by Ilan Pappe
Success in the local political arena was of prime importance. Before the reforms, Jerusalem had been a small Ottoman district between Gaza and Nablus administered from Damascus. At the end of the period it would be an autonomous district that encompassed a large part of Palestine. It would become a strong economic and political entity led by a substantial city, not a small town as it had been when Muhammad Ali retreated from it. Before the reforms, the city’s population had been about 12,000; twenty years later it had grown to 20,000.48 The district, which before the reforms had been mainly rural and dominated by mountain potentates like Mustafa Abu Ghosh, became more urban in character, and the Husaynis were at its social and political center.
CHAPTER 3
Struggling with Reform, 1840–76
REDEFINING JERUSALEM AND PALESTINE
The return of Ottoman rule to Jerusalem in the winter of 1840 was a noisy affair. The old-new rulers immediately began to reconstruct the city and to reinforce its walls for fear of the rural sheikhs whose power had noticeably increased under the Egyptians. The walls surrounding the city were made higher, and it looked as if the division between the townspeople and the surrounding villages would continue unchanged. Hoping to assuage the angry authorities, the Jerusalem notables joined a petition sent by the notables of Syria to the young sultan, Abdul Macid (Majjid) II, describing the wrongs suffered under Muhammad Ali’s rule and begging to be taken back into the imperial fold.
They were indeed looking at a new order once the power of the empire was reasserted. New, smaller districts were decreed, and a government representative was stationed in every administrative unit down to the village. Jerusalem, which had been sidelined for years, was made the capital of the southern sub-region of the vilayet of Sidon. Not only was Jerusalem detached from Damascus, the districts of Gaza, Jaffa and Nablus were placed under it (in 1858 Nablus would become a separate district). The sanjaq of Jerusalem, defined by the reformers as a sub-region of a vilayet, spread from the Marj ibn Amar (Jezreel Valley) in the north to Rafah in the south (a large portion of what is Palestine and Israel today). The Ottoman rulers hoped to end the situation in which large tracts of southern Syria were not subordinated to the empire, and wished to weaken Damascus’ influence on the Mediterranean coast. Trade with Europe became one of Istanbul’s prime objectives, and under the new order all the port cities began to enjoy a prominence they had not experienced since the Roman Empire.
Even though Jaffa and Gaza were on the coast, Jerusalem was more important, possibly because it was the most populous of the three – with some 20,000 inhabitants (about half of them non-Muslim) at the start of the reform period and 68,000 at its end.1 Moreover, Jaffa and Gaza were more vulnerable, as history had shown. Above all, Jerusalem’s primacy was reinforced by the high regard in which it was held by the European nations, whose consuls in the holy city would become a major factor in local politics. The European interest in Jerusalem forced the sultan to show his commitment, as the head of the Muslim nation, to the third holiest city in Islam.2
But the governor of Damascus was still a post to reckon with, and during the Tanzimat period his influence was still felt in Palestine as well in Jerusalem.3 It was only in 1872, when the administrative map was yet again redrawn, that Damascus’ role weakened considerably. In that year, Jerusalem became a separate district of equal standing to Damascus, and it incorporated the districts of Nablus and Acre. The British consul in Jerusalem reported to his government: ‘Palestine has become a separate district’ – it was called the District of Holy Jerusalem. A new governor, Mustafa Surayya Pasha, arrived to rule over it, but he was soon cut down to size.
‘Holy Jerusalem’ became an ordinary district, no different from the district of Mount Lebanon. It was shorn of Nablus and Acre but retained Gaza, Hebron and Jaffa. Nonetheless, Jerusalem had a higher status than these sub-provinces as it reported directly to Istanbul. This state of affairs persisted right up to the First World War – the northern part of Palestine, the districts of Nablus and Acre, were ruled from Beirut, and the southern part from Jerusalem (in this period, Vilayet Sidon was renamed Vilayet Beirut).4
EARLY BIDS FOR NATIONALISM
Western historians ascribe this important Ottoman reorganization in 1872 to the growing influence of Western powers that wanted to raise the status of the holy city. But Palestinian and Turkish historians argue that the reformulation was an internal Ottoman initiative and only partly shaped by European pressure. Behind this debate lies a more substantive one about timing, or more precisely about the exact date of the birth of Palestinian nationalism. A clear definition of geopolitical units in a proto-nationalist era is quite often mentioned as a precursor of modern nationalism; hence the importance attributed to this particular act by the Ottoman government in 1872.5
Indeed, though updated scholarship on the birth of a modern nation requires other ingredients to detect a clear emergence, this particular criterion – a well-defined space – is crucial. During the same period, another ingredient was thrown into the national pot: a transformation in the conceptual perceptions of space and time amongst the local elites. Simultaneous with the local elite constructing, devising or inventing (depending on the scholar’s point of view) the idea of nationhood, the society as a whole developed a new perception of the space in which it lived. This was a perception triggered by administrative changes such as the one that occurred in 1872 – the creation of a new district, regardless of whose initiative it was – as well as by economic, social and cultural processes.
