by Avi Shlaim
Abdullah had not been groomed to be king and his father had not spoken about him as a possible successor, but from early 1998 he was accorded a steadily higher public profile. He was given an office in the royal court, and he was seen more often at his father’s side. In March, Abdullah accompanied his father on a visit to the United States and took part in some of his meetings. In May, on the forty-fifth anniversary of Hussein’s ascent to the throne, Abdullah, who was the officer commanding the Special Forces, was promoted from the rank of colonel to that of major-general. His promotion combined with his popularity, not to mention his pedigree, made him a credible candidate for the post of deputy chief of staff and eventually chief of staff.7
Hussein’s own attitude towards the Hashemite succession was constantly evolving and essentially equivocal. For Hussein, thoughts about changing the succession were nothing new. After his first brush with cancer in 1992, he had begun to think aloud about the subject in the presence of his close aides. Adnan Abu-Odeh recalls a flight to Brunei with the king and his favourite nephew, Prince Talal bin Muhammad. The king sought Abu-Odeh’s reaction to some new ideas about the future of the family (Talal was not sitting with them during this conversation). He was vague but did say the following: ‘My brother Muhammad, because of his illness, was excluded and I chose my younger brother. Who is to come after my brother?’ The king was not talking about replacing Prince Hassan but wondering who should come after him. He wanted to see justice achieved in the family after Hassan. The king had expressed his love, affection and respect for Talal on many occasions. He now asked Abu-Odeh to educate him in the affairs of state. The king thought highly of Talal but the context was one of being fair, of not excluding his other brother, Prince Muhammad, from being a successor to King Abdullah I through his children.8
Hussein’s chequered private life complicated the question of the succession. He had five sons: Abdullah and Faisal from his second marriage; Ali from his third marriage; Hamzah and Hashim from his fourth marriage. Hamzah was said to be his favourite son. He closely resembled his father in physical appearance and in manner; he was also brought up bilingually, with a very impressive command of classical Arabic and a knowledge of the Koran. Queen Noor, who had converted to Islam just before her marriage, brought up her eldest son to be an Arab king. She was rumoured to be lobbying her husband to replace his brother with their son as crown prince and heir-apparent. On Hamzah’s eighteenth birthday Hussein sent him an open letter stating that the prince was destined for ‘great achievements’ and pointing out that he himself had been eighteen when he ascended the throne. The letter indicated that Hamzah was being groomed for bigger and better things. Hussein’s transparent attempt to advance his favourite son’s fortunes seemed both to reveal his true wishes and to reflect Queen Noor’s growing influence behind the scenes.9
Marwan Kasim, as chief of the royal court in 1995–6, also heard the king talk about the young generation of Hashemite princes, with particular reference to Hamzah. Before Hamzah could become heir to the throne, a constitutional amendment would be necessary, as the constitution stipulated that the crown prince could be only one of the king’s brothers or his eldest son. On one occasion the king told Kasim that he wanted to introduce the following article into the constitution: ‘The crown prince of my crown prince will be Hamzah bin Hussein.’ Kasim took legal advice, which confirmed that such a change would be possible; but he feared that it would be fraught with political risks, so he told the king that this was a matter between himself and his brother.10 Hussein also periodically raised the idea of a Hashemite family council, whose main task would be to choose a successor to Hassan from the pool of young princes. As his sister Basma understood it at the time, he was looking for ways and means of modernizing and invigorating the monarchy by drawing on the talents of its younger members.11
Speculation about Hassan’s future refused to die down. At first Hussein tried to scotch it. In mid August he dismissed rumours concerning the succession to the throne as ‘nonsensical’: he stressed that the succession was firmly in the hands of HRH Crown Prince El Hassan, and that speculation to the contrary was ‘out of line’. When an Israeli paper reported American doubts about Hassan, Secretary of State Madeleine Albright called Hassan and assured him that the report was untrue. Hussein subsequently reiterated his ‘unwavering’ confidence in his brother, ‘who has shouldered his responsibilities and performed his duties fully. As for what may transpire after that in the future… there is no justification at all for raising the subject now.’12
One of the most difficult duties that Hassan had to perform as regent was to stand in for his brother as a facilitator in the Israeli–Palestinian negotiations on final status. Yet he discharged this role with distinction. Jordan was not a participant in the final-status talks, but it expected to play a pivotal role. As Prince Hassan put it, Jordan ‘would endeavour to be a centre of gravity’. Jordan had a vital interest in these negotiations: it could not afford to shoulder the political costs of a collapsing peace process. The person chiefly responsible for the impasse was, predictably, the Israeli prime minister Binyamin Netanyahu. To break the impasse President Clinton convened a summit meeting at the Wye Plantation with Netanyahu and Arafat. Wye is a conference centre on the Chesapeake about an hour and a half’s drive from Washington, DC. The Wye summit opened on 17 October 1998 and lasted five days. Deadlock was reached after a few days of bad-tempered talks, and Netanyahu threatened to pack his bags and leave. Clinton called Hussein at the Mayo Clinic, where preparations were being made for his upcoming bone-marrow transplant, and asked for his advice on the stalled peace talks. Hussein immediately offered to go to the Plantation to help, no matter what the doctors said. Clinton accepted the offer.
