Israel’s First Independence Day and “The Parade That Didn’t March”

What Israel's Independence Day looked like before there was an Independence Day

Amit Naor | 14.04.21

Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

How is a holiday created out of thin air? Well, one method is legislation.

Israel’s “Independence Day Law” from 1949 set the date for Independence Day as the 5^th of the Hebrew month of Iyar, while also allowing for the holiday to be brought forward or delayed in the event that the 5^th falls on a Sabbath. Additionally, the law authorizes the Prime Minister to “determine the symbols of Independence Day” and even “to instruct regarding the waving of flags and celebrations”.

The question of how Israeli Independence Day came to be celebrated in the way that we are familiar with today is a complex one, and we may very well deal with that in the future, but for now, we would like to momentarily return to the 5^th of Iyar, in the Hebrew year 5709 (1949), only some three weeks after the above law was passed.

Confusion was the order of the day.

To be completely honest, that 5^th of Iyar was not exactly the only “First Independence Day” to be celebrated in Israel. It was preceded by “State Day”, held on the 20^th of Tammuz (July 27^th, 1948) – just a few weeks after the actual declaration of Israel’s independence. This date was chosen as it was the anniversary of Theodor Herzl’s death, with the state authorities seeking to link between Herzl’s vision and the new State of Israel which had just been established. The main event on “State Day” was the first ever military parade conducted by the young IDF.

A soldier carries the national flag during the IDF parade in Tel Aviv on Israel’s first Independence Day, 1949. Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

But back to the other “First Independence Day” – the 5^th of Iyar, 5709, which fell on May 4^th, 1949. How were people supposed to celebrate Independence Day anyways? No one knew exactly, but a few things could be taken for granted, including folk dancing in the streets (which reminded people of the jubilant spontaneous celebrations after the UN Partition Plan vote in late November, 1947). Plans were made for celebrations in towns and cities across the country, including light displays, flag-waving, concerts by municipal orchestras, torchlight parades and various rallies and marches.

On the eve of the holiday, Prime Minister David Ben-Gurion held a special Independence Day speech, published the next day in the papers. Many of the events included a memorial prayer for fallen soldiers, as Israel did not yet have an official day dedicated to remembering them. Ben-Gurion also hosted dignitaries from abroad at a special Independence Day reception held at his office in IDF Headquarters in Tel Aviv.

David Ben-Gurion and his wife Paula hosting dignitaries at an Independence Day reception. Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

But there was little doubt about the planned highlight of the day – another military parade by “our victorious army of liberation”, the Israel Defense Forces – what else? Not only one but two parades were planned, in both Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. The Jerusalem parade went ahead without major incident, but the big story of Israel’s first Independence Day was the controversial Tel Aviv parade.

Crowds in the streets of Tel Aviv. Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

A plane flies over the crowds of people. Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

“The Parade That Didn’t March”, screamed the Hebrew headline in Maariv the next morning. The name stuck and it is remembered to this day. At first, everything seemed fine. Representatives from the IDF’s various corps marched down the city’s streets: The navy, the medical corps and veterans of the pre-state Haganah organization all displayed their arms. Jewish and Druze soldiers proudly marched alongside each other. Military jeeps and artillery guns were received with cheers by onlookers while a handful of military aircraft flew overhead – all that the Israeli Air Force had at the time. And of course it wouldn’t be a parade without a marching band!

Veterans of the Haganah on parade. Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

Marching with the flag at Dizengoff Square. Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

Druze soldiers on parade. Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

But by 4 o’clock, when the marchers were due to arrive at the main stage erected on Dizengoff Street to salute the Israeli leadership, the rumors had already begun to spread – the parade had been cancelled! “People stood and cried. Like children,” Wrote Maariv editor Dr. Ezriel Carlebach. The parade could simply not make its way to the main stage on Dizengoff Street because of mass overcrowding at the corner of Allenby and Ben-Yehuda.

