CHAPTER TWELVE

Jihad

THE DELIVERY OF 400 CANNONBALLS to Ain Mahdi didn’t have the effect Marshall Valée had intended — not on the siege and not on the emir. It had been a poisoned gift. Their arrival had temporarily raised the morale of the emir’s troops demoralized by the tenacity of Tidjani’s defenders. It had also tarnished the image of the emir in the eyes of tribes that disapproved of his alliance with the infidels. Nor did the gesture soften, as Valée had hoped, the emir’s opposition to the French interpretation of the boundary clause of the treaty.

The ink on the Tafna Treaty was barely dry when the translation of the Arab word fauk in Article 2, defining boundaries, became for France the overriding issue to be renegotiated. The question of the eastern boundary that Bugeaud had avoided before returning home in December of 1837 had landed now on Valée’s desk. His orders were to get the boundary issue settled in France’s favor without starting a war.

It was hard for the French to deny that Abd el-Kader was right about the correct translation of fauk. The word meant “above,” not “beyond.” The emir had proposed to Valée to settle the matter by having twenty Arabs randomly selected who would be asked to define fauk. If the replies supported the French interpretation, the emir was willing to concede the disputed territory. Valée wisely declined the offer. The Arab versions of the treaty posted around Algiers were removed. Article 2 defined areas reserved for France in the province of Algiers as “Algiers, the Sahal and the Mitidja Plain to the Kadara River in the east.”

But the river changed names as it flowed north, hence “above” referred to the Kadara and its alternate names. The Kadara and au dela, or “beyond,” as the French translation of the treaty read, would be meaningless. To say that the limit was the Kadara “and beyond” would mean there was no boundary. Abd el-Kader refused to accept this nonsensical interpretation.

Valée argued that the matter of boundaries was the only question that threatened a lasting peace. The emir was evasive, conciliatory and yet adamant that the treaty read “and above,” not “and beyond.” His ultimate argument was always the same: he could not abandon tribes that had declared loyalty to him.

Nevertheless, Abd el-Kader had been anxious to keep the peace in order to consolidate his emerging Arab nation and to prepare for the likelihood of new hostilities with France. Back in March 1838, three months before embarking on the Ain Madhi adventure, Abd el-Kader had sent Miloud Ben Arrach to Paris. With him were Judas Ben Duran and several other members of his “Jewish court,” armed with bales of much sought after ostrich feathers, six magnificent Arab horses, Berber rugs, jewel encrusted yatagans and other objects prized by Europeans. Officially, the purpose of the delegation was to offer these gifts to the royal family as a sign of their new friendship and desire for peace between the two peoples. In reality, the goal of the delegation was to inveigle itself into the court’s good graces to plead the emir’s case directly with the king.

Alerted by Valée of the likely attempt by the emir to circumvent Algiers and play on French political divisions, officials refused to allow themselves to be drawn into any discussions about the treaty. The position was firmly maintained that the Arabs’ visit was a courtesy call by the emir’s representatives, not an occasion for renegotiating Tafna. All discussions about the treaty were to be held with the governor-general in Algiers.

After three months of polite evasions and being feted by the French as a salon celebrity, Miloud Ben Arrach realized that their plan to outmaneuver Valée had failed. He returned to Algiers to discuss modifications with the governor-general who, it had become clear, possessed the sole authority to resolve the issue of boundaries for the French government.

On July 4, 1838, Ben Arrach, freshly impressed by the power and wealth of France, reached an understanding with Valée on modifying the treaty — the July annex as it became known. When Ben Arrach had protested that it still needed ratification by the emir, Valée exploded. “Then why are you wasting my time? You are supposed to have full powers to act on the emir’s behalf.” Valée insisted that Ben Arrach put his own seal on their agreement. Its ratification, he argued, would make the peace endure. Valée also knew that whatever the treaty might say, however foolish Bugeaud had been, raison d’état required the army have overland access to Constantine once it had fallen under French control.

Not until January 1839, did the emir finally meet with Ben Arrach for the first time since his dispatch to Paris in March of the previous year. “Never! Never!” he shouted at Ben Arrach, outraged by his audacity to have put his seal to the annex. “I will never ratify an agreement that will give the French a land route between Algiers and Constantine and make me lose the advantages gained from their carelessness.”

Both sides knew war was inevitable, though neither side wanted it — yet. Valée was frustrated by his orders to get the eastern boundary renegotiated without provoking a war with the emir. So, he used petty irritants to punish the emir. Valée refused to approve the emir’s choice for consul in Algiers, the Italian merchant, Carlo Garavini, who also represented the United States. The Frenchman rightly feared that Abd el-Kader might use this connection to get the Americans to support his cause. He invented excuses to throw the emir’s commercial agents in jail or expel them from the city, though they were permitted under the terms of the treaty. Muslims who wanted to leave Algiers and live in the emir’s territory were mistreated.

