Anonymous Soldiers

by Bruce Hoffman

  The cabinet, however, had persisted in the fiction that the Royal Commission should not be perceived as rewarding violence. Accordingly, it had delayed the commissioners’ departure until the Arabs called off their strike. The Arab kings’ intervention, coupled with the Higher Arab Committee’s announcement of the strike’s suspension on October 11, had removed this obstacle, and the commission departed England early the following month. On that same day, the Palestine government announced the allocation of eighteen hundred Jewish immigration certificates for the half-yearly schedule ending in March 1937. The Higher Arab Committee was livid and declared its intention to boycott the commission—urging all Palestinian Arabs to do the same. The Yishuv was similarly dismayed. Though grateful that the government had not entirely suspended immigration, as the Arabs had demanded, the Jewish leadership was upset by this considerable diminishment of the semiannual quota. Moreover, they recalled with no small amount of trepidation the policy reversal that had followed the last commission that had come to Palestine following the 1929 riots. Mindful of the need to present its case as vigorously as possible to avert an identical outcome, the Jewish Agency decided to appear before, and cooperate with, the Royal Commission in hopes of favorably influencing its final report and recommendations.2

  The commission held thirty public and forty private hearings between November 1936 and January 1937. In addition, the commissioners traveled throughout the country gaining a broad perspective on the mandate’s operation and the country’s political, religious, social, and economic condition. According to Keith-Roach, “The commission had made a deep impression. It listened, heard, and cross-examined. The dignity, the courtesy, the searching questions, the promptitude and the accuracy of the transcript of questions and answers had won respect and everyone who met its members was loud in their praises.” Even the Higher Arab Committee was persuaded by the Arab kings to testify before the commission. “The commission left with everyone’s goodwill,” Keith-Roach approvingly noted.3

  It was not long, though, before rumors surfaced that the Royal Commission would likely recommend the partition of Palestine into separate Arab and Jewish states. Accordingly, the unresolved issue of a unified Jewish self-defense force assumed new urgency given that the anticipated Jewish state would require a properly organized army to replace the two clandestine paramilitary forces performing duplicative functions. Tehomi, of course, was already completely on board. It was Jabotinsky who still required convincing. Both Ben-Gurion and Eliahu Golomb pressed him to approve the draft agreement that Tehomi had negotiated the previous summer. Indeed, for the Jewish Agency, the mainstream Haganah, and Tehomi himself, the need for unity was greater than ever given that Tehomi in any event was losing control of some elements within the Haganah-Bet. One of his chief lieutenants, Moshe Rosenberg, was suspected of removing weapons from an armory without authorization and accused of robbing a bank, presumably to fund a breakaway splinter.4

  Then, in mid-March 1937, there was a new outbreak of Arab violence. Over the course of four days, six Jews were murdered in four separate incidents. Although isolated and geographically disparate, the attacks were a tragic reminder of how easily Jewish blood was spilled and how quickly events might again spiral out of control. Worse still, the discontent swelling within the Haganah-Bet’s ranks since Tehomi had returned from Paris now triggered a dangerous spate of unsanctioned retaliation. The most serious incident involved three Haganah-Bet members who, having been rebuffed by their commander, decided to take matters into their own hands. One built a bomb that he gave to the other two, who traveled by motorcycle to the Arab village of Yazur, located along the Tel Aviv–Jerusalem road. Pulling up in front of a busy café, the rider hurled the explosive inside before fleeing. Although no one was killed, several people were seriously wounded and the coffeehouse completely destroyed.5

  On April 15, 1937, Golomb addressed the Histadrut Executive. He declared that in this time of crisis the anomalous existence of two paramilitary forces performing identical functions could not continue. Moreover, the risk of further acts of vengeance necessitated that control over all Jewish military activities be exercised by one central body. “We must see to it,” Golomb demanded, “that there is one united group.” But it was already too late. Earlier in the month, Jabotinsky had been presented with a new set of conditions governing the merger that he had rejected out of hand. Ben-Gurion now issued an ultimatum to the Haganah-Bet: either submit to the authority of the Yishuv’s official institutions or suffer the consequences.6

