By Eric Vandenbroeck and co-workers

The Making Of The Modern Middle East Part Two

In Part One we detailed the fall of the Ottoman Empire and the Sharif Hussein Arab Revolt. In Part Two the carving up of the Middle East via the Sykes-Picot Agreement.

As we have seen Hussein declared himself “King of the Arabs” in October 1916 (although he was only recognized as King of the Hejaz by his European allies). In December 1917, the Sharif put forward an ambitious scheme for ruling Arabia (north of Aden, which he recognized as a British preserve) and the Fertile Crescent as the first among equals of an Arab confederacy. His revolt took the form of a traditional Arabian “chieftaincy” rather than that of a modern nationalist movement. British-supplied guns, grain, and gold were used to construct a ladder of Bedouin support that extended into southern Syria after the capture of Aqaba in July 1917. Hussein’s forces failed to take Medina (which held out until January 1919) or to progress north of Ma‘an before the Ottoman collapse in November 1918 opened the way for their triumphal entry into Damascus – an occasion that Hussein marked by annexing Ma‘an and its hinterland (including Aqaba) to the Hejaz.

 

The Fate Of Hussein’s Revolt

The Arab movement was a loose one and proved fragile even under wartime conditions when British gold flowed freely. Many of Hussein’s tribal clients defected once his forces passed beyond their territories. Held together by a temporary influx of British gold, Hussein’s movement proved even more fragile once external support began to drain away in the aftermath of the war. Bereft of financial means, Hussein’s Hashemite chieftaincy proved less durable than that forged out of Wahhabi Islam and the zeal of the fearsome Ikhwan by Ibn Saʻud. In May 1919, a dispute over the town of Khurma on the border between Najd and the Hejaz escalated into an armed conflict that saw the destruction of Hussein’s army by the Ikhwan at the battle of Turaba. The Saudi victory paved the way for the slow “crawl” of Wahabism into the hinterlands of the Hejaz and Ibn Sau’d’s eventual destruction of Hussein’s kingdom in 1925. Despite the installation of his sons, Abdullah, King of Jordan (1882-1951), and Faysal I, King of Iraq (1885-1933), as rulers of Transjordan and Iraq under British Mandate tutelage, Hussein spent the rest of his life in exile in Cyprus, returning to die in Amman.

Having launched his uprising against Ottoman rule with British prompting, Hussein ended up as the chief victim of a postwar settlement that saw Britain renege on the promises of Arab independence held out by his correspondence with McMahon. A later generation of Arabs came to condemn the movement he launched as a reactionary affair that had, in practice, delivered the Fertile Crescent to colonial rule. Yet while there may be some grounds for leveling this accusation against Hussein’s sons, the record shows that Hussein refused to adapt to the European order that emerged from the wreckage of the Ottoman Empire. In particular, he refused to recognize the British Mandate as the price of protection from the menace of Ibn Saʻud. Having sacrificed a millennium of Sharifian rule over Islam’s two most holy shrines on a matter of principle, it is perhaps apt that Hussein was buried in Islam’s third most holy place in Jerusalem, on the grounds of the Dome of the Rock, his grave a standing reproach to the imperial power that used and then abandoned him.

The Mandate aimed to administer and develop the region until it was ready for self-determination. The Mandate ended in 1948, when Israel declared its independence and Arab states invaded the territory.

The agreement was based on the premise that the Triple Entente would achieve success in defeating the Ottoman Empire during World War I and formed part of a series of secret agreements contemplating its partition. The primary negotiations leading to the agreement took place between 23 November 1915 and 3 January 1916, on which date the British and French diplomats, Mark Sykes and François Georges-Picot, initiated an agreed memorandum.1

The first meeting of the British interdepartmental committee headed by Sir Arthur Nicolson with François Georges-Picot took place on 23 November 1915. The French representative was not convinced of the importance of inducing the Emir of Mecca and the Arab nationalists to side with the Entente. Austen Chamberlain reported to Lord Hardinge that Picot had ‘expressed complete incredulity as to the projected Arab kingdom, said that the Sheikh had no big Arab chiefs with him, that the Arabs were incapable of combining, and that the whole scheme was visionary’. The secretary of state for India was very pleased. It seemed that the French delegate ‘knows his Arab well. I expect he has sized up the Sheikh’s scheme pretty accurately. I doubt if it has any element of solidity or that any promise will have weight with the Arabs until they are convinced that we are winning.’2

