Bleik's

Democracy for slaves

2007-03-06T23:44:00.000+01:00

Everytime I watch or read some news about demonstrations in Lebanon, I am astonished at the number of people that the Lebanese political leaders manage to pull out on the streets, and by how they swear by those numbers as a testimony to their popularity. "Democracy" they say. Demonstration here, mass movement there... it's democracy talking, the will of the people. And I am even more astonished at the fact that some people do indulge in the belief that this is democracy... French style "manifestation". Democracy here, democracy there... democracy everywhere! Good!

But has it occurred to anyone taking place in these "manifestations" that manifesting something means showing a will? And that a demonstration or a "manifestation", in order to be truly democratic, has to come from the self-conscious will of the people to express or to act, without being told to?

In Lebanon, this process is actually... reversed! It is the will of one person, a leader, which is expressed by the people, who are told to demonstrate that they support the will of this person. It is the will of a person, a leader, which is dictated on the people, making them believe that it is theirs. In fact, the people are only using their freedom of expression in order to support this leader's will, not their own's . By a tweak of words, they are made believe that they are expressing themselves freely using "democratic means" like demonstrating. But what is a democratic mean? Is a demonstration democracy?

In ancient Greece, Rome and other societies, the slaves, who were not masters of their destinies, had the right to speak their minds but could not impose their wills on their masters, who were their leaders. They had freedom of speech and of thought, but were not free to control their destinies. They could tell their leaders that they were not happy, or that they did not want to be slaves (their masters knew it, anyway), but they could not change the set of rules by which they lived, to their advantage, or according to their own beliefs. Slaves they were, although free to express themselves, even to write their thoughts, or to claim their rights in front of courts!

Self-expression, or the freedom of it, is not democracy. It is a right, given or not, but it is not democracy. And he who thinks that speaking his mind and shouting it in the street is free, while unable to make his leaders follow suit, or even to change his leaders if they don't follow suit, providing the majority of the people share his views about his life and destiny, is not free. He is a slave.

And it seems to me that in Lebanon, as long as the people are unable to face the leaders and make them go if they are not pleased with their performances, they will remain the slaves that they are. And this also applies to other Middle-Eastern countries where "democracy" is a la mode.

Beirut basics - part IV : Spirit

2007-02-28T00:25:00.000+01:00

However brutal, noisy, dirty or ugly it can sometimes be, Beirut remains the city where life, not shells, explodes against the backstage of the clearest sky ever, where East meets West in spirit, architecture, literature, people and vision. It is a city of old and new, constantly challenged, constantly moving, never the same and yet unchanged.

It is a place where Muslims wish merry Christmas, and Christians invite Muslims to Ramadan fast-breaking feasts without having to engage in polite conversations about religion. It is a place where church bells ring unabated while the muezzin chants to the glory of God. In Beirut, being Muslim or Christian, or both, is normal, no questions asked, no explanations to give or classes to take in order to understand the other.

Beirut is a place where a synagogue still stands after 20 years of war, damaged like all other Beirut buildings, but still there because no one destroyed it although they could have. It is a place where people meet to discuss diverging godly and earthly matters without having to justify where they came from, because they were simply born here.

It is a place where people work hard, as can be seen from the extraordinary dynamism of the city. It is a place where ambition can drive you high, or drive you out.

Beirut is no different than Lebanon, with diverse shapes, colors, places, communities, religions, ideas and people. But what makes it special is that it is a concentrate of Lebanon, making it a very special and unique place in the country, and indeed in the whole region close and far. No such other place exists in the Middle-East or the Arab world at large. Other cities may compete with Beirut on many of its attributes : Dubai is cosmopolitan and rich, Cairo is grand, historical and noisy, Damascus is filled with ancient palaces, mosques and churches, Amman is civilized, Tunis is wonderful, Istanbul is a meeting place of East and West, Casablanca is moving and partying... but Beirut is all this at once, all the time, all these elements are constantly competing with each other, yet seem to be needing each other to exist.

But in Beirut, ugliness can overshadow beauty, and poorness make richness shameful. In Beirut you can cry of despair and become hysterically happy, because of the city itself. It can drive you towards madness or reason, it can make you leave and yet yearn to come back.

The secret? A unique blend of self-regulated lawlessness, order, chaos, religion, richness, poverty, weather, people, but most of all, a love of life and a dynamism which is everywhere apparent. This blend is what gives the feeling of, as Beirutis say, "everything is possible".

This is what makes this city unique, at times unbearable yet simply unforgettable.

