The Rise and Fall of a Palestinian Dynasty (5 page)

We have a slightly different version of the story about the name. Butrus Abu-Manneh proposes opening the narrative not with the Ghudayya clan but with Abd al-Latif’s father, the scion of an important family whose name is unknown, because prior to the eighteenth century, Abu-Manneh claims, people did not use surnames.
¹³

Members of the family, however, have asked that we begin their history with the Prophet Muhammad, since the link between the Husaynis and the Prophet’s family was the basis for their claim to a senior position in Palestine – and who is to say that this claim is or is not valid? Max Weber argues that the identity of a given organization is the sum of its subjective and objective definitions. During most of the period covered in this account, the local population accepted the Husaynis’ claim to notability, and this acceptance was used to advance its status. Towards the end of the period, however, the situation changed – by the late Ottoman era, and
a fortiori
in our time, a family’s lineage is of secondary importance.

We cannot tell if the Ghudayyas’ claim of having descended from the Wafa’i family, whose positions they inherited, was a deliberate act. Be that as it may, it was a very proud claim. The Wafa’is owned, among other properties, the
zawiyya
that bore their name:
al zawiyya al-wafa’iyya
. This was a room, usually in the corner of a mosque, for the accommodation of the dervishes, who with their unkempt beards and worn sandals slept on straw mats and subsisted on charity. The Wafa’i
zawiyya
was exceptionally highly regarded, because it was also known as ‘
dar al-Mua’wiyya
’, after the
khalif al-Mua’wiyya
, who had stayed there with his daughter Fatima. A stone memorial engraved with her name still stands there. It was in this
zawiyya
that the Wafa’i Sufi order came into being.
¹⁴

In the latter half of the eighteenth century, the various accounts converge into one that describes the rise of the Husaynis in parallel
with the decreasing power of the Ottoman center. This enabled the family not only to win the most important posts in the city but also to wield influence in the religious and secular centers of power. The post of the
naqib
was theirs for a while, and the function itself grew in importance in the latter half of the eighteenth century; it was equal and in certain cases, as we shall see in our narrative, even greater than that of Istanbul’s official representatives. By that time, the Husaynis were unquestionably one of the leading notable families together with the al-Khalidis, the Jarallahs, the al-Jama’is and others. But the post of the
naqib
was not assured, and the Husaynis would lose it from time to time. Nevertheless, in any history of Jerusalem from the eighteenth century onward, they figure more centrally than any other family or clan.
¹⁵

CHAPTER 1

The Making of a Family

From al-Ghudayya to al-Husayni

On the first day of the year 1765, Mehmet Aga, the chief eunuch in the harem of the sultan, was awakened by a strong but pleasant odor. It was the scent of soap, familiar to him ever since that ‘Arab Abd al-Latif’ (Abd al-Latif II) was appointed
naqib al-ashraf
in Jerusalem. The latter had a small soap manufactory in Jerusalem, and many in the palace had become partial to its soaps and vials of rose water. The chief eunuch was especially fond of soaking in a rose water bath, but his supply had recently run out. Now he got out of bed as briskly as his great bulk allowed and prepared to meet Abd al-Latif’s emissaries. He gave his sleeping servant, a young black eunuch recently arrived from Egypt, a little kick to wake him and sent him to the major–domo to help him sort out the presents intended for the various dignitaries who were regular recipients of Abd al-Latif’s largesse.
¹

The majordomo found the delegation from Jerusalem standing beside the guardhouse that had sprung up near the eunuchs’ quarters and watching open-mouthed as builders and masons completed the conversion of the harem from a traditional Ottoman structure into a baroque-rococo one.
²

Abd al-Latif’s son Abdullah was the delegation’s leader. After the usual greetings, he addressed the chief eunuch as follows: ‘We urge our glorious son, Mehmet Aga, to do his utmost to distribute these gifts in accordance with our wishes, and may Allah prolong his days. To our benefactor,
sheikh al-islam
, a chest of soap, a jar of rose water and six head-coverings …’
³

The list went on: former chief
qadis
, past and present
naqibs al-ashraf
of Istanbul, all received one or two fragrant chests and soft linen caps with the dignitaries’ names embroidered on them by daughters of the family. As on previous occasions, Mehmet was asked to obtain receipts showing that the gifts had reached their destinations. The list was usually made up of eighteen of the imperial capital’s dignitaries. Two chests were always assigned to the
sheikh al-islam
(who appointed local notables to the highest religious posts) to make sure he remembered Abd al-Latif’s four sons and would obtain plum positions for them in the city’s religious hierarchy.