Moreover, French demands – which according to Picot the French were obliged to make as ‘no French government would stand for a day which made any surrender of French claims in Syria’ – were rather excessive. Picot informed the Nicolson committee that France claimed the:  Possession (nominally, a protectorate) of land starting from where the Taurus Mts approach the sea in Cilicia, following the Taurus Mountains and the mountains further East, to include Diabekr, Mosul, and Kerbela, and then returning to Deir Zor on the Euphrates and from there southwards along the desert border, finishing eventually at the Egyptian frontier.  Picot, however, added that he was prepared ‘to propose to the French government to throw Mosul into the Arab pool if we did so in the case of Bagdad’. In amplification, Nicolson minuted that Picot had:  Intimated his readiness to proceed to Paris to explain personally our view – and the Arab desiderata. M. Cambon told me that he had objected to this visit, on the ground that he would not be well received at the Quai d’Orsay were he to carry with him such unpalatable proposals as he had suggested. M. Picot would, therefore, communicate with Quai d’Orsay in writing. We must, therefore, await the reply.15

Thus started the negotiations between the British and the French, subsequently followed by the British, the French, and the Russians, to settle their claims on the Asiatic part of the Ottoman Empire. The Foreign Office started these negotiations because it considered that they had to be brought to a successful conclusion before the Emir of Mecca could again be approached regarding the terms under which the Arabs would be pre- pared to side with the Entente. A settlement should also secure French consent to a military intervention on the coast of Syria, providing a screen behind which the Arabs would rise against the Turks. During the negotiations, which started at the end of November 1915 and finally came to an end in the middle of May 1916, Sir Edward Grey and his officials again and again stipulated that an agreement only held good if the active cooperation of the Arabs was secured. At the same time they were well aware that, after the British and French governments had decided at the end of December 1915 to concentrate their forces on the Western front and that the amount of troops on the other fronts should be reduced to the barest minimum, a military intervention on the Syrian coast was out of the question and Arab active assistance consequently would never materialize. This had at least the advantage that critics of the negotiations could easily be disarmed by pointing out that nothing would ever come of all this. Not three weeks after an exchange of letters between Grey and French ambassador Paul Cambon had finalized what would become known as the Sykes–Picot agreement, Sharif Hussein started his revolt against his Turkish masters. That the Emir revolted without waiting for a fresh round of negotiations or a military intervention by the Entente drew no comments from Grey and his officials.

The Cairo authorities to impress on the Foreign Office that the object of the negotiations with Hussein was not to gain the Arabs’ active assistance, but rather their passive support in order to prevent a jihad. They also tried to make clear to the home authorities that Arab opposition to French ambitions in Syria was real and could not be ignored, that there were divisions in the Arab nationalist camp, and that as a result of a rapprochement between the Turkish opposition parties and the Arab nationalists, it was inopportune to divulge the terms of the Sykes–Picot agreement to Hussein. The main result of these efforts to educate Grey and his officials on the true state of Arab feeling was that the latter grew heartily tired of the whole affair.

There were also the various crises that erupted in London from September 1916 to January 1917 as a result of a series of requests by the authorities in Cairo and Khartoum to send a British brigade to the town of Rabegh on the coast of the Hijaz to prevent the Turks from advancing on Mecca and crushing Sharif Hussein's revolt. These requests offered ministers dissatisfied with how the war was being conducted the opportunity to challenge the established military policy of concentrating all available forces on the Western front in France. However, to overthrow this policy was quite another matter. At times, the War Committee hovered on the brink, but in the end, it always decided to postpone the decision, even when it had been decided to take a decision. When in December the newly created War Cabinet decided to delegate the responsibility for sending the brigade to Sir Reginald Wingate, the latter, although he had been the most ardent advocate of the scheme, promptly shifted it onto Hussein, who in the meantime had been proclaimed ‘King of the Arab Nation’, his precarious position notwithstanding. By the middle of January 1917, it was evident that Hussein would not permit British troops to land in the Hijaz. This proved to Wingate’s satisfaction that, if the Arab revolt collapsed, the blame lay firmly on Hussein’s shoulders. There would be no further Rabegh scares.

Soldiers carrying the Flag of the Arab Revolt.

