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Although it must be conceded that global market forces and increased ad- ministrative centralization did indeed have a negative e#ect on the peas- ants’ circumstances, I challenge the prevailing idea that it was largely a matter of exacerbating a pre-existing situation.4 Rather, these factors ef- fected a transformation in what was hitherto a relatively more equitable relationship between the peasantry and local elites. I take my lead from OTTOMAN REFORM, ISLAM, Beshara Doumani’s pioneering study,5 in which he addresses socio-eco- AND PALESTINE’S PEASANTRY nomic factors related to the region’s integration into the global economy during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and how they impacted Erik Eliav Freas Nablus and its environs. In so doing, he paints a much more nuanced pic- ture of the situation of Palestine’s peasantry than that generally provided by historians dealing with nineteenth-century Syria and Palestine. Too o"en, the tendency has been to skim over the state of a#airs prior to the intensi!cation of European economic penetration and the advent of the Tanzimat reforms. Inasmuch as I take my lead from Doumani, I would acknowledge historical distinctions between the Nablusi region and other parts of Palestine. Nonetheless, given that what follows in this article is intended primarily as a !rst step in a reexamination of peasant-elite rela- When considering the situation of the Arab peasantry in nineteenth-centu- tions during the period in question, and that there did exist at the time a ry Ottoman Syria (inclusive of present-day Palestine),1 a “self-evident” truth sense of Palestine as constituting a distinct and coherent geographical en- seems to have developed that rural peasants were exploited and oppressed tity,6 I believe it is legitimate to speak of that region as a whole with respect by local elites—both urban notables and rural shaykhs. Yet was it really as to the aforementioned thesis. simple as that? In the period before incentives generated by global market As a corollary to this thesis, I argue that changes in the nature of the forces that were brought about by increased European economic activity relationship between the traditional elite and the peasantry altered the came to de!ne economic relations between the two—likewise, before the way in which most Muslim peasants understood their religious identity, in Ottoman Tanzimat reforms saw the establishment of formalized adminis- connection with a gradual formalization of Islamic practice. Prior to trative structures—a case could be made that the authority of urban nota- changes that took place over the course of the nineteenth century, the au- bles and rural shaykhs was, to a signi!cant degree, dependent on its tacit thority of notables largely manifested itself in their collective role as me- acceptance by the peasantry, such that the latter was not entirely without diators between formal Islamic institutions and the peasantry. leverage.2 One might even argue that this authority was something that had, Correspondingly, religious identity among the peasantry was generally in a sense, to be earned, that the peasantry expected urban notables and conceived of in a relatively informal manner. Most peasants had limited rural shaykhs to behave in a manner worthy of their authority. Particularly direct a$liation or interaction with formal Islamic institutions; corre- in the case of the latter, the fact that there o"en existed rival claimants for spondingly, their understanding of Islam largely conformed to what were the loyalty of constituents would seem to lend support to this thesis.3 more or less vaguely de!ned notions as to what constituted proper Islamic behavior—a set of values o"en re%ective of cultural norms or broadly con-

Erik Freas is Assistant Professor of History in the Department of Social Sciences at City ceived ideas about social justice. For most peasants, authority !gures such University-Borough of Manhattan Community College.

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as rural shaykhs were in a very real sense the “face” of the Islamic author- !ned ideals for accepted behavior, notions of justice, and levels of account- ity represented by urban-based institutions, likewise in terms of what con- ability to the collective community.”11 stituted proper Islamic practice. Together with urban notables, these For urban notables, the case was somewhat di#erent, and more formal shaykhs mediated between the peasantry and the more formal Islamic in- Islamic credentials—one’s knowledge of the Qur’an, or how many times one stitutions of the urban milieu,7 and it was their ability to do this that to no had made pilgrimage—did in fact carry considerable weight. Nonetheless, small extent earned them their positions of authority. Related to this, said expectations similar to those applying to rural shaykhs applied to urbanites authority was very much dependent on its tacit acceptance by the peas- as well, both when dealing with non-elites in the towns (i.e., townsfolk), antry, something, it is argued, that was in turn dependent on whether and, perhaps more importantly for our purposes, with respect to town-vil- these local elites were seen as warranting the peasants’ respect. While the lage relations, where “[g]enerosity and cooperation from the notability cre- measure of elites’ worthiness in this sense might be understood in terms ated bonds of loyalty between urban and rural sectors.”12 In sum, then, both of whether they were “good” Muslims, the peasantry did not reckon such urban and rural notables were expected to represent the interests of the things in a formalistic way. Certainly relevant, especially with respect to larger community when dealing with the Ottoman authorities.13 In this re- urban notables, was whether one held a position within an Islamic institu- spect, it should also be noted that, at least until the middle of the nineteenth tion and/or carried a reputation as a learned and pious Muslim. More im- century, the distinction between elite and non-elite was arguably not as portant, however, was the degree to which one behaved in what would rigid as it would later become. To begin with, both elites and non-elites were have been considered by the peasantry as an appropriately “Islamic” man- understood as integral to the society as a whole—the social gap between the ner—that is, whether they were generous, hospitable, fair, and honest, leaders and the larger population was small, and as noted by ‘Adel Manna‘, among other traits. Formal practice and training would not have consti- “between the apex and the base of the social pyramid [there was] limited tuted the only estimation, indeed, probably not even the most important salience, particularly in rural society, which constituted the demographic one by which one’s worth as a Muslim was measured. majority.”14 Indeed, particularly in the countryside, the delineation between &is was particularly true of rural shaykhs, a category inclusive of elites and non-elites—that is, between shaykhs and peasants—was not al- both nahiya and village shaykhs. &e former were powerful local shaykhs, ways clear; nor, for that matter, was it clear among the peasant themselves, whose jurisdictions corresponded to administrative sub-districts known many of whom were semi-nomadic and occupied a social space between as nahiya.8 As of the beginning of the nineteenth century, in general, the the more purely nomadic Bedouin tribes and more land-rooted peasantry, nahiya shaykhs were responsible for collecting taxes, maintaining law and or fallahin. To put it another way, social categories, much like religious ones, order, and dispensing justice. In turn, each village in the nahiye had a vil- were relatively %uid and individuals could, up to a point, move between lage shaykh responsible for running local a#airs.9 Even where technically them. &is was soon to change. appointed by the Ottoman government, however, it was usually only with As the nineteenth century progressed, the interests of both urban no- the general consent of those under their authority that the shaykhs were tables and rural shaykhs became increasingly tied to external economic able to maintain their respective positions—as the American missionary forces. &eir political authority became embedded in formal administrative Elihu Grant put it, their positions were con!rmed “by acclamation or by structures, such that they became beholden !rst and foremost to the general consent.”10 Based on the aforementioned “Islamic” criteria, rural Ottoman center in Istanbul. Correspondingly, the amount of leverage peas- shaykhs were expected to be fair when meting out justice, resolute when ants had in their relationships to them greatly diminished. Perhaps more confronting adversity, pious in their own personal behavior, and generous importantly, social categories began to crystallize and the division between with peasants experiencing hard times. Put in more technical terms, their local elites and the peasantry widened. In connection with the new eco- actions “were circumscribed by social and cultural boundaries that de- nomic opportunities brought about by European economic penetration, the

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former increasingly used their collective position of authority to exploit a an important primary source for some of the secondary sources refer- peasantry with whom they felt fewer ties. Rural shaykhs, now in the guise of enced here, I do not directly utilize them here. In part, this choice re%ects absentee landlords, along with urban-based creditors, were increasingly the uneven and inconsistent use that the peasantry made of the shari‘a driven by commercial considerations. Correspondingly, the criterion deter- courts in Palestine. Doumani observes that in Nablus, up to 1830, there is mining elite status came to be one based almost entirely on wealth, particu- a virtual absence of court cases involving the peasantry. Signi!cantly, a"er larly wealth acquired through commerce. &e old rules of patronage and that date—and in keeping with the changes discussed here—the number mediation no longer applied, and the relationship between local elites and the of peasant-related cases appearing in the court records in Nablus rose con- peasantry became one wherein the latter was exploited by the former. In sum, siderably; by the late 1850s, peasant involvement in legal proceedings had “turn[ed] into a %ood that showed no signs of abating, hence signaling the [t]he new social elite had economic and political interests that di#ered culmination of the hinterland’s integration into urban legal and cultural from those of the traditional leaders…. [&erefore, it] was not to be spheres.”19 Judith Tucker observes that during the eighteenth and nine- expected that the new elite would [challenge the Ottoman] authorities teenth centuries, the notable class was over-represented in the sijillat.20 that had been responsible for its rise, enabling it to consolidate its eco- Dror Ze’evi notes the problematic nature of the sijillat as a source for social nomic position as part of the Tanzimat and modernization policies.15 history, inasmuch as they provide few clues as to how representative they &ese developments also saw a growing intrusion among the peasantry of are of the society at large, especially regarding certain segments of the formal urban institutions, inclusive of Islamic ones, in support of notable population.21 In a similar vein, Colette Establet and Jean-Paul Pascual, interests; for their part, as peasants became less able to negotiate their situ- with respect to their survey of Damascene society around the year 1700, ation directly with urban notables and rural shaykhs, they found it in- likewise note the di$culty in knowing what percentage of the population creasingly necessary to seek recourse in formal Islamic institutions, in the is actually represented in the court records, and the likelihood that certain hope of achieving a modicum of justice. All of these factors had the e#ect groups are in fact under-represented.22 of formalizing the peasantry’s sense of religious identity. As elaborated &is is certainly not to maintain that further investigation of the sijil- below, Islam, until then largely understood on the basis of local folk prac- lat would not prove fruitful with an eye to better ascertaining the degree 16 tices, became more formalized over time: As a consequence, peasants to which the peasantry took recourse to the shari‘a courts during the pe- came to conceive of their identity on the basis of a more orthodox under- riod in question. Additionally, based on the di#erent local histories of dif- 17 standing of Islam. Not surprisingly, perceptions of the notable class ferent communities in Palestine, there is compelling reason to believe that among the peasantry became increasingly negative—alongside the for- there existed a good deal of regional variation regarding peasant attitudes malization of Islamic practice among the peasantry, notables came to towards the shari‘a courts. While the studies of Nablus conducted by present a point of contrast, and there would be a growing perception that Doumani and Tucker suggest that during the early part of the nineteenth their behavior was something decidedly un-Islamic. &is point will be century the peasantry of Jabal Nablus was reluctant to seek recourse in the taken up in more detail below. shari‘a courts, Amy Singer’s conclusions with respect to sixteenth- and Before proceeding further, a word is needed concerning the sources seventeenth-century Jerusalem and its environs suggest that this was not used in this study. Simply put, historians seeking to reconstruct the situa- the case everywhere. While no doubt much had changed between the sev- tion of the peasantry in Palestine during the Ottoman period have had enteenth century, on the one hand, and the eighteenth and early-nine- 18 limited sources with which to work. Probably the most important type, teenth centuries (the period we are interested in here), on the other, it and one which historians have indeed put to great use, has been the sijillat, would seem that, based on Singer’s study, such factors as village proximity or shari‘a court records. Yet apart from the fact that they have constituted and security (or lack thereof) of travel were not entirely irrelevant.23

