CHAPTER 26
“NEXT YEAR IN JERUSALEM,” Jews avow at the conclusion of their annual Passover celebration. For nearly two thousand years the phrase could operate only as a metaphor, expressing an aspiration about Jewish collective destiny in the distant future. But after November 2, 1917, “Next year in Jerusalem” might be a practical plan of action for an individual Jew in the here and now, a genuinely possible sequence of events culminating soon in relocation to the Promised Land. On that second day in November during the third year of the most awful war in history up until then, Zionism formally gained a powerful ally. As a result, the greatest obstacles to realization of the metaphor had been, or were about to be, removed. Or at least so it seemed.
The Balfour Declaration was the result of a process that some consider practically inevitable. Certainly it is true that conditions created by the war enabled Chaim Weizmann and his colleagues to work wonders. During 1914–17 they gained access to the elite among British Jews and converted many of them to Zionism. They defeated advocates of Jewish assimilation, such as Lucien Wolf of the Conjoint Committee, whose raison d’être, lobbying the Foreign Office on behalf of foreign Jews, especially Russian and Romanian, had been swept away by the war. They gained entrance to British governing circles and converted some of its most important members too.
During this period Weizmann and those who worked with him acted as inspired opportunists. Finally they could argue convincingly that a community of interest linked Zionist aspirations with those of the Entente. Zionists wanted the Ottomans out of Palestine; Britain and France wanted them out of the Middle East altogether. Zionists wanted a British protectorate in Palestine; Britain did too (although initially Sir Mark Sykes had bargained it away in negotiations with Georges-Picot of France).
More generally, Weizmann and his colleagues persuaded powerful men in Britain, France, and Italy that support of Zionism would benefit their wartime cause and the peace to follow. “International Jewry” was a powerful if subterranean force, they claimed, although this was a notable exaggeration if not an outright fantasy, whose goodwill would reap dividends for the Allies. Specifically, they suggested that Jewish finance in America, and Jewish influence upon antiwar forces in Russia, could help determine the conflict’s outcome. Weizmann warned the Foreign Office that Germany recognized the potential of Jewish power and had begun to court it already. He advised the Allies to trump their enemy by declaring outright support for Zionism. His arguments worked upon the minds of anti- and philo-Semites alike among the British governing elite, who were desperate for any advantage in the wartime struggle. Eventually, to gain Jewish backing in the war, they promised to support establishment of a homeland for Jews in Palestine. It did them little good. Historians have discovered that in America Jewish financiers overwhelmingly favored the Allies already. In Russia the Bolsheviks seized power five days after the War Cabinet agreed to the Balfour Declaration. Lenin and Trotsky would take their country out of the war no matter what Russian Jews said.
Meanwhile Grand Sharif Hussein of Mecca and his sons were playing as expertly upon British hopes and fears as the Zionists were. Cautiously, shrewdly, bravely, they forged their own contacts: with the underground societies of Damascus already plotting to cast off the Ottoman yoke; and with representatives of the British government stationed in Cairo, whom they recognized as potential allies in their conflict with the CUP. The Damascene plotters offered Sharif Hussein leadership of their movement. The British, represented by Sir Henry McMahon, the high commissioner in Egypt, offered Hussein pledges of support if he would rebel against the Turks, and recognition of the geographical boundaries and political independence of the kingdom he would then establish. Or, at least Hussein interpreted McMahon’s famous letters this way.
So he marshaled his forces, deployed them, and struck when he judged the moment ripe. In his own milieu Sharif Hussein was as cunning and subtle as Chaim Weizmann was in his. He had to be, for he occupied a personally dangerous position. To break with Constantinople was to risk his life and the lives of his sons and his followers. He did it anyway. His armies took Mecca, Taif, Jeddah, Wejh, and Aqaba. They besieged Medina. They arrived in Damascus almost simulataneously with the British. When they acted as guerrilla forces, they harried the Turks mercilessly, blowing up track and trestles and trains, cutting telegraph lines, slaughtering the unwary. They could not defeat their enemy alone, but they contributed to Britain’s successful Middle Eastern military campaign. Hussein thought the British owed him. Men like T. E. Lawrence, who was in a position to know, thought the British owed him too.
