The Rise and Fall of a Palestinian Dynasty

by Ilan Pappe

  It seems easy in retrospect to analyze the causes of a revolt, as we have done here by summarizing the general consensus among historians some 100 years after the outbreak. But in fact we cannot be sure that we truly understand the course of events more than a century and a half ago. Undoubtedly, the Egyptian army was perceived as alien and hated as such, and the forced conscription of young men and the confiscation of personal weapons may have been sufficient to cause people of all classes and communities – rural and urban, Christian and Muslim, peasants and notables – to rise up, risking their lives, their families and their properties. Some historians, however, have been so impressed by the dangers faced by the rebels and the breadth of their coalition that they describe the revolt as the uprising of a national movement – that is to say, of a population motivated by a spirit of solidarity and patriotism rather than the particular interests of its members. In 1993 sociologists Kimmerling and Migdal described it as the first Palestinian national revolt (as the Druze Lebanese historian Sulayman Abu Izz al-Din defined it back in 1929). Indeed, in the territory that would later be called political Palestine, the resistance against Egyptian rule was unprecedented in scope and intensity. The whole country backed Jerusalem. Though no one proposed an independent nation state and clearly the intention was to restore Ottoman rule, it may be possible to regard the events as the first signs of a national consciousness.32

  It is hard to determine exactly where the revolt erupted, but we know that Jerusalem did not immediately join the other Syrian cities. It seems that it all began with an order from Egypt that may not have been to Ibrahim’s taste. Muhammad Ali ordered him to implement the tax policy and disarm the population throughout Syria. The first clash was with Bedouin tribes near the Jordan River who had never paid taxes to the Ottoman government. Later, in the spring of 1834, these were joined by aggrieved peasants, first in Transjordan and then in the village of Sa’ir near Hebron, and soon after by the peasantry of the hills of Nablus. It was only a question of time before the notables would decide to confront those who had turned them from creditors into debtors. The first of these were the Tuqans and al-Jarars in Nablus, followed by the Abu Ghoshes, owners of the village of Einab whose chief source of income had been the impost on pilgrims en route to Jerusalem, now taken over by the Egyptians.

  At this time Ibrahim was staying in his hilltop residence at Zawiyya al-Ibrahimiyya on Mount Zion, his favorite abode in Jerusalem because of his fear of the epidemics that periodically raged in the crowded alleys below. In April, before departing for his usual residence in Jaffa, he made an effort to defuse the imminent outbreak of revolt by inviting the ringleaders to discuss a compromise on the issue of arms. He proposed that only every other man surrender his weapons. It seems that only one family in the district accepted the deal – not surprisingly, this was the Abd al-Hadi family, which would continue to support Ibrahim throughout the revolt and would be rewarded with the governorship of Nablus until the end of the Egyptian occupation.33

  The other families rejected the compromise and waited until the end of the month, when Ibrahim would return to Jaffa, where he usually spent the month of May. Qasim al-Ahmad, a Hebron grandee, came to Jerusalem at the head of a large contingent that has been variously described as between 5,000 and 20,000 strong. Together with the men of Abu Ghosh they formed a human barrier on the Jerusalem–Jaffa road to prevent Ibrahim from coming back. When al-Ahmad’s messenger called on Tahir al-Husayni, the mufti willingly gave his blessing to the revolt and even recruited other notables in the district of Jerusalem. Even Jaber Abu Ghosh, the governor of Jerusalem – the mutasalem – joined the insurrection. On 28 April 1834, the revolt erupted in Jerusalem, Nablus, Hebron, Galilee and even Transjordan.34

  On 8 May the villagers began marching to the city, and the following day some 10,000 more armed men arrived from Nablus and Hebron. They all camped outside the city gates, and the following morning an impressive sight met the eyes of the Jerusalemites: all around the city’s southern and eastern walls were hundreds of peasants armed with pitchforks and clubs. That evening the rebels penetrated the city by the biblical ruse of slipping in through a disused water channel, and before long they seized control of the whole city except the fortress. They set up their headquarters in the Saraya Building, the seat of the Egyptian governor on the Via Dolorosa. They also besieged the fortress, which was occupied by an Egyptian force between 600 and 1,000 strong. As in 1703, the fortress held out, and the rebels could not declare a complete victory, though the rest of the city was in their hands.