By this time Netanyahu had become just about everybody’s pet hate at the Mayo. The doctors and nurses shared the joke that their royal patient was afflicted by the Bibi bug. Few people, however, realized how seriously ill Hussein was when he again volunteered his services as a peacemaker. He was feeling frail and physically exhausted. Queen Noor accompanied him to Wye almost literally in a nursing capacity. They went to River House, their home on the Potomac, for a rest and the next day travelled on to Wye Mills on the president’s helicopter, Marine 1. On landing, they were taken to Houghton House, a lovely private home in the grounds overlooking the Wye River. First the American negotiators and then the Palestinians arrived to brief the visitor. ‘Clinton looks totally exhausted and fed up,’ Noor noted in her journal. ‘The Palestinians are shocked, some to tears, by their first sight of Hussein since his illness began.’13 Dennis Ross, the chief peace processor, detailed the preparations for Hussein’s arrival as well as his contribution to the proceedings:
The King’s lymphoma was advanced and he was highly susceptible to infection; the Secretary announced to all of us that we needed to rub a special disinfectant soap on our hands shortly before greeting him. The State Department’s Chief of Protocol walked around the table squeezing the soap from a bottle onto the hands of President Clinton, Arafat, Netanyahu, and the rest of us. This act and the gravity of the King’s physical appearance – bald, gaunt, and gray – made the moment extremely poignant.
After the King greeted everyone, the President summarized where we were, going over each of the issues… When the President finished, the King spoke movingly of his being with us, the importance of the progress that was now being made, his expectation that we would finish this evening, and the need to put the remaining differences in perspective: ‘These differences pale in comparison to what is at stake. After agreement both sides will look back and not even recall these issues. It is now time to finish, bearing in mind the responsibility that both leaders have to their people and especially the children.’
When he concluded, he again walked slowly around the table shaking hands. Arafat refrained from giving him his customary kiss on both cheeks, instead kissing his shoulder in order to avoid making contact with his skin.