  Tehomi had in any case come too far to be deterred by Jabotinsky’s rejection of the merger and heeded Ben-Gurion’s demand. He pressed ahead with unification even as a majority of Haganah-Bet commanders objected. On April 9 a letter arrived from Jabotinsky reminding Tehomi of the commitment he had made in Paris and ordering him to desist from merging the two groups. He refused, and the following day a group of younger Haganah-Bet officers issued a statement announcing Tehomi’s expulsion from the group and the creation of a new organization that they called the Irgun Zvai Le’umi (National Military Organization), often referred to simply as the Irgun or by its Hebrew acronym, Etzel.7

  The unification issue was not as simple as the mere reconciliation of two different paramilitary units performing identical functions. The political and ideological disagreements separating the two Haganah organizations were formidable, reflecting the “minimalist” and “maximalist” policies of their respective political masters. The Jewish state that the Royal Commission was rumored likely to propose comprised an even smaller portion of Palestine than most Zionists were prepared to accept. After considerable debate and discussion, the Zionist Organization—and the various socialist-labor groups under its aegis—had nonetheless agreed to accept the commission’s anticipated recommendation as a basis for further negotiation. The Revisionist Party, however, and the organizations under its umbrella, rejected the plan outright and unequivocally demanded a Jewish state encompassing the land on both sides of the Jordan River—that is, not only the entirety of Palestine’s current geographic borders, but that of Trans-Jordan as well.

  Jabotinsky was suspicious that the Jewish Agency’s renewed merger overtures were a plot to stifle dissent within the Yishuv and thereby facilitate the acceptance of the Royal Commission scheme in advance of its announcement. Accordingly, the breakdown of negotiations and estrangement in relations that resulted in the formation of the Irgun were perhaps inevitable. Golomb claimed that about half of the Haganah-Bet’s three thousand members left with Tehomi and joined the Haganah. Irgun sources, however, state that no more than a thousand and perhaps only a few hundred people actually defected—and that many had second thoughts and subsequently joined the Irgun.8

  Jabotinsky appointed Robert Bitker, a thirty-year-old Russian émigré who had led the Betar detachment in China’s Shanghai International Zone, as commander. Abraham Stern, a brilliant classicist from Hebrew University and one of the hard-core junior Haganah-Bet officers who had opposed Tehomi, was appointed secretary. Another Russian émigré, Moshe Rosenberg, was named chief of staff, and David Raziel was left in charge of the Jerusalem detachment. Jabotinsky, according to his biographer Joseph Schechtman, would exercise “supreme moral authority in all major Irgun matters.” In practical terms, because the British forbade Jabotinsky to return to Palestine, he would have no role or authority over the Irgun’s day-to-day operations or in the appointment or promotion of officers other than the commander. In addition, no overt or formal ties were established between the new group and the Revisionist Party, freeing Jabotinsky to pursue the party’s political aims without publicly associating himself with the illegal Irgun. Nonetheless, it is clear that Jabotinsky regarded the Irgun as a part of, and subordinate to, the Revisionist Party. The Jewish Agency similarly concealed its actual relationship with the Haganah—which was, of course, also an illegal organization. But where the Haganah was directly subordinate to the Yishuv’s elected civilian leadership in the Vaad Le’umi
(Jewish National Council) and to its appointed representatives in the Jewish Agency, and therefore ultimately accountable to the Yishuv, the Irgun was completely independent and therefore accountable neither to the Revisionist Party nor to any popularly elected civilian leadership or, for that matter, to anyone except Jabotinsky himself.9

  On April 23, Raziel and Stern distributed a statement to their fellow Irgunists defining the new organization’s mission. “To those faithful to the oath!” it began.

