A Good Day for Lebanon, Finally?
You’re looking at Palestinians in Gaza as they cry out in joy and relief at official news of a ceasefire. They express the joy and relief of so many of us Levantines after a nightmarish year.
On the evening of October 31, 1992, a bygone era of a bygone Lebanon, a mad spectacle of fireworks overwhelmed the Lebanese skyscape. Rafiq Hariri, a rotund man with deep pockets and elephantine ambitions, had just ascended to the position of prime minister of a war-torn, mess of a country desperate for resurrection.
Hariri’s sister, Bahia, took the opportunity that day to announce to us Lebanese that “we can all sleep now on harir,” (silk); a take on her brother’s last name. True enough, as some of us very quickly surmised, the fireworks that lit up the night for what felt like endless hours were in fact Hariri’s announcement of his governance style: swagger, glitter, and pizzazz.

I was not a fan of the late pm. He insisted that the iniquitous pre-war order, made even more egregious by the disfigurements of the 15-year bloodshed, could be honed into a system that is at once somehow impervious to and wholly dependent on its deformities and contradictions. I thought the proposition preposterous and nakedly self-serving.
But Hariri had a grandiose vision and even more grandiose plans. You couldn’t blame the exhausted Lebanese across the divides, class among them, for seeing the heroic savior in the flawed man. Certainly for us in the elite’s universe, the enticements and temptations were of a magnitude never before available to our profligate appetites.
The prime minister and his supporters argued that his way was, in fact, Lebanon’s way. You simply couldn’t move the country forward, otherwise. His critics countered that societies cannot thrive on mountings debt, boundless consumption, petty politics, and rampant corruption.
Hariri, huge, with tendencies to grow ever bigger, and Lebanon, small, with tendencies to grow ever smaller, were a mismatch, and mismatches are by their very nature destined to suffer terrible endings. So it was –– for both man and country. Tragically!
When I watched General Joseph Aoun, our newly elected president, deliver his speech to parliament after its 91 votes gave him his victory, two essential constants reminded me of that October day 33 years ago. We are still a war-torn, mess of a country even more desperate for resurrection. And we are a people ever more yearning for a savior.

But Aoun is not Hariri. The positions are different, the times are different, and so are the two characters.
What I know of the general is what I have consistently heard and read. One quality speaks loudly for him: he is a reserved, clean man with a decided aversion to glitter and pizzazz. He is also reportedly very stubborn, an attribute that may well serve or hinder him in his mission.
As I watched him give his speech, I mused to myself: such bold promises by such a reticent soldier! To declare that there will be an end to corruption and clientelism, a crackdown on money laundering, drug trafficking, and smuggling; serious investment in a strong state, a robust army, and an independent judiciary, is essentially to declare a kind of revolution. Of course, the sad reality is that by simply affirming that the laws of the country will be uniformly and transparently enforced, the president was basically declaring war on a lawless establishment.
But the president doesn’t have legislative and executive sway. Those on whom he has to depend to legislate and execute his pledges are those he has targeted in his speech, along with their numerous partners and enablers everywhere in the public and private spheres. Unless he has serious, sustained, internal and external leverage over them, or they suddenly awaken to the destructiveness of their wayward ways and yield, they will move very quickly to arrest his momentum and subvert his agenda.
Then on January 13 came the surprise: Nawaf Salam, a distinguished jurist and the International Court of Justice’s (ICJ) recently elected president, won the parliamentary race for prime minister.

If indeed the president made his promises in earnest, then his chances of success would appear to have markedly improved. Salam is a man of integrity, deep thought and equally deep knowledge of the intricacies of Lebanon’s history, laws, and politics. He comes to the position as the son of a prominent Beiruti family with his own long record of political engagement and diplomatic experience. He commands respect and enjoys credibility across significant sections of society.
Assuming Aoun and Salam will work together as a team to address a national crisis of existential proportions and the urgent need to rebuild people’s lives in the aftermath of a ferocious war, in their favor are considerable odds: sizable popular support; clout inside the military and security apparatus; a constellation of international and regional powers, each in their own capacity apparently keen to offer financial and political support; and major actors, like Iran, possibly inclined to compromise.
We can also reasonably hope that Syria, for decades a disruptive force in Lebanese politics, will be focused inward for a very long time to come.
Against them are Lebanon’s time-honored antagonists: a fiendish Israeli neighbor whose designs in the Levant and beyond, if not checked, are potentially cataclysmic; a tight-knit sectarian and business mafia; envious adversaries of the same sects for whom the president and prime minister’s success is their defeat.
We can also reasonably worry that Syria, whose politics always looms large over ours, could descend into chaos and strife.
Challenging as well for Salam and Aoun is Hezbollah’s own displeasure. The party wanted for the two positions allies with the usual unwavering deference. It is revealing that, at a moment of great peril for Lebanon, Hezbollah and its defenders are advocating for a thoroughly rotten status quo that has brought ruin upon us all. Ruin, I should add, to the resistance movement itself, which over the decades became increasingly more sullied the deeper it sank into Lebanon’s political morass.
The party’s objections to Salam are particularly curious. Neither the man’s credentials, nor his stand on Palestine, nor his probity are questioned, only that he is supposedly Saudi Arabia and American’s man. As evidenced, one has to assume, by his refusal to take orders––from Hezbollah itself. Because nothing in Salam’s long CV recommends him as any country’s toady.
The question becomes then: what has recommended to Hezbollah its own contenders, all leading members of the reigning cabal? Certainly not their impressive qualifications and impeccable reputations.
This is a time for thoughtful reflection as much as it is for urgent action. It therefore behooves the resistance, whose tenacious struggle against Israel remains the single most important accomplishment that recommends it to many Lebanese, to re-examine the presence it wants to have in politics and the values and ideals it wants to espouse in this role.
After all the sacrifice of the past year, especially by its own community, it seems elementary to Hezbollah’s legitimacy that it cannot be outraged at the injustice done to Palestinians and continue to collude in the injustices done to us Lebanese, notwithstanding the stark differences between the two misdeeds.
Lebanon is as complicated as we its people want it to be. We are part authors of this sorry tale we have been living since we became a modern state. We had agency, we made choices, ignored our sages’ warnings, laughed away their wise counsel, committed sins, made strategic mistakes, let loose our private greed at the expense of the public good, heedlessly indulged our petty sectarianisms, and killed one another time and again.
We are today at the end of our tether, barely hanging on by a couple of very tattered threads. We have the opportunity to attempt a sober, patient rescue of a body politic riddled with gaping and, unless remedied, fatal wounds.
Have we learned our lesson? Sooner than we think, we will have our answer.
****
On Another Note
“It is the responsibility of intellectuals to speak the truth and to expose lies.” The famous words are, of course, Noam Chomsky’s.
The Nation reviews, with much satisfaction, Chomsky’s latest book, The Myth of American Idealism: How U.S Foreign Policy Endangers the World, coauthored with Nathan Robinson, the editor of Current Affairs.
To many of us, especially on this side of the shore, Chomsky’s theme is intimately familiar:
Like almost all of Chomsky’s books, [this one] fulfills the intellectual’s responsibility to speak the truth and to expose lies—including what Chomsky considers the biggest falsehood of them all: Americans’ naïve belief that their country is “committed to promoting democracy and human rights” around the world. This is the “myth of American idealism” referenced in the book’s title, and it is a myth that Chomsky and Robinson dismantle piece by piece.