That was not how the British government saw it. Consider the entire business from its point of view. As soon as the Ottomans entered the war, Lord Kitchener approached Sharif Hussein because he thought Hussein had authority to counter the Ottoman caliph’s call for Muslims to wage jihad against Great Britain and her allies. Also he remembered Hussein’s prewar opposition to the CUP. Now he hoped to aim and launch him against their common foe. He offered the grand sharif inducements to act: the caliphate once the Ottomans had been defeated, pledges of material support for his rebellion, recognition of an Arab kingdom under his leadership after the war. Did British officials intentionally encourage Hussein to believe that Palestine would form part of that kingdom? The McMahon letters are too ambiguous for us to tell. Did McMahon mean for them to be ambiguous? He did. The point was to galvanize a potential ally, he explained to Lord Hardinge. Details could be worked out later.
Simultaneously other Foreign Office mandarins engaged in like behavior with the Zionists. Accustomed to dealing with the Conjoint Committee and Lucien Wolf when Jewish interests impinged upon British foreign policy, they proved reluctant at first even to meet with Weizmann or his colleagues. Then the Zionist leader worked his magic. The Foreign Office learned from him to believe in Jewish influence upon the world (not hard, many of them believed in it already) and, more to the point, in Zionist influence upon the Jews. Weizmann told them that Jews wanted a homeland in Palestine above all else. The Foreign Office believed this too. So it encouraged Zionists to think it supported their chief aspiration, even though it might conflict with what McMahon had allowed Sharif Hussein to think. Once again the point was to galvanize a potential ally.
And all the while they had been busy galvanizing, or keeping galvanized, a third and much more important ally, one that had its eye upon the same fatal strip of land, among other strips. British imperialists did not want France in the Middle East at all, but if a postwar French presence in Syria was the price of her continued and wholehearted participation in the war against Germany, then that was a price Britain would pay, even if it meant deceiving Arabs and Zionists in the meantime.
But France thought that Syria included Palestine, and this Britain could not accept. It was one thing for Zionists to claim that land as home under a British protectorate, or for Arabs to govern it under some form of British tutelage; it was quite another for a great power like France to have power over territory bordering Egypt and overlooking, albeit from a distance, the Suez Canal. Sykes persuaded Picot that neither Britain nor France should govern Palestine, but rather an international condominium. Palestine was not “a twice promised land,” as some have written then, but rather a thrice-promised one: to the Arabs (or at least the Arabs thought so), to the Zionists, and to a prospective international consortium whose members had yet to be determined.
Nor is this the end of the very tangled web Great Britain wove for that eastern shore of the Mediterranean Sea. To detach the Ottomans from the Central Powers would do more to win the war for Britain than anything connected to Arabs or Jews. From October 1914 onward certain Britons bent their minds precisely to that task. At first they could not gain much purchase on events. But when the easterner David Lloyd George became prime minister, the project gained a supremely influential advocate, and various pourparlers went forward. Eventually through his emissaries Lloyd George offered to the Turks, among other inducements, that their flag continue to fly over Palestine if they would make a separate peace, even as other British officials were promising to Zionists and Arabs that the Ottomans and their flag would be expelled from the Middle East altogether. In the end Enver Pasha spurned Lloyd George’s offer. Nevertheless, it seems right to suggest that Palestine was not thrice-promised really. It was promised, or at any rate dangled as bait, four times: before the Zionists and the Arabs, before Picot by Sykes in the shape of an as-yet-unformed international consortium, and before the Turks, who would otherwise lose it as a result of the war.
Of course during most of our period, for imperial-economic-strategic reasons, Britain meant to keep the primary governing role in Palestine for herself.
The Balfour Declaration was the highly contingent product of a tortuous process characterized as much by deceit and chance as by vision and diplomacy. Weizmann was a genius, but his triumph, even among his British coreligionists, was hardly preordained. The victory over Lucien Wolf was near-run and not entirely edifying. His paramount position among British Zionists was secure, but that did not stop members of his inner circle from severely criticizing his judgment. Nor did it inhibit others among the larger Zionist community from condemning his authoritarian manner, so that more than once Weizmann felt obliged to offer them his resignation. Had Harry Sacher and Leon Simon prevailed in the argument over his attitude toward the separate peace with Turkey, or had Weizmann carried through on any of his several threats to resign, the history of Palestine, and of the world, might be very different.
