In the last chapter, we discussed the increasing effectiveness of the imamâs strategy in the 1890s. His guerrillas had spread out throughout the region under Ottoman control, collecting taxes and summoning the Zaydi population to revolt. His soldiers engaged in highly effective hit-and-run tactics which were increasingly exhausting to the Ottoman troops.
Sophisticated modes of rebellion such as this required the Ottomans to modernize their methods of dealing with them. The first reaction of the Ottomans was to employ a strategy of âpunitive repression.â The military governor Ahmed Feyzi PaÅa used ruthless military and police methods designed to break the back of the resistance through armed force.
In terms of escalation toward total war, we can see that Feyzi PaÅaâs policies increasingly targeted the population at large, rather than just the imamâs soldiers. Atrocities against noncombatants are almost inevitable in unconventional warfare. Soldiers who cannot bring the elusive guerrillas to battle often take out their frustrations on the guerrillasâ relatives who live in the villages; and this war against civilians is an important factor in pushing âsmall warsâ upward on the continuum of violence toward total wars.
Likewise, Feyzi PaÅaâs repressive measures were firmly rooted in Sultan Abdülhamidâs policy of Pan-Islamism, an uncompromising ideology which affirmed the absolute power of the Ottoman sultan and his sole right to the leadership of the Muslim community. As we have noted in the last chapter, it was this ideology which made it impossible to compromise with the imam, thus pushing the conflict in Yemen toward total war.
Yet the Ottomans lacked the resources to make a policy of massive repression succeed, and the violence of Feyzi PaÅaâs regime intensified armed resistance by the Zaydis rather than subduing it. In consequence, the Ottomans would be forced to change their strategy once again; and Feyzi PaÅaâs successor would try to win the active support of the Yemenis, rather than simply suppressing their resistance.
1 The âUnity of Islamâ Policy, Repression, and Total War
In analyzing the dynamics of Ottoman repression, we will first discuss how Abdülhamid used Pan-Islamist thought to serve the ends of what we have
To ward off these challenges, modernizing autocrats have historically contrived ideologies of rule in which the prerogatives of absolutism and divine right coexist with some of the mass-mobilizing elements of modern nationalism. The autocrat may adopt a quasi-messianic role, in which his traditional role as absolute ruler endowed with the divine mandate and educated modernizer complement each other. It is he who has been chosen to lead the masses under his rule on the path toward civilization and national unity, so that they may take their rightful place among the great nations of the world. To accomplish his mission, his subjects owe him unquestioning obedience.
Such ideas implicitly justify the rulerâs use of his expanded military and police capability to crush dissent, both within the newly educated classes created by his regime and the âtraditionalâ groups hurt by his policies of monolithic centralization.1 Within this process, a loosening of customary restraints on the rulerâs exercise of force may take place. Aware of the insecurity of his position, the ruler increasingly resorts to violence to bolster his position. This, of course, results in the further erosion of his legitimacy, and further resort to violence. In places such as Iran, Ethiopia, and the Ottoman Empire, such rulers created a âtraditionâ of bureaucratized violence which was carried very much further by those who eventually overthrew them.2
Here, we intend to show how Abdülhamidâs âunity of Islamâ policy played this role in Yemen, serving to justify the suppression of the traditionally dominant groups of Zaydi society who had been hurt by his centralizing policies. First, we will briefly recapitulate the main tenets of this philosophy. Abdülhamid sought to outflank the appeal of ethnic nationalism (kavmiyet) by attempting to âmodernizeâ Islamic identity and give it some of the mass mobilizing appeal of modern nationalism.3 In this he was inspired by the Pan-Islamic ideas developed by the Young Ottomans, who in turn were influenced by Pan-Germanism
Under Abdülhamid, the religious identity of Islam became the religio-national one of Ä°slamiyet, stressing communal unity and loyalty to the state, and aimed at mobilizing the Muslim community to defend itself against the predatory nations of Europe.7 The Sunni Muslim duty (farz) of obedience (itaat) to legitimate authority thus became that of unquestioned loyalty to the Ottoman caliphate and the person of Abdülhamid. Such loyalty was referred to as âloveâ (mahabbet), and tied to a personality cult of Abdülhamid.8
These increasing demands on Muslimsâ loyalty, however, were not paralleled by an opening up of the political system. Muslim populations were, in fact, increasingly repressed and held at armsâ length. The dictatorial and proto-nationalist violence inherent in Abdülhamidâs concept of Ä°slamiyet likewise was not consistent with the moral underpinnings of Sunni political philosophy, even in its qualified support of absolutism. As a result, its actual role came to be that of legitimating the violence of the autocratâs policies for the ruling elite, which was charged with suppressing the rising opposition to the state on his behalf. Nowhere was this more apparent than among the Zaydis of Yemen, among whom loyalty to the Ottoman caliphate was qualified by the ideology of resistance to an unjust governing authority, and who did not have the tradition of Ottoman rule that most of the Sunni Arab regions had.
