Jassim the Leader: Founder of Qatar Page 18

  It seems that Ahmad would naturally have come to back Jassim’s position with time, but unfortunately his time had just run out. In December 1905, Ahmad was murdered by one of his own men, a Banu Hajir tribesman who bore him a personal grudge. The speed with which Jassim now retook full control of Qatar clearly indicates his energy and confirmed Ottoman suspicions that he had never abandoned tribal politics in the seven-year ‘semi-retirement’. It is ironic too that the British and Ottoman officials who had prepared various contingency plans in the event of Jassim’s death had not stopped to consider he might outlive his younger brother. Jassim handled the emergency at Bida with his usual skill. Summoning the Banu Hajir to his camp, he made them promise that they would hunt down and execute the murderer. During the meeting one of the Banu Hajir notables was suddenly attacked and killed by a tribesman loyal to Ahmad. Jassim, up to the task, managed to calm the situation. Shortly afterwards Ahmad’s murderer was caught and shot. The threat of a blood feud between the parties had passed. Jassim was back.

  11

  END OF AN ERA

  DISPLAYING ONE of the many mercury-induced eccentricities of his later years, Sir Isaac Newton once cut two holes into his front door. One was for the cat, he explained to incredulous guests, while the other was for her kittens. Such oddity tempers the exasperation he expressed in 1721, having just lost his fortune in the South Sea Bubble. Sir Isaac wrote: ‘I can calculate the motions of heavenly bodies, but not the madness of people.’ The aged bachelor had no money to pass on to his beloved niece, who had cared for him in his last years. Fate had spared Newton the difficulty of deciding who was worthiest to receive his legacy. Fate is rarely so kind.

  The problem of bequeathing to a worthy descendant is a theme that dates back from well before the biblical parable of the talents. In more recent times, the eight paintings known as A Rake’s Progress by William Hogarth explain – by use of the first storyboard known to history – the dangers of bequeathing to the unworthy. Published in print form in 1735, the eight pictures reveal the story of a Tom Rakewell, who inherits his father’s fortune only to waste it and end his days in a prison and, eventually, a madhouse. Many cultures have recognised the inherent difficulties of bequeathing money or power. Some have sought to lessen the dangers by means of clever stratagems and systems. A couple of counties in eastern England practised ultimogeniture, whereby the youngest son would inherit all rather than the eldest. The Minangkabau indigenous to the highlands of West Sumatra only permit power, property and land to pass down from mother to daughter. And in pre-modern Kyushu and a few other areas of Japan, an estate might be apportioned among all sons, except that the youngest receives a double share as a reward for looking after his elderly parents.

  Following the violent and unexpected death of his brother, the 80-year-old Jassim now had to consider who should take up his mantle. Throughout its history, Qatar had thankfully been spared much of the fratricide and civil war of the neighbouring sheikhdoms. Nevertheless, the process of passing on power in the peninsula’s transforming society was fraught with difficulty. Traditionally, leadership in Qatar had been vested in a network of tribal chieftains, an elected leader in the sense of a primus inter pares. During Jassim’s long life, a few eastern Arabian sheikhs had acquired additional power and prestige as a result of being recognised as Trucial sheikhs. Eventually, they adopted the title of hakim and finally, at independence, the title of emir, combining the attributes of ruler, commander and prince. This process, however, benefited only a few. The majority of tribal leaders under Jassim’s rule had found their authority diminishing and, in many instances, disappearing entirely.

  Jassim’s choice of successor was made all the more difficult by another sea change which had also taken place during his own lifetime. The distinction between the nomadic, rural Bedouin and the settled, town-living Hadar had almost been lost. This was a major development, as Jassim was in many ways attached culturally to the former, much more so than his father, yet his rule had overseen the rise of towns. (And even when Jassim came to submit to the settled life in his twilight years, he still chose to do so away from the large population centres.) Throughout the span of Middle Eastern history, the Bedouin and Hadar populations had maintained an unstable relationship characterised by mutual need and mutual mistrust, each dependent on the other while maintaining claims of superiority. The Hadar promoted the civilised system by which a political succession was achieved smoothly and peaceably and would allow access for discussion, dispute and disagreement. From among these ideas was born the majlis, a public session whereby the individual citizen was granted personal access to the ruler and had an opportunity for immediate redress of his grievances. Another was the shura, the process of consultation with community notables, an idea which would eventually be incorporated into today’s modern governments through provisions for consultative or legislative assemblies. On the other hand, the Bedouin had promoted a nomadic system by which poor or bad leadership would be weeded out, and once policy was agreed, all tribesmen were 100 per cent behind the decision, with no regard for personal preference or opinion. It was this factor which explains the tribe’s great strength and its great weakness. There was no permanent opposition that would constantly argue with government. Decisions were made and executed. It was not for tribesmen to question why, theirs just to do and survive the best way that they could.