Meanwhile, Mark Sykes traveled to see Hussein and managed to convince the king that he could safely assent to a formula to the effect that the French would pursue the same policy in Syria as the British in Baghdad. Hussein had apparently gained the impression that Baghdad would be part of the Arab state, and afterwards showed himself to be very pleased that he had tricked Picot into giving Syria away. According to the Sykes–Picot agreement, however, Baghdad would be ‘practically British’, in which case the king had unwittingly agreed to Syria being ‘practically French’. It did not take long before the Foreign Office received the first reports indicating that, as far as informing King Hussein of the terms of the Sykes–Picot agreement was concerned, the Sykes–Picot mission had been a signal failure.

Having discussed the previous month Mark Sykes is one of the more fascinating persons figuring in British policy making towards the Middle East 1914–19. At the beginning of 1916,  Sykes established a reputation as an effective negotiator. His reputation was further strengthened by his appointment as assistant secretary to the War Cabinet, but it began to wane when in the summer of 1917 there were signs that he had failed to impart to King Hussein a clear understanding of what the Sykes–Picot agreement meant, and it was fatally injured at the end of 1917, when it became clear that the French government would not ratify the projet d’arrangement Sykes had negotiated. What makes Sir Mark fascinating is that he did not hesitate to put the most fantastic, outrageous observations, theories and schemes to paper and circulate them to whomever might be interested. His observations on the influence of the Jews on the war efforts of the belligerents did perhaps not raise too many eyebrows, because these were very common at the time, but this certainly did not apply to his various schemes about how French, Arab, Armenian, Zionist and whoever else’s interests could be combined and reconciled, and put to work in support of the British war effort. It is hard to believe that anyone for one moment took these seriously, or was ready to entertain them, but it was very seldom that they were openly ridiculed.

As for Hussein there also was, of course, the question of money. Clayton informed Wingate that Hussein Hussein had:  Confessed to Wilson that he had saved about £200,000 out of the first two consignments of £125,000 sent to him, and Faisal was exceedingly angry at the difficulty he had in getting money out of his father for himself and Ali […] £100,000 golden sovereigns sent to Feisal and Ali a couple of months ago would have done wonders. Wilson has spoken very seriously to the Sharif and is going to do so again and warn him that he is jeopardizing his success by his parsimony.16 

On 10 April 1917, Wingate telegraphed to the Foreign Office that Hussein had requested that his monthly subsidy is raised. According to the high commissioner, the King deplored the fact that he had to make this request, especially given ‘his heavy financial and other obligations to His Majesty’s Government’, but then again, from his revolt ‘serious political and military benefits’ had accrued to Great Britain. Sir Reginald added that Hussein would use the extra money ‘to secure the adhesion of chiefs of northern tribes and thereby to achieve that semblance of national cohesion which can (?justify) his revolt […] in the eyes of the Moslem world’. Given the latter, in particular, it seemed to Wingate to ‘be bad and possibly dangerous policy on our part to withhold additional financial backing which he requires at a time when tribal elements east of the Jordan can render effectual assistance to our own military operations in Palestine.' He, therefore, did not hesitate to recommend strongly the granting of Hussein’s request.

During the summer and autumn of 1917, officials of the Foreign Office, the India Office, the War Office and the Treasury met regularly to discuss the situation, while Sir Reginald time and again tried to force the issue. On 18 June, Wingate urged that Hussein’s ‘monetary requirements’ be met to prevent unfortunate political effects ‘on Arab military operations’, and one month later he stated that not meeting Hussein’s demands ‘would be little short of disastrous and effect on Arab military operations hardlyless so’.17 The Arab revolt, however, still continued when on 10  October the Treasury finally agreed to place £400,000 in gold at the disposal of the Egyptian treasury.18 This matter had hardly been settled when Sir Reginald asked permission that ‘additional £25,000 a month which has already been promised to Shereef for five months after fall of Medina be given him now, and that it be continued for a maximum period of 5 months irrespective of date on which Medina may fall’. The high commissioner fully realized that ‘Shereef’s method of administering his finances is by no means beyond criticism’, but the situation in the Hijaz once again was ‘critical’, and it was Wingate’s considered opinion that Great Britain should not, ‘for the sake of a relatively small sum of money, lose the full fruits of a policy which I venture to think has fully justified itself both from a military political and financial point of view’. This was exactly what was bothering Clerk. He doubted very much ‘if another £25,000 a month is going to keep the Arabs together, supposing they are in the condition Sir R. Wingate describes’. He wondered whether the time had not arrived that ‘we should rely on our forces and refuse to be a milk cow for King Hussein’. Graham had no difficulty with the proposal, as it was the high commissioner’s responsibility, but he agreed with Clerk that ‘the Arab movement must be very unstable if £25,000 a month makes all the difference to it!’19

