It is a typical example of what is known in this country as a “family honour” case, and it is impossible, in my opinion, to distinguish it from many similar cases in which Your Excellency's predecessors have seen fit to exercise their prerogative of mercy.Footnote 1
Colonial regimes tended to change existing legislation and judicial structures, and to introduce new legal systems. When the previous legal system was partly upheld, and especially when a number of legal systems were already in effect, a complex and plural system would emerge, often with contradictory principles and normative assumptions. As a result, the colonial government faced inevitable dilemmas regarding the priorities it should grant to the different legal systems, and the means it should use to mediate conflicts among the different perspectives. Much has been written over the last few decades concerning the interrelation of colonial expansion and the transformation of law.Footnote 2 The colonial government emphasized the necessity of changing existing legal systems, often portrayed as backward and unsuitable for the functioning of an empire and the global relations embedded in it. New colonial legislation was intended to achieve greater efficiency and the unification of colonial rule and to advance the “civilizing mission” by negating elements of existing traditions and introducing what the colonial rulers considered to be higher levels of morality. However, such changes ran the risk of being perceived as excessive intervention in the subordinated societies, and, therefore, might undermine the legitimacy of the colonial government.Footnote 3
One of the arenas that enable examining such tension between the colonial and the local is the legislation and judicial proceedings regarding crimes against women perceived to have violated the codes of sexual morality. On the one hand, the colonial power considered itself enlightened and the torchbearer of modern civilization and morality and, therefore, committed to the protection of local women.Footnote 4 On the other hand, by the first half of the twentieth century, and possibly much earlier, the British were also well aware of the risks involved in introducing legal change in the spheres of everyday life, personal private lives, and, above all, in those highly gendered aspects of sexuality deeply embedded in custom, tradition, and, often, religion(s).Footnote 5
This article deals with the tension between colonial legislation and the judicial processes of criminal proceedings in Mandate Palestine, on the one hand, and local customs, values, and traditions, which can be considered as “customary law” or code, on the other hand. The tension is studied in relation to the phenomenon of “family honor killing” (FHK) and the manner in which the judicial system of the British Mandate dealt with such crimes. The current study investigates the influence of the social context on the sentencing of such cases during the British Mandate in Palestine. Our assumption is that the need for social control was an integral element in determining the punishment (sentencing and incarceration) for FHK, and that it, in turn, was affected by deep social and political rifts.
The changes that the British colonial legislators introduced in the criminal code relating to homicide mainly aimed at reducing the scope of killings seen as part of a traditional code, in particular FHK. However, an examination of the various levels of the judicial process reveals a far more complex, ambiguous, and often contradictory picture. Although the criminal legal code itself avoided any reference to cultural practices and values as mitigating factors, traditional understandings and communal codes found expression at different stages of the judicial processes and had a critical impact. This multiplicity of seemingly contradictory positions was, we shall argue, a particular example of the more general dilemma faced by British rule, also in other places and times: the dilemma between nonintervention in religion and custom on the one hand, and pressure both from the metropole and the local colonial administration to abolish behaviors seen as morally unacceptable, on the other hand.
Colonialism, Law, and Context
Scholars have argued that although colonial rule created unquestionable power relations between the colonizers and the colonized, each of them had also internal fractures, at times creating internal tensions and conflicts, and at times initiating the crossing of boundaries and the emergence of unexpected alliances.Footnote 6 Furthermore, numerous case studies have demonstrated that colonial law, and especially the different forms of plural legal systems that emerged under colonial rule, enabled some sectors of the colonized to advance their interests.Footnote 7
It has been argued over the last decade or two that the legal and judicial arenas under colonial rule should not be considered solely as arenas for reinforcing the ruler's control, but also as arenas of interaction, in which the ruled populations could exert influence, affect outcomes, and mitigate colonial force. In other words, these spheres may be considered also as arenas of potential action taken by the colonized, within the boundaries enabled by the state, rather than predominantly, or almost exclusively, arenas of passivity and reinforcement of subordination.Footnote 8
In this article we argue that a better understanding of the judicial process of FHK cases requires us to view the criminal process and criminal punishments not simply as representing legal responses to crime, but rather as a social sphere where broader societal concerns and fears regarding threats to the social, economic, political, or moral order are reflected. These concerns and fears, it is argued, are reflected in the sentencing decisions.Footnote 9 Our theoretical perspective acknowledges that penal measures are shaped not solely by patterns of criminality, but also by the state's perceptions of potential social conflicts or political pressure. Some scholars suggest that the social context has a significant influence on decision making in the courtroom. That is, actors in the courtroom do not make decisions in a social vacuum, but are significantly influenced by their social, political, and organizational environment.Footnote 10
This study of British courts in Palestine and their dealing with FHK exemplifies power relations within the judiciary, under the Mandate colonial system, in the specific context of a socially and economically changing Palestinian society, strong hostility toward the British Mandate and Zionist settlement, and deep apprehension regarding foreign influence and its destabilizing impact on relations of gender in a highly patriarchal society. Although this context is particular to Palestine during the British Mandate (1922–1948), the dilemma faced by the British rulers was not unique to Palestine. Colonial rule faced the necessity of establishing its control while it often lacked sovereignty and legitimacy in the eyes of the colonized, local population. The colonizers clearly held power over the colonized, but strove to avoid exacerbating power relations, so as to establish and ensure governability. One of the means of mitigating potentially explosive friction was the policy of avoiding interference in spheres of special importance and sensitivity to the colonized: religion and custom, especially of gendered significance, which were central to the cultural identity of the governed society. However, such commitment clashed with another commitment, that of bringing “civilization” and “enlightenment” from the metropole to the colony. Despite this dual and contradictory orientation, we argue that British colonial rule limited its cultural intervention to circumstances in which strong pressure was applied from the metropole and especially from within the colonized society. In the absence of such pressure, it continued to express its perplexity regarding the above-described dilemma, in a manner that enabled the local population to affect, at least to some extent, the final outcome.
Before discussing the social, political, and legal historical context in Mandate Palestine, it is important to take a closer look at the specific type of homicide that was defined both by members of Palestinian society and by the Mandate judiciary as a crime of “family honor.” We shall then proceed to examine two other phenomena, which created intense dilemmas concerning the need to balance the declared British policy of nonintervention in religion and tradition, and the pressure from the metropole to bring about “civilizing” change; namely, widow immolation in India (sati) and clitoridectomy in Kenya.Footnote 11
The brief discussion will serve as a reference point enabling the reader to discern both similarities and differences between these two phenomena and the handling of FHK cases in Palestine under the Mandate Palestine.
Family Honor Killing
FHK is understood by contemporary scholars to be embedded in the basic tenets of patriarchal societies, as integral to men's control over women in general and to men's control over women's bodies in particular, as discussed at length in a number of recent collections.Footnote 12 More specifically, FHK is an extreme case of gender-based violent crime. These acts can be triggered by one form or other of actual, suspected, or rumored breach of accepted codes of behavior attributed to women, usually related at least to some extent, to women's sexuality. Welchman and Hossain propose the following broad definition of “crimes of honor.” “[We] use the term ‘crimes of honour’ to encompass a variety of manifestations of violence against women, including ‘honour killings’, assault, confinement, imprisonment, and interference in choice in marriage, where the publicly articulated ‘justification’ is attributed to a social order claimed to require the preservation of a concept of ‘honour’ vested in male (family and/or conjugal) control over women's sexual conduct: actual, suspected or potential.”Footnote 13
The concept of FHK mentioned in the opening quote does not appear in criminal legal codes. Such an act was (and still is) an outcome of the harsh restrictions imposed on women by their male relatives, fearing that women's sexuality will endanger the male status and bring down the hierarchies of male power as a result of men's assumed inability to control and govern “their” women's behavior. Women, whose sexuality was an ever-present threat, were totally forbidden to engage in any extramarital sexual relations. They were surrounded by additional restrictions such as avoiding any proximity to unrelated men, and refraining from being on their own with an (unrelated) man, providing him with any service, or touching him whether by chance or on purpose. The danger perceived by such forms of behavior was the result of the significance attributed to women, whose bodies were seen to mark the boundaries of the collective and whose respectability indicated the power and authority of the patriarchal clan.Footnote 14 There is a dispute among scholars about the appropriate discourse when describing the murder of women in such circumstances. Some argue that no distinction should be made between FHK and the Western phenomenon of the murder of women by husbands as a result of jealousy and claims of infidelity termed “crimes of passion.”Footnote 15 They believe that as women are the victims in both cases, and both stem from patriarchal power of men over “their” women, they should be identified by the same term, namely “femicide.”Footnote 16 But although we appreciate the common denominators of FHK and “crimes of passion,” we hold that the emphasis on “honor,” the involvement of the agnate family, and the discourse of highly valued norms and traditions pursued by all those defending the accused, warrant separate treatment.Footnote 17
In the social context of Palestine, a largely, although not exclusively, rural society, cases of FHK were often the outcome of a prolonged, gradually unfolding series of events, in which a woman was perceived as behaving in contradiction to the required codes of modesty, morality, and obedience. Over time, rumors became more and more persistent. In some cases, women recurrently left their homes, in others they refused to accept their brothers’ authority, whereas in still other cases, there were repeated scuffles between wife and husband (who was often also the wife's cousin) with resounding shouts heard by everybody in the densely populated village or urban neighborhood. In contrast to this common characteristic of gradually evolving events that continuously increase pressure on the male agnates to put an end to the “family shame,” the circumstances leading to FHK were presented very differently at court. The criminal law, both the Ottoman Penal Code in effect in Palestine until 1937, and the Palestine Criminal Code Ordinance–1936 (PCCO–1936), focused on the difference between manslaughter and murder, the latter being a case of premeditated homicide. An immediate and sudden provocation could serve the defense as an argument for manslaughter, rejecting the charge of murder. Thus, the victim was portrayed by the defense as having caused an unexpected and unsuspected surprise, an immoral sexual act that caught the perpetrator unsuspecting and off guard. Such a portrayal, in line with the provisions of the criminal code, served to conceal the social reality of communal and family relations and the nature of FHK as the outcome of prolonged and gradually escalating circumstances.
