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On this blog, I’ve repeatedly outlined why the Special Tribunal for Lebanon (STL), which the U.N. Security Council established under its Chapter VII authority, is legally binding in terms of international law and Lebanese constitutional law. As such, efforts to impede the STL’s progress may succeed in slowing down the investigative and trial processes, but cannot but the genie back in the bottle.

For a similar take on things, please read this short report by The Daily Star-Lebanon, which asked legal experts to weigh in on the question. In essence, the consensus reflects what I’ve been arguing here.

In 2005, millions of Lebanese marched for their freedom. The streets of Beirut captured the world’s attention and seemed likely to trigger a wave of Arab democratization and reform. But despite glimmers of hope in Iraq, Lebanon, and Syria, the much-lauded “Arab Spring” soon fizzled out.

In some countries, homegrown activism was absent or fell short of a critical mass. In other places, foreign support was inadequate or insincere. Even the Bush Administration, which publicly adhered to a “freedom agenda,” could ill-afford widespread democracy promotion. After all, authoritarian regimes of one stripe or another governed – and still govern – strong American allies like Saudi Arabia, Egypt, and Jordan. In not-so-friendly countries like Syria or Libya, fears of an Islamist wave or civil strife kept Western democracy promotion at bay.

Now, six years after that fleeting spring, is the “Arab Summer” here?

In the span of a few weeks, protests have unfolded across the Arab world. In Tunisia, a string of protests toppled a decades-old regime, forced President Ben Ali to flee the country, and triggered military measures to re-impose order. In Egypt, a bombing of a Coptic Christian church sparked riots that have exacerbated Christian-Muslim and state-society tensions. After months of turmoil, thousands of Egyptians have now begun demonstrating in the heart of Cairo, presenting the Mubarak regime with the most serious and organized threat to its rule in years.

In Jordan, protests over food prices form part of a growing pattern of clashes. Kuwait’s crisis arose when security forces attacked on a group of academics and lawmakers. While the Jordanian government managed to quell unrest, and while Kuwait silenced dissent by announcing that it would distribute $4 billion to its citizens, dissenters may find their voice if regimes across the region continue to crumble.

These events may appear different on the surface, but their underlying causes are the same. Arabs are increasingly dissatisfied with oppressive regimes that have failed to deliver economic growth, political representation, or social freedom. In a sense, these protests are bound by fortune too. Each success or failure in a given Arab capital, and every image or word that flickers on Al-Jazeera or Twitter, affects the prospects of change elsewhere. 

Of course, the “Revolutions” of 2005 and the “revolts” of 2011 differ significantly. First, democracy advocates – in Washington and in Arab capitals – have yet to brand, promote, and support the latest waves of dissent. In contrast, for instance, the “Cedar Revolution” of 2005 emerged under polished steering and marketing, which harnessed the Lebanese people’s free-minded impulses, made the case for international support, and ultimately secured change.

Second, the hope of 2005 has given way to rage. During the “Arab Spring,” millions of Lebanese marched engaged in peaceful protests against Syrian occupation. In nearby Damascus, academics and other dissidents issued a declaration calling for democratic reform in Syria itself. Although Lebanon’s fortunes have soured, Syrian dissidents continue to languish behind bars, and Iraq’s future remains unknown, the hope of 2005 was real.

This time, protesters are venting their anger. Left unharnessed, such anger – and the violence it engenders – may reinforce fears of instability that have long driven Western support for decrepit Arab regimes. If so, the prospects of change will suffer. Indeed, aside from the stunning developments in Tunisia, the regional status quo has survived (for now).

The “Twitter effect” is another difference. Social media tools have had a paradoxical impact thus far. On the one hand, demonstrators have used social media to communicate with each other and with the broader world. On the other hand, social media have diffused leadership of these potential movements. Without direction, prospective revolutions could die out, run into more organized state security apparatuses, or descend into mayhem.

Despite these cautions, the “Arab Summer” offers a second chance. Arabs must stop blaming oppressive rulers or American foreign policy for their problems. By taking ownership of their futures, Arabs can challenge their regimes and present the U.S. with a moment of choice.

If that moment comes, the U.S. must not fall on the wrong side of history. The Obama Administration should truly embrace the message it has tried to impart on friends and foes alike. False choices – between bread and freedom; between justice and stability; between democracy and security – lead only to empty stomachs and shackled hands.