The King’s a
ppearance and words moved us all. A pall hung over the table, and for ten minutes or so Bibi and Arafat spoke about the King’s humanity and dedication and commitment to peace.14
Hussein’s emotional appeal to the parties to rise above politics and work towards a better future for their children changed the tone of the talks but not for long. Hussein and his wife left Wye that evening to go home to River House so he could sleep in his own bed. When the negotiators resumed work on the specific issues at hand, Netanyahu dug in his heels again, citing domestic politics as his excuse. Even on a minor issue, the number of Palestinian prisoners to be released by Israel, his behaviour was erratic and baffling. Clinton was irate; he paced back and forth and told his aides: ‘That SOB doesn’t want a deal. He is trying to humiliate Arafat and me in the process. What the hell does he expect Arafat to do in that situation?’15
Late that night Clinton called Hussein at River House and told him that they had again reached a dead end and that Netanyahu’s plane was being readied for departure. Hussein convinced Clinton to hold firm and not to give in to Netanyahu’s demands. If Netanyahu carried out his threat to leave, Hussein suggested that he and Clinton should hold a press conference to tell the world what had happened and to pin the responsibility for failure on Netanyahu. Hussein went to bed that night not knowing what the morning would bring, but Netanyahu turned out to be bluffing. In the morning the Israeli was still around, and the rollercoaster continued. Clinton asked Hussein to return to Wye for last-minute trouble-shooting, and back he went. ‘You cannot afford to fail,’ Hussein told the two Middle Eastern leaders and their aides. ‘You owe this to your people, to your children, to future generations.’ The two sides kept working all that day and all that night, until, at dawn, they had a deal. It was a modest one but better than failure. Israel agreed to return in stages 13 per cent of the West Bank to the Palestinians and to release some Palestinian prisoners. The peace process was still alive, and Clinton invited the king and the queen to participate in the signing ceremony at the White House on 23 October.16
This was a high-profile media event, with the president acting as an accomplished master of ceremonies. People who saw Hussein on television screens round the world were shocked by his loss of hair and weight. But he sounded forceful as he presented his case for peace between long-standing enemies. ‘We quarrel, we agree. We are friendly, we are not friendly,’ he said. ‘But we have no right to dictate through irresponsible action or narrow-mindedness the future of our children and their children’s children. There has been enough destruction. Enough death. Enough waste. It is time that, together, we occupy a place beyond ourselves, our peoples, that is worthy of them under the sun, the descendants of the children of Abraham.’17 Hussein received many accolades for his contribution to the successful outcome of the summit. President Clinton remarked that the king was physically the weakest and the most fragile among them but morally the strongest.18
The Jordanians portrayed the summit as a service to vital Jordanian interests and as an illustration of their country’s indispensable regional role. They also saw the king’s participation as an expression of international recognition of his personal stature and prestige.19 In retrospect, Hussein’s departure from his sickbed to support and guide the negotiators at Wye may be seen as his last practical contribution to the cause of peace. Hussein would be nominated for a Nobel Prize in 1998 for all his years of effort towards peace in the Middle East. The prize was ultimately awarded to the political leaders of Northern Ireland, but he was honoured by the nomination.
Hussein had a bone marrow tap when they returned to the Mayo, his fifth or sixth, but this one was particularly agonizing to watch. He was under a general anaesthetic and did not feel anything, but watching them wrench his body around and then violently break through the bone was so disturbing that a new nurse observing the procedure fainted. Noor empathized with her, as she was herself shaken by the brutal torment that her husband’s body had to endure. The bone marrow was donated by Hussein’s sister Basma and his brother Muhammad, the only members of his family whose blood was compatible for harvesting cells for a transplant. Hassan offered to help, but his blood was of a different type. Hussein gave an interview to Jordan Television, telling his people that the latest test showed no trace of lymphoma. ‘Thank God that everything is proceeding in a good manner,’ he said. ‘By God’s will, this will be the final stage of treatment, after which I will return home.’ The Mayo Clinic issued its own statement. ‘His Majesty is in complete remission from lymphoma,’ the clinic said, and went on to explain that he would have an auto-transplant of his own healthy stem cells, a standard procedure to ensure a permanent remission.20
