Before World War I, the Middle East was still part of the Ottoman Empire, an entity that, though aged and struggling, remained a significant force across vast territories. The Ottoman Empire wasn't just a kingdom; it was a living, breathing puzzle of languages, faiths, and cultures spread across Anatolia, the Arab Peninsula, North Africa, and parts of Europe. Within its borders, Armenians, Kurds, Arabs, Greeks, Jews, and Turks all navigated a complex social order that had somehow managed to coexist for centuries, albeit with occasional clashes. Under Ottoman rule, areas like Syria, Iraq, and Palestine were administrative regions rather than distinct “nations.” No neat borders divided them because borders weren’t really the point; rather, it was all about allegiance to the Sultan and respect for regional governance. But as the Empire weakened, nationalist currents began simmering under the surface, and leaders throughout the region envisioned new possibilities for autonomy or even independence.
Then came World War I, and the region became a hotspot. Now, imagine the Ottoman Empire like an old tapestry hanging by a few threads. The Ottoman leaders, joining the war on the side of Germany and Austria-Hungary, bet on the wrong horse, hoping to stave off European encroachment. In a series of ill-fated campaigns and with more than a few brutal battles, the Ottoman forces found themselves outgunned and outmaneuvered, especially after British forces encouraged the Arab Revolt. Under the lead of Hussein bin Ali, the Sharif of Mecca, and famously supported by T.E. Lawrence (who probably felt like Indiana Jones before it was cool), Arab fighters launched attacks against Ottoman forces. British and French forces gained ground, and by 1918, the Ottomans were on the losing side, with their empire crumbling in real-time.
So, what does the Treaty of Versailles have to do with this Middle Eastern unraveling? Most folks think Versailles was just about punishing Germany, and, sure, that’s where a lot of attention went. But the Middle East was far from an afterthought in the European capitals of the time. With the Ottoman Empire in tatters, European leaders suddenly had an opportunity to claim influence over regions that had previously been out of reach. Versailles laid the groundwork for this with the mandate system, a nifty way of disguising colonial interests as “caretaking.” The idea was to guide these newly freed territories toward self-governance, but in practice, it was about as subtle as a sledgehammer.
Britain and France, in particular, were eager to divvy up the spoils. Long before Versailles, they’d hashed out the Sykes-Picot Agreement in 1916, essentially a gentleman's agreement to carve up the Ottoman Empire without so much as consulting the people who lived there. Picture two people drawing lines on a map of the Middle East with an almost cavalier disregard for the cultural or ethnic realities on the ground. The agreement envisioned British control over Iraq and Palestine, while Syria and Lebanon were allocated to France. Of course, when these secret deals became public knowledge, they stirred a deep sense of betrayal among the Arab leaders, many of whom had been led to believe they would gain independence if they supported the Allies against the Ottomans.
After Versailles, British and French officials, now practically armed with rulers and pencils, began the practical work of dividing the Middle East. They wanted borders that suited their own strategic needs and economic interests rather than the needs of the local population. In Iraq, for example, Britain cobbled together a country that included Sunni Arabs, Shiite Arabs, and Kurds — three groups with historical tensions and cultural distinctions. Syria was similarly lumped together, and France had its own reasons for creating Lebanon as a separate state, hoping it would serve as a Christian enclave under their influence. The lines were drawn with little thought about the people, like creating a jigsaw puzzle without actually fitting the pieces together.
With these new borders came the League of Nations Mandate System, which was, if we’re honest, just a fancy term for indirect colonialism. The mandates were supposedly designed to prepare the territories for self-rule, but this “help” often meant extracting resources, controlling trade routes, and establishing puppet governments that aligned with British or French interests. Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon were under the mandate system, with Britain and France overseeing every detail of governance and decision-making. In theory, the mandate powers were there to assist; in reality, they were there to ensure their geopolitical interests took root.
The reactions from local Arab leaders were, unsurprisingly, less than enthusiastic. King Faisal, who had played a significant role in the Arab Revolt, found himself squeezed between British promises and the reality of foreign domination. Originally, Faisal was expected to lead an Arab kingdom that stretched across Syria, but French interests in Syria quickly sidelined his ambitions. After the French ousted him from Damascus, Faisal eventually became King of Iraq, but even in this position, he was tightly bound to British advisors and decisions. Across the region, people felt hoodwinked. Hadn’t they been promised independence? Instead, they had to contend with new rulers and arbitrary borders that split tribes, families, and entire ethnic groups.