  Jassim was thus to choose his successor at a time when the establishment of coastal bases at Doha, Manama, Abu Dhabi, Dubai and elsewhere represented a significant departure from what he was used to as a youth or fully appreciated in his later years. The act of selecting a permanent geographical centre had resulted in an identification between the tribe and its settlement. Furthermore, this shift from Bedouin to Hadar culture required a concomitant increase in reliance on stronger political authority. This was because the shift to permanent coastal settlement had opened the way to greater contact with the outside world – promoting an exchange of ideas and weakening the hold of traditional beliefs and customs regarding authority.

  The concentration of political power in the hands of sheikhs owed a great deal to the activity of the British in the Gulf over the previous hundred years. Britain’s supremacy over its southern shores was first manifested by the imposition of maritime restrictions on the Arab population, and assumed that each region must have one sheikh more powerful than others who exercised political authority over all residents of their settlements. In other words, their position was considered to be closer to that of hakim than the traditional conception of a tribal sheikh. But Jassim recognised that despite having achieved recognition of a sort by the British, the Trucial sheikhs received no benefit from this relationship as regards their internal position, nor would they until much later in the twentieth century. Thus it was that as Jassim came to consider the selection of a successor in 1906, he correctly perceived that any potential leader would still need to demonstrate some traditional qualities. He would need to depend on the vigour and speed he had displayed and the skill he could show in maintaining tribal support.

  There were other factors that played significantly less on Jassim’s mind as he came to consider the country’s future. Although the foreign political relations of the peninsula were theoretically controlled by the Turkish military commander at Bida, the sheikh continued to act independently and with scant regard for such diplomatic sensibilities. For example, when Abd ul-Aziz bin Saud, son of the Wahhabi-aligned Emir, paid a visit to the districts bordering Qatar in 1905, Jassim sent a letter of welcome, with 8,000 German crowns in cash and a present of rifles and rice, and visited him personally at the wells of Uraiq. Jassim had long given up any pretence of benefiting from the ‘protection’ of the Ottoman Empire, but he was hopeful of establishing good relations with the Saudi state. The British had begun to take a much greater interest in the internal affairs of their Trucial allies, particularly in Bahrain and Kuwait. Retreating to his beloved farm in Lusail, Jassim was certain of only one thing. B
equeathing Qatar would be no simple task.

  Choosing a successor

  The venerable sheikh soon appointed his late brother’s clerk, Ibrahim bin Salih bin Bakr, as Amir al-Suq for an interim period while he considered the succession issue. Despite the loss of Ali in Doha in 1888, Jassim still had eleven sons, only three of whom were experienced and old enough to be considered. But even these three worried him. He was concerned that the trio were too ‘young and ignorant for the art of government’. Compounding the problem was that Khalifa, Abdullah and Abd ul-Rahman seemed loath to take up their father’s responsibilities. Khalifa was content with his lot as Sheikh of Bida. Abd ul-Rahman was reluctant to accept his current position as the Sheikh of Wakra. The third, Abdullah, had become a wealthy pearl merchant in his own right and had no desire to deal with tribal disputes or Ottoman intrigues. Nevertheless, Jassim had narrowed his choice to one of these three, and wrote about the qualities he was looking for in at least one of them.

  The ruler of Doha should at once be both a soldier and a statesman, able to beat out the tribes and to march long distances whenever necessary, and while in Doha to keep order in the town, to remain conciliatory with the different tribes and to keep himself out of playing into the hands of the Turks. The Turks are powerless to do any harm when kept at a distance, but when close are difficult to manage.