Beirut basics - part III : Political

2007-02-28T00:24:00.000+01:00

Political Beirut, like its population, is a blend of everything which exists in the country and in the Middle-east. No single party or ideology has the lead, and all of them fight, sometimes to the death, among its walls. Here is why :

First of all, it is the capital of Lebanon, home to its Parliament and all other political institutions, therefore representative of all Lebanese constituencies.

Second, being capital of Lebanon and Lebanon being a country sharing a border with Israel, most decisions taken at the regional or international levels affecting Israel will automatically have an impact on Beirut and Lebanese politics.

Third, Beirut is a combination of strong familial, political and religious communities and not unlike the rest of country, every party, family or community has some kind of allegiance to local and foreign ideals, parties or governments.

Fourth, it is the headquarter of most Lebanese political parties, even when those parties do not hold their popular roots in Beirut but since it is the capital, they have to be here in order to exert influence.

Fifth, Beirut is a very flexible financial and trade center home to important merchant communities for whom "everything is possible" by tradition, seeing the tangential nature or the rule of law and where funding can be relatively freely delivered to and from anywhere in the world, conveniently secretly.

Sixth and not less important, political Beirut is not only Beirut. Its southern suburbs are home to large swathes of the country's Shiaa population where the Hezbollah party holds seat, and its northern and eastern suburbs home to large Christian, mainly Maronite, populations whose allegiances are not homogeneous.

Due to all of the above elements and like all of Lebanon, Beirut is a political kaleidoscope which can switch colors and turn upside down at the willingness of history. Which makes it important, powerful, yet dangerous.

Beirut basics - part II : Social

2007-02-28T00:22:00.000+01:00

Like almost every capital or big city in the worlds, social Beirut is very heterogeneous. People from all backgrounds, social levels, religions and sects populate its erratically positioned buildings and houses. It is also home to large amounts of expatriates from Asian countries like the Philippines, Sri Lanka and India, and Middle-Eastern countries like Syria, Jordan, Iraq or Egypt. Most these expatriates are laborers or house workers and therefore form a population of their own, even if part of the social tissue of the city. Other expatriates include Europeans (mostly French and British) and Americans, most of them here for work or familial reasons (married to Lebanese). Another large resident population, albeit invisible, are the Palestinian refugees who live in integrated camps like those of Sabra, Chatila, Mar Elias or Hay el Lija.

Most Beirutis, as the people of Beirut are called, trace their roots to other parts of Lebanon. Indeed, many of them have secondary houses in the mountain villages which sent them or their ancestors to Beirut. And many of those go back to their villages for weekends, summers, or important ceremonies like marriages or funerals.

"Original" Beirutis, or longer-generation residents of the city, are actually some three dozen families whose roots date back many hundred years back (even if these same roots can be traced back to other countries as well, especially Syria, Egypt and the Arabian Peninsula). Mostly Sunni Muslim and Orthodox Christian, they form the core of the Beiruti society and share much in common at the level of culture, history, traditions and memory. A handful of them are prominent in terms of political and financial influence, although this influence has greatly diminished over time. They still nevertheless exert some kind of political power mostly at the local level, and the Beirut Sunni population still forms the core of the Sunni electorate of the country.

At the end of the brutal Lebanese war, Beirut had underwent profound changes both at the surface and internal levels, and its population was widely affected by the war which divided their city along separation lines which now have ceased to exist but whose scars do remain in a collective psychology which has been working since 1990 on a "forget and forgive" basis. The after-war years also had an effect on the people and the city, in that the geography and boundaries have expanded to engulf the nearby suburbs, and the old city center became a modern business and entertainment center out of reach for most people (except for entertainment) and therefore lost its pre-war role as a melting pot for all Beirut's middle and lower class constituencies. Beirut today is a product of the war and the after-war.

Beirut's population at large is quite conservative and value driven although at times surprisingly open-minded, and like the rest of country has a penchant for being fairly materialistic with an apparent penchant for mercantilism and entertainment. A "live and let live" tradition is strongly anchored, provided certain limits are not crossed especially when it comes to respecting religious traditions or the territorial integrity of certain neighborhoods. Indeed, most Beirutis live in patches of fairly homogeneous quarters (in terms of religious coloration), some neighborhoods (Hamra, Ras Beirut) being much more mixed than others. Even if they do mix together freely and pride themselves in their strong tradition of openness and acceptance towards each other, they are fairly territorial and quite conscious about their religious and social origins.

This melting pot usually lives in peace, but in times of trouble things can sometimes get out of hand, without endangering the whole spirit of openness and co-existence which is quite readily reminded of by everyone, from the street dwellers to the religious scholars.