These measures added to the illwill caused by Bugeaud’s inability to fulfill the secret terms and the bad translations of the treaty, becoming, like a marriage going sour, an irreversible tide of bickering and mutual recrimination. The new governor-general may have had his orders but he inherited a treaty that had left Algiers out of the negotiations. Valée had little goodwill to offer, and even less of a stake in its success.

With “Omar” translating for him, Abd el-Kader had appealed directly to King Louis-Philippe in February.

“Great King of the French! God has appointed each of us to govern some of his creatures. You are in a position far superior to mine by the number, power and riches of your subjects; but on both of us He has imposed an obligation to make our people happy. Let us look together at our positions, and you will agree that on you alone depends the happiness of both our nations. ‘Sign,’ you say, ‘and if you refuse there will be war.’ Well, I will not sign, yet I want peace and only peace…

“If war breaks out again there will be no more trade, no more security for your colonists, prices will go up and production down, the blood of your soldiers will be shed in vain and it will be partisan war to the death. I am not so foolish as to believe I can oppose your troops head on, but I can harass them ceaselessly. I shall lose ground, no doubt, but I will have on my side knowledge of the country, the frugality and toughness of my troops, and more, the arm of God who supports the oppressed.

“If, however, you wish for peace, our two countries will be as one. The least of your subjects will enjoy the most perfect security among the tribes. The two peoples will intermix more and more and you will have the glory of having introduced into our lands that civilization of which the Christians are the apostles.”

Was the emir cynically trying to buy more time or was he sincere in his expressions of amity? Most likely he was sincere and trying to buy time. He had Roches at his elbow urging him to make peace and telling him not to be misled by the divisions reported in the French press. France, Roches insisted, was in Algeria to stay.

Valée sent his son-in-law, Commander de Salles, on a mission to persuade the emir to approve the treaty modifications obtained from Ben Arrach. In advance of de Salles’ arrival, Abd el-Kader had summoned a conclave of legal scholars to discuss the modifications presented by Ben Arrach. The emir emerged with a sad look on his face, surrounded by his scholars with tears in their eyes. They could not give de Salles the response he wanted. Their religion, they explained, was an insurmountable obstacle to accepting the modifications. Islam forbade the emir to abandon tribes that had sworn allegiance to him. And, if he were to move them into his territory, there would not be sufficient space for asylum. De Salles later described the display as “theatrics.”

De Salles learned here for the first time of Bugeaud’s secret terms. As proof of French bad faith, the emir pulled out the general’s written promises he had kept: the delivery of 3000 rifles, relocation of Douairs and Smelas and exile of troublesome chiefs, including Ben Ismail. The emir still wanted to appear persuadable, not simply stubborn or capricious. So de Salles was invited to present Valée’s terms to an assembly of seventy tribal chiefs. After hearing out the French officer, they discussed for three hours whether to ratify Ben Arrach’s July 4 annex to Tafna. The ubiquitous Ben Duran had distributed French money to influence the voices of some of Abd el-Kader’s chiefs, but this time to no effect. The decision of the chiefs was unanimous — rejection.

Frustrated by the failure of his son-in-law’s meeting with the emir, Valée proposed that his government treat the annex as if it had officially settled the question of the disputed territories. Ben Arrach was, after all, the emir’s foreign minister and the document bore his seal. Valée then offered his government three different responses to the stalemate: 1) to adopt an attitude of an injured party by protesting the assertions of the emir and hope with time and continued negotiation to convince him to give up his claims, 2) to simply declare renewed warfare, or 3) to occupy the disputed territory militarily while at the same time informing the emir that this was not to be viewed as a hostile act, but a temporary occupation until the matter was settled definitively. In time, the government would choose Valée’s third proposal, believing that the emir might protest, but not dare to do anything.

May 1839. With Roches translating, the emir appealed again to the king, this time using a mixture of flattery, politesse, naiveté and recrimination. But was his naiveté feigned or genuine, like the Russian peasants who always wanted to believe in the essential benevolence of their Tsar, whose good intentions were twisted by the self-serving functionaries around him? Reminding the king that he had already sent three letters that, the emir assumed, must have been intercepted, he wrote, “You are too kind and courteous to refuse me the satisfaction of knowing your true feelings. May my last effort to communicate be successful.”