Scholars have recently emphasized the necessity to contextualize and historicize such homicide. They stress the importance of avoiding a portrayal of such an act as an ahistorical custom, existing unchanged for centuries, and of referring to “culture” as a static set of values and practices around which there is little negotiation or variation.Footnote 18 Such a historicized analysis does not negate the existence of culture and custom, but examines the way they are shaped and implemented under a range of specific historical conditions.Footnote 19 We assume that this holds also true for cases of FHK in Palestine. It can certainly be expected that different sectors of Palestinian society, such as urban and rural, middle class and working class, held different positions regarding women's status in society, sexuality, and penalties incurred in cases of violation of accepted norms and practices. It can also be assumed that in a changing and dynamic society, attitudes and opinions regarding violence against women in general and FHK in particular were in flux during this crucial period. However, we shall argue that in the judicial arena of the colonial state, which is the focus of our study, a particular concept and understanding of FHK was used. This concept obscured the complexity and diversity of attitudes toward honor, and in turn represented a monolithic and seemingly static position. As will be discussed in detail, the concept of family honor was portrayed in different judicial instances and by various actors, as a binding social requirement, reinforced by custom, tradition, and, at times, religion, thus creating a uniform understanding of communal codes of honor.
Dilemmas of Imperial Rule
The commonest class of murder, indeed, is that committed, as it is said, to protect family honour. […] One of the perplexing problems of mingled morality and administration arises when a capital sentence passed upon a man who has committed the crime in obedience to the dictates of the village or the tribal codes, comes up for consideration.Footnote 20
Norman Bentwich, the first attorney general in Palestine (1922–1931), here addressed the issue of what he defined as murder based on village or tribal codes, to vindicate family honor that was said to have been desecrated by women's immorality. The situation of an administration facing acts it considered alien to its own morality, was indeed “perplexing.” As will be described, the issue of the murder of women committed to protect family honor did not, despite Bentwich's claim to its relative frequency, arouse much discussion, controversy, or pressures for intervention. It did lead to some changes in the penal code in 1936 (discussed subsequently), but these were then mitigated by the actual practice of the judicial system and procedure. The overall disregard of this “perplexing” situation, or the absence of an outright and explicit discussion of it as a dilemma facing the administration, stands in striking contrast to comparable issues in other parts of the British Empire, above all, that of widow immolation in India and to a somewhat lesser extent, clitoridectomy. The large body of scholarly work concerning the sati enables us to highlight the similarities and differences between that phenomenon and the policy toward FHK in Mandate Palestine.
Probably most striking is the centrality of widow immolation in the perception of India and the large and varied body of writing on it, both in Britain and in India, from the second half of the eighteenth century until the present.Footnote 21 During the colonial period, those writing on sati included officials of the East India Company, the governor generals, and, later, officials of the British Raj, government officials in London, feminists and elite women in London, reformers in India and members of the religious leadership, and, finally, many scholars, who dealt at length with British imperial policy regarding the sati during the colonial period.Footnote 22 In contrast, there appears to be almost no writing concerning the killing of women in Palestine for the protection of family honor, nor are there any explicit debates or controversies concerning the required or advisable position of the British administration. There do not appear to have been any initiatives of British feminists or MPs or of the various missionaries, who played an important role pressuring the colonial administration in India and in Kenya, into action. Finally, there does not appear to be any writing on the subject by organizations and movements within Palestine, as there were, once again, mainly in India, but also to a much smaller extent in Kenya. As far as we can tell, there was no discussion of the issue of FHK by the Palestinian women's movement, or at least no such reference is made in the writings of Matiel Mughannam, one of the movement's leaders, nor in the writing of academic scholars.Footnote 23
The discussion on sati (India) and clitoridectomy (Kenya) also highlights the disinclination of the British colonial administration to intervene in issues potentially related to religion and custom. This was the case despite the importance attributed by both imperial officials and, later, scholars to the “civilizing mission” that the Empire claimed to take upon itself. This was the official and formal British policy from the second half of the eighteenth until the early nineteenth centuries in India, and in the late nineteenth and most of the twentieth centuries in Kenya.Footnote 24 The pressure in both cases came from outside the government and administration, initially from the missionary movement and from women activists in Britain. A discussion of the shift in British policy regarding the sati is beyond the scope of this article, but suffice to say that the decision to criminalize all forms of sati was taken in 1829, in conjunction with the Bengal reform movement, led by Rammohun Roy, which strongly opposed widow immolation.Footnote 25
In addition to the commitment to nonintervention in religious matters, British rule both in India and in Kenya strove to avoid arousing public opposition.Footnote 26 Indeed, in both cases, British intervention did arouse objection. In India, public opposition did flare up, although in a limited form, because of growing opposition to sati in India itself, whereas in Kenya the opposition was most striking near 1930, and once again in the early 1950s. Public opposition to the prohibition of clitoridectormy and the fact that the Kenya national movement joined in led the British to decide against legal criminalization.Footnote 27
The issue of rural women in Iraq under tribal/customary codes leads to similar conclusions. According to Efrati, unlike in Palestine, the British applied civil and penal state legislation in the urban centers in Iraq, and applied tribal regulations in the large rural areas.Footnote 28 Under these regulations, as admitted and acknowledged by British officials, women were subjected to severe conditions, among them exchange of women as part of tribal agreements of conciliation, imposed marriage to agnate cousins as demanded or approved by the woman's brothers, and finally, the killing of women by their relatives in response to what was seen as the breaking of tribal moral codes. Despite some initiative of British judges in Iraq to treat such killings as criminal cases to be tried in accordance with the Baghdad Penal Code (in effect in urban centers), most senior British officials, including Henry Dobbs, the High Commissioner in the 1920s, opposed any interference liable to weaken the force of the tribal regulations and thus destabilize the system of British rule.Footnote 29 In Palestine, despite the lack of documentation of the deliberations of the Mandate administration concerning FHK, we argue that one can discern a similar hesitation to interfere in what the British perceived as custom and tradition, although to a far lesser extent than in Iraq. FHK was legally considered a homicide like any other. However, it is evident that the British tried to mitigate the severity of the law by taking into account local norms as expressed by members of the family and community, a practice not unlike British policy and inclination in other parts of the Empire.
Finally, feminist scholars who have dealt extensively with the colonial policy toward sati have repeatedly noted that, despite the immense amount of debate, controversy, reporting, and documenting of the phenomenon and of cases of widow immolation, almost no reference is made to the women themselves, their inclination and its motivation, or to their particular life story and experience.Footnote 30 As will be discussed, in the case of Palestine, in the absence of almost any discussion of the phenomenon of FHK, the murdered women, not surprisingly, have no voice whatsoever.
