by Adel Beshara
This infighting, which Sa’adeh likened to the inter city-state conflicts of Italy, corresponded to the divisions of the diverse environment of the Fertile Crescent. Every part of that region pursued its own political aims because communication was difficult and the thinness of population aroused social suspicion. This situation was compounded by Syria’s geographical location as the frontier and meeting-point of the Near East and the West. Because of this, Syria has rarely known security. It has seldom had a central state of its own and its history has enjoyed only brief moments of independence.
Geographically, Sa’adeh regarded the Fertile Crescent as a single continuous plateau unimpeded by any significant internal barriers. He emphasized the two principal rivers that flow from the Armenian highlands: the Tigris and the Euphrates:
The rivers that flow forth from the arch of the northern mountains, in particular the two major rivers, the Tigris and Euphrates, in the big arc lying between the Taurus and Zagros, and from the mountains of Lebanon, render the valleys and plains situated between these mountains, seas and desert a fertile area abound in milk and honey.31
The “twin rivers” are but fifteen miles apart in their sources but soon diverge and pursue devious courses. The plain they enclose when they leave the mountain region is one of the most richly fertile plains on the earth. In Sa’adeh’s reasoning, the physical geography of the Fertile Crescent is largely dependent upon these two rivers: a view also shared by two contemporary historians of Iraq.
These twin rivers and the elaborate irrigation network which over many centuries has grown up around them, allow the designation “Fertile Crescent” to be extended from the Mediterranean coastal areas to include the Mesopotamian plains as well, notwithstanding the great expanse of desert that lies between the eastern and western segments of the Fertile Crescent.32
Sa’adeh also conjured up a wholly different version of the Syrian Desert and its place in Syria. The Syrian Desert, he claimed, is not a “mere desert”, but an area of settled cultivation desolated by the incursion of the Arabian Desert upon the lower arch of the Fertile Crescent. This incursion, which bears a striking resemblance to the current situation in North Africa, is attributed to human negligence and poor management of the natural resources. In turn, these are related to factors such as poverty, ignorance, misguided government policies, foreign invasions, and uncontrolled decline in population.33 Sa’adeh regarded this incursion as a cumulative historical problem and cautioned against its spread into other areas in Syria.34
While this new pattern of thinking might have surprised both sceptics and devoted nationalists, it should not have surprised those with some understanding of the region. Christina Phelps advanced a similar view independently in a separate study of the Syrian Desert. She noted:
The aspects of the Syrian Desert is a great surprise to many travelers; because the word desert is apt to conjure up a picture of golden sands blown into dunes, only less mobile than the sea. Whereas the traversable part of this particular desert is flat in appearance, like a vast undulating plain, and its color astonishes even those who have become accustomed to their variety. The plain is in part gravel-strewn; in part sand covered; and in part hard caked with whitish, glittering dried mud.35
Phelps concluded that, while some deserts divide countries and civilizations, others unite them: “The Syrian Desert is one of those which unites adjacent lands”.36
Sa’adeh highlighted the early history of the Syrian Desert and its physical variety, which, from early times, had allowed enterprising people to build towns and civilizations across its wide landscape.37 These towns served as halting-places for caravans travelling between the Mediterranean and Mesopotamia.38 Similarly, the remains of watercourses and cisterns in certain parts of the Syrian Desert provide evidence of the former existence of a great system of artificial irrigation.39 A nineteenth-century Christian missionary wrote:
The ground [of the Syrian Desert] is covered with small fragments of flint and limestone, through which a sickly grass tuft or half-withered weed here and there springs up. Not a tree, not a green shrub appears within the range of vision, and animal life is equally rare, for except chance throws in our way a troop of gazelles or a band of Bedawin, we travel for hours without seeing a living creature. Yet, desolate as the country is, we see traces of an ancient road, and at every few miles are the ruins of castles or caravanserais.40
Indeed, many Christian travelers’ notions of the Syrian Desert were modified considerably in the course of their journey across it.41
Ahead of his time, Sa’adeh called for the re-development of the Syrian Desert through a Syria-wide soil control strategy. He hoped that, with the application of new methods in land use rehabilitation, expanded local awareness and the creation of reliable institutions monitoring population growth and ecology would cause the wilderness to thrive again. Such a strategy, which depends almost entirely upon the supply of water (hence the need for the twin rivers), highlights the level and complexity of the environmental problem in the Fertile Crescent which, after many years of human neglect, has made the whole region look like a useless stretch of land without any purpose or historical significance.