  Today there exists in the land two organizations: one leftist subject to the authority of the left, which to our great misfortune a portion of our people joined; and the second is Etzel in the land of Israel which continues in its role of fighting for the honor and life of the nation and its revival. We believe in the mission/destiny of the movement and in its power to bring into existence from anew complete independent life within the historical borders of the Hebrew state.

  We believe in the sacrifice of battle and the sacrifice of the Israeli youth that sets as its goal the strength and independence of the core of the Hebrew strength.

  Anonymous soldiers!

  The core of Hebrew strength stands loyal to every order and to every sacrifice.

  From these ranks only death do us part!10

  The Royal Commission’s 404-page report was published on July 7, 1937. “It is the most exhaustive and fairest document ever written about Palestine,” Keith-Roach observed, “a model that every person in public life should read.” As everyone in Palestine surmised, the commission recommended partition.11

  Palestine’s Arabs rejected the report in its entirety. On July 23 the Higher Arab Committee wrote to both Ormsby-Gore and the League of Nations’ Permanent Mandates Commission to express its “repugnance to the whole of the partition scheme.” It instead demanded that Britain terminate the mandate, grant Palestine full independence, and immediately ban all Jewish immigration and land purchase. The Arab leadership found the report’s recommendation of population and land transfers between the proposed Arab and Jewish states—if necessary, at the point of British bayonets—especially repellent. Muslims outside Palestine, especially in India, also condemned the partition proposal, thus threatening to turn Muslims elsewhere against Britain.12

  The Yishuv was not pleased with the report either. The proposed Jewish state comprised less than a fifth of Palestine and was thus much smaller than even the diminutive state that the Jews had been led to expect. However, although its very modest territorial dimensions were completely unacceptable, a confluence of urgent concerns argued against outright rejection. The consolidation of the Nazis’ power in Germany, coupled with growing persecution of Jews, the likely renewal of the Arab Rebellion given that community’s unmitigated opposition to the partition plan, and the Yishuv’s fear that Britain’s commitment to the Jewish national home might erode further, compelled the Zionist leadership to accept the Royal Commission’s recommendations, albeit with serious reservations. Jewish acquiescence to the Royal Commission’s plan was made conditional upon negotiations to increase the size of the proposed Jewish state.13

  Rather than having resolved, much less defused, the causes that had triggered the Arab Rebellion, the Royal Commission’s report had the opposite effect. It simply confirmed everyone’s worst fears of the inevitability of some new clash as each party to the dispute—Arab, Jew, and Briton alike—prepared for the next round of bloodshed. Accordingly, in July 1937, a new government statement on Palestine was issued which warned that any new outbreak of violence would quickly be suppressed. For the next two months, however, the country remained deceptively quiet. It was the Qassamiyyun who would again be responsible for the volcanic explosion that followed and thereby provided the spark that marked the start of the Arab Rebellion’s second, considerably more violent phase.14

  Lewis Andrews, the acting district commissioner for the Galilee, was among the most popular British officials in Palestine. A fluent Arabic and Hebrew speaker, he had first come to the country twenty years earlier as a young soldier serving under General Allenby. After the war, Andrews worked in OETA before joining the Palestine government as an administrator and then development officer. A native of Sydney, Australia, he rose quickly in the Palestine civil service and had played an important role in facilitating the Royal Commission’s travels around Palestine the previous winter. Andrews, however, was reputed to be “a friend of the Zionists” and “an Arab hater” who would in any event have certainly incurred Arab displeasure because of his meticulous documentation of Arab land sales to Jews—including, allegedly, many transactions involving prominent members of the Arab Executive and the Supreme Muslim Council. Indeed, the forty-one-year-old husband and father of three small children knew that he was a marked man. In mid-September, Andrews had told his deputy, Christopher Pirie-Gordon, that he was expecting an attempt on his life and even named the village from which he believed the assailants would come.15

