A Box of Sand

by Charles Stephenson

  Avanti was not then a large circulation paper. This was to change largely thanks to one, then little known, socialist named Benito Mussolini. When the war began he was editing another much smaller Socialist newspaper, La Lotta di Classe (Class Struggle) at Forli in the north-east of Italy. He was forthright in his opposition to the war and campaigned for a general strike. This led to him being arraigned for obstructing the public authorities in the performance of their duties, advocating violence against persons and property, and inciting people to cause specific damage. He was sentenced on 23 November 1911 to one year in prison, subsequently reduced to five months. His fame spread because of the conviction and on his release in April 1912 he was appointed as editor of Avanti in Milan. He increased the circulation and, because he wrote a great deal of the content personally, greatly expanded his influence.6 It is unsurprising that Avanti increased its circulation. The anti-war message had begun to resonate among the working class and the conscripts that had to fight it were drawn from their ranks. Many attempted to avoid military service and, for example, the Italian community in Australia ‘increased markedly, especially as a result of an influx of men trying to avoid call up.’7

  Domestically unpopular as the war might have been in certain quarters, this opposition was in no way powerful enough to deflect the government. The problem was the government did not really have a policy in respect of bringing the Ottoman government to terms, and felt constrained in formulating one. As long as the war was confined to the territory of the Tripoli vilayet then it was, from the point of view of the Great Powers, considered generally containable. With Italy, in Lowe’s words, ‘straddling the Triple Alliance-Triple Entente confrontation’ neither of the blocs, or their members, would act in such a way as to push her into the arms of the opposing bloc; no power was willing to risk seriously offending Italy.8 Nevertheless, the Italo-Ottoman War had considerable potential to upset the delicate equilibrium of European politics should it spread.

  The views of the most disinterested of the Great Powers, Russia, had been made known right at the outset: ‘So long as France does not protest it is a matter of indifference to Russia who occupies the North African coast […] Russian diplomacy will remain passive unless Turkey should seek compensation, leading to disturbances in the Balkans.’9 It was of course a cardinal point of Italian diplomacy that who occupied the North African coast remained ‘a matter of indifference’ to Russia and the other powers, insofar as it allowed Italy to be that occupier. On the other hand, and particularly after the situation there became militarily stalemated, Italy sought to involve the other powers in such a way as to pressure the Ottoman Empire to make peace on Italian terms. The Ottomans of course sought international aid for precisely the opposite reason, and had done so from the beginning of hostilities by making unsuccessful appeals for intervention and for one or other of the Great Powers, or a combination of them, to broker a deal. These approaches even included the offer of a formal Alliance with Britain, made on 30 October 1911. In return for this alliance Britain was expected to guarantee the integrity of the Ottoman Empire and use her power to intervene with Italy. The object of this last exercise being to get the Italians to accept a settlement which would recognize some version of Ottoman sovereignty in Tripoli and Cyrenaica. Such an action was though unpalatable to Sir Edward Grey, Britain’s Foreign Secretary, and he refused to countenance a departure from the policy of strict neutrality that he had proclaimed at the start of hostilities.10 As has already been noted, Italy could have had the substance of what she wanted from the outset, though this would have involved compromises over the form. The Italian declaration of sovereignty over the vilayet on 5 November prevented any further dubiety on that score, and so the situation became one of diplomatic, as well as military, stalemate.

  Though all the powers sought to avoid estranging Italy, none of them wished their relations with the Ottoman Empire to be damaged either, or for the Empire to be greatly weakened. All the powers wanted to avoid disturbances in the Balkans, which were notoriously unstable, whilst, as has been noted, Austria-Hungary was particularly sensitive to any Italian action in the Adriatic that might precipitate this. Of all the Great Powers that wished an end to the Italo-Ottoman conflict, the one with perhaps the most compelling reasons was probably Germany. German-Ottoman links were several and seemingly deep. Such figures as the revered German Field-Marshal Count Helmuth von Moltke (the Elder) had, as a young officer, served with the Ottoman army from 1836 to 1839 as an adviser. Though undoubtedly he became the most famous German commander to have strong associations with the Ottoman army, he was not the first such, nor the last, and military ties between the two empires were to become very close.11