On the western frontiers, the demarcation lines were extended to include the island of Cyprus. Cyprus was incorporated for historical and strategic reasons as well as for its expediency as a source of military and security strength.42 Any foreign control of it was deemed as a threat to Syria. Sa’adeh’s interest in Cyprus, though, was not purely because of its military value to Syria. In contrast, he spoke highly of the island and valued its people and heritage. He placed it on an equal footing with the states of mainland Syria and afforded it the same privileges and importance. What made Cyprus so vital for Sa’adeh was its close proximity to the mainland: so close that you “could hear the cry of a bird” from both ends of the coast.
In a way, Sa’adeh’s claim on Cyprus is similar to China’s demand over Taiwan. One could object to this analogy because China and Taiwan share a common language and were united at one stage, whereas Syria and Cyprus were a world apart in many different respects. However, on the other hand, just as China and Taiwan had a common history, the history of Cyprus and Syria are intertwined intrinsically. According to Stavros Panteli, historically, the Syrians had shown a definite interest in the Island (mainly for economic and security reasons).43 Another historian of Cyprus, Stanley Casson, remarked that a re-reading of Homeric history and the revelations of the Hittite texts from Boghaz Keui published in 1924 suggest that Cyprus was a secondary centre of Myceneaen development and a place of concentration for enterprises in Anatolia and Syria.44
According to Sa’adeh, the division of the Fertile Crescent into two separate parts, Mesopotamia and Bilad al-Sham, occurred during the Perso-Byzantine period of occupation. When a decisive victory for either side proved infeasible, the Byzantines extended their rule over the western part of the Crescent, which they continued to call “Syria”, while the Persians dominated the eastern part (Mesopotamia, or the land of Assyria and ancient Babylon) which they called “Irah”. This term was later Arabicized into Iraq.45 Naturally, this division retarded the evolution of a single Syrian personality for a long period, but it did not wholly efface it.
Fayez failed to see that the original text of Syria’s frontiers included part of Mesopotamia, but the borders west of it had not been clearly defined. He may not have known that Sa’adeh had been aware of this imperfection and that he postponed his investigation into it due to political pressure. The evidence suggests that Fayez was informed about the matter in 1947 during his long discussions with Sa’adeh. Two other factors should be mentioned: (1) Sa’adeh was under no obligation under the “contract” to confer with members over any amendment provided he did not tamper with the fundamentals of the Party’s ideology; and (2) the amendment did not breach the terms of the “contract” because it remained within the parameters of the original offer. Concerning this point, Sa’adeh noted:
An
y comparison between the reviewed text and the original one will show that the social nationalist cause and its teachings remained basically unchanged and that the revision completed the truth and saved it from sectional defects, which it did not escape in the first two editions because of my haste and the pressure from circumstances.46
It is very likely that Sayegh, who had been a particularly outspoken critic of impulsive union initiatives, such as King Abdullah’s Greater Syria Scheme and Nuri al-Said’s Fertile Crescent Plan, rejected Sa’adeh’s explanation because the amendments appeared to mimic these initiatives. Already, there were talks going around that the “idea of a Fertile Crescent union [popularized by Nuri al-Said’s Fertile Crescent Plan] appealed to Sa’adeh … as a slogan that could rally to the SSNP those elements which heretofore had resisted the party and its national doctrine”.47 Having dismissed King Abdullah’s Greater Syria Scheme and Nuri al-Said’s Fertile Crescent Plan as products of Hashemite intrigues motivated by territorial aggrandizement and hegemonic aspirations involving a tacit endorsement of British and Zionist interests in the region,48 Sayegh probably judged the ‘amendments’ as a step in the same direction. From a personal perspective, the revised definition of Syria’s borders was a blow to his credibility because, to some degree, it contradicted his own prior assessments and debunked his assumptions and alarmism.