Abdullah spent several days in the bustling capital and called on Zayn al-Abidin, Istanbul’s
naqib al-ashraf
, an exalted official empowered to appoint and discharge any
naqib al-ashraf
in the provincial capitals throughout the empire. Zayn al-Abidin assured Abdullah that the
niqaba
– the post of
naqib al-ashraf
of Jerusalem – would remain in the family, or, more precisely, remain his.
⁴
The authorities also confirmed Abdullah in his post as supervisor of the sanctuary of Nabi Musa.

This time the mission was driven by some urgency: the governor of Damascus harassed the family by threatening to pass the
niqaba
to the Alami family. As noted before, ever since the appointment of Muhib al-Din al-Ghudayya to the post of
mufti
, the Alamis had coveted the post and had actually filled it for a while.

ABD AL-LATIF, FOUNDER OF THE NEW FAMILY

But all that was in the past, and in 1765 Abdullah was thinking about the future. Would he be able to repeat his father’s achievements?, he wondered.

Zayn al-Abidin clearly remembered Abdullah’s father.
Al-Qudsi
– ‘the Jerusalemite’ – was the nickname of the notable who sent him chests of fragrant soaps, sweet rose water and exquisite caps almost every year. The first such delivery arrived in 1740, accompanied by a letter begging for the post of
naqib
to be restored to the Ghudayyas. The letter vilified not only the Alamis but also their allies the Jarallahs, likewise one of the grandest families in the city. With amazing boldness, Abd al-Latif asked not only to have the post of
naqib
restored to him but also his father’s old post of
sheikh al-haram
, guardian of the city’s holy shrines. The letter was kept for several years in the Istanbul
naqib
’s office, until one day the loyalty of the Ghudayyas during the 1703 uprising was brought to mind and the decision was made to accede to Abd al-Latif’s request. Perhaps the sweet scents of the soaps and rose water helped.
⁵

The letter of appointment arrived in the beginning of February 1745, and Abdullah could still quote it verbatim: ‘We hereby command that you be appointed
naqib al-ashraf
of the holy places in Jerusalem, Nablus, Gaza, Ramallah and Jenin. You are to treat respectfully all persons of high lineage. You are to preserve their legal rights …’ and so on and so forth. It was signed: ‘In all humility, the Honorable Ottoman
naqib al-ashraf
, Sayyid Zayn al-Abidin.’
⁶

Once he held these two posts, Abd al-Latif’s sphere of influence stretched beyond Jerusalem. More importantly, the Alamis could not compete with his status and power. Khalil al-Muradi, the
mufti
of Damascus, who knew him personally, would write that Abd al-Latif controlled every aspect of life in Jerusalem, so powerful and dominant had he become.
⁷
But it was not blind fortune that preserved Abd al-Latif’s exalted position – it was his tireless efforts to maintain good relations with the governor of Damascus and the authorities in Istanbul that ensured his standing and influence. He followed closely everything that took place at the sultan’s court, and every possible opponent of the sultan or the
vizier
received gifts from Abd al-Latif.