  The Ottoman garrison in Bida, headed by Major Nemit Effendi, appeared to recognise it had no formal voice, voting power or veto over Jassim’s eventual choice. Nevertheless, it was concerned at the delay. After defeating Ibn Saud’s forces in a pitched battle in June 1904, the Ottoman army in Hasa were suffering terribly from Ibn Saud’s guerrilla reprisals. Major Nemit pleaded with Jassim to appoint a successor as quickly as possible, fearing tribal threats to his security and the possibility that even Hasa province might fall, leaving his garrison isolated and unable to retreat except by sea to the nearest base in Basra. Major Nemit also urged Sheikh Jassim to accept the Qayamaqamship with a fixed salary, which the sheikh again refused to do. Nevertheless, as pressure mounted, Jassim intimated to the leading tribes of Qatar that they should help elect the next leader as soon as possible. The religiously inclined Sheikh Abdullah bin Jassim Al Thani emerged as the candidate of choice. Although he had initially declined the chieftaincy, owing to his stated interest in trade and commerce, various tribal missions eventually persuaded him to accept. By the end of the pearl season in 1906, Abdullah had became governor of Doha and Jassim’s heir apparent. With encouragement from his father, Abdullah’s first task was to launch a series of campaigns against unruly tribes as far as Salwa and Uqair. They met with success. Abdullah’s diplomatic skills were tested too in November, when he restored harmonious relations between the people of Doha and the Ajman tribe.

  Abdullah’s first direct dealings with the British authorities in the Gulf were less auspicious, and soon became strained over the question of lawlessness on the Qatar coast. The Resident was certain that one Ahmad bin Salama had arrived at Doha in July 1906, after attacking a boat on the pearl bank. His presence at Doha had caused a good deal of anxiety among Bahrain’s pearlers, even though it was highly unlikely he would commit any offence east of the peninsula. As usual, the British would not enter into communication with Ottoman officials in Bida as it would imply recognition of their authority. So the Political Resident, Sir Percy Cox, wrote to Jassim at Lusail directly, asking him to take action against Ahmad bin Salama and to instruct his dependants and Abdullah to have no dealings with him. Jassim and his son were treated to yet another display of Britain’s self-appointed role as protector of peace on the Arabian Gulf.

  You are well-aware from of old time [sic] that the primary object of the British Government is to maintain absolute peace and security on the sea, so that all the natives of the littoral may trade without fear. If persons in the position of yourself and your sons harbour and entertain the evil doers how can there be peace! Such conduct will bring trouble upon all.

  The admonition had arrived while Jassim was visiting Ibn Saud in the Jafura desert, a few miles east of Salwa, much to the dissatisfaction of the Ottoman garrison. But Jassim had raced to Doha to protect his son’s fledgling administration on learning that Cox had further chosen to deploy the six-gunned warship Redbreast off the Qatari coast on 10 September. Arriving at Doha, Jassim wrote in Abdullah’s defence that Ahmad bin Salama had been given no welcome in Doha, and that his men had on the contrary attempted to apprehend the fugitive when he was spotted in the town at night. Jassim also insisted that the Turkish commander protest about the presence of the warship. It was enough for the present to ensure that HMS Redbreast withdrew, but clearly the venerable sheikh was concerned that, with no formal treaty between Qatar and Britain, such incidents were likely to be repeated. He was also worried that without any formal understanding between the Third Saudi State in Riyadh and London, Qatar might easily suffer in any confrontation between the two.

  Fortunately for Jassim, his meeting in the Jafura desert had borne fruit. Ibn Saud wished him to broker a political understanding between London and the Third Saudi State. If he were capable of establishing Anglo-Saudi relations on a solid foundation, it would leave Qatar indirectly protected by the British – since all other parties in the southern Gulf would be under an obligation not to invade their neighbours. Jassim secretly sent an urgent letter to the British agent in Bahrain, Francis Prideaux, through Sultan bin Nasir al-Suwaidi, head of the Sudan tribe of Bida, expressing his earnest desire to meet him at Lusail ‘just for a quarter of an hour’, without disclosing the agenda of the proposed meeting. Jassim himself had written and signed the letter. But Prideaux was wary of attending, and sent his interpreter to the meeting on 23 October. Although there is no record of the words spoken at the meeting, it became clear that Jassim had been asked to speak on behalf of Ibn Saud regarding British protection. This was an account of the message delivered by the interpreter back at Manama.

