Napoleon in Egypt: The Lessons of History
by Steven LaTulippe
by Steven LaTulippe
My
glory is declining. This little corner of Europe is too small
to supply it. We must go East. All the great men of the world
have there acquired their celebrity.
~
Napoleon Bonaparte
One
of the fascinating things about the history of Western civilization
is its recurrent bouts of manic utopianism. Stretching back at least
to Alexander the Great, movements have appeared with astonishing
regularity organized around various abstract philosophies agitating
for a new, "higher" stage of human existence and social
perfection. The Inquisitions, the Crusades, communism, fascism,
etc., have never brought utopia, but they have left a horrible trail
of blood and sorrow.
It
is a matter of historical curiosity that this behavior is predominantly
a trait of Western civilization. Only rarely have non-Western societies
been consumed by a fiery creed which has prompted them to engage
in massive ideological bloodletting or fanatical attempts to convert
the world by force of arms. Pol Pot and Chairman Mao, both of whom
engaged in mass ideologically-driven domestic atrocities, are perhaps
the exceptions that prove the rule.
What
is the origin of this Western neurosis? Is it nature or nurture?
Can the West be cured?
It
was with just such thoughts in my mind that I recently perused Alan
Moorehead’s classic book The
Blue Nile. First published in 1962, it is a wonderful historical
narrative of the storied branch of the Nile River which originates
in the highlands of Ethiopia.
While
the whole book is filled with fascinating tales and poignant historical
anecdotes, the contemporary reader is drawn to the middle portion
which tells the story of Napoleon’s ill-fated attempt at nation-building
in Egypt. The tale reinforces Marx’s dictum that history repeats
itself, first as tragedy and then as farce.
By
1798, the French Revolutionaries had largely succeeded in stamping
out any domestic resistance to their radical reconstruction of French
society. The Church was persecuted, "reactionaries" were
beheaded, and everything from the calendar to the system of weights
and measures was remade in order to create a "more perfect
social order".
The
time had come to export their revolution to the benighted masses
of the world. Napoleon Bonaparte, a Corsican with proper revolutionary
credentials, had just completed a series of stunning victories in
Italy. Still only a citizen-General, he cast his eyes about for
a new field of conquest.
Eventually, he settled on Egypt. At that time, Egypt had been ruled
for nearly 500 years by a curious caste of slave-warriors called
Mamelukes. Originally subservient to the Ottoman Sultan, by the
late 1700s they had become largely independent of the Turks. Since
Mameluke rule was undeniably brutal and corrupt, Egypt made a nice
target for the utopian impulses of the French Revolutionaries. The
fact that Egypt was rich with booty and sat atop the shortest route
for the British to get to India was merely a "convenient coincidence".
Napoleon
went to great lengths to play up the revolutionary aspect of the
expedition. He first went to the intellectuals:
"Bonaparte’s
influence upon the intellectuals of the Institut de France seems
even more remarkable. Success, of course, is infectious, and in
every age intellectuals have always been charmed by literate men
of action, but Bonaparte appears to have roused the Institut as
though it were a corps of cadets about to follow him into battle.
They invite him to become a member, and they are delighted by the
modest air with which he reads papers, astonished at his knowledge
and flattered by his interest in their work. All at once respectable
men of science and letters, men like Monge and Berthollet who are
many years his senior, can think of nothing so exciting as going
off on a military expedition to Egypt. The young commander is more
than welcoming. He wants them all on his staff, engineers, geologists,
mathematicians, chemists, zoologists, astronomers, geographers,
mineralogists, archaeologists, arabists, poets, and painters; and
in the end, almost without realizing what was happening to them,
these sedentary and studious men really do become another corps
of cadets following young Caesar into battle."
This
was no war of banal plunder (at least not on the surface). This
was going to be an historic struggle to bring enlightenment to the
backwaters of the Middle East.
As
Napoleon’s flagship, appropriately christened L’Orient, approached
Egypt, he sent a message to the people stating that his intentions
were merely to liberate them from the oppression of the Mamelukes.
He played up his friendship with the Sultan and his respect for
Islam.
Moorehead
notes:
"At
this stage, Bonaparte still believed that the Sultan might be won
over…Bonaparte himself, when he later dressed in Moslem clothes
in Cairo and attempted to set up a kind of self-government among
the imams and notables there, may really have deluded himself briefly
that he might be accepted by the Egyptians as one of themselves."
The
major combat operations phase of the expedition went rather smoothly.
Napoleon engaged the Mamelukes in a brief series of skirmishes that
culminated in the Battle of the Pyramids outside of Cairo. The Mamelukes
were initially unprepared for modern European weapons and tactics,
and suffered heavy casualties in mass frontal assaults.