But times were changing. Abdullah complained to the high official in Istanbul that the source of the trouble lay in Damascus. In 1760 the sultan had appointed a new governor of Damascus, Othman Pasha, a harsh, tyrannical man who had been sent to the region in order to suppress the revolt of Dahir al-Umar, dubbed the ‘King of Galilee’ by the Franciscans in the country. Al-Umar was in fact much more attuned to the people and less ambitious as a king, but he did become a thorn in the empire’s side. This young Palestinian
sheikh
had sprung up and grown strong in the town of Saffuriya, and with his personal charm and well-placed bribes he persuaded the Ottoman authorities to make him governor of Galilee as well as its imperial tax collector. In 1735 he expanded his rule to Nazareth, Marj ibn Amr (the Jezreel Valley) and Nablus.
⁸

When al-Umar expanded his sphere of influence, he threatened the valuable
Hajj
routes, which provided substantial revenues from levies on transit and encampment on the pilgrimage route to Mecca. (They also conferred honor and prestige on the person who protected the journey of the believers on their way to perform one of the five
basic commandments of Islam.) Yet despite his grave infringement of Istanbul’s power, no one could defeat this man. In 1750 he expanded his rule to include Haifa and Tantura. His success encouraged other local potentates to encroach on Ottoman control of the Syrian districts. But it should be understood that what appeared to be the crumbling of imperial control was in reality a struggle for the representation of the empire and the collection of its taxes rather than attempts to displace it as the sovereign power. When a local potentate sought a larger share of the tax revenue, he was not actually challenging the empire. Istanbul’s decentralized, delegated power made such moves possible; only when the empire began to weaken would the rules of the game change, and then the central power would try to deter dominant figures in the provinces from embarking on independent courses.

Decades before, al-Umar had created enough uncertainty to allow relief from tax collection and other forms of annoying governing policies directed from Damascus. This was now over, and with the help of the new governor Damascus restored its position as the center of regional authority. At the time of Abdullah’s visit, the new governor in Damascus began to show satisfactory results in the attempt to contain Dahir al-Umar. He succeeded in strengthening Jerusalem’s attachment to Damascus, and hence to the empire.

But Abdullah complained in Istanbul that the new governor was more concerned with increasing his own wealth at the expense of the local notables than in suppressing the rebellious al-Umar. What Abdullah did not tell his host was that some months before going to Istanbul, he himself had sent emissaries to al-Umar in Acre, proposing cooperation against the tyrannical governor. However, the governor did hear about it, and forbade Abdullah’s father to leave his house – a punishment that was still in force for some time after Abdullah entered the imperial capital. So tyrannical did Damascus’ rule seem to Abdullah that he would have preferred to let his beloved city fall into Dahir al-Umar’s hands. Economic considerations combined with political ones prompted the family to support the Galilean ruler. Abdullah feared that more money would be taken by the governor in Damascus than by al-Umar. Moreover, the family’s fortunes were in decline due to the 1760 earthquake that shook Jerusalem and, although causing little loss of life, destroyed many of the family’s properties.
⁹

Zayn al-Abidin reassured the young man, saying that his father’s connections in the capital would secure the family’s predominance in Jerusalem, even if they were at odds with Damascus. The Istanbul
naqib
, like other high imperial officials, habitually made such promises, not only to the Ghudayyas but to their rivals. The old imperial method of divide and rule enabled the central government to maintain control over its outlying provinces. Still, the family’s great wealth and generous gifts served to secure an advantage over its rivals. This was a ruthless competition for limited resources and properties capable of sustaining only a handful of aristocratic families in Jerusalem.

The power of these families derived from the income they received for managing the sanctuaries and for the religious services they provided to the populace, and they strove to pass these posts and their properties on to their heirs. Abd al-Latif succeeded in conferring a prime position on his offspring, and his son had to work to keep it. The fate of the family hung in the balance. Since the Ghudayyas’ income came indirectly from the sultan himself, their lavish gifts were a kind of
quid pro quo
. Since the reign of Suleiman the Magnificent, the sultans had invested greatly in the holy places in Jerusalem, a good deal of their investment being in the form of rewards to the people who looked after the shrines, such as the
sheikh al-haram
, the
mufti
and others. So far as we know, the Ghudayyas had no sources of income outside the city walls. Still, the management of holy places and clerical posts was sufficient to make them wealthy by both contemporary and modern standards.