military issues and diplomacy.732

They could also have a more didactic purpose in directing the rulers in their daily affairs.733 One of the most important themes in the nasihat al-muluk genre was that of justice, dispensed by an absolute ruler, who had to rule by the sharia.734 In addition, another common feature of the

Islamic nasihat al-muluk genre was the use of various literary references, such as allusions to the

Qur’ān, the hadith, and stories of historical or legendary figures.735 Using these literary and historical allusions, the authors constructed an idealized past that served as a model for the current ruler. Ottoman nasihatnames also put a strong emphasis on the absolute power of the sultan and the importance of justice for the running of the state. They differed from their Arabic and Persian counterparts, however, in referencing Ottoman bureaucratic documents in order to make sense of the changes the authors were witnessing in the Ottoman Empire, while emphasizing the idea of a “golden age” to which the current ruler should aspire.736

This idea of a “golden age” brings with it the concept of a “decline,” and these two inter- related concepts form one of the most important themes that Kadriye’s works share with

Ottoman advice literature. Modern scholarship has shown that the idea of an “Ottoman decline” was at least partly based on the Ottoman nasihatname literature. Cemal Kafadar, has

731 The use of the word “Islamic” to describe these works has been disputed in the literature but it will be used here for the sake of analysis. See L.Marlow, “Surveying Recent Literature on the Arabic and Persian Mirrors for Princes Genre,” History Compass, Vol 7 No:2 (2009), 528. 732 C.E Bosworth, “Naṣīḥat al Mulūk,” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd Ed. 733 İskender Pala, “Nasihatname,” Türk Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, accessed 26 May 2020, https://www.islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/nasihatname. 734 C.E Bosworth, “Nasihat al Mulük,” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd Ed. 735 L.Marlow, “Surveying Recent Literature,” 530. 736 Cornell Fleischer, “From Şeyhzade Korkud to Mustafa Âli: Cultural Origins of the Ottoman Nasihatname,” IIIrd Congress on the Social and Economic , (Princeton, 1983), 67; Douglas A. Howard, “Genre and Myth in the Ottoman Advice for Kings Literature” in The Early Modern Ottomans: Remapping the Empire eds. Virginia H.Aksan and Daniel Goffman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 159-160; Heather Ferguson, “Genres of Power: Constructing a Discourse of Decline in Ottoman Nasihatname,” Osmanlı Araştırmaları (Journal of Ottoman Studies), Vol 35 (2010), 94-95.

232

demonstrated that the advocates of the decline theory utilized Ottoman literary products, such as nasihatnames, in their construction of the idea of an Ottoman decline.737 The nasihatname authors consctructed a golden age when the Ottoman Empire was at its zenith politically, militarily, economically, and culturally. Once the Empire deviated from the principles that made this golden age possible, however, it started to encounter numerous problems especially vis-à-vis the European powers. As Matthew Kelly rightly points out, the decline paradigm was based on the idealization of Ottoman institutions and this ideal state of the Ottoman Empire was provided by the nasihatname authors in their depiction of the “golden age.”738 Like the nasihatname authors, Kadriye emphasized a golden age, from which the Ottoman Empire and the wider

Muslim world had distanced themselves, leading to their “downfall.”

Echoing the advice literature genre, Kadriye perceived the dire circumstances of the

Ottoman Empire and the Muslim world in general as a “decline” of Ottoman and, in a more general sense, “Eastern” civilization. In fact, in the second volume of Muhadderat-ı İslam,

Kadriye specifically referenced the famous 17th -century Ottoman intellectual Katib Çelebi

(1609-1657) on the issue of the decline of empires. According to Kadriye, Katib Çelebi believed that once statesmen who gained their reputation through war and conquests left their old lifestyles and gave themselves over to pleasure, then the states they were ruling over fell into ruin.739 Like Katib Çelebi, Kadriye identified internal causes for this “decline,” arguing that the

“East” had done everything it could to destroy its happiness and prosperity with its own hands.740

Like the nasihatnames, what Kadriye proposed for the East was to copy the “golden age” (asr-ı

737 Cemal Kafadar, “The Myth of the Golden Age: Ottoman Historical Consciousness in the Post-Suleymanic Era” in Süleyman the Second [sic] and His Time, eds. Halil Inalcik and Cemal Kafadar (Istanbul: Isis Press, 1993), 33-39. 738 Matthew Kelly, “The Fall of Decline: The Decline Paradigm and Its Lessons,” IBLA: Revue de l’Institut des Belles Letters Arabes, 201, no.1 (2008): 106. 739 Hüseyin, Büyük İslam Kadınları, 201-202. 740 Ibid., 11.

233

saadet).741 For Kadriye, however, the “golden age” was the time of the Prophet Muhammad and his companions, whereas the early modern Ottoman nasihatnames referred to Süleyman I’s or

Mehmed II’s reign in their conceptualization of the same idea.

The solutions that Kadriye proposed for the advancement of her society are summarized in two main works. The first of these, Mehasin-i Hayat (“Beautiful Virtues of Life”), was published in Cairo in 1909, the same year as Mühim Bir Gece. In the aftermath of the Young

Turk Revolution, hopes for a better future for the Ottoman Empire were widespread. In Mehasin- i Hayat, Kadriye wrote about numerous topics that she deemed important for the development of individuals and that would in turn lead to the development of the society. The book analyzed socio-political concepts, such as “vatan” (nation), “terakki” (progress), “adalet” (justice), and

“ittihad” (unity) and more personal ones, such as “aile” (family), “merhamet (compassion), and

“hürmet” (respect). All these concepts, it should be emphasized, were analyzed from the point of view of the individual.

Mehasin-i Hayat can be interpreted in a number of ways. It can be read as a continuation of the advice literature of the Ottoman literary tradition, albeit with the major difference that while the nasihatnames mainly addressed rulers and princes, Kadriye’s advice was directed at the common individual, especially of the younger generation, who would grow up to make the society better and the body politic stronger. In this sense, the book can also be contextualized as a part of the material that started to appear throughout the Ottoman Empire, including Egypt, that sought to educate people on modern domestic life and new gender roles at a time when the

Ottoman and Egyptian societies were going through major changes.742 As Alan Duben and Cem

Behar demonstrate for Istanbul and Beth Baron argues for Egypt, one of the most important

741 Ibid. 742 Baron, The Women’s Awakening, 144-146; Baron, Egypt as a Woman, 22, 31-39; Badran, Feminists, Islam, and Nation, 4-10.

234

changes in the late 19th- and early 20th century -Ottoman Empire and Egypt was the fact that great households were giving way to nuclear families formed according to the bourgeois ideals of the time.743 This shift brought increased importance to the education of women, who were seen as the “bearers and rearers of future citizens,”744 who would then work for the further advancement of the nation. For this reason, the late 19th- and early 20th -century Ottoman and Egyptian female intellectuals produced works aimed at teaching women and children how to become patriotic members of the society.745

Kadriye’s Mehasin-i Hayat should be interpreted within this context. According to her, the civilized nations reached their current level of prosperity and happiness through education and disciplining of the soul (ta’lim ve terbiye-i ruhiyeleriyle na’il-i refah ve sa’adet olmus).

Since she also wanted her “noble nation” (kavm-i necibimin) to reach this high level of prosperity and happiness, Kadriye put forth that she combined useful materials that she had come across on morality and social life and had compiled them in this book. Even though she states that she based her book on a work by a French moralist named Charles Wagner that had been translated into Ottoman Turkish as “Hem Büyüklere Hem Küçüklere (“For Both the Adults and the Children”),746 she also argues that she herself had made numerous additions on morality and social life while composing this work, taking “our national morals and customs” into consideration (ahlak ve a’dat-i milliyemizi nazar-i ehemmiyete alarak).747 She was particularly concerned with teaching children how to be virtuous beings, with the hope that they could

743 Alan Duben and Cem Behar, Istanbul Households: Marriage, Family, and Fertility, 1880-1940 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 47-49; Baron, Egypt as a Woman, 33. 744 Baron, Egypt as a Woman, 36. 745 Elizabeth B. Frierson, “Women in Late Ottoman Intellectual History,” in Late Ottoman Society: the Intellectual Legacy ed. Ozdalga (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2005), 143; Baron, The Women’s Awakening, 40-41. 746 Charles Wagner, Pour les petits et les grands: Causeries sur la vie et la manière d s’en servir (Paris: 1907) . 747 Hüseyin, Mehasin-i Hayat, 4.

235

serve their vatan (nation) in the future.748 She therefore wrote the book in a simple language in the hope that it would reach a wider audience and be taught in schools.749

Like many intellectuals in Istanbul and Cairo in the early 20th century, Kadriye perceived

“home” to be the key site for the creation of the nation’s future success.750 In the section titled

Menzil (“Home”) she described “home” as the most important place for the children to learn hubb-i vatan, or “love of the nation,”751 a point she reiterated in the section on “family.” Kadriye strongly emphasized the role of the “mother” in teaching the children this important concept.

(“İnsan hubb-i vatan derslerini en evvel anasının kucağında iken öğrenir. Demek oluyor ki vatan aile teşkiliyle vücuda geliyor).752 In the section titled “Vatan” (Nation), she argued that the

“nation” was in a sense one big family in which people had the responsibility to take care of each other (Vatan cesîm bir aile gibidir. İnsan yekdiğerini ihvân nazarıyla telakki etmelidir).753 The family ideal that Kadriye was advocating, however, came from a conservative social order. At various points in the book, for instance, she emphasized the importance of the children being obedient to their elders, arguing that the basis of unity was obedience.754 She promoted the same social hierarchy that the nasihatname literature and the early 20th-century Islamist literature presented as the means of ensuring the well being of the body politic.