March 14 partisans across the country, particularly Sunni supporters of former Lebanese Prime Minister Saad Hariri, have been protesting what they believe is a political coup by Hizbullah. Earlier today, Najib Mikati, a billionaire Sunni politician from the northern city of Tripoli, secured enough votes to head Lebanon’s  next government. Although Mikati had emerged as the Hizbullah-led March 8 coalition’s candidate for the premiership, he has denied being “Hizbullah’s man.”

In any case, the March 14 coalition and its Western backers fear that a Hizbullah-controlled government, even under the guise of a “national-unity” cabinet, could distance or even isolate Lebanon from the West and from the Special Tribunal for Lebanon (STL), a U.N. judicial body established to investigate the assassination of former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafic Hariri and other Lebanese politicians and citizens.

March 14 has called for protests in support of Hariri and the STL. Meanwhile, Sunni law-makers have called for a “Day of Rage” across Lebanon. Protesters have assembled peacefully in some places, but have burned tires, closed roads, and fired shots in others. All in all, fears of Sunni reactions against yet another embarrassment of Hariri only complicate the future of a country already bracing itself for a Hizbullah reaction to the imminent publicization of an STL indictment.

Here are some pictures and videos of Lebanon’s “Day of Rage.”

This past weekend saw Lebanon’s political stand-off heat up. Lebanese Forces leader Samir Geagea and Hizbullah Secretary-General Hassan Nasrallah both laid out their respective camp’s positions (I’ll be reacting to these speeches later this week).

Druze chieftain Walid Jumblatt, who had until now vacillated between the March 14 and March 8 coalitions, finally threw in his lot with Hizbullah. Notwithstanding Jumblatt’s rather loose understanding of the word “conviction,” his latest gambit – to publicly announce his adherence to the Syrian line while allowing members of his bloc to formulate their own positions – is the latest consequence of the pressure Syria and Hizbullah have managed to exert on him since May 2008.

The most important development was Prime Minister Najib Mikati’s emergence as the March 8 candidate for the premiership. Mikati is the billionaire owner of a communications conglomerate that does business across the developing world, and has often presented himself as a compromise candidate for the premiership. In 2005, when popular protests led to former Prime Minister Omar Karami’s resignation, Mikati stepped in and ably led a caretaker cabinet that oversaw Lebanon’s first free and fair elections in some thirty years (for those wondering, the elections of 1992, 1996, and 2000 took place under Syrian occupation, political tutelage, and blatant “electioneering”).

Mikati is both accomplished and capable. This is precisely why his candidacy could be dangerous from March 14′s point of view. As once source put it, Mikati “could lend some semblence of credibility to [March 8's] so-called agenda, which is clearly aimed at one thing: the Special Tribunal for Lebanon.”

To be sure, it is hard to imagine Mikati condeming the Tribunal outright. Yet, his acquiesence in the face of other condemnations could have the same effect. Much will depend on who controlls key portfolios – like the Justice and Interior ministries – and the overall composition of the cabinet, so it is difficult to envision how any future government will react when the Tribunal’s indictment goes public.

Even so, it is clear that the next prime minister will face renewed pressures to open the cabinet debate to issues like “false witnesses,” the STL-Lebanon treaty, and the Lebanese government’s cooperation with U.N. investigators. Without the security of a Hariri-led cabinet, March 14 exposes itself to the risk that Mikati could allow the cabinet to debate these issues. Similarly, thanks to Jumblatt’s gymnastics and President Michel Sleiman’s need to remain above the fray, March 14 cannot hope to outvote its adversaries in the cabinet.

There is also a communal element to these tensions. In 2005 and 2009, March 8 managed to secure the election of Amal Movement leader Nabih Berri as Speaker of Parliament by arguing, in part, that the Shiite post should go to an individual who represented that community’s sentiment. Many March 14 supporters, and Sunnis in particular, feel that should apply here. The vast majority of Lebanese Sunnis support Lebanese Prime Minister Saad Hariri in the same manner the vast majority of Lebanese Shiites support the Hizbullah-Amal alignment.

With that in mind, March 14′s supporters are understandably frustrated. ”Anti-Mikati protests” have erupted across the country (more accurately, these are pro-Hariri demonstrations). But if it is wrong for Hizbullah supporters to burn tires and block roads, what justifies these actions? Nothing.

Tire-burning and the practice of blocking roads are neither desireable nor useful. Impeding the day-to-day affairs of citizens is unlikely to exert any pressure on Hizbullah; this is the same organization that went to war in 2006, obstructed government in 2007, assaulted the capital in 2008, and toppled the cabinet just this month.