  In a similar vein Ottoman armaments were supplied by German companies, and Karl Küntzer calculated that in 1897 the profits on these arms sales, mainly accrued by Krupp and Mauser, were around 80 million Marks.12 Indeed, these two firms had a ‘virtual monopoly’ on the supply of arms and ammunition to the Ottoman army after 1885.13 The main heavy units of the Ottoman navy, such as it was in the early twentieth century, were also ex-German, though new construction was being pursued in Britain. Nevertheless, between 1890 and 1910, trade with Germany increased from 6 per cent to 21 per cent of all Ottoman trade.

  Apart from armaments, the most famous example of German-Ottoman ties came in the shape of railways. German capital and expertise built the Anatolian Railway, which was begun in May 1889, and the better known Baghdad Railway, started in 1904, whilst the rolling stock for these networks was provided by German enterprises.14 These were not just business deals; the German government pressurised the Deutsche Bank, the financial institution behind the business, to carry them through as part of German foreign policy.15

  The attractions of being friendly with, if not allied to, the Ottoman Empire were obvious to Germany. If, in the event of a great European war involving Germany and Russia, the Ottoman Empire were opposed to the latter then a huge shift in Russian military attention from Germany’s east to the Balkans and Caucasus would take place. This would be of immense benefit to Germany whose war plan for dealing with Russia and her ally France had, since the early years of the century, envisaged massing her forces overwhelmingly in the west whilst leaving those in the east with the bare minimum. This policy was probably aided by Germany being the only one of the Great Powers that did not have any obvious ambitions as regards annexing or otherwise claiming Ottoman territory. However, Germany’s policy had its limits cruelly exposed by the Italian precipitation of war. Germany, in common with the other powers, could and would do nothing to jeopardize the international balance of power. But neither did Germany want to lose Italy as an ally nor the Ottomans as friends; a devilish conundrum for the German foreign office to attempt to solve.

  Russia, the state that had proclaimed ‘indifference’ over the war whilst it remained confined to North Africa, and who probably had most to gain by any rupture in German-Ottoman relations, was however to be greatly interested by one gambit that was proposed separately and for differing reasons by both sides; the closure of the Dardanelles. The Dardanelles (the Hellespont of antiquity) formed the southern portion, from the Aegean Sea in the north-eastern part of the Mediterranean Basin to the Sea of Marmara, of the Turkish Straits. The northern portion consists of the Bosphorus (Bosporus), which links the Sea of Marmara to the Black Sea. The Turkish Straits were of immense strategic importance internationally, with some forty per cent of all Russian trade passing through them on, largely, British owned ships. They were also of huge import to the Ottoman Empire, with its capital Istanbul (Constantinople), located at the southern entrance to the Bosphorus. One recent analysis of Turkish foreign policy stated it thus: ‘The foreign relations of Turkey, and the Ottoman Empire before her, have been in the large part, governed since the eighteenth century by the attempts of the Russians to gain control of the Straits, and the efforts of Britain and France (and lately the United States) to stop them.’16

  The Straits
were regulated by international treaty. The Treaty of Paris in 1856, which brought to an end the Crimean War, de-navalised the Black Sea by prohibiting the Ottoman Empire and Russia from deploying warships there. Further, the passage of warships of any nationality through the Straits was forbidden. Revision to this agreement was made by the 1871 Treaty of London (sometimes called the Pontus Treaty after the ancient Greek name for the Black Sea: Pontos Euxeinos) under which Russia and the Ottoman Empire could again deploy warships in the Black Sea. Such vessels were however excluded from passing through the Straits, except when in time of peace the Ottoman Sultan should deem it necessary in order to enforce the provisions of the Treaty of Paris. Russia had suffered from this prohibition during the Russo-Japanese War. The Black Sea Fleet had been unable to join the Second and Third Pacific Squadrons as they sailed around the world from the Baltic. Russia did ask the Ottoman Empire for permission to send the fleet through the Straits, but the British, who were allied with Japan, had argued that such action would be considered a breach of the treaty.

