Chapter X: British Rule in Egypt

At the inauguration of the Nile Reservoir at Assouan, it was an Egyptian Minister of Public Works who read an Arabic speech congratulating the Khedive on the completion of the great work which is to make his name famous among the rulers of Egypt. Among all the flags that decorated the town and the craft on the river, the most infrequent was that of England. A casual observer, knowing nothing of the country, might easily have overlooked the number of Englishmen wearing the tarbush, that red badge of Egyptian officialdom, and gone away thinking that even the presence of the brother of the King of England marked nothing but a compliment paid by one great Power to another. He might well have been astonished to be told that the Dam, which will confirm and increase the prosperity of Egypt, is no less an evidence of the stability of British rule. It is just possible that immediately after our first occupation we might have been able to evacuate the country—not, indeed, without danger to our hold upon the highroad to India, or without detriment to the true interests of Egypt, but at least without loss of honour to ourselves. Since then, in spite of the efforts of our statesmen at home, it has become more and more impossible.

Among the guests at Assouan there might have been seen a quiet-looking old gentleman, with a gray beard and bushy whiskers, beaming benevolently through gold-rimmed spectacles. His figure was that of a man, once sturdy and square-set, over whose head had passed years of ease and good living. At the first glance, in his frock-coat and tarbush, he looked like any other comfortable Turkish gentleman. Yet there was no one present with a more interesting past than he. For this was Mukhtar Pasha, who bears the proud title of Ghazi, ‘the victorious,’ the hero of the Caucasus in the Russo-Turkish War. He came to Egypt in 1887 as special Turkish Commissioner, to arrange for the British evacuation under the Drummond-Wolff Convention. It is well known how France and Russia at the last moment intervened to prevent Turkey from ratifying the agreement. A special Providence guards the British Empire against the efforts of its rulers. But Mukhtar remains as Turkish Commissioner in Egypt without duties, and probably without pay, a reminder of past eccentricities of British policy.

We have travelled far from the days when it was seriously proposed by Conservative statesmen to make Turkey responsible for civilization and good government in Egypt. To-day no one in his senses could wish to put an end to British rule. Let a man start from Assouan and survey the great series of irrigation works—the Reservoir, the Assiout Barrage, the Regulator of the Ibrahimiyah Canal, the Koshesha Regulator, the Barrages and Weirs at the point of the Delta and at Zifta; let him examine the intricate system of canals, siphons, wheels, drains, dykes, and sluices, by which the water is distributed over the cultivated lands, and let him reflect on what would happen if all this were left in Egyptian hands. Inevitably, sooner or later, the whole thing would come to ruin, and the greater the height of prosperity to which the country has attained under the system of perennial irrigation, the greater would be its fall. Egypt has been called the classic land of baksheesh, and it will not lose its character in a generation or two. Imagine a Government in need of money; what better thumbscrew could an Oriental despot wish for than the command of the water-supply? When a land-owner knew that he could be ruined by the shutting of a sluice-gate, he would pay anything without a struggle. The golden goose would be killed in every direction. Even under a well-intentioned Government it would only be regarded as natural for a local official to make free use of such unrivalled opportunities to supplement his pay. Corruption is not a vice in Oriental eyes; it is the habit of centuries. That is why, with every extension of scientific irrigation, the need for European supervision becomes greater, and since we can allow no Power but ourselves to hold Egypt, European means British.

An amusing instance of the native way of looking at such matters occurred in connection with the making of the Reservoir. A certain sum was allotted for the compensation of those who would be flooded out of house and home. Some of the Assouan people saw their chance. It does not take much to build a native house. In a short time the Government inspectors had the pleasure of being shown a number of brand-new buildings on the foreshore, with the whitewash still wet upon them. Great was the disappointment of these ingenious speculators. In another case a man was building a boat; he was repeatedly warned to move his work, but would not. Only when the water began actually to rise did he become seriously alarmed, and sent down a letter of remonstrance. Again the position was explained to him; but again he advanced his request that the gates might be opened, accompanied with a hint that he might be willing to make some small acknowledgment of his obligation. Realizing at last the futility of his demand, he exclaimed in despair, ‘What is the use of your Dam if you cannot let the water out to save my boat?’

The two great principles of British policy in Egypt have been irrigation and low taxation. Irrigation is the vital necessity to Egypt. Other departments of Government, however urgent their claims might be, have had to wait and to be starved until the reproductive works could be established and set going. Every penny that could be spared had to be cast upon the waters. At the same time we found the people overburdened with taxation on account of the Public Debt, and also bound hand and foot in the meshes of the usurer. We could not, however powerful we might be, hope to hold securely a country with 11,000,000 of population, unless we have something else than mere force to look to. To the Egyptians we are aliens by race and religion, we have no ties of custom or intermarriage; we have nothing but their material interests to appeal to. If we can make them prosperous, if they can save money without fear of confiscation, if we can secure to them the fruits of their labour, we have done a great deal to strengthen the basis of our rule.

There is no doubt that the fellaheen do appreciate the benefits of British rule; it would be strange if they did not. The corvée is gone. Not only has taxation been enormously reduced in amount, but its method of collection has been made equitable and regular. Whereas in former days the tax-collector was in league with the money-lender, and contrived to demand his payments at times when it was certain that the cultivator of the soil would have no money, and would have to pledge his growing crops to raise the amount, now the time of payment is adjusted to suit the harvests. Moreover, the new Agricultural Bank lends to the fellaheen at a rate far below that demanded by the Syrian, Greek, or Coptic usurers; the State gives a small guarantee, and the Government tax-collectors collect the interest and instalments of the loans at the same time as the taxes. The Egyptians are naturally a thrifty people; they are taking advantage of this plan, and are very punctual in their repayments. When the scheme was first started, it was met with grave disapproval by the professed economists. The fellaheen, they said, will borrow first from the Bank, and will then execute a second mortgage, and borrow more on the same exorbitant terms from their old blood-suckers. But Lord Cromer’s keen insight into the character of the people has once again been justified.