All things considered, Fayez’s reservations concerning the amendments of 1947 do not stand up to close scrutiny. Most of the amendments were superficial. They either reaffirmed something that already existed or brought some aspects into greater focus and clarity. Their classification by Fayez as a “coup” is an exaggeration. The edition of the Party’s Aim and Program in which the amendments first appeared (and which Fayez himself drew on in writing Whither To?) was a fourth edition. This suggests that (1) the “Aim and Program” had been modified at least twice before and (2) its content was not static, as Fayez had assumed, but subject to review and revision. Naturally, the person who was responsible for this was Sa’adeh: its creator and sole reference.
An alternative way of looking at it is to imagine Fayez as a member of a Communist Party and Sa’adeh as Karl Marx: would Fayez have been entitled to object if Marx had suddenly decided to revise the Communist Manifesto because new facts had become known? Would Marx have first consulted with fellow Communists before conducting any revision? Surely not! Just as the Communist Manifesto belongs exclusively to Marx, likewise the doctrine of Syrian Social Nationalism belongs exclusively to Sa’adeh. Moreover, just as the right to adapt and adjust the Communist Manifesto belongs exclusively to Marx, likewise the right to adapt and adjust the doctrine of Syrian Social Nationalism belongs exclusively to Sa’adeh. As for the followers, they were free to accept the revised changes and stay put or to reject them and opt out.
3 THE PARTY’S NAME
Then there is the matter of the Party’s amended name, which Fayez inflated out of proportion:
It is an amendment that goes to the essence of the Party. It ... places at the heart of the party’s name its new philosophical conception, which is now part of its ideology and principles.
At least two issues are involved here: (1) the actual change of the Party’s name and (2) the implications implicit in the amended name. Concerning the first point, adding the word “Social” to the Party’s name can hardly be classified as a “coup”, because all it did was clarify the Party’s position along the philosophical spectrum. The “social” dimension added to the Party’s name was inherent in the Party’s ideology from the outset, but it was taken for granted rather than stated explicitly. Fayez’s mistake was assuming that this dimension, of which he was clearly aware, did not constitute a foundation for a philosophical system that ultimately involved a new outlook on life. Regarding the implications of the amended name, it had to do largely with the fact that adding “Social” formerly consecrated “social nationalism” as the official philosophy of the Party. Fayez resented deeply this prospect on the ground that marrying ideology with philosophy would create a totalitarian nightmare with little room for individual and philosophical freedom inside the Party. He may have inferred this from the havoc wreaked by single philosophy parties during World War II. However, for all its realism, Fayez’s contention is only partly convincing. It assumes that every ideological party that subscribes to a specific philosophy will develop signs and symptoms of totalitarian behavior or that every totalitarian party is, by necessity, grounded in a single philosophy or inimical to philosophical diversity. This is not necessarily the case. Most ideological parties avow themselves to a particular philosophy not for the purpose of totalitarian control or out of disrespect for philosophical freedom, but for the sake of internal unity.
If, on the other hand, Fayez’s objection to “Social” was because it constitutes a name change in itself, then why did Fayez not remonstrate in 1945 when the Party’s name was amended from the “Syrian Social Nationalist Party” to the “National Party”? Dropping “Syrian” from the Party’s name is more significant than adding “Social” to it. The appellation “Syrian” represents an important distinction: it is the incipiency of the Party and the mark of its character and identity.
