The Rise and Fall of a Palestinian Dynasty

by Ilan Pappe

  As al-Hajj Amin set off on a religious career that would sweep him into the maelstrom of national politics, his kinsman Jamal, a scion of the mayoralty sub-branch of the Tahiri Husaynis (and son of Musa Kazim’s sister), chose a career none of his family had previously considered: that of medicine. Even in those days it was not easy to get into medical school. Jamal wanted to attend the best faculty of medicine in the Middle East, at the Jesuit college of St Joseph in Beirut, but the language of tuition was French, in which he was not fluent. Then in 1912 a telegram arrived at the house of Musa Kazim’s sister and was read aloud to the entire household as soon as the young man’s uncle came in. Eighteen-year-old Jamal, newly graduated from St George’s School, had been admitted into the Faculty of Medicine of the American University in Beirut.

  Jamal arrived in Beirut in the autumn of 1912. His awed impressions of the city’s beauty and riches reveal the difference between provincial Jerusalem and the Lebanese metropolis. He was especially impressed by the university campus where he studied – no such large and magnificent architectural complex could be found in Palestine. Built in 1866, it had previously been Beirut’s Protestant College and became a pantheon of the new Arab nationalism. The American pastor Daniel Bliss, the first Protestant missionary in the Middle East, had come to the Syrian provinces in 1820 and with his friends began to establish the first private schools. George Antonius ascribes to these schools a major influence on the rise of Arab nationalism, because as well as theological studies the students received a liberal education and heard much about the marvels of American independence and European democracy. The Americans brought the first Arabic printing press to Beirut in 1834, and it served the college students.54 Butrus al-Bustani and Nasif al-Yazji, two of the early thinkers of Arab nationalism, taught at the college alongside Bliss.

  The college was situated in Ras Beirut, on the crest of the mountain overlooking the Mediterranean. On a clear day it was possible to see the snowy mountains to the south, Jabal Kanisa and Jabal Snin, and the plain below the Bay of St George; not far away to the north was the beautiful bay of Junieh. The college was full of students of various backgrounds, including Armenians, some Egyptians and Iranians and a few from Anatolia. Most of the teachers were Canadians and Americans, and the rest were local. The college had six wings or schools – literature and the sciences, commerce, medicine, pharmacology, dentistry and engineering. There was also the international college, attended by all first-year students, including Jamal al-Husayni. It did not take him long to find his way around the place, physically and socially. The college did not differ essentially from St George’s School, since both were Protestant missionary establishments. A student’s quality of life was determined, as in English public schools, by the students’ hierarchy, and perks and privileges were won by passing safely through the first year and into the second. As in the United States, good athletes enjoyed favorable treatment even in their first year, but Jamal was not an athlete. His claim to fame lay elsewhere.

  When the First World War broke out, Jamal had been there for two years but had not yet begun medical studies. Like all students of medicine, he had spent the first two years in the College Hall in the Faculty of the Humanities doing general studies. The faculty building was an impressive two-storey edifice, with high windows and a square tower, in the style of Oxford and Cambridge. Jamal should have spent the next four years studying medicine, but this promising career was broken off by the war.55

  THE OUTBREAK OF WORLD WAR I

  Jamal is our first witness to the outbreak of the war. Early in December 1914, four months after the beginning of the war in Europe, during which the Ottoman Empire maintained its neutrality, the war came to Beirut. It was not only the empire’s close relations with Germany that involved it in the war against Britain and France, but primarily the need to resist the relentless territorial ambitions of Russia, which ever since the reign of Peter the Great had been seeking to dominate the Black Sea and its outlets to the Mediterranean, as well as the Slav lands in the Balkans. Two Balkan wars had intensified this struggle, and it was not surprising that the Ottoman entry into the war was triggered by an incident in the Black Sea in December 1914. The Ottoman government used the declaration of war to cancel all the Capitulations – that is, the special agreements between the Ottoman Empire and various foreign governments giving their citizens and subjects exemptions from the laws of the empire. This proclamation won the government some support among the Husaynis.

