King ‘Abd Al-‘Aziz and the Rise of Saudi Arabia:
A Dutch Consul’s View
Dr. Jacques
Waardenburg
I shall first
present the main historical events leading up to ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s regaining of
Riyadh, his extension of his rule to the whole of Nejd and its Dependencies,
including the holy places, and the foundation of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia in
1932 (1351). These facts are well known and I shall simply report them. Second,
I shall address the views of D. van der Meulen (1894–1989; 1311/12–1409/10),
the Dutch Consul and later Minister Plenipotentiary of the Netherlands in
Jeddah (1926–31 (1344–50) and 1941–5 (1360–4)) on these events and on the rise
of Saudi Arabia in general. I shall also compare some of his views with those
held by H. St John B. Philby (1885–1960 (1302/3–79/80)). Third, I shall report on some of Van der
Meulen’s publications and private notes relating to King ‘Abd al-‘Aziz; Van der
Meulen was able to meet the king on several occasions and developed an evident
admiration for him. In conclusion, I shall show that the writings of relatively
competent, critical and sympathetic
observers like Van der Meulen can constitute an important source for the
understanding of history when taken in conjunction with the official documents.
This is especially so if these writings throw a new light on the personalities
who made or were involved in the making of history.
Some historical facts:
As is well
known, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz Ibn ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Saud was born in Riyadh in 1876
(1293)[i]
as the eldest son of ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Faisal al-Saud (d. 1927 (1346)) and
Sarah bint Sudairi. In January 1891 (Jumada II, 1308) the family left Riyadh to
escape the domination of the al-Rashid of Ha’il, who had captured it in 1885
(1302/3), occupying the whole of Nejd in 1891 (1308/9). ‘Abd al- Aziz was then
a boy, and seems to have been suffering from rheumatic fever.[ii]
He spent some time with his mother and other relatives in Bahrain, then
virtually a British protectorate. He then joined ‘Abd al-Rahman to live with the
Banu Murra, where he gained experience of Bedouin life. Next he accompanied his
father to Kuwait, on the invitation of Muhammad al-Sabah and at the instigation
of the Ottoman government, with a small pension paid by the Ottoman Empire;
apparently they lived there in very modest circumstances. Mubarak al-Sabah, a
half-brother of Muhammad, came to power after he had murdered his half-brother
in May 1896 (11/1313). He took an interest in ‘Abd al-‘Aziz and initiated him
into international politics, to the influence and implications of which the
maritime city of Kuwait could not be insensitive. The Turks were allied with
the Germans, while Russia and especially Britain resisted German and Ottoman
influence in the area. Whereas the Turks supported the al-Rashid, the British
backed the al-Sabah. After an attack by Mubarak al-Sabah and ‘Abd al-‘Aziz on
Rashidid territory in 1901 had ultimately failed as a result of Mubarak’s
defeat in the battle of Sarif, there was a serious threat posed to Kuwait of an
attack mounted by the Rashidids in revenge. Kuwait was only saved by the
presence of a British cruiser from the potentially devastating consequences of
a further Rashidid attack.
‘Abd al-‘Aziz then distinguished himself by
regaining Riyadh from the Banu Rashid by a surprise attack made with a small
group of followers on 15 January 1902 (5 Shawwal 1319). By 1904 (1321/2) he had
made himself master of the territory that his grandfather Faisal Ibn Turki (d.
1865) had ruled in Nejd half a century earlier. In that same year his great
enemy Muhammad Ibn Rashid was killed. After continuous fighting with Bedouin
tribes, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz succeeded in conquering al-Hasa’ in 1913, and established
his authority all the way to the Gulf. These achievements were made possible
through the creation of the Ikhwan, the Saudi ‘Brethren’, who devoted their
lives to the cause of Islam and were completely loyal to the state. As soldiers
the Ikhwan seem to have been almost invincible, ensuring the military successes
of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, to whom their obedience was unquestioning.
The
organization of the Ikhwan after 1912 (1330) was part of a broader scheme of
disciplining the Bedouin, whose continuous conflicts made any central authority
and state formation difficult. Since 1909 (1327) great numbers of Bedouin had
been settled in hijar (sing. hijra, ‘agricultural settlement’), moving from the
desert to cultivated land. At the same time they had to give up their old ways
of life – now stigmatized as jahiliyya, kufr and shirk – and received fresh training in the true
Wahhabi doctrine and way of life.
The hijar
were large agricultural colonies around natural springs or wells, which made
oases possible. In these colonies the old tribal bonds were replaced by
religious fraternity, and no particularisms were allowed. Each hijra had its
mutawwi‘un (lit. ‘those who subdue’), the religious personnel employed in
teaching the people; they might be called ‘missionaries’ of the Wahhabi cause
and, if necessary, they could carry out punishments. The thus ‘converted’
Bedouin became Ikhwan, aroused by the mutawwi‘un to religious zeal and
unconditional obedience to the Imam, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz. The way in which they were
disciplined and religion was inculcated in them left them no other choice. As a
result of this indoctrination, the Ikhwan
are reported to have been extremely distrustful of anything coming from
abroad. They considered the world beyond Nejd simply as balad al-kuffar (‘the Land of the Infidels’), the ‘infidels’
being less non-Muslims than non-Wahhabi Muslims. Consequently, the Ikhwan
tended to see life simply in terms of Holy War in the literal sense of the
expression.
In the towns,
as distinct from the desert and the sparse agricultural land, the Saudi
institutions and way of life had a longer history, and here the new state had
more immediate control than in the desert regions. Tribal sheikhs, for
instance, were brought to Riyadh for further training, but also so that they
could be held responsible for possible disturbances in their tribes. All tribes
were treated equally, and the old distinction between the ‘leading’ tribes and
the ‘dependent’ or ‘client’ tribes that had to pay them tribute was abandoned;
they all had the same duty to pay zakat.
All the state’s authorities were based in religion, the Imam himself
(‘Abd al-Rahman, the father of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz), the ‘ulama (in particular the Al al-shaikh), and the
mutawwi‘un (‘missionaries’, but also ‘religious police’). This situation
endowed ‘Abd al-‘Aziz with immense power as an absolute leader. ‘State’ decisions
were in fact the decisions of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, who was in personal contact not
only with the leaders but also with broad groups of the population whom he
received at his public audiences.
Paying zakat was a sign of
obedience.