Kadriye also argued for a balance between “tradition” and “progress” for the society to reach the same level of prosperity that the “Western” nations had attained. In the section Terakki

(“Progress”), Kadriye argued that the advancement of the nation should be based on “tradition”

748 Ibid. 749 Ibid., 5-7. 750 Lisa Pollard, Nurturing the Nation: The Family Politics of Modernizing, Colonizing, and Liberating Egypt, 1805- 1923 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005), 5-11. 751 Hüseyin, Mehasin-i Hayat., 22-23. 752 Ibid.,26. 753 Ibid.,48-49. 754 Ibid., 27

236

(görenek).755 Even at this early stage of her literary career, she hinted at the importance of imitating historical figures to achieve success, a concept that she would fully develop later on in her Muhadderat.756 Nevertheless, Kadriye also appreciated the scientific advancements of the day and cautioned against being too tied to traditions, which would curtail the efforts of progress

(Göreneği makbul bir suretde istikbale çalışmalıdır. Aksi halinde görenek, terakkiyat-ı insaniye için muzır bir şey kalır”).757 In these views, she followed the Islamic reformists, such as

Muḥammad Abduh and Rashīd Ridā, who played an important role in intellectual circles in

Egypt, who tried to create a new form of reconciliation between Islam and modernity.

Two years after Mehasin-i Hayat, in 1911, Kadriye published Nelerim (Concerns of

Mine), a collection of essays, written in a relatively simple Ottoman Turkish, on a number of topics that Kadriye found to be important. Kadriye structured the book in such a way that each section was titled as a question, to which the essay provided an answer. The impact of Young

Turk Revolution could be felt in Nelerim, as in Mühim Bir Gece and Mehasin-i Hayat. The first section, tellingly, was Hürriyet Nedir? (“What is Freedom?”). Here, Kadriye emphasized the importance of freedom for the happiness of the people, while also labeling it as the basis of the elevation of the nation (ve itila-yı milliyenin esasıdır).758 Kadriye depicted freedom as a loud call that would awaken nations under the spell of oppression, a clear allusion to the Abdülhamid regime.759 In the following essay, Yurt Nedir? (“What is Homeland?”), Kadriye argued that homeland was a “school for patriotism.” (Yurt, bir mekteb-i vatanperveridir).760 The word yurt in

Turkish can be translated as either “homeland” or “home,” and thus Kadriye implies that “home”

755 Hüseyin, Mehasin-i Hayat, 50-51. 756 Ibid.,81. 757 Ibid., 53. 758 Kadriye Hüseyin, Nelerim (Cairo: Osmanli Matbaası, 1329 [1911]), 4. 759 Ibid., 7. 760 Ibid., 11.

237

was the appropriate place to teach children patriotism, an idea advanced earlier in Mehasin-i

Hayat. Later in the book, she praised another concept that was important for the Revolution of

1908, namely equality, which she described as the basis of prosperity and happiness of humankind.761

In addition to these ideals, Kadriye tackled more practical concepts that she believed were necessary for the progress of both individuals and the nation as a whole. As in Mehasin-i

Hayat, she emphasized the importance of hard work. In a section entitled Vakit Nedir? (“What is

Time?”), she cautioned against wasting time, stressing that it should be spent in a productive manner.762 Similarly, at one point in the essay Saadet Nedir? (“What is Happiness?”), Kadriye described it simply as working.763 According to Kadriye, work was necessary for the nation to achieve progress, another concept that she took up in the book. While advancing her views on custom (adet), she called it a hindrance to progress (mani-i terraki), as well as an enemy of freedom (hürriyetin düşmanı).764 In sum, she seemed to favor the abandonment of old habits in favor of progress although she was also realistic about the durability of customs and traditions, arguing that they could not be left behind by education or through upbringing.765 Yet, her views on modernity were somewhat ambivalent. In the section on “Civilization” (Medeniyet), meaning modern Western civilization, Kadriye neither praised it fully nor condemned it wholesale. Even though she had positive feelings about the idea overall, Kadriye occasionally described it in negative terms at times.766 The views that Kadriye advanced in Nelerim about the balance between progress and tradition, as well as her ambivalence towards modernity, were consistent

761 Ibid., 15-17. 762 Ibid., 48. 763 Ibid., 58. 764 Ibid., 52. 765 Ibid., 52-53. 766 Ibid., 54-56.

238

with what she wrote in Mehasin-i Hayat and Muhadderat-ı İslam. All in all, Kadriye Hüseyin was an “Ottoman-Egyptian” literary figure who was in tune with the cultural developments of her time and who, through her works, contributed to the wider Ottoman intellectual milieu of her time.

Kadriye Hüseyin as an Ottoman-Egyptian Female Intellectual

This last part of the analysis will analyze Kadriye as a female intellectual, whose works advocated the advancement of the status of Muslim women. This section will focus on Kadriye’s

Muhadderat-ı İslam and analyze it as a prominent example of the trend of using biographies of famous women from the past to advocate a better place for women in the modern society.

Before going further, a few words on the status of women in 19th century Ottoman

Empire are necessary. Until new schools were established and the literacy rate for women increased, a woman’s status in the Ottoman Empire depended mostly on her reproductive and productive capacity at home, as well as her ability to guard her “honor” in the eyes of the outside world.767 The increase in women’s literacy from the Tanzimat onwards, as a result of the emergence of new Ottoman schools for girls and for women teachers, as well as the introduction of new , made maintaining gender segregation more difficult and led to major changes in the sociocultural position of Ottoman women as they started to take a more active part in public life.768 One way for the women to assert themselves in the public sphere was through women’s magazines, where women from different social classes wrote and debated issues of gender and modernity in addition to sharing information on more “practical” topics such as

767 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 68-69. 768 Serpil Çakır, Osmanlı Kadın Hareketi (Istanbul: Yayınları 2016 [1993]), 59; Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 117-123. 177-178.

239

childrearing and household management.769 Initially, it was not easy for the Muslim women to write for these publications under their own names since they feared compromising their honor.

They therefore had to present themselves in a “desexualized” manner in order to complement their honor with high achievement. The famous Ottoman novelist Fatma Aliye was one of the first Muslim women to write under her own name and “appeared in public” at the end of the 19th century, getting considerable amount of help from Ahmed Mithad.770 Like Fatma Aliye and other upper-class “Europeanized” Ottoman women, Kadriye was operating under traditional Islamic gender segregation rules.771

Publishing biographies of famous historical women in the women’s magazines was one way for Ottoman female intellectuals to assert themselves in public and debate issues that related to the status of Ottoman women. Frierson, for instance, states that Fatma Aliye “presented biographies of the wives of the prophet and other prominent Muslim women, which were often serialized during Ramadan in various family magazines, in keeping with the recasting of Muslim historical figures as precursors to an essentially Muslim modernity that figured in the salafiyya movement.”772 Like Kadriye, Fatma Aliye believed that Muslim women did not need to take

Western women as examples because they had their own models in the Islamic history.773

Kadriye definitely perceived Fatma Aliye as a role model for herself. It would be entirely logical, therefore, to argue that Kadriye may have been influenced by these developments within the

Ottoman press as well in her writing on the famous women from the Islamic history. Research on

769 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 178, Çakır, Osmanlı Kadın Hareketi, 59-86; Frierson, “Unimagined Communities,” 63-64, 71; Karakaya-Stump, “Debating Progress,” 163. 770 Carter Vaughn Findley, “La soumise, la subversive: Fatma Aliye, romancière et féministe,” Turcica 27 (1995): 175; Carter Vaughn Findley, “Fatma Aliye: First Ottoman Woman Novelist, Pioneer Feminist,” (Unpublished Article, 18 March 1993); Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 178, 184; Karakaya-Stump, “Debating Progress,” 173-174. 771 Findley, Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity, 185. 772 Frierson, “Women in Late Ottoman Intellectual History,” 150. 773 Frierson, “Unimagined Communities,” 118.

240

this topic, however, needs to be developed further and therefore, this chapter will limit itself to the same intellectual trend that played a major part in Egypt at the beginning of the 20th century and that Kadriye emulated in her own works.