The British Mandate in Palestine: Political, Social, and Legal Change
The League of Nations granted the British a Mandate for Palestine with the defeat of the Ottoman Empire. The Mandate system was a new colonial form that appeared, at least at the declaratory level, to suit post-World War I conditions. It was intended as a transitory stage, in which the governed territory would achieve autonomous rule and eventual independence, under the supervision of the Mandate power. Regardless of the extent to which the British as a Mandate power did or did not consider their rule to be short term and temporary, their declared position was one of “guidance” rather than incorporation into the Empire and, at least to some extent, British culture. For self-legitimation, colonial rule can be expected to place less emphasis on broader aspects of its “civilizing mission,” and to focus instead on its ability to provide sound governance and enable a relatively smooth transition to self-rule.Footnote 31
The situation in Palestine was far more complex than in the neighboring British and French Mandates. Because of the commitment of the British, stated in the Palestine Mandate Memorandum, to promote a Jewish National Home in Palestine, its relations with the Palestinian Arab majority were fraught, and riven with contradictions, unsolvable controversies, and recurring violent hostilities.Footnote 32 The clashes between the Palestinian and the Zionist national movements, respectively, and the British created severe difficulties for the Mandate government. The Arab Revolt of 1936–39 and the harsh means of repression and punishment employed by the Mandate government brought the confrontation to a climax, at a time of growing threat of war in Europe and its global ramifications.Footnote 33 Furthermore, the colonial judicial system was explicitly targeted by the leaders of the Revolt, and strong pressure was exerted on the Palestinian population and on the Mukhtars not to cooperate with the state courts but to turn to the courts of the rebels instead.Footnote 34
Under these conditions, and considering the Mandate government's limited commitment to the goal of “civilizatory change” in general, and gendered change in particular, it seems reasonable to assume that the government and its judiciary system hardly wanted to open any additional arenas of confrontation with the local Arab society. Therefore, it could be expected to seek a balance between its imperial target of retaining order by legislating a more severe penal code, and its desire to avoid new lines of confrontation. This balance can be seen in the different approach to convictions related to the Arab Revolt, as compared with the approach to FHK. Although the law in Palestine was binding, and the judicial system relatively independent, there was nevertheless a striking difference in the judicial prosecution and final sentencing of offenses, related to the Arab Revolt in Palestine, as compared with the murder of women by their agnate relatives. In other words, capital punishment was applied in cases related to the Revolt against the British rule, whereas they were only very rarely applied in cases understood as FHK. During the Revolt, hundreds of Palestinians were incarcerated, and 112 Arabs were executed in the central prison of Acre for security offenses.Footnote 35 Some of them were elderly villagers, who were executed for mere possession of a revolver or cartridge clip.Footnote 36 These executions reflect a “zero tolerance” policy of the British Mandate during the Revolt.
Among the processes of change and the ensuing apprehension pervading Palestinian society, processes with a direct impact on gendered relations potentially destabilizing patriarchal hierarchies warrant particular attention. Palestinian society was undergoing a process of urbanization, at times on a temporary, seasonal basis.Footnote 37 In such cases, men would leave their villages and spend some time in urban, usually coastal, centers with more employment opportunities, returning to their villages every so often. The temporary departure from the villages greatly increased during World War II, when the armed forces recruited large numbers of workers for the camps established in all parts of Palestine. It may well be that the men's departure from the village loosened social control over women and, regardless of women's actual patterns of behavior, enhanced a sense of insecurity and apprehension lest their behavior cast a shadow on the family reputation.
The fear that change may be at hand regarding women's position was exacerbated by the development of women's organizations and movements in Palestine and in neighboring countries. A detailed discussion of this issue is beyond the scope of this article, but recent scholarship points to the salience of the demand for change focusing on education for women, the moderating of women's segregation, equal standards of morality, and employment options for women. The social conservative criticism leveled at such goals claimed them to be the women organizations’ adoption of the modernization, Westernization, and feminism exemplified and promoted by the imperialist powers, threatening “authentic” Arab and/or Muslim culture.Footnote 38
A narrow yet influential stratum of elite women in Palestine obtained education, organized women's associations, joined political activities to advance the national cause, and pursued urban employment.Footnote 39 These initial changes in women's status, the new options opening up to them, and the new models that could be adopted, together with the weakening of patriarchal social control, may well have contributed to making the issue of women's position and behavior an especially loaded and sensitive one. Under such conditions, and given that protecting women from violence was not one of the government's declared goals, nor was it a goal raised by the women's movement or by national spokesmen, the government could be expected to avoid exacerbating existing tensions on such grounds. In other words, when the penal code was put into action regarding the killing of women, it was expected that some form of leniency would be shown toward the accused, in line with accepted public opinion, albeit within the limits afforded by the law.
The British colonial administration saw Palestine as a country with a very high murder rate. In his memoires, written shortly after his departure from Palestine, Norman Bentwich claimed that “Capital cases are still terribly rife in the land, and murder is committed on the slightest provocation.” He referred mainly to “murder committed, as it is said, to protect the family honour” and to “the blood feud which is handed down from generation to generation.”Footnote 40 This perception, whether accurate or not, established the basis for the debate on the homicide sections in the new penal code. The desire to introduce a code that would be stricter than the Ottoman Penal Code, which was in effect at the time, and that would thus minimize capital offenses, was manifest in the controversy between Chief Justice Michael McDonnell and Attorney General Bentwich. McDonnell called for the transplanting to Palestine of the British penal principles, as embodied in the Queensland Penal Code. Bentwich, on the other hand, called for a code closer to the Ottoman one and, therefore, closer to the understanding of the local community.Footnote 41
Under the Ottoman Penal Code, the defense could quite easily claim that the defendant had been provoked and should, therefore, be charged with manslaughter rather than murder. Under article 188 of the Ottoman Penal Code, he might even be excused or pardoned, if he could prove that he saw his wife/mistress or one of his close female relatives performing an act of adultery.Footnote 42 In contrast, the new code did not refer to the victim being the wife of the perpetrator or his agnate female relative as a mitigating factor. Only under the circumstances of a sudden and unexpected provocative event, could the defendant claim to have lost his “cold blood” and the ability to assess his actions and their result. These changes had profound implications for the conviction of perpetrators in “honor killing” cases. Under the Ottoman Penal Code, a perpetrator might get away with no punishment or with a short term of imprisonment, whereas after the enactment of the PCCO–1936, the same perpetrator would probably receive either a much longer term of imprisonment for manslaughter, with no mitigating factors, or the death penalty for murder. As will be discussed, the desire of the British to lower the homicide rate in Palestine by enacting a stricter criminal code and meting out severer punishments was undermined by the need to take public opinion into account, to refrain from interfering with tradition and custom as much as possible, and to ease governability under conditions of tension and hostility.
The final outcome, the PCCO–1936, was a compromise between the British and the Ottoman (French-based) penal codes. Homicide was considered, a priori, to be a case of manslaughter, as in the Ottoman code, rather than a case of murder, as in the British code. However, the new code made it easier for the prosecution to argue its case for a murder charge.
Methodology
Our study is based on twenty-nine court cases, in which women were killed by their husbands and/or agnate male relatives, and in which one or more of the actors involved, whether the perpetrator, the petition writers, or any of the legal practitioners defined the case as involving “family honor.” The court files are located in the Israel State Archive (ISA) in Jerusalem, the archive of the Israel Supreme Court (ISC) in Jerusalem, and The National Archive (TNA) of the British Empire in Kew, London. Though some of them did not pass through all the instances mentioned, all of them passed through at least one trial court and reached the Supreme Court (SC) of Appeal. Some also contain statements to the police and to the magistrate. The relatively small number of cases is because of the difficulty of obtaining court files in the Israeli archival system and the very small number of cases sent by the British administration in Palestine to the Colonial Office in London.Footnote 43 Only cases that reached the Supreme Court can be retrieved, as there is no index of the cases heard only before a District Court or a Court of Criminal Assize.Footnote 44 The minutes of the cases, as they are found in the archives, are all in English (typed), although some of the files contain statements in Arabic as given originally by members of the local population, prior to translation. Regrettably we know very little about the process of note taking, but an examination of the accuracy of the translation indicates that the translation was accurate with few tilts and biases.
The majority of the cases available to us took place in the late 1930s and the 1940s.Footnote 45 Cases from the 1920s are not available in the ISA or in the archive of the ISC, nor are they included in collections of court rulings published in the 1940s that helped us locate some of the files. The concentration of most cases in the 1940s may be the result of the transition in 1937 from the Ottoman Penal Code to the PCCO–1936, which probably led to more cases of capital punishment, more appeals to the SC, and more cases available in the archives. Other archival factors may be responsible for the concentration of most cases in a span of less than 15 years. The high commissioner and his Executive Council commuted capital punishment to imprisonment in all but two cases.Footnote 46 It is, therefore, not possible to distinguish variations over time, among judges or according to the particularities of the case.
In almost all of the cases, the SC confirmed the judgment and sentence of the trial court. In addition to the minutes of both instances, some of the files contain the petitions and letters sent to the high commissioner, and his final decision. These cases are crucial for the study of the judicial system, as they present a direct confrontation between the legal codes and the communal understanding, which was not mitigated at lower instances. Our analysis of these cases will trace the strategies and the reactions of every player (defendants, judges, attorneys, the high commissioner, and the local community) during the judicial process. In doing so, we study the dynamics of confrontation between the colonial-legal discourse, predominant in the judicial instances, and the communal-traditional discourse, of prime importance in the appeal to the executive.