With the
outbreak of the First World War, the Arabian peninsula achieved a considerable
strategic importance. The Ottoman Turks were the official rulers of the larger
part of it, but their effective authority was largely restricted to the Hejaz
and the border areas; behind the Turks German interests were involved, and a
plan to have the Sultan-Caliph of Istanbul proclaim a jihad of all Muslims
against their non-Muslim rulers had been worked out in Germany. From the other
side, it was in the British interest to subvert the Ottoman Empire by stirring
up the Arabs against the Turks.
It was in
this sense that the British government’s Arab Bureau in Cairo incited Husain
Ibn Ali, the Sharif of Makkah, to proclaim an ‘Arab Revolt’ against Ottoman
Turkish rule. He did so in Makkah in June 1916 (Sha‘ban 1334), upon which the
British sent him arms and money along with T. E. Lawrence as their
representative and an expert on Arab affairs. On the other hand, the India
Office in London, which was responsible for waging the war in Iraq, had already
dispatched Captain Shakespear from Kuwait with a military and political mission
to ‘Abd al-‘Aziz in October 1914 (Dhu’l Hijja 1332), with the object of
persuading him to join the British cause against the Turks who, for their part,
were also busy soliciting the active support of the Arab tribes. Britain in
return was willing to recognize ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s independent rule in Nejd and Al
Hasa’, guarantee his independence, and protect him against possible Turkish
attacks. These terms were agreed on after a fresh meeting between Captain
Shakespear and ‘Abd al-‘Aziz in January 1915 (Rabi‘ I, 1333), and all of this
was ratified in a treaty with Sir Percy Cox at Qatif in December 1915 (Safar
1334). Britain was to supply ‘Abd al-‘Aziz with arms and money for the duration
of hostilities in return for his joining the war on the British side. The two
principals met again at Ujair in November 1916 (Muharram 1335), when ‘Abd
al-‘Aziz made enquiries about the promises made by the British to Husain Ibn
Ali of Makkah, who had now become king.[iii]
‘Abd al-‘Aziz spent the years 1916 and 1917 (1334–5) largely in warfare against
Arab tribes supporting the Turks, especially the Banu Rashid, and by the end of
1917 (1335) he had Central Arabia under his control.[iv]
By that time, on 30 November 1917 (15 Safar 1336), St John Philby, coming from
the Gulf, had arrived at Riyadh, negotiated with ‘Abd al-‘Aziz on behalf of the
British, and continued his journey to the Hejaz, where he met Husain Ibn Ali in
January 1918 (Rabi‘ I, 1336). The latter refused to let him go back to Nejd
over land, so Philby returned to ‘Abd al-‘Aziz via Egypt, Bombay and Basra. He
then stayed in Riyadh as head of the British Political Mission
to Central Arabia. Just as the Arab Bureau put Lawrence at Husain Ibn Ali’s
disposal, the India Office put Philby at ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s disposal; apparently there was no co-ordination between
the two Offices.
After the
First World War ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s son Faisal was invited to visit Britain;
accompanied by Philby, he arrived in London at the end of October 1919 (Safar
1338). In the meantime ‘Abd al-‘Aziz annexed Asir in 1919 (1338), a step that
became definite when he ended the power of his archenemies the al-Rashid by
taking Ha’il, the capital of the Banu Rashid, on 2 November 1921 (1 Rabi‘ I,
1340). The dependent territories of Nejd, which already included al-Hasa’, were
now extended considerably. ‘Abd al-‘Aziz was now the absolute ruler of Central
Arabia, which was henceforth subjected to Wahhabi doctrine and practice.
The relations
between ‘Abd al-‘Aziz and Husain Ibn Ali had never been friendly, and they
finally led to war in the so-called al-Khurma-Turaba dispute of 1918 (1337),
with a battle in which Husain was the aggressor. The British were still
supportive of Husain, who was now King of the Hejaz; this was the policy line
of Lawrence, who favoured Husain and, more particularly, his son Faisal. Faisal, after his misadventure in Syria,
became the King of Iraq, bordering Nejd, in August 1921 (Dhu’l-hijja 1340). The
policy of Philby, who favoured ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, was not followed by the British
government; the latter was well aware of the fact that he could not act so long
as the British did not allow him to do so. They succeeded in containing the
Saudi state, whose Ikhwan were repulsed from Iraq and Transjordan, or simply
annihilated there. In the autumn of 1922 (1341) ‘Abd al-‘Aziz signed a treaty,
again with Percy Cox in Ujair, concerning the borders between his territories
and Iraq. In the same year he conquered al-Jawf, and a confrontation between
Nejd and the Hejaz was thus threatened.
King Husain
Ibn Ali’s misrule, his extortion of money even from hajjis, and the general
state of corruption in the Hejaz made the British reconsider their support for
him. He became ever more pretentious, taking the title of Caliph on 7 March
1924, shortly after, on 3 March 1924 (26 Rajab 1342), the Turkish Grand
Assembly in Ankara had abolished the Ottoman Caliphate. This move of Husain’s
evoked considerable opposition in the Muslim world, and the anger of ‘Abd
al-‘Aziz. A conference aimed at a reconciliation held under British auspices in
Kuwait failed and was dissolved on 12 April 1924 (7 Ramadan 1342).
Confrontation between the Wahhabi Saudi Sultanate of Nejd and the Hashimi
Kingdom of the Hejaz was now unavoidable.
The Ikhwan
now spontaneously took Ta’if of their own accord in 1924 (1343). King Husain
abdicated in favour of his son Ali, and sought refuge in Aqaba. The whole of
the world Muslim community was in great agitation about what might happen to
the holy places. Not only the Muslim world but the West too stood aghast at the
impact that an independent Islamic state founded within the twentieth century,
and moreover one of an extreme, and some might say a sectarian, orientation, could
have. ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, however, called the dreaded Ikhwan to order. On 16 October 1924 (17 Rabi‘ I,
1343) they entered Makkah in the state of ihram and performed the ‘umra,
avoiding any bloodshed; ‘Abd al-‘Aziz followed later, equally in the state of
ihram. Madinah fell after a siege on 5
December 1925 (19 Jumada I, 1344) and Jeddah was taken after a siege of one
year on 23 December 1925 (7 Jumada II, 1344), after Ali Ibn Husain had
abdicated and left for Iraq.
To the relief
of Muslims all over the world, it was announced that the holy places, now under
Saudi protection, would remain open to Muslims of any school and conviction.