As in Istanbul, publishing of biographies of famous women was an important intellectual practice in Egypt in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. In her book, May Her Likes Be

Multiplied, Marilyn Booth analyzes this practice in detail and argues that the writing of biographies in modern Egypt was a gendered discourse of exemplarity through which women examined their positions in society and debated ideas on social change that would affect their lives.774 According to Booth, “biography was one means by which women might assert subject positions within the nationalist collectivity, writing themselves into life narratives that represented the sorts of subject positions they envisioned for themselves and their daughters.”775

Booth notes that both male and female intellectuals in Egypt were looking for a way to bring together cultural authenticity and the principles of modernity. These biographies were a way to articulate the idea of a “new woman” against the colonizing British while also upholding the cultural values of the traditional ideals of womanhood.776 These intellectuals sought to demonstrate that Islamic women in the past could assert themselves in their own lives.777

Marilyn Booth’s work provides a background useful for analyzing Kadriye’s

Muhadderat-ı İslam. In the first volume of the book, published in 1913, Kadriye narrated the stories of Khadīja and ‘Ā’isha, two wives of the Prophet Muhammad; Abbase, the daughter of famous Abbasid caliph Hārūn al-Rashīd; and the late Ayyubid ruler Shajarat al-Durr. The second volume contains the life stories of Muhammad’s daughter Fatima, the famous Muslim woman

774 Booth, May Her Likes Be Multiplied, xii-xv. 775 Ibid., xiv. 776 Ibid., xxv-xxvi. 777 Ibid.

241

poet al-Khansa, Hārūn al-Rashīd’s wife Zubayda, and the 8th century Basran mystic and Sufi

Rāb‘ia al-‘Adawiyya.778 Kadriye’s introduction invokes the “exemplarity” that Booth describes:

"our past," she declares, is full of great people, and she hopes that their lives can be examples for her contemporaries. Inspired by these exemplary biographies, moreover, the public would work towards restoring the glory of the East.779

Although Kadriye’s primary audience was women, she also aimed her views at people in positions of authority who, she argued, should do more to improve the status of women. She lamented the fact that “Eastern women” had not received enough attention in the scholarship on the history of Muslim societies. More importantly, she argued that since women in the contemporary “East” did not hold public roles, most readers assumed, incorrectly, that this had always been the case in Islamic history.780 More generally, Muslim societies were now fighting for their lives, as the recent Balkan Wars had made clear, and improving the status of women was an integral par of this fight. If Muslim women could achieve the same level of prominence as the women of Muslim “golden age,” then Muslim societies might be able to stop their rapid decline.781 The more that modern Muslims learned about the great women of Islamic history, the stronger Muslim societies’ claim to civilization would actually be.782

Kadriye’s Muhadderat repeatedly employed certain tropes in its presentation of exemplary Muslim women. One of the most important was that all these women were educated and intelligent, possessing intellectual and spiritual knowledge in addition to being highly skilled in literary arts. In her biography of the Prophet Muhammad’s wife ‘Ā’isha, for instance, Kadriye

778 For Rabia al-Badawiyya see Hülya Küçük, “Rabia el-Adeviyye,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, accessed April 5, 2020 https://islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/rabia-el-adeviyye 779 Hüseyin, Büyük İslam Kadınları, 10-11. 780 Ibid.,114. 781 Ibid., 115. 782 Ibid., 129.

242

stresses that ‘Ā’isha was an intelligent and educated woman, who transmitted ḥadīths.783

According to Kadriye, after Muhammad's death, ‘Ā’isha led a life of learning, becoming one of the most important Islamic jurisprudents (sing. faqīh) of her time.784 Kadriye also argued that

‘Ā’isha was a skilled poet.785 Modern scholarship corroborates Kadriye’s claims.786

In the second part of the book, Kadriye made similar arguments about Muhammad’s daughter Fāṭima, emphasizing her erudition and intelligence, as well her as knowledge of religious and historical matters,787 even though there is no conclusive historical proof of these claims.788 As for the Abbasid princess Abbase,789 Kadriye describes her as a poet who was so highly educated that she could be considered a scholar.790 In recounting the fictional love story between Abbase and Hārūn al-Rashīd’s vizier Ja’far al-Barmakī, drawn from the 1001 Nights,

Kadriye asserted that what made Ja’far fall in love with Abbase was the latter’s knowledge and skill in poetry.791 In this sense, Kadriye seemed to be advocating for education for women in the

Muslim world by demonstrating that educated women were common in Islamic history.

All of the women whose lives Kadriye presented demonstrated agency and strong will, even though they were operating in a male-dominated space and played mainly supporting roles.

In her life story of Khadīja, Muhammad’s first wife, Kadriye notes how, after she proposed

783 Ibid.,39-43. 784 Ibid.,58-59. 785 Ibid.,58. 786 Asma Afsaruddin, “‘Ā’isha bt. Abī Bakr,” Encyclopedia of Islam 3rd Edition; Asma Barlas, “Believing Women” in Islam: Unreading Patriarchal Interpretations of the Qur’ān (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2002), 45-46; Asma Sayeed, Women and the Transmission of Religious Knowledge in Islam (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 26-31; Aisha Geissinger, “‘Aisha bint Abi Bakr and her Contributions to the Formation of Islamic Tradition,” Religious Compass 5, no. 1 (2011): 39-44. 787 Hüseyin, Büyük İslam Kadınları, 145-146. 788 Verena Klemm, “Fāṭima bt. Muḥammad,” Encyclopedia of Islam 3rd Ed, accessed April 3, 2020, https://referenceworks-brillonline-com.proxy.lib.ohio-state.edu/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam-3/*-COM_27039; M. Yaşar Kandemir, “Fatima,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, accessed April 5, 2020, https://islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/fatima#1 789 For Abbase’s biography see Mustafa Fayda, “Abbase bint Mehdi,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, accessed April 5, 2020 https://islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/abbase-bint-mehdi 790 Hüseyin, Büyük İslam Kadınları, 78. 791 Ibid.,81.

243

marriage to him, she devoted her life to making the Prophet Muhammad happy and comfortable.

Nevertheless, Kadriye also described Khadīja as a successful businesswoman, who engaged in long-distance trade and who owned capital that she at one point lent to Muhammad when he was young for him to engage in commercial activities himself. More importantly, however, Kadriye strongly emphasizes the fact that Khadīja was one of the first people to believe in Muhammad and recounted a scene where Khadīja had dispelled Muhammad’s doubts when he was unsure about his mission.792

Kadriye also underlined the fact that men in positions of authority consulted with women in conducting their affairs. She described how the Ayyubid ruler al- al-Ṣalīḥ Najm al-Dīn

Ayyūb (r. 1240-49)793 encouraged Shajarat al-Durr to participate in state affairs since she was highly educated and knowledgable.794 When al-Malik al-Ṣalīḥ was away in Damascus, Shajarat al-Durr took care of state affairs in Egypt; after his death, she briefly ruled his entire empire.795

Similarly, Kadriye stated that Hārūn al-Rashīd consulted Zubayda before taking an important decision,796 while the Spanish Umayyad caliph al-Ḥakam II (r. 961-76) consulted his wife Amīra

Ṣabiḥa, who shared her husband’s duties in running the state.797

Moreover, Kadriye emphasized that these women served the “nation” by performing numerous acts of charity. She singles out the charitable works of ‘Ā’isha and Zubayda,798 while noting that Khadīja had used all her wealth and influence in order to advance the cause of

792 Ibid., 11-30. 793 D.S Richards, “al-Malik al-Ṣāliḥ Najm al-Dīn Ayyūb,” Encyclopedia of Islam 2nd Ed; Bahattin Kök, “el- Melikü’s-Salih, Eyyüb,” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi, accessed April 5, 2020 https://islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/el-melikus-salih-eyyub. 794 Hüseyin, Büyük İslam Kadınları.,100. 795 Ibid., 110-114. 796 Ibid., 210. 797 Ibid.,233-237. 798 Ibid., 43, 210-213

244

Islam.799 These remarks linked these historical women to the contemporary women, including

Kadriye’s own relatives, who had performed acts of charity during the Balkan Wars. Such acts were one of the primary ways that women in Egypt had an influence in the public sphere.

With the poet al-Khansa (d. ca. 646 C.E.), Kadriye goes beyond charitable work to patriotic martyrdom. After drawing attention to her literary skills, Kadriye narrated a story of how al-Khansa worked for the “religion” and “nation” by converting to Islam and bringing up patriotic sons who then went on to serve the nation and died in the process.800 She did not grieve for her sons, however, but was proud of what they had done.801 Here, the emphasis on the importance of women in raising the next generation of patriots is difficult to miss. In fact,

Kadriye made her point more explicit by interjecting her narrative with her thoughts on the importance of studying Japan as an example of progress. Kadriye noted noted the Japanese women wanted to participate in the 1905 war against Russia, and that their zeal was exactly the main reason why Japan had advanced as a nation. According to Kadriye, Japanese women played instilled in their children a love for the nation, something that a Muslim woman like al-Khansa also had done.802

Muhadderat-ı İslam reveals Kadriye as not simply a pro-Ottoman patriot but also a feminist intellectual who used the biographical dictionary format to promote the advancement of women. Like the writers examined by Booth, she presented famous women from Islamic history as exemplary figures whom contemporary women in the Ottoman Empire and Egypt should emulate. In this sense, she was once again following literary currents in Istanbul as well as in

799 Ibid., 28. 800 Ibid.,189. 801 Ibid. 802 Ibid.,197.

245

Egypt, underlining the fact that she was a literary figure who straddled the Ottoman and Egyptian intellectual worlds.

Conclusion

Kadriye Hüseyin, is a largely forgotten figure who, however, functioned as an important

Ottoman-Egyptian intellectual who was very much a part of cultural currents in Egypt and the wider Ottoman world at the turn of the 20th century. Like the intellectuals examined in previous chapters, she was inspired by the 1908 Young Turk Revolutino and the disastrous Balkan Wars of 1912-13 to compose works that proposed solutions for the Ottoman Empire and the wider

“Eastern” world. Her efforts were influenced by Ottoman literary traditions such as the post-

Tanzimat novels and the “advice literature” genre, and she used them to offer a critique of

Islamic societies while suggesting ways for these societies to reach the level of “civilized” nations. Her two-volume biographical compilation used the lives of famous women in Islamic history to advocated for the advancement of women’s status in the Ottoman Empire and Egypt.

In all her publications, she followed in the footsteps of Ottoman and Egyptian intellectuals of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, underlining her place within the Ottoman and Egyptian cultural worlds.

