The Rise and Fall of a Palestinian Dynasty
Page 27
Mayor Musa Kazim was likewise sent to the Acre prison. Though promptly released, he was, as mentioned, dismissed from his post. In prison he met Baydas, who would write Hadith al-Sajun (The Story of the Prisoners), a bitter denunciation of British prisons. Several sources argue that it was Baydas who persuaded Musa Kazim to refuse to cooperate any longer with the British authorities.23
As if the imprisonment of some of its leading figures and the flight of others was not enough, the San Remo Conference deepened the despair of the Palestinian public. In the little Italian resort, the ten allies of the Paris Peace Conference confirmed that Palestine would come under a British Mandate that incorporated the Balfour Declaration (which could be understood to apply to Transjordan as well). The British also received the mandate over Iraq, and the French over Syria and Lebanon.
The Husaynis had succeeded in rallying a significant number of Christians to take part in the Nabi Musa procession, which could be seen as an impressive demonstration of Muslim-Christian power. Christian Palestinians were beginning to regard the festival as a national event. But this was a meager comfort, and there was little for Palestinians to rejoice about in the summer of 1920.24
The second Palestinian Congress took place amid this gloom. Its main purpose was to lift people’s spirits, or at least to encourage those who were politically active and anxious about recent developments. It was also necessary to decide how to respond to those developments. As in the days of Abdul Hamid II, the participants had to work in secret, because the military authorities banned all Arab political gatherings. The British authorities were especially wary of any support for Faysal since it seemed impossible to forestall a clash between him and the French in Syria, which the British government had promised (explicitly or by implication) to both camps.25
On 31 May 1920, in the absence of Arif al-Arif and al-Hajj Amin, their followers and friends decided to carry out an old idea the two had advanced: they created the organization that would become the first Palestinian political party in history – the Palestine Arab League. The two exiles were chosen as its leaders, together with Rafiq al-Tamimi, Izzat Darwaza and others. The choice of al-Hajj Amin as the secretary of the league illustrated the high regard in which many held him even though he was only in his early twenties. The conference published a demand to bring back the deportees as well as a strong protest against the decision of the San Remo Conference to include the Balfour Declaration in the text of the mandate.
Not all the Husaynis directly confronted the British authorities. During May and June, Kamil and Storrs revived their former friendship. The mufti’s medals were formally returned to him, and he, for his part – possibly in gratitude – gave a sermon at al-Aqsa in June 1920 calling for moderation, calm and the preservation of public order. He even expressed confidence that the British government would fulfill its promises to the Muslim community in Jerusalem.26
But the situation was volatile and uncertain, and the Husaynis did not take a clear-cut position. Even after the events in April, some of them were unsure about what was happening in Palestine. Their public activities and speeches appeared to be plainly anti-Zionist, but in June 1920 even al-Hajj Amin was still examining various ways of opposing Zionism (as he continued to do until 1948). He took part in the political activities of the Syrian Congress, which included contact with Zionist leaders, notably Chaim Weizmann. In June 1920, al-Hajj Amin and two other members of the Palestine committee of the Syrian Congress met with a Zionist delegation at the Victoria Hotel in Damascus. They discussed the Weizmann-Faysal agreement, signed in January 1919, which secured Zionist support for Greater Syria in exchange for an all-Syrian acceptance of some implementation of the Balfour Declaration. Al-Hajj Amin would later claim that he had attended the meeting in order to get to know the enemy better, but it is possible that he went because he was ambivalent about the Zionists.27
UNDER THE HIGH COMMISSIONER HERBERT SAMUEL
On 20 June 1920, a boat brought Sir Herbert Samuel from the SS Senator to the quay at the Port of Jaffa. Eight young Muslim men dressed, despite the heat, in jumpers bearing the text ‘OETA Property’ (that is, property of the occupation administration) helped him ashore. Samuel had been appointed High Commissioner of Palestine following the San Remo confirmation of the British Mandate of Palestine. Then in his fifties, the Englishman had previously been Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. His Jewish origin immediately aroused Palestinian suspicions, and perhaps they also held his assistance to the Zionist delegation at the Paris Peace Conference against him, though it is not certain that the Palestinians were aware of it. Yet for some time there were no indications that he was in any way hostile to the Palestinians.28
The new High Commissioner was received with a seventeen-gun salute, after which he was rushed away in a car to Jerusalem, for fear that some local person would make an attempt on his life. Two days after the High Commissioner’s arrival in Jerusalem, General Bowles threw a formal reception in his honor at a government house on Mount Scopus, marking the end of his role as military governor and the start of Sir Herbert’s civilian rule.