All places of religious significance were purified of non-Islamic accretions
according to Wahhabi prescriptions, but without violence; only the dome above
Muhammad’s grave in the mosque of Madinah was allowed to remain in place; but praying there was forbidden.
On 8 January
1926 (23 Jumada II, 1344), ‘Abd al-‘Aziz was proclaimed King of the Hejaz. The
new state was immediately recognized by Britain, France and the Netherlands,
and a British cruiser called at the port of Jeddah on 1 March 1926 (16 Sha‘ban
1344) on a friendly visit. ‘Abd al-‘Aziz had come to Jeddah for the occasion,
and a few days later he received the newly accredited Dutch consul, Daniel van
der Meulen, together with his predecessor, Ch. O. van der Plas, at the house of
Muhammad Nasif Effendi.
Developments
in Arabia had been closely followed by those colonizing countries with large
Muslim colonial populations, and the Netherlands was no exception. The
mastermind here was Christiaan Snouck Hurgronje, who as a young man had spent
several months in Makkah in 1884/5 (1301/2) and had been kept informed of
developments there during the following forty years. The Dutch Consulate in
Jeddah was in charge of the hajjis coming from Indonesia, who were more
numerous than those of other countries. Jeddah was an important source of
information about what was going on among Indonesian Muslims. When Snouck chose Daniel van der Meulen as
the new consul, he undoubtedly hoped that his former student would carry out
the policies that he had himself defended during his active diplomatic life.
After the First World War more conservative forces had begun to dominate Dutch
colonial policy, whatever the promises made to the Indonesians during the war.
All these developments took place much to the dismay of Snouck Hurgronje. Van
der Meulen succeeded Ch. O. van der Plas, a brilliant linguist who was fluent
in Arabic, as Van der Meulen was to become. But before going into this subject
we must first proceed with presenting some more historical facts.
One of the
first measures ‘Abd al-‘Aziz took after conquering Makkah and Madinah was to
provide better conditions for the hajjis. Sanitary provisions were improved,
security was guaranteed, the customary extortion of money from pilgrims – even
by the public authorities – was ended, and corruption was combated.[v]
On the other hand, the hajj taxes were raised to recompense the better services
rendered to the pilgrims. Until the 1940s these taxes were still the main
source of income of the state. With regard to the international character of
the hajj and the worries existing for
instance among Indian Muslims, two international Muslim Congresses were organized
in Makkah in the summers of 1926 and 1927 (1344 and 1346). ‘Abd al-‘Aziz there
affirmed his full personal
responsibility for the holy places, the hajj itself and the hajjis. He rejected
any form of international Muslim jurisdiction or even supervision over them, as
well as any form of pan-Islamic or pan-Arab policy.
In his
policies and ideology, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz kept aloof from the surrounding Arab
countries, restricting himself to Arabia proper and the territories under his
rule. This self-imposed restriction is in reciprocal accord with the
containment policy that had in practice been applied by Britain to the Wahhabi
state since the First World War, if not earlier. As a result, the role of the
Ikhwan as a military force shifted from
conquest to policing. The Ikhwan, disciplined and drilled in the spirit of
jihad, saw this abandonment of forceful action to convert the Muslim community
to Wahhabi doctrine and practice as a softening, if not a betrayal, of the old
ideals. By implication, the Wahhabi element in the character of the state was
diminished. And indeed shortly before this, in 1927 (12/12/1346), ‘Abd
al-‘Aziz’s father ‘Abd al-Rahman, who was an ‘alim and bore the title of the
Imam of the Wahhabi state, had died.
As a first
step to unification, on 29 January 1927 (25 Rajab 1345) ‘Abd al-‘Aziz was
proclaimed King of Hejaz, Nejd and its Dependencies. A revolt led by Hamad Ibn
Rifadah broke out in the Hejaz against this policy in 1932 (1350/1), but was
quickly put down. The political process was crowned with the unification of the
whole territory as the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, consisting of Nejd, al-Hasa,
Hejaz and Asir. ‘Abd al-‘Aziz was proclaimed King of Saudi Arabia on 26
September 1932 (21 Jumada I, 1351).
In 1934
(1352) there was a short war with Yemen, which turned to Saudi Arabia’s
advantage. An attempt on ‘Abd al-‘Aziz by Yemenis in the Great Mosque at Makkah
failed. The only other independent state in the peninsula was Oman, which,
interestingly enough, also has a puritan community, that of the Kharijis, in
the interior of the country. Aden was a British colony, and Hadramaut and the
smaller emirates along the Gulf were British protectorates. Saudi Arabia was to
be an Islamic state where Hanbalism was to remain the official madhhab, though
other Muslims could follow their own madhahib. The person of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz
would stand as a model for the Saudi lifestyle. Yet even already in the course
of his own reign, Wahhabi Hanbalism did not stand in the way of modernization
processes in the country, which were indeed often initiated by ‘Abd al-‘Aziz
himself. Under his son Faisal this model would form the basis of an active
policy of modernizing the country while simultaneously founding international
Islamic organizations in which Saudi Arabia was to play a pivotal role.
Several
initiatives taken by ‘Abd al-‘Aziz in subsequent years are deserving of
mention. First of all, in the 1930s oil was discovered in Arabia, and the king,
who had been plagued by financial problems during the recession of 1929 (1348)
and the following years, during which revenues from the hajj diminished, gladly
welcomed American oil companies, in particular Aramco, who offered favourable
contracts. The extraction of oil was seen at the time as a purely economic
matter; the oil companies were not to interfere in the internal affairs of the
country, and this led to the creation of two separate worlds.[vi]
Secondly,
with regard to the Palestine problem, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz took initiatives to
co-operate with various other Arab countries during the 1930s. He had serious
discussions on the question with Roosevelt and Churchill in Egypt in February
1945 (Rabi‘ I, 1365).[vii]
Together with King Farouk of Egypt he issued a public warning on the
consequences of continued Zionist immigration into Palestine.
Thirdly, it
is a remarkable fact that during the Second World War ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, who was
one of the few rulers of an Arab country that had not known European
colonialism, opted from the beginning for the Allied side. This contrasted with
the behaviour of a number of Arab politicians, including some prominent
officials in his immediate circle, who either wavered or sided with the Axis.