246

Conclusion

On 17 November 2019, a new historical television series called “Kingdoms of Fire” aired on the famous American videoservice provider Netflix. Produced by an Emirati company, the fourteen-episode show was about the Ottoman Empire’s conquest of Egypt in 1517. The show portrayed the Ottoman sultan Selim I as a villain and “show[ed] the dark side of the empire that ruled Egypt since 1517” according to the journalist Salwa Samir.803 One of the consultants on the series, Mohamed Sabri al-Dali, a professor of history at the University of in Cairo, is an anti-Ottoman Egyptian nationalist. A year earlier, he had called on the local authorities in Cairo to remove the names of the Ottoman sultans from the streets of the Egyptian capital. In a published report, al-Dali described Selim I as “the first colonizer” of Egypt, arguing, “The

Ottomans made catastrophes during their five centuries of presence in our country.” “They left us a dastardly legacy,” he continued, “that turns them into criminals, not heroes who deserve to be glorified.”804 As a result, Sultan Selim I’s name was removed from a street in Cairo’s al-

Zaytun district.805 Meanwhile, riding the popularity of “Kingdoms of Fire,” producers considered making another series about Mehmed Ali Pasha, who would be portrayed as a great modernizer who tried to make Egypt independent of the Ottoman Empire.806

These examples point to the fact that the process of “forgetting Egypt’s Ottoman past” or rewriting it in a negative light continues to have an influence not only among the general public

803 Salwa Samir, “Why This TV Series Causes High Drama between Cairo, Ankara,” al-Monitor, 27 November 2019, https://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/originals/2019/11/kingdoms-of-fire-creates-tensions-egypt-turkey.html, accessed 21 May 2020. 804 Amr Emam, “Cairo Sheds Ottoman-era Street Names amid Egypt-Turkey Crisis,” The Arab Weekly, 18 February 2018, https://thearabweekly.com/cairo-sheds-ottoman-era-street-names-amid-egypt-turkey-crisis, accessed 21 May 2020. 805 Basheer Nafi, “How Egyptian Despots Are Defiling History,” Middle East Eye, 18 March 2018, https://www.middleeasteye.net/opinion/how-egyptian-despots-are-defiling-history, accessed 21 May 2020. 806 Ahmed Fouad, “Last Ottoman Casts Shadow on Current Turco-Egyptian Culture War,” al-Monitor, 20 January 2020, https://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/originals/2020/01/egypt-turkish-cultural-war-finds-its-new-hero- in-19th-century.html, accessed 21 May 2020.

247

but within academic circles as well. This narrative originated in the early 20th century and depicted the Ottoman background of Egypt as either insignificant or downright “foreign” and oppressive. In this context, the 19th century is portrayed as a time when Egypt emerged as an independent political entity under Mehmed Ali and steadily marched towards becoming a nation- state. The Ottoman context was usually nowhere to be found in this story. Even though this historical narrative has been challenged by historians who situated the history of 19th century

Egypt within its Ottoman context, there has not been a full-length study of Egypt’s

“Ottomanness” between the mid-19th and the early 20th century. In this dissertation, I have tried to fill this gap in the literature with a counter-narrative that “remembers” Egypt’s Ottoman past.

Using both Arabic and Ottoman Turkish sources, I demonstrated that Ottoman cultural consciousness provided an important and relevant framework, within which the ruling and intellectual elite of this Ottoman province, as well as broader segments of the Egyptian society, operated between 1841 and 1914. Understanding the role that the Ottoman mentality played in

Egypt during this period allows us to have a more nuanced understanding of the history of modern Egypt, as well as the history of the late Ottoman Empire.

The dissertation used the distribution of Ottoman medals and orders to Egypt’s ruling elite to demonstrate the importance that Ottoman imperial culture had for this elite. While the

Ottoman sultans and governments utilized Ottoman orders as a way to bolster their authority in

Egypt, the province’s ruling and intellectual elite came to see these objects as important symbols of prestige and actively tried to acquire them for themselves and for their families, underlining the continuing prevalence of Ottoman cultural consciousness in Egypt

For the next three chapters, I took three important events that the Ottoman Empire went through in the late-19th and early-20th centuries as case studies to analyze the existence of

248

Ottoman mentality for different strata of Egyptian society. First, I focused on the Ottoman-Greek

War of 1897, in which the Ottomans scored a military victory, which was a rare occurrence at this time. The chapter argued that this war led to a major upsurge of Ottoman consciousness in

Egypt. The Arabic-speaking intellectuals in the province reported on the war developments extensively and displayed their sense of solidarity with the Empire as well as their joy at the outcome of the war. Moreover, these intellectuals also perceived the Ottoman-Greek War through the lens of British imperialism and utilized it to discursively resist the British invasion of

Egypt. Moving beyond the intellectuals, broader segments of the Egyptian population also displayed their Ottoman mentality through contributing to the aid collection efforts that were being organized for the Ottoman army. More importantly, these individuals, who came from different backgrounds, also “performed” their Ottoman mentality by writing to the Egyptian newspapers and demanding that the editors include their names in the list of people who made contributions to the donation collection campaigns.

The Young Turk Revolution of 1908 constituted the second case study that I used to examine the prevalence of Ottoman mentality in Egypt. I claimed that the Young Turk

Revolution and the restoration of the Ottoman constitution proved to be an “Ottoman moment” in Egypt. The Egyptian intelligentsia, similar to the intellectuals in the rest of the Empire, perceived of the Ottoman constitution as a panacea for the problems that the Ottoman Empire was facing at the time, and believed that the constitution would strengthen the Empire, enabling it to face the European powers more resolutely. This was particularly important for Egypt at this time because the intellectuals believed that a stronger Ottoman Empire would be in a better position to defend Egypt’s rights and finally put an end to the British occupation. Moreover, the restoration of the constitution in Istanbul also led to calls for a constitution to be implemented in

249

Egypt as well. Finally, the chapter demonstrated that the Empire-wide the 1908 boycott of

Austria-Hungarian goods was also implemented in Egypt, which was another occasion in which people from broader segments of the Egyptian society displayed and “performed” their

Ottomanness.

The last case study that I chose to focus on was the Balkan Wars, which proved to be a catastrophic and traumatic defeat for the Empire. Once again, at this time of a great crisis, the

Ottoman-Egyptian ruling elite as well as the members of the Egyptian intelligentsia displayed their sense of solidarity with the Empire. The members of the khedivial family, both men and women, participated in the Ottoman war efforts, either through organizing aid collection campaigns, building orphanages in Istanbul for the refugees coming in from the Balkans, or even personally participating in the war itself. Meanwhile, the Arabic-speaking intellectuals of the province responded to the defeats that the Ottomans suffered with dismay while they also contributed to the intellectual debates on the future of the Empire that were going on within the

Ottoman cultural world. Nevertheless, the Balkan Wars also proved to be a major turning point where the ruling and intellectual elite of the province started to emphasize a more distinct

Egyptian identity. Once again, wider segments of the Egyptian population also continued to display a sense of solidarity with the Empire through joining the donation campaigns that were being organized by the members of the khedivial family. In connection with these efforts, the chapter also concentrated on the role that the Egyptian Red Crescent played in the Balkan Wars and argued that the support that the Egyptian Red Crescent had provided to the Ottomans at this time can be read as another manifestation of Ottoman mentality.

Finally, the dissertation once again went back to the court in Egypt and brought to light a largely forgotten figure of the khedivial family, Kadriye Hüseyin. Kadriye Hüseyin was an

250

Ottoman-Egyptian female intellectual, who was influenced by and contributed extensively to the

Ottoman cultural world, while also being nurtured by intellectual currents that were prevalent in

Istanbul and Cairo at the time. Producing her works in Ottoman Turkish, Kadriye considered herself to be an “Ottoman.” Kadriye provided incisive analysis for the condition, in which the

Ottoman Empire and the wider Eastern world found themselves. While doing so, she was influenced by the Ottoman literary traditions as well as the intellectual currents that were popular among the Ottoman intellectuals at the time. Moreover, Kadriye concerned herself to a great extent with the advancement of the women’s status in the Ottoman Empire and Egypt. Following the footsteps of Ottoman and Egyptian female intellectuals of this period, Kadriye wrote biographies of famous women in Islamic history as a way to advocate for the improvement of women’s conditions in the “Eastern” societies. In this sense, Kadriye encapsulates the arguments that I presented in this dissertation and can be considered as a perfect example of Ottoman cultural consciousness that continued to play a crucial role in Egypt until the first decades of the

20th century.