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As such, and with an eye toward ascertaining the nature of relations be- collective position might be guaranteed, their ability to exercise authority tween the peasantry and formal Islamic institutions, I have focused primar- was to a large degree dependent on the compliance of the peasantry and ily on the accounts of European and North American travelers on the sub- townsfolk. Notably, that support was also a means by which local elites ject of Palestine’s peasants. While indicative of a source type inherently were able to resist the occasional attempt by the Ottoman center to reassert problematic—inasmuch as they are largely impressionistic and are certainly its authority. A good example of this is the rebellion that took place in re%ective of Western biases—such accounts nevertheless have value, even if 1824-1826, which saw Palestine’s peasantry—under the leadership of local too o"en consideration of them has been limited to studies aimed at expos- elites—successfully resist the attempt of the recently appointed governor ing their “Orientalist” character.24 If used judiciously, such accounts can of Damascus to impose a levy on taxes.32 By the same token, both urban provide certain insights not readily available from other sources. Westerners, notables and rural shaykhs occasionally found themselves under pressure for instance, were fascinated by Palestine’s peasantry (in many cases be- from below to resist government authority. &is was certainly the case cause of a tendency to con%ate them with peasants depicted in the Bible25) during the time of Ibrahim Pasha’s occupation of Palestine; when called to a much greater degree than was the case with Ottoman subjects.26 In this upon by the pasha’s representative to defend Jerusalem against a peasant respect, Western travelogues and the like arguably !ll a gap le" by other uprising, the notables replied that “it was not a wise policy for them to source types. For instance, the sijillat, even when dealing with cases involv- !ght against the fellaheen [sic] and … pleaded all kinds of excuses, but es- ing peasants, demonstrate little interest regarding questions of motivation pecially the lack of arms.”33 Peasant support was especially critical with and background.27 By contrast, it was not uncommon for Western travelers respect to the strong internal rivalries that o"en existed between di#erent and pilgrims to devote entire sections, articles, and even stand-alone vol- notables and rural shaykhs. Each sought to attract as many supporters as umes to the topic of Palestine’s peasantry,28 and while sometimes these were possible; correspondingly, a great deal of e#ort was devoted to cultivating only too obviously re%ective of religiously derived preconceptions, as o"en good relations with members of the peasantry in order to solicit their as not, they were written with the purpose of correcting some of the biases backing, o"en via patronage.34 It also meant arming them.35 To a large and prejudices commonly held by Westerners.29 extent, then, the peasantry expected local elites to look out for their inter- ests as well as maintain harmony among the members. With respect to the Town and Village latter, this mostly meant settling disputes, and in doing so local elites gen- As of the beginning of the nineteenth century, Islam as practiced by the erally exhibited a great deal of %exibility in their application of Islamic law. peasantry was of a relatively informal nature, de!ned more by local, tradi- &is was particularly true in the countryside, where rural shaykhs were in tional practices than by textual legalism. Among other things, this re%ect- fact more likely to base their rulings on local custom than shari‘a. ed the nature of the relationship between the peasantry and local elites &is is not to say that formal Islamic institutions were of little impor- (urban notables and rural shaykhs), wherein the latter acted as mediators tance. Within the cities and larger towns, the individuals charged with between formal Islamic institutions and the peasantry. &e seventeenth upholding law and order during this period were generally members of the and eighteenth centuries had been a period marked by increasing Ottoman ‘ulama, a group which in many respects overlapped with the urban notable 36 decentralization,30 a time during which the Porte was no longer able to class. Signi!cantly, the holding of religious positions and the ability to directly exert its authority over the outer provinces, and local elites be- provide patronage were strongly interrelated. &us, for instance, through came the principle administrators of the Empire, particularly in the Arab their control of pilgrim hostels, notables were o"en able to provide various 37 provinces.31 Inasmuch as there existed little by way of formal Ottoman forms of assistance to low-paid religious functionaries. Related to this, institutions or mechanisms during this period by which local elites’ relations between elites and non-elites tended to be very personalized. Even where exploitative, it was important that interactions between the two at

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least appear amicable and intimate.38 Particularly if acting in the role of peasant di#erentiation, the commoditization of land, and the expansion qadi—Islamic judge—it was also expected that the urban notable in ques- of money-lending practices.47 At the same time, the coastal area was sub- tion should behave fairly; this was especially the case if he was acting as an jected to an in%ux of European manufactured goods, primarily textiles,48 arbiter between members of the peasantry and government o$cials.39 against which local production found it di$cult to compete.49 &ough the In many respects, the same expectations de!ned relations between interior was able to resist European penetration for a while by concentrat- town and countryside, and indeed, through the early part of the nine- ing on production aimed at local markets as well as trade related to the teenth century, a fairly equitable relationship existed between the various hajj—the northern route to Mecca passed nearby50—it too was inevitably urban centers in Palestine and their respective “satellite” villages. drawn into the global economy.51 &us, as market relations intensi!ed be- Depending on the town, it was not unusual that the surrounding villages tween the coastal areas and the interior, a snowball e#ect ensued, as pro- had the upper hand. Hebron, for instance, was o"en subjected to attack by duction increasingly shi"ed from local to export markets. &is process forces from the neighboring villages.40 Likewise, Jerusalem o"en found was accelerated by the increased importation of European manufactured itself at the mercy of militias made up of neighboring villagers under the goods, which served to undercut respective local production.52 Economic leadership of the Abu Ghawsh family, who during much of the nineteenth activity in the interior increasingly turned to the production of cash crops, century controlled the main avenues from the coast to Jerusalem.41 and merchants in the interior soon began acting as middlemen for mer- Palestinian natives commented to the American missionary Elihu Grant chants along the coast, in e#ect becoming their agents for in!ltrating the at the beginning of the twentieth century that “half a century or more interior. &is process was augmented by the attempt on the part of coastal ago…the fellahin were o"en in the ascendancy and the city people glad to merchants to cut out intermediaries and deal directly with the local peas- treat with them.”42 Yet even by the middle of the nineteenth century, in antry through the provision of pro!t-related incentives.53 connection with certain transformations taking place related to the grow- During the same period in which these economic changes were taking ing European economic penetration of the region, villages were increas- place, the Ottoman Porte initiated the Tanzimat reforms, inspired in large ingly coming to be dominated by neighboring urban centers. &ese chang- part by a desire to modernize along European lines. Ibrahim Pasha, fol- es would see the urban notable class transformed into a merchant-dominated lowing Egypt’s temporary takeover of those territories between 1832 and elite, one driven primarily by commercial considerations and rooted in 1841, had earlier initiated e#orts at modernization in Syria and Palestine. newly created administrative institutions. While this new elite (new in the A"er reasserting its authority, the Ottoman government continued and sense of having a di#erent basis) would eventually come to include the even extended those reforms. In concert with the changes brought about more powerful of the rural shaykhs (treated more fully below), I !rst con- by increased European-related economic activity,54 these reforms, which sider how these changes impacted the urban notable class. were both political and economic in nature, inevitably undermined the In Palestine, European economic penetration began with the coastal existing criterion determining elite status—that is, one’s position with re- areas43 and was initially mostly based on the cultivation of cotton for ex- spect to Islamic institutions and one’s reputation de!ned largely in Islamic port to Europe, primarily France, as well as to Egypt and Damascus.44 &e terms—in favor of a new one derived largely of commercial success.55 same period also saw an increase in European demand for various cereals, Members of the notable class were able on the basis of their positions un- particularly in Britain following the repeal of the Corn Laws in 1846.45 In der the old order to take advantage of the new economic opportunities e#ect, this constituted the !rst step toward the region’s integration into that now presented themselves. the world economy and initiated socioeconomic changes associated with In large part this shi" re%ected the generally capital-intensive nature the related intensi!cation of commercial agriculture.46 Externally, this of such opportunities, whereby only established individuals and families meant a growing dependency on world markets; internally, it meant (that is, the urban notable class) were able to take advantage of them. Yet