Carlebach described the scene: “When they [the crowd] were told for the third time that it [the parade] would not be coming because it could not clear a path from Mugrabi Square to Idelson Street, a stretch of some two hundred meters – they simply did not believe it. It could not be true. OUR army? The army that had reached all the way to Eilat, that could easily have entered Damascus, was now incapable of making it to Ben-Yehuda Street? Ridiculous, idiotic.”

A canon is paraded through Tel Aviv. Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

The humongous crowds that showed up to watch the parade had spilled over onto the streets and blocked the path of the marchers. All of the efforts by the police to open the roads ended in miserable failure. Eventually, the organizers were left with little choice but to call off the parade before the crowds slowly dispersed in bitter disappointment. A senior IDF officer present at the scene was quoted in the Herut newspaper, saying “The Israel Defense Forces managed to conquer everything except the streets of Tel Aviv”.

In retrospect, it seems that organizational failures led to the debacle. The authorities apparently did not foresee the sheer quantities that showed up to watch the spectacle. Reports cited crowds numbering in the hundreds of thousands – in a country with a population of some 600,000 people. In addition, roads were only blocked off shortly before the event, further contributing to the chaos. The next day, the papers were already reporting that a commission of inquiry would be investigating the reasons for the fiasco.

Policemen attempt to clear the streets for the parade. Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

A military police truck tries to clear a path through the crowd. Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

Policemen attempt to block crowds from spilling into the streets. Photo by Beno Rothenberg, the Meitar Collection, the National Library of Israel

Following the embarrassment surrounding the Tel Aviv parade, it was decided to hold yet another “State Day” celebration on July 17^th, 1949. Another parade was organized, this one on a smaller, more modest scale, in order to make amends and finally complete the unfinished march. This was the last time that Israel’s independence was celebrated on the day of Herzl’s death, and the 5^th of Iyar later became solidified as the official Independence Day of the State of Israel. The practice of marking Israel’s Memorial Day on the day before Independence Day began in 1951. This was also the first year of the traditional Independence Day torch lighting ceremony on Mt. Herzl in Jerusalem. The Israel Prize ceremony was first held on Independence Day, 1953, and the first International Bible Contest was held on the State of Israel’s tenth birthday in 1958.

Slowly but surely, year after year, Israel’s Independence Day has developed into the national celebration we know today.

All of the photographs displayed here are taken from the Beno Rothenberg Archive, which is part of the Meitar Collection at the National Library of Israel. Rothenberg documented many aspects of Israeli society, culture and life during the first few decades of the state. You can see more examples of his photography here, here and here.

David Ben David Cheated Death… and Missed Israel’s Birth

He swam to Haifa in 1940, unknowingly escaping the ill-fated "Patria", then spent most of the 1948 war as a POW, saved from death more than once by his Arab Legion captors

Zack Rothbart | 13.04.21

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David Ben David during the 1948 siege of Kfar Etzion, where many of his comrades were killed by enemy forces. From his autobiography, Gesher al Tehumot (Bridge over the Abysses), in the National Library of Israel collection

David Ben David first crawled into the Land of Israel from the sea.

He was half-naked, soaking wet, exhausted and alone. His first night was spent in a cement mixer.

With restrictions on Jewish immigration to Mandatory Palestine, the British had transferred hundreds of European refugees – including Ben David – onto a ship known as the Patria, which would take them to the island of Mauritius off the coast of Africa.

On November 25, 1940, the Patria sunk in the Port of Haifa – the result of a failed Haganah attempt to disable the ship in order to prevent the deportation of its passengers, nearly 300 of whom perished.

The “Patria” sinking off the coast of Haifa, November 1940

Days before, unaware of the tragedy to come, 20 year-old David Ben David – never a great swimmer – had leapt from the ill-fated ship.

Just as his strength was about to give out, a wave came and lapped him ashore. As the sun rose the next day and he exited the cement mixer, Ben David found himself among the port workers and heavy equipment. He hid inside a tub, where someone threw him a sweater and a hat.