251

Bibliography

Primary Sources

Archival Materials

Başbakanlık Osmanlı Arşivi (Prime Ministry Ottoman Archives), Istanbul, Turkey

Bab-ı Ali Evrak Odası Evrakı [BEO] Dahiliye Nezareti Mütenevvi Evrakı [DH.MTV] Dahiliye Nezareti Siyasi Kısım Evrakı [DH.SYS] İrade Dahiliye [İ.DH] İrade -i Mümtaze Mısır [İ.MTZ.(05)] İrade Eyalet-i Mümtaze Mısır Taltifatı [İ.MTZ.(05).TAL] İrade Mabeyn-i Hümayun [İ.MBH] İrade Taltifat [İ.TAL] Mabeyn-İrade [MB.İ] Sadaret Eyalet-i Mümtaze Mısır Evrakı [A.MTZ. (05)] Yıldız Esas Evrakı [Y.EE] Yıldız Mütenevvi Maruzat Evrakı [Y.MTV] Yıldız Perakende Evrakı Arzuhal Jurnal [Y.PRK.AZJ] Yıldız Perakende Evrakı Başkitabet Dairesi Maruzatı [Y.PRK.BŞK] Yıldız Perakende Evrakı Müfettişlikler ve Komiserlikler Tahriratı [Y.PRK.MK] Yıldız Sadaret Hususi Maruzat Evrakı [Y.A HUS] Yıldız Sadaret Resmi Maruzat Evrakı [Y.A RES]

The National Archives, Kew, United Kingdom

FO 78/4863- Lord Cromer, Egypt. Diplomatic Despatches

Newspapers

Abū Naẓẓāra (Paris) al-Ahrām (Alexandria) al-Hilāl (Cairo) al-Manār (Cairo) al-Mu’ayyad (Cairo) al-Muqtaṭaf (Cairo)

Published Primary Sources

‘Alī Fahmi Kāmil, Muṣṭafā Kāmil Bāshā fī 34 Rabi‘ān. 9 Vol. Cairo: Maṭba‘at al-Liwā’, 1908-1910. al-Bustānī, Yūsuf. Tārīkh ḥarb al-Balqān al-ūla bayn al-dawla al-‘aliyya wa al-Ittihād al-Balqānī. Cairo: Matba’at al-Hilāl, 1913. Farīd, Muḥammad Tārīkh al-Dawla al-‘Aliyya al-‘Uthmāniyya. Cairo: Maṭba’at al-Taqaddum, 1912.

252

______. Awrāq Muḥammad Farīd, Vol 1: Muḏakkirātī ba‘d al-hijra (1904-1919). Cairo: Markaz wathā’iq wa tārīkh Miṣr al-mu‘āsir, 1978. Hüseyin, Kadriye, Mehasin-i Hayat. Cairo: Osmanli Matbaası, 1327 [1909-1910]. ______. Büyük İslam Kadınları (Muhadderat-ı İslam). İstanbul: Bedir Yayınevi, 1982. ______. Nelerim. Cairo: Osmanli Matbaası, 1329 [1911]. ______. Temevvücat-ı Efkar. Cairo: Maarif Matbaası, 1330 [1911-1912]. Kāmil, Muṣṭafā. Awrāq Muṣṭafā Kāmil: Al-khuṭab. Cairo: al-Hay’ah al-Miṣriyya al-‘Āmmah lil Kitāb, 1984. ______. Awrāq Muṣṭafā Kāmil: Al-maqālāt. Cairo: al-Hay’ah al-Miṣriyya al-‘Āmmah lil Kitāb, 1986. ______. Kitāb al-mas’ala al-sharqiyya. Cairo: Matba’at al-Adab, 1898. Kampf, Leopold. Mühim Bir Gece. Translated by Kadriye Hüseyin. Cairo: Osmanlı Matbaası, 1909. ______. Am Vorabend: Drama in drei Akten. Berlin: Schuster & Loeffler, 1905. ______. Le grand soir: pièce en trois actes. Translated by Robert d’Humières. Paris: Imprimiere de l’illustration, 1908. ______. On The Eve: A Drama in Three Acts. Translated by Unknown. New York: Wilshire Book Company, 1907. Shafīq, Aḥmad. Mudhakkirātī fī niṣf qarn, 3 Vols. Cairo: al-Hay’ah al-Miṣriyya al-‘Āmmah lil Kitāb, 1994. Ṭannūs, Tawfīq. Tārīkh al-ḥarb al-balqāniyya, 1912-1913. Beirut: Jadāwil lil-nashr wa al-tawzī‘, 2013 [Alexandria: Maṭba‘at Jurjī Ghazūza, 1913].

Secondary Sources

Abdel-Nour, J. “al-Bustānī,” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd Ed. Accessed 23 May 2020. https://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam-2/al-bustani-SIM_8434. Abu-Manneh, Butrus. “Arab-Ottomanists’ Reactions to the Young Turk Revolution.” In Late Ottoman Palestine: The Period of Young Turk Rule, edited by Yuval Ben-Bassat and Eyal Ginio, 145-164. London: I.B Tauris, 2011. Adıyeke, Ayşe Nükhet. Osmanlı İmparatorluğu ve Girit Bunalımı (1896-1908). Ankara: Türk Tarih Kurumu, 2000. Afsaruddin, Asma. “‘Ā’isha bt. Abī Bakr.” Encyclopedia of Islam 3rd Ed. Accessed 26 May 2020. https://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam-3/aisha-bt-abi-bakr- COM_23459. Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism. Revised Edition. London: Verso, 2006. Andrea, Alfred. “Mentalities in History.” The Historian 53, no.3 (Spring 1991): 605-608. Artuk, İbrahim “Nişan.” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi. Accessed 27 June 2018. https://islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/nisan--madalya Ayalon, Ami. The Arabic Print Revolution: Cultural Production and Mass Readership. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016. ______. The Press in the Arab Middle East. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995. Badem, Canan. The Ottoman Crimean War (1853-1856). Leiden: Brill, 2010. Badran, Margot. Feminists, Islam, and Nation: Gender and the Making of Modern Egypt Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1995.

253

Barlas, Asma. “Believing Women” in Islam: Unreading Patriarchal Interpretations of the Qur’ān. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2002. Baron, Beth. “Mothers, Morality, and Nationalism in Pre-1919 Egypt.” In The Origins of Arab Nationalism, edited by Rashid Khalidi, Lisa Anderson, Muhammad Muslih, and Reeva S. Simon, 271-299. New York: Columbia University Press, 1991. ______. Egypt as a Woman: Nationalism, Gender, and Politics. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005. ______. The Women’s Awakening in Egypt: Culture, Society, and the Press. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994. Bayat, Mangol. Shi‘ism and the Constitutional Revolution of 1905-1909. New York: Oxford University Press, 1991. Bilge, Mustafa L. “Fuad.” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi. Accessed May 4, 2020. https://www.islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/fuad--kral Bloch, Marc. Les Rois thaumaturges. Étude sur le caractère surnaturel attribué à la puissance royale particulièrement en France et en Angleterre. Paris: Gallimard, 1983 [1924]. Blunt, Wilfrid Scawen. Secret History of the English Occupation of Egypt: Being a Personal Narrative of Events. London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1907. Booth, Marilyn. May Her Likes Be Multiplied; Biography and Gender Politics in Egypt. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001. Bosworth, C.E. “Naṣīḥat al Mulūk.” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd Ed. Accessed 24 May 2020. https://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam-2/nasihat-al-muluk- COM_0850 Burke, Peter. “Strengths and Weaknesses of the History of Mentalities.” History of European Ideas 7, no.5 (1986): 439-451. Caccamo, Francesco. “The Balkan Wars in the Italian Perspective.” In War and Nationalism: The Balkan Wars, 1912-1913, and Their Sociopolitical Implications, edited by M. Hakan Yavuz and Isa Blumi, 230-248. Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 2013. Çakır, Serpil. Osmanlı Kadın Hareketi. Istanbul: Metis Yayınları 2016 [1993]. Campos, Michelle U. Ottoman Brothers: Muslims, Christians, and Jews in Early Twentieth-Century Palestine. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2011. Casale, Giancarlo. The Ottoman Age of Exploration. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Çelik, Bilgin. Balkan İttifakı ve Osmanlı Diplomasisi. Istanbul: İstanbul Bilgi Üniversitesi Yayınları, 2019. Çetinkaya, Y.Doğan. 1908 Osmanlı Boykotu: Bir Toplumsal Hareketin Analizi.: İletişim Yayınları, 2004. Cioeta, Donald J. “Ottoman Censorship in Lebanon and Syria, 1876-1908.” International Journal of Middle East Studies10, no.2 (May, 1979): 167-186. Cohen, Abner. Two-Dimensional Man: An Essay on the Anthropology of Power and Symbolism in Complex Society. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1976. Cohen, Julia Phillips. Becoming Ottomans: Sephardi Jews and Imperial Citizenship in the Modern Era. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Cole, Juan R.I. Colonialism and Revolution in the Middle East: Social and Cultural Origins of Egypt’s ‘Urabi Movement. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993. ______. Napoleon’s Egypt: Invading the Middle East. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007. Coşkun, Betül. “Mısır Prensesi, Osmanlı Edibesi Kadriye Hüseyin Hanım.” Erdem: Journal of Humanities and Social Sciences, 63 (2012): 63-88.

