Hajj Amin Al Husayni and The Haram Al Sharif A Pan Islamic or Palestinian Nationalist Cause

British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies
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Hajj Amin al-Husayni and the Haram al-Sharif: A

Pan-Islamic or Palestinian Nationalist Cause?
Erik Freas
To cite this article: Erik Freas (2012) Hajj Amin al-Husayni and the Haram al-Sharif: A Pan-Islamic
or Palestinian Nationalist Cause?, British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, 39:1, 19-51, DOI:
10.1080/13530194.2012.659446
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British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, April 2012
39(1), 19–51
Hajj Amin al-Husayni and the Haram

al-Sharif: A Pan-Islamic or
Palestinian Nationalist Cause?
ERIK FREAS*
ABSTRACT The World Islamic Conference, held in Jerusalem in 1931 under the
auspices of Hajj Amin al-Husayni and the Supreme Muslim Council, marked
a turning point in the Palestinian nationalist struggle as well as in the struggle
between the two main factions—the more extremist one led by Hajj Amin and
the more moderate Opposition—for control of the Palestinian leadership. The
Conference, though co-sponsored by Shawkat ‘Ali and the Muslim Indian Congress,
and ostensibly representative of the worldwide community of Muslims, was
effectively dominated by Hajj Amin and his Palestinian supporters. Through his
control of its proceedings, Hajj Amin was able to redefine the Palestinian nationalist
cause as essentially a pan-Islamic one, in connection with the perceived need to
defend the Muslim holy sites in Jerusalem against Zionist encroachment. Contrasted
here with the World Islamic Conference (and held concurrently with it) is the Second
Arab Orthodox Congress. Whereas the World Islamic Conference sought to redefine
an issue arguably specific to Palestine as pan-Islamic, the local Christian Orthodox
community, in keeping with its desire to Arabise Palestine’s Greek Orthodox Church
(hence their self-designation as the Arab Orthodox Church in Palestine), sought to
redefine what was essentially a religious matter—concerning the succession of the
Orthodox Patriarch of Jerusalem—in nationalist terms. It was not simply a matter of
differing ideological perspectives; defining the cause of the Haram al-Sharif as a
pan-Islamic one also served a political objective, namely the enhancement of Hajj
Amin’s position vis-à-vis his political rivals. Nonetheless, whatever the motivations
involved, this development was a factor in the marginalisation of the Christian Arab
component of the Palestinian nationalist movement. Whereas at the start of the
British Mandate they had played a role disproportionately large relative to their
actual numbers, by its end, their role in the nationalist movement had diminished
almost to the point of near inconsequence, as evidenced, for instance, by their
marginal involvement in the Arab Revolt (1936 –1939).
Palestinian Identity—at the Nexus of Pan-Arab and Pan-Islamic Identity

When considering the Palestinian nationalist movement during the British
Mandate period, Uri Kupferschmidt discerns three different orientations
*Borough of Manhattan Community College, City University of New York, 199 Chambers Street, New York, NY
10007, USA. E-mail: efreas@bmcc.cuny.edu
ISSN 1353-0194 print/ISSN 1469-3542 online/12/10019–33 q 2012 British Society for Middle Eastern Studies
http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/13530194.2012.659446
ERIK FREAS
underlying how Palestinian Arabs defined both their identity and their struggle—a
local Palestinian one, a pan-Arab one, and a pan-Islamic one. As he explains,
‘[t]he three were inextricably interwoven, as long as all three could be of
assistance to the Arabs of Palestine in attempting to shake off the yoke of British
rule and to terminate the Jewish National Home policy’.1 One might take this
further, and propose that the local or purely ‘Palestinian’ orientation was largely
defined by elements of the latter two, and that whether one was a Christian or
Muslim played a significant role in determining which of these two broader
orientations predominated. Speaking generally, Christians were most likely to
define the Palestinian movement as essentially a secular nationalist one, albeit, one
within which Islam had an important place as part of the Arabs’ shared cultural
heritage. For the majority of Muslims, the emphasis was generally the reverse. The
Palestinian movement was first and foremost an Islamic one. What was
‘Palestinian’ about it were the circumstances particular to that corner of the
Muslim world, and what was most significant about being Palestinian was that
one’s homeland contained the Haram al-Sharif, the third holiest site in Islam. The
significance of being Arab was largely determined by the special place allotted
them with respect to Islam, not the other way around.
That Palestine’s Muslim and Christian Arabs conceived of Arab (and by
extension, Palestinian) identity somewhat differently was reflective of certain
ideological developments then affecting the Arab world as a whole. On the one
hand (and defined here in very broad terms), the Islamic reform or salafiyyah
movement had come to define a model of Arab nationalism wherein the Arab
nation was to be understood primarily on the basis of its special relationship to
Islam. Within this model, essentially, the Arabs were conceived of as the Muslim
community par excellence; they represented the Islam practised by Muhammad
and his immediate successors through the Abbasid period, something to be
distinguished from later Islamic practice, which was understood as having been
corrupted due to the umma’s eventual domination by non-Arab peoples—in
particular, the Turks.2 During the Mandate period, salafı̄ Arabism would have a
strong appeal among many of Palestine’s Muslims.3 Notably, to the extent that
Islam was conceived of in civilisational (as opposed to strictly religious) terms,
such a model of Arab identity was, in principle, open to non-Muslims. That said, it
is hard to escape the implication that, within such a framework, non-Muslim Arabs
were in some sense less ‘Arab’ than Muslim Arabs.4
On the other hand, for most Christian Arabs, many of whom were influenced by
their experience in American and European missionary schools, the relationship
between Arab identity and Islam was conceived of in a different manner. While
constituting a significant part of a shared culture and history, it by no means defined
1
Uri M. Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim Congress of 1931 in Jerusalem’, Asian and African Studies, 12
(1978), pp. 123 –125.
2
See, for instance, Hasan Kayali, Arabs and Young Turks: Ottomanism, Arabism, and Islamism in the Ottoman
Empire, 1908–1918 (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1997), pp. 36, 48; also Sylvia Haim,
introduction to Arab Nationalism: An Anthology (Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 1962),
p. 22.
3
Rashid Khalidi, ‘Society and Ideology in Late Ottoman Syria: Class, Education, Profession and Confession’,
in John Spangnolo (ed.), Problems of the Modern Middle East in Historical Perspective: Essays in Honour of
Hourani (Reading: Ithaca Press, 1996), pp. 119–131.
4
See, for instance, Sir Steven Runciman, The Historic Role of the Christian Arabs in Palestine, the second
Carreras Arab Lecture of the University of Essex, 26 November 1968 (London: Longman for the University of
Essex, 1970), p. 1.
20
HAJJ AMIN AL-HUSAYNI AND THE HARAM AL-SHARIF
who the Arabs were in any definitive sense. One was no more or less Arab for being
non-Muslim. Christians then tended to define Islam as but one aspect, albeit a very
significant one, of a more broadly defined Arab identity, one essentially secular in
character, and centred around a shared race, language and historical legacy. As
such, it was an identity equally encompassing of non-Muslims as Muslims.5
Whatever ideological divergence might have existed, for the greater part of the
Mandate period there is little question regarding the strength of nationalist unity
between Palestine’s Christian and Muslim Arabs. This was especially the case in
as far as the nationalist movement was defined by its opposition to Zionism; initially
at least, it appears that Christian Arabs were more strongly opposed to Zionism
than Muslim Arabs.6 At the beginning of the British Mandate, Christians, who
made up close to 11 per cent of the total Arab population in Palestine,7 were
disproportionately represented among the leadership of the nationalist movement.8
For instance, Christian representation in the Muslim-Christian Associations at the
start of the Mandate exceeded their proportional numbers in Palestine. According to
Muslih, this reflected a number of characteristics particular to Palestine’s Christian
Arab community.9 Thus, while in many respects Christians were well integrated
vis-à-vis the larger Muslim population,10 they tended to be more urbanised,11 more
active in commerce and more highly educated, at least in secular terms.12
So long as the much strived for state remained a political hypothetical as opposed
to an actual impending reality—that is, as long as there was the immediate problem
of Zionism to contend with—ideological differences were generally obscured within
the context of the local orientation, that is, the Palestinian one, which was largely
defined by the Zionist threat. Better yet, they might be rationalised away altogether.
As Khalidi discusses it, underlying the nationalist project was an attempt to ‘elide,
ignore, or resolve religious differences, or to bury them in a shared vision of an
other’.13 At times, however, circumstances related to specific events were such that
Christians and Muslims were unable to ignore what in the end were significantly
5
Derek Hopwood, The Russian Presence in Syria and Palestine, 1843– 1914: Church and Politics in the Near
East (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), pp. 175–176; also C. Earnest Dawn, From Ottomanism to Arabism:
Essays on the Origins of Arab Nationalism (Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press, 1973), pp. 387–388.
6
See, for instance, Yaacov Ro’i, ‘The Zionist Attitude to the Arabs’, Middle Eastern Studies, 4(3) (1968), pp.
198, 206, 212–213; also Anthony O’Mahony, ‘Palestinian Christians: Religion, Politics and Society, c.
1800– 1948’, in Anthony O’Mahony (ed.), Palestinian Christians: Religion, Politics and Society in the Holy Land
(London: Melisende, 1999), pp. 28 –29, 45– 46.
7
Based on the figures given in the 1922 Census—see Table I, p. 5, in Palestine, Reports and General Abstracts
of the Census of 1922, Taken on the 23 rd of October, 1922, compiled by J.B. Barron, Superintendent of the
Census (London, 1922); also Janet Abu-Lughod, ‘The Demographic Transformation of Palestine’, in Ibrahim
Abu-Lughod (ed.), The Transformation of Palestine: Essays on the Origin and Development of the Arab-Israeli
Conflict (Evanston, IL: Northwestern University Press, 1971), p. 142.
8
See, for instance, Muhammad Y. Muslih, The Origins of Palestinian Nationalism, The Institute for Palestine
Studies Series (New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), p. 158; Millicent Fawcett, Easter in Palestine,
1921– 1922 (London: T. Fisher Unwin Limited, 1926), p. 59; and Sir Steven Runciman, The Historic Role of the
Christian Arabs in Palestine, the Second Carreras Arab Lecture of the University of Essex, 26 November 1968
(London: Longman for the University of Essex, 1970), p. 16.
9
Muslih, The Origins of Palestinian Nationalism, p. 158.
10
O’Mahony, ‘Palestinian Christians’, p. 36; Daphne Tsimhoni, ‘The Status of the Arab Christians under the
British Mandate in Palestine’, Middle Eastern Studies, 20(4) (1984), pp. 184–186.
11
O’Mahony, ‘Palestinian Christians’, p. 36.
12
Fawcett, Easter in Palestine, p. 59; Daphne Tsimhoni, ‘The British Mandate and the Arab Christians in
Palestine 1920–1925’ (PhD thesis, SOAS, University of London, 1976), p. 168; Robert Brenton Betts, Christians
in the Arab East: A Political Study (Athens: Lycabettus Press, 1978), p. 35; and Ylana Miller, Government and
Society in Rural Palestine, 1920–1948 (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1985), p. 50.
13
Rashid Khalidi, Palestinian Identity: The Construction of Modern National Consciousness (New York:
Columbia University Press, 1997), p. 50.
21
ERIK FREAS
different orientations. One such event was the World Islamic Conference, which
convened in Jerusalem in 1931.
The power struggle between the two main factions of the Palestinian leadership
was an important factor in terms of which orientation prevailed with respect to the
Palestinian nationalist movement. On the one side was the more radical faction
represented by Hajj Amin al-Husayni, the Grand Mufti of Jerusalem (and thereby
the highest ranking Muslim cleric in the country) and President of the Supreme
Muslim Council (a body created by the British and responsible for the country’s
shari‘a courts and awqāf, or religious endowments), and his supporters.14 On the
other side was the moderate or ‘Opposition’ camp,15 strongly associated with the
interests of the merchant elite16 and perhaps best represented by the Nashashibi
family.17 The latter tended to avoid accentuating the religious character of the
Palestinian struggle. While in part this reflected the relatively large Christian
component of the Opposition,18 it also reflected a strategic consideration, inasmuch
as doing so would only have served to strengthen the faction dominated by Hajj
Amin. Given the religious basis of his status, accentuation of the Islamic character of
what were, after all, issues that might just as easily have been defined as essentially
nationalist served to strengthen his position with respect to this internal rivalry. One
such issue was the Wailing Wall controversy, which Hajj Amin sought to
characterise as a matter of general Muslim concern on the basis of its Islamic
significance.19 More specifically, I argue here that he sought to transform the
Palestinian struggle against Zionism into an Islamic one by demonstrating the
danger Zionism posed to the Islamic holy sites.20
Hajj Amin’s behaviour in this respect can be understood within a larger theoretical
context, one wherein political actors seek to manipulate proto-nationalist symbols
within a new nationalist context in order to further their own political ambitions.
Thus, for instance, in Europe during the second half of the nineteenth century, the
expansion of political participation raised questions regarding political legitimacy.
Related to this, Hobsbawm has argued that the educated elite utilised nationalism, in
the form of ‘invented’ traditions and a historicising of the present, as a means of
shoring up what was becoming an endangered power base. Put another way, through
14
Often referred to as the majlisı̄n, a reference to Hajj Amin al-Husayni’s position as President of the Supreme
Muslim Council, al-majlis al-islamiyyah al-‘aliyyah. In many respects, this institution functioned as Hajj Amin’s
power base.
15
The term mu‘āridı̄n or ‘Opposition’ was a direct reference to the fact that the moderate camp largely defined
itself by its opposition to the faction centred around Hajj Amin al-Husayni.
16
Abu Manneh, Butros, ‘Jerusalem in the Tanzimat Period: The New Ottoman Administration and the
Notables’, Die Welt des Islams, 30 (1990), p. 23.
17
The most notable member of which was Raghib al-Nashashibi, the mayor of Jerusalem from 1921 (initially,
by appointment) until 1934. Notably, Raghib al-Nashashibi was often described as being ‘European-minded’;
both his first and second wives were non-Muslims, the first being French and the latter Turkish Catholic, and in
general he tended to associate quite strongly with Christians. Indeed, he was one of the few Muslim leaders to
associate with Christians socially and not just in political organisations; one of his closest associates was Ya’qub
Farraj, one of the leading figures of Jerusalem’s Orthodox Christian community. Tsimhoni, ‘The British Mandate
and the Arab Christians in Palestine’, p. 289. Additionally, he had his sons educated in Christian schools, as noted
by his nephew Nassar Eddin in his biography of his uncle. Nasser Eddin Nashashibi, Jerusalem’s Other Voice:
Ragheb Nashashibi and Moderation in Palestinian Politics, 1920–1948 (Exeter: Ithaca Press, 1990), p. 4.
18
See, for instance, Erik Freas, ‘Muslim-Christian Relations in Palestine during the British Mandate Period’
(PhD thesis, University of St. Andrews, 2006), pp. 207, 287–290.
19
See, for instance, CO 733/195/7, letter from Hajj Amin to the High Commissioner, 11 October 1931;
also Martin Kolinsky, Law, Order and Riots in Mandatory Palestine, 1928 – 35 (London: St. Martin’s Press,
1993), p. 162.
20
Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, pp. 6 –9.
22
the appropriation of public national ceremonies, rituals and symbols, they sought to
engender feelings of loyalty and patriotism among the masses.21 In the Arab case, we
might contrast this with the situation during the inter-war period, which witnessed
a growing political awareness among the larger population and a similar need among
the traditional elite to legitimise their status.
Relevant here is the relationship posited by some historians between modern
national and proto-nationalist identities, the latter referring to communal identities
pre-dating the modern period, and often expressed in religious and ethnic terms.22
When considering the relationship between proto-nationalist notions of
community and modern nationalist ideology, Hobsbawm has noted that where
a certain degree of compatibility is present, ‘existing symbols and sentiments . . .
[can] be mobilised behind a modern cause or a modern state’.23 Considering the
Arab case more directly, Suleiman characterises nationalist movements as a case
of mining the past in order to legitimise ‘modernisation projects’.24 Salafı̄
Arabism, which essentially constituted a modernising movement predicated on
Islamic reform, might be understood in this context.
Political actors have often been able to utilise proto-nationalist symbols, what
Gellner refers to as cultural ‘shreds’ and ‘patches’ (the equivalent of Hobsbawm’s
‘tool-kit’) for their own purposes, and as required by the situation.25 Hajj Amin,
through his positions as Grand Mufti and President of the Supreme Muslim Council,
proved particularly adept at appropriating such symbols for the purpose of
strengthening his own political position vis-à-vis his political rivals. Suleiman
argues, much as did Hobsbawm, that such manipulation should somehow resonate
with a genuinely felt concern, ideally one of a socio-political or socio-economic
nature.26 The Wailing Wall disturbances of 1929 were reflective of one such
genuinely felt concern, one moreover that had strong political implications (given
its contentious character vis-à-vis Zionism) and which meshed quite nicely with
certain economic grievances (related not only to Zionist economic competition, but
also the widely held belief among Muslims that, with respect to government
employment, Christian Arabs enjoyed preferential treatment). As it turned out, it
was also a concern that Hajj Amin was able to effectively turn to his advantage,
essentially by characterising—in a manner entirely compatible with salafı̄
Arabism—the most potent proto-nationalist symbol in Palestine, the Haram al-
Sharif, as both a nationalist cause and a pan-Islamic one. Indeed, the World Islamic
Conference, which he co-sponsored shortly after the disturbances, would serve to
greatly enhance his status, both within Palestine and throughout the Muslim world.
21
Eric Hobsbawm, ‘Mass-Producing Traditions: Europe, 1870–1914’, in Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger
(eds), The Invention of Tradition (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1983), pp. 265–283.
22
Concerning the relationship between the two, see, for instance, Adrian Hastings, The Construction of
Nationhood, Ethnicity, Religion and Nationalism (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997). John Breuilly,
Nationalism and the State, 2nd edition (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1993). Eric Hobsbawm,
Nations and Nationalism since 1780: Programme, Myth, Reality (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press,
1990); and Anthony D. Smith, The Ethnic Origins of Nations (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1986).
23
Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780, p. 77.
24
Yasir Suleiman, The Arabic Language and National Identity: A Study in Ideology (Edinburgh: Edinburgh
University Press, 2003), p. 40.
25
Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1983), p. 56; and Oliver Zimmer,
Nationalism in Europe, 1890–1940 (Studies in European History) (Basingstoke: Palgrave MacMillan, 2003), pp.
21–22; also Hobsbawm, ‘Mass-Producing Traditions’, pp. 268–270.
26
Suleiman, The Arabic Language, p. 41; and Zimmer, Nationalism in Europe, pp. 21 –22; also Hobsbawm,
‘Mass-Producing Traditions’, pp. 266–268.
23
ERIK FREAS
The Wailing Wall Disturbances