4 TOTALITARIANISM
One of Fayez’s oft-repeated claims in Whither To? represents the third fundamental issue. Fayez stated that Sa’adeh, consciously or unconsciously, edged toward a totalitarian position by imposing his “personal philosophy” on the Party. Perhaps the most serious allegation of all, it is also the most simplistic. The allegation, at its most mature, involved a chain of inferences and assumptions informed by recent trends in contemporary Western theories on political leadership and control and by the harsh realities of European totalitarianism. Undoubtedly, Fayez’s exposure at the personal level to existential philosophy also played a significant part in shaping his attitude.
Fayez’s allegation centered on the perception that a totalitarian mindset would result if the Party’s ideology were predicated on a specific philosophy, let alone on the personal and private philosophy of its founder. He maintained that, since the Party did not adhere to a philosophical position from the beginning, embracing an exclusive philosophy now constituted another breach of the contract on which it was founded.
Technically, Fayez was right. At its founding, the Party did not lean toward any particular philosophy or espouse a world view. Its fundamental pillars rested on a sketchy ideology, organization, and politics rather than on philosophy. That much is true. However, a counter explanation to this should not be discounted hastily.
First, concerning the issue of “breach”, there is nothing in the “contract” that precludes the Party from formulating its own philosophy or from opening up to a new outlook on life. It is admissible as long as the adopted or formulated philosophy does not conflict with the central doctrine of the Party or contradict any part of its stated principles. The key to the legitimacy of the act rests not on the act itself but on the nature of the philosophy: that is, on whether or not it agrees with the Party’s vision as defined in its ideology. For example, let us assume that Sa’adeh had decided to enthrone National Socialism as the official philosophy of the Party. In this case, we can safely say that a “coup” and a “breach” had occurred because the contradictions with National Socialism, especially on the racial level, are too obvious to discount. The same principle would apply with any worldview incongruous with the Party’s outlook, whether it is Communism, Conservatism, Existentialism, or any other philosophy. The fact that Sa’adeh determined to ground the Party’s philosophy in the Party’s ideology renders Fayez’s claim even more inherently unreasonable.
Second, Fayez’s assumption that the Party lacked a philosophical outlook until Sa’adeh proclaimed one in 1947 is not entirely accurate. While it is true that the Party did not champion an exclusive philosophy at the beginning, its principles contained the seeds of a philosophical system based on the fullness of society. Eventually, Sa’adeh developed and accentuated this
system in his speeches and writings: defining not only its views on society and the individual, but also its position on an array of issues pertaining to religion, culture, literature, values, epistemology, and the high ideals of good, truth, and beauty. In Whither To?, Fayez conceded that snippets of Sa’adeh’s philosophical explications had reached him, but he continued to make the absurd claim that he considered them articulations of Sa’adeh’s personal views rather than a statement of an official attitude!
Third, Fayez’s allegation that Sa’adeh had imposed his own “personal” philosophy on the Party is fatally defective. A cursory review of Sa’adeh’s philosophical views, developed and expounded at different stages after 1938, reveals a position of total commitment to the central cause of the Party as the sole compass for his opinions and judgments. Every philosophical perspective Sa’adeh engaged in was related intimately to the Party’s ideology or forged into something palatable to it. As any individual, Sa’adeh had certain “personal” preferences in life, but no evidence suggests that he tried to impose them on the Party. For example, Sa’adeh was very fond of Beethoven and other classical composers, but he did not force this fondness on the Party. Likewise, he had definite views on love and marriage, but he kept them to himself. Fayez’s shortcoming was that he judged Sa’adeh’s philosophical views prematurely before subjecting them to close scrutiny. By doing so, not only did he make the mistake of unfairly accusing Sa’adeh of forcing his personal views on the Party, but also of jumping to the wrong conclusions. Nothing is more revealing regarding this than his claim that Sa’adeh’s foray into philosophy came about because of his philosophical altercations with party members, beginning with Fawzi Maluf in 1944. This is not only inaccurate, but also misleading. Sa’adeh’s involvement with philosophical issues began well before the Maluf case. It formed an essential part of his ideological discourse as early as 1934.