254

Crabitès, Pierre. Ismail the Maligned Khedive. London: Routledge and Sons, 1933. Crecelius, Daniel. The Roots of Modern Egypt: A Study of the Regimes of ‘Ali Bey al-Kabir and Muhammad Bey Abu al-Dhahab, 1760-1775. Minneapolis: Bibliotheca Islamica, 1981. Cuno, Kenneth M. “Egypt to c.1919.” In The New Cambridge History of Islam Vol 5: The Islamic World in the Age of Western Dominance, edited by Francis Robinson, 79-106. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Darnton, Robert. The Great Cat Massacre and Other Episodes in French Cultural History. New York: Basic Books, 1984. Deringil, Selim. “Invention of Tradition as Public Image In the Late Ottoman Empire, 1808 to 1908.” Comparative Studies in Society and History 35, no.1 (Jan 1993): 3-29. ______. The Well Protected Domains: Ideology and the Legitimation of Power in the Ottoman Empire, 1876-1909. London: I.B Tauris, 1999. Di-Capua, Yoav. Gatekeepers of the Arab Past: Historians and History Writing in the Twentieth Century Egypt. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2009. Dodwell, Henry. The Founder of Modern Egypt: A Study of Muhammad Ali. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1931. Douin, George. L’Égypte de 1802 à 1804. Cairo: Société royale de géographie d’Égypte, publications specials, 1925. Duben, Alan and Cem Behar. Istanbul Households: Marriage, Family, and Fertility, 1880-1940. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991. Ekinci, Mehmet Uğur. “The Origins of the 1897 Ottoman-Greek War: A Diplomatic History.” Unpublished Master’s Thesis. Bilkent University, Ankara, 2006. Ekrem, Recaizade Mahmut. Araba Sevdası. Istanbul: İnkilap Kitabevi, 1985. Eldem, Edhem. İftihar ve İmtiyaz: Osmanlı Nişan ve Madalyaları Tarihi. İstanbul: Osmanlı Bankası Arşiv ve Araştırma Merkezi, 2004. Emam, Amr. “Cairo Sheds Ottoman-era Street Names Amid Egypt-Turkey Crisis.” The Arab Weekly 18 February 2018. https://thearabweekly.com/cairo-sheds-ottoman-era-street-names-amid-egypt- turkey-crisis. Accessed 21 May 2020. Erickson, Edward J. Defeat in Detail: The Ottoman Army in the Balkans, 1912-1913. Westport, CT: Praeger, 2003. Ettmüller, Eliane Ursula. The Construct of Egypt’s National-Self in James Sanua’s Early Satire and Caricature. Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 2012. Fahmy, Khaled. All the Pasha’s Men: Mehmed Ali, His Army and the Making of Modern Egypt. Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press, 1997. ______. In Quest of Justice: Islamic Law and Forensic Medicine in Modern Egypt. Oakland, CA: University of California Press, 2018. Fahmy, Ziad. Ordinary Egyptians: Creating the Modern Nation Through Popular Culture. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2011. Faroqhi, Suraiya. “Crisis and Change, 1590-1699.” In An Economic and Social History of the Ottoman Empire, edited by Halil Inalcık and Donald Quataert, 411-636. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994. al-Fattah, Ahmad Abd. Treasures of Our Art Museums 3: Features of an Era. Cairo: Center of Arts, 2019. Exhibition catalogue. http://www.fineart.gov.eg/AllPics/Catalogs/PDF/171/mobile/index.html#p=261. Accessed 21 April 2020.

255

Fayda, Mustafa. “Abbase bint Mehdi.” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi. Accessed 5 April 2020. https://islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/abbase-bint-mehdi. Febvre, Lucien. Le Problème de l’incroyance au XVIe siècle: La religion de Rabelais. Paris: Albin Michel, 1947. Ferguson, Heather. “Genres of Power: Constructing a Discourse of Decline in Ottoman Nasihatname.” Osmanlı Araştırmaları (Journal of Ottoman Studies) 35 (2010): 81-116. Findley, Carter Vaughn. “Fatma Aliye: First Ottoman Woman Novelist, Pioneer Feminist.” Unpublished Article, 18 March 1993. ______. “La soumise, la subversive: Fatma Aliye, romancière et féministe.” Turcica 27 (1995): 153- 176. ______. Ottoman Civil Officialdom: A Social History. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1989. ______. Turkey, Islam, Nationalism, and Modernity: A History, 1789-2007. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010. Finn, Robert P. The Early Turkish Novel, 1872-1900. Istanbul: The Isis Press, 1984. Fleischer, Cornell. “From Şeyhzade Korkud to Mustafa Âli: Cultural Origins of the Ottoman Nasihatname.” IIIrd Congress on the Social and Economic History of Turkey. Princeton, 1983. Fouad, Ahmed. “Last Ottoman Viceroy Casts Shadow on Current Turco-Egyptian Culture War.” al- Monitor, 20 January 2020. https://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/originals/2020/01/egypt-turkish- cultural-war-finds-its-new-hero-in-19th-century.html. Accessed 21 May 2020. Friedman, Jonathan. “Myth, History, and Political Identity.” Cultural Anthropology 7, no.2 (May 1992): 194-210. Frierson, Elizabeth Brown. “Women in Late Ottoman Intellectual History.” In Late Ottoman Society: the Intellectual Legacy, edited by Elisabeth Ozdalga, 135-161 (London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2005). ______. “Unimagined Communities: State, Press, and Gender in the Hamidian Era.” Unpublished PhD Dissertation, Princeton University 1996. Funkenstein, Amos. “Collective Memory and Historical Consciousness.” History and Memory 1, no.1 (Spring-Summer 1989): 5-26. Geertz, Clifford. “Centers, Kings and Charisma: Reflections on the Symbolics of Power.” In Culture and its Creators: Essays in Honor of E. Shils, edited by Joseph Ben-David and Terry N. Clark, 150-171. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977. Geissinger, Aisha. “‘Aisha bint Abi Bakr and her Contributions to the Formation of Islamic Tradition.” Religious Compass 5, no. 1 (2011): 37-49. Gendzier, Irene. The Practical Visions of Ya‘qub Sanu‘. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1966. Georgeon, François. Sultan Abdülhamid. Translated by Ali Berktay. İstanbul: İletişim Yayıncılık, 2012. Gershoni, Israel and James P. Jankowski. Egypt, Islam and the Arabs: The Search for Egyptian Nationhood, 1900-1930. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986. Gillis, John R. “Introduction: Memory and Identity: The History of a Relationship.” In Commemorations: The Politics of National Identity, edited by John R. Gillis, 3-26. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994.

256

Ginio, Eyal. “Making Sense of the Defeat in the Balkan Wars: Voices from the Arab Provinces.” In War and Nationalism: The Balkan Wars, 1912-1913, and Their Sociopolitical Implications, edited by M. Hakan Yavuz and Isa Blumi, 594-617. Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 2013. ______. “War, Dynasty, and Philanthropy: Kavala and the Khedivial Relief Campaign During the Balkan Wars (1912-1913).” In Wealth in the Ottoman and Post-Ottoman Balkans: A Socio- Economic History, edited by Evguenia Davidova, 170-185. London: I.B Tauris, 2016. ______. The Ottoman Culture of Defeat: The Balkan Wars and their Aftermath. New York: Oxford University Press, 2016. Goldschmidt, Jr., Arthur. Biographical Dictionary of Modern Egypt. Boulder, Colorado: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2000. Gorman, Anthony. Historians, State and Politics in Twentieth Century Egypt: Contesting the Nation. London: RoutledgeCurzon, 2003. Greene, Molly. A Shared World: Christians and Muslims in the Early Modern Mediterranean. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000. Habermas, Jürgen. The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category of Bourgeois Society. Translated by Thomas Burger. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1989. Haddad, Mahmoud O. “Muḥammad Rashīd Riḍā (D. 1935)” in Islamic Legal Thought: A Compendium of Muslim Jurists, edited by Oussama Arabi, David S. Powers, and Susan A. Spectorsky, 457-490. Leiden: Brill, 2013. ______. “Iraq Before World War I: A Case of Anti-European Arab Ottomanism.” In The Origins of Arab Nationalism, edited by Rashīd Khalidi, Lisa Anderson, Muḥammad Muslih, and Reeva S. Simon, 120-150. New York: Columbia University Press, 1991. Hall, Richard C. The Balkan Wars, 1912-1913: Prelude to the First World War. London: Routledge, 2000. Hanioğlu, Şükrü. A Brief History of the Late Ottoman Empire. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2008. ______. Preparation for a Revolution: The Young Turks, 1902-1908. New York: Oxford University Press, 2001. ______. The Young Turks in Opposition. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995. Hanotaux, Gabriel. Histoire de la nation égiptienne 7 vols. Paris: Ouvrage publié sous les auspices et le haut patronage de sa majesté Fouad Ier, Roi d’Égypte , 1931-1940. Hartman, Michelle. “An Arab Woman Poet as a Crossover Artist? Reconsidering the Ambivalent Legacy of al-Khansa’.” Tulsa Studies in Women’s Literature, 30, no.1 (Spring 2011): 15-36. Hathaway, Jane. A Tale of Two Factions: Myth, Memory, and Identity in Ottoman Egypt and Yemen. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 2003. ______. The Arab Lands Under the Ottoman Rule, 1516-1800. Harlow, UK: Pearson Education, 2008. ______. The Politics of Households in Ottoman Egypt: The Rise of the Qazdağlıs. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Hobsbawn, Eric. “Introduction: Inventing Traditions.” In The Invention of Tradition, edited by Eric Hobsbawn and Terence Ranger, 1-14. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013 [1983]. Hourani, Albert. Arabic Thought in the Liberal Age: 1798-1939. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983 [1962].

