Lawrence spent three years in the desert during World War I, winning over hardened Bedouin warriors, serving as the military liaison to and securing the loyalty of Prince Feisal (the son of Sharif Hussein of Mecca) and, of course, leading the disparate Arab factions and clans as they toppled the Turks and overturned longstanding Ottoman Empire control of the region. He did all of this despite being outmanned by a wide margin, relying on his own ingenuity to develop tactics such as the hit-and-run guerrilla style favored by insurgencies of all kinds to the present day.
That an Oxford University-trained scholar and archaeologist with no formal military training achieved all of this makes the story all the more compelling.
Add in a flair for the dramatic, embodied by his penchant for eschewing British military attire in favor of flowing white robes and Arabian kaffiyehs, and it’s little wonder that the story of Lawrence morphed into what Korda convincingly describes as the first modern-day celebrity circus.
Indeed, in his post-Arabian pursuits, a time when Lawrence tried and failed to win anonymity – albeit with flamboyant and provocative hiccups – Korda compares him to Princess Diana in his love-hate relationship with the media. Lawrence, as his first and most prominent biographer once put it, was forever “backing into the limelight.”
So Lawrence washes upon us again, thanks to Korda, whose timing couldn’t be better. Just as the caldron of Middle East politics has taken its most dramatic turn since Lawrence led a motley band of rival Arab warriors in a successful, unified revolt against the Turks, the story of the ascetic genius behind that earlier groundswell carries tremendous relevance for anyone trying to better grasp the modern Arab world.
For those who care little for geopolitical entanglements, Lawrence’s story is story enough. He remains an enigmatic and fascinating character 76 years after his death.