  The right of merchant vessels of all nations to pass through the Straits, other than those of belligerents during a period of conflict, was affirmed by Article III. These various instruments had been signed by Austria, Britain, France, Germany, the Ottoman Empire, Italy, and Russia. British interest in the Straits and the prevention of Russian control of them had been elucidated by Lord Beaconsfield (Benjamin Disraeli) in 1876. He reckoned that possession of the Ottoman capital constituted the ‘key to India.’17 Disraeli may have exaggerated, but there is no doubt that the future of the Turkish Straits became a major concern for British defence planners and policy-makers throughout the rest of the long nineteenth century.

  The first intimation that the closure of the Turkish Straits was in the offing came from the Ottoman government. Concerned by reported Italian naval activity in the Aegean Sea, which was actually confined to small-scale patrolling, the garrisons at several of the Dodecanese Islands were strengthened. Beehler states that these reinforcements amounted to sending 2,000 troops to Lesbos and 1,500 each to Rhodes, Samos and Chios (Khíos). Weapons were also issued to the Muslim population of the islands, though not to the majority Orthodox population.18 On 10 November 1911 a new Foreign Minister, Mustafa Assim Bey, had been appointed in Istanbul. He lost no time in asking his ambassadors to the five Great Powers to point out that the threat of Italian attacks in the Aegean could lead to the paralyzing of ‘general commerce.’ This was a less than subtle reference to the closure of the Straits, but it could be prevented if the Powers were able to persuade Italy not to extend the war.19 The Powers were unwilling to pressure Italy, and nothing came of the initiative; in any event the Straits remained open. Italy made the next move, or perhaps ‘hesitant step’ would be a better description, by informing the Austro-Hungarian and Russian governments on 20 November that it would set up a naval blockade of the Dardanelles.

  The Russian Foreign Minister at the time was Sergei Sazonov, but he had been taken seriously ill and so foreign policy was in the hands of his deputy, Anatoli Neratov. The Russian reply, delivered to Istanbul as well as Rome on 22 November, was to the effect that any interference with neutral shipping was a violation of Article III of the 1871 Treaty of London. Also protested was the strengthening of the Ottoman defences, which involved the placing of mines in the southern portion of the Dardanelles.

  When Sazanov resumed active control of the Foreign Ministry in December 1911 he immediately changed the policy of ‘indifference’ to a more pro-Italian approach, the emphasis being on improving relations with Italy in order to weaken her ties with the Triple Alliance. His first proposals were based on the Great Powers intervening with the Ottoman Empire in order to get her to accept the Italian conquest and annexation. This initiative, which was not taken up, was followed by others, also unsuccessful. Sazanov’s view with respect to the Italians blockading the Dardanelles was also benign at first. He knew that the Italians, for all that they were superior to the Ottomans in naval strength, did not have the ability to undertake sustained operations in the area; they were ‘the only power which could go there without staying there.’20 Indeed, Sazonov went further and encouraged the Italians. Giolitti’s memoirs record that the Italian ambassador to St Petersburg was told by Sazonov that ‘he would be happy if we did something that hit Turkey in a vital part, and we gave a good lesson to the Young Turks in order to reduce their unbearable arrogance.’21 That such an operation might sink or damage part of the Ottoman fleet was, for him, a bonus. Sazonov wanted an Italian victory, and a quick one at that, for several reasons. According to Bobroff’s analysis, these included the value of Italian friendship as a counterpoise to Austria-Hungary in the Balkans, and the possibility of using Italian penetration of the Straits as an excuse for demanding Russian access.22 However, Italy was not to mount any naval operations against the Dardanelles until April 1912, and then British and Russian policy was found to be rather at odds.