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even when not having direct access to capital, members of the notable Functioning as they did as intermediaries between the appointed gover- class had certain advantages. Many urban notables were able, for example, nors and the local population, it was o"en only with the assistance of ur- through their monopolization of the management of waqfs and dominant ban notables that other Tanzimat reforms could be implemented.67 It was positions in the shari‘a courts, to acquire waqf properties for revenue- fairly easy, then, to ensure that such reforms were carried out in such way generating purposes.56 Additionally, most urban notables (and rural as to serve the notables’ own interests.68 &rough the administrative coun- shaykhs) had over the course of time established extensive, socially based cils, for example, they were able to gain control of the allocation of tax commercial networks, which they were now able to exploit in competing collecting duties, a particularly lucrative function and traditionally the with outside merchants for the rural surpluses of cash crops, most notably prerogative of the more powerful rural shaykhs,69 in their role as tax farm- grain and cotton.57 Finally, and perhaps most signi!cantly, this developing ers.70 Following the Vilayet Law (Law of the Provinces) of 1864, tax farms new elite were able to co-opt what were newly created political structures. were allocated by the majalis al-idara to the highest bidders, who inevita- In short, they were able to adapt, and while the basis of their elite status bly were drawn from their own members.71 Ottoman authorities in might have changed—likewise, their exact place in the pecking order—the Istanbul quickly recognized that the councils were actually blocking re- same notable families might, by and large, still be found among the upper forms—hence the Provincial Law of 1858 which sought, among other elite. As Doumani notes, the old ruling political families were transformed things, to concentrate power once again in the hands of the governors.72 into a “new merchant-dominated elite[, one based on a]...%uid alliance be- &e point of the new law was to ensure that the majalis al-idara coordi- tween in%uential members of the merchant community, key ruling fami- nated more e#ectively with the local governors. Nonetheless, the councils lies (both urban and rural), and the top religious leaders.”58 continued to prove an e#ective means by which urban notables were able Probably the most signi!cant new political structures created in con- to control the pace and nature of reform.73 nection with the Tanzimat reforms were the advisory councils, introduced Prior to the Tanzimat period, villages had been largely self-sustaining in 184059 with the objective of giving local communities a consultative role and had not depended on the larger towns for their livelihood.74 But eco- in local administration. Redesignated as administrative councils, or maja- nomic integration together with the urban notables’ appropriation of the lis al-idara,60 with the Provincial Regulation of 1858, these were essentially new Ottoman administrative structures—the majalis al-idara, in particu- established in order to better enable the Ottoman center to maintain con- lar—quickly undermined whatever leverage the peasant class had.75 trol of the outer provinces. In actual fact, they became a means by which Whereas a notable or shaykh’s ability to exert in%uence among the peas- the local elite was able to consolidate its authority at the local level.61 &e antry had in large part depended on his ability to provide patronage, as purpose of these councils was to reduce the autonomous powers of the well as the respect he enjoyed as a pious Muslim, it was now increasingly provincial governors,62 and while in theory they were nonetheless answer- de!ned within the context of the new administrative structures. Once able to them, almost from the start, their ability to participate in adminis- having appropriated control of these structures, urban notables (as well as trative decisions and challenge gubernatorial authority proved far-reach- those rural shaykhs incorporated within this new merchant-dominated ing.63 &is was even more the case given that governors were generally elite) no longer needed the support of townsfolk or the peasantry, whether appointed for fairly short terms, and thus o"en remained relatively unfa- tacit or overt. &is tendency was further reinforced by the fact that, as ur- miliar with local conditions until just prior to leaving.64 As such, the coun- ban notables living in the same urban centers found common interest in cils were able to exert a strong in%uence over them. &e great majority of competing with merchants from rival ones (not to mention foreign mer- those sitting on the councils came from urban notable families,65 and while chants based in the coastal cities), the internal rivalries between them in theory they were supposed to represent the interests of the people at large, quickly diminished. What rivalries did remain increasingly played out in it quickly became apparent that their primary concern was with their own.66 the majalis al-idara, of which most local elites—not only urban notables,

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but the more important rural shaykhs as well—were now members.76 As with the purpose of giving the Ottoman government greater control over the possibility of violent confrontation between rival local elites became miri, or state, land so as to better check the growth of large private-land more remote,77 their relative status became less dependent on their ability ownership, actually had the opposite e#ect. Fearful of taxation and con- to employ actual physical force. Consequently, they found it less necessary scription, peasants with long-standing traditional rights allowed members to solicit the support of non-elites for the purpose of creating militias, of the urban and rural elite to register large areas of land on their behalf, something that had usually involved a certain degree of largesse. &e posi- with the consequence that they became, in e#ect, the latter’s personal tion of the urban notables was further institutionalized by the creation of properties85 (though this would seem to have been more of a problem in the Ottoman Parliament; from among its ranks were drawn representatives the lowland areas than in the hill regions, where small plots and individu- who were thus better able to promote their collective interests in Istanbul.78 al ownership and/or usufruct was more common86). &is factor, combined &e majalis al-idara also provided an e#ective mechanism by which with the corruption and ineptitude of Ottoman administrators, contrib- urban notables were able to extend their authority over their respective uted to a tendency for land to accumulate in the hands of wealthy urban hinterlands, signi!cantly, in a manner that circumvented the intermedi- notables, a process further facilitated by their control of the majalis al- ary role of rural shaykhs.79 &e various commercial networks established idara.87 &is also had the e#ect of depriving the peasantry of much of their under the old order as discussed above constituted an additional factor in land usage rights, with many peasants being converted into sharecroppers this process. In much the same manner that they facilitated their exploita- and hired laborers.88 Compounding the problem was the fact that, too of- tion, they provided the framework through which the various hinterlands ten, peasants found themselves unable to pay their taxes. As a result, they were eventually absorbed into the political, economic, and social nexuses were o"en forced to borrow money, and eventually, under the burden of of their respective urban centers.80 &is process would prove especially im- tax and debt, to sell their land to wealthy notables.89 portant with respect to the towns of the interior. &rough existing net- works, for example, the urban notables of Nablus were able to integrate the Rural Shaykhs surrounding villages fully within that city’s rapidly expanding soap indus- Not surprisingly, all of this saw a diminution of the power of the rural 81 try during the latter part of the nineteenth century. &e corresponding shaykhs, who since at least the sixteenth century had exercised a good deal commercialization of agriculture along with the growing pervasiveness of of authority within their respective nahiya and villages,90 by collecting 82 money lending, on the basis of which town merchants had greater access taxes and ensuring peasant production, but also by representing villagers’ to ever increasing crop surpluses, only served to facilitate the consolida- interests vis-à-vis Ottoman authorities and neighboring cities and towns. 83 tion of notables’ control over the surrounding villages. Added to this, &e latter role was re%ected in the common title of ra’is al-fallahin, literally mechanisms such as the salam contract—which allowed notables to charge “head of the peasants.”91 &ese were men who, by virtue of their age, experi- 84 peasants a disguised interest —further served to institutionalize elite- ence, and local prominence, had come to represent their fellow villagers peasant relations while integrating satellite villages within respective ur- before the Ottoman authorities.92 Signi!cantly, while publicly con!rmed ban legal and political spheres. by the authorities,93 all indications are that shaykhs were essentially cho- &e exploitation of the peasantry took other forms as well, not least sen by their fellow villagers, and were only able to maintain their status so the expropriation of their land. As already noted, control of the majalis long as they continued to enjoy their support.94 While they would, by the al-idara enabled the urban notables to in%uence the manner in which nineteenth century, lose the title, both their function and the nature of other reforms were implemented, for instance, those related to tax collec- their status would remain in many respects the same, even if the basis tion. In like manner notables took advantage of those reforms dealing underlying their role as tax collectors would eventually be greatly altered.95 with land registration. &us, the Ottoman Land Code of 1858, enacted

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In any case, the authority enjoyed by the rural shaykhs, whether at the urban-based merchant elite.101 Added to this, many rural shaykhs took ad- nahiya or village level, was su$ciently dependent on the support of the vantage of the 1858 Ottoman Land Code to acquire large estates. Too o"en, peasantry, such that the former might reasonably be expected to keep the such individuals came to be absentee landlords, e#ectively severing what- latter’s interests at heart. Relevant in this respect is that rural shaykhs en- ever personal connections they had with the peasantry. &e less powerful joyed a certain degree of leverage vis-à-vis the urban notables, something village shaykhs, for their part, were stripped of their judicial powers and o"en enough re%ected in what were generally equitable relations between converted into government-appointed mukhtars. As such, their positions the rural peasantry and those residing in nearby towns.96 Over the course were entirely dependent on the Ottoman government. Whether through of the nineteenth century, this situation was to change in two important the one process or the other, the rural shaykhs were e#ectively incorpo- respects. First, for reasons already noted, the role of the rural shaykhs as rated into the Ottoman bureaucratic system.102 intermediaries between town and village was signi!cantly undermined. At this point, we might examine more closely the manner in which the Second, their authority within the villages themselves was directly diluted role of the rural shaykh changed, as this perhaps best exempli!es the pro- by the Tanzimat reforms, more speci!cally, by the Vilayet Law of 1864, cess considered until now—that is, the process whereby the relationship which abolished the o$ces of both nahiya shaykh and village shaykh in between local elites and the peasantry was radically altered. Even more terms of allocating them any speci!c function. than the writ of urban notables, prior to the changes discussed above, the We might at this point consider what was probably the chief function authority of rural shaykhs was to a great extent dependent on the peas- of rural shaykhs—at least from the perspective of the Ottoman govern- antry’s support. We might start by considering the actual living condi- ment prior to the period of reform. Since at least the seventeenth century, tions of the peasantry. Well into the latter half of the nineteenth century, it government revenues had been collected largely through tax farms, or ilt- was arguably the case that the o"-used phrase “downtrodden peasant” izamat. Essentially, the government “farmed” out the right to collect taxes was something of an overstatement.103 Indeed, numerous Westerners—ex- by selling the privilege, the price paid being equivalent to the revenue es- actly those one might expect to take for granted the truth underlying the timated by the government as corresponding to the territory in question. cliché of a destitute and oppressed peasantry104—described the situation of Any revenue the tax farmer collected beyond that constituted a pro!t.97 the peasantry as anything but deprived. Elizabeth Anne Finn, the wife of Prior to the period of reform, tax farming had largely been the prerogative a British consul stationed in Palestine during the !rst half of the nine- of rural shaykhs,98 individuals who, inasmuch as their authority was teenth century, characterized the peasantry of the interior as “sturdy somewhat dependent on the support of the peasantry, were unlikely to mountaineers [who] had never been subjected to the iron hand of despo- abuse the privilege. By the mid-nineteenth century, however, as already tism by their Turkish rulers.”105 &e British traveler Laurence Oliphant, noted above, the urban elite was increasingly taking on this role. who visited Palestine during the 1870s, characterized the peasantry as “an Signi!cantly, their authority, unlike that of the rural shaykhs, was not tied energetic and very stalwart race, with immense powers of endurance,”106 to the peasantry, but rather depended almost solely on the institutions of while another Western traveler, who visited Palestine during roughly the provincial government—in particular, the majalis al-idara—created same period, described them as “scarcely less wild and lawless than the through the Tanzimat reforms.99 In addition to opening the peasantry to Bedawin [sic]…[as] a rough, athletic, and turbulent race—mostly armed abuse by individuals minimally beholden to them,100 the new situation saw with gun and dirk.”107 &e latter went on to describe them “[as] robust and a diminution in the ability (and incentive) of rural shaykhs to serve as rigorous, [noting that] much might be hoped for from them if they were mediators between the peasantry and the urban-based notables. Some did brought under the in%uence of liberal institutions, and if they had exam- continue to carry out this function, but these generally shi"ed their base ples around them of the industry and enterprise of Western Europe.”108 of operations to the larger towns, e#ectively becoming part of the new Such descriptions would seem borne out by the !erce resistance elicited