A case of homicide was usually reported to the police authorities by the Mukhtar, who was obliged by law to report all criminal events in the community. Although it is quite possible that some cases of homicide were glossed over as accidents, once a murder was publicly known and witnessed by others it was most probably brought to the attention of the Mukhtar, who reported it to the authorities. The crime was investigated on the spot by police officers and medical practitioners; statements were taken by the police; and the case was then heard by the examining magistrate. The trial took place before the District Court in the case of an offense of manslaughter, and before the Court of Criminal Assize in the case of murder.Footnote 47 If the latter convicted the accused of murder, the sentence was inevitably capital punishment. In cases of capital punishment for murder, an appeal was submitted to the SC, and if rejected, the case moved on from the judicial system to the executive, the high commissioner and his Executive Council.Footnote 48 As will be discussed, the transition from the judiciary to the chief executive authority was of great importance in cases of FHK, for allowing the local population to intervene in ways that were no longer available to them through the judicial system itself.
Law in Action: Court Cases
In the following section we shall discuss “law in action,” court cases in which the perpetrator was accused of homicide defined as “honor killing.” We shall examine the way the tension between the colonial criminal legislation and the communal, normative codes was played out by different actors, in the different instances through which the cases evolved. In our analysis, we focus on four critical phases: the statement of the accused to the police and some of his later statements, the judges of the Court of Criminal Assize, the judges of the SC, and the reviews and petitions to the high commissioner.
The Statements of the Accused to the Police and Evidence in Court: The Shift from the Communal to the Legal
The opening phase of the legal process was characterized by a shift from the community to the criminal justice system. The clearest demonstration of the shift can be seen by comparing the evidence given by the accused at court with his earlier statement to the police. The change in the perpetrator's story took various forms. In some cases the accused gave two different statements to the police, whereas in others he remained silent in the Magistrate's Court, as was his right, and presented his case only at the trial court. In all cases, the later statement was geared to showing provocation, which would rule out premeditated action. Therefore, the first statement given by the perpetrator upon his arrest was more likely to reveal his motivation: his drive to wipe out the conduct that he saw as marring the honor of the family, by killing his agnate relative (sister, cousin, or aunt). A second statement to the police, when such was given, tended to change the retelling of the event, so as to attribute much more significance to the immediacy of the provocation, portraying it as unexpected and unsuspected.
The portrayal of the event and the act changed by the time it reached the Court of Criminal Assize. The overall context of the event was not elaborated, but instead, the description focused on an immediate, unexpected, unsuspected provocation and its impact on the accused. This shift was meant to adjust the accused's statement to the rationale of the criminal code, in other words, to shift the emphasis from the overall context, in which the perpetrator's resolution evolved in a premeditated manner, to an immediate “provocation,” which would rule out the possibility of “cold blooded” premeditation.Footnote 49
A number of examples will demonstrate the shifts made by the perpetrators in their presentation of their actions. Kamel Ahmed Hussein el-Majdoub gave two statements to the police. El-Majdoub admitted killing his aunt Jamal.Footnote 50 In his first statement he described returning to the village from the army camp where he worked, and hearing that his aunt's husband had divorced her because of adultery; he then went to her house and killed her. In his second statement, 10 days later, he shifted from hearsay to eyesight. He omitted any prior information, and described his going to his aunt's to have a cup of coffee. Upon entering her hut, he recounted, he saw a man lying upon her. The sudden total surprise made his blood boil, and he acted on the spot. The change introduced by el-Majdoub turned his story into a typical narration of “provocation” and “hot blood.” He saw with his own eyes, he “lost his head”: as a result, and he used the instrument left behind by the adulterer rather than one he himself prepared or carried on him.
Atiyeh Faraj, as well, gave two statements to the police.Footnote 51 Immediately after his arrest he admitted to having killed his cousin Rifqa, but refused to give any explanation. Her parents described an ongoing conflict between Atiyeh and their daughter, because of her refusal to give any details concerning a man who had attacked Atiyeh's wife. Six days after his arrest, Atiyeh requested to make another statement to the police. In this statement he gave his version of what had happened between him and his cousin, which seemingly could justify his act or at least clarify it. He spoke of his total shock when, upon getting up at night to urinate, he saw, so he recounted, his married cousin Rifqa having intercourse with a stranger in a nearby backyard. The man escaped, and Faraj, whose blood was set boiling by this horrific sight, killed his cousin hardly knowing what he was doing. He stuck to this story in the trial court, which remained unconvinced.
Mahmoud Hassan el-Soury also attempted to add an element of sudden provocation to his testimony in the Court of Criminal Assize.Footnote 52 In his statement to the police, after killing his 17-year-old sister, he admitted to the act, and said that his sister had insisted on visiting their mother, who had remarried and moved elsewhere, in opposition to his adamant objection. By the time he gave evidence in the Court of Criminal Assize he recounted his suspicion lest his sister had a lover. When he arrived home from work, he told the court, he could not find his sister, and later that evening she would not tell him where she had been. The anger and suspicion provoked him into action, and he stabbed his sister numerous times. From a case of disobedience to the older brother's patriarchal authority, he devised a case that would, he hoped, fit the legal definition of provocation, which would preclude premeditation.
Finally, we shall elaborate on the case of Imkheibir Kataf, who significantly changed his detailed statement to the police when he gave a similarly detailed account to the Court of Criminal Assize.Footnote 53 Imkheibir admitted to killing his cousin Tamam. She had left her husband in their village Ihrak in southern Syria and had gone to her brother, who lived on the outskirts of Jaffa, where her cousin Imkheibir and his brother also lived. After killing Tamam, Imkheibir escaped and was arrested the following day by police. In his first statement to the police he gave a detailed account of Tamam's behavior (according to him) in their village in Syria, of her immorality and of his threats and warnings. All the events, which he described in his statement to the police, had taken place (according to his account) way in advance of the incident for which he was charged.
Once Imkheibir and his cousin Ibrahim learned that Tamam had left her husband and gone to Jaffa, he continued to recount, he attempted to induce her to return, planning to kill her on the way, before reaching the village. Apparently aware of the danger, Tamam refused. Imkheibir then described how a female neighbor in Jaffa taunted him and told him of Tamam's intention to go to a brothel in Jaffa, and he continued
I straightaway went to Tamam's dwelling place at Um el-'Aileh, Jaffa, and found her alone there. I said to her: “I beseech you, Oh my cousin, I am without work today, will you accompany me to the Sakneh and wash my clothes for me?” She replied – “I will not go”. I entreated her much and gave her one pound, and consequently she accepted and came with me. I took her to my place at Sakneh Abu Kbeir. Upon entering my place she said—”Where are the clothes for washing? I am in a hurry and busy”. I said to her: “Do you know that I have clothes for washing?!” and I immediately closed the door with a wire and drew a knife which I had with me and stabbed her therewith on her body—I do not know on which part—and she fell on the floor…Footnote 54
This statement would certainly fit a case of carefully premeditated murder. During the trial itself the accused changed his narrative. The whole social communal context was removed. He focused on the day of the event, described Tamam's coming to his hut to wash his clothes as a routine event (rather than a planned snare), and created in his narrative an unexpected and unsuspected provocation. This provocation would then be used according to the legal rationale, to claim that it caused him to lose his ability to calculate his actions properly, and that, therefore, he could not be accused of premeditated homicide (i.e., murder). According to his statement at court, Imkheibir left Tamam alone in his hut. When returning unexpectedly to his hut “….I saw it closed, I pulled the door and I broke the wire which fastened the door. When I entered I saw Muhammad Nimr having intercourse with the victim. I went off my head, drew my knife and wanted to kill Nimr who ran away. When he ran away I stabbed the victim […] When I saw Nimr having intercourse with the victim I became like a crazy man. I never thought of killing the victim. […] I was dizzy all the time and only ‘discovered’ myself in the Police station.”Footnote 55
The accused changed his statement to achieve a tighter fit to the reasoning of the criminal code. This shift removed, to a major extent, the communal context, which was given some presence in the earlier statement, substituting it with a narrative that emphasized direct observation and sudden provocation arousing a passionate and uncontrollable response. Here as in the previous cases, the change in the account was constructed according to the logic of the criminal code, to enable the defendant to clear himself from the accusation of murder. It is interesting to note that judging from the minutes, neither the prosecution nor the court appear to have queried this discrepancy in the abovementioned cases. The perpetrator was not asked to present evidence during the trial that would substantiate the second statement as compared with the first, nor was he cross-examined on specific points in his earlier statements. The ruling did state that the court accepted one version over the other, but did not seem to find it necessary to elaborate the grounds for its decision.