This is evident in a document of Feyzi PaÅaâs regime which contains the main justifications for the Ottomansâ war against the imam, a letter to al-Manṣūr written by the Ottoman envoy Sayyid Muḥammad al-ḤarÄ«rÄ« al-RifÄÊ¿Ä« al-HamÄwÄ«. First, the letter is a summons to the imam to submit, rather than an attempt to negotiate with him. Sayyid Muḥammad first takes issue with al-Manṣūrâs imamate, which constituted an implicit challenge to Abdülhamidâs claim to the leadership of the Muslim community. The descendants of the Prophet no longer have a legitimate claim on the leadership of the Muslim community, because it was not ordained in âthe will of Godâ (al-qadar) that the caliphate
Sayyid Muḥammad now goes on to enjoin obedience to the sultan in language reflecting the traditional Sunni political philosophy of submission to authority. Abdülhamid II is âthe guardian of the lands of the Muslims and the keeper of the ḥarÄm, the house of God ⦠he fills his council with the ulama, who carry out the decrees of the Creator, and applies himself with diligence to the duties (farÄʾiá¸) of religion and the customs (sunan) [of the Prophet].â10 The sultan thus fulfills the essential requirements of legitimacy in the Sunni political tradition, public maintenance of major Islamic ritual practices and moral principles,11 together with the actual power to protect the Muslim community. Therefore, âobedience to [the sultan] is a duty of religion (mafrÅ«á¸a) and service to him is lawful (mashrÅ«Ê¿a).â Conversely, âto rise up against him is dissent [from the consensus of the community] and aggressionâ (al-khurÅ«j alayhi baghy wa-Ê¿udwÄn).12
Several points are worthy of note here. First, there is an explicit recognition of the ideological character of the war in this letter, conceived within the traditional Sunni legal language of political authority. The war is described as a conflict between two claimants to the leadership of the Muslim community. The imam is described as being guilty of baghy, which in Islamic legal language means rebellion against the rightful imam with a religious or political basis.13
Second, it is clear from the language of the letter that there cannot be a power-sharing compromise between the rival claimants. The letter has the character of a call to the bughÄ, the rebels, to submit. Historically, such a call to submit was a legal requirement in Sunni Islam, before the state could proceed against rebels with military force.14 The rationale for obedience to the caliph given here, however, is defined in terms which derive partially from nineteenth century nationalism and partly from traditional beliefs about the necessity for the unity of the Muslims. Unity of the Muslims under the state that represents them is necessary to survive the murderous nationalist competition of the time. The times require the imam âto desist from such actionâ because the imperialist powers of Europe are constantly watching to exploit sedition within the Empire for their own ends. As a result, âthe hearts of the unbelievers have been gratifiedâ by the imamâs sedition.
In this letter, however, we see a marked departure from these specifically legal limits. Sayyid Muḥammad goes on to advise the imam that his baghy âhas necessarily caused the wrath of the sultan against you ⦠and he has taken an oath ⦠that if you do not keep within your proper bounds (lam taqif Ê¿inda ḥaddik) that he will kill you and those who follow you with the sword of your forefather [Muḥammad], because you have undertaken an affair which will destroy the pillars of religion, and excited the action of the people of wickedness (fasÄd).â17 Therefore, despite the fact that the imam is specifically accused only of baghy in the first half of the letter, he is to be kept within bounds by the punishment for fasÄd.
What we see in this letter, then, is a manipulation of the legal ideas historically associated with the Sunni Ottoman state to serve the proto-nationalist philosophy of Pan-Islamism, in such a manner as to justify unrestrained violence in quashing the Zaydi rebellion. Such legal restraints on the ruler as existed in the historic Sunni philosophy of government have been eroded for âreason of state,â although such reason is still defined in Islamic terms.
The reduction of the moral argument of the âunity of Islamâ policy to the simple sanction of force is made explicit in the final lines of Sayyid Muḥammadâs letter. âUpon my life, the Arabs have not the power to make war on the Sublime State under any circumstances but have dug for themselves the pits of punishment and destruction; for the soldiers of the government have descended on Yemen in numbers like the sands. May the Arabs fear God ⦠and may they be led toward obedience to God and his Prophet through their obedience to our Lord, the Commander of the Faithful.â18
This passage seems to finally lock the government into the policy of violence which the moral rhetoric of the letter has been gradually constructing. Up to this point, the conflict has been between the sultan and the imam as one
In short, the moral fortress constructed for the state by Sayyid Muḥammad in this letter is complete, and the guns are trained on the âArabsâ of Yemen. The power and absolute moral superiority of Abdülhamidâs regime render compromise with the imam, who claims a similar right to leadership of the Muslim community, impossible; and Abdülhamidâs duty as the protector of Islam requires him to make war on the imam until he submits or is completely destroyed. The âunity of Islamâ policy, like the nationalisms which it partially sought to imitate, thus became an ideology of total war.
