by Ilan Pappe
Even as they turned their attention to national politics, the Husaynis remained profoundly Jerusalemite. They served in the municipality throughout the British Mandate – even after 1934, when a Jew was appointed mayor – and through it continued to affect the city’s character. One of the most dynamic political bodies on the scene was the Association for Jerusalem – an interfaith, inter-communal and bi-national organization that served as an ideal model to anyone in the international community who wished to solve the problem of Jerusalem. However, the nationalization of Jerusalem reduced the association to an obsolete entity that now seems impossible to resurrect. The initiative for this body probably came from Ronald Storrs, who hoped that it would help develop civil services that the military rulers did not tackle. Following the model of similar groups in the English cities of Oxford and Cambridge, the association concerned itself chiefly with the preservation of Jerusalem’s religious and cultural heritage.35
Two Husaynis were members of the association, Kamil al-Husayni and Musa Kazim. Together with a team of archaeologists, architects and government officials, they supervised the preservation of the holy city. In the final days of military rule, the mufti accompanied Storrs when he opened the renovated markets of the Old City. They conducted a strange ceremony reminiscent of guild rituals in Europe, giving each craftsman and apprentice a document obliging him to remain loyal to his craft. Among the recipients were Muslims, Jews and Christians, and no such general ceremony would take place again under the British Mandate or thereafter.
But architectural matters were not all that concerned the family during the first two years of British rule. Following the example of Ismail, some of the Husaynis became pillars of the educational system in the city – notably Ishaq Musa al-Husayni, who was the right-hand man of his old teacher Zurayq Nakhla and who served as deputy director of the English College in Jerusalem. Thanks to Zurayq, Ishaq Musa became a leading authority on the Arabic language and its preservation, and he advanced its research with modern methods adopted from the West. Another of his teachers, Musa Asaaf al-Nashashibi, had introduced him to Arabic literature, and Ishaq Musa regarded him as the person who helped shape his Arab identity during their close association from 1918 to 1920. Ishaq Musa noted in his memoirs that it was thanks to the Arabic foundation he had acquired from this mentor that he was able to preserve his Arabism during the many years he spent in the West.36
Although Ishaq Musa occasionally returned to political activity, he was not a central figure in the family’s political biography. The Husaynis who led the dual struggle against Zionism and the British rule now took the stage – Musa Kazim, al-Hajj Amin and Jamal.37
CHAPTER 7
British Betrayal and the Rise of the National Aristocracy
The First Violent Outbreak
At the end of February 1920, after a harsh winter, the people of Jerusalem welcomed the change in the weather. Snow that had piled up to a meter-and-a-half suddenly melted away, and the townspeople strolled outdoors as if it were summer. Spring arrived early and wildflowers bloomed among the rocks. Perhaps it was this early spring, wrote William McCracken in his diary, that prompted the Arabs to resolve to ‘do something’. Later he wrote an article to that effect in his newspaper Jerusalem News.1
But it was not the sudden spring weather that prompted the Arabs to ‘do something’ – it was the headlong rush of political developments that outsiders like McCracken were unable to perceive. First came worrying news from Damascus: after prolonged negotiations, at the end of which Faysal agreed to a French mandate in Syria, he was informed by the commanders of the French forces in Lebanon that they were not interested in a Hashemite monarchy in their new fiefdom. The French demanded that Faysal remove himself and his entourage from Damascus. In desperation, Faysal decided to declare himself king – which he had not yet officially done – and rally a popular army to fight the French.
So at the end of February, all of the newly crowned king’s Jerusalemite supporters met and announced that they would back his effort to prevent the French from driving him out of Syria. One of the main speakers was Sheikh Abd al-Qadir al-Muzafir, who called for ‘real action’ against the British and the Zionists. The gathering also reiterated the well-known objection to the Balfour Declaration and the demand for the King-Crane report to be considered.