  If Russian policy was somewhat pro-Italian after December 1911, then events conspired to make that of France and Britain appear the opposite, at least to Italian popular opinion. The border between Egypt and Cyrenaica had never been accurately or officially delimitated; there had been little need as it ran through a region of seemingly little value. In 1907 this had been reiterated by Sir Edward Grey. He had been asked in Parliament whether he considered that a military position established at Sidi Barani, halfway between Sollum and Mersa Matru to prevent smuggling, would give rise to friction with the Ottoman garrison at Sollum. Further, would he advise the Egyptian government to enter negotiations ‘for the proper delimitation of the western frontier of Egypt.’ Grey confirmed the establishment of a ‘coastguard post’ but went on to state that there was ‘nothing in this act which renders delimitation necessary, or is likely to give rise to friction.’23

  Sollum (Solum, Sallum, as-Sallum) was a small town situated on the Bay of Sollum (Khalij as-Sallum), and the Ottoman Empire had claimed it since 1840. Supposedly, this had been established following the Convention of London of that year. Two maps detailing the border were drafted, and it was believed that one was destroyed during a fire in Egypt whilst the other, apparently in Istanbul, is believed to have disappeared. Arthur Silva White visited the area in 1898 and reckoned that he could pinpoint the boundary, but it was of almost academic interest and the exact whereabouts were, and remained, unknown.24

  British interest became heightened when the Italians declared a blockade of the coast of Ottoman territory. They notified the British on 3 October 1911 that this had been established between the Tunisian and Egyptian frontiers. This demarcation included the whole of the Bay of Sollum, and the British objected. Italy deferred to the objection, and the eastern extremity of the blockade was moved west to exclude Sollum on 25 October. The question remained somewhat hypothetical, but this changed following the Italian occupation of Tobruk when the possibility of Italy converting it into a naval base arose. A naval force based there would be able to dominate the adjacent coastline and local sea area, including the only other decent anchorage for several hundred kilometres at the Bay of Sollum. Accordingly, the logic went, if Italy had Tobruk then Britain, via Egypt, would have to have the use of Sollum.

  Italy was not popular with Egyptians at the time. Pier Luigi Grimani, the chargé d’affaires at the Italian embassy in Cairo, telegraphed San Giuliano on 17 November complaining of the hostile articles that appeared in the press there. This, he argued, had reached a stage where there was almost a competition amongst the newspapers concerning which could write the most antagonistic articles against Italy. He reckoned that the most popular papers were ‘those that demonstrate Italy as hostile and Turkey as victorious.’25 Nevertheless he liaised with the Egyptian Khedival government (effectively Lord Kitchener) on the subject, reporting on 19 November that he had communicated the ‘conditions imposed by Italy to accept the change.’ These were essentially minor, and related to adjustments in favour of Italy, or at least Cyrenai
ca, further inland that would be agreed in detail at a later date. The British Foreign Office issued a statement on the same day, stating that the Ottoman government had been informed in November 1904 that the line of the Egyptian frontier ran some 15 kilometres to the west of Sollum. This statement was also communicated to the Italian Government.

  There was an Ottoman garrison at Sollum, a fact that Grimani in a telegraph communication of 6 December considered an ‘embarrassment’ to Lord Kitchener given that Sollum was claimed by Egypt. However, the British government, to the intense annoyance of Italy, did not move to occupy Sollum until after it had negotiated the matter with the Ottoman government. Indeed, it was not until 15 December that the Ottoman Sultan announced that he had ceded the area to Egypt. Only then did an Anglo-Egyptian force relieve the Ottoman garrison, and on 9 January 1912 the cruiser HMS Suffolk anchored in the bay.26

  Officially, the Italian government underplayed the matter, preferring to remain on as friendly terms with Britain as possible. This was a wise move as one of the reasons given for the British/Egyptian occupation was the suppression of cross-border smuggling. This was successful to an extent, but resulted in the smuggled goods being routed further south. Indeed, shortly after the takeover a caravan of some 175 camels was able to cross into Cyrenaica carrying a large amount of contraband. Bennett records however that the Italian newspapers were ‘full of frenzied indignation’ at what they saw as British perfidy. He quoted one of the many outraged missives contributed to the press, which ‘came from the pen’ of Benedetto Cirmeni, a well-known journalist and parliamentary deputy:

  As Sollum is a part of Cyrenaica, over which Italy has proclaimed her full and complete sovereignty, how can Egypt and England accept it as a gift from the Sultan? What is the meaning of this incessant alteration of the Egyptian frontier to the detriment of Cyrenaica during the progress of the Turco-Italian War?