At its heart, the Wailing Wall controversy concerned what were contested
religious rights pertaining to the Western Wall in Jerusalem, what constituted the
western exterior of what had been the Temple of Herod (itself built on the site of
the Temple of Solomon), and a component of the Haram al-Sharif, a rectangular
area containing the Aqsa Mosque and the Dome of the Rock, and the most holy
Muslim site in Jerusalem. Under the Ottoman religious status quo,27 Jews had been
allowed to worship there, but had been restricted in terms of what religious
appurtenances they might use as part of that worship. Under British rule, the
question of exactly what appurtenances were permitted became a hotly contested
one, and over the course of the Mandate, came to constitute as much a nationalist
as a religious issue.28 Thus, when in September 1928, on the Jewish Day of
Atonement, government authorities had a Jewish partition screen removed from
the pavement in front of the Wailing Wall, both Jews and Muslims quickly
mobilised, the latter most prominently in the formation of the Society for the
Protection of the Muslim Holy Places.29 A partial resolution was found with the
White Paper of November 1928, wherein the British government indicated its
intention to uphold the status quo, a decision understood as favouring the Muslim
position.30 This soon elicited a reaction from the Jews, and in late July 1929, the
sixteenth Zionist Congress in Zurich passed a resolution expressing its dismay
over the position adopted by the British and Palestine governments. This in turn
had the effect of exciting Arab opinion in Palestine, as it was taken as evidence of
an attempt by the Jews to pressure the British government to reverse the decision
taken in the 1928 White Paper. On 15 August, the day after the Jewish Feast of
Tisha B’Av, Jews staged a demonstration in front of the Wailing Wall. The
following day, a Muslim counter-demonstration took place.31
The controversy culminated in the Wailing Wall disturbances of August 1929.
On 17 August, a Jewish youth was killed in an altercation with Arab youths. His
funeral the following day quickly turned into a political demonstration directed
against both the Arabs and the Palestine government. Tensions continued to rise,
27
Effectively, the Turkish administrative system determining the rights of the different religious communities
vis-à-vis the various religious sites under Ottoman jurisdiction, the guiding principle of which was to uphold
whatever had come to constitute traditional jurisdictions. See Command Paper Number 3530, Commission on the
Palestine Disturbances of August, 1929, Presented by the Secretary of State for the Colonies to Parliament by
Command of His Majesty, 1930, p. 35.
28
From the Jewish side, there was clearly an intention to possess the Wall, and even some evidence that the Jews
had designs on the entire Temple Mount. See, for instance, CO 733/175/2, correspondence from Braude and
Horowitz to Officer Administering the Government of Palestine, 19 August 1929 and correspondence from Luke
to Passfield, 22 August 1929. See also Philip Mattar, ‘The Role of the Mufti of Jerusalem in the Political Struggle
over the Western Wall, 1928–29’, Middle Eastern Studies, 19(1) (1983), pp. 106–107. Relevant here is that
under the status quo—which, under the British, continued to guide policy with respect to religious matters—the
creation of facts on the ground often had the effect of legitimising one side’s claims. Command Paper Number
3530, p. 35. Muslims in Palestine were thus fearful that if they acquiesced to Jewish demands that they be allowed
to bring appurtenances such as chairs and benches, an ark and a screen for dividing men from women, the Western
Wall would in effect become an open synagogue, and by fait accompli, a Jewish possession. See, for example, CO
733/160/18, correspondence from Hassan Abul Sa’oud, Secretary General Moslem Conference, Jerusalem, to
Chancellor, 7 November 1928, attached to correspondence from Officer Administering the Government of
Palestine to Amery, 13 November 1928; also Mattar, ‘The Role of the Mufti’, p. 105.
29
Formed in conjuncture with the ‘General Muslim Conference’ convened in November 1928. Regarding the
conference in general, see CO 733/160/18; also Command Paper Number 3530, p. 32.
30
Command Paper Number 3530, p. 35.
31
Ibid., pp. 47–57, 154–155; also USNA, 59/8/353/4/867n. 404 Wailing Wall/280, Palestine Police Records.
See also Kolinsky, Law, Order and Riots, p. 44.
24
and by 23 August rumours had begun to spread among the Arabs that the Jews
intended to attack the Aqsa Mosque.32 Many of the Muslims attending Friday
prayer at the Mosque that day came armed with clubs, knives, swords and even
guns.33 During the midday prayer, inflammatory speeches were made, and many
of the worshippers, upon departing the Haram area, quickly set upon any Jews they
encountered. The disturbances soon spread throughout Jerusalem and shortly
thereafter to the rest of Palestine, the worst attacks taking place in Hebron, where
more than 60 Jews—many of them women and children—were murdered, and
almost as many severely wounded.34 By 30 August, the disturbances had finally
come to an end. The official estimation was 133 Jews killed and 339 wounded, and
116 Arabs killed and 232 wounded, the majority at the hands of the Palestine
police and British military forces.35
Even prior to the Wailing Wall disturbances, Hajj Amin al-Husayni had been
active in combating what he perceived to be Zionist ambitions vis-à-vis the Haram
al-Sharif. Thus, in October 1928, he addressed two memoranda to the British
administration in which he expressed his belief that the Jews were trying to
pressure the British into turning the Wall over to the Jews.36 The following month,
he convened a General Muslim conference in Jerusalem at which it was
emphasised that the Wall, or al-Buraq,37 ‘forms part of the Mosque of Aqsa [and]
is a Muslim Holy Place . . . [and that the] Jews, similarly to others, [were] only
entitled to visit this place, simply stand therein and neither to hold prayers nor to
raise their voices or give speeches’.38 He also helped create a Society for the
Defence of al-Masjid al-Aqsa, the main purpose of which was, through the
publication of appeals and manifestos as well as by word of mouth, to make
Palestine’s Muslim population aware of the Zionist threat.39 As noted above, to a
large extent such actions reflected a tactical consideration vis-à-vis his political
rivals.40 Given Hajj Amin’s positions as Grand Mufti and President of the
Supreme Muslim Council, there is little question that it served his own political
ambitions to appeal to Islamic sentiment, particularly given that such sentiment
still resonated strongly, particularly among the largely Muslim peasantry, the great
majority of whom, at the beginning of the Mandate at least, were relatively
uneducated and unfamiliar with notions related to secular nationalism.
At the same time, it would be a mistake to see such emphasis as something strictly
calculated. Having studied the shari‘a extensively, first in Jerusalem and then later
32
Command Paper Number 3530, pp. 56 –57, 91; also USNA, 59/8/353/4/867n. 404.
33
Mattar, ‘The Role of the Mufti’, p. 114.
34
Other Palestinian communities that saw major disturbances were Safad, Haifa, Beisan and Jaffa. Safad was
particularly badly hit and saw some 45 Jews either killed or wounded. Several Jewish colonies were also
subjected to attacks, amongst them Motza. Counter-attacks in which Jews attacked Arabs also took place, the
most notable of these being in Jaffa and Jerusalem. Command Paper Number 3530, pp. 63 –65.
35
Command Paper Number 3530, p. 65. Though it is likely the Arab numbers were higher, inasmuch as many of
those killed and injured were never brought to hospital and thus were not counted. Kolinsky, Law, Order and
Riots, p. 42.
36
CO 733/160/17, correspondences from Hajj Amin to the High Commissioner, 4 and 8 October 1928.
37
In reference to the Muslim tradition maintaining that the Prophet Muhammad had tethered there his mythical
steed, al-Buraq, in connection with his Night Journey to the Haram (and from there, to Heaven), the basis of its
holy status among Muslims.
38
CO 733/160/18, correspondence from Hassan Abul Sa’oud, Secretary to the General Muslim Conference to
the High Commissioner, 7 November 1928; and CO 733/160/17, correspondence from Hajj Amin to the High
Commissioner, 8 October 1928.
39
Mattar, ‘The Role of the Mufti’, p. 110.
40
See, for instance, Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, p. 118.
25
ERIK FREAS
in Cairo, Hajj Amin was first and foremost a man of religion.41 Likewise, since at
least the mid-nineteenth century, the Husaynis had tended to see themselves as
guardians of traditional socio-political values.42 At the same time, there would seem
little question that Hajj Amin was a committed nationalist. During the First World
War, he had been involved with various nationalist organisations, among them al-
Nadi al-‘Arabi, al-Muntada al-Adabi, and the Jerusalem branch of the Muslim-
Christian Association.43 On account of his nationalist activism, he had been forced
to flee Palestine in 1920 and go into exile after being sentenced to 10 years’
imprisonment by the British authorities for his supposed role in inciting a crowd at a
political demonstration. It was only later, in connection with his appointment as
Grand Mufti of Jerusalem (in recognition of the importance of the Husayni family,
and which, among other things, gave him charge over the Haram al-Sharif) that he
was pardoned.44 Shortly thereafter, he was made President of the Supreme Muslim
Council, which gave him authority over all of Palestine’s awqāf, a significant source
of both revenue and influence. Holding these two important positions, he would go
on to exert a great deal of political influence, particularly around issues of a more
definably religious nature. Emphasising the Islamic character of Palestine and the
nationalist movement then, while no doubt enhancing his political influence, likely
also reflected his understanding of the relationship between Arab nationalism and
Islam, and Palestine’s significance with respect to both.
Following the riots, Hajj Amin quickly reasserted his position as defender of the
Haram al-Sharif. One of his first actions was to invite Muslim witnesses from
countries other than Palestine to speak before the Wailing Wall Commission, which
had been sent under the auspices of the League of Nations at Britain’s request to
determine rights and claims in connection with the Wailing Wall.45 He also sought
to raise money from Muslim countries for the related Arab victims. In connection
with these activities, Hajj Amin began cultivating old contacts and establishing new
ones with Muslim representatives throughout the Islamic world, from Cairo to
India. More importantly, perhaps, was the impact his endeavours had in Palestine,
where his popularity reached new heights. As observed by a British officer in the
aftermath of the 1931 Islamic Conference, ‘leaders who fail to rouse the masses on
political issues may find no difficulty in arousing them by encouraging religious
susceptibilities, and in order to achieve their ends may either exaggerate any
religious issue or endeavour to convert a political grievance into a religious one’.46
At home, Hajj Amin exonerated those who had participated in the disturbances
as being ‘rightly guided’.47 According to Porath, Arabs involved in the rioting were
exclusively Muslim,48 and most indications are that whatever Arab involvement
41
Philip Mattar, The Mufti of Jerusalem, Al-Hajj Amin Al-Husayni and the Palestinian National Movement
(New York: Columbia University Press, 1988), p. 3.
42
Abu Manneh, ‘Jerusalem in the Tanzimat Period’, p. 40.
43
Mattar, The Mufti of Jerusalem, p. 13.
44
Concerning his appointment as Grand Mufti, see Uri M. Kupferschmidt, The Supreme Muslim Council: Islam
under the British Mandate for Palestine (Leiden and New York: E.J. Brill, 1987), p. 20.
45
H.A.R. Gibb, ‘The Islamic Congress at Jerusalem in December 1931’, in Arnold J. Toynbee (ed.), Survey of
International Affairs, 1934 (London: Humphrey Milford; Oxford University Press, 1935), p. 100; see also FO
371/14489, the Wailing Wall Commission’s final report, copy addressed to Henderson, 24 December 1930.
46
CO 733/195/4, extract from ‘Political Summary for the Month of February, 1931’, concerning ‘The Wailing
Wall Question’ (original in 87021/31).
47
Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, p. 45.
48
Yehoshua Porath, The Palestinian Arab National Movement: The Emergence, 1918–1929 (London: Frank
Cass and Company, 1977), Vol. I, p. 303.
26
there was in the disturbances was largely motivated by religious sensibilities.49 To