Following the
increase in international interest in ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, and in particular after
his taking of the Hejaz in 1924/5 (1342–4), several books about him saw the
light in the West. First and foremost are two books by St John Philby, The
Heart of Arabia (1922) and Arabia of the Wahhabis (1928); he was also the
author of a number of other books on Arabia, including a scholarly biography of
the King, under the title Arabian Jubilee (1952). The Arab American Amin
al-Rihani first published a book on several Arab kings in Arabic, and then
brought out the section on ‘Abd al-‘Aziz in English translation, with the title
Ibn Saud of Arabia. His People and His Land (1928). In 1933 appeared Kenneth
Williams’s Ibn Saud, followed a year later by H. C. Armstrong’s Lord of Arabia.[viii]
A certain segment of the Western public has always felt a certain fascination
with the personality of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, and it is against this background that
we should give our attention to the views expressed by Daniel van der Meulen
about the rise of Saudi Arabia and the figure of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz.
D. van der Meulen on Islam and the rise of Saudi Arabia:
Since the
life and work of D. van der Meulen (1894–1989 (1311/12–1409/10)) may not be
widely known, some data may be given here to serve as background information
when considering his views on the rise of Saudi Arabia and ‘Abd al-‘Aziz.[ix]
Daniel van
der Meulen was born in Laren (Gld.) in the Netherlands in 1894 (1311/2). His
father was a schoolteacher and belonged to the Reformed Church (Gereformeerde
Kerk), one of the Dutch branches of Calvinism. Daniel himself was a convinced
and practising Protestant Christian throughout his lifetime. After primary and
secondary school he enrolled in 1912 (1330) at the University of Leiden in the
department in which future members of the Civil Service in the former Dutch
Indies received their training. This was a three-year course at the time, so
that he entered the civil service in Sumatra during the First World War (in
which Holland was neutral) in the autumn of 1915 (1333), and stayed there for
eight years, returning to Holland in 1923 (1341). Here he was chosen to become
the future Dutch Consul in Jeddah, which meant that he had to undertake an
intensive study of Arabic and Islam, again at the University of Leiden, under
the direct guidance of Christiaan Snouck Hurgronje, over the period 1923–5
(1342–4). He left Holland on 2 January 1926 (17 Jumada II, 1344), arriving by
ship in Jeddah a month later, on 6 February 1926 (23 Rajab 1344), after a short
stay in Egypt. He arrived, then, a month and a half after Jeddah had been
captured by ‘Abd al- ‘Aziz on 23 December 1925 (7 Jumada II, 1344).
His posting
to the Jeddah Consulate was for six years, up to 1931.[x]
He did not stay in the post all the year round, but only for that part of the
year when Indonesian hajjis (djawa) arrived for the hajj, performed it, and
left again to return to Indonesia. They had Dutch pilgrim passports; the Dutch
government had to supervise their arrival, stay in and departure from the
Hejaz, and to intervene in case of difficulties. Van der Meulen was also an
enthusiastic traveller, both privately and on duty. He went to Yemen from 25
February until 22 April 1931 (7 Shawwal – 4 Dhu ’l-Hijja 1349), and when he had
to be on duty in the Hadramaut, he took the opportunity to explore an unknown
part of the country in the summer of 1931 (the beginning of 1350), together
with the German geographer Hermann von Wissmann. They published the results
together in Hadhramaut. Some of its Mysteries Unveiled (Leiden, 1932). This
book gave him an international reputation. From 1931 until 1939 (1350–8) Van
der Meulen returned to a civil service posting in Sumatra. In March 1939
(Muharram/Safar 1358) he was in Aden again, where he and Von Wissmann planned
to continue the exploration that they had begun in 1931 (1349). This happened
in the spring of 1939 (1358). After the war they again published their results
together in a book, Aden to the Hadhramaut. A Journey in South Arabia (London, 1947).
Van der
Meulen then took up a civil service post in Makassar, South Celebes, where he
arrived in mid-1939 (Jumada I or II, 1358), just before the outbreak of the
Second World War. Over a year later he was requested to take up the post in
Jeddah again; in the mean time it had been upgraded to a legation. Van der
Meulen arrived there by sea on 2 April 1941 (5 Rabi‘ II, 1360) and was to stay
until the summer of 1945 (1364).[xi]
He had immediately to repatriate a number of Indonesian pilgrims; but during
the war hardly any further Indonesian hajjis arrived. He had, however, to send
a number of Indonesians to India, and also carried out other duties. He had to
accomplish missions to the Yemen and to the famine-stricken Hadramaut, to Egypt
and Transjordan and to Palestine, where he worked on a report for the Dutch
government, at the time in exile in London, on the situation of the Arabs, Jews
and British, and made proposals for a possible solution.[xii]
All of these were diplomatic tasks of a certain importance. At the end of 1944
(Muharram 1364) he had an audience with ‘Abd al- ‘Aziz in Marat under
unexpected conditions, while the latter was on his way to Egypt to meet
Roosevelt and Churchill, precisely over the issue of Palestine.
From the end
of November 1945 (Dhul’l-Hijja 1364) Van der Meulen was again in the civil
service in the Dutch Indies, shortly before sovereignty was transferred to
Indonesia, a development that he had for a long time already regarded as
necessary. He worked for nearly three years for the Information Agency. In July
1948 (Ramadan 1367) he returned to Holland, where he was to spend the rest of
his life. From 1949 until 1951 (1368–70) he was organizer and Director of
Netherlands Broadcasting in Arabic, and he retired in 1951 (1370) at the age of
57. In 1952 he made a last journey to the Hadramaut, and also paid a last visit
to ‘Abd al- ‘Aziz. During the last 28 years of his life he wrote books and
articles, and gave addresses and lectured about Saudi, Near Eastern and
Indonesian developments. And of course he continued his travels, to Saudi
Arabia among other places. Van der Meulen passed away in 1989 (1409/10) at the
venerable age of 95.
Apart from
his publications the legacy of Daniel van der Meulen contains a great number of
photographs taken in Arabia, the Indies and elsewhere; various kinds of
documents; and, perhaps most important of all, a number of diaries, which he
carefully kept up during his years in Arabia and the Dutch East Indies. They
contain the material from which he wrote his memoirs, published in English
under the title of Don't You Hear the Thunder. A Dutchman's Life Story (Leiden, 1981).[xiii]
Even more important for our subject is his book The Wells of Ibn Saud (London,
1957).[xiv]
It reads like an epic history, and sometimes even like a boy’s adventure story;
the Dutch text in particular is extremely well written. It is full of personal
observations and experiences, and evokes a number of more or less well-known
people and a human world intensely lived and experienced, but now belonging to
the past. From these pages it becomes clear how much ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s life and
work had meant to this attentive observer from the Netherlands, and how
attached he felt to the Arabs and Arabia.