2 Total War and Feyzi PaÅa
Feyzi PaÅa, a man who by the account of his contemporaries was irascible, authoritarian, and cynically corrupt,19 was ideally suited to implement this strategy. Feyzi PaÅa set out to eradicate the insurgency in Yemen by main force, relying on police and counter-guerrilla techniques. War in Yemen therefore began to lose its archaic character as a negotiation by intermittent violence of the boundary between state and tribal power. Instead, it became closer to Clausewitzâ âidealâ war, that is, an uncompromising contest of wills focused on the absolute subjugation of the enemy.
We may describe Feyzi PaÅaâs policy as one of âpunitive repression,â as opposed to the softer methods of âhearts and mindsâ counterinsurgency. As developed by a series of colonial military strategists from Bugeaud to Trinquier, âpunitive repressionâ is based on three major principles. First, insurgency is viewed primarily as a military problem, and therefore priority is given to dealing with its military aspects. Second, the use of harsh measures such as the destruction of villages, crops, and livestock is approved as a means of cowing the population into submission.20 Third, the organizational network of the insurgency is crushed by means of forceful police measures. These may include mass arrests, the creation of an extensive intelligence network, and interrogation with torture.21
A government which employs this kind of strategy must have the military power and the resources to bring continuous force to bear in all sectors of a restive society for an extended period of time. This requires a massive investment in manpower, intelligence, and infrastructure. In this context, the appalling dynamics of racism and repression may ultimately result in the destruction of the social base of the guerrillas through deportation or genocide. The French suppression of Ê¿Abd al-QÄdir was essentially based on these kinds of measures, as was the crushing of the SanÅ«siyya insurgency in Libya by the Italian fascist government.23
It has often happened, however, that policies of a punitive and repressive character have been undertaken by governments without the military or financial resources to sustain them. Where these are lacking, repressive policies can result in the rapid rise of armed opposition which quickly outstrips the ability of the state to suppress. In this case, the state often cannot stabilize the situation even temporarily. The fiercer the repression, the fiercer the resistance, so that the state sinks ever deeper into a morass of violence which threatens its very existence.
This was what happened in Yemen during Feyzi PaÅaâs tenure as governor. Viewing the situation in Yemen primarily as a military problem, he devoted the bulk of the administrationâs limited resources toward strengthening the position of the Seventh Army vis-Ã -vis the rebels. His major objective was to prevent the rebel bands from gaining a permanent foothold in Ottoman territory. To do this, he implemented a strategy based on both static defense and active engagement.
The construction of new fortifications was the key aspect of static defense. These fortifications had two purposes: to reduce the vulnerability of the Ottoman lines of communication in the event of rebellion, and to provide a network of military posts which the rebel bands would find difficult to slip through. The Ottoman garrisons in the highlands were dependent on the continuous flow of supplies from the port of Ḥudayda to á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ, and Feyzi PaÅa realized that keeping this route open was the key to maintaining control in Yemen.
In this manner, Feyzi PaÅa sought to ensure that the Ottoman forces would enjoy an improved defensive position in the event of another uprising. The construction of fortifications, however, was not confined to the major lines of communication. Feyzi PaÅa also greatly increased the number of military posts throughout the whole region under Ottoman control âto prevent the bandits from spreading into the interior of the country.â26 The posts were thus to serve as a means of observing and checking the movements of the imamâs Ê¿iá¹£ÄbÄt.
This, then, was the static defense aspect of Feyziâs policy. Active engagement involved the employment of mobile columns which were to engage the Ê¿iá¹£ÄbÄt in battle. In the summer of 1894, for example, the imam sent an Ê¿iá¹£Äba of 300 men to enter Ottoman territory from the region of al-ḤadÄʾ to the east. As a result of timely instructions to the Commandant of DhamÄr, however, troop units were dispatched to al-ḤadÄʾ; and fearing attack by these units, the rebels withdrew into the desert to the east.27
The use of posts and mobile columns does not appear to have been implemented as anything like the systematic strategy envisioned by thinkers such as Callwell or Trinquier. These men envisioned a massive investment of resources to cover a given territory with a network of military posts and to send out mobile columns to systematically hunt down the guerrilla bands. Rather, Feyzi PaÅaâs strategy appears to have been primarily reactive in nature.
The Ottoman forces were spread out across the country to deal with the guerrillas as best they could, because it was never known where they would appear; and mobile columns were dispatched against guerrillas whenever news of their appearance in a given region came, in maneuvers that appear as primarily defensive in nature. The military thinkers who have developed systematic strategies of posts and mobile columns stress, by contrast, aggressive
The Ottomans never had the resources to do this. Upper Yemen, which effectively constituted the base area of the imam, remained outside the control of the government. In consequence, the initiative remained with the imam, and the policy of suppressing the revolt militarily could never be carried to its logical conclusion. At the strategic level, operations against the Ê¿iá¹£ÄbÄt in the south could only constitute a defensive holding action, as long as the army could not strike decisively at the imamâs capability to organize these bands in the first place.