The Judges of the Trial Court: The Court of Criminal Assize
In most cases, the judges, both British and Arab, remained soundly within the bounds of the legal definitions and criteria. The judges considered the evidence presented to them in relation to the criteria of premeditation to determine murder or manslaughter. The issue of honor, or more generally of customary codes, did not appear as a mitigating factor in the criminal code, and, therefore, the judges of the Court of Criminal Assize did not refer to them in their rulings. In the detailed ruling, the judges discussed the three conditions elaborated in Section 216 of the PCCO–1936 for a conviction for murder, and examined the extent to which the evidence presented to the court substantiated each of the three. They did not generalize from one subsection to another but considered it necessary to find evidence for each of the three requirements: (a) Resolution to kill; (b) Cold blood with no immediate provocation; and (c) Preparation to kill. The manner in which each of the requirements was interpreted is not of interest here, but the fact that these requirements were the concern of the court, on which it based its judgment, is. This may account for the detailed discussion of each requirement and the attempt to convincingly substantiate the court's decision.
The ethnic identity of the judges, an important factor in some respects, as discussed by Likhovski,Footnote 56 does not appear to have played a consistent role in determining provocation, and hence manslaughter versus murder, as will be demonstrated in the following section. On no occasion did the Arab judges accept the story told by the accused, aimed at convincing the court that he had faced an immediate and surprising provocation. They were not more credulous than the British judges regarding the often unlikely situations constructed by the perpetrators. Nevertheless, the Arab judges were split regarding the appropriate sentence. In some cases they fully agreed with the British judges and accepted the judgment according to which lack of provocation meant murder and hence, capital punishment. In other cases some, although not all, of the Arab judges seem to have tried to avoid the sentence for murder, even while denying provocation. We suggest that, as expressed by Judge Daoudi, quoted subsequently, their understanding of the social pressure of tradition and custom under which the accused acted, led them to find legal outlets that would warrant the sentence of manslaughter rather than murder, thus avoiding capital punishment.
Muhammad Ahmad Salem Ishreim, who had killed both his mother-in-law and his wife, in the home of the wife's grandmother, attempted to claim that he had been provoked by hearing voices and by seeing two men in the house through the open door.Footnote 57 The court remained unconvinced. After dismissing the latter possibility, the court examined each of the three required conditions. They concluded that the first condition 216 (a), the resolution to kill, was proven “beyond a shadow of a doubt” by the numerous and fatal knife stabs. Condition 216 (b), the lack of an immediate provocation, was also accounted for, as the judges accepted the grandmother's testimony that no men had been in her house at the time. Finally, 216 (c) required proof of preparation, which was provided, according to the judges, by the dagger held in the hand of the accused as he entered the grandmother's home. Therefore, rather than adopting the discourse of tradition and honor; for example, the abuse of honor of a husband whose wife had left home and gone to town for an extended period with her mother, they focused on the requirements of the Criminal Code. This approach was shared in this case by the two British judges, Randolph Copland and Bernard Vidal Shaw, and the Arab judge Francis Khayat. In the case of el-Soury mentioned previously,Footnote 58 Judges Clive Currie, Clayton Rigby and Elias Khoury examined each of the requirements of Section 216 in a similar fashion: the numerous fatal stabs of the dagger indicated resolution to kill; the suspicion that the sister possibly had a lover was not considered by any of the judges to meet the criteria for provocation; and once again the dagger indicated preparation.
In another case, that against Ali Ibn Salameh Jadii, direct reference was made by the judges to “honor” and custom; however, these factors were not taken into account when elaborating the court's verdict. “Honor” was acknowledged by the court as a social reality. “We think that it is clear that the circumstances in which she [the murdered woman, the married cousin of the accused] went away with the other man, would be such as to raise the anger of her male relations, in that they would think that she had brought dishonour on them. She had no brother nor father, and the accused might well deem that the question of honour would fall upon him together with other members of the family.”Footnote 59
Nevertheless, the possible sense of duty suggested by the court was not considered relevant to the court's decision. When deciding upon premeditated homicide, the court once again discussed the three requirements of Section 216, rather than any social custom or any communal pressure on the accused.Footnote 60
A further variation of acknowledging custom and “honor,” while convicting according to the Criminal Code with no mitigating considerations, was the case heard by the District Court against Muhammad Hassan Said Shihadeh.Footnote 61 The case, in which the accused was convicted of “unlawfully causing the death of his sister,” demonstrates the manner in which the two Arab judges of the Jaffa District Court, Aziz Daoudi and Said Toukan, indirectly and implicitly referred to custom, but rejected it as a consideration for the court while deciding on conviction. Shihadeh claimed to have seen a man alone with his sister in her room. Although the judges knew that according both to Muslim lawFootnote 62 and custom,Footnote 63 such a circumstance would be interpreted as indicating intimate sexual relations, they made no direct and explicit reference to this fact. They seem to be implying that the Legal Code did not include any such consideration, and that the Code alone was what determined their conviction. “The accused might have seen a certain person in his sister's room,” they wrote, “but that alone, that is seeing a stranger in his sister's room, does not justify killing his sister because the law in force does not allow him to do what he did […].”Footnote 64 However, there were also variations on this point. In some cases, dissenting opinions of Arab judges did consider communal customs, tradition, or duties, as the defendants perceived them, to be relevant, even if only hesitantly, to their final decision.
The dissenting opinion in case of Fatmeh Tamam may serve as an illustration.Footnote 65 The two brothers of the Infiat Bedouin tribe were accused of killing their sister, Fatmeh, in December 1932. After her husband had died, Fatmeh wanted to marry another member of the tribe, Ibrahim Jauhar, to whom her brothers strongly objected because he was black, and considered to be a servant or slave. She nevertheless continued her relationship with him, seeking to obtain the Shari'a court's endorsement of their marriage. Once she became pregnant, her brothers’ attitude became more threatening, and Fatmeh turned to the police for help. One day, when Fatmeh took her grain to the mill, her brothers allegedly attacked her and beat her to death with their clubs (naboot). Their claim that they had found her having intercourse with the “black Ibrahim,” was rejected by all judges, two British and two Arab, as totally unconvincing. The majority of the judges, two British and one Arab, convicted one of the brothers for murder.Footnote 66 The judges stuck to the need to prove that the act was intended and planned, to which they referred in their ruling. “We believe that the accused carried the naboot and axe exhibited in court (weapons of a lethal nature) […] and that it was carried by accused that day with the intention and for the purpose for which we find that it was subsequently used. We are satisfied that prior to the crime the accused had given an undertaking to a Police Officer not to molest his sister. We are also satisfied that he had on the day of the murder or prior thereto formed the intention to commit the murder.”Footnote 67
The dissenting opinion of Judge Aziz Daoudi is a complex document. He rejected the “provocation” described by the Tamam brothers, but was not satisfied that the killing of Fatmeh should be considered cold-blooded, intended, premeditated murder
It is quite probable that when on the day of the crime, accused Khader met his sister he was impetuous and discussed with her the question of her unlawful pregnancy as well as her misconduct contrary to the Bedouins practices and habits. The result of the discussion was that he rashingly killed her […] The causes connected with this murder call really for mitigation of the penalty, in that the victim had acted contrary to the habits adopted by the Bedouins, by associating with a negro and her pregnancy from him unlawfully and thus defaming her brothers. I feel that the crime is grave and hideous, as it was committed with a pregnant woman who in pursuance of the European practices, being in full age, is at perfect liberty to act and behave as she likes and wishes. But meanwhile I sympathize [sic] the accused who cannot act contrary to the habits whereon he was brought up. His mentality pushed him to do the duty. It was in view of these facts that the accused himself calling upon the police srgnt. said to him: Open to me the door of the Prison and admit me in, because I have killed my whore sister.Footnote 68
Judge Daoudi's dissenting opinion conveyed his own dilemma and his understanding of the contrasting forces at play in Palestinian society. He himself considered the crime to be “grave and hideous.” The victim was pregnant, which meant that an unborn child was also killed. However, the act was not simply a heinous act. It was the outcome, he claimed, of a sharp clash between the European impact, which he assumed had affected Fatmeh, and the habits and codes that he considered to have had such a powerful hold over the perpetrator. The sentence, he claimed, should take this clash into account. Judge Daoudi did not want the perpetrator to be fully excused. He called for a punishment of 10 years’ imprisonment with hard labor. However, he was looking for a way to take into account both the requirements of the law, and his understanding of custom and social requirements. Referring to Section 216 (c), which called for the proof of preparation, he claimed that the criterion had not been sufficiently fulfilled.Footnote 69 This would enable him to moderate the sentence from murder to manslaughter, even though the PCCO–1936 did not explicitly take tradition and custom into account as mitigating factors.
The Supreme Court of Appeal
The criminal appeal focused on the assessment of the decisions of the previous instance and retained the same criminal code discourse. However, because of the importance of the SC and the exemplary role of its decisions, there were cases in which the justices explicitly referred to what could be seen, or what was presented to them, as “the cultural aspect of the crime,” to a far greater extent than the Court of Criminal Assize. For this reason, we have chosen to deal separately with the two instances, despite the fact that in all the cases we studied, both focused exclusively on the wording of the PCCO–1936 regarding homicide and the criteria for provocation.