Beyond these
published memoirs, however, there are a number of diaries, parts of which have
been typed out. They open a door on to the past and give a glimpse of how
Daniel van der Meulen witnessed and judged two major events of his time, the
rise of Saudi Arabia and the end of the Dutch East Indies. It is to be hoped
that one day all these archival materials will be brought together and made
accessible to the interested public.[xv]
Before going
into Van der Meulen’s experiences of Saudi Arabia and ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, a few
words are in order about his views of Islam. As a pupil of Snouck Hurgronje,
Van der Meulen saw Islam in the first instance as a legal and doctrinal system
that had been constructed during its early centuries and handed on to the
present time. But whereas Snouck Hurgronje considered that a future would be
afforded to Muslims only if they were to take the leap into the modern world
and out of the traditional system – possibly holding on to the Islamic religion
as a matter of personal faith – Van der Meulen looked for a future within the
possibilities offered by a reform of the system itself.
According to
Van der Meulen, Islam, in the traditional forms of its system, finds itself in
a crisis in the modern world, since the traditional forms do not respond to the
needs and problems of the contemporary world. So, like many Protestant
missionaries at the time, he used to speak of the ‘crisis’ of Islam.[xvi]
He was searching for forces and orientations in the contemporary Muslim world
that could establish a connection between the Islamic faith and the problems of
the modern world. This would require effective reforms to the system and a
renewal of traditional rules of life.
Van der
Meulen had the greatest respect for the religious faith of Islam, a still point
in the transient modern world. Standing as he did in the Calvinist tradition,
with its experience of similar problems that had led to intense internal
discussions in Protestant Holland in the last decades of the nineteenth
century, Van der Meulen was sensitive to the situation of contemporary Islam.
His hope was apparently that by returning to the sources of their religions,
Islam as well as Christianity would be able to respond to the problems of the
modern world. There is reason to assume that he saw ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s radical
reforms in Arabia as a potential answer to the challenge of modernity, very
much akin to the way in which an open-minded orientation in his own Reformed
Church assumed the full responsibility of believers for the well-being of the
world. We must leave aside here the question of the common ground between Van
der Meulen’s own faith and the faith of the Muslims he met, a faith that he
respected profoundly. But because of his positive attitude to Islam as a faith
he entered into communication with the Muslims he met in a quite natural way,
and his own outstanding communicative capacities were a great help in this.
Snouck
Hurgronje too was profoundly interested in the historical movement initiated by
‘Abd al-‘Aziz. He published articles on
the subject in the Dutch newspaper De Telegraaf
in 1924, 1927, 1928 and 1932 (1342–51), and received regular first-hand
reports from Van der Meulen in Jeddah. Since Van der Meulen arrived only some
six weeks after Jeddah had fallen into ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s hands, he not only heard
about the scandals of the preceding regime but also experienced the beginning
of a new era in which puritan religion and public morality and justice were to
govern. It was the beginning of a new history, and his expectations of the new
ruler, known for his high religious and moral standards and for his demands for
an Islamic society without compromise, were high. In several places Van der
Meulen expresses the hope that ‘Abd al-‘Aziz will bring about a true
reformation, a spiritual rebirth not only in Arabia but also in the Muslim
world in general, thanks to a reinterpretation of the sources of Islam. In the
following years, however, he had to admit that ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s reforms remained
limited to the Saudi state and that he had no specific message for the Muslim
world at large. Van der Meulen then concluded that the reforms carried out by
‘Abd al-‘Aziz were of such a nature that they could only be applied within
Arabia and not outside it.[xvii]
Van der
Meulen saw ‘Abd al-‘Aziz as a realist and a statesman, but an honest one who
kept his word. Becoming King rather than Imam of Saudi Arabia gave him
political, but hardly religious, leadership, and his approach to the modern
world was pragmatic rather than moved by a vision of universal claims. This
pragmatic attitude would also explain his openness to American rather than
British or Dutch propositions to overcome the financial difficulties of the
years after 1928 (1346/7), when the income from the hajj tax decreased with the
increase in the numbers of potential pilgrims who found they could no longer
afford the hajj. His trust in American offers as to gold mining and oil
exploration and exploitation provided the solution to the immediate financial
problems. But Van der Meulen was quick to observe that the spiritual problems
involved were not recognized by the Americans and not adequately met by the
Saudis. In Van der Meulen’s view, it was the arrival of the dollars that swept
away the religious inspiration of the Wahhabi puritan reform. He was not,
however, enough of a scholar to inquire into the dynamics of the Wahhabi
doctrine and way of life in a society that was extending itself from a Bedouin
into a partly agricultural and urban structure, and in a state that was moving
away from personal and religious loyalties to the more impersonal structures of
modernity.
Van der
Meulen was keen to observe and describe those moments in which ‘Abd al- ‘Aziz
consciously intellectually moved and practically acted beyond the borders of
his own kingdom. I have mentioned already the king’s immediate adherence to the
Allied cause in the Second World War, nicely expressed in a telegram that he
apparently sent to Churchill after the retreat from Dunkirk, when the chances
of Allied victory looked bleak.
I also
mentioned ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s initiative for co-operation between Arab states in
the mid-thirties in view of the Palestine problem. Notwithstanding his tense
relations with the Hashemites ruling in Iraq and Transjordan, and his
criticisms of Egyptian politics, the common danger in his view required
co-operation between all Arabs. The Arab League, however, then proceeded to
take matters well beyond the reach of the king’s own plans.[xviii]
The third
moment of his reaching out beyond the Saudi borders was when he defended the
case of the Palestinians at his meetings with Roosevelt and Churchill in
February 1945 (Rabi‘ I, 1364). In fact, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz was a profound
anti-Zionist, and we need further study of his attitude, especially in the 1948
(1367) war. On this subject Van der Meulen took a position that was more
internationally oriented; but nonetheless he defended the Arab and, in
particular, the Palestinian cause until the end.[xix]
As far as
Wahhabi influence in other Muslim countries is concerned, Van der Meulen does
not give any information except a reference to Muhammad Rashid Rida’s visit in
search of co-operation to ‘Abd al-‘Aziz in 1926, which seems to have remained
without much result.[xx]
From the perspective of Wahhabi Nejd, other countries, in order to be Islamic,
had simply to follow the example of the Wahhabi state; but there was no call
for an ‘Islamic revolution’.