“…Yes, your soldiers dream only of new fighting and fresh conquest. I am certain this is not your idea. You have not landed on the shores of Africa to exterminate the inhabitants or to drive them into the desert. You have not come to turn them into a nation of slaves but rather to implant in them a spirit of liberty which is your nation’s most powerful lever, one which it has also granted to other countries.14 Is it by force of arms and by bad faith that your representatives are going to achieve this end? If the Arabs end up believing that you have come to attack their religion and conquer their country, their hatred will become stronger than ever. They will escape my control and my authority, and our common hopes of fraternal cohabitation, will disappear forever...”

To General Gérard, the new Minister of War, he wrote: “… I thought that as one who has nothing to add to his military glory, you would never see in the French occupation of Africa an occasion for gaining some additional military glory. You, who know how to make war, surely must know how to make peace and appreciate its benefits.

“Why is peace threatened? For a few miles of territory and an overland route whose natural barriers make impractical. Doesn’t France have enough glory, enough space, or must it acquire still more at the expense of my influence over the Arabs whom I am trying to keep under my control?

“…I pray to God that you use your influence on the king to affirm my peaceful intentions; and that you and the king’s noble son might come and visit this country and meet the man whom you wrongly regard as you enemy. Once you recognize my sincerity and desire to do good, your genius and clarity of mind, will help me to calm — be it through civilizing or through arms — the fanaticism of populations which are only just beginning to value the advantages of peace and industry.

“May God give your armies victory so long as they fight for a just cause.”

The emir’s appeals were in vain. He was writing to a government that was paralyzed by the unspoken realization that it had put itself in an embarrassing situation, and was ready to do anything to escape it. The French government had misled the Parliament by declaring that the difficulties surrounding the Tafna Treaty had been smoothed over to France’s advantage — meaning they had treated Ben Arrach’s signature as authoritative on behalf of the emir.

In Abd el-Kader’s mind, European “industry” meant armaments. Developing his own weapons-manufacturing capacity was the primary goal of the emir’s modernization campaign in 1839. To keep the tribes under control, he needed a disciplined, standing army. For it to be effective, he needed the best weaponry of the day. He had surrounded himself with foreign experts and, while some were military deserters, others were professionals under contract from France and elsewhere.

In July, Roches had been sent by the emir to inspect the manufacturing facilities in various locations. When he arrived in Taza, Roches was shocked to learn that two days earlier a fateful decision had been taken during a gathering of chieftains. They had decided to declare jihad the next time France violated the treaty.

Prior to the meeting at Taza, the emir had asked for guidance from the most-respected legal scholars in Morocco, including the cadis Ali al-Tasuli and Abd al-Hadi al-Alawi. He had sent them a long list of written questions related to war and peace, to his assertion of authority over the tribes, and justifications for imposing taxes in time of peace, punishing rebellious tribes and for declaring a just war. On all these questions, the emir wanted reassurance that he was acting in accordance with religious law.¹⁵ The emir’s agents had brought back their lengthy responses, which affirmed the emir’s authority to act as he was doing. These scholarly affirmations were backed by the gift of Sultan Abderrahman’s caftan, a gift that officially vested the emir with the mantle of his authority. Roches protested, but saw that it was futile. He knew what he had feared most would now occur — that he would have to fight his own countrymen.

The emir, however, had other things on his mind. Abd el-Kader had frequently told Roches he should marry. Every Muslim knew a man was not complete without a family.

He had proposed giving him for a wife a member of his own family. Roches knew these suggestions from the emir were really commands that he had only deferred. One day the emir called Roches into his tent.

“Because war is imminent, I shall live in Tagdempt. You too will live there. I have ordered a house to be prepared for you and on your arrival you will marry the daughter of the former hakem of Medea.” Roches began to protest, but the emir cut him short. “The matter is fixed. She knows the town. Her ways are more like your own than the girl from my own family that I originally intended. It has been decided by the council. You must obey.” Three weeks later Roches found himself a reluctant married man.

Summer turned to fall. In late October, the emir and Omar were inspecting the factories at Tagdempt when two exhausted couriers galloped up to them. They had just ridden 180 miles in twenty-four hours to blurt out the news. The French had violated the treaty by marching through the Iron Gates — a narrow defile through the Biban Mountains that would give them their desired overland link from Algiers to the province of Constantine.

Speechless at first, Abd el-Kader began speaking rapidly to the messengers in short jerky phrases as he often did when he was emotional. Afterward, he became calm and said quietly to Roches, “God be praised. The infidel has broken the peace. We will show them we are not afraid of war.” Immediately, the emir dictated letters to Roches for his caliphs.

When the emir had finished, Roches started to return to his tent. But the emir asked him to stay.

“Why are you sad, Omar,” he asked sharply. “You ought to rejoice that God has now given you an opportunity to prove your faith.”

