David Lloyd George, who was prime minister at the time, used stronger language in his Memoirs of the Peace Conference (1939):

By these atrocities, almost unparalleled in the black record of Turkish rule, the Armenian population was reduced in numbers by well over one million … If we succeeded in defeating this inhuman empire, one essential condition of the peace we should impose was the redemption of the Armenian valleys forever from the bloody misrule with which they had been stained by the infamies of the Turk.

Compare these statements with a 1999 Note prepared by the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, Eastern Department for a junior minister:

HMG is open to criticism in terms of the ethical dimension. But given the importance of our relations (political, strategic and commercial) with Turkey, and that recognizing the genocide would provide no practical benefit to the UK or the few survivors of the killings still alive today, nor would it help a rapprochement between Armenia and Turkey, the current line is the only feasible option.

 The study of history has certainly reached new dimensions following the Freedom of Information Act, which must be as awkward for civil servants as it is a treasure trove for historians and lawyers.

Russian soldiers contemplating the remains of a massacre of Armenian villagers in the Mush province

‘How can it be that such an awful event is still the subject of dispute?’

Australia has not been immune from prevarication, possibly from a recognisable motive. The Anzac Day ceremony in Gallipoli this year was immensely significant. If Australia had said too much, these ceremonies might have been cancelled. The NSW Parliament passed a Genocide Recognition Act (2013) and no member of that Parliament was permitted to attend. This perhaps explains why Julie Bishop, the foreign minister, has said:

The Australian government acknowledges the devastating effects which the tragic events at the end of the Ottoman Empire have had on later generations, and on their identity, heritage and culture. We do not, however, recognise these events as ‘genocide’ … the long-standing and clear approach of the Australian government has been not to become involved in this sensitive debate.

Henry Morgenthau, the US ambassador at the time, was under no illusions as to the facts. He interceded with Turkish Interior Minister Talaat Pasha, who told him, ‘Let us do with these Christians as we please.’ Talaat also said to Morgenthau, ‘We have already disposed of three quarters of the Armenians: there are none left in Bitlis, Van and Erzurum ... we have got to finish them.’ Morgenthau’s analysis was damning:

Reports from widely scattered districts indicate systematic attempts to uproot peaceful Armenian populations and through arbitrary arrests, terrible tortures, wholesale expulsions and deportations from one end of the Empire to the other accompanied by frequent instances of rape, pillage and murder, to bring destruction and destitution on them. These measures are not in response to popular or fanatical demand but are purely arbitrary and directed from Constantinople in the name of military necessity, often in districts where no military operations are likely to take place.

 Theodore Roosevelt referred in 1918 to the massacre as ‘the greatest crime of the war, and the failure to act against Turkey is to condone it’. In 2008, Senator Barack Obama stated that ‘facts are undeniable … as President I will recognize the Armenian genocide.’ In office, the reference to genocide has been missing.

‘The Anzac Day ceremony in Gallipoli this year was immensely significant. If Australia had said too much, these ceremonies might have been cancelled’

It is discomfiting to quote anything said by Hitler, but in 1939 he remarked: ‘I have sent my Death’s Head units to the East with the order to kill without mercy men, women and children of the Polish race or language. Only in such a way will we win the lebensraum that we need. Who, after all, speaks today of the annihilation of the Armenians?’

Well, the short answer to that is Geoffrey Robertson does, and he does it in his usual lawyerly but readable style. He is, of course, convincing, but then he is a good advocate. This book has two interest levels. The historical data, including photographs, is powerful, despite the Turkish-funded denialists. The legal issues are fascinating, not just to lawyers.

Geoffrey Robertson (photograph by Jane Brown)

Can the events of 1915 be classified as ‘genocide’ when the term was not coined until Raphael Lemkin proposed the Genocide Convention, the seeds of which are in a paper he wrote in 1933. In his book Axis Rule in Occupied Europe (1944), Lemkin used the term ‘genocide’ for the first time, with the plight of the Armenians clearly in mind. He was introduced to Dr H.V. Evatt, then Australian foreign minister and later president of the General Assembly, who took up Lemkin’s cause. The Genocide Convention came into being in 1948 and today has been ratified by 146 states. Article 1 simply states that ‘genocide, whether committed in time of peace or war, is a crime under international law.’

Another issue raised by the denialists and Turkey is whether it was necessary to intend to eradicate the whole race. Robertson suggests that the answer is negative. Turkey’s attempt to raise a defence of necessity also fails as there is no evidence that the vast majority of the sufferers were other than peaceful citizens.

Issues of state responsibility are at the core of Turkey’s refusal to accept its blame. It is true that the government at the time was that of the Young Turks who soon yielded to Atatürk. The present government of President Erdogan has been vociferous in all denials and has taken action against those who are of the view that the genocide did occur; it is a crime in Turkey to espouse such views. Ironically, it is a crime to deny it in France. Robertson suggests that both are wrong; free speech must prevail.

‘Turkey’s attempt to raise a defence of necessity also fails as there is no evidence that the vast majority of the sufferers were other than peaceful citizens’

But it is not just Turkey that Robertson says should accept responsibility. He makes the argument that Germany, Turkey’s ally, knew exactly was happening. Cables from German ambassadors and others made it clear to the German authorities that there was a danger of them being held complicit for the acts of the Turks. Germany had a military mission in Turkey, and its officers were commanders in the Ottoman army. Germany provided much-needed machinery and munitions. The German Chancellor, Theobald von Bethman-Hollweg, could not have been clearer when he said: ‘The suggested public condemnation of an ally during the present war would be a measure unlike any in history. Our sole object is to keep Turkey on our side until the end of the war, no matter if Armenians perish over that or not. In the face of a longer continuing war we will need the Turks on our side very much.’ Germany even went so far as to send a gunboat to rescue the main perpetrators: Talaat, Enver, Cemal and Niman. This ensured that they avoided the trial waiting for them in Constantinople.

Germany’s knowledge of what was going on, and its failure to use the power it had to stop the massacres, makes it complicit. A precedent can be found in the International Court of Justice case of Bosnia v Serbia. Germany has at least recognised the genocide, but has failed to accept any responsibility for it.

‘Issues of state responsibility are at the core of Turkey’s refusal to accept its blame’

Robertson’s skill lies in leaving the reader with the clear view that an injustice has occurred and that it needs to be remedied. He did this skilfully with his recent book on Stephen Ward, a central figure in the Profumo affair (Stephen Ward Was Innocent, OK, 2013), which contained some shocking revelations of police, prosecutorial, and judicial misconduct.

One suspects that Robertson is realistic enough to recognise that it is unlikely that these legal and factual issues will be heard before an appropriate tribunal. As an alternative, he suggests that in order to give closure to this painful event a compromise might be the only realistic outcome. If Turkey would agree to apologise and acknowledge that what occurred in 1915 was a crime against humanity, this could be accompanied by some reconciliatory measures, such as the erecting of monuments to remember the victims, the restoration of some churches, and perhaps some admissions in school texts. Armenia, for its part, should express regret for the killings of Turkish officials in more recent times and should work with Turkey to set up a persecution museum in Istanbul. Germany should participate in this process due to the role it played.

These two nations need to move forward. The suggestion that efforts should be made to find a compromise after so many years seems immensely sensible. Perhaps the nations that appear to have changed their minds for political expediency should, together with Germany, broker such a compromise. This sore cannot be allowed to fester for another hundred years.

Geoffrey Robertson is to be congratulated for bringing these awful events to our attention and for putting them in their legal, historical, and political context.