At about this time an incident occurred that may have affected Hussein’s attitude towards his brother and heir-apparent. The Israeli newspaper Yediot Aharonot published an article that reported American sources as saying that Hussein had only three months to live. Randa Habib inadvertently became a player as well as a reporter in the events that unfolded subsequently. Habib was a French journalist of Lebanese origins who had headed the office of the Agence France Presse in Jordan since 1987 and enjoyed privileged access to the king. The agency’s Jerusalem office called her that morning because they wanted to pick up the story, but she told them to wait until she got a reaction from the palace. She expected a prompt official denial. Yet all her efforts in the course of the next four hours to get a comment from the regent’s office were in vain. She asked Prime Minister Tarawneh whether the king was dying, and he vigorously disputed this assessment. When she asked him why he was not issuing an official denial, he looked embarrassed. She then called Foreign Minister Abdul Ilah al-Khatib and asked him the same question. He replied that they had instructions not to comment. Habib concluded that Hassan had a hidden agenda – that he wanted Jordanians to hear the story and get used to the idea that their king was dying. She did not know how the king found out, but the next day he called her and said, ‘Thank you for what you have done. I always knew I could count on you. Always follow your gut feeling.’ Habib found out later that Hussein was very hurt when he learned that his brother would not deny the rumour about his imminent death. In her judgement, this incident was instrumental in sealing Hassan’s fate.21
The Jordanian constitution states that an absence of the monarch from the country for over four months, while parliament is in recess, requires the convening of parliament for a special session. Parliament was duly convened on 22 November for a session that was no more than a mere formality. Prime Minister Fayez Tarawneh made a statement on the monarch’s health, claiming that he had fully recovered and was to return home in the near future. Six days later Prince Hassan opened the regular session of parliament with the traditional speech from the throne. Despite these official announcements, all kinds of rumours continued to circulate about plans to change the succession. Some journalists reported that Queen Noor was tirelessly campaigning for her son Hamzah to replace her brother-in-law as crown prince, while others suggested that Hussein’s second wife, Princess Muna, was lobbying on behalf of her son Abdullah. Abdullah himself told a journalist that he was proud of the fact that his father was called Abu Abdullah and that, constitutionally, there was nothing to prevent him from becoming king. Assuming the posture of a senior sibling, he contended that speculation was placing unnecessary pressure on Hamzah and that he should be allowed to grow up in peace. When asked whether he himself wanted to be king, Abdullah evaded the question, arguing that whatever he might say could be misinterpreted.22
Anyone could speculate about the future of Prince Hassan and the chances of the other candidates for the Hashemite throne, and journalists had a field day. Only one man, however, had the power to make changes. A major reason for the uncertainty surrounding the succession was that Hussein rarely spoke, even in private, about the subject. In the past he had often acted decisively and even impulsively, but on this matter he experienced great difficulty in making up his mind. Hussein was torn between his sense of
duty towards his younger brother, who had served him so loyally for the past thirty-four years, and his love for two of his sons, Abdullah and Hamzah. Hussein faced a complex choice between demoting his brother there and then or allowing his brother to succeed but arranging for the succession to return to his line of the family after Hassan’s reign. Hassan’s son Rashid was nineteen years old, and, if matters were allowed to follow their natural constitutional course, Rashid would succeed upon his father’s death. Hussein was isolated in the Mayo and cut off from contact with his brother. His illness, the chemotherapy and the gruelling treatment that he had to undergo made it all the more difficult for him to think clearly and to reach a final conclusion. It is a natural human tendency to put off unpleasant choices, and Hussein was not immune to this. He procrastinated and procrastinated until his own imminent death forced him to make a decision.
After Queen Noor, the person who spent most time with Hussein in his last months was his ADC, Colonel Hussein al-Majali. He was the son of Hazza’ al-Majali, the prime minister who had been assassinated by Syrian agents on 29 August 1960. Hussein Majali was seven months old when his father was assassinated. Hussein became his guardian, mentor, idol and, eventually, his friend. Majali reciprocated the king’s kindness with fierce loyalty and boundless devotion. He was at the king’s side throughout the last seven months of his life, attending to his every need. Majali’s brother Ayman was the king’s chief of protocol, and he too spent long stretches of time in attendance at the Mayo. Hussein Majali, however, was the only Jordanian official to accompany the king on the last, desperate leg of his journey. He was the ultimate courtier, privy to his master’s thoughts, feelings and suffering. Although Majali claimed that he was completely neutral in the matter of the succession, there were family loyalties at play. His sister was the second wife of Prince Muhammad bin Talal, the king’s middle brother, who was said to harbour some lingering ill feelings towards Hassan for upstaging him as crown prince. Nevertheless, Majali is more important as a witness than as an actor in the drama that unfolded during the last seven months of the king’s life.
