Extract from the Book
There had been a few who died gun in hand, before Sheikh Qassam, there would be many thousands who were to do after him.
On 12 November 1935 a grey-bearded sexagenarian, wearing the turban and cloak of the Muslim cleric, presided over a secret meeting in the old slum quarter of Haifa. Sheikh Ezzedeen Qassam realized he could delay no longer: his hour had come. The British had been in Palestine eighteen years; their rule, resented from the outset, had come quite intolerable in its disregard of Arab interests. Illegal Jewish immigration had reached the record figure of 61,844 a year. More and more Palestinian peasants were forced to leave their farms; others without families slept in the open. Such conditions contrasted humiliatingly with those well-to-do Jewish persona non grata. That was a fertile ground for Sheikh Ezzedeen Qassam and his followers to rise against the usurper. Qassam and his followers resolved to fight and die, and would do so in a week.
His whole life had seemed a preparation this supreme self-sacrifice. A Syrian devout and cultured parentage, he went to Egypt and studied at Al- Azhar, the greatest centre of Muslims, he sat at the feet of Mohammad Abdu, the famous scholar who preached that, through Islam, Arabs and Muslims could rise to the challenge of the modern world. On his return to Syria, Qassam did not confine himself only to teaching, but he took part in various patriotic movements. He was a military leader in one of the uprisings against French rule in Syria.
This is why the French sentenced him to death which caused him to flee to Haifa in Palestine. There he taught, preached did charitable work and set a night school for illiterate. He moved easily among peasants and workers; he knew their intimate thoughts. Everywhere he warned the gravity of the Zionist invasion, he urged a true a spirit of patriotism, the ending of divisions, the emulation of the heroes of early Islam.
Verses from the Quran, particular those which called for struggle and sacrifice, were constantly on his lips. And everywhere, but especially in the mosques, he looked for disciples among the pious and God-fearing. Over the years, with great care and patience, he gathered about himself a band of followers. There were about 800 of them altogether; 200 of them received military training. They pledged to give their lives for Palestine. They were expected to supply their own arms and to contribute all else they could to the cause. Their training was done by stealth at night.
After the meeting in Haifa, Qassam and a group of his closest comrades, almost all of them peasants, made their way inland to the wooded hills of Jenin. They had sold their wives' jewellery and some of their household furnishings to buy rifles and ammunition. They spent the daytime in caves, near the village of Ya'bud, praying and reciting the Quran. At night they attacked the Jews and the British. At least that was their intention, for they barely had time for action. The British forces lost no time in sending its forces aided by reconnaissance planes to hunt them down. Surprised and overwhelmed, Sheikh Ezzedeen Qassam was forced into a premature battle. Called upon to surrender, he shouted back: "Never, this is a Jihad for God and country." He encouraged his followers to 'die as martyrs'. When he saw the troops, he ordered his men to attack the British. After a battle lasting several hours, Qassam and three or four companions were killed, the rest were captured.
It had been a brief and—from a military point of view—futile rebellion. But it stirred up the Palestinian masses. It pointed the insurrectional way ahead. And that was all Sheikh Qassam had hoped for. The Jews failed to grasp its significance. For them, Sheikh Qassam was a kind of freak, the product on unnatural fanaticism. They (the Jews) could not see that, fifteen years after their own hero's exemplary death, the Palestinians in their turn now had the legend they needed. There had been a few who died gun in hand, before Sheikh Qassam, there would be many thousands who were to do after him. But in his deep piety, in his unswerving sense of mission, he was the archetypal "Fedayi"—' one who sacrifices himself'—of the Palestinian struggle. In the struggle against the twentieth-century invader, Sheikh Qassam is the outstanding example in a tradition of heroism.
A huge throng attended Sheikh Qassam's funeral in Haifa. He was buried ten kilometers away in the village of Yajour; the mourners bore the coffin all the way on foot. They shouted slogans against the British and the Jewish; they stoned the police. In Cairo, the newspaper alAhram wrote: ' Dear friend and martyr, I heard you preaching in mosques, calling us to arms, but today, preaching from the Boson of God, you were more eloquent in death than life'.