ON LEBANON
Shortly after arriving here, about six months ago, I began making plans to visit Lebanon; my planning was inauspicious, as the weekend I chose for my visit coincided with the beginning of Israeli bombing of the country. I finally did get there one month after the end of the bombing, coinciding with the Hizbullah rally to celebrate the war's unexpected result. Since then I had been hoping to return and had agreed with a friend on a visit to coincide with Thanksgiving. As it happens the opposition groups (Hizbullah, Amal, Free Patriotic Movement) were planning mass protests over that weekend, though that alone did not seem like reason enough to postpone the trip, as the protests were to be peaceful. Things were complicated when last Tuesday, as we all know by now, Lebanese minister of industry Pierre Gemayel was shot to death in broad daylight.
So on Tuesday evening television newscasts were flooded with Lebanese sectarian bosses and political analysts and marginal politicians giving their take on the killing. For obvious reasons, both Walid Jumblatt and Saad Hariri were quick to point the finger at Syria. Others, such as the father of the deceased, declined to speculate and instead called for reflection, mourning, and calm. Others blamed Israel and the United States. Others still blamed the security services and suspected it was an inside job.
That evening I watched an al-Jazeera show whose anchor implied that those who gained most politically from the deed were by implication the perpetrators. The question is valid but the implication is faulty. In my mind, I made the same mistake, initially going with the conspiratorial hypothesis: since the
greatest beneficiaries of this event were the weakend "March 14" alliance members (those who rode into power on the backs of anti-Syrian protests and whose main "bosses" now are Hariri, Jumblatt, and Jeajea/Gemayel) , then they must have planned it. So, I figured, a rogue element within that movement sacrificed Gemayel Jr. for the sake of the movement. But although this is more believable than Russian government claims about who poisoned their ex-spy in Britain, it is irresponsible. Facts should determine culpability, not faulty logic.
Some do not agree that the March 14 movement benefited most from this assassination. For them, the "pro-Syrians" were the main benefactors. The logic is as follows: the main issue at present is the Hariri international tribunal, which the government (currently in March 14 hands) supports; the killing is a means of blocking the tribunal both by giving a warning signal to those who support it and by putting the government on the brink of collapse (after the resignation of Hizbullah and Amal ministers, the majority was left with 16 of 22 ministers, now down to 15. If one more disappears the 2/3 majority will be gone, which I guess means the government falls). The majority movement now has delusions of strength, and is about to be pushed into a confrontation from which no one will benefit.
In a recent
editorial, the New York Times, notes that although it is too early to tell who is behind the murders, there are indications of who the culprit was, and that this likely culprit (Syria) should be told that "it will pay a high price" if it was behind the murders, while Hizbullah should be warned against further trying to grab power "through further violence or intimidation."
The idea, then, is to threaten your number one suspect with reprisals before proofs are actually furnished. In this case, everyone should be threatening everyone with reprisals, since everyone is blaming everyone. But the Times specifically implies that the U.S. and the international community (though the passive voice is used) should make the threats, since it may be a bit ridiculous for Walid Jumblatt to threaten Syria with reprisals, right? But as we know the U.S. and the international community are usually at odds when it comes to the Middle East (and always at odds when there is any move to censor Israel – cf. Bait Hanoun). So the U.S. should say to Syria: "If you were behind this, there will be reprisals."
As for Hizbullah, it seems to me they were trying to grab power through dialogue, and it is said they were doing so mainly to have enough of a representation to block the setting up of the tribunal, though Hizbullah denies being against the tribunal and says it simply wants proportional power. The government was not willing to give in to Hizbullah's request. So Hizbullah is using dialogue coupled with intimidation, that is, the threat of taking to the streets. Yet is taking to the streets not a democratic right? Surely it is not wise to do so given the current political climate, and it will likely engender violence. But how exactly are you going to "warn" them not to do this? Through violence or intimidation? Or, as some March 14 members are suggesting, to organize similar protests to try to force Lahoud to resign.
You know a situation is rotting when everyone is wrong. Everyone is threatening everyone, and countering threats with more threats. No one wants to blink. Unfortunately, if anyone is bluffing right now it seems to be the U.S. and Israel, who after this summer cannot simply dictate what goes on in this region. And if something is not done soon (can anything be done?), the escalating "cold war" between the U.S./Israel and Iran will blow up in the faces of innocent Lebanese.