If these protests are mere expressions of anger, rather than a calculated (but futile) attempt to pressure Hizbullah, the dangers are even greater. Lebanon’s various “Streets” are already volatile, and have been on edge for about five years now. Sunni-Shiite tensions continue to simmer, and intra-Christian rivalries have not yet been put to rest. Constant provocations and responses will only edge the country closer to the precipice of renewed strife.

Admittedly, Lebanon does not live up to its liberal mythology. But, for all its warts, and despite periodic failures, coexistence among Lebanon’s communities reflects, and in turn promotes, a pluralism that is absent throughout much of the Middle East. Since the mid-19th century, when European intervention in Ottoman-era Mount Lebanon helped consolidate communalism, political pluralism has distinguished Lebanon from the rest of the region in three positive ways.

First, Lebanon benefits from a dynamism that is due, in part, to its people’s intimate contact with “the Other.” From cosmopolitan Beirut to the most insular of mountain villages, the Lebanese interact with, or are at least exposed to, other groups. This diversity manifests on street corners, in classrooms, in the workplace, and in the political arena – and helps breed cultural awareness, lateral thinking, and tact. Wired for the world, members of the far-flung Lebanese diaspora owe part of their success to this nurturing process. In turn, Lebanon benefits from its diaspora’s ideas, remittances, investments, and other initiatives, which offset the negative impact of “brain drain.”

Second, Lebanon has managed to avoid the authoritarianism that has plagued much of the Middle East. From Morocco to the Persian Gulf, theocracies, monarchies, hereditary presidencies, and military cabals have clung to power for decades. While not exactly a liberal bunch, Lebanon’s politicians, military leaders, and clerics must operate within a context that restricts their power. Because few Lebanese leaders have been able to cull together serious support outside of their communities, power has remained diffused.

Occasionally, a Lebanese leader manages to transcend the communal context. But those instances are both rare and fleeting. The vanished Imam Mousa al-Sadr, the assassinated president-elect Bashir Gemayel, the assassinated former Prime Minister Rafic Hariri, former General Michel Aoun, or Hizbullah Secretary-General Hassan Nasrallah have at one time or another emerged as political giants with cross-communal support. But, time and again, Lebanon’s system has met these figures head on, frustrating and inhibiting their ambitions (note that most of these leaders met, or are likely to meet, indecorous ends).

Clearly, the interplay of various leaders and groups has sometimes led to discord. Lebanon’s most recent government crisis, due to a Hizbullah-led withdrawal that owed much of its bite to Lebanon’s power-sharing system, is a stark reminder of the negative aspects of consociationalism. However, as Lebanese-American journalist Michael Young suggests “The Ghosts of Martyrs Square,” it may be better to live under the rule of “a forest of fathers,” than under the watch of a single “father” who holds all the strings.

Third, Lebanon’s state-society relations differ significantly from the regional norm. In one form or another, a culture of dissent prevails in the media, the academia, cafes, and the halls of power. By contrast, the state lurks almost everywhere else in the Arab world. Irrespective of the political inclinations or geostrategic relevance of their regimes, these states stifle expression, suppress political opposition, and constrain free thought.

So, while Lebanon falls short on liberalism, it is very much pluralistic. But the underpinnings of this pluralism are under attack. Coexistence in Lebanon is eroding.

During the Lebanese Civil War (1975-1991), a militia order gradually took root. As a consequence of prolonged hostilities, and a militia logic that demanded ethnic and ideological consolidation, Lebanon became more cantonized than it had been before the war.

Christians receded into an enclave stretching from East Beirut to northern Lebanon. The Druze took shelter in the heart of Mount Lebanon, where much of Lebanon’s contemporary system is derived from. Sunnis remained in their coastal dwellings or patches of the Bekaa Valley. Shiites clustered around Beirut, in the northern Bekaa Valley, and in South Lebanon.

Now, two decades after the civil war, coexistence faces new threats. First, poor and unbalanced economic development continues to drive people from Lebanon’s outer provinces towards Beirut, where communal neighborhoods and ghettos, rather than inter-mixed villages, are the norm.

Second, massive land transfers taking place throughout Lebanon also threaten coexistence. The pattern of transfers reflects and perpetuates Christian detachment and apathy, as well as aggressive and possibly orchestrated purchase of properties by parties, organizations, and individuals at above-market prices. True, natural demographic and economic forces are at play; but it is also clear that something else is happening.