begin with, the riots mostly involved villagers,50 and by and large were a
spontaneous affair,51 one ignited by the perception among Palestine’s Muslims
that, as a community, they were literally under assault by the Jews (hence, for
instance, the rumours that a bomb had been thrown in the Haram killing hundreds
of Muslims, and that Jews were, with the complicity of the government, slaying
Muslims throughout Palestine).52 Correspondingly, most of the reported chants
and slogans shouted by those involved in the disturbances characterised the cause
of the Haram al-Sharif and the conflict with the Jews over the Wailing Wall as a
religious one.53 Finally, in the period leading up to the Wailing Wall disturbances,
ostensibly Islamic organisations such as the Society for the Protection of the
Masjid al-Aqsa, the Revival of the Palestine Muslim Society in Haifa, and the
various Young Men’s Muslim Associations (concerning which, more below)
played instrumental roles in shaping how the dispute over the Haram al-Sharif was
perceived—that is, as being primarily a matter of defending the faith.54 Notably,
during the actual disturbances, Arab involvement generally entailed as a first step
convening at the local mosque before setting off to wherever one was headed, and it
was through the local mosque that most Arabs in Palestine received information
regarding what was transpiring in Jerusalem (whether true or false).55
Given the nature of riots, it is of course impossible to state unequivocally that not a
single Christian was involved, and indeed, there is evidence that some may very well
have been swept up in the initial rioting in Jerusalem, inasmuch as Christian fatalities
were reported. Based on the police reports, however, the nature of these fatalities is
generally not clear, and it is difficult to determine whether they were killed by Jews,
Muslims, or (a very real possibility if they were among those rioting) the British police.
There are exceptions, however. For instance, one British police report from the
Northern District at the time of the disturbances notes that in the area outside Nablus a
party of Catholic priests and students were attacked with stones by Muslim peasants.56
It was also reported that Christians in Beersheba were ‘afraid of an attack from the
Moslems, as there were rumours that the Christians were helping the Government to
49
Certainly this was the perception of the Palestine Government. PREM 1/102, C.P. 108, ‘Palestine: High
Commissioner’s Views on Policy’, March 1930, p. 8. See also Command Paper Number 3530, pp. 61, 153 –155,
158. In many respects, Palestine’s Communist Party seemed to share a similar perspective. CO 733/175/4, ‘The
Bloody War in Palestine and the Working Class’, Special Issue of the Central Council of the Palestine Communist
Party, September 1929.
50
See, for instance, CO 733/175/4, ‘The Bloody War in Palestine’.
51
Command Paper Number 3530, pp. 74 –82.
52
Typical in this respect were reports appearing in Safad and Nablus that large numbers of Muslims had been
murdered by Jews in Jerusalem and Haifa. A telegram was actually sent by the town of Ramleh to the League of
Nations claiming that a ‘great slaughter is running being result of Balfour Declaration’. USNA, 59/8/353/4/867n.
404 Wailing Wall/280. See also Kolinsky, Law, Order and Riots, p. 49.
53
USNA, 59/8/353/4/867n. 404 Wailing Wall/280. See also Vincent Sheean, Personal History (Boston, MA:
Houghton Mifflin Company, 1969 [1934]), p. 361.
54
As reported by the Assistant Superintendent of Police in Nablus, during the six months leading up to the
disturbances, ‘it was noticeable that considerable efforts were being made [by the noted organisations] to remind,
and to keep reminded, all Moslems of their religion and its history [in connection with the dispute over the
Wailing Wall]’. USNA, 59/8/353/4/867n. 404 Wailing Wall/280.
55
USNA, 59/8/353/4/867n. 404 Wailing Wall/280. Something perhaps reflective of a more general trend such as
had evolved over the course of the Mandate, whereby nationalist demonstrations increasingly came to be
organised around mosques, often in conjunction with Friday prayers. Daphne Tsimhoni, ‘The Arab Christians and
the Palestinian Arab National Movement during the Formative Stage’, in Gabriel Ben-Dor (ed.), The Palestinians
and the Middle East Conflict: An International Conference held at the Institute of Middle Eastern Studies,
University of Haifa, April 1976 (Ramat Gan, Israel: Turtledove Publishing, 1978), p. 78.
56
USNA, 59/8/353/4/867n. 404 Wailing Wall/280.
27
ERIK FREAS
kill [Muslim] Arabs’.57 Whatever the case, the vast majority of the Arabs who took
part in the disturbances were almost certainly Muslim peasants, most of whom were
responding to rumours that the Jews had designs on the Haram al-Sharif; indeed, the
rioting was initiated by Muslim peasants departing from the Aqsa Mosque following
the Friday noon prayer.58 We might also consider the fact that those communities
hardest hit by the rioting—Hebron and Safad—had small to negligible Christian
populations.59 Certainly the vast majority of non-Jews killed or injured were Muslim.
According to initial police reports, of the 91 non-Jews reported killed, only four were
Christian; likewise, of the 241 non-Jews reported as wounded, only 33 were
Christian.60 It is also perhaps telling that in the aftermath of the disturbances, Christian
Arabs were often utilised as drivers by British officials investigating conditions in
Palestine, largely on the basis of their being considered relatively neutral with respect
to the conflict.61 Finally, it might be noted that not a single Christian was involved in
the resultant fines and punishment.62 Indeed, as far as Christian involvement in the
disturbances goes, in at least two cases Christian Arabs apparently played a significant
role in stemming the violence. The city of Acre was largely spared thanks to the actions
of the Christian Arab District Officer there,63 and likewise, a Christian Arab, part of a
government convoy sent to defend the Jewish settlements of Bir Tovia, was singled out
for commendation in its defence.64 To be sure, this did not stop the Jews from
criticising Palestine’s Christian Arabs, though largely it would seem for not having
taken up arms en masse against the Muslims.65
On balance, what seems clear is that the disturbances were triggered by the
perceived need to defend the Islamic holy sites against Jewish incursion, a fact that
greatly served to accentuate the religious character of the event. At the same time,
the incident was represented as a nationalist one. In the period leading up to the
disturbances, the cause of the Haram al-Sharif had been presented in part as an
‘Arab’ cause, and the three Arabs later executed by the British for their involvement
57
Ibid.
58
Ibid.; also Mattar, ‘The Role of the Mufti’, p. 114. Later accusations that Hajj Amin intentionally initiated the
riots stemmed from this fact, inasmuch as there were some who felt that he had not sufficiently attempted to
pacify the crowd. Ironically, Hajj Amin would later be criticised by many Muslims for having tried too hard to
pacify those attending the service, as being ‘unfaithful to the Muslim cause’. USNA, 59/8/353/84/867n. 404
Wailing Wall/280.
59
As evident, for instance, in the 1922 Census in Reports and General Abstracts of the Census of 1922.
60
Interestingly, in the police reports, ‘Christian’ often constituted a separate category from ‘Arab’, the latter
term seemingly being interchangeable with ‘Muslim’. Thus, when indicating the causalities for any given day, the
breakdown is sometimes ‘Jews/Muslims/Christians’ and at other times ‘Jews/Arabs/Christians’. The latter is the
breakdown used when giving total numbers. USNA, 59/8/353/84/867n. 404 Wailing Wall/280. Discrepancies
across different casualty tallies suggest that ‘Christians’ were not always counted as ‘Arabs’; in any case, among
the British there was a tendency to conflate ‘Arab’ with ‘Muslim’. See, for instance, CO 733/175/2, ‘Addendum to
Note on Disturbances in Palestine’, for use by British delegation to Geneva, where the tally is four Christians
killed, but only 10 wounded. See also Command Paper Number 1499, An Interim Report on the Civil
Administration of Palestine, during the Period 1 st July, 1920—30 th June, 1921, Presented to Parliament by
Command of His Majesty, August 1921, p. 4. Concerning the conflating of the terms ‘Arab’ and ‘Muslim’, see
Tsimhoni, ‘The British Mandate and the Arab Christians in Palestine’, pp. 169, 335.
61
Sheean, Personal History, pp. 376, 380.
62
Porath, The Emergence, p. 303.
63
F.H. Kisch, Palestine Diary (London: Victor Gollancz Ltd, 1938), p. 288. While such evidence is strongly
anecdotal and no doubt highly reflective of the circumstances pertaining to that city, his role might be contrasted
with that of a Muslim police officer in Hebron, who reportedly took part in the violence. Tom Segev, One
Palestine, Complete: Jews and Arabs under the British Mandate, trans. Haim Watzman (New York: Henry Holt
and Company, 1999), p. 323. See also Kisch, Palestine Diary, p. 266, concerning the fact that following the riots,
Jews bitterly attacked the police in connection with the violence in that city.
64
Kolinsky, Law, Order and Riots, p. 55.
65
Sheean, Personal History, p. 380.
28
in the riots were immediately upheld as martyrs to the nationalist cause. For
Christian Arabs, the disturbances were a source of concern. Such zealousness might
just as easily be directed against them. Thus, for example, Christians in mixed
neighbourhoods in Jerusalem had found it necessary to paint red crosses on their
doors during the rioting in order to ensure that their homes were spared.66 In fact,
they were. Nonetheless, reports that during the rioting Muslims had been chanting
‘Friday . . . death to the Jews; Saturday, death to the Christians . . . and Sunday,
death to the Government officials’ were no doubt disconcerting.67 The fact that
those found guilty of having taken part in the riots faced serious repercussions from
the administration was an additional inducement for Christian Arabs to distance
themselves from the incident after the fact.68
Some Christian Arabs, it seems, were inclined to disown any involvement in the
riots, particularly those associated with the Opposition. Typical in this respect
were the Christian nationalist leaders, Ya’qub Farraj and Mughannam Ilyas
Mughannam, who almost immediately after the disturbances made a public
expression in favour of moderation during a public encounter with high-ranking
Zionist figures.69 At the same time, it behoved Christian nationalists to at least
demonstrate some degree of support for their Muslim compatriots.70 While not
condoning the violence, the Christian Arab press tended to put the onus of blame
on the Jews.71 Additionally, they stressed the incident’s nationalist aspect. During
the early part of the Mandate, issues related to the Muslim holy sites had been
considered a strictly ‘Muslim affair’,72 and Christians had even taken issue with
attempts by Muslim leaders to emphasise their importance in connection with the
nationalist cause.73 As the Mandate wore on and Palestine’s Muslims became
more active in the nationalist movement, however, Christian Arabs began to
recognise the need to accommodate this decidedly Muslim concern. One article
appearing in the Christian press explained why Christians should care about the
Muslim holy sites on nationalistic grounds.74 It was pointed out that Islam was an
‘Arab’ religion, and since the Christians living in Palestine were Arabs, they had a
duty to respect Islam and preserve its holy places.75 Such a perception was
certainly in keeping with an Arab nationalist conception wherein Islam constituted
66
Kisch, Palestine Diary, pp. 272 –273. See also USNA, 59/8/353/4/867n. 404; and Tsimhoni, ‘The Arab
Christians and the Palestinian Arab National Movement’, p. 78.
67
Kisch, Palestine Diary, p. 273.
68
And in fact, as noted above, not a single Christian was fined or punished in connection with the riots. Porath,
The Emergence, p. 303.
69
Kisch, Palestine Diary, p. 314.
70
It seems that the lack of Christian involvement in the disturbances became a source of inter-communal
tension, something further exacerbated by the murder of a Christian Arab journalist in Haifa the following
summer, in connection with a conflict between local Muslims and Christians over ownership of a cemetery.
Porath, The Emergence, p. 303.
71
See Kisch, Palestine Diary, pp. 251, 339; also CO 733/175/2, ‘Addendum to Note on Disturbances in
Palestine’.
72
Al-Jami‘ah Al-‘Arabiyyah (15 November 1928), referring to an article that appeared in Al-Zuhur; also
Al-Karmil (14 January 1930).
73
Al-Karmil (14 January 1930). Though it is interesting to note that with respect to an earlier incident in 1911,
wherein it was believed that British archeologists had violated the Haram al-Sharif, Jerusalem’s Christian Arabs
had stood alongside their fellow Muslims in condemning those Ottoman authorities considered responsible. Louis
Fishman, ‘The 1911 Haram al-Sharif Incident: Palestinian Notables versus the Ottoman Administration’, Journal
of Palestine Studies, 34(4) (2005), p. 14. At the same time, it would appear that Jerusalem’s Christian
communities were motivated in part out of consideration that Muslim reaction might end up being at least partly
directed against them. Fishman, ‘The 1911 Haram al-Sharif Incident,’ p. 12.
74
Al-Karmil (14 January 1930). See also Al-Jami‘ah Al-‘Arabiyyah (15 November 1928).
75
Al-Karmil (14 January 1930).
29
ERIK FREAS
a significant part of a shared nationalist heritage, whether ‘Arab’ or ‘Palestinian’.