While the text of the Balfour Declaration remained unpublished, it was the subject of all kinds of rumors. But these were dispelled that February, when the British government made it public. People in the markets and mosques looked to their political and religious spokesmen for guidance and a response. Catholic priests, Orthodox monks and Muslim imams cooperated in organizing protests and demonstrations all over the country. While basking in the mild sunshine, Jerusalem, the heart of Palestinian politics, prepared for the first real confrontation with the British authorities.
McCracken hoped that rumors of imminent disturbances were mistaken and that calm would continue to reign in the holy city, to which he and his wife had come on a religious mission the previous winter. His organization, the American Religious Society of Friends (Quakers), had placed him in charge of its welfare and charitable work in Jerusalem, and for good reason. McCracken had managed numerous similar activities all over the world, and his history of the Swiss Confederation was also well-known. In Jerusalem he would become an important eyewitness to a stormy period in Palestine.
He had sensed the tension in the air, and the Arab and Jewish women who worked in the laundry of his social welfare organization spoke about activities in the city. On 27 February, a large crowd gathered outside the laundry. It was the first mass Palestinian demonstration against Zionism. When the women inside heard the roar of the crowd, they panicked and clung together, Jewish and Arab alike. McCracken decided to send for the police to protect and reassure them. Some 4,000 people had gathered outside the building of the British and Foreign Bible Society, shouting and shaking sticks menacingly. The only word McCracken was able to make out was the angrily shouted name of General Bowles, the governor of Palestine.
The laundry occupied the ground floor of the Bible Society’s building, beneath its large balcony, from which various people made speeches. Most of the speakers stirred up the crowd, but Mufti Kamil al-Husayni called for calm and urged the demonstrators to disperse. Then Elizabeth McQuin, honorary secretary of the Welfare Enterprises, decided to address the crowd. She found a local man to translate her words into Arabic, climbed the stairs to the balcony and made a speech:
If you want the world to respect you, you must behave like gentlemen. If the Jews have sinned, they will undoubtedly pay for it. The British saved you from the Turks. I myself am a citizen of the United States, and have come here to work for social welfare. We are a freedom-loving people, but we know that freedom means proper behavior. The Grand Mufti is your friend; he has love in his eyes, and you had better follow him.
Whether it was her patronizing – but well-intentioned – statement or just the strange sight of the big American woman clutching the parapet, Ms McQuin’s speech silenced the clamor.
Kamil, Salim and Said al-Husayni had not been immediately aware that it was a woman. Suddenly an excited onlooker shouted, ‘It’s a woman, a woman!’ – an oddity at an all-male demonstration. Some of the placards – ‘Our Country Belongs to Us’, ‘Death to the Betrayers of the Homeland’, ‘End Jewish Immigration’ – were lowered, and the crowd moved away. A photographer for the Jerusalem News captured the unusual occurrence, and the following day the picture of Ms McQuin appeared among photos of the protest.
The protesters proceeded to the Jaffa Gate and then to the American consulate. A delegation led by Said and Salim al-Husayni (son of the late mayor Hussein and brother of Musa Kazim) presented a petition to the American consul, Dr Otis Glazenburg. The Arab population regarded the American consulate as a source of support and hope, both on account of the Palestinian diaspora in the United States and America’s neutrality on the subject of the Mandate of Palestine
. The consulate received numerous complaints from Jerusalem’s notables about Zionism and the British authorities because the consul was widely known as a personal friend and direct appointee of President Wilson. But on this occasion, the demonstrators found an embarrassed diplomat who mumbled some noncommittal phrases about the United States always being on the side of justice. ‘But what justice did he mean?’ wondered Arif al-Arif, one of the delegates, when he told his friend Amin al-Husayni about the encounter.2
From there the protesters went to the French consulate, only to receive a similar reception. Their final destination was the governor’s residence, which they reached at five in the afternoon. On their way, they passed a group of Jews singing the Zionist anthem ‘Hatikvah’ at the top of their lungs, but they ignored them and walked on. Salim noticed that the police officers sent Jewish policemen out of the ranks to avoid provoking clashes with the protesters. Salim, Said and Arif were allowed to enter the courtyard of the governor’s residence. They presented their petition and dispersed the procession.