  The resources of Najd are stated to have been strained to the utmost by the recent internecine wars, and Ibn Saud considers that the oases of Hasa and Qatif were always the most profitable possessions of his Wahhabi ancestors. He is anxious therefore to recover the two districts and he proposes that a secret understanding should be arranged between the British Government and himself under which he should be granted British protection from Turkish assaults at sea, in the event of his ever succeeding in driving the Turks, unaided, out of his ancestral dominions. In return for this protection the Amir is willing to bind himself to certain agreements (probably similar to those of the Trucial Chiefs) and to accept a Political Officer to reside at his Court. The details of his secret treaty he wishes to be settled or discussed at an interview which he is ready to give Prideaux either in person, or with his brother representing him, at some convenient rendezvous in the desert.

  Jassim wanted the reply to be given to him ‘only by word of mouth’; he would arrange to forward it to Ibn Saud by ‘trusted messenger’. Prideaux, however, was against such a secret agreement with Ibn Saud in view of Britain’s troubled relationship with the Ottoman government. The authorities in the Gulf therefore sent no immediate reply to this representation. More than eight months later, however, Prideaux was instructed to tell Jassim that the British government was unable to entertain his proposal for Ibn Saud’s protection as British interests were ‘strictly confined to the Coasts of the Gulf’.

  In the meantime, Qatar was experiencing a severe economic depression owing to the lack of rainfall. For want of winter grazing and the unseasonably hot weather in 1907, most of the nomadic tribes of Qatar were obliged to send their sheep, camels and horses to Hasa. Economic conditions in Qatar deteriorated further as the demand for the country’s only export – pearls – evaporated too. No one was set to lose more than Jassim himself; he had invested well over a million Indian rupees. He sent Abdullah to Bombay on 13 April to investigate the collapse personally. Abdullah stayed more than three months, but managed to sell none of his own or h
is father’s stock, even after lowering the price considerably.

  The depreciation of pearls hit the Al Thani income hard, Jassim had to establish a customs house in Doha under the administration of one of his servants, although everyone was opposed to the move. The sheikh was no less loath to establish the tax – after all, opposition to such a tax had been one of the prime motives in his decision to fight the Turks – but the state had lost 50 per cent of its revenue in one year. But the customs house failed to boost finances and the pearl market remained depressed for two years. The elite of Qatar were all on the verge of bankruptcy, though this did not affect them as severely as it would those in other parts of the world. Most had experienced an extreme poverty that would make Oliver Twist’s early life appear exuberant by comparison. In any case, Qatar’s creditors among the general population had no effective means of redress. In such circumstances, it is easy to appreciate that the new tax on shipping was not well received, and Jassim’s son at Wakra, Abd ul-Rahman, began to feel the wrath of the Al bu Aynain. By September 1908, many were refusing to pay the annual tax levied on their pearling boats. Abd ul-Rahman responded by imposing a fine of 10,000 rupees on the tribe and, when they refused to pay, expelled six of their notables from Wakra.

  It is astonishing how seemingly minor issues are welcomed by empires as an opportunity to conduct their pre-planned business. Robert Jenkins was as amazed as fellow contemporaries that his pickled ear, seven years after it was cut off, provided the pretext for a nine-year war with Spain. No one could have imagined the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand would lead to the death of well over ten million people. More recently, it seems that an unproven claim regarding the possession of weapons of mass destruction was a good enough reason to invade Iraq, with its many unforeseen consequences still unfolding. So it was that Qatar’s regional dispute over tax was soon debated in imperial parliaments, attracting their unwanted interest, even after the minor event at Wakra had been resolved amicably. It seemed that both the Ottoman and British empires were determined to escalate a series of high-profile confrontations. By December 1908, three members of the Al bu Aynain tribe of Wakra had paid a visit to Mahir Pasha, Mutasarrif of Hasa, and informed the Pasha that the tribe had settled their difference with Jassim and abandoned their calls for the establishment of an Ottoman military post.