  Undaunted by these threats, Andrews and his police bodyguard arrived on September 26 at the Anglican church in Nazareth, where he regularly worshipped and served as church warden, shortly before the evensong service scheduled to begin at six o’clock. They had just parked their car at the bottom of a narrow lane leading up to the church when Pirie-Gordon pulled up next to them. Andrews and Pirie-Gordon were engaged in conversation as they walked up the lane, with Constable Peter McEwan following close behind, when Andrews noticed a group of four seemingly ordinary fellaheen loitering up ahead. Something about the Arabs suddenly alarmed Andrews, who shoved Pirie-Gordon aside and shouted at him, “Run for your life!” The four Arabs immediately produced revolvers and started shooting. Constable McEwan was hit first but managed to return fire before losing consciousness. Andrews raced toward the church and had just reached the steps to the courtyard when he was struck down. The gunmen reportedly continued to pour fire into Andrews’s lifeless body before turning their attention to the fleeing Pirie-Gordon, who tripped and fell to the ground, where he lay still until the shooting ceased. Convinced that they had killed Pirie-Gordon as well, the assassins then made good their escape. The assistant district commissioner was the only survivor.16

  With Andrews’s murder the Palestine government was finally roused to consciousness. The assassination of the highest-ranking British civil servant in Palestine to date was seen as a declaration of war on Britain—which is exactly what the Arab extremists responsible for it had intended. Within the week, the government enacted the harsh security measures approved by the cabinet earlier in the year in anticipation of any resumption of violence, including the dissolution of the Supreme Muslim Council. Haj Amin was removed from his official posts as its president and chairman of the General Waqf Committee. A warrant was issued for his arrest and that of all the Higher Arab Committee’s leaders—each of whom was also served with deportation orders. The mufti, however, was able to avoid capture by remaining safely within the sacred confines of the Noble Sanctuary on the Temple Mount, where he had taken refuge since July, when a previous arrest warrant had been issued. A standoff had followed whereby the British authorities, fearful that any attempt to forcibly seize him might trigger an international incident, had arrayed police officers around the Temple Mount on permanent watch. Their efforts, however, were to no avail. Under cover of darkness on the night of October 12, Haj Amin disguised himself in Bedouin clothing—although some accounts claim he had dressed as a woman—and climbed down the Temple Mount’s outer wall, where a car was waiting to spirit him to Jaffa, from which he went by ship to Lebanon. He was never to return to Palestine but for a brief visit to East Jerusalem thirty years later. The majority of Haj Amin’s colleagues on the Higher Arab Committee and its subordinate local committees were less fortunate. Five committee members were arrested and placed aboard two Royal Navy ships waiting in Haifa harbor to transport them to exile in the Seychelles islands. Two hundred others were also swept up by police and imprisoned. The mufti’s brother and trusted confidant, Jamal al-Husseini, however, also eva
ded capture and escaped to Syria.17

  The successful apprehension of so many of the rebellion’s key political figures had been facilitated by the news blackout that William Battershill, the chief secretary and, in Wauchope’s absence, the officer administering government, had imposed under the Order in Council’s draconian powers. This had also enabled him to order the suspension of all telegraph and telephone service throughout Palestine and hence prevent news of the arrests from being communicated. Nonetheless, even though the entirety of the rebellion’s political leadership was either in custody or in exile, its military commanders remained at large.18

  On the evening of October 14, Palestine would be brought to its knees by a coordinated series of rebel attacks throughout the country. Shortly after dusk, Jewish buses came under Arab attack outside Jerusalem. About the same time, a basket concealing two bombs was found in a Jerusalem café popular with British police, and shortly afterward the evening train from Haifa to Jerusalem was assaulted. Battershill immediately imposed a curfew on Jerusalem, but the locus of the violence merely spread elsewhere. Daybreak brought only a temporary respite, as Arab raiders had attacked the country’s main airport at Lydda, burning down the buildings housing customs, passport, and communications offices. The Arab Rebellion had clearly started anew.19