In Lebanon particularly, this is what I take the situation to be: the majority (14 March movement, not a popular majority but a parliamentary one) claims the opposition is involved in covering up assassinations and violence, proven by its rejection of the Hariri tribunal to try the suspects. If they are clean, they should accept the tribunal, and their rejection proves they are not. The opposition, I think, claims the majority is not a popular majority and thus democratically illegitimate, and it should either share power more equitably through a national unity government or agree to new elections. The problem, of course, is that negotiations broke down once already (leading to the opposition ministers' resignations) and are unlikely to yield fruits now. So the opposition's idea now is to move on to the purgatory that separates negotiations from violent conflict, that is, popular protests. If this does not bring the government down and force new elections, then the idea is that the majority will be forced to choose between returning to negotiations (and making concessions) or opting for violence as the means for resolving the conflict. Either way, it is obvious that the opposition sees itself as the stronger party. And as we know from experience it is the stronger party that takes on the role of the bully.
None of this was on my mind as I hopped into a taxi on Thursday afternoon, headed for Beirut. Rather I was wondering, should I be doing this? I did, though, have a different feeling than when I went last time: this time it was the Syrians that were seen as the aggressors, not the American and Israelis. As I left Damascus large crowds of March 14 supporters were gathering in Beirut to barter with the afterlife: bury one of its figures in exchange for the revival of its popular base. Its true popular base, of course, is much slimmer than those who swept them into power during the anti-Syrian protests. Much of its true base, I think, are the diehard anti-Syrians.
Fortunately for Syrian taxis, it is Lebanese taxis that plow the cross-border route on Thursdays. There was one Syrian guy in my taxi who was married to a Lebanese woman. There had already been some violence against Syrians living in Lebanon the day before, and this guy seemed kind of nervous. He chain smoked cheap Syrian cigarettes (bad choice for more than one reason) and kept asking the driver for confirmation that people would not be so ignorant as to take their anger out on Syrians civilians (he kept stressing that he was a civilian). When we got to the Syrian exit point, one of the officials told the Syrian not to go. He stayed on, but now rather than asking every five minutes if it would be dangerous for him he did so every two minutes. Finally, an older Lebanese woman sitting in the front turned around and asked: "Are you scared or something?" The man took a drag from his cigarette: "No, of course not," he answered nervously and unconvincingly. After that he stopped asking if it was safe to go.
The streets in Lebanon were relatively empty. When I went to Lebanon last time pictures of Nasrallah were everywhere. This time, the country was plastered with different billboards showing the image of victims of assassinations and assassination attempts. They had been put up the previous day, it seemed, and on them was written, in Arabic, "we will not forget." We got into Beirut as the sun was going down. The Syrian man got off in the middle of the highway (first the taxi driver strangely tried to drop him off right in front of some obviously sensitive government building, but then they realized it may not be the best place for a Syrian to cross the highway, and so they got back in the car and the Syrian got dropped off a couple hundred meters ahead). I was the last to get off, and the cab driver tried to intimidate me into overpaying. It was annoying, since I was kind of nervous anyhow. Eventually I met up with my friend, who lives in the Shia' part of town. Their house had been damaged by the Israeli bombing, and their garden had been littered with cluster bomb clusters (if you want to experience deep sadness and anger at the same time read about Israeli use of cluster bombs in Lebanon).
After a nice dinner we drove around the city a bit. The streets were eerily empty. As we were driving, my friend's brother called on the phone and told us to get off the streets and go home right away, and to avoid the main road. Ooops. As we approached their house we saw clusters of kids defiantly standing on the street, looking restless. The highway from the border to Lebanon had been dotted with soldiers and tanks, but here there was no government presence at all. My friend asked a kid what was going on, and he said that the youth was angry with some of the things that had been said at the funeral gathering earlier that day, that the kids were there too show their disapproval, and that another group of Amal sympathizers were blocking the airport highway. From the safety of my friend's house we saw kids walking and driving by in cars and scooters, honking and carrying Hizbullah flags, heading toward the area where others were gathered (the airport road group was separate). Then things got quiet. A bit before midnight, on the news, we saw Hassan Nasrallah speaking on the Hizbullah TV station, asking the youth that had taken to the street to go home immediately and not make trouble.
It seems that for the most part the sectarian bosses are trying to be cautious. It is easy to forget how fragile Lebanon is. On my taxi back to Syria, someone was speculating whether the border with Syria would be closed. The one with Israel is, of course, closed already. A scary prospect now would be if people have given up on negotiations, and if the U.S. and Israel are arming Christian and Sunni militias (or government security forces that can turn into militias), to counter Iranian support for Hizbullah. The opposition protests are supposed to start next week. And no one seems to want to budge in the negotiations.