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from the peasantry by the Egyptian subjugation of Palestine beginning in which, the peasantry o"en took to “roping o#” large plots of land for their 1832; Palestine’s peasants greatly resented Egyptian reforms aimed at cen- own personal use.117 tralizing authority, imposing conscription, and granting political equality It was o"en the case that the peasantry, as represented by di#erent to non-Muslims.109 Particularly relevant to our discussion is that this resis- clans, were feuding with one another, usually in support of rival shaykhs118 tance eventually evolved into a coordinated rebellion under the leadership or that neighboring villages were compelled to form coalitions in order to of the urban notables and rural shaykhs, both of whom were fearful that the better protect themselves against Bedouin tribes.119 &e need to form mili- reforms initiated by the Egyptians would inevitably see their positions of tias was o"en paramount; more important from the standpoint of the wel- authority greatly undermined. More than simply enjoying strong peasant fare of the peasantry, it usually entailed the provision of substantial pa- support in this, it was arguably the case that local elites were compelled by tronage. As noted by Moshe Ma’oz, a typical militia might consist of as the peasantry to revolt, and this in spite of the fact that many of the reforms many as 200,000 armed peasants.120 Indeed, the history of Palestine dur- the Egyptians sought to implement would likely have bene!ted them.110 ing much of the seventeenth, eighteenth, and early nineteenth centuries A missionary visiting during the middle part of the century described was de!ned by constant struggle between various peasant factions.121 A the inhabitants of one village as “industrious and thriving” and went on to notable example of this was in the period following the expulsion of the describe the surrounding country as “!lled up with their %ourishing or- Egyptians in 1841, which temporarily resulted in a power vacuum, one chards…[a] thousand reapers, gleaners, and carriers were abroad…the that saw a !erce struggle between various notables and shaykhs. children at play, or watching the %ocks and herds, which were allowed to Correspondingly, respective families found it necessary to mobilize peas- follow the gleaners. But no description can reproduce such a tableau. It ant militias for support.122 As a consequence, peasants were generally indi- must be seen, heard, and enjoyed to be appreciated.”111 Certainly it was not vidually armed, usually with a gun in addition to a short sword.123 &e very uncommon to hear a town or village described as “%ourishing,”112 or to fact of a widely armed peasantry would certainly have acted as a constraint !nd depictions such as those of one mid-nineteenth century traveler, who, on the authority of rural shaykhs. Tellingly, when Ibrahim Pasha called on approaching Nablus, noted the vales “clad with olives, full of gardens upon the rural shaykhs to disarm the peasantry following Egypt’s inva- and orange groves with palm-trees, and watered by plenteous rills.”113 &is sion of Syria and Palestine, it was an imperative they were quite reluctant is not to say that there were not peasants who were less prosperous, though to carry out.124 We might add here that urban notables were o"en under o"en these resided in areas dominated by semi-inhabited abandoned vil- pressure to enter into alliances with the more powerful rural shaykhs, lages;114 as such, they may well have re%ected more situations of transition something which served to strengthen the latter’s position—likewise, that than evidence of overall decline and destitution, though certainly at times of the peasantry vis-à-vis urban dwellers.125 it also re%ected the fact that areas still subject to Bedouin harassment Rural shaykhs were expected to look a"er the welfare of the peasantry, tended not to have more fully developed settlements.115 Relevant also in both in mediating between the villages and neighboring urban centers this respect were the circumstances at the time of visiting—thus, and in maintaining law and order within the villages themselves. Of Napoleon’s invasion of Palestine at the beginning of the nineteenth cen- course, as already discussed, they were also responsible for collecting tax- tury devastated the countryside, as did that of Ibrahim Pasha several de- es, yet even in this respect the peasantry was not without leverage. Evasion cades later.116 In any event, to the extent that semi-inhabited villages were an of payment, for instance, was o"en not such a di$cult matter, especially to indication that the country was underpopulated, this was not always a bad the extent that shaykhs lacked backing from the Ottoman center.126 If the thing for the peasantry. John Lewis Burckhardt, while visiting Syria and situation were su$ciently dire, a member of the peasantry might right- Palestine during the early part of the nineteenth century, commented that fully seek the protection of his shaykh. If such a course proved ill advised, there was o"en more land than people who required it, as a consequence of the peasant might alternatively abandon him and seek the protection of

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another shaykh;127 indeed, it was not entirely uncommon for peasants to more by tradition and recognized practice than legalism, and o"en enough abandon their farms, sometimes even entire villages, for the mountains, incorporating folk religious practices. In most villages, for instance, one towns, or even neighboring countries, such as Egypt.128 In many respects, was more likely to !nd a shrine (maqam) dedicated to saints (wali) than a the relationship between shaykh and peasant was one of mutual obliga- proper mosque.134 &is is not to say that religion was not important. As tion. Certainly this was evident in the expectation that shaykhs behave observed by the missionary Elihu Grant, “Eastern life simply [could not] hospitably, particularly in their dealings with travelers.129 Likewise, they be understood apart from religion. And yet, the natives of the country were expected to look out for the welfare of those peasants in their charge, [were] not, strictly speaking, theological in their way of thinking.”135 helping them out during di$cult times, for instance, by providing seed While such a characterization no doubt re%ected something of an following a bad harvest or making good on a peasant’s debt when he was Orientalist outlook—that is, one that over-emphasized the supposed cen- unable to.130 A particularly interesting responsibility o"en expected of ru- trality of Islam—it was also indicative of the fact that for most peasants, ral shaykhs was the provision of a kind of assurance with respect to com- Islam in many ways constituted an extremely %uid framework inclusive of mercial and political dealings involving peasants; in e#ect, they would a range of societal and cultural values. Put another way, “Islamic” was adopt the role of surety, or ka!, guaranteeing that the terms of a commer- what was good and correct and proper; as Elizabeth Anne Finn observed, cial contract or negotiated truce were carried out, if necessary, at their own most peasants in Palestine were largely ignorant of the Qur’an, and most expense. Importantly, the ability of a shaykh to take on this role depended of what they knew about Islam, they picked up from their shaykhs.136 in no small part on his reputation for honor and honesty.131 Another simi- In terms of its content, Islam—as understood by the peasantry—con- lar obligation of shaykhs with respect to peasants—and one that also re- sisted primarily of a set of legal and cultural norms, perhaps best de!ned %ected strongly on their sense of honor—was that represented by the prac- by the term ‘urf, which mostly drew on local social practices. For the most tice of dakhal, or the taking of sanctuary, whereby a peasant under threat part, it was these norms that provided the legal framework by which the might verbally evoke the protection of an individual of in%uence and rank. peasantry lived, and more o"en then not, legal disputes were decided by If said peasant were to be slain, the shaykh whose protection had been the shaykhs.137 &ey ruled largely according to a code of unwritten tradi- evoked would be obligated to avenge him.132 Characterizing the situation tional laws, some of which could be traced to the Qur’an (shari‘at then as simply one wherein the peasantry was at the mercy of local elites Muhammad), but more o"en, to regional codes of little known origin. would constitute something of a misrepresentation. Particularly during &us, in the south of Palestine, cases were o"en judged under the “Law of periods when the Ottoman center was unable to make its presence felt in Abraham” (shari‘at Khalil), which was “thoroughly well known, and… the outer provinces, rural shaykhs were, in many respects, on their own. held in the highest veneration,” and was believed to re%ect a legal code that As a visiting missionary put it (and this during the latter part of the nine- could be traced back to the patriarch himself.138 Qur’anic law was gener- teenth century, when in many places, this was arguably no longer the case), ally associated with cities and it was noted that the “peasantry always rural shaykhs had “no other authority over [their charges] than such as a prefer[red] the law of Abraham to that of the Koran, [moreover, that] it Bedouin Sheikh exercise[d] over his tribe,”133 which was another way of [should be] administered by the shaykh and the elder.”139 indicating authority of a very limited kind. O"en, legal codes drew upon what were considered purely Bedouin As with the urban notables, the trust and respect accorded rural social norms. &us, in the area around Bethlehem, Elizabeth Finn noted shaykhs had, in many ways, a religious dimension, de!ned on the basis of that in certain cases shaykhs found it necessary to resort to “Bedawy or the aforementioned “Islamic” virtues—that the shaykh should be pious, wild Arab code.”140 &e ability to draw upon di#erent codes of law allowed considered to be fair and just, and so forth. Such virtues were linked to the rural shaykhs a certain degree of %exibility in discharging their re- Islam, but it was an Islam of the most informal kind, de!ned sponsibilities, particularly those of a judicial nature.141 &e actual judicial