Coexistence has long rested upon two geo-demographic pillars: a Christian presence in the far reaches Lebanon, such as the Hermel region and Lebanese border villages in the South; and a concurrent Muslim presence in what are now perceived to be Christian areas like Batroun, Jbeil, the Metn, and Zahle.

Migration – existing alongside the problem of large-scale land transfers – threatens to deepen Lebanon’s de facto segregation. While it may be unrealistic to expect an immediate reversal of civil war-era dislocations, it is not too late to raise awareness of more gradual, contemporary threats to coexistence.

Recently, MP Boutros Harb (Batroun, March 14) proposed a draft law proposal that would freeze the sale of land between Lebanon’s Christian and Muslim populations for a period of 15 years. Although such a law would probably survive constitutional scrutiny, the proposal suffers from three serious problems. 

First, the draft law reinforces the communal impulse, and thereby further subjugates individuals to categories that are, in a sense, rooted in accidents of birth. Second, the law offends social sensibilities, particularly as it has come off as a narrow reassertion of Christian interests in Lebanon. Third, the law is a temporary stop-gap measure that does not adequately address the social and economic reasons behind Lebanon’s cantonization. 

But, if Harb’s approach is too stringent, too broad, and off the mark, its faults must not obscure the need for action. “Federalism” was once a dirty word in Lebanon. Without striving towards (and sacrificing for) elusive unity, the partition or devolution of a country whose “founding myth” was tolerance may soon become inevitable.

The good folks over at Democracy Arsenal, a National Security Network blog, were kind enough to let me guest post a reaction piece to Lebanon’s most recent crisis of government. Please click here for the piece or see below for the text, which they have let me share here.

It’s the Optics, Stupid: Why and How Hizbullah is Spinning the Lebanese Government’s Collapse

After months of parading a purportedly imminent “Saudi-Syrian initiative” aimed at averting a crisis, Hizbullah and its allies have withdrawn from, and thus toppled, Lebanon’s government. Meanwhile, Lebanese Prime Minister Saad Hariri, having just concluded private talks with U.S. President Barack Obama, is en route to Paris for a meeting with French President Nicolas Sarkozy to shore up international support for the pro-Western March 14 coalition.

The parties’ inability to resolve their dispute over the Special Tribunal for Lebanon (STL) is not surprising. After all, any prospective deal would have involved core interests and first principles. It is unlikely, then, that Hizbullah’s toppling of the government was a reaction to a Hariri reversal.

To placate Hizbullah, March 14 would have had to denounce the anticipated STL indictment before its issuance, politically abort the STL. Over the past few months, however, various March 14 figures had made clear that a “resolution” could not come at the expense of justice.

For its part, Hizbullah would have had to accept the risk of an adverse indictment without total political cover from the Hariri camp. Not content with Hariri’s public withdrawal of past “political accusations” against Syria, nor with reassurances that March 14 would disentangle prospectively accused Hizbullah members from the party as a whole, Hizbullah had been pressing Hariri to denounce the indictment outright.

In another vein, these resignations do little to derail the STL (yet). The Tribunal operates under the Security Council’s Chapter VII authority, which means that international expertise, funds, and political cover will ensure progress over the long term. While cooperation from the Lebanese government would certainly ease things, particularly in guaranteeing security for U.N. investigators or assisting in evidence collection, the Tribunal can ultimately move forward with or without such cooperation.

Sources close to the situation have indicated that the “Saudi-Syrian initiative” centered on preparing the ground for “post-indictment stability in Lebanon” and emphasized that “at no point did March 14, or Hariri, consider trading stability for justice.” Having failed to compel Hariri to delegitimize the STL’s indictment, Hizbullah is trying to “up the ante in Lebanon’s long-running stand-off.”

But why now? It’s the optics.

Hizbullah has attributed the government’s collapse to last-minute American pressure on the French, Saudis, and March 14, rather than on irreconcilable differences that precluded a solution in the first place. With Hariri on his way to New York and Washington, Hizbullah issued a 24-hour ultimatum to Lebanese President Michel Sleiman, demanding an “extraordinary” cabinet session to deal with the issue of “false witnesses” that Hizbullah argues have tainted the Tribunal’s credibility.

Of course, the ultimatum was only a gambit. Hariri was not about to shun Saudi Arabia’s King Abdullah and Obama only to return to Beirut for a capitulation dressed up as a negotiation. And Sleiman had already made clear his unwillingness to force the issue.