Bowles may have felt that he had not done enough or wished to erase the bitter memory of the recent events. At any rate he made an effort to reconcile the Jewish and Muslim leaders, if only superficially. Menahem Ussishkin, head of the Zionist Commission, and Grand Mufti Kamil al-Husayni were the two leading local figures, and Bowles seized their arms, one on each side. A man of eloquent gestures, Kamil was willing to shake Ussishkin’s hand, but the latter declined.
Judge Gad Frumkin witnessed the scene and was appalled. He ran after Ussishkin and asked him why he had refused to shake the mufti’s hand. ‘How could I offer my hand to the head of a religion whose sons raped daughters of Israel?’ was the answer. However, Ussishkin could not have thought of any particular case, nor was there evidence of any such atrocities. Frumkin later noted in his memoir that this incident, like many others, typified the insolence of the Zionist leaders.29
Deeply offended, Kamil gathered his family and told them about the incident. His brother Amin al-Husayni listened attentively and would often repeat the story. When Kamil died in March 1921 and al-Hajj Amin succeeded him as Grand Mufti, one of the first people to visit and congratulate him was M. D. Eder, the member of the Zionist Commission in charge of political affairs. Afterwards Dr Eder waited in vain for the mufti to pay him a return visit. Frumkin found out about this when he tried to persuade Eder’s successor, Colonel Kisch, to meet ‘the head of the Muslim religion’ in Palestine, and heard that since the mufti had not repaid his predecessor’s courtesy visit, Kisch saw no point in meeting.
All this happened during the fasting month of Ramadan. Frumkin was a regular visitor at the Husaynis’ on the sociable nights when the fast was broken. After talking to Kisch, he hurried to visit al-Hajj Amin. Not finding him at home, he looked for him among the many diners who crowded the big hall. At his request, someone called the new mufti, and the two talked privately in another room.
‘Why did I not return Eder’s visit?’ al-Hajj Amin said, agitated. ‘Because his predecessor, Ussishkin, insulted my late brother publicly and unforgivably!’ Nevertheless, Frumkin persuaded al-Hajj Amin to meet Kisch at a dinner at his, Frumkin’s, house. But Kisch again behaved rudely and rejected the invitation. This time he had a different excuse: Dr Ticho, the commissioner’s private physician, had invited both him and al-Hajj Amin to his house, but when the latter had heard that Kisch was going to be there, he refused to come. Frumkin had no doubt that the problem lay in Kisch’s reluctance to have anything to do with the Arabs. At first glance, these encounters may seem to be quarrels between gangs of overgrown children – this was how the British perceived them – but they were more than that. Gestures counted for a great deal in Palestine, as they often revealed the raw and authentic attitude, which at times could be covered with doubletalk and insincerity.30
But we are anticipating – in 1920 Kamil was still alive and al-Hajj Amin had not yet s
ucceeded him. That June, Kamil’s family and the rest of the Husaynis worried that the pro-Zionist Jewish High Commissioner would encourage the leaders of the Jewish community to continue behaving in an arrogant and overbearing way. Kamil was hoping that Chaim Weizmann would head the Zionist camp, because he had been impressed by him and believed he did not wish to dispossess the Palestinians. He was more suspicious of the High Commissioner, and a meeting held on 7 July between Sir Herbert and a number of Palestinian notables including Kamil did not help. However, in August a minor gesture made by the High Commissioner placed him on the positive side of the ledger in Kamil’s book, if not in Palestinian history.