It is
interesting to compare Van der Meulen’s views with those of Philby, as both men
had an unconditional attachment to the person of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz and an
admiration for the man and his achievements. Philby was a man of the Empire who
then switched to becoming a man of the Saudi state; in the end he may be called
a rebel against the system from which he came. Van der Meulen, on the other
hand, was a man who continued to work within the framework of a small country’s
colonial and diplomatic apparatus, and remained rooted in a Dutch way of life.
Van der Meulen was a critical realist within the system; at most he may be
called a dissident with regard to colonial policies and to the customary ways
of considering Islam. Van der Meulen had the greatest respect for Philby as a
scholar, celebrating his important geographical explorations throughout Arabia
and especially in the south, and drawing attention to the mass of materials
that he wrote, designed and collected, and that still awaits publication and
further elaboration.[xxi]
He considered Philby’s Arabian Jubilee of 1952 (1371), giving a biography of
‘Abd al-‘Aziz on the occasion of the fiftieth year of his rule, a historical
masterpiece. But he found Philby’s suggestion that they should both convert to
Islam strange;[xxii]
it showed that Philby had little appreciation of Van der Meulen’s Calvinist
backbone. Philby’s conversion to Islam,[xxiii]
for whatever reasons it was undertaken, was judged negatively by Van der
Meulen, who remarked: ‘If Philby had only been a believer, he would not have
needed to become a Muslim ...’.[xxiv]
Philby, of course, was a giant, and there have been no Westerners as close to
‘Abd al-‘Aziz as he was. Yet Van der Meulen’s characterization of him is worth
quoting (Wells, pp. 83–5; Ontwakend Arabië, pp. 77–8, 85). Philby’s was certainly no easy character to
understand, neither for Westerners nor for Arabs.[xxv]
D. van der Meulen
and King ‘Abd al-‘Aziz:
According to
his publications, Daniel van der Meulen met ‘Abd al-‘Aziz on several occasions.
The first time was a few weeks after his arrival at the beginning of March 1926
(mid Sha‘ban 1344) in Jeddah, where he and his predecessor at the Jeddah
consulate, Ch. O. van der Plas, had a private conversation with the king in
Arabic, without interpreters. A year later, in 1927 (1345) he again had a
private conversation with him. The third time I have noted was mid-December
1944, in a gathering attended by the king’s soldiers in the royal audience tent
at Marat along the road from Riyadh to Jeddah. The King then gave a moving
anti-Jewish speech on his way to meet Roosevelt and Churchill, to plead with
them for the Palestinian people against continued Zionist immigration and the
potential formation of a Zionist state.[xxvi]
The next meeting was after ‘Abd al-‘Aziz’s return from Egypt, where he had seen
Roosevelt and Churchill, when his ‘success’ was celebrated by the people,
probably in March 1945 (Rabi‘ I or II, 1364). ‘Abd al-‘Aziz told Van der Meulen
what had happened. And the last time was on 4 March 1952 (17 Jumada II, 1372),
in the King’s palace in Riyadh at a reception for some prominent leaders of
Aramco.[xxvii]
‘Abd al-‘Aziz passed away a year later, at the age of 73. In Van der Meulen’s
books and writings there are suggestions of other meetings and conversations
with ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, but I have not been able to locate or date them with
precision.
On the other
hand, there was a personal relation between Faisal and Van der Meulen. This
goes back to a visit that Prince Faisal paid to the Netherlands in October 1926
(Rabi‘ I or II, 1345) in order to express his father’s thanks for the country’s
recognition of his rule in the Hejaz after the taking of Jeddah. Daniel van der
Meulen accompanied Faisal during these days, and later met him again. Faisal
visited the Netherlands again on official visits in 1927 (1346), May 1932
(Muharram 1351) and 1935 (1354). Among Van der Meulen’s papers are copies of
two moving letters he wrote to King Faisal, dated 21 September 1966 (5 Jumada
II, 1386) and 11 January 1968 (10 Shawwal 1387). There is also the copy of a
letter he wrote to King Fahd on 5 October 1982 (16 Dhu’l Hijja 1402).
In his remarks
about ‘Abd al-‘Aziz Daniel van der Meulen makes some psychological observations
that are worth mentioning. The King’s father, ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Saud, who was
an ‘alim and an imam, after so many disappointments in life, put his faith in
God alone. He educated his son in this sense too, and this bore fruit.
‘Abd al-‘Aziz entertained friendly relations
with Bahrain. As a boy he was probably attended by a Christian physician for
his rheumatic fever. Later he retained his confidence in the staff of the new
American Christian hospital, and stayed in contact with these Christians.[xxviii]
On several
occasions, Van der Meulen remarks that
‘Abd al-‘Aziz felt himself to be an instrument of God’s work, to be thrown
aside when no longer of use. He had grown up within his religion and faith so
that he lived inside it, and when a given situation was against him, he would
turn in faith against that situation and trust that it would be reversed.
Van der
Meulen draws attention to other psychological features as well. Whereas nearly
all Bedouin youth were caught up in internal tribal rivalries that imprisoned
them in their little worlds, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, simply because he had been with
Mubarak al-Saba in Kuwait when he was growing up, had learned about the world
outside Arabia and the way in which its pressures were conditioning Arabian
life. Few people were initiated as well as he into the intricate game of
international politics.
He was a
master in his dealings with the Bedouin, whom he knew well and whom he
considered victims of their tribal divisions. Through his personal example and
his eloquent speeches he was able to mobilize these rather stubborn people;
once having mobilized them he succeeded in submitting them to an extraordinary
discipline nurtured by both ideology and religion and reinforced by his
physical authority.
In his
personal contacts, with his voice and a certain smile, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz could
easily win people to himself; this gift has been noted by several Westerners
who happened to meet him. In the other direction, the king himself remarked
that, notwithstanding the way the British harshly imposed solutions in
accordance with their own interests, in his dealings with them he had met some
eminent individuals who had become his personal friends. Friendship was
something of immense importance to him. As far as his character is concerned,
Van der Meulen signals his utter straightforwardness, honesty and
trustworthiness – exceptional in the dealings of the Bedouin with each other –
and also a self-restraint and a patience that were rare in Bedouin life.