For most Muslims, however, Palestine’s Muslim holy sites were reflective of a
good deal more than a shared nationalist legacy; their significance was largely
understood within a religious context.
With respect to the Wailing Wall disturbances, Christians demonstrated their
support first and foremost at the organisational level, particularly through those
organisations that were neither Muslim nor Christian but were representative of
Palestine’s Arabs as a whole. For instance, on 26 October 1929, a few months after the
riots, a Palestine Women’s Congress, chaired by Madame Kazim Husayni (the wife
of the esteemed Musa Kazim al-Husayni, the uncle of Hajj Amin), was convened in
Jerusalem. In a show of solidarity, it was attended by over 200 Muslim and Christian
female delegates.76 In keeping with one of its resolutions, the Arab Women’s
Association of Jerusalem subsequently bought two plots of land in Hebron, which
were dedicated as a trust to benefit the families of the three men who were hanged.77
Additionally, many of the nationalist Muslim-Christian Associations submitted
letters protesting the findings of the Wailing Wall Commission.78 Political parties in
which Christians figured prominently also issued letters of protest. Typical in this
respect was a letter issued by the Liberal Party, among whose founders were ‘Isa al-
‘Isa, the Christian Orthodox proprietor of Filastin, and Hanna Asfur, a Christian
lawyer based in Haifa. Apparently drafted by the latter, the letter ran on at great
length—11 pages in total—and spared no superlatives in describing in very specific
terms the Haram al-Sharif’s Islamic importance.79 The same Asfur was apparently
also active as a legal advocate on behalf of those Arabs who stood accused of criminal
activity based on their involvement in the disturbances.80
Christian support with respect to the riots was also evident in Christian testimonies
verifying Muslim ownership of the Wailing Wall as an integral part of the Aqsa
Mosque.81 Indeed, the Supreme Muslim Council tried to derive as much capital as
possible from these supposedly unbiased testimonies, complaining in
a correspondence following the release of the Commission’s findings that ‘[t]he
Moslem side [had] procured unbiased witnesses, Palestinian Christians as well as
foreigners, including Priests, Monks and guides to prove that [Jewish claims to the
Wailing Wall were unfounded] . . . [but] the Commission [had] paid no heed to such
evidence although the majority of these witnesses were impartial non-Moslems,
Palestinians as well as foreigners’.82 No doubt the referenced testimonies were to a
large extent genuine. On the other hand, such testimonies were generally elicited,
and it is hard to imagine, given the circumstances, Christian Arabs actually declining
76
Mrs. Matiel E.T. Mogannam, The Arab Woman and the Palestine Problem (London: Herbert Joseph Limited,
1937), p. 70; also Steuart Erskine, Palestine of the Arabs (London: George G. Harrap and Company, Limited,
1935), pp. 180–181.
77
Mogannam, The Arab Woman, pp. 56–58. The same organisation later transmitted a telegram to the Colonial
Secretary protesting the findings of the Commission. The telegram was signed by both its Muslim President and
its Christian Secretary. See CO/733/195/5, telegram from the Arab Women’s Association to the Colonial
Secretary, 22 June 1931.
78
See for example, CO 733/195/7, letters of protest addressed to the High Commissioner from the
Muslim-Christian Associations of Nablus and Jaffa, 11 June and 4 July 1931, respectively.
79
CO 733/195/7, letter from the Liberal Party, signed by the ‘Standing Committee’, and apparently drafted by
Hanna Asfur, to the High Commissioner, 15 June 1931.
80
CO 733/175/3, ‘Memorandum of Conference with the Arab Executive’, held on 2 October 1929, attached to
correspondence from Chancellor to Passfield, 5 October 1929.
81
CO 733/195/7, letter from Hajj Amin to Wauchope, 11 October 1931; see also letter from the Liberal Party, 15
June 1931.
82
CO 733/195/7, correspondence from Hajj Amin to Wauchope, 11 October 1931; also Filastin (30 October 1929).
30
such an invitation, even if their personal views held to the contrary. This might
partially explain the Commission’s seemingly dismissive attitude regarding the
testimonies of the ‘“fathers” and “brothers” of various Christian churches’ in support
of Muslim claims.83 Palestine’s High Commissioner at the time, John Chancellor,
was perhaps more blunt when conveying to London his opinion that Christian
support around this issue was motivated, at least in part, by a ‘fear of Moslems’.84
Perhaps more significant than the actual riots with respect to Muslim–Christian
relations was the broader political shift following them, something not brought
about solely by their occurrence, but no doubt intensified by them. The national
movement was taking on an increasingly Islamic (and correspondingly, radical)
colour,85 something of which Hajj Amin was quick to take advantage. Within
a month of the riots, he had established a Central Relief Committee to provide for
the financial needs of the family members of those Arabs that had been injured or
arrested. Significantly, the Committee was established under his direct control,
outside the framework of the Arab Executive, the till then leading Palestinian
organisational nationalist body.86 In an effort to turn the disturbances into an
Islamic issue of regional significance, he began appealing to Muslim organisations
in other countries. Among these was the Muslim Indian Congress, which in an
act of solidarity, designated 16 May ‘Palestine Day’.87 The Arab Executive, at
this time dominated by the more moderate faction, also responded, convening
a countrywide meeting at the end of October. Its response, however, came across
as relatively tepid and uninspired. Hajj Amin had taken the initiative in responding
to the situation and, from that point on, a good deal of the activity of the Arab
Executive resembled more a feeble attempt at keeping pace than anything else.
The High Commissioner expressed the dilemma well when he noted that the chief
weakness of the Opposition lay ‘in the power of the mufti to raise some religious
cry, which in time of unrest might sweep the country and compel his present
opponents to follow his banner’.88
At the same time, Hajj Amin was operating under some very real constraints. To
begin with, his control of the Supreme Muslim Council was not absolute, as
evidenced by the election of an Opposition candidate to its board in October 1930,
following the death of one of its members.89 Additionally, moderation had not yet
fallen completely out of favour. A fair portion of the Palestinian Arab leadership
83
FO 371/14489, The Wailing Wall Commission’s final report, copy addressed to Henderson, 24 December 1930.
84
Along with their ‘dislike of Jews’. CO 733/175/4, High Commissioner’s Telegram No. 204 of September 19,
in Cabinet Memorandum ‘Situation in Palestine’, C.P. 343 (29), November 1929.
85
In asserting a connection between the Palestinian national movement’s radicalisation and its ‘Islamisation’, I
anticipate developments over the decade following the World Islamic Conference. Particularly illustrative in this
respect is the Arab Revolt of 1936–1939, which, in addition to being a strong manifestation of the movement’s
radicalisation, was, by all accounts, a predominantly Muslim affair; most of those militantly active were Muslim,
were inspired by and modelled themselves after such militant religious reformers as Shaykh ‘Izz al-Din Qassam,
and, like him, had come to see Islamic reform as a necessary precondition to national liberation (hence their being
designated as ‘Qassimites’). See, for instance, ZA, S/25, 4550, Ha-Cohen and Sasson to Shertok, reporting on talk
with al-Hajj Tahir Qaraman, 21 August 1938; also Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, pp. 109, 183; Ted
Swedenburg, ‘The Role of the Palestinian Peasantry in the Great Revolt (1936–1939)’, in E. Burke III and
I. Lapidus (eds), Islam, Politics and Social Movements (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1988),
pp. 191–192; and Nels Johnson, Islam and the Politics of Meaning in Palestinian Nationalism (London: Kegan
Paul International, 1982), p. 48.
86
87
Ibid., p. 38; also Kolinsky, Law, Order and Riots, p. 67.
88
See FO 371/16009, secret correspondence from Wauchope to Cunliffe-Lister, 30 January 1932; also Porath,
From Riots to Rebellion, p. 49; and Kupferschmidt, The Supreme Muslim Council, p. 45.
89
31
ERIK FREAS
was still hopeful of arriving at some kind of equitable compromise with the British
regarding Zionism.90 Finally, there was the fact that Hajj Amin’s positions of
President of the Supreme Muslim Council and Grand Mufti were effectively
government posts. This last factor was a particularly powerful constraint, given
that any attempt to directly challenge the Opposition for the leadership of
Palestine’s Arabs would have meant the unequivocal adoption of a more radical
stance (as a counterpoint to their more moderate one), and would thus have
required him to openly confront the Palestine government. For the time being, Hajj
Amin and the Opposition-dominated Arab Executive made a show of unity.
Neither was in a position to dominate the Palestinian Arab leadership.
Nonetheless, the latter was clearly becoming weaker.91 Moreover, it was fast
splintering. In the aftermath of the Wailing Wall riots, many of the members of the
Opposition had begun forming their own parties, a process that would accelerate
rapidly over the coming years. Most of these parties took a moderate position with
respect to the issues of the day, and in some cases even demonstrated a willingness
to compromise with the Zionists and the British administration.92 Unable to form a
united front on account of personal divisions, the Opposition would provide little
effective opposition to Hajj Amin al-Husayni.93
Christians would continue to affiliate with the Opposition through these newly
formed political parties. Typical in this respect was the National Defence Party,
formed in December 1934, which stressed a platform of cooperation with the
government. It enjoyed strong support among Christians, who were well
represented on its Central Committee of which they constituted three out of 12
members.94 Most Christians in fact continued to favour moderation, as it was
considered that the adoption of a more radical platform—particularly one under
the leadership of Hajj Amin al-Husayni—would most likely result in further
religious agitation.95 At the same time, many Christians could see which way the
wind was blowing and recognised what seemed a certain inevitability with respect
to the radicalisation of the nationalist movement, likewise its Islamisation.
As noted above, early on in the Mandate, Christians had been disproportionately
active in the Palestinian nationalist movement relative to their actual numbers. By the
time of the World Islamic Conference, however, much had changed. Organisations
such as the Young Men’s Muslim Associations (YMMAs), ostensibly formed as
religious, social and cultural organisations for Muslim youth beginning in 1927,96
had come to play a more prominent role in the movement, initially around the issue of
the Palestine government’s non-employment of Muslims,97 though, as noted above,
the cause of the Haram al-Sharif also had the effect of further galvanising the
90
See Ibid., pp. 22–23.
91
The Arab Executive was also running into financial difficulties, and at one point even had to borrow money
from the aforementioned Central Relief Committee, a body largely under Hajj Amin’s control. See Porath, From
Riots to Rebellion, p. 136; also Kolinsky, Law, Order and Riots, pp. 165–166.
92
See, for instance, Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, pp. 50–52.
93
See, for instance, CO 733/195/7, correspondence from the High Commissioner’s office to Cunliffe-Lister, 19
November 1931.
94
Porath, From Riots to Rebellions, p. 64.
95
See, for instance, al-Karmil (10 June 1928); also Mir’at Al-Sharq (29 September 1933; 14 March 1934).
96
Kamel Mahmoud Khleh, Filastin w’al-Intidab al-Britani, 1922–1939 (Beruit: Al-Mansha Al-A’ma, 1982),
p. 438; and Porath, The Emergence, pp. 301 –330.
97
See, for instance, Al-Jami‘ah Al-‘Arabiyyah (16 August 1928; 12 July 1932); Mir’at Al-Sharq (14 June 1924;
10 October 1925); and Al-Ittihad Al-‘Arabi (27 June 1925). See also Tsimhoni, ‘The British Mandate and the
Arab Christians in Palestine’, p. 274. Related to this was the perception that the British generally favoured
Christians for administrative posts. Porath, The Emergence, p. 301.
32
YMMAs politically.98 Those affiliating with the YMMAs tended to favour the salafı̄
model of Arab nationalism, which emphasised the relationship between Arab identity
and Islam, as discussed above. Many associated with religious reformers, individuals
such as Sheikh ‘Izz al-Din al-Qassam, who preached reform of the Islamic faith as a
precursor to national liberation.99 For young Muslims disenchanted with the
traditional leadership, such figures would have an increasing appeal.
Related to this, the nationalist movement would increasingly become directed at
the British (as opposed to being almost solely about Zionism). This did not bode
well for Christian Arabs, often seen as constituting a privileged group with respect
to administrative positions (as noted) and thus overly sympathetic towards the
British. Such concerns became particularly evident the year prior to the Wailing
Wall riots, in connection with a Christian missionary conference convened in
Jerusalem in April 1928, and made up largely of Western Protestant missionaries.
Many Muslims accused Palestinian Christian Arabs of being supportive of Western
Christian missionaries,100 and Christians increasingly found themselves on the
defensive, stressing the need for unity, but also affirming the sincerity of their
commitment to the cause.101 Tellingly, shortly after the Missionary Conference,
tensions between Muslims and Christians had become sufficiently exacerbated that
Christians threatened to boycott the Seventh Palestinian Nationalist Congress.102
That particular crisis was eventually resolved, but an incident at the end of 1930,
wherein a Christian Arab journalist was killed in Haifa in connection with a dispute
between local Muslims and Christians over a cemetery, was a clear indicator that
significant tension existed between the two communities.103 By the time of the
Arab Revolt of 1936 –1939, Christian Arabs had seen their role greatly diminished
with respect to the nationalist movement.104
As of the World Islamic Conference, many Christians still hoped to channel
recent developments in a manner that would not see them completely marginalised.
One way of doing this was to acknowledge Palestine’s Islamic significance, but as
something apart from the Palestinian nationalist movement, the idea being to
undermine Hajj Amin al-Husayni’s ability to utilise the Haram al-Sharif as a means
98
USNA, 59/8/353/4/867n. 404. In particular, see the ‘General Observations’ of the Assistant Superintendent of
Police in Nablus.
99
S. Abdullah Schleifer, ‘The Life and Thought of ‘Izz-id-Din al-Qassam’, The Islamic Quarterly, 22(2) (1979),
p. 71; Johnson, Islam and the Politics of Meaning, pp. 31, 41; Lesch, Arab Politics in Palestine, 1917– 1939: The
Frustration of a National Movement (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1979), p. 108; Swedenburg, ‘The Role
of the Palestinian Peasantry’, p. 189; and Porath, Riots and Rebellion, p. 136.
100
See, for instance, Filastin (24 April 1928); Al-Jami‘ah Al-‘Arabiyyah (8 and 24 May 1928); and Palestine
Bulletin (19 April and 8 May 1928).
101
See, for instance, The Palestine Bulletin (1 and 16 October 1930), the latter reprinted from Mir‘at Al-Sharq;
Al-Karmil (6 and 16 August 1930); also Tsimhoni, ‘The Arab Christians and the Palestinian Arab National
Movement’, p. 76.
102
The Palestine Bulletin (30 May 1928), from an article appearing in Filastin; Mir‘at Al-Sharq (24 May and 7
June 1928); Al-Karmil (22 April and 30 May 1928); and Al-Jami‘ah Al-‘Arabiyyah (5 March 1928).
103
The Palestine Bulletin (14, 15, 16, 17 and 19 September 1931); Al-Karmil (4 October 1931).
104
See, for instance, Yehoshua Porath, The Palestinian Arab National Movement: From Riots to Rebellion,
1929– 1939 (London: Frank Cass and Company, 1977), Vol. II, p. 269. One could maintain that this constituted
something of a temporary setback, as Christians would certainly come to play a prominent political role in various
Arab countries with the resurgence of secular Arab nationalism—that is, during the 1950s and 1960s, the heyday
of pan-Arabism. This would be as true in Palestine (for example, George Habash, the Christian nationalist leader
of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine) as it was regionally (for example, Michel ‘Aflaq, the
ideological founder of Ba‘athism). Nonetheless, during the first half of the century, it was not clear, in Palestine or
in the Middle East as a whole, what form Arab nationalist identity would take or, likewise, what would constitute
the relationship between Arab identity and Islam. It seems fair to say that it is a relationship that is yet evolving.
33
ERIK FREAS
of bringing the nationalist movement under his control. The aforementioned letter
from the Liberal Party, for instance, was particularly critical of the fact that
the persons who represented the Moslems of the world before [the Wailing Wall
Commission], appeared on behalf of the Supreme Moslem Council of Palestine only
[which] did not hold any powers of representation from the Moslem Kings and Princes and
consequently should not have been regarded by the Commission to have represented the
whole of the Moslem world.105
Christians also maintained that, analogous to Palestine’s worldwide Islamic
significance was its worldwide Christian significance.106 Thus, for instance, many
called for an Islamic –Catholic alliance against Zionism. In one lengthy editorial,
the Christian newspaper Al-Karmil called on Hajj Amin al-Husayni to seek out an
alliance with the Vatican.107 The belief that such an alliance was possible was not
entirely without basis, as the Vatican had often expressed its concern about
Zionism.108 Additionally, it had shown sympathy regarding Muslim interests in
Palestine, expressing on a number of occasions a preference that Palestine should
remain under Muslim control rather than fall into Jewish hands.109 In some cases,
the proposed alliance was set out as one directed against Zionism and
Protestantism (thus touching on the strong hostility many Muslims felt towards
missionary activity).110 In other cases, Protestant Britain was called upon to wake
up and reject Zionism.111
Shortly after the Wailing Wall riots, Hajj Amin approached one of the members
of the Muslim Indian Congress, Shawkat ‘Ali, about the possibility of establishing
a worldwide Muslim organisation in defence of Palestine and its Islamic holy
places. Shawkat ‘Ali, as a leading member (and later president) of the Indian
Muslim Khalifat Committee—an organisation which sought the restoration of the
caliphate in the Muslim World112—was quite willing to cooperate in such an
endeavour.113 His organisation sought to promote pan-Islamism, and had as early
as 1929 begun promoting the idea of creating a ‘Supreme Islamic Council’ in
Jerusalem composed of representatives from the various Muslim countries.114 For
‘Ali, the Conference would serve as a venue for promoting pan-Islamism and
revitalising the caliphate; for Hajj Amin, it would serve as a means of drawing
attention to the threat posed by Zionism to Jerusalem’s Muslim holy sites.
105
CO 733/195/7, letter from the Liberal Party, signed by the ‘Standing Committee’, Hanna Asfur, 15 June 1931.
106
Al-Karmil (3 October 1929).
107
Al-Karmil (26 October 1929); see also Al-Karmil (11 March 1928).
108
Sergio I. Minerbi, The Vatican and Zionism: Conflict in the Holy Land 1895–1925 (New York and Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1990), p. 21.
109
Ibid.
110
Al-Karmil (26 October 1929).
111
Al-Karmil (21 September 1929); Filastin (18 June 1936).
112
See Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim Congress of 1931’, p. 130.
113
Concerning the long-standing relationship between the Supreme Muslim Council and the Indian Muslim
Khalifat Committee, see CO 733/49, dispatch from Samuel to the Colonial Office, 23 September 1923; also a
telegram sent from Samuel to the Colonial Secretary, 26 September 1923, and an ‘urgent memo’ to Downing
Street from the Under Secretary of State for the India Office, 1 October 1923. See also Kupferschmidt, ‘The
General Muslim Congress of 1931’, pp. 128–129.
114
FO 371/16009, police report on the 1931 Islamic Conference, attached to correspondence from Wauchope to
Cunliffe-Lister, 24 December 1931; also FO 371/15332, ‘Note of Interview of Shawkat Ali, 10 February 1931’,
enclosure to confidential dispatch, 14 February 1931.
34
Moderation in Trouble
Beginning in April 1930, special one-judge courts established in Palestine by the
British began pronouncing judgement on those charged in relation to the Wailing
Wall riots. Of the 28 sentenced to death, 26 were Arab, all of them Muslim.115 In
the end, three Arabs were hanged, on 17 June 1930.116 A general strike was called
for by the Arab Executive, to be held two days prior as a gesture of protest.117 The
Arab Executive’s leadership of the nationalist movement was being challenged by
more radical elements,118 and it was finding itself increasingly under pressure to
adopt a more confrontational stance towards the government.119 At the same time,
the traditional elite was hesitant to take any action that might jeopardise its own
commercial interests. Correspondingly, it found itself incapable of adopting more
extremist tactics, even on a modest scale.
A brief respite for moderation came with the issuance of the Passfield White
Paper120 on 21 October 1930. Prepared by the British Colonial Office and having
been submitted to Parliament by the government of Prime Minster Ramsay
MacDonald only the previous day, it called for a legislative council along the
lines proposed in 1922, as well as a stronger line against Jewish immigration and
Jewish land purchases. The Passfield White Paper was received reasonably well
by Palestine’s Arab population, something which served to strengthen the
position of the more moderate Opposition, which, unlike the first time around,
also came out in favour of the proposed legislative council.121 The way they saw
it, while not explicitly abrogating the Balfour Declaration, its terms held the
promise of ensuring Zionism’s failure. Hajj Amin and his faction were less
sanguine and, particularly as expressed in Al-Jami‘ah Al-‘Arabiyyah, were
extremely critical of the White Paper. At the same time, in deference to the fact
that overall Arab opinion was favourable (if not enthusiastically so), they stopped
short of rejecting it out of hand.122 Jewish reaction, by contrast, was bitter and
furious. They saw the White Paper as a complete betrayal of the Balfour
Declaration, and the British government was soon flooded with letters of protest
from Jewish organisations from around the world.123 In response, on 13 February
1931, Prime Minister MacDonald issued his famous letter to Chaim Weizmann
‘reinterpreting’ the principles of the White Paper in such a way as to nullify any
impact they might actually have on the Zionist enterprise.124 This spelled the
beginning of the end for moderation.125 The ‘black letter’, as it was dubbed, lent
115
116
See FO 371/14489, telegram from the High Commissioner to the Colonial Secretary, 18 June 1930.
117
FO 371/14489, reference to telegram No. 178 in Colonial Office internal memorandum, 16 June 1930.
118
Notable in this respect were the aforementioned YMMAs, the Arab Boy Scouts, and various youth
clubs—essentially those organisations representative of Palestine’s (predominantly Muslim) youth, many of
whom were becoming impatient with the traditional elite and their moderate politics. This youthful element
would become increasingly prominent politically over the course of the 1930s, and would eventually directly
challenge the traditional leadership’s control of the movement. Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, pp. 122–123.
119
See, for instance, CO 733/204/2, correspondence entitled ‘Arab Incitement’, circa mid-1931.
120
Named after the Colonial Secretary at the time, Lord Passfield.
121
122
See, for instance, CO 733/182/8, telegram from Wauchope to Lord Passfield, 4 November 1930. For the overall
Arab press reaction, see Ibid., ‘Palestine Arabic Press Summary No. 57 for the week ending 25th October 1930’.
123
See Walter Laqueur, A History of Zionism (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1972), p. 492.
124
Concerning the fact that the letter represented official policy as such, see CO 733/197/1D, in particular,
‘Extract from the Official Report of 12th February 1931’; also Laqueur, A History of Zionism, p. 493.
125
See, for instance, ISA 987/56- , letter from Musa Kazim al-Husayni, President of the Arab Executive, to the
High Commissioner, 16 February 1931.
35
ERIK FREAS
weight to those arguing for the adoption of a more militant stance against the
British, and discredited the Arab Executive’s efforts at a negotiated
settlement.126
Shortly after the release of the MacDonald Letter, the Arab Executive published a
‘Declaration of the Noble Arab Nation’. In it, they expressed their utter
disillusionment with the British government and their conviction that further
cooperation with them was useless. Two of the three signatories to the letter were
the Christian nationalists Ya’qub Farraj and Mughannam Ilyas Mughannam.127 On
2 March, a meeting was convened over how best to respond to the MacDonald
Letter. Some members called for a policy of civil disobedience and non-cooperation
with the government. Others suggested that reaction be limited to a political and
economic boycott of the Jews.128 Christians figured prominently among the latter,
the most notable among them being ‘Isa al-‘Isa, the proprietor of the newspaper
Filastin. In the end, neither proposal was carried out. Once again, the Arab
Executive had proven incapable of taking decisive action.
It was around this time that the idea of holding a World Islamic Conference in
Jerusalem began to take on definite shape. Earlier, Hajj Amin had made contact with
Shawkat ‘Ali, who in January had become the head of the Indian Muslim Khalifat
Committee. After some discussion, it was agreed that the two would act as co-
sponsors for the proposed conference.129 In the meantime, the Wailing Wall
Commission released its report on the Wailing Wall disturbances.130 The
Commission’s report proposed a compromise, with Muslim ownership of the
Wailing Wall being retained, but the right of Jews to worship there guaranteed.131
The Zionists accepted the Commission’s findings; the Palestinian Arabs, following
the lead of Hajj Amin, did not. In spite of the opposition expressed by the Arabs, the
Palestine government chose to uphold the findings of the Commission. One last
attempt at presenting a unified front was initiated by the Arab Executive. Typical of
their more moderate approach, they responded by initiating a writing campaign
appealing to Arab leaders outside of Palestine to intervene on their behalf. Not
surprisingly, many found the Arab Executive’s response wanting, and were
beginning to lose patience with its continued refusal to adopt a more hard-line
position. Towards the end of 1931, the Arab Executive’s situation would deteriorate
further. A report prepared by the Director of Development, Lewis French, in
connection with a government-sponsored development plan, indicated among other
things that a number of prominent members of the Arab Executive had been
involved in land transactions with Jews. While members of the Supreme Muslim
Council were also indicted, the report nevertheless proved more damaging to the
Arab Executive on account of its moderate politics.132
126
See Lesch, Arab Politics in Palestine, p. 104.
127
The third signatory was ‘Awni ‘Abd al-Hadi. ISA 986/28- , Salim Salamah, Secretary of the Ramallah MCA
to the AE, on the Legislative Council.
128
See Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, pp. 34–35.
129
See Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim Congress of 1931’, p. 130; and R.M. Coury, ‘Egyptians in
Jerusalem: Their Role in the General Islamic Conference of 1931’, Muslim World, 82(i–ii) (1992), p. 37.
130
CO 733/195/5, telegram from the High Commissioner to the Colonial Secretary, 16 June 1931.
131
Kolinsky, Law, Order and Riots, p. 15.
132
Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, pp. 38– 40. Overall, there existed a perception that the Opposition had, in a
number of ways, compromised itself with respect to the nationalist movement. See, for instance, Mattar, ‘The
Role of the Mufti’, p. 110.
36
The World Islamic Conference