  On 10 May the besieged soldiers demonstrated their own ingenuity. Using a brilliant guerrilla tactic, they seized some of the city’s dignitaries and imprisoned them in the fortress. Then the pendulum swung again, and for the second time the men of Nablus came to the aid of the Jerusalemites. They not only freed the imprisoned men but also captured the fortress with all the soldiers in it. Unlike the rebels in earlier uprisings, they hardly touched the captured soldiers, perhaps because they knew that reversals were not impossible and they did not wish to arouse Ibrahim’s vengeance. Instead they let off steam by sweeping through the city, breaking into some Jewish and Christian houses and looting them (though by and large they did not discriminate between Muslims and non-Muslims) and robbing shops and market stalls and peaceful citizens.

  It was a heady victory, but not without underlying anxieties. The leaders knew that in the long run a peasant army could not stand up to Muhammad Ali’s formidable forces. It is possible that such doubts also began to trouble Umar and Tahir al-Husayni. Umar was worried about the unstable personality of the Hebronite Qasim al-Ahmad, one of the leaders of the revolt. This Qasim had become a close friend of the frivolous Ibrahim Abu Ghosh, whose father Uthman was imprisoned in Acre. These, Umar felt, were neither easy nor trustworthy allies.35

  Without stirring from Jaffa, Ibrahim asked Muhammad Ali to send him reinforcements of 9,000 troops. The reinforcements arrived only at the end of June and consisted of 15,000 men. (These figures, or their close approximations, are significant, especially for historical comparisons. For example, in 1948 some 100,000 Jewish troops fought against a similar force from the Arab countries.) The rebels clearly had no intention of surrendering, and Ibrahim grew impatient and decided to assault the rebellious city before his father’s troops arrived.36

  The Abu Ghosh clan had been waiting for precisely this move. Though Ibrahim was able to get across the Qastel Hill on his way to Jerusalem, he arrived there in a poor state, worn out by the harassments of the Abu Ghosh. In Jerusalem his camp was besieged by the enthusiastic popular army, and some report that he considered surrendering. In desperation he appealed to the Abd al-Hadi family, who were indebted to him for giving them the governorship of Nablus in place of their old rivals, the Tuqans. The head of the family, Hussein Abd al-Hadi, distributed gifts and promises among the Nablusi rebels, with the result that a gap appeared in the besieging ring, enabling Ibrahim to slip out. His famous army having been beaten twice since the outbreak of the revolt, Ibrahim decided to turn his attention to the village of Einab, the seat of the Abu Ghosh family. After a battle that lasted a day and a night, the villagers surrendered to Ibrahim’s 6,000 men.37

  After his triumph over the villagers, Ibrahim proceeded to Jerusalem and defeated the city he had abandoned in April. He approached from the north, having beaten the men of Nablus, who then joined his forces in droves. But the Hebronite Qasim al-Ahmad did not yield, and though he retreated from the city, he remained determined to free Hebron, Nablus and Jerusalem from the Egyptian occupation.38 When Ibrahim concluded early in June that he had brought rebellious Jerusalem to its knees, he returned to the coast to prepare for the greater confrontation with the Ottoman sultan. But like a bushfire that flares up again after it appears to be extinguished, the flames of rebellion began to flicker once more around the walls of Jerusalem.

  At the end of June, Jerusalem was once again up in arms against the Egyptians, thanks to the urging of Qasim al-Ahm
ad and Ibrahim Abu Ghosh. Then something strange happened. Whereas in May Tahir and Umar al-Husayni had hesitated to continue the insurrection, this time, against all odds, they joined the men they had previously mistrusted. Perhaps the earlier successes distorted their thinking or, however unusual for them, they underestimated the Egyptian ruler’s dogged determination.

  Muhammad Ali had no intention of giving up Jerusalem. On the contrary, despite the city’s marginal strategic value, he meant to devote an unusually large military force to the purpose. The European powers were beginning to assume that Jerusalem was no longer in Egypt’s possession because of its belated response to the revolt, and Muhammad Ali was determined to show the Europeans that the Christian holy places were ruled by Egypt and not the Ottoman Empire.39

  Just when the Husaynis had made up their minds to risk supporting the hopeless revolt, Muhammad Ali landed in Jaffa from Egypt with 15,000 men.40 The experienced Egyptian started his campaign by contacting the rebels and proposing a compromise on the questions of weapons and conscription. He promised Ibrahim Abu Ghosh that he would release his father from prison in return for the Abu Ghosh family’s support. Remarkably, Qasim al-Ahmad stood his ground. On the very day when the naval guns of Jaffa announced the arrival of Muhammad Ali, the rebels stormed Ibrahim’s palatial residence on Mount Zion and looted it.