  On the morning of 1 December 1914, the calm of the Beirut university was shattered. Ottoman guards invaded the School of Medicine and arrested every person suspected of belonging to secret nationalist Arab societies. The suspects were brought before Cemal Pasha (his Arabic name, Jamal Pasha, will be used hereafter as this is what the local people called him), the military governor of all the Syrian provinces, nicknamed al-Safah (‘The Butcher’), who without blinking an eye ordered their execution. Persons whose names appeared in the guest book of the French consulate were marked for death, since the consulate was suspected of aiding the nationalist associations. The terrified consul himself had escaped as soon as war was declared, but the police had a long enough list to satisfy Jamal Pasha. Jamal al-Husayni did not think twice about fleeing to the safety of the Husayni neighborhood in Jerusalem.56

  But Jamal Pasha had gotten to Jerusalem well before December and the official entry of the Ottomans into the war. In August, after the war broke out in Europe, he had toured the cities of al-Sham – Greater Syria – where, according to Minister of War Enver Pasha, there was nationalist unrest. Driven by his own paranoia, which Enver’s warnings had exacerbated, Jamal Pasha started rooting out anyone suspected of nationalist activity or spying for the enemy.57 He was convinced that the Allies were planning an invasion of Palestine in order to foment an Arab revolt against the Ottoman Empire, and his aides assured him that the landing would be somewhere between Iskenderun and Haifa. Jamal Pasha began systematically crushing all the Arab nationalist associations and every sign of independence in the area under his control. But the massive operation produced few results. There was not nearly as much political activity as his aides believed, and they seized only a few dozen individuals from the regions of Syria, Lebanon and Palestine who may or may not have been involved with independence movements. By mid-August 1915 eleven Arabs had been hanged in Beirut – a mere handful in relation to Jamal Pasha’s imaginings. But the action was sufficiently ruthless to instill terror throughout Syria, Lebanon and Palestine, including of course Jerusalem, which Jamal Pasha frequently visited.

  Although the Husayni family was lucky enough not to be picked on, it was a time of great anxiety. In fact, war had come to Jerusalem even before it reached Beirut. General conscription was announced in August 1914, and every day patrols scoured the city for likely recruits, or for suspects. Fortunately for the Husaynis, most of them were government officials and so far exempt from military service; nor did they appear on Jamal Pasha’s list of suspects. The secretaries of the national associations that had sprung up in reaction to the Turkification policy of the Young Turks – Al-Ahd, Al-Fata and the Decentralization Party – had given advance warning to the young Husaynis to cease their political activities. Later Jamal Pasha would execute people without any sound information, simply at his and his aides’ whims.58

  But at the end of September, things came to a head and conscription reached the Husaynis too. Their friend Khalil al-Sakakini parted from them hastily on a searing hot Hamsin day near the Jaffa Gate. He had been standing beside the road, saying goodbye to some conscripts he knew who were about to be sent to the front, when he spotted among the dusty, sweaty crowd the sons of Musa Salih, nephews of Musa Kazim. Many months would pass before their mothers breathed freely again, but in the end the two returned unharmed from the inferno. Jamal, too, was conscripted, and some time later he was taken captive by the British forces.59

  The war atmosphere would affect the rest of the inhabitants only from 20 December on.
Ten days earlier in Mecca, the Prophet’s banner was taken out amid great festivities and carried to Damascus by train, and on the 20th it reached Jerusalem. The banner was received by a huge joyous throng in front of the Dome of the Rock. But it was a strange event. When the loud rejoicing subsided, Jamal Pasha and the mufti of his army sat on a raised platform in front of the crowd and began to answer questions concerning the religious aspects of the citizens’ duty to help the war effort. Jamal Pasha addressed the crowd in his own name and that of Mehmet Rashad V – the puppet sultan whom the Young Turks had placed on the throne of Abdul Hamid II – proclaiming, ‘The Amir of the Faithful has declared the great jihad!’ This was followed by mass prayers.60

  Al-Hajj Amin was not one of the conscripts seen off by Sakakini. Bored with his studies, he had joined up just before the war, and when it broke out he began to attend the military academy in Istanbul and was made a junior reserves officer. His brigade was sent to the Black Sea shore, but he never saw action because the Ottomans did not send Arab officers or cadets to the front. He remained in the reserves, but his life was far from easy. The nights were cold, the food was insufficient and so was sleep. In August 1916 he was given a commission in the Forty-sixth Division and his situation improved. At first he served as assistant division commander to the governor of Smyrna, present day Izmir, then as an artillery officer on the Black Sea. But his battle experience did not go beyond exchanges of fire with Russian cannons.61