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arrangements were also based on rural custom, and trials were generally became based less on whatever personal qualities might have earned them held before the shaykhs.142 While in principle the option existed, peasants the respect of the peasant class, and more on their political positions as rarely took recourse to the formal Islamic courts, either with respect to de!ned within the rapidly consolidating Ottoman hierarchy. &ey were commercial transactions, or issues related to personal status.143 As noted transformed into servants of the state and appendages of the urban elite.152 by French scholar Philip J. Baldensberger, who was visiting Palestine at the &ose able to take advantage of new commercial opportunities soon found time, peasants preferred to “settle their disputes so far as possible without their interests aligned with those of the developing merchant class in the resort to the government.”144 Indeed, among many of the peasantry, it was neighboring urban centers. What remaining status they enjoyed vis-à-vis considered that “going to accuse in towns show[ed] a decadence of their the peasantry became the basis for the latter’s exploitation.153 In an e#ort independence.”145 Added to that was a general distrust of any kind of gov- to compete with other merchants in gaining access to the surplus crops ernment o$cial. As one missionary put it, the government was seen as needed for the manufacture of various goods, textiles or soap, rural “gloves for the hand that is stretched out for more of the means of the vil- shaykhs o"en sought to use their position of authority in the villages and lager,” as a consequence of which “[t]he peasants look[ed] suspiciously on the relationships they had cultivated to their own advantage. Moreover, as every movement of every o$cer, refusing to believe that any government with their urban counterparts, rural shaykhs (particularly the more pow- representative [could] have good intentions or do worthy actions.”146 Indeed, erful of the nahiya shaykhs) increasingly sought to de!ne their right of whenever it proved necessary to deal with a government !gure, villagers exploitation as one of legal prerogative. In many respects, they became an usually turned to the local village shaykh to intervene on their behalf.147 extension of the urban elite—in some cases, physically a part of that group, &e importance of shaykhs’ reputations vis-à-vis the peasantry was as many relocated to the larger towns and cities where they became absen- perhaps nowhere more evident than in the great pride they took in being tee landlords. &is made their ability to exploit the peasantry that much sought a"er and respected in connection with their ability to dispense easier, as together with urban notables they were able to consolidate their justice wisely.148 Moreover, members of the peasantry were o"en quite control of the various legal and administrative institutions. Butrus Abu likely to resist an arbitrary application of the law by any given shaykh. Manneh notes that, during the nineteenth century, “the traditional and Again quoting Finn, “should he utter a decision or express an opinion con- ‘natural’ leaders of the peasantry were destroyed or lost their military and trary to the traditionary [sic] code, he is liable to be corrected, and to have political power, [as a consequence of which], the countryside, leaderless, his sentence questioned by the merest child.”149 Where there existed any was laid open to the in%uence and domination of the city.”154 He might concern about the possible fairness of a shaykh’s ruling, a peasant might have added that a fair number of these “natural” leaders of the peasantry seek recourse in a shaykh other than his or her own. &us, sometimes a were e#ectively co-opted by their respective city or town, as they became a shaykh would acquire a reputation for being particularly knowledgeable part of the urban elite. and just; “[c]ases from all the countryside [were] brought to such a man, In short, a new elite had come into being which, though consisting of and his sentence [was] generally accepted as binding.”150 many of the same notable families as before, was now de!ned on the basis of a di#erent criterion; whereas previously it was one’s position in, and A New Elite reputation with respect to, certain Islamic institutions that determined As long as the interests of rural elites coincided with those of their respec- elite status—or in the case of rural shaykhs, one’s reputation as a generous, tive charges, the system worked reasonably well. &e institution of the hospitable, and just “Muslim”—it was now based to a much greater degree Tanzimat, however, very quickly eroded the status of rural shaykhs as me- on wealth, particularly that derived from commerce. Not surprisingly, ur- diators between town and village.151 Correspondingly, their authority ban notables still found it useful and preferable to identify their status in connection with the former. Many were uncomfortable with the new basis

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of their elite status. Too great a focus on commerce was considered un- greater degree of Ottoman centralization, their fortunes, to changed eco- seemly and notables still tended to de!ne their elite status either by hold- nomic circumstances. Most important with respect to the former was the ing positions within Islamic institutions or at the very least, maintaining majalis al-idara, control of which facilitated the ability of elites to access reputations as pious Muslims.155 More than a question of sensibilities, tax revenue, promote policies that facilitated their acquisition of local in- however, in many respects their reputations were also imperative to their dustries and factories, control the movement of commodities, and mini- success as merchants. For one thing, it was a means of acquiring waqf mize state interference where it clashed with their own political and eco- property.156 Perhaps more importantly, in connection with the aforemen- nomic interests. &e fact that they were no longer dependent on the tioned networks, it was important for maintaining a certain degree of legiti- peasantry’s support as one basis of their authority meant that they were macy among the peasantry. &e surest way of doing this was through the better able to exploit them, among other things, in the acquisition of sur- cultivation of religious status.157 A good example of this can be seen in the plus cash crops such as were valued by foreign markets.161 Husayni family’s appropriation of the Nabi Musa festival, the control of which provided a means for demonstrating notable generosity (in the form The Formalization of Religious Identity 158 of public meals) as well as claiming a socio-religious community status. No longer able to rely on local elites for justice, the peasantry increasingly Nevertheless, a$liation with Islamic institutions was no longer the found it necessary to take recourse in the formal judiciary institutions of the sole basis of elite status; instead, it became a means of legitimizing status Islamic courts in the larger urban centers. &e problem was that, too o"en, 159 a"er the fact—it provided a veneer of respectability. &e core determi- these courts were under the control of the very notables who were trying to nant of elite status had become commercial success. &ese developments exploit them. Peasants, in fact, increasingly found themselves brought into had a particularly negative impact on the peasantry. Certainly, it had al- court at the notables’ behest. Merchants, for instance, might take to court ways been the case that notable authority constituted something of a bal- peasants with whom they had salam contracts if they felt the latter had some- ancing act, between the legitimacy conferred by the Ottoman government how been remiss in ful!lling their contractual obligations. Such contracts and that given by those over whom authority was exercised. As Albert generally constituted what were quite sophisticated commercial arrange- Hourani put it when describing the typical notable elite, “It is because he ments, the enforcement of which o"en depended on court backing. &is was has access to authority that he can act as leader, and it is because he has a particularly the case when involving individuals—that is, peasants on one separate power of his own in society that [the higher] authority needs him side and merchants on the other—coming from di#erent towns (an increas- 160 and must give him access.” What was changing was that the balance was ing occurrence) inasmuch as there were no other ties linking the two parties. shi"ing in favor of the former. Previously, the authority of urban notables Such contracts then only served to augment the role of the courts in the lives and rural shaykhs had depended in equal part on the support they enjoyed of the peasantry, and notably, there was a pronounced rise in the number of among the peasantry, something determined in no small measure by their cases appearing in the Islamic courts during this period.162 &is process ex- ability to respond to the latter’s needs, as well as provide patronage. &e tended beyond mere court visits; Islamic law increasingly came to provide peasantry had at least some leverage. guidelines with respect to business practices, the resolution of social con- Under the new order the authority enjoyed by urban notables—and %icts, and the de!ning of social roles (for instance, on the basis of gender).163 likewise, that of a fair number of rural shaykhs—was no longer dependent At the same time, folk practices were increasingly coming under attack by on peasant support. A new basis for elite status had been created, one no religious reformers. Mosques preaching Islamic orthodoxy replaced maqams longer tied to the peasantry, but rather dependent on one’s relationship to (saints’ shrines) as centers of village worship, and peasants were increasingly the global market and control of administrative institutions. In more con- educated as to which practices were perceived to be authentically Islamic.164 crete terms, their authority was now tied to institutions re%ective of a

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&e end result was that the Islam practiced by the peasantry was becoming scripture, moreover, uniformly recognized throughout the Muslim world. increasingly formalized and tied to Islamic institutions. At the same time, Signi!cantly, as such, it provided the basis of a de!nable shared Islamic there was a growing sentiment among the peasantry that the exploitative identity,168 one that might be set in opposition to other identities, as the practices of this newly developed merchant class were something decidedly particulars of what the former should entail—as far as proper Islamic be- “un-Islamic.” Many were anything but generous, hospitable, fair, and honest, havior and beliefs—became more and more rigidly de!ned. and increasingly they seemed disinclined to look out for the interests of the For a large majority of the peasantry, their sense of Islamic self-iden- peasantry, whether vis-à-vis their own commercial interests or with respect tity had, by the latter part of the nineteenth century, become more partic- to Ottoman authority !gures. Worse was that the merchant class’s Muslim ularistic and more pronounced. In this sense, it was also more susceptible members seemed willing to exploit their control of formal Islamic institu- to being appropriated by certain leaders of the national movement at the tions, particularly the courts, to better serve their own commercial interests. time of the British Mandate, leaders of a certain religious quali!cation. For many peasants, such unscrupulous behavior seemed entirely unworthy Exemplary in this respect is the 1930s militant-reformist Shaykh ‘Izz al- of Muslim notables, the elite status of whom had previously been based Din al-Qassam, who stood outside the traditional elite and was able by largely on their reputations as “good” Muslims. Given their decidedly un- evoking a religious criterion to e#ectively challenge their authority, par- Islamic behavior, then, it was not surprising to Muslim peasants that this ticularly given that many of the elite could count themselves as such on the new merchant elite should be open to non-Muslims; correspondingly, there basis of little other than their wealth. Given the perceptions held by the was a growing tendency for members of the peasantry to see Muslim and peasantry with respect to this newly developed merchant class, as dis- Christian merchants as constituting a single interest group.165 cussed above, it would prove an e#ective means of challenging the latter’s In connection with other changes than taking place, the peasantry authority.169 was becoming increasingly conscious of their identity as an Islamic one in a radically new way. Islam, previously recognized as an inherent aspect of a traditional mode of living now took on a new dimension; it was an iden- tity less de!ned by practice and more by ideal, an Islam de!ned less by tradition and more in connection with its institutions, among them, legal ones. &e extent to which any particular practice was considered “Islamic” had been more a factor of to what degree it re%ected local social and cul- tural norms, directly pertained to one’s day-to-day circumstances, and was in some manner e$cacious. &at it should be theologically rooted in Islamic scripture was, at best, of secondary importance. &is was perhaps nowhere more evident than in the practice of saint worship: tellingly, in Palestine, Muslims and Christian peasants o"en worshipped the same saints, with little regard for whether the saint in question was in fact either Muslim or Christian.166 &is, too, was changing. Religious practice was becoming rooted in what Doumani refers to as an “orthodox or urban Islam”167—an Islam within which there was a right practice and wrong practice, based no longer on utility but more on archetypes. It was an Islam rooted in a proper theological interpretation of Islamic scripture, a