Similar points could be made with regard to the question of the Ottomansâ use of repressive violence in Yemen. It is very difficult for a government that relies on main force to suppress insurgency to succeed without massive police control and the destruction of the social base of the guerrillas. Force applied as intermittent brutality rather than sustained pressure will tend simply to drive the population into the arms of the guerrillas. Apart from the basic immorality and short-sightedness of any repressive policy, this was the main problem with Feyzi PaÅaâs strategy.
The military operations were conducted with little regard for the well-being of the civilian population. Often, the peasants were punished harshly for real or assumed collaboration with the enemy. When the Ê¿iá¹£ÄbÄt occupied a fortified village and gave battle, the Ottoman units typically sought to drive them out with massive artillery fire. This, of course, had disastrous consequences for the property of the inhabitants. If the Ê¿iá¹£ÄbÄt left before the arrival of the Ottoman troops, the latter would burn the village.29 Such measures resulted in substantial disruption of Zaydi rural society without its outright destruction. The Ottomans made themselves unpopular and supplied the guerrillas with willing collaborators at the same time.
The imamâs guerrillas, moreover, were usually recruited from the ḤÄshid and BakÄ«l tribes outside Ottoman control; and these tribes remained largely untouched. Destroying the social base of the guerrillas in this context would have entailed the extension of Ottoman control to Upper Yemen, and deportation or internment of the tribes there. This was not done, although such a measure was proposed by an Ottoman officer in 1900.30
Such policies were reflected in Feyzi PaÅaâs regime in Yemen. As stated, the existence of the imamate constituted an explicit challenge to Abdülhamidâs claim to the caliphate. No compromise, therefore, was possible; the imamâs political influence was to be eradicated from Ottoman territory in Yemen. Feyzi PaÅa thus began a program of mass arrests designed to wipe out the imamâs network of political supporters. Anyone suspected of collaboration with the imam was imprisoned, whether the evidence warranted it or not.
This program was begun toward the end of 1892, shortly after Feyzi PaÅa returned from an expedition to Upper Yemen. At this time, Abdülhamid issued an order to the effect that the names of the Zaydi military chieftains (reisler) and religious propagandists (müctehidler) should be supplied to the central government, with a view to their exile from Yemen. Upon this, Feyzi PaÅa undertook to arrest a number of shaykhs, sayyids, and qadis on the suspicion that they had links with the imam.32 This action inaugurated a period of severe repression which lasted until his departure from office in 1898.
For these years, al-WÄsiÊ¿Ä« complains that the people of á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ were âgreatly oppressedâ (fÄ« áºulm shadÄ«d) by the governmentâs brutal and indiscriminate police measures. The colonel of the gendarmerie regiment in Yemen, Mirza Bey, was particularly notorious in this regard; and in one year âno day passed without [Mirza] beating and imprisoning a number of people.â33
As with the military operations in the countryside, such policies involved the employment of indiscriminate violence without the reserves of force necessary to suppress the inevitable reaction. In response to Feyzi PaÅaâs oppression, bands of partisans began to carry out acts of âterrorâ in á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ and other towns, blowing up government buildings and occasionally killing soldiers.
Since the Ottoman administration did not have a large police force to maintain control of the capital, soldiers who were urgently needed for military operations had to be kept in garrison there. In 1898, Feyzi PaÅa reported that he could he could only send a limited number of troops from á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ to deal with the rebellion in the countryside because the âpeople [of the city] ⦠would rise upâ if the garrison there was weakened.35
This was the situation in the capital. In the countryside, it was worse. In July 1894, the mutasarrıf of Ḥudayda reported to the grand vizier that the shaykhs and people of Yemen were going over to the imam âin drovesâ (fevc fevc) on account of the tyranny of the governor of Yemen.36 Guerrilla war intensified in the region south of á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ, and uprisings broke out in the west and northwest as well.
Feyzi PaÅa thus succeeded in driving the Zaydi population into the arms of the rebels without doing much injury to the organization of the latter or extending the control of the government in an effective manner. In consequence, the military situation became more and more difficult for the government to control.