  The situation grew worse in 1916. Al-Hajj Amin would later say that he spent most of his time in arguments with the division commander about the rations and quarters given to the Arab soldiers, whom he believed the Ottoman commander was discriminating against. He could have ended up in jail, but in November 1916 he came down with dysentery and was sent to a hospital in Istanbul. Then he was given an exceptional three-month leave and went to Jerusalem. At the end of the three months he stayed home and did not return to his unit. The war had left al-Hajj Amin stronger and tougher.62

  Despite everything, throughout his military service al-Hajj Amin never considered rebelling against the Ottomans. So long as he served in their army, he remained loyal to Istanbul. In later years he would explain that he thought of the war as a struggle between Muslims and infidels. His diary from the army period was full of longing for Palestine, with such lines as, ‘This is my country and the country of my forefathers, I shall defend it with my life for the sake of her children.’63 And this is probably why he decided to not to support the uprising against the Ottoman Empire, which erupted shortly after his return to Jerusalem.

  Most of the Husaynis did not serve in the military and remained in the microcosm of Jerusalem. To use a typical historiographic generalization, it might be said that most of them did not respond to the national Syrian and Arab call. Characteristically, however, neither did they join the opposition movement that Jamal Pasha was trying to organize. For a whole year, between August 1914 and August 1915, Jamal Pasha tried to rally Arab support, and when he failed he began a campaign of unprecedented persecution. The first mass hangings took place on 21 August 1914, the condemned prisoners being members of the Arab national movement. The newspapers published their names – Christians and Muslims were hanged side by side.64 This was Jamal Pasha’s contribution to that essential buttress of the national identity: supra-religious solidarity.

  The Husaynis were actively involved in building this buttress, but they did not look only to the Christians. They were willing to regard the Jews, too, as partners in the construction of a new future. While the executioners went about their grisly business, Muslims and Jews met in a gathering which would be unmatched for many years to come.

  The inspiration behind the meeting was Zaki Bey, the city’s military commander, whom Jamal Pasha’s regular visits had left without employment. Zaki Bey was popular with Jews and Muslims alike, thanks to his generous donations to religious institutions and to the citizens’ welfare. One day in mid-December 1915, a ceremonious delegation of Husaynis came to call at the Jewish teachers’ seminary on Abyssinia Street. Among them were Muhammad Salih al-Husayni, owner of the Rawdat al-Ma’arif (‘The Educational Garden’); the headmaster of that school, Abd al-Latif al-Rajab (who took the name Husayni after his appointment to the post); and Fakhri al-Husayni, al-Hajj Amin’s younger brother (who would die prematurely in Istanbul soon after this). Eliezer Ben-Yehuda received the guests warmly and opened the meeting with the words, ‘The time has come for Muslims and Jews to come together … We have a common enemy … We have been slandered …’ and so on. Young Fakhri responded by reading out a letter from Jerusalem mayor Hussein al-Husayni, welcoming the initiative, which he saw as a call to create a joint homeland. Hearing this, the Jews – including David Yellin, Albert Antebi, Yaacov Thon and others – burst into loud applause and were joined by the Husaynis.

  The most astonishing appearance was that of Sheikh Abd al-Qadir al-Muzafir, who accompanied the family. In times to come, he would be known as an eloquent orator against the Zionists and a confidant of Amin al-Husayni. He owned a good deal of land in the vicinity of Hulda, some of which he sold to the Jews. He began by saying he was sorry he did not speak Hebrew and advised the Jews to learn Arabic and Turkish, especially at a time when tens of thousands of their brethren had come to the country. Since the first and second wave of Jewish immigration, he said, ‘it had become evident that something was happening and taking shape between the two peoples who are racially related, but far apart in their development’. Moreover, the sheikh added, ‘there is no denying that the Jewish settlers have brought much that is good’.

  He was followed by Muhammad Salih al-Husayni, who exclaimed warmly, ‘How delightful is this scene, a gathering of the Children of Israel (Banu Israil) and Arabs together under the picture of our dear sultan … This evening ties Muslims and Jews together with love.’ David Yellin delighted the Husaynis by speaking the purest Arabic and expressing similar sentiments. A similar meeting was supposed to take place in Jaffa, but the Ottoman authorities prevented it.65

  Strange are the vagaries of local history. In 1915 the Husaynis led the initiative to create a watani, a local patriotic consciousness, under the Ottoman aegis. Most of the leaders of the Jewish community were willing to regard it as a temporary but acceptable solution. Two years later, following the British conquest and the Balfour Declaration, most of the participants on both sides would adopt a sharp nationalistic stance, and hopes for sympathy and cooperation would be dashed.