The three judges of the SC, who dealt with the appeal submitted by one of Palestine's leading legal professionals, Henry Cattan, in 1946, included two British Justices, Chief Justice William FitzGerald and Justice Bernard Vidal. Shaw, and one Arab Justice, Justice Majid Abdulhadi. They fully agreed on dismissing Imkheibir's appeal against the sentence passed by the Court of Criminal Assize.Footnote 70 In their detailed ruling, the justices referred to the claim put forward by Cattan. It is beyond the scope of our discussion here to present Cattan's argument in detail. Suffice to say that Cattan, Imkheibir's attorney, was himself incredulous concerning the story that his client devised, and made it clear that he did not expect the court to accept it. Instead, he suggested a more feasible situation, in which an argument had taken place between Imkheibir and his cousin Tamam. As the former was already extremely angry at his cousin for having left her husband, the suggested argument was presented as a sufficient provocation for Imkheibir to have lost his self-restraint.
The justices responded to Cattan's suggestion in their ruling:
The other ground submitted by Mr. Cattan was that, owing to the provocation [the argument he hypothesized – BH & DB], the condition precedent to a conviction for murder in Palestine had not existed. He bases his argument [wrote the judges] as to provocation on the traditions and customs of the Arabs. It is of course within the knowledge of this Court that the Arabs place a very high value on sexual morality, and the Court will always give full consideration to the effect of customs and traditions which have been accepted by the people as forming part of their way of life, provided that such customs and traditions are not repugnant to natural justice as conceived by British standards. It is unnecessary to make a definite pronouncement as to whether the facts established could ever constitute such provocation as would justify the reduction of the verdict from murder to manslaughter, because we are satisfied that in any event in the circumstances of this case they do not do so.Footnote 71
The SC justices appear to take a far more explicit, yet somewhat ambivalent position regarding the mitigating factor of “family honor.” They acknowledged the prevalence of the communal code, relating in an extremely positive manner to the importance of custom and tradition. Although they raised the issue of “repugnancy,” they took no clear position on the matter. The legal criteria for “provocation” enabled them to claim that in fact no provocation, in the sense of an immediate, unexpected, and shocking event, had taken place. In other words, once they decided that there had been no provocation, they did not have to decide whether the act resulting from the provocation (had it occurred) was repugnant or not. The Supreme Court of Appeal confirmed the death penalty. The high commissioner, in light of the petitions sent to him, decided to commute the death penalty to life imprisonment.
At approximately the same time, 1944, the court sitting for the appeal of Kamel Ahmed Hussein el-Majdoub, Chief Justice FitzGerald, Justice Edward, and Justice Abdulhadi expressed a similar ambivalence, though they were more straightforward in their rejection of the “communal code,” as it was argued before them.Footnote 72 In the trial court, the defense attorney brought as an expert witness Sheikh Suliman Saleh, who stated that “A man who heard that his aunt committed adultery would be greatly provoked. His family honour touched.” The SC justices did not ignore the issue raised by both the Sheikh and the judge. “It has been argued with intensity before us that ‘family honor constitutes a ruling code in the Arab way of life, and any infringement of it is an offence which arouses horror.’ This is a fact of which we are very well aware, and it is far from the purpose of the Court of this Territory to undermine this laudable sentiment of Arab culture. But, however intensely felt, and however praiseworthy their origin, those sentiments cannot be accepted as a justification for the taking away of human life.”Footnote 73
Although clearly rejecting the “taking of human life,” the ruling remained ambivalent. Although rejected, the claims put forward by the defense attorney were treated cautiously, and at least lip service was paid to the “laudable sentiments of Arab culture.” The court then returned to the ruling of the Court of Criminal Assize and supported its decision that the criteria for provocation had not been met. The court stuck to the criteria of the criminal code, acknowledging the relevance of “honor” and family morality to the case, but not to its judicial outcome. Once again, the Supreme Court of Appeal confirmed the death penalty; and once again the high commissioner commuted the punishment.
Law and Politics: Among the Judiciary, the Community, and the High Commissioner
Despite the separation of powers between the judiciary and the executive that characterized the administration in Palestine to a significant extent, there was interplay between the two.Footnote 74 This was especially evident in cases of murder and the compulsory death sentence, in which petitions were addressed to the high commissioner. The interplay between the judicial instances and the executive official was often evident during the trial itself. The defense would, at times, attempt to appeal to the high commissioner even before the judicial process had taken its full course. All the parties involved were well aware of the different considerations applied by the court on the one hand and the executive on the other. The different considerations, different discourse, and, as a result, different decisions in the case of FHK in Palestine, will be discussed in the following section.
The Reports of the Presiding Judge
Once the SC gave its final decision, which in almost all the cases we reviewed supported the previous verdict of murder and capital punishment, the judicial procedure as such ended. However, the next stage, the appeal to the high commissioner, was not totally divorced from the judicial process. The presiding judge of the Court of Criminal Assize, who himself was always a member of the SC, presented the high commissioner with a case summary, the grounds for the court's decision, and additional comments that he found relevant. Thus, it is possible to compare the position taken regarding the tension between the colonial legal code and the communal one, by the same legal practitioner, at two different stages: once as the presiding judge of the trial court, and once as the judge moving out of the courtroom and presenting judicial and semijudicial considerations to the chief executive authority. In this case, the transition from legal considerations based on the wording of the law, which left little, if any, room for custom/tradition or other expressions of communal requirements, to a complex debate that combined the legal and the communal, in most cases giving ultimate priority to the latter, can most clearly be seen.
At least in some cases, the reporting justices appear routinely to categorize the homicide as “FHK,” a category that did not appear in the criminal code, and to consider it as deserving special treatment. Therefore, in his letter in 1940 to the new High Commissioner, Sir Harold MacMichael, Chief Justice Harry Trusted wrote, “I think there can be no doubt that this was an ‘honour’ murder and if Your Excellency intends to continue Sir Arthur Wauchope's practice [of exercising the prerogative of mercy] in such cases, I have no hesitation in saying that this is such a one.”Footnote 75 In most, but certainly not all cases, as will be discussed subsequently, the justice who reviewed the case for the high commissioner recommended that “the prerogative of mercy” be followed, and that the death penalty be commuted.
The case of Atiya Isma'il Faraj and the murder of his cousin Rifqa Ali Attalah Faraj differed in significant respects from those discussed.Footnote 76 Rifqa had been out collecting wood with her cousin's wife when the latter was attacked and, as implied, raped. Rifqa insisted over a number of days that she did not know the identity of the molester. Thus, she both raised suspicion of having herself been involved in one way or other in the attack and also prevented her cousin from taking revenge and re-establishing his honor. Atiya Isma'il admitted to killing Rifqa but insisted that this had been caused by his discovering her having intercourse with a stranger in the early hours of the morning when her husband was away at work. The majority of the judges, as discussed, including the presiding judge, Justice W.C. Currie, rejected this as an unlikely story, denied any immediate provocation, and sentenced the accused to death for premeditated murder. No mention at all was made in the judgment of the issue of honor or any other communal aspect.
In comparison, the report written by Justice Currie for the high commissioner combined the legal and the communal in a completely new manner. After repeating the main evidence and the grounds for the rejection of “immediate provocation,” Justice Currie presented at least a glimpse of his broader understanding of the social significance of what had happened at court. He drew attention, for the first time, to the fact that the community appeared to support Atiye Isma'il's deed, a point that was totally irrelevant to the criminal code. He also called attention to the absence of witnesses who could have implicated the accused, but seemed to avoid giving evidence. Atiye Isma'il's actions were framed as being part of a deeply ingrained communal understanding, as being part of a recognized “category” not mentioned in, and not relevant to, the criminal code.
There is no doubt at all that the accused, with some justification, was of the opinion that Rifqa—if not an actual accomplice in the assault on his wife—knew who the man was. There is also little doubt that when she refused to name the man, the accused, a Moslem, considered himself in honour bound to kill the girl. When sentenced to death the accused in effect said that anyone with any sense of honour would in the circumstances have done what he did. A large number of family honour murders is committed in this country every year and I cannot help expressing the hope that Government will endeavor to use its influence with Moslem leaders to persuade them to teach their people that in the stage civilization has now reached immorality on the part of a sister or wife is not a sufficient justification for murder.
In the light of the forgoing, Your Excellency may perhaps feel this is a case which merits clemency.Footnote 77
The conclusion of the report was mixed: a “civilizing” message on the one hand, and “clemency” on the other. The high commissioner pursued the course suggested by Justice Currie.
