The real story of their region cannot be reduced to that of recently created and artificially homogenised states. If there has to be one master narrative, a far more interesting (and honest) one is formed by the evolution of the grand and ancient cosmopolitan cities, where an extraordinary range of micro-societies, each with its own hierarchies, traditions and taboos, have interacted and cross-fertilised on perpetually changing terms.
That is the starting point for Philip Mansel's highly enjoyable and intricately-worked account of three great Mediterranean ports： Alexandria, Smyrna and Beirut. In each of these places, a great array of cultural forces, both local and external, lent a unique, often bittersweet texture to daily life, at least when cosmopolitanism was at its height. In such places, shifting hourly from one language and scene to another was an indispensible life-skill. The most successful individuals, from cafe owners to bankers, were often those whose ability to manoeuvre between cultures was particularly well developed. And despite the internal self-discipline which each community practiced - strongly discouraging marriage outside the group, for example - such cities offered endless opportunities for quiet defience. Individuals found that they could always form friendships, fall in love or do business together in ways that tested the limits of the permissible.
With a sharp eye for detail and a deep understanding of the dynamics of traditional empires and societies. Mr Mansel describes Izmir (formerly Smyrna), as it flourished before the first world war and Alexandria in the days before the triumph of Egyptian nationlism in the 1950s. In both cities there were wealthy British families with strong local roots； rich and cultured Greeks who looked down on the poor Hellenic kingdom, and Muslim potentas who seemed enjoy rubbing shoulderr with sophisticated and free-living Westerners.
As ports of the Ottoman world, Mr Mansel's three cities have obvious and not-so-obvious similarities. They are all places where European powers had strong strategic as well as commercial interests. They are all places where the glamorous lifestyle of those who thrived on external connections, often eastern Christians, was to some extent built on the poverty of the local Muslim population. Their vengeful resentment eventually came to the surface. As Mr Mansel puts it, in an apt formulation, the hinterland bites back. More contentiously, he asserts another commonality： in all three places. the defining European influence was not British or Italian but that of liberal, republican France. The French connection with the region, he reminds the reader, long predates Napoleon. It goes back to the Franco-Ottoman alliances of the late Middle Ages.
The author certainly has a point. Despite the huge British military presence in pre-1950 Egypt, French lycees were the place where ambitious Egyptians went to acquire some worldly polish. And in 1922, when Izmir's christian quarters were burned down and destroyed, desperate Armenians used their fluent French to talk their way onto warships from France.
In Lebanon, which became a French protectorate after the first world war, the Gallic link is even more obvious. Another difference, of course, is that Beirut, despite its ongoing tragedies, is still more-or-less functioning as a cosmopolitan, Levantine city. Indeed, as other Arab states become more puritanical and authoritarian, the lure of Beirut's beaches and night clubs, and the determination of locals to rebuild after every round of fighting, seems to grow. By contrast, Izmir is now doing fairly well as an almost entirely Turkish place, Alexandria rather less so as an overwhelmingly Egyptian, Muslim city.
But what would Beirut be if it followed their example and become mono-religious and mono-culture? There is no clear answer to that question： none of the various contenders for power and influence has an obvious ability to annihilate all the others. That helps to explain why city's cosmopolitanism has somehow survived. It also explains why fashion shows and golf matches take place to the sound of sputtering gunfire. In this part of the world, cosmopolitanism comes at a price.
