The Hejaz Railway, which originally ran from Istanbul to Medina, was the last Osmanli attempt, spearheaded by Sultan Abdulhamid II, to forge a pan-Islamic identity on the rails of a project that would ultimately connect Istanbul to Mecca. Its revival today signals a new possibility for the Middle East amidst a crumbling order. To understand the significance of this project, both yesterday and today, it’s necessary to contextualize it within its historical period.
When Sultan Abdulhamid II ascended the throne of the Osmanli Devlet—incorrectly referred to as the Ottoman Empire by Western norms—the Devlet was already on its deathbed. The interests on its national debt consumed nearly 50% of the state’s income. However, the historian Stanford Jay Shaw described Sultan Abdulhamid II as one of the most prominent Osmanli sultans.
Two of the most pressing issues that the young sultan faced when he took the reins of the State in 1876, and throughout his reign, were the total disarray of state finances and the rising nationalism and secularism within Osmanli lands. When he commissioned the Hejaz Railway in 1900, he was trying to address both.
The railway would create an artery that connected Istanbul to Mecca, crossing the core lands of the Devlet through modern Türkiye, Syria, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia, with sections extending to Lebanon and Palestine. It was the only railway completely built and operated by the Osmanlis—a crucial point.
Throughout the 19th century, the Osmanlis commissioned many railway projects in order to upgrade transportation throughout their lands, but two stand out. One was the Oriental Railway that connected Vienna to Istanbul. The other was the Imperial Ottoman Baghdad Railway that extended to Baghdad and Basra. Both of these railways were in the hands of foreign contractors and operators, who also arranged their finances.
The Oriental Railway was managed by Maurice de Hirsch, a banker and financier connected to the Bischoffsheim, Goldschmid, and Rothschild families. Hirsch snatched the concession for the construction of the railway from a banking consortium made up of the Pereire Brothers and Credit Mobilier, who had formed the Imperial Ottoman Bank.
The concession for the Imperial Ottoman Baghdad Railway was given to the Siemens family, who were also part of Deutsche Bank and connected to the financier Ernest Cassel. Kaiser Wilhelm conducted a state visit to the Osmanlis in 1898 in order to secure the project. The debt acquired by the Osmanlis to finance these projects—through private loans and bond issuances which circulated widely and made great profits for Western banks—was a significant driver of the collapsing Osmanli economy.
In the face of this, Sultan Abdulhamid II launched the Hejaz Railway with a dual purpose: on the one hand, to embark the state on a public infrastructure work which would be, inherently, state-owned; on the other, to promote a pan-Islamic identity to counter the encroaching nationalism that was isolating the Osmanli Devlet.
The Osmanli Devlet encompassed many different religions and ethnicities within its borders. It was a mark of the Osmanlis to grant significant independence to non-Islamic religious denominations and to respect diverse ethnicities. These relationships were not always smooth, but for over 500 years, the overarching Osmanli identity unified them. The basis for this was predictability in the law and security in trade.
Western countries had gained the military and economic upper hand over the Osmanlis throughout the end of the 18th and 19th centuries. This made their ideas far more appealing to the public in Muslim-majority lands, who were beginning to question why this shift was occurring. The Tanzimat reforms were part of the Osmanli effort to modernize the state according to Western norms and to create a sense of national pride, which was, in fact, contrary to the traditional spirit of the Caliphate.
When Western powers began coveting Osmanli lands for themselves, they also began supporting ethnic and nationalist movements within them. A prime example of this is how Britain supported the Arab uprising on the Arabian peninsula. Another is how France forced the Osmanlis to recognize Christian Catholics not as their own subjects, but as French subjects answerable only to the French government.
When Abdulhamid II came to power, he sought to undo many of those reforms. Although he was successful in some regards, the inertia had already been set and the zeitgeist was changing. How one sees and assesses Sultan Abdulhamid II—as a reactionary and authoritarian, or a visionary leader who ultimately failed—is not as important as understanding that he was trying to keep alive a social paradigm that had lasted for over 500 years, but which had already been handed its death sentence.
This was the context of the Hejaz Railway project. In the face of rising nationalism that threatened the unity of the Osmanli Devlet, it was designed to help construct a pan-Islamic identity by focusing on the core Muslim-majority territories of the Osmanlis. It ultimately failed, but its revival today is more than symbolic.
Türkiye and Saudi Arabia have just signed a memorandum of understanding to expand cooperation on railways and connectivity between the two countries. Türkiye has previously signed similar agreements with Syria and Jordan. The flagship project of these agreements is to rebuild the Hejaz Railway.
If this happens, a new artery will cross the historical Muslim heartland. This has an obvious benefit for trade and transportation, especially if it reaches Jeddah and, by sea, the East African coast. Here, it will connect with Chinese Belt and Road Initiative projects and reach deep into the continent.
Through this railway, Türkiye seeks to project regional power and enhance its position as a hub, while Jordan views the line as a way to legitimize its position linking to regional powers. For Syria, it offers a path toward regional integration and new trade lines, and for Saudi Arabia, a strategic alternative to volatile maritime choke points like the Suez Canal, Bab el-Mandeb, and the Strait of Hormuz. Ultimately, for all of these nations, the project provides a powerful means to strengthen their Islamic credentials through its religious symbolism.
One of the main purposes of this railway when it was initially conceived was to help Muslims reach Mecca for the annual Hajj pilgrimage. Uniting the historical Muslim heartland through a trainline reaching into Mecca is akin to sewing these lands together. The idea then was to give the Osmanli populations a shared sense of pan-Islamic identity—to strengthen the sense of Muslims being an Ummah: a political entity.
And in the current context of the Middle East, this is not insignificant. The nation-state projects that followed the carving out and colonization of the region after the Sykes-Picot agreement have proven to bring only constant strife and instability. So have the attempts to create national secular identities. This, combined with the region’s huge natural resources, has ensured that foreign powers have meddled to prevent a unified front from emerging. It could be argued that this is one of the purposes of Western powers supporting the creation and the continuity of the State of Israel.
But when observed from the outside, the majority of the region has much more in common than apart. Many speak the same language, share a common history, are culturally similar, and are predominantly Muslim. If what brings them together could be harnessed to overcome the artificial borders established, perhaps their history will be different from the last hundred years.
There are obstacles, of course. There are ethnic differences and many religious minorities. But this has always been the case in the region and, although a prominent feature of its politics, it was not its defining factor until the arrival of nationalism. The Kurdish population is a good example. They are a nation, but it was only after the emergence of the nation-state that not having a state became a problem.
Although the nation-state paradigm is not going to change soon and the emergence of a politically unified Muslim front is extremely unlikely in the short to medium term, if the countries of the region begin to play down their differences and harness their strengths, new possibilities could open up.
The US and Israeli war in Iran has demonstrated that this is badly needed. The fading security architecture with the U.S. at the center and Israel as its colonial presence has brought neither peace nor security to the region. Iran has demonstrated that the time might have come for something different to emerge.
This is the significance of the timing of the Hejaz Railway project, as well as the military agreement between Saudi Arabia and Pakistan that Türkiye and Qatar were looking to join and to coordinate with Egypt. However, any and all of these routes to a new security architecture and a prosperity plan have to include Iran as a main partner.
There are indications that this might be happening. But petty political machinations, Western interests, and Israel are actively working against it. I remain hopeful but not convinced that it is possible.