The problem was exacerbated by the poverty and corruption of Feyzi PaÅaâs administration, together with the poor communications of Yemen. Soldiers were regularly defrauded of their pay and rations by higher officers. Walter Harris, who traveled to Yemen shortly after its reconquest by Feyzi PaÅa, noted the contrast between the living conditions of the high officials and the troops in his description of the sights of á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ. âAgain it is some ill-fed, ill-clothed Turkish soldier, ⦠with his face unshaven and sunk with illness; and as one is still watching him, there rattles past a shabby victoria, in which is seated some fat Pasha or Bey ⦠and one knows that as often as not, his clothes, his carriage, and his horse are bought with the money that ought to feed the soldiers, for but a small proportion of the pay of the troops ever reaches them.â37
Even had the command of the Seventh Army been honest, however, the poor communications of Yemen rendered the distribution of supplies among
It proved impossible under these circumstances to keep the Ottoman soldiers alive among the abundant microbes of Yemen, much less healthy. The death rate from illness was very high among the Ottoman troops. Cholera plagues periodically decimated the ranks of the soldiers. In the Hijri year 1310 (1892â3), there was a major cholera epidemic in Yemen, so that âmany [of the Ottoman troops] died, until only a few were left.â39 One Ottoman officer estimated that by the end of Feyzi PaÅaâs tenure as governor, the strength of the army in Yemen had dwindled to about 8,000 men as a result of cholera.40
The year of the first cholera epidemic was also the year in which Feyzi PaÅa put the more repressive aspects of his program into effect. The paÅa was thus enforcing increasingly violent policies with what was, in all likelihood, a steadily decreasing number of troops. As the Ottoman soldiers were being decimated by cholera, the numbers of the Ê¿iá¹£ÄbÄt were increasing as a result of drought.41
Raiding in the south was a traditional means of survival for the northern tribesmen when they could not cultivate their fields, and the imam had enough reserves in grain and cash to pay them to do it. When we consider that deep-rooted insurgencies in the twentieth century have taken hundreds
3 The Rebellion of 1898
The steadily rising tide of unrest culminated in a major uprising of the tribes of the ḤajÅ«r region and of ḤÄshid and BakÄ«l in 1898.43 ḤajÅ«r is a mountainous, coffee growing region in the northwest highlands, and its social and tribal structure seems to be incompletely understood. The sources mention the tribes of BanÄ« Jill, Aflaḥ, Aslam and NawsÄn as being important tribes of that region. The events of this rebellion would prove them to be tough fighters against the Ottoman forces.
The chief garrison of this region was the citadel of Qufl. Built by an Ottoman military engineer, the citadel had six fortified military posts surrounding it. The citadel was meant to guard the Ḥajūr region from an attack coming from the region outside government control,44 and presumably also to maintain some level of control over the local tribes. At the time of the rebellion Qufl was under the command of Major Bahattin Efendi.
The immediate cause of the rebellion was a tax-collecting expedition undertaken by Bahattin Efendi in the territory of the BanÄ« Jill tribe, an area where there were no government military posts.45 According to RüÅtü, Bahattin Efendi had come to an agreement with the shaykh of BanÄ« Jill for his aid in collecting taxes from his tribesmen, in return for which he would get a share of the taxes. According to al-IryÄnÄ«, however, the shaykh, YaḥyÄ ibn NÄá¹£ir al-ImÄm, was already intriguing with the imam to undertake the jihad on the imamâs behalf.46
As al-IryÄnÄ« tells it, the spark of rebellion was ignited when a tribesman of BanÄ« Jill, angered by the Ottoman forceâs confiscation of his grain, attacked the Ottoman force with the shaykhâs encouragement; and upon this the âcommon peopleâ (al-Ê¿Ämma) rose up and killed several of the Ottoman soldiers.47 Whatever the truth of this story, there can be no doubt that the tax-collecting
A fierce battle subsequently took place on 26 January 1898 in which Bahattin Efendi was either killed or wounded and taken captive, depending on whether you believe al-IryÄnÄ« or RüÅtü.48 The Ottoman force subsequently retreated to Bayt Ê¿AlbÄs, Bayt al-QarwÄ«, and al-Wasaá¹-presumably fortified villages in BanÄ« Jill-and the tribesmen of BanÄ« Jill surrounded them on all sides. Outmanned and outgunned, the Ottoman soldiers asked for the aman (that is, a promise of safe conduct in return for surrender). When they went out of the villages, however, the tribesmen fell on them, killed many and took some captive, and seized several hundred Martini-Henry rifles.49
News of this battle spread quickly and galvanized the Arabs, and it looked like the Ottoman government might have another major rebellion on its hands. The total number of Ottoman troops in Yemen had sunk to 8,000 men and Feyzi PaÅa did not have enough troops to mount a major punitive expedition.50
What Feyzi PaÅa did, then, was to prepare a force of five battalions under the command of RaÅid PaÅa,51 which were assembled from the troops in the Tihama.52 His orders to RaÅid PaÅa stated explicitly that he was not to go up into the mountains but remain at their foot, making a show of force (irae-i satvet) on the one hand, and attempting to solve the problem peacefully on the other.53 Feyzi PaÅa himself had written to the BanÄ« Jill tribesmen stating that the government had pardoned their killing of the Ottoman soldiers and would only take punitive action if the captured weapons were not returned.54