Ben David’s presence raised the suspicion of a local policeman. With no papers to show and no use trying to flee, he was taken to jail, where a Jewish police sergeant instructed him to pretend to be crazy, which he did well enough to be released with just a warning.

It was Friday afternoon, erev Shabbat. The sun was leaning to the west.

“For me, it was the happiest moment of my life. I was a free man in the Land of Israel. My greatest dream had come true,” he later recalled in his autobiography, Gesher al Tehumot (Bridge over the Abysses).

Ben David – who had been raised Hasidic before joining the religious Zionist movement – had not been at a proper Shabbat table for a year due to historical circumstance.

Still barefoot, he found the sister of an acquaintance from the Patria who gave him some food, drink, socks and shoes and then he went on his way to the local chapter of the Bnei Akiva youth group in which he had been active in his native Czechoslovakia.

“My first Shabbat in the Land of Israel, in the Hebrew Haifa, will never be forgotten. In the park, children played with their parents, two- and three-year-old children who spoke Hebrew… It seemed as if the entire world was joyful like I was…”

Missing Independence

Some seven years later, David Ben David was readying for a very different type of Shabbat.

The Etzion Bloc was falling.

Hundreds had been massacred in Kfar Etzion, where Ben David was known as the kibbutz’s mukhtar (village chief).

The funeral of those who fell at Gush Etzion during the War of Independence (Photo: Beno Rothenberg). From the Meitar Collection, courtesy of the State Archive; available via the National Library of Israel Digital Collection

He was injured and soon found himself in nearby Masu’ot Yitzhak, the last settlement not yet captured by Arab troops.

Ben David and his comrades prepared for the worst, knowing that Masu’ot Yitzhak would soon to be captured.

They frantically burned or otherwise destroyed anything that might be useful to the enemy.

Food was eaten quickly and plentifully. Clothing was piled on – a strange irony compared to the state of his 1940 arrival in the Land.

Spared a massacre like Kfar Etzion, Ben David and others were taken as prisoners of war and escorted onto a bus headed for Hebron.

It was Friday, May 14, 1948.

Israeli statehood would be declared in the afternoon.

Throughout much of the country, dancing and singing jubilantly marked the end of two millennia of helpless statelessness. Celebrations erupted in displaced persons camps across Europe. Jews around the globe could hardly believe the radio reports.

Crowds celebrating the declaration of the State of Israel in the streets of Tel Aviv, May 14, 1948 (Photo: Beno Rothenberg). From the Meitar Collection, courtesy of the State Archive; available via the National Library of Israel Digital Collection

Yet Ben David and his comrades, bandaged and fearful in the Hebron police station, knew nothing of it.

They sanctified the Sabbath over two biscuits and cried – over friends and loved ones that had been killed, over the fall of the Etzion Bloc and the uncertain future.

In his autobiography, Ben David recalled the feelings of sadness that night rivaling those he felt when the Patria had sunk and when he found out about the destruction of his hometown in the Holocaust.

Saved by the Arab Legion – more than once

The next day the mayor of Hebron – followed by an armed and angry gang of locals – came into the prison compound demanding the blood of Ben David and the other few remaining Jewish defenders of the Etzion Bloc.

As they cocked their weapons and prepared for a massacre, an Arab Legion officer stepped forward, warning them not to take another step, or they themselves would fall victim.

A fight broke out between the Legion men and the mayor’s gang, with the latter ultimately forced to flee.

The officer explained to the mayor that the Arab Legion was responsible for the welfare of the POWs and that King Abdullah I himself had ordered that not a hair on any one of their heads be touched.

Soon after, an Egyptian soldier planned on killing prisoners by dropping a grenade into their cell, an Arab Legion soldier once again interfered, sparing their lives.

The prisoners were held in Hebron for three weeks – a period remembered for its hunger, and crowded and filthy conditions. Finally, on the verge of starvation, the hundreds of POWs from the Etzion Bloc – men and women – were placed in a convoy to be taken to Transjordan.