The same year, 1947, referring to the case of Mahmoud Abdel Hadi El- Kassas, convicted for the murder of his cousin Turkieh, Justice Currie wrote once again to the high commissioner:
There was considerable evidence which the court believed, that the deceased was not a virtuous woman and had at times eloped with other men. The court was of the opinion that the accused being a cousin of the deceased killed her in accordance with the Moslem custom in such matters. In my opinion this kind of case is one which Your Excellency may well think merits clemency. This murder was not committed by the accused for greed of money or to satisfy sensual lust. It was committed because he has been brought up by his religion and by the village Elders to believe that family honour required it of him. He is an uneducated fellah and accepts that teaching.Footnote 78
In the very last days of the British Mandate, Currie did not want British rule, via the courts, to take on a “civilizing mission;” however, he did want to exert some influence on the communal, and specifically religious, authorities. When acting as a judge of the SC and of the Court of Criminal Assize, Currie stuck to the criteria of the criminal code: could premeditation be proven, or could it not. As an official in the colonial service, he proposed to the high commissioner to pursue a different course, which would take into consideration patriarchal communal understanding and thus avoid negating or opposing communal sensitivities.
However, Justice Currie's position was not the only option. In his review to High Commissioner Harold MacMichael of the case AG v. Muhammad Ahmad Salem Ishreim,Footnote 79 Justice Randolph Copland presented a different position. He was also keenly aware of what he perceived as custom and tradition. He also considered cases that conformed to communal demands to be worthy of some consideration when deciding on the final verdict. However, the case of Ishreim aroused his deep concern and brought forth his sharp criticism of what he considered to be a far too merciful and unprincipled position of the judiciary and the high commissioner acting in conjunction. This was an unconventional letter, in striking contrast to the more common condensed form that raised few questions. Therefore, Chief Justice Harry Trusted wrote to High Commissioner MacMichael, for example: “I think there can be no doubt that this was an ‘honour’ murder, and if your excellency intends to continue Sir Arthur Wauchope's practice of exercising the prerogative in such cases, I have no hesitation in saying that this is such a one.”Footnote 80
In contrast, in the case mentioned, Justice Randolph Copland challenged this position. After referring to the fact that in the case under review, two women were murdered by repeated, deep and fatal stabbing, he continued:
Now whilst the motive of “family honour” might be an extenuating circumstance in the case of one murder, I suggest it cannot possibly be an excuse for two murders. I am confirmed in this view by the opinions of my two Arab colleagues in the Supreme Court, Khayat J. who sat with me on the Trial Court, and Abdul Hadi J., both of whom I have consulted on this point. And their knowledge of Arab mentality is far greater than mine. For over twenty years now, since the British Occupation, this barbarous custom has continued unchecked, and while I agree that education may in time effect a change, I feel that in a particularly bad case as this, an example might perhaps be made and would act as a deterrent in the future. Your Excellency will remember that in India it was only by a strict enforcement of the law that the custom of Suttee [sati], or self immolation by widows, among the Hindus, was finally eradicated, and suttee had a religious sanction behind it, which a “family honour” murder has not.Footnote 81
The point is not whether the British did or did not put an end to sati in India, a view that has been challenged over recent decades. For our case, the important point is that Justice Randolph Copland chose to draw a comparison between “Family Honour Killing” and “Suttee,” the latter being a custom that the British had been trying to eradicate for at least 100 years, although, as discussed, they were ambivalent for a long time in their approach.
The reports of the justices to the high commissioner can be seen as an exchange within the colonial administration. The petitions sent by family members of the victim, communal dignitaries, and, at times, representatives of national institutions, demonstrate the attempt of the local population to affect the final outcome of the trial. This was done by steering clearly away from the legal discourse and the criminal code, and by expressing their own assessments and values.
Communal Petitions
The petitions introduced a different rhetoric. They disengaged themselves from the logic of the criminal code in which the central issues were immediacy, provocation, and premeditation. They portrayed the accused as a socially commendable young man who had acted in response to the behavior of his sister, cousin, or aunt, and was trying to defend the moral communal codes. The numerous petitions can be divided into two categories: the first, petitions submitted by family members of both the victim and the accused; the second, petitions submitted by local and national dignitaries.
Petitions Submitted by Family Members
It should be noted that the murderer was, himself, a member of the family of the victim, and, therefore, might well get the support of other family members. However, there were also family members, possibly of an even closer relation, who could deny the charges of “immorality” or of adultery leveled at the murdered woman. They could demand, and expect to receive, compensation from the murderer or his immediate family. Referring back to the Ottoman Penal Code of the first half of the nineteenth century, which contained many elements of the Shari'a, the family of the victim played an important role in determining the charge against the perpetrator and, even more so, in determining the nature of the punishment.Footnote 82 There was formal room for the two sides to negotiate and reach an agreement, which would then be accepted by the court.Footnote 83 The petitions of the 1940s seem to retain elements not only of the Ottoman Code but also of the communal code, which embedded religious and civil elements. In some cases, the relatives gave clear-cut support to the perpetrator, who was a member of their own extended family. In others, the support was far more implicit, if at all. Family members of the victim, regardless of their position toward the murder, appear to have reached an agreement outside of the court, and petitioned the high commissioner to accept their understanding with the accused.
Six men of the el-Majdoub family, for example, expressed their support of Kamel el-Majdoub, who had murdered his aunt. They justified his act by referring to the decrees of the Shari'a, and concluded their petition, writing: “We, the relatives of the murdered woman, declare that we have abandoned all our rights, and solicit that the murderer be treated with sympathy and pardoned from death sentence.”Footnote 84 In another case, the brother of Tamam, Farhan, gave evidence at court of her reputable and proper behavior. He did not go back on his support; however, he also petitioned the high commissioner on behalf of his convicted cousin: “I declare that I have made peace with my cousin Mkheiber [Imkheibir] Kataf who was condemned to death on account of the murder of my sister and I have waived all my rights against him. […] In view of our relations and the age of the accused which does not exceed 18 years and in view further of the reasons which prompted my cousin to kill my sister I pray for Your Excellency to pardon him and to commute the sentence of death to another sentence.”Footnote 85
Petitions by Local and National Dignitaries
In each of the cases discussed, when a young man was sentenced to death for killing his sister, cousin, or aunt, local dignitaries supported his appeal to the high commissioner. On the whole, the letters were short and to the point, stating the traditional/communal importance of the “defense of family honor,” and the expectation that the high commissioner would consider this factor of great enough importance to change the sentence. The formula repeatedly used when writing to the high commissioner, as translated into English, was for him to “exercise his prerogative of clemency” and commute the death penalty to a sentence of imprisonment. A few examples will suffice.
In 1932, in the case of Muhammad Haj Salah el-Zawawi, an accompanying letter was signed by fifteen seals of Mukhtars of Jerusalem (as noted by the Supreme Moslem Council in its accompanying letter) and inhabitants of the Maghrabeh Quarter in Jerusalem. “The condemned person Muhammad has been known to us for a considerable number of years to be a man of good character, enjoying satisfactory reputation and a defender of his faith and honour. To the best of our knowledge he always loved his sister Miriam who he murdered because of the immoral life she was leading and which character is against God's wish and the Moslem faith.”Footnote 86
The dignitaries of the 1940s followed suit. A number of petitions accompanied the appeal of Kamel Ahmad Hussein el-Majdoub from the village of Amqa of the district of Acre. The petitions were sent by public figures of different communities, not necessarily the community to which the accused belonged. Therefore, dignitaries from the district of Hebron wrote – “[We] trust that you will be moved to commute the death sentence passed upon the young man Kamel Ahmed Hussein el-Majdoub of Amqa, Acre S/D, especially as the murder was committed in defense of family honour which is one of our most sacred traditions.”Footnote 87 A similar petition was sent once again by dignitaries from the Hebron District requesting the commuting of the death penalty passed on Mahmoud Abdul Hadi el-Kassas, who had murdered his cousin, known to have had a bad reputation in the village for “immoral” behavior: “We appeal to Your Excellency to commute the death penalty passed on Mahmoud Abdul Hadi Al-Qassas [el-Kassas] for having murdered his cousin, Turkiah Husain Al-Qassas [el-Kassas], who was a prostitute out of his desire to redeem his family's honour. The Arab man sacrifices everything to defend his family's honour, which is the last thing left for him to defend.”Footnote 88
Finally, in the late 1940s, petitions were also submitted by organizations and institutions of an explicitly urban and national, rather than rural and regional affiliation. Thus, more than ten urban organizations were signatories to the petition requesting that the death penalty be commuted in the case of Imkheiber. Their petition, translated into English, made clear reference to the Arab collective in the name of which they were writing. “We, the undersigned, the representatives of the General Institutions of Jaffa, beg from Your Excellency the commutation of the sentence of death passed upon [I]Mkheiber Kataf for killing his cousin Tamam Akil Kataf. He had committed the said crime in defense of the honour of his family and tribe and Your Excellency is no doubt aware of the fact that to an Arab the defense of his honor is rooted in his blood and that was the motive for the commission of the offence of murder.[ …]”Footnote 89
The petition, in its original form in Arabic, had signatures and seals of at least ten organizations mainly from the urban center of Jaffa, among them The Arab Front in Jaffa, The Arab Book Stores Union, The Philanthropic Public Association of Education, The Nation Fund Office, The Association of Textile Merchants, The Moslem Brotherhood in Jaffa, The Barbers Association, The Tailors Association, an advertising services office, and two law firms.