However, the authorities in Cairo, Baghdad, and London steadily lost their grip on the continuing and deepening rivalry between Hussein and Ibn Sa’ud, in particular regarding the possession of the desert town of Khurma. This led to the First Saudi–Hashemite War, also known as the First Nejd–Hejaz War.

The war came within the scope of the historical conflict between the Hashemites of Hejaz and the Saudis of Riyadh (Nejd) over supremacy in Arabia. It resulted in the defeat of the Hashemite forces and capture of al-Khurma by the Saudis and his allied Ikhwan, but British intervention prevented an immediate collapse of the Hashemite kingdom, establishing a sensitive cease-fire.

The British–French rivalry in the Hijaz; the British attempt to get the French government to recognize Britain’s predominance on the Arabian Peninsula; the conflict between King Husayn and Ibn Sa’ud, the Sultan of Najd; the British handling of the French desire to take part in the administration of Palestine; as well as the ways in which the British authorities, in London and on the spot, tried to manage French, Syrian, Zionist and Hashemite ambitions regarding Syria and Palestine, in the end, has two major underlying themes. The first is the rapid erosion of Sir Mark Sykes’s authority on Middle Eastern affairs in the months from December 1917 to August 1918. His proposed solutions for the disentanglement of the mass of knotty problems with which Britain was confronted found less and less favor and were increasingly ignored or rejected. At the end of this period, Sir Mark stood more or less on the sidelines of the decision-making process regarding the Middle East. There is quite some irony here, like Sykes, at his request, had moved to the Foreign Office at the beginning of January 1918 in an attempt to become the directing actor in British Middle East policy. The second underlying theme concerns the concomitant undermining of the Foreign Office doctrine that no effort should be spared to accommodate French susceptibilities on Syria. In Cairo and Palestine, Sir Reginald Wingate, Gilbert Clayton and General Allenby championed the cause of the Arabs, sheltering behind military exigencies, while in London, Arthur Balfour and Lord Robert Cecil failed to put their stamp on the decision making within the inter-departmental Eastern Committee chaired by Lord Curzon.

During the discussions during and following the Paris Peace Conference in 1919 the British authorities – in London, Paris, and the Middle East – gradually came to realize that, in contrast to what they had initially believed, they could not dictate terms to the French with respect to Syria. When the peace conference opened in January 1919, they might have differed among themselves about the best way to secure British interests in the Middle East, but they all shared the presumption that Great Britain could negotiate with the French from a position of strength. It was only a question of time before the latter would understand that they had no other option than to give in to British demands. British forces occupied the country, the USA strongly opposed French imperialistic designs, and if France nevertheless succeeded in pushing through her ambitions and tried to occupy the country, Arab armed resistance would lead to bloodshed on a scale France could scarcely afford. It was only through Britain’s good offices that France would be able to secure Syria by peaceful means. By the end of August it had become clear that all this had been an illusion. In January it had already been realized that the costs of occupation constituted an intolerable burden for the British treasury, but there remained the possibility of American intervention and there was still the threat of the Arab nationalists attacking French soldiers. By May, however, everything indicated that the Americans would not take a stand on Syria, and by July the Arab threat more or less evaporated as a result of a more realistic appreciation of the strength of the Arab forces under Faisal’s command. Prime Minister David Lloyd George nevertheless thought he could still settle matters in Britain’s favor by presenting the French with the fait accompli of a British evacuation of Syria as of 1 November, and handing over the towns of Damascus, Homs, Hama and Aleppo to Faisal’s forces in pursuance of the British agreement with the Emir of Mecca. He believed that French prime minister Georges Clemenceau would not dare run the risk of an armed confrontation. Clemenceau did not even blink. He demanded that the British put a stop to their meddling in the Syrian question, and leave it to the French to deal with Faisal and the Arab nationalists. By the middle of October, it was Lloyd George who gave in. Faisal was left to fend for himself.