So might it be if King Hussein’s forces had been able to occupy parts of Syria a little bit earlier than they did. That was what T. E. Lawrence thought would happen. On the night he rode out of Aqaba with George Lloyd, he predicted that Hussein’s writ would run “along the coast from Acre northwards.” He did not realize it was already too late, that the War Cabinet had just endorsed Balfour’s letter to Lord Rothschild.
Or imagine that Hussein had possessed in London an advocate for Arab nationalism who was as skillful and eloquent as Chaim Weizmann. He himself could not travel there to play that role, so he relied instead upon British proxies such as Lawrence and Mark Sykes. Both these men possessed genius, but Sykes—juggling Jews, Arabs, Armenians, French, and various Britons, among others—could never advocate solely for the Arabs even if he wished to, which he never did. As for Lawrence, his views must be termed ambiguous. He was pro-Arab, he wrote to Sykes, and pro-British too. Anyway, during the war he was not often in London, and afterward it was too late. Perhaps one of Hussein’s sons, Abdullah or Feisal, could have lobbied for Arab nationalism as Weizmann did for Zionism, although one doubts they would have exhibited his extraordinary combination of skills. In any event Hussein needed them both in Arabia. Nevertheless, just because that was how it was does not mean that was how it had to be.
Moreover, the movement for a separate peace with Turkey had the potential for spoiling Zionist and Arab plans altogether. In June and July 1917, with three British agents (Pilling, Herbert, and Zaharoff) and one American (Morgenthau) engaged in talks with Turks or preparing to talk with them, the Ottomans still held Syria, including Palestine. A separate peace with the Allies at that juncture might well have left them with more than symbolic control over those lands. That was why Weizmann opposed the idea so fiercely. He managed to stymie Morgenthau. He could not stymie Herbert, but the Turks did, in the sense that they did not follow up on their initial contact with him. Weizmann learned about J. R. Pilling in late November, after publication of the Balfour Declaration. We have evidence that he realized that everything gained by that document still could be lost. He and the Armenian, James Malcolm, called immediately upon Ronald Graham at the Foreign Office to express their “serious concern not1 to say alarm.” Graham reassured them: Pilling had no authority. He did not mention the role of Basil Zaharoff, because neither he nor anyone else in the Foreign Office knew about it.
Zaharoff’s several journeys to speak with Turks would have caused Weizmann much greater alarm, for they had a greater chance of success. His penultimate trip was most dangerous from the Zionist point of view. Even after publication of the Balfour Declaration, Lloyd George offered to allow the Turkish flag to continue flying over Jerusalem. Imagine that Enver Pasha, through his intermediary, Abdul Kerim, had sealed the deal with the arms merchant in that Swiss hotel room and arranged the separate peace early in 1918. In that case one may doubt that Jews celebrating Passover in subsequent years would have charged their annual vow with the new practical meaning they thought the Declaration made possible.
Because it was unpredictable and characterized by contradictions, deceptions, misinterpretations, and wishful thinking, the lead-up to the Balfour Declaration sowed dragon’s teeth. It produced a murderous harvest, and we go on harvesting even today.
When the Zionists learned of the Sykes-Picot Agreement, which envisioned an international condominium administering Palestine, they were enraged. It contradicted everything British officials had led them to believe they could hope for in the Middle East. They concluded they must obtain from the British government a written guarantee of support. They took the Balfour Declaration to be that guarantee. In fact, Britain’s deceptive practices never ceased. During the summer of 1917, after Zionists learned of the Sykes-Picot Agreement but before they obtained the Declaration, the Foreign Office satisfied Weizmann by allowing him to checkmate Morgenthau on his way to speak with Turks about a separate peace. Simultaneously it encouraged Aubrey Herbert to travel to Switzerland to speak with Turks about that very subject. Needless to say, it did not tell Weizmann. After the Declaration it remained true that what Lloyd George gave with one hand he might negotiate away with the other—if only Enver Pasha would let him. Of the discussions between Zaharoff and Abdul Kerim, the Zionists never learned. Still, the prime minister’s conduct did not augur well for future transparency or good relations between Jewish nationalists and the British government.