There is a
striking description of the way in which ‘Abd al-‘Aziz conducted his first
conversation with Daniel van der Meulen and his older colleague Ch. O. van der
Plas in Jeddah in March 1926. After the initial greetings he started by saying
that the West must have the impression of his being a brute; he wanted, however
to impose security, tranquillity and justice in his realm. He did this by
severe means and with heavy punishments; but in the end this was better and
certainly more effective among the Bedouin than the light punishments to which
the West subjected its prisoners. The death penalty can be less cruel than long
prison sentences. As far as the so-called fanaticism of the Wahhabis was
concerned, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz testified that God used him as long as he was useful:
‘If I become useless, God throws me aside and we praise him.’ Then he spoke
about what he believed his task to be:
You have
doubtless also heard many stories about the fanaticism of the Wahhabis. It is
good that you should know the truth about our creed and that of our brothers.
We believe that Allah the Exalted One uses us as His instrument. As long as we
serve Him we will succeed, no power can check us and no enemy will be able to
kill us. Should we become a useless weapon in His hands then He will throw us
aside, wa sanahmiduhu – and we shall praise Him.
His long
sentences, full of ideas, were periodically broken off with ‘Na‘am?’ –Yes?–
meaning ‘Do you follow me?’ He spoke as a man of great conviction, and
concluded in a credo of short, terse remarks, each of which was preceded by the
words ‘We believe’.
Ibn Saud impressed on us that whatever he was and whatever he did
could be reduced to what he believed. His confession of faith was that of the Wahhabi.
He seemed a quite different person from the subject of the fantastic tales that
had come to us in Jeddah from Nejd. His creed was that of a Wahhabi who looked
beyond the frontiers of his desert land, who had now come into contact with
international Islam and who understood that he could only rule the Holy Land of
Islam as the trustee of the world-embracing community of Muhammad. He thought
himself competent to do this, and he felt the urge to formulate his task for
himself and for others, because by doing so his ideas became crystallized. I
had to admit to being most impressed. Ibn Saud was the first Muslim who gave me
a feeling of closeness to my own innermost convictions. Perhaps that was caused
by his simple respect of and belief in divine guidance in his life, perhaps it
was his inner urge to share what was deepest of himself. He had the courage to bare before strangers the very
foundation of his life. He was proud of his uncomplicated creed, sure that he held
the truth and convinced that his hearers would at least respect him for it. And
that we did.
This meeting
was more than an official audience. For me it was like being admitted into
another’s sanctum sanctorum. My heart warmed to Ibn Saud, and I could not help
being moved. I knew that I had met a man who aroused expectations in me. This
man would be a blessing to his land and to its tens of thousands of yearly
visitors. I even cherished the hope that this would be the man to find for
Islam the solution to its growing spiritual crisis. Whoever could have expected
that from a Wahhabi from Nejd![xxix]
Another
striking discussion concerned the question whether Van der Meulen could claim
to be a real Christian. ‘Abd al-‘Aziz asked him if he really tried to live
according to his Scripture. And when he answered in the affirmative, ‘Abd
al-‘Aziz made the significant remark that this was the first time he had heard
of a Westerner doing his best to live according to his religion.[xxx]
A third
conversation is also worth reporting. ‘Abd al-‘Aziz testified to his faith
utterly sincerely and persuasively. When he finally stopped, Van der Meulen
looked at him, took a deep breath and said to him: ‘Your Majesty, I respect
your faith, which is strong. Do you also respect the faith that I have? Will
you allow me to speak to you about it?’[xxxi]
The text says the following:
When I, as
the new Dutch Consul, had my first personal interview with Ibn Saud, who by
then had assumed the title of King, I said that I wanted to tell him how much
he had impressed me by his deep convictions. He seemed surprised. Then I asked
him if he also respected my belief. Her thought there was little difference
between the two: both shared the same Prophets. I said that there was also a
real difference. Did that mean that I believed in the Christian Holy Book? I
said I did. ‘But you don’t live according to its rules?’ I said that I
earnestly tried to follow its precepts. He then said that I was the first
diplomat from the West to tell him that he believed and obeyed his Book.
My colleagues
did not agree with this approach, but I think that the course of my future
dealings with Ibn Saud proved me to be right. Ibn Saud trusted me ...[xxxii]
Such reports
are indicators of the fact that ‘Abd al-‘Aziz himself was engaging with a
Christian in a conversation that in the end became an inter-faith dialogue that
he obviously enjoyed. Unlike so many descriptions of the Wahhabi doctrine and
way of life, this was not a presentation or defence of a closed system as
developed by the specialists, but was subject to open interrogation and
questioning from person to person. And if the ruler himself was able to engage
in dialogue with people of another faith, what about his subjects?
On the other
hand, when it came to the Qur’an, the King could put up a stubborn defence. A
debate has been reported between Philby and ‘Abd al-‘Aziz about the shape of
the earth. And whereas the first presented scientific arguments that the earth
is a ball, the second stubbornly maintained that the earth is flat, because the
Qur’an says so.[xxxiii]
His admiration
for ‘Abd al-‘Aziz notwithstanding, Daniel van der Meulen is also clearly aware
of his limitations. At the end of The Wells of Ibn Saud, when referring to his
last visit to the king, who died the following year, he expresses regrets that,
in the final years of his rule, he had not prepared better for what would come
after him.[xxxiv]
In fact, he could have abdicated in time and been able to train and advise his
successor, so as to ensure continuity in the way the country was ruled. Or,
since he had unlimited power, he could have taken measures to reform the state
institutions and guarantee an administration less dependent on the king. In
fact, he was the only one in a position to impose limits on the privileges and
separate the royal family’s affairs from the institutions and the interests of
the state. But he did not do so. Van der Meulen also holds that ‘Abd al-‘Aziz
lacked what he calls the prophetic courage to see and face the real problems of
the whole world of Islam in the present time. Instead, he focused on his own
country, while opening the road to modernization, without a broader ‘prophetic’
vision of the world of Islam as a whole.
In the last
analysis, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz, as Van der Meulen sees it, was the last representative
of a bygone era. What brought essential changes to the country was not his
puritanical Islam, but simply the arrival of oil money and the country's entry
into the capitalist system.
Van der
Meulen hails ‘Abd al-‘Aziz as a great statesman after the pattern of a Bedouin
ruler, but not as a spiritual leader, although, for the sake of his country, he
needed to be both at the same time. At given points and with specific problems
‘Abd al-‘Aziz could go beyond the immediate necessity and vindicate the
acceptance of modern solutions; but the fuqaha’, and the Shari‘a as they interpreted it, weighed heavily.