Beirut basics - part I : a short history

2007-02-28T00:19:00.000+01:00

The promontory on which Beirut resides is essentially rocky, surrounded by fertile plains and pine forests which climb up towards nearby Mount Lebanon. It is surrounded by the sea to the north, south and west, with the mountains forming the eastern backstage. While traces of human life in Beirut have been found as far as prehistoric times, Beirut as a human agglomeration dates back to approximately 4000 BC. During Phoenician times, it was mostly a small fishermen and workers village, which lacked the importance and strength of its neighbors Byblos and Tripoli to the north, and Sidon and Tyre to the South. Beirut became Berytus under the Romans, who recognized the strategic importance of its geographical situation and built a city which boasted palaces, universities, as well as a famous Law library whose importance matched that of Alexandria. But Beirut was ravaged, like 7 times afterwards, by a huge earthquake which leveled it to the ground, and everything had to start back from scratch. Like the rest of country, it was visited by all kinds of civilisations, from Pharaonic Egyptians to Assyrians, Babylonians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Crusaders, Ottomans, etc.

Beirut was relatively unheard of during most of its history, although several times mentioned in travelers' notes for its beauty and charm, due to its gardens, constructions, welcoming people and geographical location. It was mostly a quiet trader's and fishermen's town nestled among its walls on the western and northern tips of the promontory, where travelers as well as diplomats often stopped to rest, where religious education of all kinds flourished peacefully thanks to its open governorate and central location. Its vast swathes of land attracted the inhabitants of the mountains for settlement and, like many of their countrymen, departure to foreign lands through its port. The port always played an important role in Beirut's commercial livelihood, because of its location on the northern part of the promontory, where deeper and calmer seas allowed ships of all sizes to shore up easily. Beirut was therefore relatively prosperous, albeit quieter than other cities of the Lebanese coast.

Beirut began to move towards the end of the 18th century when the Ottomans, due to a combination of geopolitical games, both local and international (the French and British, as well as the Americans, had started to use Beirut as a base for their religious, political and military expeditions throughout the whole Levant region), gave more and more attention to Beirut which gradually became a settling spot for diplomatic and religious representations of all kinds. The Grandes Puissances were attracted by the city's religious tolerance, its port, its strategic location which gained importance with the opening of a new mountain road to Damascus which made travel much easier and most of all, faster. With this came the traders, the foreign expatriates, as well as the indigenous populations of Mount Lebanon which were fleeing political instability and war to settle down in prospering Beirut. Moreover, local influential families were readily permeable to these cultural and political changes, which soon made their fortunes both politically and materially.

Towards the end of the 19th century, helped by the decline of nearby Saida which lost its position as the "port of Damascus", Beirut became the political, religious, cultural and trade center for the Levant region. After the Ottoman Empire's decline, the French mandate and the independence movements against it, Beirut, already a fully fledged metropolis (by local standards), was declared capital of the Republic of Lebanon, born on the 22nd of November, 1943.

The Sunni / Shiaa divide

2007-01-21T12:10:00.000+01:00

Taken from a conversation I had on Friday Jan 4th, 2007, in a Beirut Mosque with the local Sheikh (Imam) after the prayer.

Note: the conversation and logic described below can also apply to any Lebanese sect or community.

Me: Samahet el Sheikh, what were those hidden allusions to the Shiaas near the end of your sermon today? What is this about?

Sheikh: That phrase can be interpreted in various ways. It doesn’t necessarily point to the Shiaas.

Me: With all due respect, Sheikhna, I think it does. Any man will interpret it the same way I did, and I think it was intentional from your part. Anyway, this is not the first time I hear this kind of talk. Can you please tell me what is going on?

Sheikh: Where are you from?

Me: Beirut, Sheikh, not far from here, but I live in Switzerland. I’m here on vacation.

Sheikh: Didn’t you hear about what’s happening here? The threats against our community, the provocations in Basta, Tarik el Jdide, our very streets and neighbourhoods, the tearing of pictures and flags, the insults against our people and leaders.

Me: But there have been provocations from both sides, Sheikh…

Sheikh: Of course, but who started? We never openly insulted their leaders, they started first. We never started a war with Israel, they did. We did not threaten to take the country over, they did. More dangerously, we respect the foundations of this country, we don’t have a private army, do not claim ourselves to be “Divine”, and we do not follow a warrior’s agenda which doesn’t take into consideration the others in this land…

Me: I’m wondering if this can justify the arousal of sectarian feelings between them and us.