King Hussein and the Arab nationalists felt British duplicity more keenly than Weizmann and the Zionists did. The Sykes-Picot Agreement contradicted their aspirations too. But when Sykes told Hussein in Jeddah that France would treat the Syrian littoral including northern Palestine just as Britain would treat Mesopotamia, Hussein made a fatal mistake. He remembered his correspondence with Sir Henry McMahon and references in it to a temporary British occupation of Baghdad and Basra. We know that McMahon was purposely vague in his letters, but Hussein did not. He thought he had ironclad guarantees for Mesopotamia and now for Syria too. He trusted Sykes implicitly. Hussein’s son Feisal and his adviser Fuad Selim, not to mention even a few British imperial officials, feared he misjudged. We shall never know—perhaps Sykes could somehow have squared even this circle. Unfortunately he died in Paris on February 16, 1919, of Spanish influenza. And then at Versailles Lloyd George allowed France to take Syria so long as Britain could take Iraq and Palestine “from Dan to Beersheba.” So with Clemenceau he bargained away part of the Arab nationalist dream, just as months earlier he had been prepared to bargain away part of the Zionist dream with Enver.
Historians who have written about the Hussein-McMahon correspondence and the Sykes-Picot Agreement have spilled oceans of ink tracing the initial reaction of Hussein and his sons to the Balfour Declaration. Did they promise to welcome and work with Jewish colonists and only develop reservations later, or did they express disquiet at the outset? We can no more settle this debate than the others; the evidence, as always for this subject and period, is mixed and ambiguous. When Hogarth of the Arab Bureau traveled to Jeddah to explain the Declaration to Hussein, the “King seemed quite2 prepared for [the] formula and agreed enthusiastically, saying he welcomed Jews to all Arab lands.” But note that Hussein considered Palestine to be Arab land. Then Sykes coached Feisal on the subject in an extraordinary letter that reveals his own fantastic understanding of Jews:
I know that the Arabs3 despise, condemn and hate the Jews, but passion is the ruin of princes and peoples … Those who have persecuted or condemned the Jews could tell you the tale. The Empire of Spain in the old days and the Empire of Russia in our time show the road of ruin that Jewish persecution leads to. You say to yourself what is this race despised, rejected, abhorred, that cannot fight, that has no home and is no nation? O Feisal, I can read your heart and your thought, and there are counselors about you who will whisper similar things in your ear. Believe I speak the truth when I say that this race, despised and weak, is universal, is all powerful and cannot be put down.
Feisal replied: “I do not, and never did,4 despise anyone on account of his religion … Therefore on general grounds I would welcome any good understanding with the Jews.” Was the Balfour Declaration a “good understanding”? Feisal was not sure. He continued in this letter to Sykes: “But I do not know what is going on, nor what is the basis of the arrangement intended to be concluded about Palestine for Jews and Arabs.” To Hakki Bey, a prominent Muslim from Damascus, he expressed doubts in December 1917. He did not look5 favorably upon the Balfour Declaration, he told him, but he was not yet prepared to protest it.
Whatever Hussein and his immediate family thought of the Declaration, it produced grave reservations among Arabs and Muslims more generally. Hakki Bey found that when Arab leaders with Feisal in Aqaba learned of it, they did not hesitate to denounce “the ambitions and6 designs of Great Britain and France.” Elsewhere, two days after publication, William Yale of the U.S. State Department was reporting that “the Syrians have held meetings to protest against Zionism to all the Allies, and the younger and more hot-headed among the Moslems are laying plans for the future that bode no good for the peace of Palestine.” The Syrian leaders dispatched a telegram to Balfour:
With reference to the recent publication of your Excellency’s declaration to Lord Rothschild regarding the Jews in Palestine, we respectfully take the liberty to invite your Excellency’s attention to the fact that Palestine forms a vital part of Syria—as the heart is to the body—admitting of no separation politically or sociologically, more especially as Palestine is looked upon both by Islam and Christendom as the polar star and birthplace of their religious ideals as much as by Jewry.
In London the Islamic Society convened on November 5 at 46 Great Russell Street in Bloomsbury, not far from the Imperial Hotel on Russell Square where the Zionists had gathered the previous summer to draft the claim to their Promised Land. The Muslims, however, wished “to remind the British government of its pledge to keep inviolate the places of Moslem worship including Masjid-i-Aksa which is synonymous with the Latin name of Palestine.” They passed a second even more pointed resolution:
That we members of the Islamic Society regard with great concern the mischievous movement started by some people calling themselves Zionists, and we hope that the British government will once more make a declaration of its policy at an early date in order to remove any misapprehension which may exist in the minds of the Moslems.