It is true that a generation is growing up that knew not Ismail. These have lived only in the new order of things, and have no personal reminiscences to sharpen their enjoyment of the present; but even so the number of those actually discontented must be few, and the number of those who would carry their discontent into action still fewer. More than this, perhaps, it would be foolish to expect. In the East a reforming nation could not be really popular, except among fighters. And the Egyptians are no fighters—they are peaceable people, who love their homes; no one joins the army except by the necessity of conscription. Even the reformatory school-boy cannot be induced to volunteer for so much as the band. Honour and glory are nothing to them; they seek no bubble reputation at the cannon’s mouth. Again, the Englishman endeavours to establish impartial justice in the Courts. That is all very well if your opponent is a richer man than you; but what if you could have outbid him quite easily? It is a good thing to be free from the fear of being bastinadoed and fined because your neighbour has given false evidence against you, or because he has influence with the police. But if you, which is at least as likely, wish to do the same to him, how do you profit by the reform?

Then, too, the alien rule may be just and righteous and full of solid benefit, but it is dull. In old days a man might be maltreated and flogged, he might have his property confiscated, he might even lose his life, according to the whim of his ruler, but the same whim might equally make him Grand Vizier. Such fluctuations appeal to the Oriental imagination. A veiled Protectorate must always be something of a mystery to an Egyptian; the personal rule of a despot, Effendina, the Lord of all, is much more suited to his instincts. At any rate, it is difficult to discover much outward manifestation of an appreciation of British rule; but it would be wrong to argue too strongly from that. The fact is rather, indeed, a proof of the lightness of the governing hand. The Egyptians know very well that we shall never resent any opposition; they have confidence in our forbearance. But if time should bring a change once more—and there have been many changes in the past—it would be an evil day for those who had been too open in their support of English rule. It is well to be on the safe side.

If you take an intelligent and prosperous Egyptian, old enough to remember the days of Ismail—for example, a lawyer who has saved enough money to make a considerable investment in land, the prime ambition of every native, a man who speaks a couple of European languages, has had a good education himself, and is very likely sending his son to Oxford or Cambridge—and question him upon British rule in Egypt, he will probably tell you something as follows:—

‘No one who has eyes to see can question the benefit of the British occupation. The country has attained such prosperity as never before. We knew very well that no other European nation would have ruled us with such a single eye to the well-being of the natives. We realize the devotion and ability of the British officials. We would rather have you than any other rulers, and we are well aware that if you went we might easily become subject to a King Stork. In such a case your popularity would become enormous. Doubtless we should clamour for your return. But we cannot help dreaming of the glories that might have been ours if our Khedives had not wasted their chances. Who can say how great an African empire might have existed? Long before European nations began to take a hand in the partition of Africa, we held the whole valley of the Nile to Uganda. With a wise Government and such a starting-point, what limits could have been set to our dominions? By the folly of our rulers we squandered it all, and came to ruin. You have drawn us out of the pit, but you thrust your benefits upon us at the point of the bayonet. In spite of them, and perhaps unreasonably, we sigh for rulers of our own faith and race, and we would sacrifice something of our prosperity if we could feel ourselves the authors of what remained.’

Such longings are natural and creditable, and if the men who feel them were capable or numerous enough to form a real governing class, the prospects of the future might be different from what they are. But they are not; and these dreams must remain dreams—for some time to come, at any rate. Such discontents are the inevitable outcome of the progress of our educative work in Egypt. Nothing illustrates it better than the recent movement among the Egyptian officers of some of the Soudanese battalions. These men had been trained on a British model; they had gained much experience in the stern school of actual warfare, and yet they found the higher ranks of the Service barred to them, and filled by a succession of British officers, younger and less experienced than themselves. Their discontent was natural, but their disappointment was also inevitable. In spite of their training and experience, to have given them the promotion they wished for would have been to ruin the efficiency of the army. You cannot make bricks without straw, however scientific your methods.

It would be very easy to exaggerate the importance of such murmurings. They are as nothing in the face of the rising tide of prosperity which has come to the mass of the labouring population as the result of our rule, and which is its overwhelming justification. In the Delta provinces, in Middle and Upper Egypt, in the Fayoum, the undeniable facts rise up and confront you. Wages have increased in some places as much as 50 per cent., and with the rise has gone an enormous improvement in all the conditions of life. The fellaheen are building better houses, they are better fed, disease is less, they are happier every way. And as labourers they well deserve it. Many faults they have, but nowhere in the world can a more industrious, patient, and hard-working people be found.

In the Mosque el Azhar, the Mohammedan University of Cairo, the interpretation of the Koran is the principal subject of study, and it is said that weeks and months, and even years, are spent by professors and pupils in subtle and ingenious dissertations on such a question as, Who is your neighbour? Is a man living over your head more worthy of the name than one who lives next door? And so on. If in these reforming days these pundits turn their attention to politics, they will find an almost equally insoluble problem in attempting to define the exact nature of British rule in Egypt. To them the question may safely be left. But while the learned few are labouring through its intricate maze with the most agreeable lack of success, the unlearned many will have their own simple answer. They only know the thing was done; it matters nothing by what authority. The water came to them regularly in due season, and the wilderness was made to blossom like the rose.