The French, who opposed his plan, defeated his army in July. But even if they hadn’t, Faisal’s territorial claims would have put him in direct conflict with Maronite Christians pushing for independence in what is today Lebanon, with Jewish settlers who had begun their Zionist project in Palestine, and with Turkish nationalists who sought to unite Anatolia.

In conclusion, it is possible to understand Britain’s contradictory policy commitments which were made as British war aims evolved along with the conditions produced by the conflict.  What they understood about the connection between the Hashemite family and Arab nationalist societies differed from the actual relationship.

Another leitmotif was that the officials at the Foreign Office had no thought-out conception of what British Middle East policy should be, but judged developments in that area by the simple rule that nothing should be done that might arouse France’s susceptibilities on Syria.

And while it is significant that in 1917, Britain somehow expected an Arab-Islamic empire to take shape. British policymakers were never fully aware of the social and political connections between the Hashemites, the secret societies called Fatat and 'Ahd, and the pan-Islamists. This is because they did not understand, or chose to overlook, how deeply engrained religious notions of power were within these secret societies.

At the end of the war, Sharif Hussein was left only with the stony and unproductive Hejaz, in which he imposed a regime of ultrastrict shari‘a, restoring punishments such as hand and foot amputation which had fallen into disuse in the region long before the Young Turk revolution. At the same time, he began to behave increasingly like the archetypal ‘oriental despot,' alienating rich and poor alike. In March 1924 Hussein proclaimed himself caliph after the Turkish Nationalist government had formally abolished the role. In response, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz Ibn Sa‘ud of Najd sent his feared Ikhwan fighters into Hussein’s realm and the king was forced to flee to ‘Aqaba in ‘Abdallah’s Transjordan, from where the British removed him to Cyprus. He later returned to Transjordan’s capital, Amman, where he died in 1931.

It should therefore not come as a surprise that Amman was foremost in celebrating, what inspired by T.E. Lawrence is today, called the 'Arab Revolt'.

 

Conclusion:  From Sherifian to a real ‘Arab revolt’ in Iraq

If we were to ask the question, ‘On whose side did the Arabs fight in the First World War?’ Most people who know something about the war’s history would probably say ‘Britain’s.'  Such a reply would reflect the orthodox account, emanating from the glorification of ‘Lawrence of Arabia’ and the alleged ‘Arab Revolt’ of Sherif Hussein and his sons, an episode also burned into the imagination by David Lean’s spectacular and immensely popular film on this subject. In both the film and Lawrence’s original memoir – The Seven Pillars of Wisdom – we see an epic struggle in which ‘the Arabs’ join with the British in a fight to the death against the former’s cruel Turkish overlords. In return, the British promise the Arabs ‘freedom’, for their contribution to winning the war in the Middle East, a promise which would never be redeemed. This ‘orthodox narrative’ is also exemplified by the writings of some Arab historians who interpreted the pro-British stance of the Hashemites as part of an ‘Arab awakening’ after centuries of Turkish domination.

However, over the last two decades, this orthodox narrative has been questioned by a number of historians – not just the role claimed by Lawrence himself, but more fundamentally the assumption that Britain’s opponents in the Middle East were almost entirely ethnic Turks, that the Arabs’ experience of the Ottoman state was little more than a ‘Turkish yoke’, and from the outset they were only waiting for an opportunity to rebel against it.

In reality, the vast majority of Arabs did not ‘fight for the British’ in the First World War. In 1914 about one-third of the regular troops in the Ottoman army were Arabs, mainly from the towns and cities of the regions which subsequently became Iraq, Syria, Lebanon and Palestine.

However, between July 1920 and February 1921, in the territory then known to the British as Mesopotamia – the modern state of Iraq – an Arab uprising occurred which came perilously close to inflicting a shattering defeat upon the British Empire. The story of this uprising is one which once engaged the closest of attention among the British public but over many decades slipped back into the mists of exclusively academic history, almost completely erased from the collective memory.