Five days after that an eminent member of the Anglo-Muslim London community, the barrister Amir Ali, founder of the Red Crescent Society, reiterated these concerns: “Palestine is unquestionably regarded by Moslems as a Holy Land, and Jerusalem as next in sanctity to Mecca and Medina,” he wrote to Lord Hardinge. “The soul of their Prophet7 rested in Jerusalem on its ascent to communication with the Divinity. Jerusalem and its environs are covered with Moslem shrines, mosques and mausoleums. Your Lordship will readily realize how offensive the idea must be to them that their holiest places in Palestine should be placed under Jewish control.”
To such objections, the British always replied that the Balfour Declaration specifically protected the rights of non-Jews in Palestine. But in 1917 Arabs outnumbered Jews there by six or seven to one. A promise to protect the vast majority from a tiny minority seemed upside down to them. And British officials sometimes grew impatient with expressions of Arab unease. When he learned of the Syrian telegram to Balfour, General Clayton called its authors to a meeting. He told them “the Zionists were very8powerful … Throughout the world the Jews controlled the capital … In their determination to obtain Palestine as a Home for the Jews they would undoubtedly succeed.” So, he advised, the Arabs had better cooperate when the Zionists arrived in Palestine. When Sykes read the resolutions submitted by the Islamic Society to the Foreign Office, he scrawled upon the file in his round, boyish hand: “I strongly urge9 no notice be taken of this … crew of seditionists and C.U.P. agents … Most of the members ought to be behind the barbed wire. In any other country they would be.” This almost makes one wonder whether he intended to square Arab-Zionist conflict after all.
Whether he could have done so remains moot, for in 1919 Sykes passed unwilling from the scene. The Britons who followed him, to whom the League of Nations gave a mandate for governing Palestine in 1920, certainly could not keep the peace there, but then wartime British officials who had done so much to facilitate the Zionist and Arab movements had never aimed primarily to keep the peace in Palestine, they aimed to win the First World War and to maintain their country’s place in the world. Here are the primary motivations (although not the only ones) for all their dealings with Grand Sharif Hussein and Chaim Weizmann. Of course neither man, nor any of their followers, acted as mere pawns in British hands. Zionists and Arabs fought fiercely and tenaciously for their goals during the war and after. But we cannot be surprised at the results of so complex and fraught a process as the lead-up to the Balfour Declaration.
The most famous result was the Declaration itself. Zionists and many others have viewed it ever since as a terrific achievement, a foundation stone along the way to the establishment of modern Israel. Many Arabs, on the other hand, have seen it as a terrible setback, the real starting point of their dispossession and misery.
An equally consequential result of the process was the development of profound mistrust, of all parties by all parties; and growing from that mistrust a bitterness that would lead to the spilling of much blood.
At the end of the war Britain ruled Palestine by virtue of military occupation. The Paris Peace Conference in 1919 and the San Remo Conference in 1920 ratified her rule and extended it indefinitely within the mandate system established by the League of Nations. Zionism had achieved its objective, yet Zionist doubts about Britain were reviving. Many Zionists thought Ronald Storrs, Britain’s first military governor of Jerusalem, favored the Arabs over them; and that the new colonial secretary, Winston Churchill, hitherto a staunch ally, favored Arabs too, at least at a conference in Cairo in 1922, when he carved Transjordan out of Palestine and established Hussein’s son, Abdullah, as its ruler. Even Herbert Samuel, British Palestine’s first high commissioner, shocked and displeased Zionists by temporarily suspending Jewish immigration after anti-Zionist riots in May 1921 and by pardoning jailed rioters. That certain British officials continued to express anti-Semitic views did not improve matters.
Tension between Zionists and British officials eased after 1922, but in 1930 a Labour Government, wishing to assuage Arab resentment of the Jewish presence, accepted a white paper issued by Colonial Secretary Lord Passfield, the Fabian socialist formerly known as Sidney Webb. Webb questioned the very bases of the Zionist program: Jewish immigration into Palestine (again); exclusive labor practices; the wholesale purchase of Arab land. Against this paper Zionists protested so vehemently that the governmentbacked down, but in 1937 a Conservative government, hoping to settle the problem once and for all, accepted the recommendations of another investigative commission, this one led by Lord Peel: Palestine should be divided into a Jewish state, an Arab state, and a territory still under British mandate. Among Zionists this plan aroused grave suspicion and a storm of protest, although Weizmann ultimately urged acceptance. Then in 1939 Neville Chamberlain’s government repudiated the Peel Report: Palestine should not be partitioned; it should become an independent binational Arab-Jewish state. Over the next five years seventy-five thousand more Jews would be allowed to enter; then Jewish immigration should cease altogether. At this point Arabs outnumbered Jews in Palestine by about three to one, and Zionist mistrust of British intentions scaled new heights. It hardly diminished even during World War II, despite the fact that Chamberlain’s plan remained on the drawing boards only.