At the end of July 1931, Hajj Amin began sending out official invitations for the
World Islamic Conference scheduled for that fall in Jerusalem.133 Twice deferred,
the starting date was eventually set for 7 December, the anniversary of the Night
Journey of the Prophet to Jerusalem. While the financial burden of the Conference
would, for the most part, be borne by Shawkat ‘Ali and his organisation, the Indian
Muslim Khalifat Committee, its organisation was largely left in the hands of Hajj
Amin. With Hajj Amin serving as president of the preparatory council, the
Conference quickly evolved into his own personal project.
The Conference opened with 130 delegates in attendance, representative of almost
all the Muslim countries, the only notable exceptions being Saudi Arabia and
Turkey.134 The latter was particularly sensitive to the question of revitalising the
caliphate. The caliphate, of course, had come to an end with the demise of the
Ottoman Empire and the establishment of the Turkish Republic. It is worth noting
that the caliphate, here conceived as a future pan-Arab political institution, had been,
even till the end, an Islamic institution, one moreover denoting leadership over the
entire worldwide Muslim community (that is, inclusive of non-Arab Muslims). It is
perhaps not surprising then that the idea of revitalising the caliphate within an Arab
nationalist context originated among those Arab nationalists, predominantly Muslim,
who directly linked Arab nationalism with Islam, along the lines discussed above.
The most viable candidate for caliph was the deposed Ottoman caliph
‘Abdulmecid,135 the reinstatement of whom was considered problematic by the
recently secularised Turkish state. Interestingly, the Turkish Minister of Justice
characterised the caliphate as ‘a kind of Muslim imperialism’ that had until then
only ‘promoted hatred amongst peoples’.136 The Turkish government was also
concerned about the overall political character of the Conference, which it viewed
as running contrary to the principles upon which the newly established Turkish
Republic was founded, principles that were decidedly secular.137 In an official
statement issued by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, it was noted that Turkey was
‘opposed to any internal or external policy which makes use of religion as a
political instrument’.138 Finally, scepticism was expressed concerning Hajj
Amin’s motives. The aforementioned Turkish Minister of Justice noted that ‘the
Mufti of Jerusalem, who today was organising the “Congress of the Caliphate” had
yesterday worked against Turkey, for the union of the Arabs, not that of
the Muslims’.139
Turkey was not the only country concerned about the issue of the caliphate or
the Conference’s overall political character, and Hajj Amin found it necessary
prior to the Conference’s commencement to provide assurances to several of
the Arab countries. Saudi Arabia and Egypt proved the most difficult in this
133
Gibb, ‘The Islamic Congress at Jerusalem’, p. 101, from Statement by the Mufti, published in The Times, 27
November 1931.
134
For a breakdown of the numbers attending by country, see Thomas Mayer, ‘Egypt and the General Islamic
Conference in Jerusalem in 1931’, Middle Eastern Studies, 18(3) (July 1982), p. 316.
135
See chapter 11, ‘In Defense of Jerusalem’, in Martin Kramer, Islam Assembled (New York: Columbia
University Press, 1986).
136
Oriente Moderno (December 1931), p. 579, from Türkische Post (24 November 1931).
137
Ibid., pp. 579–580.
138
Ibid. p. 580. See also Gibb, ‘The Islamic Congress at Jerusalem’, p. 102.
139
Oriente Moderno (December 1931), p. 579, from Türkische Post (24 November 1931). A reference to Hajj
Amin’s involvement in the Arab Revolt against the Ottoman Empire during the First World War.
37
ERIK FREAS
respect. The former, as noted, ended up not sending any representative at all to
the Conference.140 The latter did, but only after being paid a personal visit by Hajj
Amin. Egyptian reticence reflected in large part the fact that Egypt’s King Fuad
had pretensions of his own to the caliphate.141 Al-Azhar University in Cairo took
the official government position, and denounced any attempt to raise the caliphate
question at the upcoming Conference,142 though likely it was more concerned with
the proposal to establish an Islamic university in Jerusalem, one which might
conceivably threaten its own status as the most prestigious university in the
Islamic world.143 Hajj Amin assured King Fuad and official Egyptian circles that
the Conference would not promote the caliphate, and that the planned Islamic
university did not seek to challenge the pre-eminence of Al-Azhar.144
The British were equally reluctant to see the subject of the caliphate taken up at
the Conference, and it was indicated that under no circumstances would the former
Ottoman caliph, ‘Abdulmecid, be permitted to enter Palestine.145 The British were
concerned, in fact, that any political issue should be taken up, and prior to the
Conference the High Commissioner, Sir Arthur Wauchope, met with Hajj Amin
and received assurances that there would be no discussion of political questions,
either concerning the caliphate or Italian policy in Libya,146 and that the
Conference would be strictly religious in nature.147 As it turned out, Hajj Amin
made no effort to inform any of the participants that such assurances had been
given. In fact, he barely acknowledged that such discussions had even taken place.
As a result, political questions were very much on the agenda, not only concerning
Palestine, but with respect to the entire region.148 The British nonetheless found it
difficult to bring themselves to interfere in what was, in principle at least, a
religious affair, for fear of rousing Muslim sensibilities.149
Almost immediately after the Conference had commenced, it was apparent that
the two men responsible for it, Hajj Amin and Shawkat ‘Ali, had very different
agendas. The former wanted to focus strictly on Palestinian issues, issues not
coincidentally that would strengthen his own political position within Palestine.
These included issues related to the Wailing Wall and the promotion of an Islamic
university in Jerusalem. Shawkat ‘Ali, on the other hand, was more concerned with
140
Oriente Moderno (December 1931), p. 580, from Al-Ahram (23 November 1931). See also Kramer, Islam
Assembled, p. 129.
141
See Mayer, ‘Egypt and the General Islamic Conference’, p. 312.
142
Oriente Moderno (November 1931), p. 527, from Al-Ahram (3 November 1931). See also Mayer, ‘Egypt and
the General Islamic Conference’, p. 313.
143
Mayer, ‘Egypt and the General Islamic Conference’, p. 313; also Kolinsky, Law, Order and Riots, p. 163.
Shawkat ‘Ali, in elaborating his programme for the restoration of the caliphate, called for the establishment of an
Islamic university in Jerusalem, as in his opinion Al-Azhar had lost its religious zeal. See Kupferschmidt, ‘The
General Muslim Congress of 1931’, p. 130.
144
Oriente Moderno (November 1931), p. 529, from Al-Ahram (6 November 1931). See also Kramer, Islam
Assembled, p. 128.
145
See FO 371/15283, exchange between the Foreign Office and the High Commissioner on the question of
admitting the ex-caliph into Palestine, 23 and 20 November 1931.
146
Concerning the Italians in Libya, see FO 371/15282, correspondence from Rendel to Williams, 17 November
1931; also FO 371/15282 correspondence from the Italian ambassador to the British Foreign Office, 17 November
1931.
147
Gibb, ‘The Islamic Congress at Jerusalem’, p. 103; also Oriente Moderno (December 1931), p. 579, from
Al-Ahram (29 November 1931).
148
Kramer, Islam Assembled, pp. 134–135. See also Gibb, ‘The Islamic Congress at Jerusalem’, p. 105, footnote
1, from Oriente Moderno (January 1932), p. 42.
149
Kramer, Islam Assembled, pp. 126, 135. See also CO 732/47/6, Colonial Office internal memorandum,
8 September 1931.
38
reviving the Islamic caliphate as a basis for pan-Islamic solidarity. Both spoke the
language of pan-Islamism; the difference was that, whereas the former saw in pan-
Islamism a utility, both in drawing attention to the Palestinian struggle and in
enhancing his own political status, the latter saw it as an end in itself. In any case,
that the Conference was first and foremost an ‘Islamic’ affair—whatever the
nationalist aspect of any particular issue raised—was something recognised from
the start. Thus Alfred Nielsen, writing about the Conference a year later in the
journal Moslem World, defined it as a ‘modern expression of pan-Islamism’.150 In
Egypt, press supportive of the Islamic Conference characterised it as an Islamic
rather than a nationalistic event,151 and Gibb, writing about the same time, noted
that he saw in the Conference evidence of a developing ‘organisational aptitude’ in
Islam.152 This may seem a case of overstating the obvious, but given that most of the
issues raised at the Conference could very easily have been defined in nationalistic
terms, it is a point worth emphasising.
The Conference appealed to the Muslim world for unity. Not a single speaker failed
to stress the importance of this at the inauguration ceremonies.153 Muhammad Rashid
Rida called for the unification of the different schools of law in Islam,154 and the
Conference adopted a recommendation that new branches of the YMMAs be
established throughout the Muslim world to act as the vanguard of a ‘cultural army’.155
Most significant with respect to the pan-Islamic character of the Conference was the
proposed Aqsa Mosque University. As one of the Iranian representatives noted, the
university was to be called ‘Muslim’ and not ‘Arab’ and therefore ‘any national
distinction in connection with it should be avoided’.156 Shawkat ‘Ali, in arguing for
the study of languages other than Arabic, also emphasised its Islamic character. It was
to be a university for all Muslims, not just those from the Arab countries.157
At the same time, the Conference was very much about Palestine. Most importantly,
it defined the Palestinian cause as an Islamic one. In the days leading up to the
Conference, Hajj Amin al-Husayni claimed that the Zionists sought through
propaganda to cause the Conference to fail in order to ‘separate the Palestinian question
from Muslim questions and to convince the West that the Palestinians are alone in
defending their holy sites, when in fact they are supported by Islam and the Arabs’.158
The linking of the Palestinian cause with Islam was further evident in the choice of the
opening day for the Conference—the 27th of Rajab, commemorating the Night Journey
of the Prophet, when he ascended to heaven from the Haram al-Sharif. In his speech
opening the Conference, Hajj Amin noted that ‘it was in view of the religious position
of Palestine and of the Mosque of Omar [that] the Congress was arranged’.159 One
British official commented that ‘the attention of the Congress was directed almost
150
Alfred Nielsen, ‘The International Islamic Conference at Jerusalem’, Moslem World, 22 (1932), p. 341.
Nielsen’s article appeared almost immediately after the Conference and in many respects resembles a journalistic
account of the event. Much of the information provided was, in fact, taken from the newspaper Filastin.
151
Mayer, ‘Egypt and the General Islamic Conference’, p. 319.
152
Kramer, Islam Assembled, p. 135.
153
Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim Congress of 1931’, p. 148.
154
Al-Jami‘ah Al-‘Arabiyyah (7, 10, 14 and 16 December 1931); see also Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim
Congress of 1931’, p. 14.
155
FO 371/16009, police report on the 1931 Islamic Conference, 24 December 1931; also Al-Jami‘ah
Al-‘Arabiyyah (11 December 1931).
156
Oriente Moderno (January 1932), p. 30, from Filastin (6–18 December 1931).
157
Ibid.
158
Oriente Moderno (November 1931), p. 529, from Al-Ahram (6 November 1931).
159
FO 371/16009, police report on the 1931 Islamic Conference, 24 December 1931.
39
ERIK FREAS
exclusively to Moslem affairs in Palestine’,160 but indeed, it might be said that Palestine
had itself become a Muslim affair. During the Conference, the Mufti emphasised with
great regularity the need of the Muslim world to unite behind the Palestinian cause—
specifically, the need to preserve the Arab-Islamic character of Palestine.161
The focus of the Conference on the Palestinian cause—moreover its
characterisation as an Islamic cause—was clear even to outsiders. Thus, Nielsen
in his account noted that ‘[t]he third international Islamic conference owed its origin
to the Zionist movement . . . if all Moslems would take up the case as their own and
protest, Great Britain might choose a Palestinian policy that would be less an
irritation to Moslems in India, Egypt and Mesopotamia’.162 The Muslim holy sites in
Jerusalem were the subject of what was arguably the most important of the eight sub-
committees of the Conference.163 As if to emphasise its regional significance, the
chairman was not even a Palestinian, but rather the former Egyptian Minister of
Waqfs, Muhammad ‘Ali Pasha.164 It was in connection with the holy sites that the
uniquely Palestinian problem of Zionism was given an Islamic context, namely that it
posed a threat to the Islamic integrity of the third holiest city in Islam. In his opening
speech, Hajj Amin noted that in ‘comparison to other Islamic territories, Palestine,
this Holy Land which called for the Congress . . . suffered most by reason of the
establishment of the Jewish National Home. On this account and in view of the
religious position of Palestine and of the Mosque of Omar, the Congress was
arranged’.165 As one participant at the Conference put it, had it not been for the
Mandate and, by extension, Britain’s support for Zionism, the Jews would never have
even dared to try to appropriate the Wailing Wall. The general feeling expressed at
the Conference, moreover, was that the Jews would not stop there. Eventually they
would seek to appropriate the entire complex of the Haram al-Sharif.166
The Islam–Palestine connection was further emphasised by the decision to have the
names of rulers and notables who contributed funds for the implementation of congress
resolutions placed on special boards, to be hung inside the Aqsa Mosque,167 as well as
in the proposed university, which sought to promote Jerusalem as a regional centre of
Islamic learning while simultaneously countering the Hebrew University in Jerusalem,
thus addressing the Zionist challenge.168 In this sense, the proposed university was
strongly symbolic of the link forged at the Conference between pan-Islamism and the
Palestinian cause. Finally, it was evidenced in the decision taken that future
conferences should be held in Jerusalem on a permanent basis. As noted by Rashid
Rida, the Conference ‘had been convened specifically in defence of Palestine, and so
should always be held in Jerusalem’.169 That the cause of Palestine was now an Islamic
one was clearly evident. As one British official noted, ‘[the] aim [of the Conference
160
FO 371/16009, handwritten secret cover memorandum from the Colonial Office (No. 98036/32), dated 12
February 1932, concerning the police report on the Islamic Conference.
161
Oriente Moderno (January 1932), p. 25, from Filastin (7 December 1931). See also Al-Jami‘ah Al-‘Arabiyyah
(12 June 1931) and Al-Karmil (24 June 1931); also Kramer, Islam Assembled, p. 123.
162
Nielsen, ‘The International Islamic Conference’, pp. 341–342.
163
Concerning the subjects of the eight sub-committees, see Gibb, ‘The Islamic Congress at Jerusalem’, p. 105.
164
Ibid.
165
166
The general view being that they intended to rebuild the Jewish temple on the site of the Haram al-Sharif. FO
371/16009, police report on the 1931 Islamic Conference, 24 December 1931. See also Mattar, ‘The Role of the
Mufti’, p. 107.
167
168
Ibid., p. 145.
169
Al-Jami‘ah al-‘Arabiyyah (15 and 18 December 1931).
40
was] to show to the Zionists a united Muslim front, and to make Muslims all over the
world notice the injustice being done to their Palestinian co-religionists’.170
Arab Nationalism Subsumed