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ENDNOTES Rebellions in Palestine,” Journal of Palestine Studies 24, no. 1 (Autumn 1994), 63; 1. Geographically speaking, Palestine is a term encompassing the region between the Albert Hourani, “&e Fertile Crescent in the Eighteenth Century,” Studia Islamica 8 Mediterranean Sea and the Jordan River, and inclusive of the modern state of Israel and (1957); and Muhammad Adnan Salamah Bakhit, "e Ottoman Province of Damascus the Israeli-occupied Palestinian territories. In actual fact, during the Ottoman period, in the Sixteenth Century, Ph.D. dissertation, School of Oriental and African Studies, there was no corresponding administrative unit known as Palestine. For most of the February, 1972, 210. roughly three and a half centuries of Ottoman rule, with only minor variation, what is 14. Manna‘, 63. today known as Palestine consisted of roughly four districts, known as sanjaqs. 15. Ibid., 59. 2. See, for instance, Jane Hathaway, with contributions by Karl K. Barbir, "e Arab Lands 16. &at is, local traditions and customs not rooted in o$cial religious doctrine. Under Ottoman Rule, 1516-1800 (Pearson Longman: Harlow, England, 2008), 175. 17. &is was by no means a phenomenon limited to Palestine and its environs. &roughout 3. See, for instance, Laurence Oliphant, Haifa or Life in Modern Palestine (New York: the Ottoman Empire, the Tanzimat reforms would act to restrict the administrative role Harper and Brothers, 1887), 194. of the clerical establishment, thus heightening the emphasis placed on its religious 4. See, for instance, Karl Barbir, Ottoman Rule in Damascus, 1708-1758 (Princeton, NJ: function. As noted by Mardin, Islam “had stopped being something that was lived and Princeton University Press, 1980); Gad G. Gilbar, “&e Growing Economic not questioned. Secularizing reforms had made Islam become more ‘Islamic.’” Serif Involvement of Palestine with the West, 1865-1914,” in David Kushner, ed., Palestine Mardin, Religion and Social Change in Modern Turkey: "e Case of Bediüzzaman Said in the Late Ottoman Period: Political Social and Economic Transformation (Jerusalem Nursi (Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1989), 117-118. Yad Izhak Ben-Zvi, 1986), 188-210; Ruth Kark, “&e Rise and Decline of Coastal 18. See, for instance, Hathaway, 172-174. Towns in Palestine,” in Gad G. Gilbar, ed., Ottoman Palestine, 1800-1914: Studies in 19. Doumani, 152. Economic and Social History (Leiden: Brill, 1990), 69-89; Haim Gerber, Ottoman Rule 20. Judith Tucker, “Ties that Bound: Women and Family in Eighteenth- and Nineteenth- in Jerusalem, 1890-1914 (Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag, 1985); and Gabriel Baer, “&e Century Nablus,” in Nikki Keddie and Beth Baron, eds., Women in Middle Eastern Impact of Economic Change on Traditional Society in Nineteenth-Century History: Shi#ing Boundaries in Sex and Gender (New Haven, CT: Yale University Palestine,” in Moshe Ma’oz, ed., Studies on Palestine During the Ottoman Period Press, 1991), 236. (Jerusalem Magnes Press, 1975), 495-498. 21. Dror Ze’evi, “&e Use of Ottoman Shari’a Court Records as a Source for Middle 5. Beshara Doumani, Rediscovering Palestine: "e Merchants and Peasants of Jabal Eastern Social History: A Reappraisal,” Islamic Law and Society 5, no. 1 (1998), 39-40. Nablus, 1700-1900 (Berkeley, CA University of California Press, 1995). 22. Colette Establet and Jean-Paul Pascual, Familles et fortunes à Damas 450 Foyers 6. See Yehoshua Porath, “&e Political Awakening of the Palestinian Arabs and &eir Damascains en 1700 (Damascus, 1994), cited in Ze’evi, “&e Use of Ottoman Shari’a Leadership Towards the End of the Ottoman Period,” in Ma’oz, Studies on Palestine, Court Records,” 44. 355 360; and Haim Gerber, “‘Palestine’ and Other Territorial Concepts in the 23. Amy Singer, Palestinian Peasants and Ottoman O$cials: Rural Administration Seventeenth Century,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 30 (1998), 563 Around Sixteenth-Century Jerusalem (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 572. 21. See also Hathaway, 174. &ough it should be noted that even during the sixteenth 7. In addition to mu"is and qadis, possible positions included imams, the leaders of public and seventeenth centuries, it seems that peasants were reluctant to appear in court, prayer in mosques, khatibs, who were in charge of public oration, mu’adhdhins, who and o"en were compelled to do so, usually by an o$cial Ottoman escort. Whenever were in charge of summoning the faithful to prayer, and religious instructors for the possible, they preferred to settle disputes in their respective village. Singer, 21, 27. general population. Particularly lucrative positions were those related to the supervision &is was not unique to Palestine. See, for instance, Galal H. El-Nahal, Judicial of religious endowments. See Stanford J. Shaw, History of the Ottoman Empire and Administration in Ottoman Egypt in the Seventeenth Century: A Study Based on the Modern Turkey, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1976), 138. Shari’ah Court Registers, Ph.D. dissertation, University of Chicago, 1978, 25-26. 8. &is in e#ect constitutes a second-level subdivision of a !rst-level division (such as 24. See Erik Freas, “Muslim Women in the Missionary World,” Muslim World 88, no. 2 the sanjaq), and usually inclusive of a number of villages and sometimes an urban (April 1998), 141-164. center. &e nahiya in turn was subdivided into mahallas, which constituted the 25. Yehuda Karmon, “Changes in the Urban Geography of Hebron during the smallest Ottoman administrative subdivisions. Nineteenth Century,” in Ma’oz, Studies on Palestine, 80. 9. Abu Manneh, “Jerusalem in the Tanzimat Period,” 4-5. 26. &us, Bakhit notes that during the sixteenth century, Syrian writers, although 10. Elihu Grant, "e People of Palestine (Westport, CT: Hyperion, 1976 [1921]), 150. See providing plenty of information about life in the cities, were little concerned with also John Lewis Burckhardt, Travels in Syria and the Holy Land (London: Darf what transpired in the countryside; likewise, biographical treatises rarely dealt with Publishers, Ltd. [&e Association for Promoting the Discovery of the Interior Parts of rural shaykhs. Bakhit, 223. Africa], 1992 [1882]), 349; also Burckhardt, Travels in Syria and the Holy Land, 382. 27. &ough this re%ected in large part the procedural focus of most sijill records, and not 11. Doumani, 35. necessarily any prejudice against peasants versus individuals of di#erent back- 12. Divine, 39. grounds. Ze’evi, 48. 13. Dick Douwes, "e Ottomans in Syria: A History of Justice and Oppression (London: I. 28. See, for instance, Elihu Grant, "e Peasantry of Palestine: "e Life, Manners and B. Tauris, 2000), 167; see also ‘Adel Manna‘, “Eighteenth- and Nineteenth-Century Customs of the Village (New York: Pilgrim Press, 1907); Elizabeth Anne Finn,

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Palestine Peasantry: Notes on "eir Clans, Warfare, Religion, and Laws (London: 40. Karmon, 80. Marshall Brothers, 1923); William McClure &omson, Land and the Book, or, Biblical 41. Mordechai Abir, “Local Leadership and Early Reforms in Palestine, 1800-1834,” in Illustrations Drawn from the Manners and Customs, the Scenes, and Scenery of the Ma’oz, Studies on Palestine, 290. Holy Land (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1954); T. C. Wilson, Peasant Life 42. Grant, "e People of Palestine, 225. &is was equally so during the late sixteenth and in the Holy Land (London: John Murray, 1906); Oliphant, Haifa; F. A. Klein, “Life, seventeenth centuries. See Singer, Palestinian Peasants and Ottoman O$cials, 37, Habits, and Customs of the Fellahin of Palestine,” Palestine Exploration Fund 90-91; also vol. 69, no. 25, 9 Receb 1001 (11 April 1595), in Heyd, Ottoman Docu- Quarterly Statement (1883), 41-48; Samuel Bergheim, “Land Tenure in Palestine,” ments on Palestine, 50. Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement (1894), 191-199; George E. Post, 43. Owen, "e Middle East, 176; also Kark, “&e Rise and Fall of Coastal Towns,” 70. “Essays on the Sects and Nationalities of Syria and Palestine, Essay 2, Introduction,” 44. Shmuel Avitsur, “&e In%uence of Western Technology on the Economy of Palestine Palestine Exploration Fund, Quarterly Statement (1891), 99-147. during the Nineteenth Century,” in Ma’oz, Studies on Palestine, 485; Owen, "e 29. A notable example in this respect is Cyrus Hamlin, Among the Turks (New York: Middle East, 86, 178; and Omer Celal Sarç, “‘Tanzimat ve Sanayimiz’ (&e Tanzimat American Tract Society, 1877). and Our Industry),” in Tanzimat (Istanbul, 1941), reproduced in Charles Issawi, ed., 30. Until recently, conventional scholarly opinion held that, during the period in "e Economic History of the Middle East 1800-1914: A Book of Readings (Chicago: question, the Ottoman Empire was in a state of decline, a framework historians have University of Chicago Press, 1966), 49. since largely rejected. Nonetheless, it is fair to say that by the eighteenth century the 45. &us, trade in cotton was later eclipsed by other commodities such as wheat, barley, central government in Istanbul was !nding it di$cult to exert direct authority over sesame seeds, olive oil, and, later, oranges. Owen, 86, 178, 167, 177; also Doumani, the outer provinces. See Hathaway, 7-8. 105. 31. Shaw, 165; also M. Sükrü Hanioglu, A Brief History of the Late Ottoman Empire 46. See, for instance, Owen, 29-30, 51-53. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2008), 6-7; and Hathaway, 8, 79-82. 47. A. Granott, "e Land System in Palestine: History and Structure (London: Eyre and 32. Manna‘, 33-35; also S. N. Spyridon, trans., extracts from Annals of Palestine Spottiswoode, 1952), 58-77. 1821-1841, a manuscript by Monk Neophitos of Cyprus (Jerusalem Ariel Publishing 48. Ma’oz, Ottoman Reform, 177-178; Kark, 70, 82-83; and Haim Gerber, “Modernization House, September 1979), Journal of Palestine Oriental Society 18 (1938), 73-83. A in Nineteenth-Century Palestine: &e Role of Foreign Trade,” Middle Eastern Studies similar successful rebellion took place in Palestine in 1703-1705. &is revolt was 18, no. 3 (July 1982), 251; also Sarç, “Tanzimat ve Sanayimiz,” 49 50. known as the naqib al-ashraf rebellion, in consideration of the role played by the 49. Gilbar, 199. naqib al-ashraf, or head of the association of shurafa’, the descendants of the prophet. 50. Concerning the pilgrimage and its impact on the Nablus economy, see Owen, "e Notably, in both cases, the notable leaders of the rebellion were careful to reward Middle East, 24; also Barbir, 124. those peasants who had participated, primarily by exempting them from having to 51. Doumani, 14, 33, 97, 237; Owen, 124. pay certain taxes. Ibid., 52, 54, 58-59. See also Bakhit, 250. 52. Doumani, 184. 33. Spyridon, 91-92. Also Bakhit, 94. 53. Ibid., 129-130, 141-142, 165. 34. See Ma’oz, Ottoman Reform, 115; also Roger Owen, "e Middle East in the World 54. Particularly following the trade convention of Balta Limanı signed with Britain in Economy, 1800-1914 (London: Methuen, 1981), 173; Bakhit, 270-271; and Doumani, 1838. For the actual document, see Issawi, Economic History, 39-40. 26, 34-44, concerning the area around Nablus. Regarding rivalries in the region of 55. What Doumani refers to as a “shared material base characterized by… moneylending, the Judean Hills and around Hebron and Jerusalem, see Ma’oz, 119-121. Concerning land ownership, urban real estate, trade, and … manufacturing.” Doumani, 129, 241. peasant warfare in general, see ibid., 131, and Abdul-Rahim Abu-Husayn, Provincial 56. A waqf is an Islamic foundation, whereby a given property is designated for a speci!c Leaderships in Syria, 1575-1650 (Beirut: American University of Beirut, 1985), purpose. &ough in theory eternal and inalienable, certain mechanisms did exist 161-198. which could establish private rights and assets over waqf property. See Gabriel Baer, 35. Uriel Heyd, Ottoman Documents on Palestine, 1552-1615: A Study of the Firman “&e Dismemberment of Awqaf in Early Nineteenth-Century Jerusalem,” in Gilbar, According to the Mühimme De#eri (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1960), 63, 80, 79, Ottoman Palestine, 299-300, 306-308, 314-316. inclusive of the %rman to Mehemmed Beg, Beg of Safad, identi!ed as vol. 14, no. 99, 57. Owen, 90, 175; also Doumani, 93, 117-118. Muharrem (?) 979 (May/June 1571). 58. Ibid., 135. See also Butros Abu Manneh, “Aspects of Socio-Political Transformation 36. Abu-Husayn, 161-198; Hourani, “&e Fertile Crescent in the Eighteenth Century,” 27. in Palestine in the Tanzimat Period (1841-1876),” paper presented at “Turks and &ough to be sure, not all provincial elites in the Arab provinces were, strictly Palestine: A &ousand Years of Relations,” Jerusalem, 22 24 June 2004. speaking, members of the ‘ulama. 59. In essence, a carryover of the majlis al-shura, initiated by Ibrahim Pasha during the 37. Abu Manneh, 22. time of the Egyptian occupation. 38. Ted Swedenburg, “&e Role of the Palestinian Peasantry in the Great Revolt 60. Singular, Majlis al-Idara. (1936-1939),” in Edmund Burke III and Ira Lapidus, eds., Islam, Politics, and Social 61. Hourani, “Ottoman Reform and the Politics of Notables,” 62. Movements (Berkeley, CA University of California Press, 1988), 172. 62. Stanford J. Shaw and Ezel Kural Shaw, History of the Ottoman Empire and Modern 39. Singer, 21, 27, 29. Turkey, vol. 2 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1977), 84-85.