And so it would have remained had it not been for the ill-fated US invasion of Iraq in 2003. Once the ‘insurgency’ against the subsequent occupation had begun, it wasn’t long before a much older, forgotten insurgency in Iraq came to light with journalists, historians and even functionaries of the US occupation drawing lessons and making comparisons – some appropriate, some less so – with that much earlier event.20

The Iraqi revolt against the British, also known as the 1920 Iraqi Revolt or Great Iraqi Revolution, started in Baghdad in the summer of 1920 with mass demonstrations by Iraqis, including protests by embittered officers from the old Ottoman army, against the British occupation of Iraq. The revolt gained momentum when it spread to the largely tribal Shia regions of the middle and lower Euphrates. Sheikh Mehdi Al-Khalissi was a prominent Shia leader of the revolt.

Sunni and Shia religious communities cooperated during the revolution as well as tribal communities, the urban masses, and many Iraqi officers in Syria. The objectives of the revolution were independence from British rule and creation of an Arab government.

The Foreign Office (FO) documents can be viewed online, here: http://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/help-with-your-research/research-guides/foreign-commonwealth-correspondence-and-records-from-1782.

 

1. Fromkin, David (1989). A Peace to End All Peace: The Fall of the Ottoman Empire and the Creation of the Modern Middle East. New York: Owl. pp. 286, 288. ISBN 978-0-8050-6884-9.1 Tauber, The Arab Movements in World War I, pp 63–65.

2. Note, not dated, encl. in Abdullah to Storrs, 14 July 1915; Antonius, Arab Awakening, p. 414. There were four other conditions, which McMahon summarized as follows: ‘Arab government of Sheriff to guarantee Great Britain economic preference in Arab countries. Conditions of mutual assistance. Great Britain to approve and further abolition of foreign privileges in Arabia. Provisions of renewal of alliance.’ Tel. McMahon to Grey, no. 450, 22 August 1915, FO 371/2486/117236.

3. Clayton to Wingate, private, not dated, presumably March 1915, Wingate Papers, box 134/4. 

4. Clayton to Wingate, private, 21 August 1915, Wingate Papers, box 135/2.

5. Storrs, Note, 19 August 1915, FO 371/2486/125293.

6. Tel. McMahon to Grey, no. 450, 22 August 1915, FO 371/2486/117236.

7. Minute Clerk, 23 August 1915, on Shuckburg to Oliphant, 13 August 1915, FO 371/2486/112369.

8. Quoted in Roger Adelson, London and the Invention of the Middle East: Money, Power, and War, 1902-1922,1995, p. 190.

9. FO/882/13, The National Archive, London, Memorandum on Military, Political Situation in Mesopotamia (Section II), 28 October 1915.

10. Quoted in Adelson, p. 74.

11. Ibid., pp. 107–8.

12. Minute Clerk, 3 December 1915, on Parker to Clerk, 3 December 1915 (underlining in original), FO 371/2486/183416.

13, Minute Grey, not dated, on tel. McMahon to Grey, no. 732, 28 November 1915, Cab 37/138/ 23.

14. Chamberlain to Hardinge, private, 25 November 1915, Hardinge Papers, vol. 121.

15. Clerk’s minutes of meeting Nicolson committee with Georges-Picot, on 23 November 1915, 1 December 1915, and minute Nicolson, 27 November 1915, FO 371/2486/ 181716

16. Clayton to Wingate, private, 24 September 1916, Wingate Papers, box 140/6. 

17. Tel. Wingate to Balfour, no. 645, 18 June 1917, FO 371/3048/121588, tel. Wingate to Balfour, no. 754, 18 July 1917, FO 371/3048/142636.

18. Treasury to F.O., no. 32359/17, 10 October 1917, FO 371/3048/195477.

19. Tel. Wingate to Balfour, no. 1153, 2 November 1917, and minutes Clerk and Graham, 3 November 1917, FO 371/3048/210013.

20. See, e.g., Niall Ferguson, ‘This Vietnam Generation of Americans Has not Learnt the Lessons of History’, Daily Telegraph, 10 April 2004; Robert Fisk, ‘Iraq 1917’, Independent, 17 June 2004; also, before his replacement, Paul Bremner, head of the Coalition Provisional Authority set up to administer Iraq following the invasion, was reported as opining that the great mistake of the Shi‘is had been to rebel against the British in 1920. See also The Iraqi Independence Movement: a Case of Transgressive Contention (1918–1920) and Aula Hariri Sectarianism in Iraq: The Making of State and Nation Since 1920 By Khalil Osman 2014.

 

 

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