RaÅid PaÅa, however, did not obey his orders, but pushed deep into the ḤajÅ«r region to its chief garrison in Qufl.55 He adopted an aggressive policy and attacked the tribe of BanÄ« Jill.56 Meanwhile, the BanÄ« Jill and the people of the Sharafayn region in ḤajÅ«r had written to the imam asking for a maqdamÄ« to lead them against the Ottoman force. Accordingly, the imam sent to them the Sayf al-IslÄm Muḥammad ibn al-ImÄm al-HÄdÄ«, with the purpose of uniting the people of Sharaf against the Ottomans.57
What seems to have decided the battle in the rebelsâ favor was the deadly aim of the Yemeni marksmen when firing at close quarters. The artillery was set up close to the house where the leaders of the rebels were. According to al-IryÄnÄ«, none of the shells actually hit the house, but those firing from the house hit the Ottoman officers.60 According to RüÅtü, the other tribes of Sharaf, including the BanÄ« Aslam and AflÄḥ tribes, joined the battle when they heard the sound of artillery fire.61 Al-IryÄnÄ«, giving a slightly different version of these events, says that these men had taken up positions in the wadis to await the outcome of the battle. The battle continued until evening, with the rebels intending to fight until nightfall and then flee, in accordance with the guerrilla tactics of the Arabs.62
According to RüÅtü, the rebels were on the point of fleeing when some of the Ottoman soldiers, unnerved by the loss of their officers, began to retreat; and this caused panic and flight among the rest of the force.63 RüÅtü likewise states that the broken terrain and thick coffee forests of BanÄ« Jill made it impossible to keep the Ottoman force under the strict control of the commanding officer.64 Al-IryÄnÄ« states that the rebels were on the point of flight when they saw that the Ottoman soldiers were attempting to remove their guns before nightfall, and taking advantage of this moment of vulnerability, launched an attack against them.65 Apparently the Ottoman soldiers then panicked and took to their heels.
As the Ottoman soldiers were scattering in the broken terrain the Arabs who had taken up their positions in the wadis then fell on them and killed them, in spite of the fact that the Ottoman soldiers threw down their weapons in the hope that this would save them. The rebels then took the rifles and the artillery pieces that the Ottoman soldiers had abandoned. RüÅtü gives the Ottoman
After this battle the Ottoman force fell back on the fortified strong points of BanÄ« MadÄ«kha, the chief strong point of Qufl Shamir, and ShÄhil.67 After this there was a general uprising of the âbandits,â68 and the imam sought to seize all the strong points of the ḤajÅ«r region, with the ultimate purpose of taking control of all the highlands and driving the Ottomans down to the Tihama.69 The Ottomans lost territory in the ḤajÅ«r region as the strong points of ShÄhil, Qaryat al-Faṣīḥ and some important military posts were seized by the rebels.70
In May 1898 the ḤÄshid and BakÄ«l tribal confederations wrote to the imam asking him to organize them to wage the jihad.71 The imam feared that they were motivated by the hope of easy plunder rather than a desire to serve God, but nonetheless he sent two maqÄdima to lead them into battle, appointing the sayyid and Ê¿Älim á¹¢afÄ« al-IslÄm Aḥmad ibn QÄsim ḤamÄ«d al-DÄ«n over ḤÄshid, and the sayyid Sayf al-IslÄm Muḥammad ibn al-Mutawakkil Ê¿alÄ AllÄh over BakÄ«l.
ḤÄshid assembled in Khamir, the chief town of their territory, on 29 May 1898.72 BakÄ«l assembled with their maqdamÄ« Ê¿Izz al-IslÄm in RijÄm,73 a wadi seventeen kilometers northeast of á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ.74 Both forces then proceeded to advance southward. Hearing that the new governor Hüseyin Hilmi PaÅa was in Matna, a town on the road from Ḥudayda to á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ, ḤÄshid advanced against that town, believing that they would obtain easy plunder thereby.75
The Ottoman troops were outside their fortifications when the ḤÄshid force arrived; but some of the tribesmen fired their rifles prematurely, and the soldiers were able to enter their fortifications and take up their positions before ḤÄshid could fall on them. As a result, ḤÄshid got hard knocks instead of the easy plunder they were expecting. Fighting continued for four days, and when
The BakÄ«l force marched on al-Rawá¸a, a town just north of á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ. Even before they came to al-Rawá¸a, however, their discipline began to break down, and their forces to disperse.77 Despite this, they were able to seize al-Rawá¸a and take captive Shaykh Muqbil ibn á¹¢Äliḥ Dughaysh, a partisan of the Ottomans. After the seizure of al-Rawá¸a an Ottoman force advanced from á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ and garrisoned ShuÊ¿Å«b,78 a suburb of á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ to the north.79 The BakÄ«l force fought and defeated them, driving them back to á¹¢anÊ¿Äʾ. The next day, however, Feyzi PaÅa advanced against them with soldiers and artillery, and the Arabs were defeated and fled.80 The united uprising of ḤÄshid and BakÄ«l thus came to an end, although guerrilla war against the Ottoman forces continued.