On 20 August, the tired Sir Herbert came to al-Salt in Transjordan to reassure the Bedouin sheikhs that Faysal’s departure from Damascus did not mean Britain’s withdrawal from Transjordan; as the chief representative of the British Mandate, he was also responsible for this region. He was sitting on a chair inside the great tent, facing the sheikhs, who sat cross-legged on rugs, when an eager young officer broke into the conversation: ‘Al-Hajj Amin and Arif al-Arif are here. Let’s grab them and take them back to Jerusalem!’ Sir Herbert turned questioningly to a sheikh who had impressed him as wise and moderate. ‘That would not be wise,’ the sheikh replied. ‘Your forces are small, and al-Hajj Amin and Arif are the guests of a tribe armed with thousands of rifles. You’re camped down in a deep wadi, while they are on the surrounding hillsides, and they will protect their guests to the last drop of blood, because that is the custom here.’ The decision was made immediately not to try to capture the two.31
The following day, Sir Herbert presented himself before the sheikhs wearing his medals and a fresh white suit. Before he could say anything, some of the sheikhs appealed to him to pardon the two young Palestinians. The High Commissioner had considered the matter during the night and made up his mind; to general surprise, he pardoned the two then and there. Almost by magic, Arif al-Arif appeared, borne on the shoulders of local young men. The cautious al-Hajj Amin stayed out of sight, perhaps because he did not trust the British official. He wrote to his brother that he did not care to be pardoned because he was not a criminal. But when Kamil fell ill, he accepted the pardon and returned to Jerusalem in December 1920.
Sir Herbert must have hoped to indicate by his gesture that he was not pro-Zionist but had the welfare of the entire population at heart. When Izzat Darwaza heard about the pardon, he told the Husaynis that Sir Herbert must have been concerned that, with al-Hajj Amin absent, their rivals the Nashashibis, who had already obtained the post of mayor, would grow too strong, thus depriving the British of the old colonial ploy of ‘divide and rule’. But Kamil did not accept this explanation. He believed that the High Commissioner’s kindness and his desire to begin his tenure in an atmosphere of goodwill had prompted him to issue the pardon.
That summer the Husaynis had to change their position on the future of Palestine. On 23 July, Faysal was defeated by the French forces in Maysalun. He then came to Haifa and waited for a new position in one of Britain’s territories. Since Greater Syria was no more, what would happen to Palestine? The Literary Club – composed mostly of Nashashibis and some Husaynis – had been right not to support the union of Syria and Palestine. At the end of the month, Musa Kazim addressed the activists of the Palestinian organizations: ‘Now, after the recent events in Damascus, we must change our plans entirely. Southern Syria is no more. We must defend Palestine.’32
Aided by Jamil al-Husayni, Musa Kazim accepted the leadership; al-Hajj Amin was still in exile. Jamil, the only scion of the Umari branch who was still active in politics, had thought of himself as a candidate, but Musa Kazim was more prominent. When the members of the organizations asked Musa Kazim to lead them in preparation for the third Palestinian Congress, he agreed. The conference convened in Haifa in December 1920, and Musa Kazim was elected its president.
But before the Haifa conference, the fourth anniversary of the Balfour Declaration came around. The population was becoming accustomed to national anniversaries being marked alongside the saints’ days and pilgrimages. As time went on, the number of commemorated injustices and catastrophes in Palestinian history grew so much that by the end of the twentieth century there was hardly a free day left on the calendar. In November 1920, the protests in Jerusalem were fairly limited and confined to the Old City. The turmoil lasted only a few hours. The American consul described it in his report to Washington in the dry language of a diplomat: ‘All the Arab shops in Palestine were shut today, in protest against the Balfour Declaration. The Jews threw a hand-grenade and wounded Arabs; in retaliation, the Arabs killed four Jews. Martial law has been re-imposed.’33
It all began when the demonstrators tried to pass through the Jewish Quarter. As in April 1920, the Jews, feeling threatened, again responded with firearms, leaving one Arab dead. The Arabs, who were more numerous, used knives and other weapons, hence the large number of Jewish wounded. By the end of the month, everyone was busy with preparations for the Haifa conference, and the agitation died down for a time.