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63. Among their powers, the advisory councils were allowed to ask for information from 80. Swedenburg, 109, 182. the governors on all matters, to register complaints concerning their administration 81. Doumani, 14. By the end of the nineteenth century, soap manufacture had in fact with the Grand Vezir in Istanbul, to testify to the Vezir’s representatives when they become the dominant economic activity in Nablus. Ibid., 183-184, 238-239. came on inspection, to hear appeals from the religious courts where the decisions 82. Gilbar, 205; and Swedenburg, 174. See also Grant, "e Peasantry of Palestine, 149. involved large amounts of money, and to discuss not only current problems but also 83. Doumani, 239, 103. measures that might be taken to improve the welfare and security of the state. Ibid., 87. 84. Essentially, a salam contract allowed for immediate payment by the buyer in 64. In some cases, they were not even able to speak the local dialect. James Finn, Stirring anticipation of goods to be delivered at a later date. A typical salam contract might Times: Or Records from Jerusalem Consular Chronicles of 1853 to 1856, vol. 1 take the form of a loan, whereby a merchant paid the taxes of a village in return for a (London: C. Kegan Paul and Company, 1878), 163. speci!ed amount of produce, to be delivered at the time of its harvest. Signi!cantly, 65. Membership in the majlis al-idara was con!ned to candidates who paid a direct tax the salam contract usually had a calculated rate of interest disguised as an arti!cially of no less than 500 piasters per year. As the majority of village dwellers could not low price, hence guaranteeing a pro!table return when the lender sold the related a#ord this, the management of their internal a#airs was e#ectively le" in the hands good on the open market. Doumani, 135-144. of what was a rising group of wealthy urban notables. Doumani, 235; also Abu 85. Granott, "e Land System in Palestine, 72-77. Manneh, “Jerusalem in the Tanzimat Period,” 12. 86. Rashid Khalidi, Palestinian Identity: "e Construction of Modern National 66. See Doumani, 129-130, 238-239. Consciousness (New York: Columbia University Press, 1997), 94. 67. Hourani, “Ottoman Reform and the Politics of Notables,” 62; see also Philip Mattar, 87. Swedenburg, 173; also Hourani, “Ottoman Reform and the Politics of Notables,” 64. "e Mu#i of JerusalEM: Hajj Amin al-Husayni and the Palestinian National 88. Swedenburg, 173. Movement (New York: Columbia Press, 1988), 4. 89. Post, “Essays on the Sects and Nationalities,” 105; also Granott, 58-65. 68. As Doumani puts it, “local merchants use[d] their recent access to political o$ce (the 90. See, for instance, Ermete Pierotti, Customs and Traditions of Palestine, Illustrating majalis al-idara) in order to adjust the politics of ‘free trade’ in their favor.” Doumani, the Manners of the Ancient Hebrews, trans. T. G. Bonney (Cambridge: Deighton, Bell, 97; Hourani, “Ottoman Reform and the Politics of Notables,” 64; Shaw and Shaw, 86; and Company, 1864), 201-202. In some cases, it had been considered that they held and Porath, 364. paramount power in the rural areas. Abu Manneh, 5, 23-24; also Singer, 32. 69. Concerning the di#erent ranks of rural shaykhs, see Abu Manneh, “Jerusalem in the 91. Singer, 24, and Hathaway, 174. Tanzimat Period,” 4-5. 92. Singer, 32. 70. Kenneth W. Stein, "e Land Question in Palestine, 1917-1939 (Chapel Hill, NC: 93. &is practice would continue even as of the late nineteenth century. B. A. Macalister University of North Carolina Press, 1984), 7. Concerning reforms with respect to tax and E. W. G. Masterman, “Occasional Papers on the Modern Inhabitants of farming during this period, see also Hanioglu, 88, 90. Palestine,” Part I, Palestine Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement (1905), 334, 71. Porath, 365. 345-346. 72. Shaw and Shaw, 88. 94. Singer, 34-37. 73. See, for instance, Laurence Oliphant, "e Land of Gilead with Excursions in the 95. Hathaway, 175. Lebanon (Edinburgh: William Blackwood and Sons, 1881), 129; ibid., 128; and 96. Grant, "e People of Palestine, 225. See also Abu-Husayn, 9. Hourani, “Ottoman Reform and the Politics of Notables,” 63. 97. Hathaway, 170-171; see also Hanioglu, 21. 74. Abu Manneh, “Jerusalem in the Tanzimat Period,” 4. 98. See, for instance, Porath, 361. 75. See, for instance, Mattar, 4. 99. Increasingly, it was the case as well that the multazim, or tax farmer, was accompa- 76. Owen, "e Middle East, 174. nied by government soldiers when collecting taxes. Post, “Essays on the Sects and 77. Something the gradual strengthening of Ottoman authority in the outer provinces Nationalities,” 106. following the ousting of Ibrahim Pasha went a long way toward diminishing as well. 100. See, for example, Bergheim, 197-199; also Oliphant, 120. Abu Manneh, “Jerusalem in the Tanzimat Period,” 23-35. 101. Swedenburg, 173. See also Doumani, 135, 208. 78. &e members of the !rst Parliament, which convened in March 1877, were 102. &is was through the Vilayet Law of 1864, which abolished the o$ces of nahiya determined by the majalis al-idara rather than popular su#rage—hence it was the shaykh and village shaykh as far as allocating them any speci!c function went. Abu majalis al-idara that controlled who was actually sent as a representative. Robert Manneh, “Jerusalem in the Tanzimat Period,” 36. See also Porath, 22-23. Devereux, "e First Ottoman Constitutional Period: A Study of the Midhat 103. &ough this is by no means to suggest that their situation was free of hardships; o"en Constitution and Parliament (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1964), enough, however, whatever problems they faced re%ected circumstances particular to 124. time and place. &us, for instance, those residing further to the east did su#er harass- 79. Hourani, “Ottoman Reform and the Politics of Notables,” 62; also Abu Manneh, ment from Bedouin tribes more frequently than those residing in the more “Jerusalem in the Tanzimat Period,” 37. &e majalis al-idara were granted authority over mountainous interior. See, for instance, Burckhardt, Travels in Syria and the Holy matters pertaining to the surrounding countryside previously considered outside their Land, 299-303. Interestingly enough, Oliphant suggested that the dangers posed by jurisdiction, but which now strengthened their authority over it. Ibid., 13. “marauding Bedouins” were very much exaggerated, even east of the Jordan River.