  Muhammad Ali put great pressure on Tahir and Umar al-Husayni to withhold their support for the rebellion, and invited them to negotiate with him in Jaffa. After a sleepless night of consultation, the two men set out, accompanied by representatives of other leading families. Had they been more familiar with Egyptian history, they would have known that the last conciliatory meeting proposed by the imperious Pasha had ended with his opponents having their throats cut. In 1811 he had invited to his fortress some 300 Mamluk princes, members of the Turco-Egyptian aristocracy with whom he had shared the government of Egypt since 1805. He gave them dinner, after which they were all put to the sword.

  One cool morning a caravan of donkeys, camels and mules waited outside the Husayni residence near the Haram. Members of the family said good-bye to Umar and Tahir, expecting to see them back home soon. After riding hard for a day and a half, the men arrived in Jaffa to be met by the corpulent, white-bearded Pasha. Reclining on cushions, one leg folded under him and his hand resting on a long, curved scimitar, he paid little heed to the Jerusalemites’ explanations, and a few moments later they were arrested and dispatched to Egypt in the belly of an Egyptian ship.

  Fortunately for them, they were not confined in the qala’as’s prison in the Salah al-Din fortress that dominates Cairo, from which few ever came out alive, but rather they were exiled and kept under heavy guard. Tahir’s close friendships with the scholars of al-Azhar and Umar’s reputation as a generous host to many Egyptian visitors to Jerusalem, to whom he had shown its mosques and saints’ tombs, stood them in good stead.41 Two years later, the Pasha suddenly freed them and sent them to Jerusalem. Perhaps he hoped they would be grateful and support him in the event of another insurrection, or maybe he was concerned about Tahir’s popularity, in view of the many petitions sent by Jerusalem residents begging him to restore Tahir to his former post. Another less likely possibility is that the Egyptian Pasha was moved by a letter written by seventeen women in the mufti’s harem in April 1835 saying that since their master’s exile they had no one to provide for them.42

  Qasim al-Ahmad was captured a few days after the Husaynis, and his fate remains unknown. Having reconquered Jerusalem, Ibrahim punished the city by sealing up the Mughrabi Gate (also known as the Dung Gate), near the quarter inhabited by a North African community that had supported the revolt. (It would be reopened in 1841, after the Egyptians had been driven out.) This was not merely a symbolic gesture. It was the nearest gate to the spring of Silwan, and sealing it made it harder for the townspeople to fetch water. Also, a large jail was built near the fortress – Jerusalem’s famous Kishleh – and anyone who dared to resist the ruler was thrown into one of its tiny cells. The Ottomans, when they returned, and later the British, Jordanians and Israelis, all kept up this institution and its practices.

  In the latter days of Egyptian rule, the Husaynis made their peace with Ibrahim and even agreed to help administer the city on his behalf. The rulers were willing to forgive Tahir, due to the high regard in which he was held by the scholars at al-Azhar in Cairo, but Umar was not so fortunate. The Husaynis had to agree to let Umar’s son, Muhammad Ali (whose name no doubt appealed to the Pasha), fill his father’s post as naqib al-ashraf of Jerusalem. He retained the position after Umar returned from exile in 1836. But the Egyptian authorities, who wished to be reconciled with the family, did not cancel any of Umar’s honorary titles or the stipends that went with his former position. Thus the Husaynis grew still stronger despite the unfortunate gamble they had taken in the final stages of the revolt. Their reconciliation came just in time, because by then the standing of the Khalidis had surpassed theirs, and good relations with the powers that be were, as always, translated into important posts and rich emoluments.

  Muhammad Ali al-Husayni played an active part in the creation of the first representative and constitutional body in the district of Jerusalem – namely, the Majlis al-Shura (the general council of Jerusalem). It was set up as an advisory council to the Egyptian ruler and represented the leading groups in local society. The council was headed by Mahmud Abu al-Saud; Muhammad Ali al-Husayni was a member by virtue of his position as naqib al-ashraf, and from the beginning so was Tahir al-Husayni as the mufti.