The vehicles cruelly stopped opposite the remnants of what had once comprised the Jewish settlements of the Etzion Bloc – now virtually unrecognizable heaps of rubble.

The convoy crossed the Jordan River and Arab forces once again had to step in to save the Jews from being stoned to death at the hands of an angry mob. Saved again, they were taken to the Umm Al Jamal POW camp, where they were held captive until the end of the war.

David Ben David finally stepped foot in the State of Israel in early 1949. He had been imprisoned since the day of its birth.

David Ben David reunited with his family shortly after his release from the Jordanian POW camp, where he was when his daughter was born. From his autobiography, *Gesher al Tehumot (Bridge over the Abysses)*, in the National Library of Israel collection

In the years to come, Ben David – who had also fought in the British Army during WWII and helped survivors come to the Land of Israel after the war – would work to give proper burial to those who had fallen defending the Etzion Bloc and support their widows and orphans.

He would also help establish the new communal settlement of Nir Etzion, just a few kilometers from where he had once washed ashore – half-naked, soaking wet, exhausted and alone.

—

This article has been published as part of Gesher L’Europa, the National Library of Israel’s initiative to connect with people, institutions and communities across Europe and beyond, through storytelling, knowledge sharing and community engagement.

Thanks to the Toldot Yisrael team for their assistance preparing this article. Toldot Yisrael is an initiative dedicated to documenting the testimonies of the State of Israel’s founding generation. The collection is now deposited at the National Library of Israel in Jerusalem. An extended Hebrew interview with David Ben David can be found here: Part I, Part II.

The Surrender of the Old City’s Jewish Quarter

The tragic circumstances that led to the surrender of the Jewish Quarter's defenders in Jerusalem's Old City during the War of Independence

Chen Malul | 12.04.21

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The Old City's Jewish Quarter in ruins. The photograph was taken by the Arab Legion following the battles.

“What is the meaning of the white flag that was seen being carried near the matzah factory?” – read the urgent telegram sent on May 28^th, 1948th, from the Jerusalem District Headquarters to the command post in the Jewish Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem. The State of Israel had been declared exactly two weeks earlier, with the War of Independence underway for nearly six months already.

“We began negotiations on the retrieval of the bodies of the dead in order to stall. The first result of this was the Arabs ordering a ceasefire. Further details are still unknown” – replied the Haganah-appointed commander of the Jewish Quarter, Moshe Rusnak. A few hours later, the entire Jewish Quarter surrendered; nearly all of the Quarter’s buildings were blown up, soldiers were taken captive, and the remaining civilians were evacuated to the new city.

On August 17^th, 1948, with battles still taking place throughout Israel, the Jerusalem District Commander David Shaltiel appointed a committee to investigate the surrender of the Old City to Jordan’s Arab Legion force.

The first page of the committee of inquiry‘s report, in the handwriting of Zohara Wilbush, the committee secretary, the National Library of Israel collections

On February 14th, 1947, British Prime Minister Clement Attlee announced to his cabinet that Britain would be withdrawing from Mandatory Palestine. Four months after his appeal to the United Nations to appoint a committee to make recommendations “concerning the future government” of the country, the UN presented what would soon be known as “The Partition Plan”, dividing the land into two states – one Arab, one Jewish – that would coexist alongside each other.

The section that was most difficult for both sides to stomach related to the future of Jerusalem: Unlike the rest of the country that would be divided, Jerusalem would not be the capital of either state, but would rather be placed under an international regime sponsored by the UN. Although David Ben-Gurion, then chairman of the Jewish Agency (the Zionist government of the state “in-the-making”), agreed to the plan, many in Jerusalem believed that “even though no violence had broken out as yet, it felt as though all of a sudden an invisible muscle was suddenly flexed. It was not sensible to go to those areas anymore.”(Amos Oz, A Tale of Love and Darkness)

UN Resolution 181 – the Partition Plan – was approved with the votes of 33 countries in favor and set off the battles of the War of Independence. On the very evening the resolution was adopted, dozens of Arabs rushed to the city’s center, looking to harm any Jew they could find. Within two weeks the Old City’s Jewish Quarter was under attack and its residents found themselves under siege of the superior Arab forces. As the fighting grew more intense, the Zionist leadership became more and more convinced they were losing their hold on Jerusalem.

