From Zeytindağı to the present day, nothing has changed in the desert

Journalist Falih Rıfkı Atay served as the chief of staff at the headquarters of the 4th Army Commander Cemal Pasha in Jerusalem during World War I. Zeytindağı (Mount of Olives) is a classic work, even from the time it was written, that reflects the memories of Reserve Officer Falih Rıfkı regarding Syria, Lebanon, and Palestine, as well as his observations on the Arab world.

ZEYTİNDAĞI carries the distinction of being a book that should be read again, with emphasis, especially in these days, in terms of its historical, political, and sociological lessons.

The Hashemites, descendants of Prophet Muhammad, were the pioneers of the British-instigated Arab Revolt that erupted in 1916. The Hashemites, who set out to revolt with the dream of a kingdom in the Arab geography, not only failed to find what they hoped for but would also lose what they had shortly thereafter.

It would not be the fate of Sharif Hussein to enjoy the pleasure of the throne he was installed upon; he would be liquidated in a short time by the Saudis coming from Nejd. The interesting part is that the strings of both the Hashemites and the House of Saud are in the hands of the United Kingdom! The Saudis, the powerful tribe of the desert (Nejd), do not appear to have any intention in the 21st century of leaving the throne they usurped from the descendants of Prophet Muhammad in the first quarter of the last century!

The excerpts we have taken from Zeytindağı, which describes the region 100 years ago, show that there has not been much change in Arab sociology and Arab politics since that date. As you can understand, there is actually nothing new on the Arab front:

"Above all, the desert Bedouins had no religion other than gold and precious stones. On the chests of the sheikhs along the borders, British and German medals stood side by side. The sheikh asks you who you are:

- Are you British?

- Long live the British!

- Are you Turkish?

- Long live the Turks!

You calculate the medal or gold you will give. At that moment, the job you expected is done.

The Bedouins, who would steal horses from the British front and sell them to us, would steal our horses on their return and sell them to the British. There were not a few who, hiding in the middle of the war fronts, risked their lives to collect the spoils of the fleeing side before the victorious side could.

You know that there are semi-independent sheikhdoms and emirates in the deserts of Arabia and Iraq. These are drafts of states that rule in the void between the inhabited land and the sea. British gold from the sea and Ottoman gold from the land go to the sheikhs and emirs. One of their sources of income is raids and looting, which have been sanctified as 'ghazw'.

I must tell the story of one of these tent states among the scenes of Syria and Hejaz. This is an emirate. The emir's name is Saud. He sits in Upper Nejd... The emir's political duty is not to offend Ibn Saud, to receive gifts from the sheriffs of Hejaz, and to draw gold from the Ottoman treasury. The government consists of a sheikh they call the Qadi. Cases such as marriage, inheritance, murder, and theft are resolved with bribes given to him. God, greater than money, has not yet entered the deserts where the tribes are located. Everything done for the sake of money is as if it were done for the sake of God.

Until the Hejaz revolt, we were giving money to this emir and his men so that they would behave. After the revolt, we sent gold so that they would come to the Hejaz line, hold the line, and pressure the Sharif's forces. A few people shared all our gold among themselves and did not set out for months.

The emir's party had no concern other than getting along well with the British, the Sheriffs, and the Ottomans, and in the end, not being deprived of the share of whoever won. The sound brought from the desert by our caravan after caravan of weapons and gold consisted only of prayers, promises, and excuses.

We had also sent cannons to the Emir. The commander was Second Lieutenant Osman Bey. When the tribe showed a march toward Medain, they were fired upon in a valley. Our side remained with 1000, the other side with 30 people. When a few more people were wounded, they all started to run away. They were saying to Osman Bey:

- "Leave your cannon, come!"

- "That is my honor, I cannot leave it. Why are you running away?" he was saying.

He shouted and called in vain. The other side swarmed over him and tore the Turkish boy to pieces with bullets and daggers.

We gave everything: weapons, cannons, gold, camels, and provisions. And from the whole expedition, nothing remained for us but the nameless, unadorned grave of a single Turkish boy. Osman, who was torn to pieces while embracing his Turkish cannon, died on the third day of June in the year 333."

You know that water seen in the desert due to the scorching sun, hot dunes, and the effect of thirst is actually a dream, a deceptive mirage. Look at the situation in which those who dragged Turkey back into the Arab deserts 100 years later, chasing the mirage of Neo-Ottomanism, have left the country?