The economy of the new district became linked to that of Europe, leading to an influx of Europeans – merchants, speculators, medical men, tourists, missionaries and Zionists. The Western powers followed, greatly enlarging their influence in the region, affecting the local society and its culture.
As the geopolitical entity they were living in increased in size, it was given clearer definitions by Ottoman reformers, visitors, geographers and various interested Europeans. This is how ‘Palestine’ was defined for the first time in a British travelers’ guide from the late reign of Muhammad Ali:
Palestine is the name by which the ‘moderns’ designate that part of the Ottoman Empire in Asia that lies between latitudes 31 and 34, extending from the River Jordan in the east to the Mediterranean in the west.6
Here, as Benedict Anderson puts it, was a fusion of discrete processes that gave rise to a new conception, a new vision, of the region inhabited by people who had formerly been the subjects of a small district in the vilayet of Damascus. At some indefinable stage – this being a collective process that affected individuals at different times – the shamis (the inhabitants of the Syrian districts) living in the newly created district began to think of themselves as Palestinians.7 At some point in time, the Husaynis too changed their self-reference in a similar way.
A TEMPORARY DECLINE, 1840–56
The Ottomans assigned the notable families to an important position in the management of the renewed government by inviting them to take part in the council of the sanjaq, called Majlis al-Idara in Arabic or Mecelis-i-idari in Turkish, as well as the council of the city. The Husaynis aspired to add the city council to the other three major centers of power they controlled – the niqaba, the ifta and the position of Sheikh al-Haram – but did not always succeed. The struggle to win the new post was still carried out by the old rules and tactics. And while the new council had a democratic element that the city’s government had previously lacked, it nevertheless granted primacy to the notables. The new situation actually suited the Husaynis’ slow adjustment to the dramatic changes wrought by the Tanzimat.
Only the mufti and the naqib al-ashraf did not have to be elected to their posts, as they were appointed on the basis of social standing; all the other positions required a run for office. Thus Tahir al-Husayni and Muhammad Ali al-Husayni retained considerable power so long as they filled their posts. Tahir headed the council in the final year of Egyptian rule, but apparently not for long; having star
ted with a flourish, he soon declined. Muhammad Ali al-Husayni’s position was also precarious. At first he lost the post of naqib, which was given to the al-Alamis. But before long he regained the position and managed to keep it until shortly before his death in 1869.8
The temporary decline in the family’s standing lasted from 1840 to 1856. Rival families such as the Khalidis and the Alamis benefited from this and for a while took over some of the Husaynis’ positions.9 Losing a position such as the naqib or mufti quite often resulted in short-term, forced or voluntary exiles in Damascus or Istanbul.
Tahir al-Husayni effectively used his forced stay in the capital to retain the good connections that would return his family to power despite the relative decline in the period mentioned.10 The most precious position lost to the Alamis in 1856 was that of the mufti, but it was returned as a result of Tahir’s efforts and remained in the hands of the Husaynis until 1948.
ECONOMIC COMPENSATIONS
The temporary waning of the Husayni family’s political standing did not affect its economic welfare. On the contrary, it seemed to provide an impetus for growing richer. Generous governmental compensations for positions lost during Egyptian rule and the expansion of the family’s profitable soap factory and flour mill provided the necessary security.11 Though properties were usually confiscated when their owner was deported, Umar was actually paid compensation, thanks to his excellent contacts in Damascus and Istanbul. He was therefore able to leave a rich estate that would consolidate the prosperity of the Umari branch of the family. Even in his old age, he engaged in commercial transactions that extended beyond the city or even the district and enlarged the family fortune.12
The Tahiri branch of the family did not do badly either, and Muhammad Ali al-Husayni – who had at one time been both naqib and mufti – showed business acumen. He was also exiled at the time of the rift with the Alamis. After his return from exile, he took advantage of his position and began to develop the religious properties his family managed. On certain properties near the village of Sarafend, he built a new village named Fuja. This investment would pay off in later years and benefit his descendants.13
Once all the deportees returned home – except Tahir, who remained in Istanbul to the end of his life – the family could regroup and prepare for future challenges. They faced the hostility of various governors, representatives of the Ottoman reforms, who believed that it was their duty to reduce the power of notable families and did all they could to stir up enmities among them. The family dealt with this policy with a dual tactic. On the one hand, they created new matrimonial ties – most importantly with the Darwish family, which held several important positions in the city – thus neutralizing some of the rivalries. And on the other hand, they used past alliances to overcome the power of opposing clans (primarily the Alamis and the Khalidis). In fact, the Husaynis were becoming so powerful that marrying into them became a goal for former rivals such as the Alamis and the Nashashibis.14
THE END OF COUNTRYSIDE RULE AND ITS EFFECT ON THE HUSAYNIS
Rural chieftains were the main victims of the new centralization and taxation policies in the age of reform. In the greater Jerusalem area, the decline in the fortunes of such families between 1840 and the mid-1870s benefited the urban elite of Jerusalem as a whole and the Husaynis, as its leading family, in particular.15
