A new foundation

Increasingly disillusioned by the limitations of politics, Al-Qattan sought a different path to try to deliver lasting support to the Palestinian struggle. He believed that true change would come not from fleeting political manoeuvres but through strategic and patient investments in education and culture, the foundations of a resilient society.

With this vision, in 1993, Al-Qattan and his wife, Leila, established the A M Qattan Foundation in London, where they were living at the time.

“We uphold our belief that Palestine is an inseparable part of the rich intellectual heritage we call Arab culture," Al-Qattan wrote on the new foundation’s website. "And that in order to honour its activists and their sacrifices, Palestine must be a living, breathing entity, fully engaged in the global cultural landscape.”

For him, the key to this vision lay in the next generation. “We believe that investing in the children of Palestine and the Arab world is the most effective way to achieve these goals,” he explained. As the foundation grew, so did its mission. “Over time, it became clear that an independent, professional organisation was needed—one with a clear methodology to develop pioneering projects in arts and education and to ensure their continuity.”

It was not just a philanthropic endeavor but a true commitment to nurturing a future where Palestinian identity thrived through knowledge, creativity, and cultural exchange.

It came at a time of significant political, cultural, and social fragility in Palestine, including a weakened education system, deep ideological splits between separate visions for Palestine, and a generation worn down by decades of violence and insecurity.

“From the start therefore, we were preoccupied with trying to shape and influence a new generation, beginning with children and young people,” explains Omar, Al-Qattan, his youngest son.

As the founding executive director of the A M Qattan Foundation, Ziad Khalaf remembers well the early brainstorming sessions with people both within Palestine and from across the diaspora.

“These conversations led us to a clear decision to focus on culture, arts, and education, and to target young people and the professional development of teachers and educators,” he recalls. “It always was – and remains today – a very forward-looking foundation with a clear focus on the next generation.”

The early days of the foundation were not easy, Khalaf recalls. “People in authority were looking at us with a degree of suspicion. They knew of Mr Al-Qattan and his previous involvement with the PLO and we received a lot of calls suggesting we hired X, Y, and Z.

“But with backing from Mr Al-Qattan, we stood our ground and didn’t succumb to these demands, “he says. “Mr Al-Qattan was clear from the outset about this, and we felt very empowered and within a few months, we stopped getting the calls.”

Khalaf recalls one day asking Al-Qattan the source of his success and tells how he pulled out a small piece of paper from his pocket and explained it was his list of daily tasks. “He told me he slept with that piece of paper and if he woke up in the night and remembered something, he would add it to the list and make sure it was done the next day.”

Al-Qattan wasn’t always easy to work with though. He could sometimes flare up in meetings, recalls Khalaf and he “wouldn’t tolerate ambiguous answers”. “He was a demanding person, definitely; demanding on himself and on others because he always wanted the best. 

“I learned over time that in dealing with him, you had to be generous with information and keep lines of communication open, but if you did, he would always respond and give you answers or support almost instantly, and that is rare and wonderful.”

As the AM Qattan Foundation grew, developing a raft of programmes and initiatives to support artists, creators, young people, and educators – and the communities in which they lived – it also brought in new funding from a range of partner donors.

But despite the rapid expansion, the foundation’s focus on its core values remained. “There was always a lot of review and reflection,” notes Khalaf. “We were very careful to measure our impact and remained ready to change direction, or gear, if required, which sometimes we did.”

Khalaf says the A M Qattan Foundation set out to create a new paradigm for social impact. “I’ve always despised the hit-and-run approaches you often see in international development, especially in circumstances of conflict, like we have in Palestine,” he explains. 

Working in Palestine, he says, requires “diligent and continuous work with and a lot of compassion and empathy,” two things he says he always felt from the Al-Qattans. But despite the couple’s undoubtedly strong influence on the work of the foundation, its priorities remained rooted in the communities they were seeking to serve.

“The foundation was always ground up, that was an important strategic decision taken from the outset,” says Khalaf.

Mahmoud Abu Hashhash is the director of Culture and Education at the A M Qattan Foundation. A well-known Palestinian poet in his own right, Abu Hashhash has worked at the foundation since its launch and has watched its evolution through the decades. 

“When we started out, the culture discourse was something really different,” he says. “The foundation was really a pioneer in that and has and continues to play a big part in encouraging other organisations in this space.”

Remembering the early programmes, Abu Hashhash says: “We started out very light, we were very modest. Mr Al-Qattan wanted us to go step by step. The programme I joined had a budget of just US$80,000, but it ended up growing to more than US$2million.” 

Abu Hashhash recalls the mix of opportunities and difficulties of working in Palestine after the Oslo Accords. “There was very much this threat to the wholeness of Palestinian identity, which organisations like the PLO had worked very hard to build after the Nakba,” he explains.

This led to the foundation very deliberately opening itself up to all Palestinians wherever they were from, he says, “from those that just had one grandparent who was Palestinian, to people living in Palestine with their whole family.” And he adds: “It was very important to us not to surrender to the fragmentation of Oslo. Mr Al-Qattan was clear about that.”

Although less of a public figure than her husband, Al-Qattan’s wife, Leila, was a key force in the foundation and a quiet but important presence in board meetings.  

Khalaf remembers doing a presentation to the board and Leila speaking to him afterwards telling him to “be humble”.  “I think I was probably a bit over-enthusiastic that day in my delivery, but her words really struck me and they still resonate today,” he says.

He also recalls how thoughtful Leila was and how she would never forget a name or to serve a visitor their favourite meal.

In 1998, a branch of the A M Qattan Foundation was established in Palestine, and a year later, Al-Qattan, then in his 70s, made his first visit to the country since his family had been forced to flee back in 1948.

The trip was in part to meet the foundation staff and view their work in person, but also to receive an honorary doctorate from Birzeit University, Palestine’s most prestigious higher education institution.

The ceremony, which took place in the Kamal Nasir Hall, which Al-Qattan had funded in memory of his friend, a renowned poet murdered by Israeli commandos in 1972, was attended by university faculty, friends, and dignitaries. Dr. Hanna Nasir, then-President of Birzeit University, and a respected academic and political figure, highlighted Al-Qattan’s significant contributions to Palestinian society and education. 

Although there were many official and semi-official events during this first trip, recalls his son Omar who accompanied him, the most moving part was the journey to visit Al-Qattan’s childhood house in the Jabalieh neighbourhood of Jaffa, which still stands today. 

“Despite his fifty years of exile, he was able to spot it instantly,” Omar remembers. “He was visibly moved but did not say much, staring in silence. Then he turned to us with an amusing anecdote about the small mosque which had stood next door, and which had now become a small synagogue. 

He said ‘Your grandfather’s ultimate ambition for me was to return from high school and to become the imam of this small mosque, but he died soon after I went to Jerusalem. I remember clearly the day I was called back to see him for the last time. And then of course our history took the many horrific turns that it did.’”