On 13 December, three Husaynis went to Haifa to take part in the seven-day conference. Their attendance signaled the family’s continued presence (but not yet their prominence) in the political arena, not only in Jerusalem but throughout Palestine. Musa Kazim, al-Hajj Amin and Muhammad Salah had come to Haifa a few days earlier after celebrating al-Hajj Amin’s pardon and return. Only al-Hajj Amin, with his relentless energy, had the necessary qualities to dominate events; only he was capable of compelling Palestinians with senior posts in the mandatory government to donate two months’ salary to finance the conference. Not that the notables were short of funds, but this was their way of showing real commitment to the national cause. Preparations for the conference had to take place in secret. Having been forbidden to engage in political activity, al-Hajj Amin was back in his former post of teacher at the Rawdat al-Ma’arif school – which was actually his private property. For this reason, the conference was convened in Haifa under the aegis of the Haifa Muslim-Christian Association, a local organization regarded favorably by the British authorities.
The need for secrecy made organizing the conference problematic. Nevertheless, the towns and villages were represented as fairly as possible under the circumstances. Thirty-six delegates took part. Having each talked to his community about the need for religious and national cooperation, the great religious leader Sheikh Suleiman al-Taji al-Faruqi and the head of the Catholic community, Bullus Shehadeh, together prepared the groundwork for a demonstration of Muslim-Christian solidarity.34
Backed by slogans proclaiming the sanctity of Palestine for Christians and Muslims, Haifa’s mufti, Muhammad Murad, opened the conference and welcomed the honorable delegates and guests who had come from all over the country. He gave special thanks to the Haifa Muslim-Christian Association, which had convened the conference on behalf of the people of Palestine to protest the decision of the League of Nations to grant Britain a mandate that incorporated the Balfour Declaration.
The slogan of the conference was ‘Equality with the Mandate of Iraq’. The text of Iraq’s mandate stipulated that it would have a parliament elected on the democratic principle of one citizen, one vote. It acknowledged Iraq as a watani (national entity) that would eventually become independent. The sheikh explained to those gathered that these were the most elementary demands, yet they had been denied to the Palestinians because of the Balfour Declaration.
The conference also discussed issues of lesser magnitude concerning the participants and the public they represented. Since there was a shortage of grain in Palestine, the British authorities forbade exporting grain to neighboring countries, and the merchants were asking to be allowed to renew trade with Arab countries. Musa Kazim, who had spent time in a British jail, talked about the harsh conditions inside, and it was resolved to demand that the authorities improve the prison system.
This was Musa Kazim’s hour of greatness. Since having been deposed as mayor of
Jerusalem, he had not found his place in Palestinian politics. Now he began to fight for his role as leader of the national movement. He was chosen to head the executive committee of the conference, a nine-member body that soon became the Palestinians’ unofficial government under mandatory rule. Musa Kazim’s speech showed that he felt like the prophet of a new national movement:
This is the story of Palestine, the land of miracles and the supernatural, and the cradle of religions … And this is the congress which was born from the suffering of Palestine. It is Palestine’s representative and spokesman.
He went on to speak about Zionism as an organization that sought to separate Palestine from her friend Britain, and described the practical assistance the Palestinians had given the British during the battle for the country. The conference resolutions were phrased in the same spirit.
Needless to say, since Faysal had been driven from Damascus, Palestine was never again referred to as part of Greater Syria. However, Musa Kazim also introduced in his speech various imaginary elements that would do more harm than good once they were adopted by Palestinian public relations. He mixed morally and politically persuasive concrete arguments with foolish statements like, ‘Wherever the Jews lived they engaged in destruction, which is why they invented Marxism,’ undermining rational arguments against the Jewish claim to Palestine. This confusion persisted at the heart of the Palestinian national discourse – to some extent because of the Husaynis.
In all of the photographs from the conference, a mustached young man dressed in the modern suit preferred by his generation is standing on Musa Kazim’s right. Before long this young man, al-Hajj Amin, would grow a beard and put on a tarbush and become the Grand Mufti of Palestine. At this time, his position was not yet established in Haifa.