  At the end of December 1915 they met again, this time hosted by Salim al-Husayni. The Jewish group was led by David Ben-Gurion and Yitzhak Ben-Zvi. Dreams of a joint homeland under the Pax Ottomana were still discussed, but by now Jamal Pasha had become alarmed: he dismissed the organizer Zaki Pasha, exiled Ben-Gurion and Ben-Zvi and accused the Husaynis of pro-French sedition.

  The family grew very cautious and wondered if they ought not follow the example of the al-Shuqayris. A well-known religious scholar who lived in Acre, Sheikh As’ad al-Shuqayri (the father of Ahmad al-Shuqayri, a future head of the PLO) decided to deal with Jamal Pasha’s rage by means of gentle persuasion. He organized a delegation of religious scholars and notables from Syria, Lebanon and Palestine to try to pacify the Ottomans after the executions. To demonstrate their good intentions, the group visited the Ottoman forces in the Dardanelles and distributed gifts. The story was covered extensively in the press, as the group included the muftis of Damascus, Homs, Beirut and Haifa, the naqibs of Nablus and the Shafi’i mufti of Jerusalem – every major city was represented by a mufti or naqib. The Hanafi mufti of Jerusalem, Kamil al-Husayni, had been strongly urged to join, but no one in the family wanted to be unequivocally associated with the Ottomans, who represented secularism, anti-Arabism and above all erratic, unstable policies. The only one willing to consider joining was Shukri al-Husayni, who told the family that he supported the action of Sheikh As’ad, even the latter’s willingness to become mufti of the Fourth Army – that is, Jamal Pasha’s own muft
i. The newspaper Filastin published Shukri’s statement in support of al-Shuqayri, mocking those who sought to break away from Ottoman rule: ‘The Arab nation must not part from the Ottoman nation, or it may find itself outside Islam.’66 Kamil, too, realized that he had to pay lip service to this position, and in February 1916, when Jamal Pasha brought Minister of War Enver Pasha by a special train to Jerusalem for a ceremonious dedication of Jamal Pasha Street, Kamil al-Husayni invited the important visitors to the Haram al-Sharif and presented them with valuable gifts.67

  The Gaza Husaynis, who were vaguely related to the Jerusalem family, were badly hit. Ahmad Arif al-Husayni, the son of Gaza’s Hanafi mufti and the member of parliament for the city, was put to death by Jamal Pasha in 1916. The Jerusalem Husaynis knew Ahmad Arif’s father well, as he was in charge of the connection between Gaza and the Jerusalem representatives in the Ottoman Parliament. Ahmad Arif himself had sat beside many of the Jerusalem Husaynis on Jerusalem’s district council. Moreover, in 1913 the Jerusalem family supported his unsuccessful candidacy to the Ottoman Parliament, which he lost to the family that would bedevil the Husaynis – namely, the Nashashibis.

  The execution of Ahmad Arif al-Husayni heightened the fear and anxiety in Jerusalem. Jamal ‘the Butcher’ did not even spare Ahmad Arif’s son. The charge against Ahmad Arif was that he had collaborated with the camp of the Hashemite sharif Hussein ibn Ali of Mecca, the ruler of the Hijaz region in the Arabian Peninsula. This Hussein – great-grandfather of the future King Hussein of Jordan – openly revolted against the Ottomans in the summer of 1916, and his high religious position as guardian of the holy places in Mecca and Medina made this a serious blow to the empire. At the time nobody knew about the sharif’s collusion with the British governor of Egypt, Sir Henry McMahon, and his confidential agent T. E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia). Together they created an alliance that would serve British and Hashemite interests but would split the Arab world. When Albion’s perfidy became known, anti-British tendencies in the Middle East intensified. What worried the Husaynis most, however, was that one of the charges against the Gazan’s son was desertion, and not all the Jerusalem Husaynis had obeyed the call-up (most of them were exempt in any case).68