Anonymous Soldiers
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Both the high commissioner and the chief secretary had independently come to the same conclusion. A month before the bombing, Cunningham had warned Hall that “the sands are running out. I am definitely of the opinion that the only hope is to introduce a plan of partition.” Based on his discussions with other senior officials in the Palestine administration as well as with Barker, Shaw was convinced that the government realistically had only two choices. It could either institute the perennially postponed countrywide arms searches as a necessary first step to the forcible disbandment of the illegal Jewish paramilitary movements, in hopes of creating a more favorable climate for negotiations, or simply cut to the chase and impose a political solution of its own devising on Palestine. The first option, Shaw cautioned, would likely “create conditions tantamount to a state of war … make a bad situation worse and final success … problematical.” For that reason, the second was infinitely more preferable, not least because Shaw was convinced that “in view of this latest outrage, further negotiations with the Jews seemed impossible.”40
However, although Montgomery agreed with the chief secretary in principle that a political solution was needed, he thought that the King David bombing demanded an immediate military response commensurate with the outrage. “It is difficult to reconcile the recommendation of the Chief Secretary,” he told Dempsey, “with the fact that during the past six months some 20 … outrages have been committed by the Jews with practically no action by us … Are we to remain on the defensive waiting for the next blow and be dictated to by the terrorists? I agree that a political settlement is what we want but it must take time to get it and meanwhile we are doing nothing.” The CIGS, with Bevin’s support, therefore pressed for the disarming of the Yishuv through searches of all its settlements.41
Attlee, however, was unconvinced. When the cabinet met on July 23 to discuss the government’s response to the hotel bombing, the prime minister argued that arms searches would further alienate the Yishuv and counteract the positive effect that he believed Operation Agatha had achieved in strengthening the community’s “more moderate” leadership. Attlee was also concerned that any unilateral declaration of a policy would compromise the discussions then under way in London with the United States—which, according to Bevin, were “going very well,” with the American delegation hopeful of obtaining Truman’s approval of a new plan for Palestine’s future by the end of the week. The cabinet therefore agreed that nothing should be done for the moment that might adversely affect the outcome of these negotiations. It did, however, approve publication of a white paper detailing the Jewish Agency’s complicity in the previous year’s acts of violence.42
Titled Palestine: Statement of Information Relating to Acts of Violence, the white paper was publicly released the following evening. It presented overwhelming evidence of the Haganah’s alliance with the Irgun and Lehi; its active participation in the series of coordinated Hebrew Resistance Movement attacks that occurred between November 1, 1945, and June 18, 1946; and the Jewish Agency’s political control and oversight of these activities. Telegrams passed between agency officials in London and Jerusalem, which had been intercepted and decoded by British intelligence, were quoted in full, detailing the nature and scope of these relations. The list of people sending and receiving these communications or cited in them comprised a veritable who’s who of the Yishuv’s senior political leadership, including Ben-Gurion, Sneh, Bernard Joseph, and Eliezer Kaplan. Although a Jewish Agency spokesman dismissed the white paper as a “jumble of alleged telegrams,” suggesting that they had all been faked, the implications of the government’s intimate knowledge of both the Jewish Agency’s and the Haganah’s involvement in the resistance movement must have been devastating to the leaders of both organizations. Hitherto, the agency and the Haganah had assumed that the only incriminating evidence against either was to be found in the documents seized on “Black Saturday”—now supposedly destroyed in the King David bombing. The white paper, however, laid bare the mendacity of these Zionist institutions and revealed the extent to which the authorities were fully aware of the joint operations and close relations that existed between the Haganah and the Palmach, on the one hand, and the two terrorist organizations, on the other.43
The cabinet’s optimism over the progress of the latest round of Anglo-American talks was initially rewarded on July 25, when agreement was reached on a provincial autonomy scheme for Palestine. Under the terms of what was dubbed the Morrison-Grady Plan—in reference to the heads of the two delegations, Herbert Morrison, the deputy prime minister and leader of the House of Commons, and Henry Grady, a U.S. diplomat—Palestine would be divided into semiautonomous Arab and Jewish provinces under British trusteeship. The British high commissioner, accordingly, would retain control over all matters pertaining to the country’s defense, foreign relations, customs and excise, and immigration. Subject to Arab and Jewish acceptance of the entire plan, a twelve-month quota was to be established whereby a hundred thousand Jewish refugees would be allowed to settle in Palestine. Thereafter, the high commissioner would be responsible for setting annual quotas. But five days later the Labour government’s high hopes that the plan could form the basis of a lasting political settlement overseen by both the United States and Britain were dashed when Truman caved in to pressure from the American Zionist lobby. Because the plan did not provide for the unconditional admission of a hundred thousand Jewish displaced persons to Palestine, the president refused to support it.44