The following morning, a boy brought the Jerusalem News to Salim’s house. Arif al-Arif later maintained that McCracken was mistaken in estimating that only 4,000 men took part in the demonstration – he assured Salim that the number was 40,000. Salim was pleased to see that McCracken refuted the Zionists’ claims that the procession had been controlled by his guidance and leadership.
A few days later the mufti invited the brave Ms McQuin to thank her personally for her action. She had written him a letter explaining that she had presumed to refer to him by name because of her fear for the Jewish washerwomen. On 1 March, the mufti wrote to her:
I was very pleased to receive your letter. I am sorry that the quiet demonstration aroused so much anxiety among our poor sisters, the washerwomen, and caused you to interrupt your important work with the children. That was certainly not our intention, but I am sure you and they understand the reason for our demonstration. Your speech was wonderful, full of wisdom and insight, and had a good influence on the people …3
It included further words of praise.
McCracken accompanied Ms McQuin on her visit to the mufti. Together they drove to his house, which was up the hill on the way to the Mount of Olives – the future residence of the most renowned Palestinian of the end of the twentieth century, Faysal al-Husayni – and had a beautiful view of the city. On their way, McCracken told Ms McQuin that he had always liked the elderly mufti, who reminded him of his father, the Reverend John McCracken. He was not surprised by the mufti’s concern for the washerwomen: at their first meeting, when he had called on the mufti to obtain his support for welfare programs, the latter had agreed on condition that the organization employ Muslim women. The mufti had also asked the American to cooperate with the welfare organization of the women of Jerusalem established by Mrs Jamal al-Husayni in 1919, which had not only helped the needy but also enabled the women of the family to take part in the national effort. McCracken had assured him that most of the women already employed were in fact Muslim.4 The mufti had no objection to Jewish women being included in the enterprise that received his blessing.
McCracken wondered about the mufti’s attitude towards the Zionists. On the one hand, he decried Zionism and headed the demonstrations against it.5 On the other hand, in the summer of 1918, he laid one of the cornerstones of the Hebrew University. It seemed that the mufti had not yet realized that the era of Ottoman rule had come to an end. Zionists and Britons were new factors in the mufti’s life, and he was unable to keep up with the changing times. The younger generation was better able to comprehend the cultural, social and political changes that followed the Great War.
As at their first meeting, the conversation was conducted in French and English. The mufti spoke French, which McCracken spoke poorly, and then Musa Kazim, the mufti’s cousin and the mayor, who spoke English fluently, came to their aid. Kamil’s white robe was bedecked with medals from Turkish times, as well as one from King George V given to him by the British authorities when they appointed him Grand Mufti. The burden always seemed too heavy for his thin frame and middling height. They discussed the Balfour Declaration, and the mufti, as always, spoke in moderate and gentle tones about the injustice done to the Arabs of Palestine. Then they passed on to the mufti’s favorite subject: the United States of America. He had recently met Colonel Finley, the head of the American Red Cross, and was amazed by the breadth of his knowledge. Now he wanted McCracken to confirm the wonders of the new world power across the ocean.
Ms McQuin had withdrawn to an adjacent room to greet the mufti’s wife and daughters before they went out. One other woman was present at their meeting, the girls’ English governess. The mufti’s son Tahir III was not present, but McCracken knew him from previous visits and, like the British officials, expected him to inherit the mufti’s post. (It should be noted that this chapter, like the previous one, refers almost exclusively to members of the Tahiri branch of the family. Though the branches were no longer relevant during this period, it is necessary for the consistency of the family history to keep this in mind.)
The mufti liked the American even better than he liked his British friends. He often visited him at home, and even when McCracken in his American way ignored local customs and protocol, Kamil was not offended. At every visit McCracken would present his Egyptian servant Mahmoud, his cook Abdul, and Suleiman, a young African lad, to the mufti, as if they were respected members of society, and Kamil responded with understanding and good humor. Had this happened at Storrs’s house, he would have seen it as a deliberate insult.