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Oliphant, "e Land of Gilead, 26, 288, 310. period, though by then it was more in connection with notable politics. Ya’akov 104. Certainly, a fair number did, though o"en it seems that in such cases, little Firestone, “Crop-Sharing Economics in Mandatory Palestine, Part II,” Middle investigation was actually made to ascertain the truth of !rst impressions or Eastern Studies 11, no. 2 (May 1975), 185. accepted wisdom. It might be added as well that such descriptions seemed to become 123. See Finn, Palestine Peasantry, 30; Murray, Handbook for Travellers, 213; also Abir, more commonplace toward the end of the nineteenth century, by which time—in 286. keeping with the changes discussed above—their situation had indeed worsened. See, 124. See Spyridon, 112-114, and Doumani, 46. for example, Oliphant, Haifa, 178. 125. Abu Manneh, 23-35. 105. Finn, Palestine Peasantry, 22. 126. FO 78/447, Werry to Ponsonby, no. 6, Damascus, 10 June 1841; also Ma’oz, Ottoman 106. Oliphant, "e Land of Gilead, 297. Reforms, 161; also Oliphant, "e Land of Gilead, 120, 128. 107. John Murray, Handbook for Travellers in Syria and Palestine, Including an Account of the 127. FO 78/1398, General Report on Aleppo, enclosed in Skene to Malmesbury, no. 25, Geography, History, Antiquities, and Inhabitants of "ese Countries, the Peninsula of Sinai, Aleppo, 17 June 1858; and FO 78/872, Wood to Canning, enclosed in Wood to Edom, and the Syrian Desert, with Detailed Descriptions of Jerusalem, Petra, Damascus, Palmerston, no. 17, Damascus, 29 May 1851. and Palmyra (London: Murray, 1875), 213. See also Oliphant, "e Land of Gilead, 321. 128. See, for example, C. F. Volney, Travels "rough Syria and Egypt in the Years 1783, 1784, 108. Murray, Handbook for Travellers, 202. See also Oliphant, "e Land of Gilead, 298; and 1785, vol. 1 (London: G. G. J. and J. Robinson, 1805), 382; and Tristram, "e Land Murray, 350, 505, 513; &omson, Land and the Book, 338, 345, 525, 526, 538; Sobhi M. of Israel, 487-488. See also Ya’akov Firestone, “Crop-Sharing Economics in Mandatory Bekawi, English Travel Literature Dealing with Palestine: From 1800-1850 (Cairo: &e Palestine, Part I,” in Middle Eastern Studies 11, no. 1 (January 1975), 12; and Ma’oz, 164. Associated Institution, 1978), 36; Ma’oz,165. 129. See, for instance, Kelly, 440; also Tristram, 468-469; Bonar, 351-353; Post, “Essays on 109. Abir, 309-310; also Manna’, 58-59; Finn, 15; and Spyridon, 90-91. &e Egyptians the Sects and Nationalities,” 139; and Florence Mary Fitch, "e Daughter of Abd Salam: would be forced out of Syria and Palestine less than ten years later, though this "e Story of a Peasant Woman of Palestine (Boston: Bruce Humphries, 1934), 22-23. almost certainly had more to do with European pressure bought to bear on Egypt 130. It is interesting to consider that, as of the time of the British mandate, the same ideals than any internal resistance. continued to inform relations between elites (here represented by landlords) and 110. Abir, 309-310. peasants (in this case, o"en enough those working on their respective properties). 111. &omson, 526, 538. &us, even though the basis of their relationship was quite di#erent in many respects, 112. For instance, H. B. Tristram, "e Land of Israel: A Journal of Travels in Palestine landlords might still be expected to provide their farmers free housing, greater Undertaken with Special Reference to Its Physical Character (London: Society for security of tenure, lower rents, and even larger shares of the crop being cultivated Promoting Christian Knowledge, 1865), 131, 134. then was their due. Villagers, for their part, o"en characterized the working 113. Ibid., 137. relationship between them and their respective landlords in idealized terms of justice 114. Tristram, 130. [Eliminated the ‘for example’ for this and next two endnotes] and trust. Firestone, “Crop-Sharing Economics, Part II,” 183-185. 115. Ibid., 421-422. 131. Finn, 38. 116. Karmon, 80- 82; C. G. Smith, “&e Geography and Natural Resources of Palestine as 132. Ibid., 34-36. Seen by British Writers in the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries,” in Ma’oz, 133. Burckhardt, 349; also ibid., 382. Studies on Palestine, 88; and Issawi, Economic History, 206. 134. Grant, "e Peasantry of Palestine, 111, 117; also Kelly, 19-20; and Finn, Stirring Times, 117. Granott, 35. See also ibid., 56-57. 216. See also Swedenberg, 172; and Doumani, 167. 118. Finn, 24. 135. Grant, "e Peasantry of Palestine, 110. 119. Karmon, 79; also Abir, 286. 136. Finn, Palestine Peasantry, 19, 45. Finn even went so far as to characterize most 120. Ma’oz, Ottoman Reform, 115. See also Tristram, "e Land of Israel, 467; Charles peasants as being only nominally Muslim. Leonard Irby and James Mangles, Travels in Egypt and Nubia, Syria, and Asia Minor 137. Ibid., 89. During the Years 1817 and 1818 (London: T. White and Company, 1823), 368, 395; 138. Ibid., 54. Spyridon, 108; and Owen, "e Middle East, 173. 139. Ibid., 20-21, 24. See also Finn, Stirring Times, 216; Pierotti, Customs and Traditions of 121. See, for instance, FO 78/836, Finn to Rose, Safad, 31 October, enclosed in Rose to Palestine, 201 202; and Philip J. Baldensperger, “&e Immovable East,” Palestine Palmerston, no. 48, Beirut, 3 November 1850; FO 78/962, Finn to Palmerston, no. 15, Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement (1906), 15. See also Baer, “&e O$ce and Jerusalem, 29 August 1853; Burckhardt, Travels in Syria and the Holy Land, 342; Functions of the Village Mukhtar,” 120-121; and Doumani, 28, 152. Tristram, "e Land of Israel, 477-80; and Irby and Mangles, Travels in Egypt and 140. Finn, Palestine Peasantry, 24. See also Doumani, 28. Nubia, Syria, and Asia Minor, 366. It would seem, in fact, that such rivalries in the 141. Baer, “&e O$ce and Functions of the Village Mukhtar,” 120. countryside were fairly evident in Palestine as early as the sixteenth century, if not 142. Pierotti, Customs and Traditions of Palestine, 208-209. sooner. See Abu-Husayn, 161-198. 143. Grant, "e Peasantry of Palestine, 229; and Finn, Palestine Peasantry, 89; also 122. Manna‘, 51-66, 61. &e need to garner support from the peasantry would still Doumani, 28. constitute a factor in elite-peasant relations even as late as the British Mandate 144. Grant, "e People of Palestine, 227; also Finn, Palestine Peasantry, 89.

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145. Philip J. Baldensperger, “Morals of the Fellahin (Answers to Questions),” Palestine 169. Such an emphasis on Islam, in addition to drawing what was an increasingly literate Exploration Fund Quarterly Statement (1897), 124, 127-128. See also Grant, "e and politically aware lower social strata into the national movement, also provided a Peasantry of Palestine, 226-227, 229; and Finn, Palestine Peasantry, 32. shared identity between them and what was a growing professional class, many of 146. Grant, "e People of Palestine, 226; also ibid, 227; and Oliphant, "e Land of Gilead, whom were attracted to a sala! Arab nationalism that stressed the relationship 128-129. between Arab identity and Islam. See Yehoshua Porath, "e Palestinian Arab 147. Grant, "e Peasantry of Palestine, 229; also Oliphant, "e Land of Gilead, 120. National Movement: From Riots to Rebellion, 1929-1939, vol. 2 (London: Frank Cass 148. Finn, Palestine Peasantry, 13. and Company, 1977), 137. 149. Ibid., 21. 150. Ibid., 89. 151. Doumani, 179; also Porath, 362. 152. Rural shaykhs had become in e#ect government-sponsored tax collectors and rural administrators; their authority now stemmed entirely from the urban center. See Doumani, 170. 153. Owen, "e Middle East, 175. 154. Abu Manneh, 37. 155. Of course, money could facilitate both, whether through exerting in%uence in obtaining a desirable post, marrying into a family of religious scholars, providing charity, or !nancing an in!nite number of pilgrimages to Mecca. See Doumani, 66. 156. Consider, for instance, the case of the Khalidi family of Jerusalem, who, in exchange for performing certain religious functions, were awarded the rights and assets related to certain waqf properties. Baer, “&e Dismemberment of Awqaf,” 309. 157. As expressed by Swedenburg, “the notables had to ‘work on’ pre-capitalist ideologies of hierarchy, so as to reinforce the peasants’ attitude of deference.” Swedenburg, 176. See also Johnson, 15; and Firestone, “Crop-Sharing Economics, Part II,” 183-185. 158. Swedenburg, 176. See also Johnson, Islam and the Politics of Meaning, 15; and Porath, “&e Political Awakening of the Palestinian Arabs,” 366. 159. See, for instance, Hourani, “&e Fertile Crescent in the Eighteenth Century,” 27. &e Jerusalem-based post of naqib al-ashraf (“head of the descendants of the Prophet”) provides a good example of this; a mostly symbolic position, it granted the individual so designated certain social and legal prerogatives over other individuals and families claiming descent from the Prophet. See Abu Manneh, 18-19. 160. Hourani, 46. See also Barbir, 9, 70-71; Doumani, 242; and Divine, 39. 161. Doumani, 129-130, 238-239. 162. As expressed by Doumani, for many peasants the “best of hope of carving out a political space for themselves lay in involving the state and appealing to its sense of justice.” Ibid., 152, 175. &is certainly represented a change from the situation described above, whereby “villagers [sought] to settle their disputes so far as possible without resort to the government.” Grant, "e People of Palestine, 227. 163. Doumani, 180. 164. Swedenburg, 177. 165. Gilbar, “&e Growing Economic Involvement,” 188-210. See also Swedenburg, 174; and Doumani, 141, 166-168, and 291, fn 32. 166. Derek Hopwood, "e Russian Presence in Syria and Palestine, 1843-1914: Church and Politics in the Near East (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), 30; and Swedenburg, 172, 177. 167. Doumani, 167. 168. As expressed by Doumani, “Islamic law o#er[ed] a common denominator or…a set of shared reference points that made it an appealing framework at a time when market relations were carving an ever-larger space in the hinterlands of the interiors.” Ibid.

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