The same day that Gemayel was being buried Iraq continued to explode, with over 200 killed in Sadr city. And Palestine witnessed a grandmother whose house had been destroyed blow herself up in Gaza, to the seeming approval of her children. Iraqis and Palestinians in Gaza are literally living in hell right now. Unless something changes in Lebanon, we can add one more to that list.
The following day I returned to this oasis of calmness and stability called Syria. It is beyond belief that sandwiched between the chaos, actual and potential, Syria is as calm as it is. For that I am grateful.
ON STABILITYIf you ask people here how it is that Syria remains so calm and welcoming despite the regional tension, they reiterate the security and stability of their country, and will tell you it's because of people here, that people here reject violence and are inherently good-natured. And I agree that they are good-natured, but it is hard to believe that this alone is enough. Without a strong central government to lay down the law of the land, even the best natured people will occasionally want to take things into their own hands and be forced to resort to unsavory methods to reach their goals.
Last weekend I went down to the sprawling southern suburbs of Damascus, dusty narrow alleyways and boxy concrete houses built atop fertile agricultural land. Down there is Yarmouk, a former Palestinian refugee camp, and Saida Zeineb, an important Shi'a pilgrimage center (Hussein's sister Zeineb is said to be buried there) around which now live hundreds of thousands of Iraqis, if I'm not mistaken. One note on Iraqi refugees: many Syrians do not speak highly of them. They blame them for high rent prices, high vegetable prices, violence, and spreading AIDS.
I went to a neighborhood near here with a friend, whose friend worked in the municipality. We all met up and walked along the main neighborhood market street. Our friend who worked in the government lagged behind, stopping at every shop. Soon I found out what he was doing: all the shops put some of their wares on the street, where they compete for space with street vendors selling clothes, trinkets or vegetables from a cart. They cannot be on the street, he told us. So from store to store he went, telling people to put their stuff in the store and threatening to confiscate the goods if they didn't. One guy facetiously protested when told to take his plastic flowers from the sidewalk and put them in his shop. "They are flowers!" he said. At one point we were held up for a few minutes, as a group of tangerine vendors refused to move their carts. After a while I turned back and saw the poor guys scrunched into an alley with their tangerine carts, far from the eyes of any customer. Of course a few minutes after we walked by, everyone put all their stuff back on the street.
This was, of course, a small theater piece, meant to reinforce the tangle of connections that make up hits stable society. Power here, it seems, is interwoven in webs that would be impossible to untangle without breaking the whole web. Within my small neighborhood alone, I would imagine there are hierarchies and intrigues that I am oblivious to, which become even more complicated when interwoven with the next neighborhood over. These webs are the guts of a pyramid-shaped structure that eventually leads to the top. It is the guts of this pyramid that are impossible to untangle, and that are interwoven from so many different angles as to keep the pyramid structure fully stable.
Something funny happened at the university the other day. All university students, regardless of their field, are in the first year required to take a course on socialist nationalism. Being first-year courses they are done in large auditoriums with large groups of young, impressionable Syrians. Some people I know are auditing this course and one day, when the teacher didn't show up, they decided to go up to the podium and hold an informal talk on American culture. I kid you not. Some people found out about this, of course, and these students were told to never do that again. And they wondered what they had done wrong . . . It reminds me, as usual, of a Syrian social comedy TV series. In this case it was announced that there would be a total solar eclipse over Damascus. The authorities worried about large groups congregating to see the eclipse, so they decided to launch a campaign warning of the severe dangerous of exposure to an eclipse. For the good of the people they instituted a "voluntary state of emergency" throughout the city. Everyone, of course, stayed at home for the eclipse, with the curtains drawn. The episode ended noting something along the lines of the threat of the eclipse having not yet subsided.
All in all, things are somewhat worrying in this region. If anyone thinks that America's disastrous and irresponsible Middle East policy has stopped bearing poisoned fruits, they are mistaken. I get the feeling they are only now beginning to bloom. The birth pangs are over, and the new Middle East may be learning to walk. Worry? We should.
The name Mount Hermon refers to a series of snow-capped peaks you see in the top picture, shared between Syria, Israel and Lebanon (between Syria and Lebanon by the yellow line, between Syria and Israel by the left-most orange line). The highest peak, at the northeast edge of the mountains, is known in Syria as the Sheikh Mountain (Jebel al-Sheikh), its near year-round snowcap resembling a sheikh's white turban. The second patch of snow, to the southeast, is actually two spiky peaks which are controlled by Israel, as indicated by the orange line. On the west skirt of these peaks are the Shab'a farms.
The fertile plain of Syrian-controlled Jebel al-Sheikh
Directly behind the Syrian truck is the Israeli-controlled area of Mount Hermon