Residents of the Jewish Quarter wait in line for food distribution (from the book “The Battle for Jerusalem in the War of Independence” by Oved Michaeli [Hebrew])

Four people were present at the inquiry meeting on August 17^th, 1948: Haganah commander Avraham Erst; military jurist Gideon Hausner; the chairman of the Old City council during the siege, Mordechai Weingarten and the meeting’s secretary Zohara Wilbush.

First, Erst and Hausner wanted to explore the military developments that preceded the surrender. They asked Weingarten, “Did we lose a lot of territory between the day of the breakthrough and the surrender?” The “breakthrough” to which they referred was most likely the capture of the Old City’s Zion Gate by the Haganah’s elite Palmach force on the night of the 18^th-19^th of May. This force, however, was not able to make any further progress, and in fact it was the Arabs who soon stormed the besieged Quarter and began to seize control of more and more positions. The Quarter’s handful of defenders put up a courageous and determined defense to block the Arab advance, staving the invaders off of Sha’ar HaShamayim street, one of their very last strongholds.

“We lost most of the territory”. Page 3 of the committee of inquiry’s report of the committee of inquiry‘s report, the National Library of Israel collections

Weingarten recounted that as the military situation deteriorated, the fighters’ morale suffered a severe blow: “Spirits were very low. Some of the men were at the synagogues along with the locals and had to be located.” “There were various rumors about the supply of ammunition,” Weingarten added, “there were no grenades” and every bullet was counted before being fired. This was in stark contrast to the Arab Legion soldiers who used mortars, submachine guns and explosives to conquer the Quarter’s buildings as well as the defensive positions scattered throughout.

As the attackers advanced, communication between the Quarter’s headquarters and the fighters deployed in the remaining positions broke down. “A sore wound, the last days were chaos. At times Pinkas [referring to Mordechai Pinkas, one of the commanders in the field] was able to take control; other times he was not. It was like ‘a mouse in a trap’.” The besieged Quarter was not only cut off from food supply from the outside; all of the Quarter’s bakeries were conquered by the invading force, and the only food left for the residents was pita bread they made themselves. “Pita was flour + salt. And some jam.

Residents of the Quarter fortify their posts ahead of the Arab Legion’s arrival (from the book “The Battle for Jerusalem in the War of Independence” by Oved Michaeli)

Two days after the assault began, the Arab Legion’s 6^th battalion entered the Old City. 650 Arab fighters now faced 131 Jewish defenders. The attackers were encouraged by the difference in numbers and by their superior arms. There was no doubt the Quarter would soon fall; it was only a matter of time.

Though the Palmach force was able to get as close as Zion Gate, the failure to actually reinforce the desperate defenders of the Jewish Quarter only led to more frustration. Weingarten reported that “The military command did not make a substantial attempt to communicate with the civilians. It was known – ‘backup coming in 30 or 15 minutes’– and this led to disappointment.”

“The military command did not make a substantial attempt to communicate with the civilians.” Page 5 of the committee of inquiry’s report of the committee of inquiry‘s report, the National Library of Israel collections

As the days went by and ammunition ran out, the bitter truth was revealed: “A few fought fiercely; others hid.” The idea of negotiating surrender was first suggested by the Arab Legion. “Every day, the Arabs spoke through a loudspeaker in three languages, requesting that we negotiate. We did not answer.”