Arab mistrust and resentment also grew after 1918. Hussein did not get his Arab kingdom but merely the kingdom of Hejaz (and that only until 1924, when Ibn Saud and his Wahhabi fundamentalists overthrew him and established Saudi Arabia). Feisal never became king of an independent Syria: The French expelled him from Damascus in 1920; a year later the British established him as their puppet ruler of Iraq and his brother Abdullah as an equally dependent ruler of Transjordan. Were they better off with British or Ottoman overlords? It seems fair to conclude at least that their attitudes toward Britain, and the attitudes of their followers, were not simple.
As for the majority of Palestinian Arabs, they directed their resentment against Jews (whom they thought were stealing their land) and against British officials (whom they thought were protecting the Jews). In 1920 and 1921 Arab rioters killed more than half a dozen. In 1929 pogroms in Jerusalem, Hebron, Safed, and elsewhere resulted in the deaths of 133, the injury of hundreds more, and the destruction of much property. In 1936 a full-blown Arab Palestinian revolt developed. The recommendations of the Peel Commission, which were meant to tamp it down, only added fuel to the fire. Arab leaders denounced Peel even more vociferously than Zionists did and rejected his proposals unanimously. A general strike of Arab Palestinians demanded immediate cessation of Jewish immigration, prohibition of the sale of Arab land to Jews, and establishment of a national government. Something like civil war ensued. Volunteers from throughout the Arab world poured into Palestine to fight Zionists and Britons alike.
Britain had a mandate10 to govern Palestine but lacked the means. Her empire reached the zenith of its extent just after World War I weakened it irreparably. In the Middle East during the spring of 1919, General Allenby was demobilizing soldiers at the rate of twenty thousand a month. A year later the chief of the general staff complained, “In no single theatre11 are we strong enough. Not in Ireland, nor England, not on the Rhine, not in Constantinople, nor Batoum, nor Egypt, nor Palestine, nor Mesopotamia, nor Persia, nor India.” Britain would experience during the coming half century something like what the Ottomans endured half a century before: gradual diminution of an empire whose subject peoples demanded control of their own destinies and would take up arms to gain them. In Palestine, Jews and Arabs took up arms; Britain had not the strength to keep the peace.
The Jews established a paramilitary organization, Haganah, in 1920 because Britain failed to defend them effectively during the pogroms of that year. Two additional armed groups appeared in the 1930s: Etzel (which the British called Irgun), and Lechi (which they called the Stern Gang), a breakaway from Etzel. Both groups moved from defensive to offensive operations and eventually to terrorist campaigns against Arabs and Britons too. They reached a bloody climax in the years immediately after the Second World War, when Etzel and Lechi carried out assassinations, beatings, and bombings, most notoriously against the King David Hotel in Jerusalem, where they killed 91 and injured 46.
To such a low ebb had sunk British-Zionist relations, but British-Arab relations sank lower still. The most important Palestinian leader of the Mandate period, Haj Amin al-Husseini, gained the lifetime post of grand mufti, the highest Muslim religious office in Jerusalem, with the support of none other than Herbert Samuel, who thought he would help maintain order among Arabs. In fact, al-Husseini was an uncompromising Palestinian nationalist, thus an implacable enemy of British occupation and Zionism both. He led the Arab Revolt in 1936. Hunted by the British, he fled, landing finally in Nazi Germany during World War II, where he sought Hitler’s support for Arab independence. Al-Husseini would be sidelined during the 1948 war between Arabs and the nascent state of Israel when hatred and violence overboiled yet again, this time with decisive results. But al-Husseini’s viewpoint was not sidelined. It remains potent as ever.
During World War I, then, Britain and her allies slew the Ottoman dragon in the Middle East. By their policies they sowed dragon’s teeth. Armed men rose up from the ground. They are rising still.