“Have I not often told you that I dreaded war because it will bring disaster to you and your people. Cannot you understand that my heart is torn at the thought of fighting the country that bore me and which shelters my father?”

“Those are blasphemous words. Have you forgotten that the day you embraced Islam, our holy religion, you broke the bonds that tied you to the infidels? You speak like a Christian, Omar. Remember, you are a Muslim.”

Flushed, Roches looked the emir in the eyes and blurted out his secret. “I am not a Muslim.”

The emir was stupefied. He turned pale and his lips quivered. He raised his hands and eyes toward the sky. He went to the front of his tent and opened the flap in case anyone might have overheard. Abd el-Kader came back and said more gently, “You must have misheard me, Omar. Those words deserve death. Your mouth spoke, but not your heart. Drive out the devil in you and repeat with me the shahada.”

“No! Let us make an end of the lies. I am not a Muslim. Take my life. It is yours,” Roches answered trembling.

La’ib bi al-Din, the emir repeated, horrified at what he had just heard. A trifler of religion. A trifler of religion. The emir then stood up and said coldly, “Go! I leave God to punish your soul. Take your body out of my sight. Go, and never repeat before a Muslim the blasphemy I have heard, or I shall no longer be answerable for your life.”

Roches bowed his head and withdrew. Dazed, he somehow managed to reach his tent where he collapsed in the grip of fever. A few days later he escaped to the French lines. “I have always believed,” he wrote later, “that Abd el-Kader feigned not to notice my escape. I owe him an immense debt of gratitude.”

The emir left Tagdempt with a small escort for Medea, where he issued orders to his caliphs to prepare for jihad. He also sent to Valée a letter warning him of his intentions.

“…The son of the king set out with an army corps from Constantine to Algiers. This was done without the least warning to me, not even a few words to explain such a violation. You have now proclaimed all the territory between Algiers and Constantine to be no longer under my authority. So, the rupture comes from you. Nevertheless, so you do not accuse me of treachery, I am warning you that I am about to launch an attack. Warn all travelers, your garrisons, your farmers to take whatever precautions you deem necessary.”

The governor-general had expected the emir to protest. But he had wrongly assumed he could mollify Abd el-Kader with soothing assurances. Valée, believing the letter was nothing more than the expected huffing and puffing, chose not to alarm the colonists in the Mitidja. Instead, he asked Ben Duran to take his reply to the emir. Ben Duran dutifully rode up to Medea, where he read Valée’s letter out loud to the emir’s war council.

Couched in soothing phrases, Valée asked him to have patience while he was awaiting orders from Paris. Things would be arranged in due time. Ben Duran, the consummate middleman, had been charged by the governor-general to dissuade the emir. “Reconsider your decision,” he advised the council. “France is strong and its army is courageous and well-disciplined in the arts of war. You will be defeated.” Ben Duran continued disingenuously, “You are wrong to be offended by a minor event such as this. The French had no intention to deceive you. This was merely a distraction, a pleasure trip for the king’s son.”

The council adjourned to reconsider Ben Duran’s words. That night, Ben Duran spoke privately with Abd el-Kader about the dangers of starting a war. He warned the emir that his resources were limited and his troops were not ready. “I know all that,” the emir replied, “but my caliphs want war and some consider me an infidel because I have wanted to keep the peace.”

On November 18, 1839, the council reconvened. Again, the caliphs and caids unanimously proclaimed jihad. But before dispersing, Abd el-Kader addressed the council one last time to express his own reserve.

“If jihad is what you want, I will agree, but on one condition. You will suffer losses, great trials and tribulations. Swear on the book of Sidi el-Bukhari that you will never abandon me as long as I am holding the banner of jihad.” The emir had not forgotten the aftermath of Clauzel’s sack of Mascara, when defeat had sent his allies flying away.

With one voice, a vow of loyalty to the emir was declared. Ben Duran was sent back to Algiers with a letter for Valée from the emir — an apology and a justification in one. Everyone wanted war, he explained. He didn’t want it, but the majority did and he had to submit to the law. His heart was pure. He had warned him in advance. His cause was just.

The emir announced the unpopular special war tax, or maaouna. Abd el-Kader made the first extraordinary contribution to the state treasury by selling his family’s jewelry. The emir’s three caliphs surrounding Algiers were ordered to lead the attacks: Sidi Embarek Ben Allal of Miliana, El-Berkhani of Medea and Ben Salem, his Kabyle from Djurdjura. The emir reminded them of the tactics they were to use: No frontal assaults. Harass, and then harass more. Cut their lines of supply and communication. Exhaust their soldiers. Let the sun and heat do their work.