An Arab soldier views the Jewish Quarter from a market rooftop. In the photograph, the Hurva synagogue and the Tiferet Yirael synagogue are still intact (from the book “The Battle for Jerusalem in the War of Independence” by Oved Michaeli [Hebrew])

By May 28, it became clear there was no hope for rescue, and if they did not soon surrender, the Quarter’s residents would be slaughtered by the attackers. Weingarten believed that none of the residents had the courage to personally engage in “negotiations with the Arabs”. At that point, Weingarten conveyed, the Quarter’s commander, Moshe Rusnak, appeared to have been “cracking”, but he refused to consider surrendering. Subsequently, a delegation of rabbis led by Weingarten approached Rusnak and demanded that negotiations for surrender begin before the Legion forces moved against the last remaining defensive positions. Rusnak refused to allow the delegation to discuss surrender; he demanded that the meeting’s agenda be the evacuation of both sides’ injured and dead. Their persistence paid off: “We were sent with a man holding a white flag.”

Around 10 am, the delegation of rabbis met with the commander of the Arab Legion’s 6^th Battalion, General Abdullah El Tell, at Cafe Alsheich. The Jordanian commander refused to discuss the evacuation of the injured and dead. Instead, he gave the rabbis an ultimatum: Surrender or else. He gave them an hour and 15 minutes to return with an answer.

At one o’clock in the afternoon, the Quarter’s commanders and delegates gathered to discuss the surrender proposal. All attendees, save for an Irgun representative who abstained, voted in favor of surrender. This time Rusnak joined Weingarten to settle the surrender with the Jordanian commander. Minutes earlier, Rusnak sent a telegram to the District Headquarters, reassuring them and explaining that the talks were about transferring the wounded and dead, and not about the terms of the Quarter’s surrender. Though it is not mentioned by Weingarten, historian Yitzhak Levy suggests that both parties – district commander David Shaltiel and the besieged Quarter’s leader, Moshe Rusnak – knew the defenders had no choice but to surrender, yet they both refused to admit this bitter truth to each other.

“Perhaps more could have been done,” Weingarten concluded, refusing to point an accusing finger at the Jewish Quarter administration or at the Jerusalem District Headquarters, “The Jewish people have a long and bloody history.”

The Old City’s Jewish Quarter in ruins. The photograph was taken by the Arab Legion following the battles.

Winston Churchill in Palestine – 100 Years On

“The establishment of a Jewish National Home in Palestine will be a blessing to the whole world.”

Lee Pollock | 24.03.21

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Winston Churchill in Tel Aviv, 1921, from the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel

On March 24, 1921 an overnight train from Cairo arrived in Gaza, a town populated by some 15,000 Arabs and fewer than a hundred Jews, located just inside the southwestern border of the newly created British mandatory territory of Palestine. The League of Nations mandate had been granted to Britain under the terms of the San Remo Conference eleven months before.

The train carried three important British passengers including Sir Herbert Samuel, a veteran Jewish Liberal (and Zionist) politician who had been appointed as Britain’s first High Commissioner for Palestine, and a shrewd army colonel possessing unequalled familiarity with the Middle East, T. E. Lawrence.

Portrait of Herbert Samuel taken shortly after his appointment as High Commissioner for Palestine, ca. 1920 (Photo: Yaakov Ben Dov). From the Abraham Schwadron Portrait Collection, National Library of Israel archives

The third passenger was Winston Spencer Churchill, another political veteran who just a few weeks before had become Secretary of State for the Colonies, responsible for Britain’s administration of both Palestine and what had been intended to be a parallel mandate in Mesopotamia.

Churchill, Samuel and Lawrence had spent nearly three weeks in Cairo meeting with other senior British officials to reshape the remnants of the Ottoman Empire and create the new Arab kingdoms of Iraq and Trans-Jordan.

Churchill remained in Palestine for eight days on what would be his only official visit to the Holy Land. He was already sympathetic to Jewish aspirations for the national home in Palestine, which Britain had pledged in the Balfour Declaration of November 1917, although his support was tempered by concerns about the cost of administering the new mandate and an even greater anxiety about the ability of the Jewish community and its much more populous Arab neighbors to coexist.