257

Howard, Douglas A. “Genre and Myth in the Ottoman Advice for Kings Literature.” In The Early Modern Ottomans: Remapping the Empire, edited by Virginia H.Aksan and Daniel Goffman, 137-166. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007. Hunter, F. Robert. “Egypt Under the Successors of Muhammad ‘Ali.” In The Cambridge History of Egypt Volume 2: Modern Egypt, From 1517 to the End of the Twentieth Century, edited by M.W Daly, 180-197. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. ______. Egypt Under the Khedives: 1805-1879: From Household Government to Modern Bureaucracy. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 1984. Ḥusayn, Princess Qadrīya. Shahīrāt al-nisāʾ fī al-ʿālam al-Islāmī. Translated by ‘Abd al-Azīz Amīn al-Khājī. Miṣr: al-Maktaba al-Miṣrīyya, 1924. ______. Rasā’il Anqara al-muqaddasa. Translated by Aḥmad Rif‘at (Cairo: al-Maktaba al-Tijaārīya, 1922). Hutton, Patrick H. “The History of Mentalities: The New Map of Cultural History.” History and Theory 20, no.3 (October 1981): 237-259. İhsanoğlu, Ekmeleddin. Mısır’da Türkler ve Kültürel Mirasları: Mehmed Ali Paşa’dan Günümüze Basılı Türk Kültürü Bibliyografyası ve Bir Değerlendirme. Istanbul: İslam Tarih, Sanat ve Kültür Araştırma Merkezi, 2006. ______. The Turks in Egypt and Their Cultural Legacy: An Analytical Study of Turkish Printed Patrimony in Egypt from the Time of Muhammad ‘Ali with Annotated Bibliographies. Translated by Humphrey Davis. Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press, 2012. Inalcık, Halil. “Military and Fiscal Transformation in the Ottoman Empire, 1600-1700.” Archivum Ottomanicum 6 (1980): 283-337. Jankowski, James. “Ottomanism and Arabism in Egypt, 1860-1914.” The Muslim World 70 no.3-4 (1980): 226-259. Kafadar, Cemal. “The Myth of the Golden Age: Ottoman Historical Consciousness in the Post- Suleymanic Era.” In Suleyman the Second and His Time, edited by Halil Inalcik and Cemal Kafadar, 37-48. Isis Press, Istanbul, 1993. Kalyon, Abuzer and Zeynep Gözde Kozlu. “Prenses Kadriye Hüseyin ve Eserleri.” Külliyat: Osmanlı Araştırmaları Dergisi, no.3 (December 2017): 51-63. Kalyon, Bilal. “Prenses Kadriye Hüseyin’in Mehasin-i Hayat Adlı Eserinin Değerler Eğitimi Açısından İncelenmesi ve Eserin Bugünkü Harflere Aktarılması.” Unpublished M.A Thesis. Konya Mevlana Üniversitesi, 2015. Kandemir, M. Yaşar. “Fatima.” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi. Accessed 5 April 2020. https://islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/fatima#1 Kandiyoti, Deniz. “Slave Girls, Temptresses, and Comrades: Images of Women in the Turkish Novel.” Feminist Issues (Spring 1988): 35-50. Karaca, Nesrin. “Son Dönem Osmanlı Edebiyatında Unutulmuş Bir Kadın Yazar: Prenses Kadriye Hüseyin (1888-1955).” Paper presented at Uluslararası Medeniyet ve Kadın Kongresi: Halide Edip Adıvar’ın Ölümünün 50. Yılı Anısına, Muğla, Turkey, 20-22 October 2014. Karakaya-Stump, Ayfer. “Debating Progress in a ‘Serious Newspaper for Muslim Women’: The Periodical ‘Kadın’ of the Post-Revolutionary Salonica, 1908-1909.” British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 30, no. 2 (Nov 2003): 155-181. Karpat, Kemal H. The Politicization of Islam: Reconstructing Identity, State, Faith, and Community in the Late Ottoman State. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001. Kayalı, Hasan. Arabs and Young Turks: Ottomanism, Arabism, and Islamism in the Ottoman Empire, 1908-1918. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997.

258

Kazmias, Alexander. “Cromer’s Assault on ‘Internationalism’: British Colonialism and the Greeks of Egypt, 1882-1907.” In The Long 1890s in Egypt: Colonial Quiescence, Subterranean Resistance, edited by Marilyn Booth and Anthony Gorman, 253-286. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2014. Kelly, Matthew. “The Fall of Decline: The Decline Paradigm and Its Lessons.” IBLA: Revue de l’Institut des Belles Letters Arabes 201, no.1 (2008): 101-117. Kertzer, David. Ritual, Politics, and Power. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1988. Khalidi, Rashīd. “Ottomanism and Arabism in Syria Before 1914: A Reassessment.” In The Origins of Arab Nationalism, edited by Rashīd Khalidi, Lisa Anderson, Muḥammad Muslih, and Reeva S. Simon, 50-69. New York: Columbia University Press, 1991. Khoury, Dina Rizk. State and Provincial Society in the Ottoman Empire: Mosul, 1540-1834. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Klemm, Verena. “Fāṭima bt. Muḥammad.” Encyclopedia of Islam 3rd Ed. Accessed 3 April 2020. https://referenceworks-brillonline-com.proxy.lib.ohio-state.edu/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam- 3/*-COM_27039. Kök, Bahattin. “el-Melikü’s-Salih, Eyyüb.” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi. Accessed 5 April 2020. https://islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/el-melikus-salih-eyyub. Kostopoulou, Elektra. “The Muslim Millet of Autonomous Crete: An Exploration into its Origins and Implications.” Unpublished Ph.D. Dissertation. Boğaziçi University, 2009. Küçük, Hülya. “Rabia el-Adeviyye.” Türkiye Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi. Accessed April 5, 2020 https://islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/rabia-el-adeviyye. Kunt, Metin. The Sultan’s Servants: The Transformation of Ottoman Provincial Government, 1550- 1650. New York: Columbia University Press, 1983. Landau, J.M. “Nishān.” Encyclopedia of Islam, 2nd Ed. Accessed 27 June 2018. http://referenceworks.brillonline.com.proxy.lib.ohio-state.edu/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam- 2/nishan-COM_0867?s.num=0&s.f.s2_parent=s.f.cluster.Encyclopaedia+of+Islam&s.q=nishan Lange-Akhund, Nadine. The Macedonian Question, 1893-1908: From Western Sources. New York: Columbia University Press, 1998. Le Goff, Jacques. “Mentalities: A New Field for Historians.” Social Science Information 13, no.1 (1974): 81-97. ______. History and Memory. Translated by Steven Rendall and Elizabeth Claman. New York: Columbia University Press, 1996. Makdisi, Ussama. The Culture of Sectarianism: Community, History, and Violence in Nineteenth- Century Ottoman Lebanon. Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2000. Mango, Andrew. Atatürk. London: John Murray, 1999. Mardin, Şerif. The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought: A Study in the Modernization of Turkish Political Ideas. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962. Marlow, L. “Surveying Recent Literature on the Arabic and Persian Mirrors for Princes Genre.” History Compass 7, no.2 (2009): 523-538. Marsot, Afaf Lutfi al-Sayyid. A History of Egypt: From the Arab Conquests to the Present 2nd Ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007 [1985]. ______. Egypt in the Reign of Muhammad Ali. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984. Mazower, Mark. The Balkans: A Short History. New York: Modern Library, 2000. ______. Salonica, City of Ghosts: Christians, Muslims and Jews, 1430-1950. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2004.

259

Mestyan, Adam. “Arabic Theater in Early Khedivial Culture, 1868-72: James Sanua Revisited.” International Journal of Middle East Studies 46 (2014): 117-137. ______. Arab Patriotism: The Ideology and Culture of Power in Late Ottoman Egypt. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2016. Mikhail, Alan. Nature and Empire in Ottoman Egypt: An Environmental History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Misek, Roman.“The Background of Austrian Economic Influence in Egypt, Sudan and the Levant: Outline of Historical Survey of the 19th Century.” In Egyptian Revival in Bohemia, 1850-1920: Orientalism and Egyptomania in Czech Lands, edited by Hana Navrátilová, 9-28. Prague: Set Out, 2003. Mitchell, Timothy. Colonising Egypt. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. Moghira, Mohamed Anouar. Moustapha Kamel L’Égyptien (1874-1908): L’homme et l’oœuvre. Paris: L’Harmattan, 2007. Mongy, Yasser. Treasures of Our Art Museums 3: Features of an Era. Cairo: Center of Arts, 2019. Exhibition Catalogue. http://www.fineart.gov.eg/AllPics/Catalogs/PDF/171/mobile/index.html#p=261 accessed 21 April 2020. Moosa, Matti. The Origins of Modern Arabic Fiction. Boulder, Colorado: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1997. Moran, Berna. Türk Romanına Eleştirel Bir Bakış 1: Ahmet Mithat’tan Ahmet Hamdi Tanpınar’a. İstanbul: İletişim Yayınları, 1983. Nafi, Basheer. “How Egyptian Despots Are Defiling History.” Middle East Eye, 18 March 2018. https://www.middleeasteye.net/opinion/how-egyptian-despots-are-defiling-history. Accessed 21 May 2020. Nora, Pierre. “Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de Mémoire.” Representations 26, Special Issue: Memory and Counter-Memory (Spring 1989): 7-24. Özaydın, Zuhal. “The Egyptian Red Crescent Society’s Aid to the Ottoman State During the Balkan War in 1912.” Journal of the International Society for the International History of Islamic Medicine, (2003): 18-21. Özbek, Nadir. “Philanthropic Activity, Ottoman Patriotism, and the Hamidian Regime, 1876-1909.” International Journal of Middle East Studies 37 (2005): 59-81. Öztan, Ramazan Hakkı. “Point of No Return? Prospects of Empire After the Ottoman Defeat in the Balkan Wars (1912-1913).” International Journal of Middle East Studies 50 (2018): 65-84. Pala, İskender. “Nasihatname.” Türk Diyanet Vakfı İslam Ansiklopedisi. Accessed 26 May 2020. https://www.islamansiklopedisi.org.tr/nasihatname. Peirce, Leslie. The Imperial Harem: Women and Sovereignty in the Ottoman Empire. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1993. Peri, Oded. “Ottoman Symbolism in British-Occupied Egypt, 1882-1909.” Middle Eastern Studies 41, no.1 (Jan 2005): 103-120. Philipp, Thomas. Jurji Zaidan and the Foundations of Arab Nationalism: A Study. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2014. Pollard, Lisa. Nurturing the Nation: The Family Politics of Modernizing, Colonizing, and Liberating Egypt, 1805-1923. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005.