  Curiously, Tahir al-Husayni, whose political instincts were generally acute, failed to discern the approaching end of Egyptian rule in Palestine and chose to steer close to the Pasha. This was not a minor matter in those days, least of all for a sheikh who had been out of favor and even exiled for his part in the revolt. In recognition of his belated loyalty to the regime, Tahir received the title nazir al-diwan (chairman of the city council). In this way the Husaynis were associated with the cancellation of the special taxes imposed on the Christians and Jews, though apparently they were able to restrict the scope of the reforms.43 Led by Tahir, the city council forbade the Jews to engage in agriculture, buy grazing land or deal in soap (which the Husaynis manufactured); Jews retained their right to engage in commerce. In Egypt, Muhammad Ali Pasha ratified the resolution: ‘We shall not allow the Jews to purchase land in Jerusalem and its environs, as this would constitute a legal precedent.’44 Nor did the majlis accede to the Jews’ request to be allowed to pray aloud; they stated that the old arrangements on this matter remained in force. Likewise, the question of the status of the Western (‘Wailing’) Wall – which would be a major bone of contention between future Husayni generations and the Zionist movement – came up in the last days of Muhammad Ali’s rule in Jerusalem. The Jewish community hoped to gain from the Pasha’s lenience towards non-Muslim minorities and asked permission to build a structure near the Wall and to pray aloud. But the majlis decreed that since the Wall adjoined the Haram al-Sharif the Jews could have no legal right to it or to the road leading to it, which passed through the Mughrabi quarter.

  In its final stages Egyptian rule created some new facts that displeased the Husayni family. For example, Muhammad Ali permitted the foreign consuls in Jerusalem to build business premises, though in response to the protest of the Husaynis on behalf of the populace, he did not allow the American consul to fly his country’s flag. Pieces of colored cloth were important symbols of presence and dominance long before the country was caught up in the heady mood of nationalism.45 The Pasha also permitted foreign merchants to trade in the city and canceled the tax that had been paid by the guardians of the churches since the time of Saladin, as well as the tithe paid by the fellahin.

  Ibrahim also left his imprint on the city’s architecture and introduced some technological innovations. Historians theorizing about the rise of nationalism argue that such innovations induce a new attitude to the environment, which in turn en
hances the development of a national identity.46 Among the new structures were a windmill and the first flour mill of its type, both built in 1831.

  In 1839 Muhammad Ali was driven out of Syria and the familiar Ottoman rule returned. These changes of government frayed the people’s nerves. Muhammad Ali left Jericho first, and rumors spread in Jerusalem that he had destroyed it. People feared that he would do the same to their city. Tahir and Umar called for the city gates to be closed, and recommended that the people hide their money in the cemeteries and shut themselves up inside their shops. The Ottoman forces, backed by the navies of the European powers, had already landed in Jaffa, but by the time they reached Jerusalem Muhammad Ali had already left. Later it transpired that he had not harmed Jericho.47

  The old rulers returned to Palestine bursting with a new resolve: the empire was to be turned into a modern state capable of standing up to Europe, which was eager to grab any part of it that seemed attainable. At the same time, Istanbul was anxious to nip in the bud the ambitions of the various communities that drew inspiration from the Greek revolution of 1821 and from Muhammad Ali’s relative success.

  The Ottomans also had to contend with a European ‘fifth column’ – namely, the European consulates that Ibrahim had permitted to be established in the imperial provinces, many of which were set up in Jerusalem. These consulates changed the city: European buildings housing foreign families that, as the foreign powers consolidated their presence in the city, gradually became regular ports of call for all the socialites in town. Towards the end of the nineteenth century, the Husaynis would be among the regular guests of these foreign representatives.

  This was the dawn of the Tanzimat – the reforms loathed by the Husaynis. The winds of change tended to weaken the power of the local notables, to grant positions of power to those who were willing to relearn the rules of Ottoman administration and to replace lineage with a diploma from one of the new schools of administration that had opened in Istanbul. The Khalidis were quick to take up this proposition, but the Husaynis lagged behind. It would be some years before the family regained its prominence in the city and its environs.