Alongside the World Islamic Conference, a gathering was held on 16 December
1931 around the theme of Arab nationalism, at the home of ‘Awni ‘Abd al-Hadi, a
lawyer for the Supreme Muslim Council.171 Attending were the Arab participants
from the Conference, all of whom signed a pact (‘The Manifesto to the Arab
World’) calling for Arab unity and the full independence of the Arab countries.172
The gathering was intentionally organised as something apart from the Islamic
Conference in order to avoid the latter assuming the appearance of a pan-Arab as
opposed to a pan-Islamic event.173 At the same time, though on the face of it
representative of what would appear to be strictly Arab nationalist demands, there
was no question of its affiliation with the Conference. In many respects, the
relationship between the two was illustrative of that between Arab nationalism and
pan-Islamism, at least from the perspective of a fair number of Muslim Arabs.
Arab nationalist issues were but one component of a much broader Islamic agenda,
and the problems of the Arabs were inherently those of the broader worldwide
Muslim community. Though the pan-Arab gathering received hardly any
publicity, its manifesto would provide the inspiration for more radical nationalist
organisations and political parties, the most notable being the Istiqlal Party
(formed under ‘Awni ‘Abd al-Hadi). Five of the manifesto’s signatories, in fact,
were among the party’s founding members.174 The Istiqlal Party in particular
would appeal strongly to those disaffected with the traditional leadership, and
would come to constitute an important factor in Palestinian Arab politics.175
Arab nationalists attending the World Islamic Conference were not entirely
unaware of the need to maintain at least some distinction between purely Islamic
issues and those that might be qualified as Arab nationalist, and thus of importance to
non-Muslims, whether in Palestine or elsewhere in the region. More specifically,
there was a concern that the Conference should not have a negative impact on
Muslim–Christian relations. Thus, for instance, Hajj Amin was more than a little
alarmed when the Iranian ex-Prime Minister, Ziya al-Din al-Tabataba’i, while
170
Nielsen, ‘The International Islamic Conference’, p. 354, quoting from an article appearing at the time in a
journal called Near East (uncited).
171
The ‘gathering’ was essentially a party given by ‘Awni ‘Abd al-Hadi for about 40 guests, and only later
became known as the ‘Arab Conference’. See FO 371/16854, Memorandum on the Proposed Arab Congress,
attached to correspondence from Percy to Oliphant, 20 January 1933; also Mayer, ‘Egypt and the General Islamic
Conference’, p. 318.
172
FO 371/16854, Memorandum on the Proposed Arab Congress, attached to correspondence from Percy to
Oliphant, 20 January 1933. See also Gibb, ‘The Islamic Congress at Jerusalem’, p. 107; Nielsen, ‘The
International Islamic Conference’, p. 348; and Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, p. 124. For the text of the
manifesto, see Al-Karmil (27 January 1932).
173
Gibb, ‘The Islamic Congress at Jerusalem’, p. 107; also Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim Congress of
1931’, p. 141.
174
For what it’s worth, none of these were Christian. See Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, p. 124; also
Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim Congress of 1931’, pp. 155– 156.
175
Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, p. 125. Among other things, the Istiqlal Party called for a policy of
non-payment of taxes and non-cooperation with the government, as well as a more militant line against the
Palestine government. Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, p. 125. Additionally, while essentially pan-Arab in
outlook, it was a pan-Arabism strongly rooted in the salafiyyah model of Arab identity, something perhaps best
evidenced by the party’s strong ties with Sheikh ‘Izz al-Din al-Qassam. Porath, From Riots to Rebellion,
pp. 137 –138.
41
ERIK FREAS
speaking before the other delegates, defined the purpose of the Conference as being
to combat Palestine’s ‘Christian’ government, which discriminated in favour of local
Christians. Hajj Amin was genuinely concerned that the Conference should not
alienate Palestine’s Christian Arabs.176 His co-sponsor, Shawkat ‘Ali, seemed
sensitive to this concern as well, and took great pains to emphasise the positive
reception he received from the local Christians whenever visiting Palestine.
Referring to a trip he had made to Jerusalem just a few months prior to the
Conference, he noted that:
[w]hile coming [that] morning on the train I was recognised on the journey by some
Christian Arab brothers and they all complained to me of not informing them of my arrival
so that the whole town would have come to welcome me . . . They showered on me
hospitality which was genuine Arab hospitality.177
Nonetheless, the theme of ‘Christian favouritism’—that is, that the Mandate
governments discriminated against Muslims in favour of local Christians—was
not one so easily evaded. For instance, a Syrian participant, when complaining
about French interference with Muslim preachers and Muslim awqāf, could not
resist noting that Christians did not suffer the same treatment.178 Such complaints
likely resonated quite strongly with Palestine’s Muslims, many of whom resented
the Palestine administration’s seeming bias in favour of Christian Arabs with
respect to government employment (as noted above).
What impact the Conference might have on Muslim– Christian relations was not
only a concern in Palestine. Other Arab countries had relatively large Christian
minorities, most notably Egypt. Thus, the Egyptian delegate, ‘Abd al-Rahman
‘Azzam, in a speech given as part of the opening ceremonies, greeted the participants
on behalf of Egypt’s Muslims and Christians, noting that the latter were equally
supportive of the Conference and that they stood to benefit as much as Muslims from
its success.179 The impact of the Conference on Muslim– Christian relations was of
general concern to all the Egyptian delegates, who feared that a manifestation of
unity which took on too Islamic a colouring could fan the flames of sectarianism
back home. It was this concern in part that had motivated the Wafdist al-Nuqrashi
not to attend the Islamic Conference at all.180 For Egypt, this would remain an
important consideration, particularly with respect to the Palestinian cause.181 Even
years later, when speaking on British policy in Palestine, the Egyptian nationalist
al-Nahhas took great pains to express his objections on three different bases—as an
Arab, as a Muslim and as an Egyptian. In the first case, he saw Palestine as belonging
to the native population whether Christian, Muslim or Jewish; in the second, he
found British (that is, Christian) protection of the Muslim holy sites intolerable; and
in the third, he considered the possibility of a neighbouring Jewish state as a
danger.182 The last concern was where Palestine’s Muslim and Christian Arabs
176
ZA, S/25, 4142, Kalvarisky to Arlosoroff, on a talk with al-Tabataba’i.
177
From a statement made be Shawkat ‘Ali appearing in Filastin. See CO 732/47/6, collection of speeches and
statements made by ‘Ali, collected by Arlosoroff, and addressed to Brodetsky, 3 October 1931.
178
179
Coury, ‘Egyptians in Jerusalem’, p. 42.
180
Ibid., p. 51.
181
Concerning Egypt’s response to the Palestinian issue and the fear of sectarianism, see James Jankowski,
‘Egyptian Responses to the Palestine Problem in the Interwar Period’, International Journal of Middle East
Studies, 12(1) (1980), pp. 8–9; also Coury, ‘Egyptians in Jerusalem’, p. 52.
182
42
found common ground, whatever their larger understanding of Arab national

