Abstract
The final two weeks of September 1918 were crucial for the modern history of Damascus. They marked exodus of the Ottoman Turks and entry of the Allied Forces, yet they have received mediocre attention from World War I historians. Most literature on the Great War in the Middle East covers British strategies in the Arab Revolt and Hashemite ambitions, revolving around the characters of T. E. Lawrence and Sharif Faisal. Most cover the years 1916–18, or the British-backed Arab government that was established on October 1, 1918, the day Lawrence entered Damascus. Never has scholarly attention been given as to what happened inside the city itself during these two weeks that preceded October 1, or to the community leaders who teamed up to protect Damascus from uncontrollable chaos that threatened to tear the city apart. This article looks at the two weeks inside the city, namely through one protagonist, being the self-appointed governor of Damascus, Emir Said El Djazairi.
Highlights
The Djazairi Family and Damascus “People are waiting for the city to fall,” wrote Emir Said El Djazairi, a Damascus-based Algerian notable, in late 1918
Emir Abdelkader had everything: religious legitimacy, being a descendant of the Prophet Mohammad, power, money, and intellect. His charm was legendary, prompting the wife of a British diplomat to commend, “His mind is as beautiful as his face. He is every inch a sultan!”7 Henry Jessup, an American missionary who came to Damascus at the time, added, “No visit to Damascus was complete without a call on the noble emir.”[8]
The glory of the Djazairi family in Damascus came in July 1860, when the Emir made history once again, this time as the city collapsed into uncontrollable violence resulting from Maronite peasants in northern Lebanon revolting against their Druze overlords
Summary
On September 19, British, Indian, and Australian units broke through Turkish defenses in Palestine and pushed northwards toward Ottoman Damascus. The British general goes as far as to describe him as a “low-browed degenerate with a bad mouth.”[4] A similar impression was sketched by Stephen Pichon, the foreign minister of France, who described Emir Said as “unbalanced and unintelligent.”[5] The fate of the city would have been very different had it not been for the Algerian prince’s bravado, which was ad hoc, verging on the edge of lunacy, but reflecting a strong sense of purpose in life His personal role in the final two week of September 1918 cannot be understood, without delving into the moral heritage hanging on his shoulders, inherited by the fascinating history of his family
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