These policies in greater Jerusalem were challenged by the Abu Ghosh family, and for a while the protests turned into a series of insurrections beyond Jerusalem and throughout the countryside. However, this time the Abu Ghoshes could not rely on the urban families, and the Ottomans succeeded in enlisting other strongmen in the mountains who had been antagonized by the Abu Ghosh family in the past over issues of taxation and territory. It would not be an exaggeration to claim that urban families such as the Husaynis helped implement the centralized Ottoman policy and benefited from it.16
The younger generation of Husaynis was initially enthused by the rebellious mood. And thus we find Muhammad Ali al-Husayni joining the Abu Ghosh insurrection in the 1840s.17 He was arrested and exiled for this role, but when released in 1847 he was reinstated as naqib al-ashraf. This was due not to any change of policy in Istanbul but to the family’s friendship with the Grand Mufti in Istanbul from 1846 to 1854, Arif Hikmet, who time and again came to the Husaynis’ aid. After this incident, the family kept out of the conflict and did not support the Abu Ghoshes, while sensibly refraining from voicing loyalty either to their enemies or to the government.18
BACK IN POWER
At the start of the sixth decade of the century, the Husaynis could congratulate themselves on having survived the severe tests of the previous decade. They retained the post of naqib, though that of mufti was less secure. Until 1856 the latter was periodically filled by Muhammad Fadhl Jarallah instead of Mustafa al-Husayni. But after Jarallah’s death that year, the government stopped playing divide-and-rule, at least with regard to the post of mufti of Jerusalem. Yet government policy did not cause the change so much as marriage connections with the Jarallah family that ensured it would no longer compete for the post of mufti. That is, until 1949, when King Abdullah of Jordan appointed a Jarallah to the post in place of al-Hajj Amin al-Husayni.19 Mustafa remained in the post with the approval of the Jarallahs until 1893, the year of his death.
Two decades after the return of Ottoman rule, the Husaynis were once again at the political and social hub of Jerusalem. This was not blind fortune’s doing – the family’s skillful use of such traditional means as prudent matrimonial and other social ties, as well as more modern ones like economic power, restored their preeminence. Even before the passing of Tahir and Umar, both of whom died at a ripe old age in the 1850s, the family was guided by the younger men: Muhammad Ali, who would be either naqib al-ashraf or a serious contender for the post throughout most of the time of reform, and Mustafa, who was mufti for much of that period or likewise a strong candidate for the post. Umar and Tahir remained official heads of the family but had not been involved in the cardinal decisions taken during the very difficult times.
Once they felt secure in their relations with the governor and the other notables, and even in the face of the authorities’ centralizing drive, the heads of the Husayni clan turned their attention to the increasingly problematic presence of foreign consuls in Jerusalem. This was particularly true of their relationship with the British consuls, with whom the Husaynis were in constant, bitter conflict.
The first British consul, William Tanner Young, arrived in Jerusalem in 1838 and perceived the city notables to be a group hostile to his country’s interests and to himself personally. It seems he failed to understand their world and mindset. While they certainly resented the consuls’ intervention in city affairs, they were not a dynamic or a conspiratorial group and rarely tackled diplomats head-on. Only when the latter went so far as to intervene in judicial matters or the status of the notables did disagreements rise to the surface.
After some time, the notables realized that every such incident ended with the consuls’ position becoming stronger. Within a decade of coming to Jerusalem in the late 1830s, they had grown into a force to contend with.
More than any of them, British consul James Finn personified the disturbing effect of the European presence. Stationed in Jerusalem between 1845 and 1863, he has been lauded by Israeli historians for helping Jews to settle in their ‘ancestral land’, and his memoirs have been translated into Hebrew. He is not the only historical figure who appears in one nation’s pantheon and in the rogues’ gallery of another. Finn detested Islam as a whole and the notables of Jerusalem in particular. He never learned to speak Arabic and communicated via an interpreter, which did nothing to smooth relations.
He was especially hostile to the Husaynis, whose main seat of influence, the Haram al-Sharif, he dubbed ‘a site of special fanaticism’.20 Probably his worst offense in the eyes of the family was his repeated attempts to smuggle foreigners into the Haram. The place had been out of bounds for non
-Muslims for more than five centuries, and those who tried to get in were stopped by the Sudanese guards who were the principal defenders of the shrines.21 Finn tried for some time to change this custom, at first without success. But slowly the prohibition began to weaken, and Sheikh al-Haram Mustafa al-Husayni was unable to prevent it.
In general, it seemed to the Husaynis that Finn was working more eagerly than any other European to establish a permanent Western presence in Jerusalem, mainly through the purchase of lands and real estate for missionary and, later, commercial groups.22
THE CRIMEAN WAR AND ITS IMPACT
Although a minor incident in Jerusalem served as a pretext for the Crimean War, which embroiled many of Europe’s powers, the conflict did not have an immediate impact on Jerusalem or its people’s lives. Politically, the crisis exposed the weakness of the central government – since the war was fought in the capital’s vicinity. The temporary vacuum was not filled by one particular group but rather increased tensions between the foreign consuls and the notables over issues of honor and control.
As far as the Husaynis were concerned, the years of the war were the last phase of the serious inter-clan feuds that had threatened their grip on the powerful positions in the city. The next fifty-two years – 1856 to 1908 – would favor the family as a social and political force in the Ottoman world.