Notwithstanding his doubts, Churchill’s experiences during that visit served to solidify both his admiration for the Jewish people and his support of Zionism. He set himself up in Government House in Jerusalem, meeting with both Arab and Jewish delegations. A talented amateur painter, he also found time to create a beautiful landscape of sunset over the city, a work still owned by his descendants.

On March 27, he dedicated the new British Military Cemetery on the Mount of Olives and the following day met with Emir Abdullah, the newly designated King of Trans-Jordan, to assuage his anxiety about the pace of Jewish immigration into the area. While Abdullah was not wholly mollified, Churchill agreed that Jewish settlement east of the River Jordan would be proscribed.

Churchill with Bishop MacInnes of Jerusalem at the memorial service in the Mt. Scopus Military Cemetery, 26 March 1921 (American Colony Photo Dept. / Library of Congress)

Winston Churchill, TE Lawrence and Emir Abdullah walking in the gardens of the Government House in Jerusalem, 1921 (G. Eric Matson / Library of Congress)

Two days later, he planted a tree at the site on Mount Scopus of the future Hebrew University, telling the assembled dignitaries, “My heart is full of sympathy for Zionism. The establishment of a Jewish National Home in Palestine will be a blessing to the whole world.”

Herbert Samuel and Winston Churchill (with shovel) at the tree planting ceremony on the future site of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, 28 March 1921 (G. Eric Matson / Library of Congress)

Winston Churchill speaking at the tree planting ceremony on the future site of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, 28 March 1921 (American Colony Photo Dept. / Library of Congress)

The next day, Churchill received a delegation from the Congress of Palestinian Arabs whose 35-page protest against Zionist activity included a variety of anti-Semitic tropes: “The Jew is clannish and unneighborly. He will enjoy the privileges and benefits of a country but will give nothing in return.”

Churchill vigorously rejected their assertions, saying:

“It is manifestly right that the Jews should have a National Home where some of them may be reunited. And where else could that be but in this land of Palestine, with which for more than 3,000 years they have been intimately and profoundly associated.”

Churchill told the Jewish delegation which followed:

“The cause of Zionism is one which carries with it much that is good for the whole world, and not only for the Jewish people; it will bring prosperity and advancement for the Arab population.”

Before returning to Cairo the evening of March 30, Churchill visited the then twelve-year-old Jewish town of Tel Aviv, meeting with its Mayor Meir Dizengoff, and the agricultural settlement in Rishon LeZion. On his return to London, he told the House of Commons:

“Anyone who has seen the work of the Jewish colonies will be struck by the enormous productive results which they have achieved from the most inhospitable soil.”

Mayor Meir Dizengoff (back right) listens to Winston Churchill speaking at the Tel Aviv City Council on Rothschild Boulevard, 1921. From the Pritzker Family National Photography Collection at the National Library of Israel

Churchill hoped that the Jews of Palestine – and the Jewish majority state that he envisaged might someday grow out of it – would live in a peaceful and productive relationship with their Arab neighbors.

This aspiration has been partially realized in a cold peace with the major states with whom Israel fought three wars after 1948, and now a newly warmer one with the Gulf states. Nonetheless – one hundred years after his visit – he would find that peaceful co-existence between the peoples living within the borders of what was then Mandatory Palestine remains challenging and uncertain.

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Lee Pollock is a Trustee and the former Executive Director of The International Churchill Society, which is co-hosting the symposium “Churchill and the Making of the Middle East: The Cairo Conference One Hundred Years On“.

This article has been published as part of Gesher L’Europa, the National Library of Israel’s initiative to connect with people, institutions and communities across Europe and beyond, through storytelling, knowledge sharing and community engagement.

The Abraham Schwadron Portrait Collection has been reviewed and described thanks to the generous support of The Leir Foundation.