The failure of the uprising was due not only to the poor discipline of the ḤÄshid and BakÄ«l tribesmen but also to timely action by Feyzi PaÅa after the Ottoman defeats in the ḤajÅ«r region. Feyzi PaÅa requested a regiment from the Hejaz and when it arrived, sent two battalions of this regiment to ḤajÅ«r, ordering the commander of the ḤajÅ«r region Ahmed PaÅa to keep these troops in a defensive position. Likewise, the 14th Sharpshooter Battalion was sent to ḤajÅ«r. In consequence, there were enough forces to defend the strong points in ḤajÅ«r that were still in Ottoman hands, costing the rebels casualties in their attempts to take them.81 Similarly, Feyzi PaÅa took care to keep the powerful paramount shaykh of ḤÄshid, NÄá¹£ir MabkhÅ«t al-Aḥmar on the Ottoman side.82 Feyzi PaÅa had previously managed to win the shaykh over to the Ottoman side after the 1891 rebellion,83 and this was probably one of the reasons that ḤÄshidâs rebellion ended so quickly.
In analyzing these events, we can see that the reason for the initial success of the rebels was the Ottomansâ lack of sufficient manpower. We have noted the mass deaths of Ottoman soldiers that took place during Feyzi PaÅaâs tenure as governor and the subsequent reduction in the numbers of the Seventh Army. Yemen was a manpower sink for the Ottomans at a time when they had
Second, we can see that one reason for the outbreak of the rebellion in the ḤajÅ«r region was that the people of that region experienced the Ottoman government as rapacious and oppressive. We have recounted al-IryÄnÄ«âs story of the man whose grain the Ottoman force had confiscated, and who subsequently ignited the rebellion by attacking the Ottoman force. Al-IryÄnÄ« tells another story of a woman who, aggrieved by the loss of her cow to the Ottomans, flung a stone at the captive Bahattin Efendiâs head.84 These stories may be apocryphal, but they provide insight into how the Ottoman government was viewed in the territories it controlled. And Feyzi PaÅa made no attempt to moderate the violence of the government; he was a tough and capable soldier, not a humanitarian. And if Ottoman tax collection was experienced as violent and oppressive, it was also an intermittent violence which aroused resistance but could not crush it. There were no Ottoman soldiers stationed in BanÄ« Jill itself, and hence Bahattin Efendiâs force had no support when the BanÄ« Jill tribesmen rose up against it.
The rebellion failed, however, to turn into the general uprising and expulsion of the Ottomans that the imam wanted. RüÅtü attributed this to timely action by Feyzi PaÅa in requesting more troops and putting them in a defensive position (tedafüî bir vaziyette) in ḤajÅ«r.85 What this probably means is that the garrisons in the fortified posts in ḤajÅ«r were strengthened without an attempt to engage the rebels in open battle. The fortifications and artillery of the Ottoman military posts gave them an advantage over the rebels in siege warfare, since the rebels possessed no artillery. The failure of the ḤÄshid forces to surprise the Ottoman force in Matna when it was outside of its fortifications led to a grueling four-day battle which the ḤÄshid tribesmen were ultimately unable to stomach.86
This standoff demonstrated the limitations of Ottoman power in Yemen and the impossibility of permanently subduing the tribes of the country by force. Despite the imamâs failure to turn the uprising of 1898 into a general rebellion, it demonstrated what had been growing increasingly clear in the past several years, that Feyzi PaÅaâs policies had made the country ungovernable. The uprising thus marked the failure of Feyzi PaÅaâs policy of punitive repression. In consequence, Feyzi PaÅa was deposed; and his successor, Hüseyin Hilmi PaÅa, would implement softer policies designed to gain the voluntary support of the Yemenis.
4 Conclusion
In sum, the repressive measures implemented by Feyzi PaÅa were an attempt to contain the threat posed by the imamâs increasingly effective guerrilla tactics. His strategy was rooted in Hamidian absolutism and the proto-nationalist ideology of the âunity of Islamâ policy; and as in other societies where quasi-nationalist ideas shore up traditional authoritarianism, the result was increasing violence by the state and the intensification of internal conflict. This, together with the use of âmodernâ or nineteenth century techniques of military repression, directed often against civilians, led to a further progression of the conflict in Yemen toward total war. Feyzi PaÅaâs strategy was ineffective, however, because the Ottoman government could not deploy the massive resources necessary to make repressive policies succeed. Violence angered the Zaydis without subduing them.
Feyzi PaÅaâs successor Hüseyin Hilmi PaÅa would thus try radically different methods of suppressing the Zaydisâ revolt. There was no change in the stated
For academic analyses of modernizing autocracies in Iran and Ethiopia, see Said Amir Arjomand, Turban 59 ff.; Lata, Ethiopian state 155 ff.; and Tibebu, Making 106 ff. For literary works exploring the social consequences of repression and alienation under these regimes, see Baraheni, Crowned cannibals 99â130; and KapuÅciÅski, Emperor 47, 99.