identity, its relationship to Islam and Palestine’s place with respect to both.
As noted above, emphasising Palestine’s Islamic significance was also a matter
of political expedience. That such an emphasis served to enhance the status of Hajj
Amin goes without question. Certainly the topics slated for discussion at the
Conference worked to his benefit. The Haram al-Sharif was, after all, under the
control of the Supreme Muslim Council, and the establishment of a pan-Islamic
university in Jerusalem could only add to his status as the most pre-eminent
‘Muslim’ leader in Palestine.183 By the time the Conference actually convened,
Shawkat ‘Ali’s role had greatly diminished. It had largely become Hajj Amin’s
project, and indeed his hand was fully evident in it from start to finish. The Rawdat
al-Ma‘arif College, under the authority of the Supreme Muslim Council, served as
the assembly hall; the musical band and boy scouts of the Muslim Orphanage, also
under the Council’s authority, were at the opening ceremony at the Aqsa Mosque;
finally, the newspaper Al-Jami‘ah Al-‘Arabiyyah, in effect Hajj Amin’s
mouthpiece, had begun making propaganda long before the Conference by
publishing articles on the delegates scheduled to attend.184 Concerning the
composition of the participants, very little had been left to chance and it soon
became apparent that the majority of those attending were there primarily on the
merit of being supporters of Hajj Amin. His faction fairly dominated the
Conference, and right from the start he was acknowledged as Congress
President.185 It was this, in fact, that underlay much of the hostility of the
Opposition towards the Conference.186 They criticised Hajj Amin for his
autocratic handling of the nomination of the Palestinian delegates,187 and argued
that he was using the Congress as a tool for his own self-aggrandisement. The
Opposition attacked the Congress and its preparatory committee in a manifesto.188
Hajj Amin, for his part, portrayed himself as a national leader representative of the
majority of Palestine’s Arabs, and dismissed the Opposition as being of little
significance.189
The Opposition’s campaign against Hajj Amin was initially successful in
generating scepticism about the Mufti’s intentions. Primarily, they attacked the
partisan way in which he and his associates had organised it, suggesting that his
purpose was to exploit it for his own political and personal gain.190 This was
certainly a view shared by many in the British administration, who noted that there
was ‘some foundation . . . that the Mufti was exploiting the Congress for the
[furthering] of his own personal ambitions’.191 The Opposition, led by Raghib al-
Nashashibi, quickly followed up on this by organising a rival conference, the
183
As President of the Supreme Muslim Council, Hajj Amin also held the title ra’ı̄s al-‘ulamā, which might be
translated as president or ‘head’ of the Muslim leadership or ‘learned community’. See Kupferschmidt, The
Supreme Muslim Council, p. 79.
184
185
See FO 371/16009, police report on the 1931 Islamic Conference, 24 December 1931; also Filastin
(8 December 1931); and Al-Jami‘ah Al-‘Arabiyyah (9 December 1931). See also Kupferschmidt, ‘The General
Muslim Congress of 1931’, pp. 139–140; and Kramer, Islam Assembled, p. 133.
186
187
Oriente Moderno (November 1931), pp. 527–528, from Al-Ahram (25 October 1931).
188
See Gibb, ‘The Islamic Congress at Jerusalem’, p. 104, footnote 1; also Kramer, Islam Assembled, p. 127.
189
Mayer, ‘Egypt and the General Islamic Conference’, pp. 314–315, from the Egyptian Gazette (14
November 1931).
190
191
FO 371/16009, secret correspondence from Wauchope to Cunliffe-Lister, 26 March 1932.
43
ERIK FREAS
Congress of the Palestinian Muslim Nation, which opened session on 11

December 1931 at the King David Hotel in Jerusalem.192 About 1000 individuals
attended, and it was the first time all the Muslim factions opposing Hajj Amin
came together at one event. The Congress used the Conference as a forum for
directly attacking the Supreme Muslim Council, and called for new elections and
reforms aimed at limiting the Council’s control of the shari‘a courts.193 It was
generally understood that the Congress of the Palestinian Muslim Nation also
stood for moderation and cooperation with the government.194
The World Islamic Conference concluded on 17 December with the
establishment of a permanent Executive, with Hajj Amin as its chair.195 Shawkat
‘Ali, also elected to the Executive, relinquished his seat in frustration over the
manner in which Hajj Amin had dominated the entire Conference.196 A number of
resolutions were passed, among them the intention to convene again in Jerusalem
in two years.197 Other resolutions particular to Palestine included the intention to
establish an Islamic university in Jerusalem (to be called the al-Masjid al-Aqsa
University); the condemnation of the selling of land to Jews, and the intention to
establish a company to save Palestinian land from being purchased by them;198 a
proclamation concerning the sanctity of al-Buraq (the Wailing Wall) and the
willingness of Muslims to protect it; and, perhaps most relevant to Palestine’s
Christian Arabs, the intention to combat Christian missionary activity directed at
Muslims.199 Notably, this last resolution was tempered with another one
expressing gratitude to Palestine and Transjordan’s Christians for having
supported the Conference, together with a message of congratulations to the
Second Arab-Orthodox Conference, then taking place in Jaffa.200
The Second Arab Orthodox Congress

Christian reaction to the Islamic Conference, at least on the face of it, was generally
positive, and many of Palestine’s Christian Arabs publicly declared their support.201
For instance, George Antonius, a Christian Arab202 with strong nationalist leanings,
in spite of his being at the time a public servant of the British administration in
Palestine, endorsed the Conference without reservation, stating unequivocally that he
regarded it as ‘potentially the most important constructive effort among Moslems in
recent years, and one which [was] fraught with far-reaching possibilities’.203 Equally
supportive was the President of the Jerusalem Muslim–Christian Association, who
192
Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim Congress of 1931’, p. 140. Arguably also with the purpose of demonstrating
(collectively) its own ‘Islamic’ credentials.
193
See FO 371/16009, secret correspondence from Wauchope to Cunliffe-Lister, 30 January 1932.
194
Ibid.
195
Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim Congress of 1931’, pp. 150–151.
196
Kramer, Islam Assembled, p. 137. Concerning the manner in which Hajj Amin dominated the Conference, see
also FO 371/16009, police report on the 1931 Islamic Conference, 24 December 1931.
197
See Nielsen, ‘The International Islamic Conference’, p. 352; also Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim
Congress of 1931’, p. 150.
198
Oriente Moderno (January 1932), pp. 38–39, from Filastin (6–18 December 1931).
199
This was to be done largely through the printing of polemical pamphlets on the Crucifixion and the
Redemption, spelling out what it was that Muslims did and did not believe concerning Jesus. Oriente Moderno
(January 1932), p. 35, from Filastin (6–18 December 1931).
200
A complete list of the resolutions can be found in Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, p. 12.
201
See FO 371/16009, police report on the 1931 Islamic Conference, 24 December 1931.
202
Though, it might be noted, of Lebanese descent.
203
44
paid the Conference a visit shortly after it began, as an indication of Muslim–

Christian solidarity.204 No doubt such gestures were in large part sincere. At the same
time, however, it would appear that not all Christians were happy with the World
Islamic Conference, in particular the fact that it stressed Jerusalem’s role as a centre
of Muslim religious and cultural revival.205 Indeed, an article appearing in the
Egyptian newspaper Al-Ahram suggested that Christians (along with Zionists)
generally opposed the Conference.206
The Islamic Conference made some effort to remain on good terms with
Palestine’s Christian Arabs, though often in what seemed a somewhat patronising
manner.207 For instance, on the third day of the Conference, Hajj Amin, in referring to
a telegram of congratulations from the Arab Orthodox Congress, ‘mentioned briefly
the collaboration and solidarity which Palestinian Christians had given the Muslims
in the national struggle and proposed that they be saluted and that a letter of gratitude
be sent them’.208 Implied in this statement, it seems, was that the national struggle
was at heart a ‘Muslim struggle’; Christian Arabs might choose to lend their support
or not.209 In any event, for most of the participants at the Conference, it was sufficient
simply that nothing was said or done that might be seen as blatantly hostile towards
the Christian community. Ironically, supposed Muslim–Christian harmony was
often cited at the Conference as a model to be imitated by the Conference’s Muslim
participants. As characterised by one participant, it was a relationship of ‘sympathy
and brotherhood’, the very attitude, he went on to note, so amply demonstrated by
the Islamic Conference towards the Christian community.210 More than once, the
lack of cordiality between the different factions at the Conference was contrasted
with the supposed harmonious relations that existed between Palestine’s Muslims
and Christians. One participant, when addressing religious divisions within Islam,
commented that different trends should be respected, and drew a contrast with the
situation in Palestine, where an ‘attempt [was being made] to promote harmony
between Christians and Muslims’.211
Various Christian associations did send the World Islamic Conference telegrams
and mazbatas of support,212 among them the Second Arab Orthodox Congress.213
Whether such sentiment was representative of the broader Christian community is
of course debatable. As noted above, there is evidence that not all Christians were
happy with the emphasis given to Palestine’s Islamic character by the Conference.
On the other hand, there are reasons to believe that within the Christian Orthodox
community such sentiments were largely sincere. There, the struggle between the
Arabic-speaking laity and Greek-dominated clergy had come to a head. Strong
nationalist feelings had been stirred, and by extension, feelings of solidarity with
204
205
Ann Mosely Lesch, ‘The Palestine Arab Nationalist Movement under the Mandate’, in William B. Quandt,
Fuad Jabber and Ann Mosely Lesch (eds), The Politics of Palestinian Nationalism (Berkeley, CA: University of
California Press, 1973), p. 19.
206
Oriente Moderno (November 1931), p. 528, from Al-Ahram (25 October 1931). Though comments made by
an Egyptian newspaper regarding the attitude of Christian Arabs in Palestine should probably be taken with a
pinch of salt.
207
208
209
A similar attitude was evident with respect to the boycott of the elections for the legislative council in 1923.
See, for instance, Hopwood, The Russian Presence in Syria and Palestine, p. 201.
210
Nielsen, ‘The International Islamic Conference’, p. 346.
211
212
213
Oriente Moderno (January 1932), p. 27, from Palestine Bulletin (7 December 1931).
45
ERIK FREAS
Muslims. Members of the Christian Orthodox community were prepared to do more

than send words of congratulations. Most notable in this respect was ‘Isa al-‘Isa, the
editor of Filastin, who sent the World Islamic Conference a proposal outlining a
scheme for saving Palestinian lands from the Zionists through their endowment as
Islamic awqāf. Specifically, he proposed that Palestinian lands still owned by Arabs
be assigned a value per dunam, high enough to attract the interest of rich Muslims,
who might then buy them and donate them as religious endowments. All profits
would go to the proposed Islamic university. In reading the proposal to the
participants at the Conference, the Secretary, Riyad al-Sulh, duly noted the overall
solidarity demonstrated by Christians towards their Muslim brethren.214
Underlying this feeling of solidarity was the fact that the Second Arab Orthodox
Congress was being held concurrently with the World Islamic Conference. The
Congress was precipitated by the death earlier that year of the Jerusalem Orthodox
Patriarch Damianos. The long-standing feud between the Greek-dominated higher
clergy and the Arab laity—which dated back to at least the late nineteenth century
and essentially concerned the latter’s desire to ‘Arabise’ the Orthodox Church in
Palestine—had thus been rekindled around the question of who would be the next
Patriarch and, equally important, how he would be selected and by whom. The
Christian Orthodox community, which constituted the single largest Christian
Arab community in Palestine, as well as the most well integrated one—socially,
culturally and linguistically—with respect to Palestine’s Muslim majority, had
since the late nineteenth century come to define itself in a nationalistic sense as
‘Arab’. This had brought them into conflict with their own upper clergy, the
members of which considered the community to be essentially ‘Greek’. More
important perhaps, and not unrelated, was the matter of who was responsible to
whom, and to whom the considerable revenue derived from the various Christian
holy sites under Orthodox control belonged—whether to the local Orthodox
‘Arab’ community or the worldwide Orthodox community headquartered in
Greece.
By the time of the British Mandate, then, the Christian Orthodox lay community
had come to define their conflict with the Greek clergy in strongly nationalistic
terms (it might be added, as but one component of the larger nationalist cause).
This was perhaps best expressed in an editorial appearing in Filastin at the time:
Palestine is oppressed not only by the British mandate but also by those of the Zionists and
Greeks, which are no less severe. These three mandatories have aided one another in depriving
Palestinian Arabs of their rights. The Greek patriarchate supports the Zionists against the
Arabs . . . All Palestinian Arabs have a duty to combat these three foreign mandates.215
For most Christian Orthodox, the defence of the Haram al-Sharif was similarly but
one component of the larger nationalist cause. Zionism—as manifested in the sale
of church properties by the Greek-dominated clergy and the Jewish contestation of
religious rights with respect to the Wailing Wall—defined the link between the
two. As such, the nationalist cause belonged equally to Christians as to Muslims.
Responsibility for choosing the next Patriarch rested with the Electoral Assembly,
a body strongly dominated by the Greek-speaking higher clergy as represented by
the Holy Synod of the Patriarchate. The laity was represented in the Electoral
214
Oriente Moderno (January 1932), p. 33, from Filastin (6–18 December 1931). See also Nielsen, ‘The
International Islamic Conference’, p. 345.
215
Filastin (16 October 1931); see also Hopwood, The Russian Presence in Syria and Palestine, p. 205.
46
Assembly, but was outnumbered.216 They now demanded equal representation, and
that the Fundamental Law determining the constitution of the Assembly be altered.
The British-sponsored Bertram-Young Report of 1926 had recommended such a
change, furthermore that ‘in the event of the present Patriarch dying, or vacating his
office, the [related] ordinance [which was in draft form in the appendix of the report]
should be passed before the election of his successor’.217 The High Commissioner
had, in January 1930, sought to bring the substance of the bill into force as part of the
Religious Communities Organisation Ordinance. The Foreign Office, however,
fearful of Greek interference,218 decided it would be better to implement the
suggested changes after the ‘[t]hrone was firmly occupied’.219
When it became clear that the government had no intention of changing the
Fundamental Law prior to the election of a new Patriarch, the Christian Orthodox
community immediately began petitioning the government, and numerous
petitions and letters of protest were sent calling for the Law’s immediate revision.
The Second Arab Orthodox Congress finally convened in Jaffa, and immediately
appealed to the government to reconsider its position, claiming that, based on
Ottoman precedent, it had the right to ‘assert and secure the constitutional rights of
its subjects and to impose such law on all concerned’, independent of the will of
the Synod.220 The Congress called for a boycott of the election until its demands
had been met.221 The election of the new Patriarch, already delayed from its
original starting date of 23 September—the day the Electoral Assembly was
scheduled to meet in order to begin the process—was indefinitely postponed.222
The Second Arab Orthodox Congress generated strong Arab-nationalist sentiment
within the Christian Orthodox community, and for the reasons cited above, many felt
a sense of common purpose with the World Islamic Conference. While both events
were ostensibly religious affairs, many Christian Orthodox also understood them as
analogous components of the larger nationalist struggle.223 Both were two sides of
the same coin, so to speak, and correspondingly, each community might expect
the other’s support. In this vein, the Arab Orthodox Congress demanded that the
Islamic Conference address the authorities on their behalf regarding the election of a
new Patriarch.224 Such thinking was evident in an article in Filastin that had appeared
a few months earlier. In it, it was noted that the Orthodox cause ‘ought to be the cause
of all the Arabs, Muslim as well as Christian’.225 There was certainly no reason for
Muslims not to endorse the Christian Orthodox cause, and in fact it was resolved at
216
Concerning the functioning of the Electoral Assembly, see CO 733/204/9, article clipping from the Church
Times (16 October 1931), entitled ‘The Jerusalem Election. How the New Patriarch Will Be Chosen’.
217
Ibid.
218
Concerning the involvement of the Greek government, see Ibid., internal British memorandum (no date), circa
late December 1931, and letter from the Office of the High Commissioner to Thomas, 31 October 1931; also Kirsten
Stoffregen Pedersen, The Holy Land Christians, ed. Natalie King (Jerusalem: Private Publication, 2003), pp. 97–98.
219
CO 733/204/9, internal British memorandum (no date), circa late December 1931.
220
CO 733/204/9, representation submitted by the Executive Committee of the Second Arab Orthodox Congress
to the High Commissioner’s Office, 22 October 1931; and CO 733/204/9, letter from Douglas to Gaselee, 2
October 1931. See also Tsimhoni, ‘The Status of the Arab Christians’, p. 171 and footnote 34.
221
CO 733/204/9, letter from Office of the High Commissioner to Thomas, 31 October 1931.
222
CO 733/204/9, article clipping from the Church Times, 16 October 1931.
223
See, for example, Filastin, 8 December 1931.
224
Oriente Moderno (January 1932), p. 35, from Filastin (6–18 December 1931). See also FO 371/16009, police
report on the 1931 Islamic Conference, 24 December 1931, where it is noted that ‘Nachleh Kattan of Jerusalem
sought the support of the [Islamic] Congress of Christian Orthodox demands . . . ’. Also Nielsen, ‘The
International Islamic Conference’, p. 344.
225
Elie Kedourie, ‘Religion and Politics: The Diaries of Khalil Sakakini’, Middle Eastern Affairs, 1, St. Antony’s
Papers, 4 (1958), p. 86, footnote 22, original from Filastin, 16 October 1931.
47
ERIK FREAS
the World Islamic Conference that ‘the Orthodox question [be considered] as part of
the bigger Arab question, and to draw the attention of the Government to the right of
Orthodox Palestinians to elect an Arab patriarch’.226 In the end, though, however
much the Christian Orthodox may have wanted to see it as such, the two struggles
were not analogous, nor was the manner in which they were represented by their
respective conferences. Whereas the Arab Orthodox Congress rejected the position
of the Greek-dominated higher clergy—wherein the community’s ties with the
universal Greek Orthodox community were greatly stressed, largely in connection
with the Christian holy sites in Palestine of which the clergy considered itself the
guardian—the Islamic Conference sought to emphasise Palestine’s ties with the
larger Islamic world on the basis of that country’s Muslim holy sites.
The Islamisation of the Palestinian Cause