In Palestine, things took a particularly complicated turn. The Treaty of Versailles and its related policies intersected with the Balfour Declaration, in which Britain promised a “national home for the Jewish people” in Palestine. This promise clashed sharply with earlier assurances made to Arab leaders, sparking what would become one of the most contentious and long-lasting conflicts in modern history. Jewish migration to Palestine increased in the years following the treaty, and tensions between Jewish and Arab communities grew. Britain, eager to maintain some semblance of control while appeasing both sides, managed only to exacerbate the friction. The seeds of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict were sown right here, in this mishmash of promises and policies that ignored the complexities of the people they affected.
Meanwhile, Iraq, Syria, and Lebanon became restless under mandate rule. In Iraq, British administrators found themselves dealing with a restive population that had little interest in being governed by foreign overseers. Kurdish and Shiite uprisings plagued British rule, and while Britain eventually put King Faisal on the throne to create the appearance of an independent Iraq, true sovereignty remained out of reach. In Syria and Lebanon, the French had their own struggles. French rule in Syria led to a series of revolts, most notably the Great Syrian Revolt of 1925, in which various Syrian factions united to push back against foreign control. Lebanon, on the other hand, was carefully crafted by France to ensure Christian political dominance, which only served to lay the groundwork for sectarian tensions that would boil over later in the century.
As resistance simmered across the region, a new force took shape: nationalism. For the first time, many people in the Middle East began to see themselves not just as subjects of an empire or members of a religious community but as part of distinct nations with a right to self-determination. Nationalist movements grew in response to the mandates, often framing their struggles as a fight for independence from foreign rule. Leaders in Iraq, Syria, and Palestine inspired new generations, planting the seeds for eventual independence and, ironically, future conflicts over the very borders drawn by European hands.
Oil, too, played an enormous role in this story. While the Treaty of Versailles and the mandate system may not have been explicitly about oil, the black gold soon dominated European interests in the region. In Iraq, especially, Britain established control over vast oil reserves, ensuring that they would benefit from the region's resources. The British knew that controlling Middle Eastern oil would be essential for maintaining their global influence, and the mandate system provided a convenient cover for this economic extraction. By locking in control over oil-rich areas, Britain and France created a dependency that the Middle East has wrestled with ever since.
The boundaries and power structures introduced by the Treaty of Versailles didn’t fade with the end of the mandates. Instead, they created a legacy of conflict. Whether it was Iraq’s struggles with sectarian violence, the Palestinian conflict, or Syria’s internal divisions, the decisions made at Versailles and implemented through the mandates left lasting scars. Borders drawn without regard for the region’s diversity bred divisions, and the power imbalances created in the 1920s persist today, manifesting in regional rivalries, conflicts, and uprisings.
Today, these “artificial borders” remain a source of tension. The political boundaries may look stable on a map, but they’re riddled with fault lines that keep the region in a state of flux. In places like Syria, Iraq, and Lebanon, the boundaries established in the wake of World War I continue to fuel tensions, as different groups still contest the legitimacy and fairness of these borders. Despite various attempts to reshape these boundaries through agreements, conflicts, and negotiations, the lines drawn in the sand remain stubbornly in place, a testament to the challenges of redrawing borders once they’re set.
The Treaty of Versailles and the mandate system didn’t just influence the Middle East; they set a precedent for international relations that still echoes today. The approach taken by Britain and France — dividing territories with little regard for the desires of the people who lived there — has served as a cautionary tale. We see similar issues in other parts of the world, where borders created in the colonial era continue to provoke conflict and instability. In this way, the story of the Treaty of Versailles and its role in shaping the modern Middle East offers a powerful lesson: the decisions of one era can echo far into the future, shaping the lives and conflicts of generations to come.
Imagining a different outcome at Versailles isn’t just a historical exercise; it’s a reminder of the importance of thoughtful, inclusive diplomacy. Had Britain and France approached the Middle East with an eye toward fostering real independence and respecting the region’s diversity, perhaps some of the conflicts that have scarred the region could have been avoided. Instead, we’re left with a legacy of division, resentment, and ongoing tension — a reminder of how not to make friends and influence countries. As we look at the ongoing conflicts and challenges in the Middle East today, it’s worth asking: what could have been different?
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