Sheikh: This is not about religion. We tried everything; talks, dialogue… but it has lead to nothing. They took the decision of going to the streets, have invaded our neighbourhoods, and ultimately, they and their allies want to minimize our role in this country by taking over the Prime Ministry. What do you expect us to do, sit silently and watch, or regroup as a community? Yes, it is sectarian but this is the only way we can react.

Me: How come this is happening now? Are we importing the Iraqi conflict into our land?

Sheikh: Ask them (Hezbollah). Do you think we want this? Don’t you think we’d rather live normally? But can we stay passive when all the others (Lebanese) have united around their leaders and are claiming their part of the country?

Moreover, how can we stay silent when they tell us that we are traitors, Zionists? Zionists, yes, we who have always stood by their side, Hariri included, taking sides with the Resistance and defending it internally and externally.

But after Hariri’s death and their (Hezbollah’s) position with the Syrians against the international tribunal, and their Iranian support, everything has taken a new turn.

Me: Where is this all going?

Sheikh: Again, ask Hezbollah. Where do they want to take the country? Why are they standing by Assad, who is against us? Why have they started the July war? Why are they against the (international) tribunal?

We told them (Hezbollah), we even wrote them letters saying: don't go to the street, don't do it, because you will force us to retaliate (by uniting against you). But they didn't listen.
They and their allies want to topple the Prime Minister, but we will never allow that, even if we don't like him. They didn’t give us another choice!

Will they accept if we topple Berri or Lahoud? The Maronites shut their mouths when the Patriarch warned that the Presidency is a red line, and all the Christians obliged, even though they hated Lahoud. Why then will we, the Sunnis, accept what no other community accepts?

Do you know what Siniora’s toppling will mean for future generations? It will mean that any future Prime Minister is liable to be toppled by another community, simply by demonstrating and camping downtown. It will create a dangerous precedent.

Well, we can’t accept that, whatever the cost. If they succeed, this means we lost. And we cannot lose. This is the rule of the game in this country and unless it changes, we have to play by the rules."

The vacation's over

2007-01-20T18:58:00.000+01:00

I wrote this on June 12th, 2004 on the eve of my departure from Beirut to Paris where I was residing at the time. It still applies today.

Here I am, doing that "thing" again : preparing to leave Lebanon back to Europe. I've packed my bag, leaving the usual few things aside till the last moment. I've said my last goodbyes to my grandmother and done my last phone call. I've promised the friends I couldn't see this time that I'll make up to them next time, while other friends are coming to pick me up for a last evening in Beirut. Not something huge and noisy; I actually like my last evening in Beirut to be a quiet one, a "normal" one just as if I was living here, with a final stop along with my best friend at Uncle Deek's for one last sizzling hot tea, facing the sea. And just like everytime, I wonder if that sea, the smell of the wind, the shadows of the mountains in the darkness of the sky, the sweet tea, the city lights and the people I see wandering by would feel the same if I was actually living in Beirut.

And just like everytime, it occurs to me that coming and leaving have become a habit.

Lebanon is my home, but my home is also somewhere else. Lebanon is where my heart resides, but elsewhere is also where I work, love, have friends, earn money, and live. I also belong, somehow, to this other land that is not Lebanon. And I think that most Lebanese expatriates, like me, are a bit schizophrenic. Some of us go back to Lebanon on average 2 to 3 times per year, like I do. Others go back 10 times per year, some once every 2 years or so. And yet for most if not all of us, home is Lebanon and elsewhere, at the same time. As soon as we get out of Beirut's airport, it's like we never left. And as the time for going back to our adoptive countries approaches, we take on our "leaving habits", such as the ones I described further up.

All frequent travellers have their habits (my favourites are expresso, reading the local newspapers and people watching). But frequent travellers usually use the word "leave" to head back home. We, the Lebanese, at least my generation who has left in the last 10 years hoping to come back one day, leave Lebanon to head home, and leave home to head to Lebanon. We are stuck in-between, and sometimes when we think about it, it gets tiring.

In fact, we never really leave Lebanon. We live with an idea, some vague hope, however unattainable and distant it might be, however strong are our ties to our other homes, businesses and countries of adoption : that the real home, where we all at least once dream of living, is this tiny land sandwiched between mountain and sea, between war and peace, between love and hate. This land which arouses passions, hopes and deceptions, where we acquire the habit of leaving, and which we continue to call Home.

Moi, Libanais, Musulman Sunnite...