McCracken and Kamil had first met in September 1919, in what had previously been the German Consulate and what was now the quarters of Colonel Popham, senior aide to the chief administrator of Mandatory Palestine, who stood in for Storrs as governor of Jerusalem whenever the latter was out of town. The mufti had come to dinner to see the first American auto-mobile in Palestine. (Actually, the first automobile had been brought into the country in 1912 by Aaron Aronson, but it had broken down and then vanished. Another car had been built by a German in Jaffa, but it was merely a carriage with an engine attached.) Popham had brought his car from Egypt. He had invited the mufti to take a trip to the north, but feeling that it was inappropriate to his status Kamil had reluctantly declined.
Kamil was feeling like a traveler who had switched abruptly from a horse-drawn carriage to a speeding motor car. He had been swept from a world of measured pace into a frantic race. Something important happened every week. On 8 March, Faysal was declared King of Greater Syria. Said al-Husayni, who had briefly been Foreign Minister in the king’s government, attended the occasion, which was as magnificent as it was historically insignificant. Al-Hajj Amin persuaded his brother Kamil and his relative Musa Kazim to mark the event with a demonstration in Jerusalem. They agreed on condition that the poster announcing the demonstration emphasize that it should be peaceful.
And so it was. At the end of the protest, a petition was submitted to the governor of Jerusalem expressing support for an independent Greater Syria and opposing Zionism.6 Al-Hajj Amin went at once to Damascus to bring the family’s congratulations to the new king, and returned on 1 April convinced that the British were willing to give Palestine to Faysal. He had heard as much from Storrs’s chief of staff, General Waters-Taylor. ‘Best to accelerate the process,’ he said to his brother Kamil. The Nabi Musa celebrations, which fell on Easter Sunday that year, would provide the opportunity to pressure the British government.
Not everyone in the family agreed. Al-Hajj Amin’s nephew Jamil al-Husayni strongly opposed this tactic. When the six boys were at school they were very close, but during the war they parted ways and their views of the world began to differ greatly. Both Jamil and al-Hajj Amin were members of the Arab Club, but Jamil antagonized al-Hajj Amin by joining the Literary Club of the Nashashibis as well. Now Jamil used Arif al-Arif’s paper, Suriya al-Janubiyya (Southern Syria), to call on the associations not to use the Nabi Musa
celebrations as an occasion for rioting and to respect the holiday’s sanctity. Arif al-Arif agreed with this line, though later he was accused of having planned the unauthorized demonstration.7 He was probably innocent of the charge but was compromised by his friendship with al-Hajj Amin.
At the end of Easter Sunday, 4 April 1920, Ronald Storrs wrote in his diary:
The Nabi Musa celebrations turned into a riot aimed against the Jews. A man by name of al-Hajj Amin al-Husayni, the Mufti’s brother, was responsible for the riot. Like all men who instigate riots, having incited the mob, he himself vanished.8
Storrs was convinced that the mufti had had a hand in organizing the event from start to finish. Like other British officials, he was ambivalent about Kamil. Though they suspected him of secretly working against them, at the same time they were charmed by his incredible generosity. When they first occupied the city, some hungry soldiers broke into the mufti’s house and stole two chickens and some other foodstuffs. General Allenby was furious and asked the mufti to make a formal complaint against the marauders. To which the mufti replied in a letter: ‘The damage done is insignificant compared to the kindness shown me by your highness, so that the soldiers’ actions are no more than children’s misbehavior in their father’s house.’9
Kamil was not blamed directly for the April events, but Storrs had no doubt that he had been the instigator. Yet the family did not consider the event of great importance and did not view it as a crisis with the authorities or even with Zionism. After all, the Nabi Musa celebrations had always occasioned religious riots. The only one who considered the event highly significant was al-Hajj Amin, but even he admitted later that the celebrants had gone too far and that it was necessary to find a way of cooperating with the British.10