260

Quataert, Donald. “An Essay on Economic Relations Between the Ottoman and Habsburg Empires, 1800-1914.” In Habsburgish-osmaniche Beziehungen: Relations Habsburg-ottomanes. Wien, 26-30, September 1983. Colloque sous le patronage du Comité international des études pré- ottomanes et ottomanes. Published by Andreas Tietze. Vienna: Verlag des Verbandes der wissenschaftlichen Gesselschaften Österreichs, 1985. ______. “The Ottoman Boycott Against Austria-Hungary.” In Social Disintegration and Popular Resistance in the Ottoman Empire, 1881-1909: Reactions to European Economic Penetration, edited by Donald Quataert, 121-145. New York: New York University Press, 1983. al-Rafi‘ī, ‘Abd al-Raḥmān, Muḥammad Farīd: Ramz al-Ikhlas wa al-Tadhiya. āl-Qāhirah: Dār al- Ma‘ārif, 1984. ______. ‘Aṣr ‘Ismā‘īl. Cairo: Dār al-Ma‘ārif, 1987 [1932]. ______. ‘Aṣr Muḥammad ‘Alī. Cairo: Matba‘at al-fikra, 1930. ______. Tarīkh al-ḥaraka al-qawmiyya wa tatawwur niẓām al-ḥukum fī miṣr Vol 1. Cairo: Dār al- ma‘ārif, 1987 [1929]. Richards, D.S. “al-Malik al-Ṣāliḥ Najm al-Dīn Ayyūb.” Encyclopedia of Islam 2nd Ed. Accessed 5 April 2020. https://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/encyclopaedia-of-islam-2/al-malik-al- salih-nadjm-al-din-ayyub-SIM_6543. Ricoeur. Paul. Memory, History, Forgetting. Translated by Kathleen Blamey and David Pellauer. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2004. Rogan, Eugene. The Fall of the Ottomans: The Great War in the Middle East. New York: Basic Books, 2015. Russell, Mona L. Creating the New Egyptian Woman: Consumerism, Education, and National Identity, 1863-1922. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2004. Ryad, Umar. Islamic Reformism and : A Critical Reading of the Works of Muḥammad Rashīd Riḍā and His Associates (1898-1935). Leiden: Brill, 2009. Ryzova, Lucie. The Age of the Efendiyya: Passages to Modernity in National-Colonial Egypt. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Samir, Salwa. “Why This TV Series Causes High Drama Between Cairo, Ankara.” al-Monitor, 27 November 2019, https://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/originals/2019/11/kingdoms-of-fire-creates- tensions-egypt-turkey.html. Accessed 21 May 2020. Sammarco, Angelo. Histoire de l’Égypte moderne depuis Mohammed Ali jusqu’à l’occupation britanique 1801-1882 3 Vols. Cairo: Société royale de géographie d’Égypte, 1937. Sayeed, Asma. Women and the Transmission of Religious Knowledge in Islam. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013. Şenışık, Pınar. Girit: Siyaset ve İsyan, 1895-1898. İstanbul: Kitap Yayınevi, 2014. el-Shalakany, Sarah. “Why Some Egyptians Yearn for Return to Monarchy.” al-Monitor, 8 August 2016, https://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/ru/originals/2016/08/egypt-return-monarchy-king- farouk-sisi-economic-crisis.html. Accessed 21 April 2020. Şirin, Funda Selçuk. “The Traumatic Legacy of the Balkan Wars for the Turkish Intellectuals.” In War and Nationalism: The Balkan Wars, 1912-1913, and Their Sociopolitical Implications, edited by M. Hakan Yavuz and Isa Blumi, 679-703. Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 2013. Sohrabi, Nader. Revolution and Constitutionalism in the Ottoman Empire and Iran. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2011.

261

Strantz, Victor von. The Greco-Turkish War of 1897: From Official Sources/ by a German Staff Officer. Translated by Frederica Bolton. London: Swan Sonnenschein, 1898. Sun, Selim. 1897 Osmanlı-Yunan Harbi. Ankara: Genelkurmay Basımevi, 1965. al-Tamawi, Aḥmād Husayn. Jurji Zaydān. āl-Qāhirah: āl-Hay’ah āl-Mısriyya āl-Ammah lil Kitāb, 1992. Tağızade-Karaca, Nesrin. “Prenses Kadriye Hüseyin, Ressam Vittoria Pisani ve Türk Milli Mücadelesi.” Turkish Studies: International Periodical for the Languages, Literature and History of Turkish or Turkic, 7, no.1 (Winter 2012): 1967-1983. Tağızade-Karaca, Nesrin. “Prenses Kadriye Hüseyin’in (1888-1955) Düşünce Dünyasında Doğu- Batı.” In Uluslararası Türk-Arap Müşterek Değerler ve Kültürel Etkileşim Sempozyumu Bildiriler Kitabı, edited by Mehmet Sıddık Yıldırım, 394-418. Amman, Jordan: Yunus Emre Enstitüsü, 2014. Tezcan, Baki. The Second Ottoman Empire: Political and Social Transformation in the Early Modern World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Tokay, Gül. “Ottoman Diplomacy, the Balkan Wars and the Great Powers.” In The Wars before the Great War: Conflict and International Politics before the Outbreak of the First World, edited by Dominik Geppert, William Mulligan, and Andreas Rose, 58-75. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015. Tokay, Gül. “The Origins of the Balkan Wars: A Reinterpretation.” In in War and Nationalism: The Balkan Wars, 1912-1913, and Their Sociopolitical Implications, edited by M. Hakan Yavuz and Isa Blumi, 176-196. Salt Lake City: The University of Utah Press, 2013. Toledano, Ehud R. “Forgetting Egypt’s Ottoman Past.” In Cultural Horizons: A Festschrift in Honor of Talat S. Halman, edited by Jayne L. Warner, 150-167. London: Tauris, 1997. ______. “Muḥammad Farīd: Between Nationalism and the Egyptian-Ottoman Diaspora.” In Diasporas of the Modern Middle East: Contextualizing Community, edited by Anthony Gorman and Sossie Kasbarian, 70-102. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2015. ______. “Social and Economic Change in the ‘Long Nineteenth Century’.” In The Cambridge History of Egypt Volume 2: Modern Egypt, From 1517 to the End of the Twentieth Century, edited by M.W Daly, 252-284. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998. ______. “The Arabic-Speaking World in the Ottoman Period.” In The Ottoman World, edited by Christine Woodhead, 453-466. New York: Routledge, 2012. ______. “The Emergence of Ottoman-Local Elites (1700-1800): A Framework for Research.” In Middle Eastern Politics and Ideas: A History from Within, edited by Ilan Pappé and Moshe Ma’oz, 145-162. London: Tauris Academic Studies, 1997. ______. State and Society in mid-Nineteenth Century Egypt. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990. Trouillot, Michel-Rolph. Silencing the Past: Power and Production of History. Boston: Beacon Press, 2015 [1995]. Tugay, Emine Foat. Three Centuries: Family Chronicles of Turkey and Egypt. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1963. ______. Bir Aile Üç Asır. Translated by Şeniz Türkömer. İstanbul: İş Bankası Kültür Yayınları, 2015. Wagner, Charles. Pour les petits et les grands: Causeries sur la vie et la manière de s’en servir. Paris, 1963 Wehr, Hans. A Dictionary of Modern Written Arabic (Arabic-English) 4th Edtion. Edited by J. Milton Cowan. Urbana, IL: Spoken Language Services, 1994.

262

White, Sam. The Climate of Rebellion in the Early Modern Ottoman Empire. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011. Winter, Michael. Egyptian Society Under Ottoman Rule 1517-1798. London: Routledge, 1991. Wirtschafter, Jacob. “Cairo Exhibit Takes Nostalgic Look at Arts, Culture During Monarchy.” al- Monitor, 19 February 2019, https://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/originals/2019/02/expo-casts- light-on-egypt-monarchy.html Accessed 21 April 2020. Wood, Simon A. Christian Criticisms, Islamic Proofs: Rashīd Riḍā’s Modernist Defense of Islam. Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 2008. Worringer, Renée. “‘Sick Man of Europe’ or ‘Japan of the Near East’: Constructing Ottoman Modernity in the Hamidian and Young Turk Eras.” International Journal of Middle East Studies, 36 no.2 (May 2004): 207-230. ______. “Rising Sun Over Bear: The Impact of the Russo-Japanese War Upon the Young Turks.” In “L’ivresse de la liberté” La révolution de 1908 dans l’Empire ottoman, edited by François Georgeon, 455-485. Paris: Peeters, 2012. Yaycıoğlu, Ali. Partners of the Empire: The Crisis of the Ottoman Order in the Age of Revolutions. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2016. Yosmaoğlu, İpek. Blood Ties: Religion, Violence, and the Politics of Nationhood in Ottoman Macedonia, 1878-1908. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2014. Yousef, Hoda A. Composing Egypt: Reading, Writing, and the Emergence of a Modern Nation, 1870-1930. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2016.

263

Top View