As
the French settled into their new role as masters of the Nile, the
Egyptian people were not fooled one bit by the propaganda. They
judged Napoleon to be no different than a long line of conquerors
going back to Biblical times:
"In
this shut-in, hothouse atmosphere, where the people were absorbed
to the limit in their own parochial affairs, the energetic, proselytizing
spirit of the French made no sense at all, and all their revolutionary
talk of liberty, equality, and fraternity was merely rhetoric. This
was a truth Bonaparte still had to learn. The Egyptian imams and
sheikhs who were confused about so much else were not taken in for
two minutes by his declaration that he had come to rescue them from
the Mamelukes. They knew that he wanted the power for himself and
(unlike the Mamelukes), they suspected that it was useless to resist
him. He could come to Cairo as a successful general, as a substitute
for the Mamelukes, as one more new tyrant (and an infidel at that)
to be added to the rest, or not at all; he could never hope to enter
into partnership with Egyptians. It was at the very core of their
nature to resist all governments in a passive and dissembling way,
to defeat the tax-gatherer, to cheat the magistrates and to avoid
military service. Behind the locked doors of their houses and in
their mosques they had their own brand of equality, fraternity,
and liberty, and it had nothing to do with their rulers."
As
the occupation wore on, the French were ground between the passive
resistance of the masses and the new, guerilla tactics of the Mamelukes
and the Bedouins. The French decided to set up a government comprised
of "friendly natives" (who were quickly branded as collaborators
by the Egyptians). The people also grew increasingly disillusioned
with various French reforms of their government.
Moorehead
continues:
"…what
the French appeared to be offering them was not freedom but a new
sort of subservience, worse than the one they had known before because
it was alien and strange. The Mamelukes had been lax in gathering
taxes, but the French were proving very thorough; they employed
Copts and Greeks to ferret out the last piaster and it was difficult
to come to some comfortable arrangement with a bribe. The proposed
census was going to make concealment even harder…they had no need
for canals, new weights and measures, and new schools. Above all,
they hated Christian interference in their private lives. They did
not believe Bonaparte’s protestations of his respect for Muhammad,
nor were they much impressed by his dressings-up in turban and caftan
or the great celebrations he ordered for the birthday of the Prophet;
every move his soldiers made was an affront to the Muhammadan way
of life."
Inevitably,
an organized resistance began to form. Bit by bit, it became more
effective in carrying out surprise attacks on the occupying French
army.
"It
was soon realized that the campaign which had opened so brilliantly
had only just begun, and was about to enter a new phase; in place
of pitched battles which were short and victorious they were faced
with guerilla warfare which promised to be long and hard."
Gradually,
it began to dawn on Bonaparte that the occupation was a no-win situation.
Also, he began to receive messages from Paris that the revolutionary
government was in a shambles. Since he had bigger fish to fry, Napoleon
decided that it was a good time to make his exit from the Egyptian
campaign.
Leaving
his army behind to continue slugging it out with the guerillas,
Napoleon gathered his entourage of intellectuals and sycophants
and headed home.
Moorehead
describes the scene:
"Early
on August 22, Bonaparte boarded the Murion, which was waiting two
miles out from the same beach at Marabu where he had first come
ashore in Egypt fourteen months before. All his fellow passengers
agreed that the general was in the best of spirits on the hazardous
voyage home. As they ran along the North African coast to Cape Bon,
he played vingt-et-un, discussed geometry and physics with Monge,
and drew them all into his schemes for the future. They hardly saw
another ship until they touched in at Corsica, and then, on October
9, seven weeks after leaving Egypt, ran in through the British blockade
to St. Raphael. A month later, Bonaparte was dictator of France."
While
Napoleon certainly landed on his feet, his army was left trapped
behind the British blockade fighting an increasingly desperate war
with Egyptian partisans, Mameluke "dead-enders" and Turkish
troops sent by the Sultan to recover his lost province. They struggled
on for another year and a half until a negotiated settlement was
reached and the survivors could be evacuated back to France.
After
their departure, Egypt quickly drifted back to its traditional status-quo.
"It
was a sad end to a great adventure, and it created the impression
that Bonaparte had accomplished nothing very much in Egypt. The
Suez Canal was not dug, the new boulevards and waterways in Cairo
were abandoned, French military law was forgotten along with their
new scheme for weights and measures, their hospitals, their census
and their proposed dams along the river."
Egypt
descended into a horrible civil war between various factions in
the wake of the French withdrawal. After a great deal of death and
destruction, an Albanian soldier of fortune named Muhammad Ali emerged
victorious. Moorehead notes with a sad irony:
"…the
Egyptians, after a decade of invasion and civil war, could now subside
once more into the familiar comforts and miseries of Oriental despotism."
This
story has everything that a modern observer of American Middle Eastern
policy could desire. It was set in an exotic Muslim land enduring
many years of an oppressive and corrupt government. It starred a
radical Western leader with dreams of remaking the world. There
was a copious quantity of propaganda that the invasion would bring
enlightenment and freedom to a benighted people. There was a quick
and brilliant military "cakewalk" as the invading army
used modern tactics and weapons to overwhelm all resistance and
set up a puppet government. There was a gradual erosion of goodwill
between the occupier and the occupied, culminating in a vicious
guerilla war. And, in the end, it was the common French soldier
and the hapless civilians of the targeted land who paid the price
for the whole sordid affair.
Ironically,
a French crusade for liberty in the Middle East ended with despotism
in Egypt and the lapse of France herself into the grips of a military
dictatorship.
There
are numerous morals to this story which America would do well to
heed, since those who do not learn from history are often condemned
to repeat it.
February
21, 2005
Steven
LaTulippe [send him mail]
is a physician currently practicing in Ohio. He was an officer in
the United States Air Force for 13 years.
Copyright
© 2005 LewRockwell.com
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