2007-01-05T09:25:00.001+01:00

Article paru dans l'Orient Le Jour du Mardi 21 Novembre 2006

Je suis libanais, musulman sunnite, j’ai 30 ans, et je vis à Genève. Auparavant, je vivais à Paris. Et avant Paris, je vivais à Beyrouth où je suis né en pleine guerre.
J’ai quitté le Liban il y a sept ans, en temps de paix mais de morosité économique, pensant revenir pour contribuer à la reprise et vivre auprès des miens. Je suis donc parti, fidèle à la plus libanaise des traditions ; j’ai vu le monde sous ses diverses formes et je m’y suis fait ma place. Mais je ne suis pas rentré, bien que l’envie m’en consume.

Et je ne suis pas seul. Nous sommes des milliers de jeunes expatriés à vivre la même dichotomie entre nos terres d’accueil et notre patrie. Partout, nous nous posons les mêmes questions : le faut-il, quand, à quel prix rentrer ? On y croyait, après le 14 mars 2005 et malgré le tumulte qui s’en suivit. Mais voilà qu’à présent, malgré toute la bonne volonté du monde, on a du mal à y croire. Moins à cause de la dernière guerre, qu’à cause de l’incertitude face à la haine qui déchire le Liban.

Pourquoi ai-je mentionné ma religion au début ? Parce que pour la première fois de ma vie et contrairement à mes valeurs, je parle en tant que membre d’une des tribus du Liban. Et parce que j’ai honte du Liban d’aujourd’hui, un amas grotesque de peuplades saisies de frénésie. Et pourtant, j’insiste à parler en tant que tel, parce que je veux montrer que lorsqu’il s’agit d’immigration et de désespoir, on est tous dans le même panier.

Pourquoi musulman sunnite ? Parce que je ne l’ai pas choisi. Mais je le suis, je le vis et c’est mon droit. Beaucoup de mes amis sont chrétiens, et ça ne fait pas de moi un traître ni un faux musulman ; eux non plus d’ailleurs. Je ne suis pas non plus présentement vendu aux Américains, tout comme mes parents en leur temps n’étaient pas vendus aux Syriens ou à la « nation arabe », cette chimère qui a tellement fait trembler ou ému leurs compatriotes qu’ils ont mutuellement déclenché la guerre qui m’a vu naître, ainsi que mes compagnons libanais de l’étranger, de toutes confessions. Et j’ai l’impression que cette histoire se répète encore, sous une autre tournure cette fois, avec la même passion et toujours en vain.

Jusqu’à quand ? Jusqu’à quand va-t-on se battre, s’unir puis se désunir ? N’est-il pas temps de réaliser que nos ennuis viennent de nous en premier, avant les autres ? D’admettre que ce sont nos vieilles phobies, encastrées jusque dans notre Constitution, qui nous ont permis d’être tant de fois conquis, et qu’un tel pays n’aura jamais de place respectable au sein des nations ?

Moi, Libanais, musulman sunnite, je n’ai pas peur des autres. Je n’ai envie d’exterminer personne, et les autres Libanais ne devraient pas avoir peur de moi, cette peur dont l’unique exutoire semble être devenu synonyme de soi-disant patriotisme, de manifestations et de menaces sanglantes à n’en plus finir.

Ce pays n’appartient à personne en particulier, ce pays est notre terre à tous. Ce n’est qu’en nous unissant, dans le respect de nos différences, sans vouloir marcher les uns sur les autres, que nous pourrons aspirer à la paix intérieure,sans laquelle nous ne pouvons faire face aux dangers externes. Laissons tomber cette phobie de la prise de pouvoir, dans un si petit pays aux communautés si nombreuses.

À quoi nous sert ce pouvoir si nous n’y trouvons de dignité autre que celle, chimérique, d’appartenance à une communauté soi-disant puissante mais aigrie ? Et à quoi sert cette dignité qui nous pousse à la mendicité aux portes des consulats, ou devant les donateurs internationaux ?

Regardons les choses en face : au Liban il n’y a jamais ni vainqueur ni vaincu, ni faible ni puissant. Des hommes et des femmes, oui, mais des communautés, non, ou bien alors le temps de préparer la prochaine guerre. Et devant la guerre, nous sommes tous égaux. Ayons confiance les uns dans les autres, mettons-nous d’accord et aspirons à la décence, à la paix, à un avenir meilleur. Différents certes, mais rassemblés. Et ça, c’est un citoyen musulman sunnite qui le dit.

J’aurais voulu parler en tant qu’homme, mais au Liban, cela ne semble pas être possible. Soit donc, et à bon entendeur salut.