Although this effectively marked the end of Bevin’s efforts to draw the United States into cooperation over Palestine, the Labour government was determined to resolve the Palestine issue along the lines that the joint plan had proposed. The cabinet therefore decided to go ahead with plans to invite representatives from Palestine’s Jewish and Arab communities, as well as from neighboring Arab states, to a conference in London to discuss the provincial autonomy scheme. Events had gone too far—with the King David bombing adding to the pressure on Britain—to turn back now. The government had in fact already painted itself into a corner by having informed the Arab states of its intention to hold the conference.45
The continued uncertainty over Palestine’s political future had a predictably pernicious impact on the deliberations concerning the appropriate military response to the King David bombing. By the time the cabinet resumed its discussions on July 25, pressure had risen appreciably in Palestine for some signal measure. Indeed, this was one of those rare instances when the CIGS and the high commissioner appeared to be in almost complete agreement. “It is essential that some immediate and striking action should be taken to avoid the Arabs taking the law into their own hands and to maintain the morale of [the] British community and soldiers in Palestine,” Cunningham had written to Hall the previous day. He was especially concerned that the large number of Arab casualties, which included members of some of Palestine’s most prominent families, had created an even more incendiary situation than usual. Accordingly, he advocated a three-pronged approach. In lieu of countrywide arms searches, whose success Cunningham believed was far from assured, the high commissioner supported Barker’s plan to cordon off Tel Aviv and search the entire city. Given that army intelligence had reported (albeit, erroneously) that some, if not all, of the bombers had come to Jerusalem from Tel Aviv, this measure made more sense and was “more politically appropriate,” Cunningham argued, than searches for illegally held arms in rural Haganah settlements. He also recommended that the Palestine administration be allowed to impose a fine of £500,000 on the Yishuv—freezing its bank assets and sequestering the funds of selected Zionist institutions such as the Jewish National Fund and the Palestine Foundation Fund. Finally, the high commissioner proposed the immediate suspension of all legal Jewish immigration as well as a change in policy whereby illegal immigrants would be interned somewhere other than in Palestine—rather than continue to be deducted from the standing monthly quota, as was the current practice.46
The cabinet
considered each and, at Montgomery’s urging, also revisited the countrywide arms search option. Although the ministers agreed that sooner or later it would be necessary to seize all illegal arms in Jewish hands, they also concluded that now was not the time. The minutes record a consensus that “the Jewish community were in a pathological state of mind and we did not wish to provoke a general conflagration.” Cunningham’s proposals about fining the community through the sequestration of funds and suspending immigration were also rejected for fear of undermining the planned conference on the provincial autonomy scheme. The proposed Tel Aviv operation alone was approved.47
That same morning, David Courtney had lamented in his front-page column in The Palestine Post, “It is difficult for the harassed citizen to make head or tail of what is happening or is likely to happen. Monday’s outrage had shocked him and may shock many people of the habit of cool judgment.” Courtney (whose real name was Roy Elston) was that rare species in Palestine: a British gentile who had formerly worked for the Palestine government yet retained a lifelong affection for the Yishuv and remained a loyal friend of the Zionist cause. His words turned out to be more prophetic than he could perhaps have imagined given the general order issued later that day by Barker.48
Under the heading “Terrorist Activities in PALESTINE,” the GOC explained, “The Jewish population of PALESTINE cannot be absolved from responsibility for the long series of outrages culminating on Monday with the blowing up of a large part of the government offices in the King David Hotel, causing grievous loss of life.” Their support, both active and passive, had created a climate where terrorism thrived and “terrorist gangs” operated with impunity. “I am determined that they shall suffer punishment,” Barker continued, “and be made aware of the contempt and loathing with which we regard their conduct.” Effective immediately, all Jewish places of entertainment—including cafés, restaurants, shops, and private dwellings—were declared out-of-bounds to all ranks. “No British soldier is to have any social intercourse with any Jews and any intercourse in the way of duty should be as brief as possible, and kept strictly to the business in hand.” Then, in harsh language that stands in marked contrast to the expressions of sympathy and conciliation evident in Barker’s letter to Weizmann only a few weeks before, the GOC launched into what subsequently was widely regarded as an odious anti-Semitic tirade. “I appreciate that these orders will inflict a measure of hardship upon the troops,” he declared, “but I am confident that if my reasons are fully explained to them they will understand their propriety and that they will be punishing the Jews in a way the race dislikes as much as any, namely by striking them at their pockets and showing our contempt for them.”49
Although the order was marked “Restricted,” it was leaked to the press a few days later. In his 1977 memoir, the Israeli diplomat and politician Abba Eban explained how in July 1946 as a British army officer he came upon Barker’s order displayed on a notice board. “It was a vulgar, anti-Semitic tract,” Eban recalled. “It seemed to me that the public interest demanded that the style as well as the contents of the document become widely known.” So as not to draw attention to himself, Eban casually strolled past the notice board at least half a dozen times in order to memorize the order’s contents, retiring to the lavatory after each pass to write down what he had absorbed. He then headed straight for the Eden Hotel, off King George V Avenue, where he knew the Anglo-Jewish journalist Jon Kimche was staying. “Within a few minutes Kimche had cabled the [order] out of Jerusalem to the international press,” Eban writes, “where it reverberated with full force.”50