One should be careful not to exaggerate the impact of the Islamic Conference, nor the
degree to which it boosted Hajj Amin’s status. Muhammad ‘Ali al-Tahir, Hajj Amin’s
publicist, claimed disappointedly in his account of the Conference that, within six
months of its having concluded, it had been largely forgotten by the Arab public.227
Likely Al-Tahir’s grim (and somewhat exaggerated) assessment of the Conference
reflected overly high expectations of what it might realistically have been expected to
achieve. It is true that none of the resolutions passed at the Conference ever reached
fruition, including the decision to convene subsequent conferences.228 Likewise, the
proposed Islamic university, which was to constitute the most important concrete
achievement of the Conference, proved in the end to be a non-starter, mostly due to a
lack of funds.229 On the other hand, the Palestinian cause had become regional in
scope, and there is little question that Hajj Amin’s status was greatly elevated as a
consequence of it. Indeed, from that point on, he would remain in regular contact with
Muslim religious leaders around the world, often soliciting their support in the name
of Islam. Typical was a letter he wrote in 1935 to various Muslim religious leaders
concerning ‘the grave situation of the Muslims in this Arab Muslim country’, and ‘the
great danger which has befallen this sacred and blessed Moslem country’.230 Hajj
Amin had become a leader of international stature.231 When the British considered
deporting him in 1936, there was some concern about possible repercussions in
India, Egypt, Iraq and Arabia.232 In the aftermath of the Conference, many in the
226
Oriente Moderno (January 1932), p. 35, from Filastin (6–18 December 1931). See also Gibb, ‘The Islamic
Congress at Jerusalem’, p. 106.
227
228
Though in part this reflected a concerted effort on the part of the British to prevent the subsequent holding of
such conferences. See, for example, FO 371/16854, private correspondence from Cunliffe-Lister to Foreign
Office, 21 March 1933, and correspondence from Williams to the Under Secretary of State, Foreign Office, 24
February 1933.
229
See Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim Congress of 1931’, p. 152; also Gibb, ‘The Islamic Congress at
Jerusalem’, p. 108. Though the worsening political environment in Palestine in the period leading up to the Arab
Revolt likely proved somewhat disruptive in this respect as well.
230
Erskine, Palestine of the Arabs, p. 165.
231
See, for instance, Lesch, Arab Politics in Palestine, p. 107.
232
See, for instance, CO 733/311/5, telegram from the Home Department of the Government of India to the
Secretary of State for India, 10 October 1936. Indeed, the British were particularly anxious about how the
situation in Palestine was playing in India, given its sizeable Muslim minority. Thus, the British Secretary of India
noted with concern that the ‘Mohammedan newspapers in India were criticizing the pro-Zionist policy of His
Majesty’s Government’. CO 733/297/2, Note of conversation with Mr. Kenneth Williams, Editor of Great Britain
and the East, 5 June 1936, and from Cabinet Extract 41(36) from Conclusions of a Meeting held on Wednesday,
10 June 1936. Telling also was London’s reluctance two years after the World Islamic Conference (in 1933) to
48
administration wondered if allowing the Conference had not been a mistake. As noted
by the French consul in Jerusalem at the time, ‘a dangerous instrument of propaganda
and agitation has been put in Hajj Amin’s hands which, if he uses skilfully, could
complicate the task of those powers in authority in Muslim lands’.233
At the same time, Hajj Amin’s heavy-handed managing of the Conference had
disaffected not only Arabs in Palestine, but some of the participants from the other
countries as well,234 including Shawkat ‘Ali.235 There was a strong negative reaction
in official circles in Egypt,236 criticism being levelled at the Palestinian focus of the
Conference, and the fact that the majority of participants, all of whom were effectively
appointed by the Mufti, had come from Palestine and Transjordan. One Egyptian
newspaper remarked it odd that a conference touted as being regional in scope should
have as many as 88 participants representing the approximately one million Muslims
residing in Palestine and Transjordan, and only 70 participants representing the
roughly 400 million Muslims that made up the rest of the Islamic world.237
The Conference’s impact on Hajj Amin’s status within Palestine was in some ways
equally mixed. As noted in an article appearing in the journal Near East written in the
immediate aftermath of the Conference, ‘[i]n the Islamic world the mufti’s name has
grown more famous, but what will be the results in Palestine itself?’238 On the one
hand, the counter-conference organised by the Opposition seemed to have a limited
impact.239 By the time of the Nabi Musa festival in 1932, less than half a year later, the
Opposition’s status had reached an all-time low.240 At the same time, the Mufti’s
ability to work with certain important members of the Palestinian leadership was
damaged beyond repair.241 As far as turning the Palestinian cause into an Islamic one
regional in scope, the 1931 Islamic Conference was an unqualified success. From that
point on, Arabs and Muslims in other countries became increasingly vocal in their
opposition to Zionism. Resolutions and petitions in support of the Palestinian Arabs
were issued with ever increasing frequency. Equally, demonstrations against Zionism
became a common phenomenon in Muslim countries. Many of those who had
participated in the Conference went on to become outspoken critics of Zionism in their
home countries.242 Significantly, the great majority of movements in support of
Palestine in the other Arab countries were initiated by Islamic organisations, and it was
Footnote 232 continued
allow the convening of a Pan-Arab Congress in Jerusalem, considered the worst possible choice of venue in all of
the Middle East on account of how strongly the Palestinian cause (both with respect to Zionism and the Haram
al-Sharif) was then resonating throughout the Muslim world. See FO 371/16854, private correspondence from
Cunliffe-Lister to Foreign Office, 21 March 1933, and correspondence from Williams to the Under Secretary of
State, Foreign Office, 24 February 1933.
233
234
235
See Nielsen, ‘The International Islamic Conference’, p. 352.
236
FO 371/16009, secret correspondence from Wauchope to Cunliffe-Lister, 26 March 1932.
237
238
Near East article [no date] quoted in Nielsen, ‘The International Islamic Conference’, p. 354.
239
See, for instance, ZA, S/25, 3557, report from A.H. Cohen, 11 October 1933, concerning the long-term impact
of Opposition Congress.
240
See, for instance, FO 371/16926, CID Periodical Appreciation Summary, 25 March 1933.
241
See, for instance, ZA, S/25, 3478, K/272/30, report from F.H. Kisch, 16 February 1930, concerning H.M.
Kalvarisky’s encounter with Musa Kazim al-Husayni; also Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim Congress of 1931’,
p. 155.
242
See, for instance, CO 733/231/3, correspondence from different Muslim countries indicating solidarity with
Palestine’s Arabs and a concern for the Muslim holy sites there; also Kupferschmidt, ‘The General Muslim
Congress of 1931’, pp. 156– 157.
49
ERIK FREAS
generally on the basis of Islam, not pan-Arabism, that they sought to generate support.
Nationalist organisations, by contrast, proved disinclined to become involved.243
The nationalist cause was being transformed into an Islamic one, and while this
certainly had the benefit of generating regional support, it also had the effect of
marginalising Christian Arabs. As long as Palestine remained predominantly a
‘Palestinian’ issue, or even an ‘Arab’ issue, in principle it belonged to non-Muslims as
much as Muslims. The accentuation of ties with the larger Muslim world also raised
questions regarding with whom Palestinian Muslims saw their primary affiliation.
Was it with other Muslims or with non-Muslim Palestinian Arabs? The proposed al-
Aqsa University was a case in point. On the one hand, its purpose was often described
as being to counter the Hebrew University in Jerusalem—in effect, to promote the
Palestinian cause against Zionism. At the same time, as one of the delegates to the
Conference noted, it was a university for ‘Muslims’, not ‘Arabs’. Moreover, as
expressed in a report on the Conference put together by the High Commissioner’s
Office, it was meant ‘to enable Moslems [seeking a secondary education] to dispense
with non-Moslem institutions’.244 These ‘non-Muslim’ institutions were certainly
not Jewish ones; they were Christian ones.245 Additionally, the proposed Islamic
university was also to have a regional significance. Christian Orthodox might well
imagine that the Arab Orthodox Congress and the World Islamic Conference were
somehow cut from the same cloth, that participants in both saw their respective events
as part of the same broader movement. Perhaps this was true in part, but surely both
saw their respective roles within the ‘shared movement’ somewhat differently. In any
case, the fact remained that, whereas the Second Arab Orthodox Congress had sought
to redefine what was, on the face of it, a ‘church’ issue—the question of the succession
of the Patriarch—in overtly nationalist terms, the Islamic Conference had set about to
do exactly the opposite, to redefine the Palestinian cause in Islamic terms.
That by this time the Palestinian nationalist cause was beginning to take on
a more Islamic character is borne out by later developments. Already noted is
the fact that the Arab Revolt of 1936–1939 was a largely Muslim affair, both in
terms of who actually participated and the character of the various militant groups
involved.246 Telling also is the fact that the Arab Revolt would see a reconfiguring of
exactly who it was that constituted the enemy, the focus shifting from Zionist Jews to
the British Mandatory power itself. Whereas Zionism had provided a clearly external
enemy, one with which both Muslims and Christians were equally unaffiliated, the
British were another matter. For Christians, these were, in effect, co-religionists. The
fact that there existed a perception of British favouritism towards Christian Arabs
with respect to government employment certainly did not help.247 Indeed, even prior
to the World Islamic Conference, there was evidence of growing tensions between
Palestine’s Muslims and Christians. Thus, the aforementioned murder of a Christian
243
244
245
While they might equally have been referring to government schools as missionary-founded ones, it is worth
noting that one of the main criticisms of the government schools was the fact that a majority of the teachers in
them were Christian Arabs. See for example, Al-Jami‘ah Al-‘Arabiyyah (15 November 1928).
246
See, for instance, Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, pp. 181, 267–269.
247
Indeed, as of the time of the Arab Revolt, such a perception was still quite strong. Porath, From Riots to
Rebellion, p. 269. Concerning negative attitudes among Muslims towards Christian Arabs in general at the time of
the Revolt, see for instance CO 733/347/10, Second Revision of section on ‘The Christians’, from the report of the
Royal Commission, 1937, p. 12; also Miller, Government and Society in Rural Palestine, p. 124, originally in
H.M. Wilson’s ‘School Year in Palestine, 1938–1939’. St. Antony’s College, Middle East Centre, University of
Oxford; and Porath, From Riots to Rebellion, pp. 269– 270.
50
Arab journalist in Haifa during the early part of 1930 had generated more than a little
ill feeling between the two communities.248 The increasingly radical character of the
movement was also a factor, in and of itself, something evident, for instance, at a
nationalist meeting convened in Nablus in September 1931. Those attending urged
greater militancy and a policy of non-cooperation with the government. Palestine’s
Christian Arabs were disinclined to adopt such tactics, and in the end they deliberately
boycotted the meeting.249
From an ideological standpoint, what actually constituted Arab (and Palestinian)
national identity would remain a work in progress over the course of the Mandate
(and arguably well beyond it). So too would the relationship between Arab national
identity and Islam. Was Islam simply a part of the Arab legacy, albeit a highly
significant one, or was it what defined who the Arabs were? As noted above, during
the early part of the Mandate, differences in how Christian and Muslim Arabs in
Palestine understood the relationship between the two tended to be obfuscated or
simply ignored in light of the more immediate problem of Zionism. Events such as
the World Islamic Conference, however, tended to make such obfuscation difficult.
Such developments, however, do not happen strictly by happenstance. Particularly
relevant when considering the impact of such events is the role played by political
actors seeking to further their own political ambitions. Such individuals may seek to
manipulate proto-nationalist symbols (in this case, Islamic ones) within a new
nationalist (that is, Arab) context. Hajj Amin al-Husayni was one such political
actor, who through his positions as Grand Mufti and President of the Supreme
Muslim Council was able to appropriate Islamo-political symbols for the purpose of
strengthening his own position vis-à-vis his political rivals. The World Islamic
Conference is a case in point, as through it he was able to characterise the Palestinian
nationalist cause as a pan-Islamic one—that is, as a matter of defending the Muslim
holy places in Jerusalem—in a way that strengthened the relationship between Arab
national identity and Islam. As explained above, doing this served to greatly
enhance his status, both within Palestine and regionally. It also had the effect of
effectively diminishing (at least temporarily) the role of Palestine’s Christian Arabs
within the Palestinian nationalist movement.
248
See, for instance, The Palestine Bulletin, 14– 19 September 1931, Al-Karmil (4 October 1931); also
O’Mahony, ‘Palestinian Christians’, p. 49.
249
51

Hajj Amin Al Husayni and The Haram Al Sharif A Pan Islamic or Palestinian Nationalist Cause

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British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies

ISSN: 1353-0194 (Print) 1469-3542 (Online) Journal homepage: https://www.tandfonline.com/loi/cbjm20

Hajj Amin al-Husayni and the Haram al-Sharif: A

To link to this article: https://doi.org/10.1080/13530194.2012.659446

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Palestinian Identity—at the Nexus of Pan-Arab and Pan-Islamic Identity

The Wailing Wall Disturbances

there was in the disturbances was largely motivated by religious sensibilities.49 To

a significant part of a shared nationalist heritage, whether ‘Arab’ or ‘Palestinian’.

The World Islamic Conference

Arab Nationalism Subsumed

found common ground, whatever their larger understanding of Arab national

Congress of the Palestinian Muslim Nation, which opened session on 11

The Second Arab Orthodox Congress

paid the Conference a visit shortly after it began, as an indication of Muslim–

Muslims. Members of the Christian Orthodox community were prepared to do more

The Islamisation of the Palestinian Cause

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