Ervand Abrahamianâs Tortured Confessions, for example, documents the steady increase in the violence and sophistication of the Iranian prison and torture system from the time of Reza Shah to the Islamic Republic.
Karpat, Politicization 321 ff.
Mardın, Genesis 60â1.
Aydın, Politics 59â69.
Karpat, Politicization 153â4.
Karpat, Politicization 321 ff.; Mehmed Emin PaÅa, Yemen 6â8 (my pagination).
Mehmed Emin PaÅa, Yemen 7 (my pagination).
Al-Washalī, Dhayl 43.
Ibid.
Lewis, Political 99.
Al-Washalī, Dhayl 43.
Khadduri, War 77â9.
Ibid.; Lewis, Political 81â2.
Khadduri, War 77â9; Lewis, Political 81â2.
Lewis, Political 81.
Al-Washalī, Dhayl 44.
Al-Washalī, Dhayl 45.
Ahmed Izzet PaÅa, Feryadım I, 39.
See Callwell, Small wars 144â8.
Trinquier, Modern warfare 21â3, 31â40, 43â51.
Callwell, Smal wars 131â42.
Danziger, Abd al-Qadir 9; Ahmida, Making 137â40.
Al-WashalÄ«, Dhayl 41. The chronicler mistakenly attributes this program of fortification to Feyziâs immediate predecessor Hasan Edip PaÅa.
Al-WÄsiÊ¿Ä«, TÄrÄ«kh 154.
BBA, Y.Mtv 182/39 6 AÄustos 1314/18 August 1898. Memorial (tahrirat) from Abdullah PaÅa to the Minister of War.
BBA, Y.A. Res. 71/48 16 Haziran 1310/28 June 1894. Minutes (mazbata) of the Administrative Council of the Province of Yemen, sent to the Council of Ministers (Meclis-i Vükela).
See Trinquier, Modern warfare 81â6.
BBA, Y.Mtv 182/39 6 AÄustos 1314/18 August 1898. Memorial (tahrirat) from Abdullah PaÅa to the Minister of War.
Y.Mtv 204/44 23 Haziran 1316/6 July 1900. Report (layiha) from the General Staff Colonel Hüseyin Remzi Bey to the Palace.
Georgeon, Abdülhamid 263â70.
Al-WÄsiÊ¿Ä«, TÄrÄ«kh 155â6.
Al-WÄsiÊ¿Ä«, TÄrÄ«kh 158.
Al-WÄsiÊ¿Ä«, TÄrÄ«kh 159; BBA, Y.Mtv 99/37 4 Muharrem 1312/8 July 1894. Note from the Minister of War to the Yıldız Palace.
BBA, Y.Mtv 178/72 25 Mayis 1314/6 June 1898. Telegram from Feyzi PaÅa to the Minister of War.
BBA, Y.Mtv 99/37 4 Muharrem 1312/8 July 1894. Note from the Minister of War to the Grand Vizier.
Harris, Journey 317â18.
BBA, Y.Mtv 180/35 9 Temmuz 1314/21 July 1898. Telegram from the Commandant of the Seventh Army (Abdullah PaÅa) to the Minister of War.
Al-WÄsiÊ¿Ä«, TÄrÄ«kh 155.
Atıf PaÅa, Yemen II, 172.
Reports from the authorities in Yemen indicate that drought facilitated the recruitment of volunteers for the Ê¿iá¹£ÄbÄt. See BBA, Y.Mtv 99/37 13 Haziran 1310/25 June 1894. Telegram from Feyzi PaÅa to the Minister of War.
The Algerian insurrection took about 400,000 troops to suppress. See OâBallance, Algerian insurrection 215.
BBA, Y.Mtv 178/72 25 Mayıs 1314/6 June 1898. Telegram from Feyzi PaÅa to the Minister of War.
RüÅtü, Yemen 80.
Ibid.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 486.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 487.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 487â8; RüÅtü, Yemen 81.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 488.
RüÅtü, Yemen 81.
Ibid.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 489.
RüÅtü, Yemen 81.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 488.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 489.
RüÅtü, Yemen 82.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 489.
Ibid.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 493.
Ibid.
RüÅtü, Yemen 82.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 493.
RüÅtü, Yemen 82.
Ibid.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 493.
RüÅtü, Yemen 82.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 495.
RüÅtü, Yemen 82.
RüÅtü, Yemen 83.
RüÅtü, Yemen 82â3.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat II, 5â6.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat II, 8.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat II, 11.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat II, 11, n. 4.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat II, 9.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat II, 10.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat II, 12.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat II, 14.
Al-Maqḥafī, Muʻjam 358.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat II, 14.
RüÅtü, Yemen 83â4.
RüÅtü, Yemen 84.
RüÅtü, Yemen 107â8.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat II, 488.
RüÅtü, Yemen 83.
Al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat II, 10.
RüÅtü, Yemen 82â3; al-IryÄnÄ«, SÄ«rat I, 500â1.