The New York Times broke the story on July 28, publishing an essentially verbatim text of Barker’s order. It hit the British papers the following morning and was raised at the cabinet meeting a few hours later. The secretary of state for war, Lawson, promised to provide a full report the next day. His first inclination appears to have been to sack Barker. Only Montgomery’s threat to resign if Lawson did saved Barker his job.51
The CIGS presented a similarly vigorous defense of his subordinate when the cabinet met on July 30. “British forces were conducting very difficult and delicate operations,” he argued, “and … it was established that any information which reached a Jew was liable to be conveyed to the terrorist organisations.” Montgomery’s assumption of full responsibility for the order, and his assurance that he himself would handle the matter, thwarted calls for both the order’s immediate retraction and Barker to be either censured or disciplined. The cabinet agreed instead that when Morrison addressed the House of Commons in Attlee’s absence on July 31, he would simply dissociate the government from the order’s language, assure the House that the CIGS had the matter in hand, and leave it at that. Montgomery’s reprimand in fact amounted to little more than a mild slap on the wrist. Delivered via Dempsey, the rebuke admonished Barker, saying, “The spoken word is better than the written and is far safer.” The matter was closed completely when, for reasons that neither were publicized at the time nor have ever been sufficiently explained, the BBC announced on August 8 that the nonfraternization order had been revoked.52
“The episode may have been small in itself,” Eban later reflected, “but it did much to illustrate how untenable British rule in Palestine had become.” Its timing—coinciding with the long-anticipated debate in the House of Commons on July 31 over the Labour government’s protracted efforts to formulate a new Palestine policy—only exacerbated the frustration welling within the House over the continued absence of a declared government policy for Palestine and the escalating violence. Speaking for the Opposition, Oliver Stanley recounted the escalation of violence that had taken place in Palestine over the previous four years and the government’s failure to halt it. To his mind, these developments raised serious doubts about the viability of continued British rule and, accordingly, the practicality of any solution other than partition. “I and many others have, over the last two or three years,” the former colonial secretary argued,
been forced to consider whether the dreams with which people started this great experiment in Palestine—it is now nearly 30 years ago since the Balfour Declaration—may not have been proven capable of attainment. The dream which everyone had … was of a Palestine in which Jew and Arab would settle down together, would be members together of a Palestinian State, where they would be able to rule themselves, and not desire to rule each other … I wonder whether the time has not come to say that we are deluding ourselves if we really believe there is any prospect … of an outcome of that kind in Palestine.53
The government, however, had to contend with criticism not only from the Tories but from its own party as well. Labour backbenchers like the Reverend Gordon Lang complained that the entire episode involving Barker’s order had been “passed over much too lightly,” noting that one of the banes of Labour’s tenure in power had been the presence of “reactionary people in key positions” who, whether knowingly or not, were undermining its policies. Describing the order as “just vulgar anti-Semitism,” Lang wondered whether in fact it was part of a broader pattern that had included deliberately scheduling Operation Agatha on the Jewish Sabbath. His point was taken up by Richard Crossman, a member of the Anglo-American Committee, who was troubled by the growing anti-Semitic attitudes evident within both the military and British society. His concerns were well justified. A report provided to army intelligence by an officer who had just returned to Palestine from leave in the U.K. evidenced precisely the same intemperate attitudes toward Jews that the Labour MP stated had taken hold in Britain. The pervasiveness of such views in the wake of the King David bombing is borne out by the Mass Observation research project, which documented the popular views of ordinary Britons from 1937 until the 1950s. “Leave them there to scrap it out,” one respondent commented, reflecting the prevailing mood. “It’s one of those dead end problems with no possible way out.”54
When debate resumed on August 1 in the House of Commons over Palestine’s future, many Conservat
ive and Liberal MPs had evidently reached the same conclusion. Although Churchill agreed with them that Britain’s assumption of the League of Nations mandate had proven to be a “thankless, painful, costly, laborious, inconvenient task,” he disagreed with those who precipitously embraced a cut-and-run solution, cautioning the House, “We must not be in a hurry to turn aside from large causes which we have carried far.” American help, Churchill believed, was essential to the success of any lasting settlement, but if it could not be obtained, Britain should “resign our Mandate, as we have, of course, a perfect right to do.”55
While these debates and discussions continued in London, pressure was intensifying in Palestine for what Cunningham had the previous week described as an urgent need for “some immediate and striking action” in response to the bombing. Within twenty-four hours of the incident, Jamal al-Husseini, the acting chairman of the Higher Arab Committee, had written to Bevin to protest the “death of tens of innocent Arabs” that he maintained were the result of the government’s previous inadequate response to repeated acts of Zionist terrorism and provocation. Unless stern measures were taken immediately to “terminate [Jewish] terrorism,” al-Husseini warned, the Arabs would do so themselves—“holding our Government responsible for all consequences.”56