In sum, given
the conditions in Arabia at the time, ‘Abd al-‘Aziz was a leader who excelled,
as well as a staunch believer in the tasks God had put upon him. Historically
speaking, Van der Meulen estimates that ‘Abd al-‘Aziz had enjoyed the last
chances available for religious reform before oil modernity began to transform
his country.[xxxv]
Conclusion :
As in the
history of other countries and societies, so in that of Saudi Arabia, the
writings of competent observers can be extremely useful as a complement to the
official documentary sources. This is particularly the case for great
historical movements, struggles and revolutions in which entire populations
have been involved, and that only a few outsiders coming from abroard have had
the chance to witness. In making use of their reports one needs to know, of
course, as in all historiography, where their particular sympathies lay, what
they were able to see, and what they ignored. One should also have a broader
background knowledge of their overall personalities, including their particular
private loyalties, values and causes.
In the case
of the rise of the kingdom of Saudi Arabia as established in 1932 (1351), and
the role of ‘Abd al-‘Aziz from 1901 (1318) onwards, the number of such
outsiders was very small. Until the First World War there were no Westerners in
his company apart from some American friends from Bahrain who visited him in
Riyadh. And from the First World War onwards, those Westerners who arrived on
the Arabian scene were nearly always in the service of foreign governments,
fulfilling political or diplomatic tasks but nearly always lacking an
elementary knowledge of the people, the culture and the religion of the
country. During the First World War there appeared in Arabia two exceptional
Englishmen. T. E. Lawrence was sent to the Hejaz, identified with the Arab
cause and supported the Hashemites, in particular Faisal, in British
policy-making. He finally failed. St John Philby was sent to Nejd, was taken up
by ‘Abd al-‘Aziz as a personal friend, and supported his cause in British
policy-making. Philby finally won.
The case of
Philby as an observer of the rise of Saudi Arabia is extremely interesting, in
that his sympathies even led him to shift his support from the Empire to ‘Abd
al-‘Aziz and his state, and to change religion and embrace Islam in its Wahhabi
form. Philby identified with the Saudi cause as he saw it. His life, including
his participation in the Saudi venture and his relations with ‘Abd al-‘Aziz,
have been analysed by Elisabeth Monroe in her book Philby of Arabia (1973), and do not need to detain us here.
If Lawrence
and Philby were British, represented a world empire, and appeared on the scene
in wartime, the Dutchman Daniel van der Meulen, of the following generation,
arrived some ten years later to take care of Indonesian Muslims in the port of
Jeddah. By contrast with his British predecessors, he did not represent a
powerful country, he was not a scholar, and his studies in Leiden had been
practically oriented. He arrived at a moment when les jeux avaient été faits in
Arabia. The wars were over. Unlike the other two, he was a conscious Christian
who did not hide that fact from his Muslim counterparts, whom he approached as
people who had their own faith just as he had his. Remaining rooted in his
Dutch presuppositions and way of life and his Protestant religion, he did not
identify with either the Saudi or the Islamic cause. But as a person of faith
himself he could see ‘Abd al-‘Aziz as also a person of faith, though of a
slightly different one; and between the two of them a kind of dialogue could
arise on this basis. This was apparently exceptional with Westerners who met
‘Abd al-‘Aziz. His accounts of Saudi Arabia and its ruler are valuable not only
because of the accuracy and precision of his observations, including his
photographs, but also because he put his perceptions within a broader
framework. This was the framework of Islam as he had learned about it at
university and from Christian friends. Exceptionally in his time, he valued
Islam positively as a faith, but hoped for reorientations in its rules so that
it would be open to the problems of the modern world. Exceptionally again, he
was open to practical co-operation and dialogue with both Indonesians and
Arabs, as well as with others who crossed his path.[xxxvi]
Van der
Meulen was neither a scholarly researcher nor a historian. He had a good deal
of common sense, and could narrate past or contemporary history as an experienced
witness. What he told or wrote had gone through the filter of his own
experience and had obtained a personal character on the basis of this. Some
things, for whatever reason, struck him more than others, and he recounted them
with sympathy. He was inclined to leave out unpleasant things, and he was
remarkably careful in his reporting of situations at which he had not been
present himself. In a way, his diaries were a way not only of fixing, but also
of re-telling and reflecting upon what had happened, and in this way of
digesting it. He looked up to men endowed with qualities of leadership, who
sometimes attained to an almost absolute authority with him. This was certainly
the case with his attitude to C. Snouck
Hurgronje, and probably also to ‘Abd al-‘Aziz; both of them he admired very
greatly. In his conversations he could take up a clear position; but he let
other people talk, and listened to them. One may call him a man of convictions,
human communication, and profound humanity. He represented a human voice in the
world of politics.
On the one
hand, then, there is good reason to take Van der Meulen’s observations very
seriously. He not only had a critical sense of reality and an openness to
people, but also an independent mind, whether when working in the Foreign
Service in Arabia, or in the colonial Civil Service in Indonesia. In Arabic and
in his knowledge of Arab life he had a rare expertise that was strengthened by
personal experience. And about things Arab he was always extremely careful in
his judgements.
On the other
hand, Van der Meulen, in his accounts of the Saudi state, also had his
limitations. He had no sociological training, and was not well able to analyse
the processes going on in Arabian society, the internal mechanisms of the state
administration, or the concentration of privileges and power in the hands of
the few. He nowhere speaks with any precision about the relations between ‘Abd
al-‘Aziz and the religious institutions, or about institutional developments in
the country. There is no indication that he wanted to see another type of
state, perhaps because in his view it was quite natural for a prophetic
religion to place its imprint on social and political life. His own Christian
faith gave him openness to the Islamic faith. He therefore saw things Islamic
within the parameters both of his own religious views and of his view of Islam
itself as a religion. But is that not inevitable?
On balance,
however, Van der Meulen’s observations and experiences as expressed in his
writings can help us better to understand some aspects of King ‘Abd al-‘Aziz
and of the rise of Saudi Arabia, including their common confrontation with
modernity. The conversations between the King and the Consul did not concern
political and administrative matters alone. They also concerned the more
personal views of the two men on the religions that they severally
practised. We are fairly entitled to
speak here of inter-faith dialogue.