We can assume that the defense attorney, Henry Cattan, being a leading legal practitioner and public figure, was able to recruit the heads of the various organizations, regardless of the fact that the young man sentenced to death had little to do with the region of Jaffa. Judging by the terminology of the various petitions and by the national and political identity of the organizations, the signatories were probably motivated by the desire to preserve cultural codes and protect them from foreign intervention. This desire was exacerbated by the events of the time, the struggle against the British and the Jewish settlement, which was escalating.
The petitions discussed in this section referred explicitly to a communal code: of the family, village, tribe, subdistrict, faith, and people (in the sense of nation or peoplehood). Such a communal code had little, or nothing, to do with the rationale of the judicial process. In fact, it contradicted it. If the women had become “prostitutes” by their “immorality,” by their reputed illegitimate expressions of sexuality, and by their disregard for the patriarchs of their family, the young men were honor and duty bound, so it was repeatedly implied, to wipe out the women, not only their deeds. Whether they actually endorsed such practices or considered them the best appeal to the high commissioner, is still an open question.
In most cases, the high commissioner accepted the petitions and commuted the death sentence to long-term imprisonment. The patriarchal codes of Palestinian society and the need of the colonial administration to minimize public unrest appear to have reached a common ground. Although the petitioners did not ask for the release of the young men, who upheld, so they claimed, communal goals, the high commissioner did not insist on capital punishment for men, who killed women of their families, even though the newly legislated criminal code was meant to minimize that phenomenon.
Concluding Discussion
The cases of FHK discussed demonstrate the attempts made by the British in Mandate Palestine, as in many other parts of the empire, to both intervene and avoid intervening at one and the same time, in the communal values of the colonized society, and the ramifications of such attempts for the relations between the colonizers and the colonized. In this case, the tension between the former and the latter was manifested in the sphere of law and order, between colonial legislation and prosecution of homicide on the one hand, and communal codes of behavior and belief that justified FHK, or accepted it as understandable, on the other hand. The particular features of the British Mandate in Palestine enable us to highlight the conflict faced by the judicial and political authorities of the Mandate regime.
We have followed those cases of FHK, which went through the judicial process of inquiry, trial, and appeal and on to the petitioning of the supreme executive authority, the high commissioner. Based on our detailed discussion of the different instances and the different actors, we conclude that the judicial process itself, the Court of Criminal Assize and SC proceedings, subordinated the dimension of custom and culture to the legal dimension, focusing on the question of provocation as essential for differentiating murder from manslaughter. However, even at this stage, we identified some initial influence of the community codes, which were introduced into the judicial process in order to mitigate the severe legislation and its sentencing. This was evident, for example, in those cases in which Arab judges issued a minority sentence, in which they asked for the cultural and societal context to be taken into account, to better understand the action committed by the accused young man. In the next stage, this influence became even more salient, as manifested in the chief justice's letter to the high commissioner, in which he summarized the case and recommended modes of action. The chief justice presented the homicide as being based on cultural codes, and consequently directed the high commissioner to adopt a lenient policy toward the offenders.
In the next stage, the high commissioner and his executive council gave preference to cultural considerations, as those were conveyed to them. Community petitions declared the codes, which bound the perpetrator, and asked the high commissioner to acknowledge them when he made his decision. The combination and coordination of the judicial and the executive enabled the British colonial authorities to take a “civilizing” declarative stance via the legislation process and the legal criteria applied in the judicial processes, while soothing possible unrest and resentment by paying tribute to “local culture” at the final phase of the process. In other words, the legislation aimed at increasing capital punishment for custom-based homicide, and the judicial arena tended to convict the accused in such cases of murder and sentence him to death; however, the death sentence was in almost all cases commuted by the high commissioner to imprisonment.
Having summarized the process of the prosecution, defense, and sentencing of homicide defined as FHK, we propose that it must be understood according to the political and social context, in which all actors were enmeshed. Theories of sentencing mentioned previously provide an analytical tool, attempting to assess the threat posed by different types of homicide to the governability of the British Mandate in Palestine. This aspect was highlighted with reference to the difference in the sentencing of offenders related to the Arab Revolt in comparison with those who could be “justified” as seeking to protect family honor.
It can be assumed that this policy reflected the perceived threat posed by the Revolt to governability and public order that the British Mandate wanted to preserve. Our analysis has shown that this was not the case in FHK. Hence, we are arguing that the killing of Palestinian women (FHK) was not perceived to pose any significant threat to the British Mandate, for a number of reasons.
First, there was emphasis on governability and the marginality of the “civilizing mission.” The Mandate regime emphasized its need for governability and the necessity of a smooth running of social and political affairs. Unlike some other colonial settings, the “civilizing mission” was given only little significance and did not appear as a legitimizing factor for the continued colonial mandatory rule. Involvement in the Arab Revolt posed a far greater threat than the murder of “morally suspect” women. We did not find any FHK case that connected the deed to some pattern of political resistance to the British Mandate. Rebellion, on the other hand, posed a direct threat, and therefore often led to the implementation of capital punishment in clear contrast to the final sentencing of FHK.
Second, there were hostilities in Palestine between the national collectives and the Mandate regime. The relations between the Mandate authorities and the Palestinian Arab majority were extremely fraught, especially during the late 1930s, as the result of British support, albeit partial, of the Jewish National Home policy and actual settlement. This high level of hostility most probably motivated the authorities to avoid, as much as possible, opening and exacerbating additional fronts.
Third, there was a lack of importance ascribed to the murder of women. As discussed, the murder of women by agnate relatives was not raised as an issue of importance, calling for intervention and social change. Furthermore, the women were considered at least to some extent to be immoral women, rather than “pure” and “devoted,” like the Indian widows, thus weakening the sense of commitment to their defense and protection from family control. Combining the above mentioned factors, and bearing in mind theories of sentencing and perceived threat, which take into account the price paid by the authorities for sentences that exacerbate social conflicts and hostilities, the discrepancy between the severity of punishment for offenses related to the Arab Revolt, and the moderation of punishment for the murder of women (FHK) is not surprising. In other words, the former threatened the British Mandate rule, whereas the latter did not. This conclusion is confirmed by examples from other parts of the empire, discussed previously, in which the British tried to avoid clashes with the governed population over issues of religion, tradition, and domesticity.
In our discussion of the dilemmas faced by the British administration concerning the sati in India and clitoridectomy in Kenya, we noted the ambivalence and the indecision regarding the required course of action: intervention or nonintervention, intervention via legislation, criminalization and, therefore, utilization of the judicial system, or far more restricted intervention, maybe even mere lip service, via education. Both in India and Kenya, the colonial regime was sensitive to public opinion and did not enforce the abolishment of a phenomenon, of which it did not approve, until it had some level of support by public opinion, significant public figures, or reform movements. We can find similar indecision with regard to FHK in Mandate Palestine.
A change of legislation was introduced so as to make it easier to convict for murder, entailing capital punishment. Nevertheless, the “law in action” reveals a far subtler dynamic within the judicial system among the accused, his attorney, the prosecution, the judges of various instances, and finally members of the community: family members and public figures. Through a mixed use of legal discourse and discourse of tradition and custom, and via the interplay between the judicial and the executive, a subtle negotiation took place, which in most, even if not all, cases led to a mitigation of the most severe punishment; that is, capital punishment, which was required under the amended law.
As in some periods both in India and in Kenya, the administration appeared keen to avoid public outrage or the exacerbation of friction, especially to avoid the linkage between an issue of tradition, sexuality, and femininity and the rapidly increasing national unrest. Whereas in India there was a reform movement, led by Rammohun Roy, that opposed sati, no such internal opposition was publicly expressed in Palestine. Concomitantly, the clash between the Arab majority and the British regime in Palestine was heated and often violent, which most likely aroused fear of any unnecessary further exacerbation. The judicial system in conjunction with the executive could provide an arena for the colonial authority to enforce its power, as it did when cases of homicide were seen to endanger stability and governability, or to mitigate its power, when that seemed to be the wisest step to take.
Therefore, the British appear to have vacillated between nonintervention in religion and custom and the imposed introduction of change in line with British morality. The preference for avoiding outright intervention when no outright threat was posed, its substitution by intermediate forms of action, by steps taken and then dropped, by shifts between the legal, the judicial, and the executive, appear to have characterized British rule. The case of FHK can serve as one example of the British preferences and the contradictions and shifts they embodied.