As such, the ultimatum only heralded Hizbullah’s decision to withdraw from government. Having played up a professed “resolution,” the content of which remained unknown to a host of Lebanese leaders across the political spectrum, Hizbullah seized on a recent flurry of American, French, and Saudi activity to blame the U.S. and March 14 for its withdrawal.

But was it American pressure that derailed this mythical resolution? Or was it that the whims of Hizbullah, Hariri, or other Lebanese leaders, cannot dictate the operations of an internationally backed, financed, and staffed judicial body?

In any case, Hizbullah’s gambit has worked thus far. Despite strong diplomatic support from the U.S., France, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Turkey, March 14 has not effectively framed the early stages of this debate.

The next battle over the STL might unfold in the streets and squares of Beirut. To indicate that public opinion in Lebanon has shifted away from justice and towards stability, Hizbullah may mobilize hundreds of thousands of Lebanese against the STL. But March 14 may mobilize in response, particularly with the commemoration of Hariri’s assassination just weeks away, so the likely outcome of this street fight is unclear.

Alternatively, Lebanon’s leaders may confine their checkers game to the halls of power. Hizbullah and its allies might seek to form a government without Hariri. However, because Hariri is the dominant Sunni actor, much like Hizbullah is the dominant Shiite party, it will be difficult to form a government without him as king or kingmaker.

Either way, Lebanon’s controversies will play out as a battle for credibility. With that in mind, March 14 and its Western backers have fallen behind in the race to spin this latest collapse.

Another premium selection from 2010′s Christmas Conversations…

Family Member 1

“Fuck politics. Lebanon is good for arak and kibbeh nayyieh. [The Lebanese] have been killing each other for generations. We’ve had a damn crisis every ten years or so. But we’ve still got our kibbeh nayyieh, arak – and tabbouleh and hummus – and that’s just fine by me.”

(No comment, except to say that I agree in a roundabout way.)

“Hizbullah might have killed Hariri, but it is ridiculous to argue that the Syria did not play a central role. The Syrian regime or elements of the security services probably arrange d for the attack, with Iranian approval probably being needed for Hizbullah’s possible involvement.”

(It is my view that the Syrian regime orchestrated Hariri’s assassination. Over the past few months, speculation of Hizbullah’s involvement has grown. While the involvement of members of Hizbullah may not be surprising, given how Syria operates in Lebanon, there is no publicly available evidence pointing in either direction. Once the STL indictment comes out, it will be possible to assess possible liability.)

“Geagea won’t be president unless Lebanon goes to war again. Or unless there’s some sort of plan to move against Hizbullah. He might have a shot then, but there’s no way he’ll be a peacetime president anytime soon.”

(I agree that Geagea will have difficulty ascending to the presidency anytime soon. I understand why people think Geagea might find his way to the presidency if Lebanon returns to war, but I have never fully grasped how this would happen. Does this rest on resurrecting the Lebanese Forces militia? Would this be part of a “regional project” or would local actors take matters into their own hands and bank on drawing foreign support in?)

“Michel Aoun? The man was a nobody – a complete unknown – in 1988. [Former President and Phalange Party leader] Amine Gemayel put him in government to screw Geagea and the Lebanese Forces. People were just tired of the militia order, he was an army commander, and he confronted Syria. Let’s not make him out to be a hero.”

(Aoun was commander of the Lebanese Armed Forces in the mid-1980s. He was not really a “nobody,” but was definitely “unknown.” When Lebanese factions could not agree on electing a new President, Gemayel made Aoun the head of a caretaker cabinet at the eleventh hour. Gemayel and Geagea were engaged in a struggle over the Christian community, the Phalange party leadership, and the way forward in Lebanon. Aoun was a volatile actor whose presence alongside Geagea made for a combustible mix.)

“Gemayel and Aoun left Lebanon; Geagea went to jail; twenty years later, it’s like someone pressed play and we’re reliving the same bullshit! Here are you choices: a delusional general, a warlord, and a crusty old former president.”

(No comment.)

“Rafic Hariri might have thought he was bigger than Lebanon and [assassinated Lebanese journalist and MP] Gebran Tueni probably thought he was the voice of Lebanon. Both were too ambitious in their own way, so I was not too fond of either. But these men did not deserve to die the way they did.”

(No comment.)

“Hizbullah? Here’s the problem with Hizbullah: they’re working with the wrong model. Hizbullah criticizes people for looking to the West, as if that is some sort of tragedy, but Iran can’t even refine its own oil! And that’s what we’re supposed to strive towards? This is bigger than the fight with Israel ; Hizbullah is working with a social model that is doomed.”

(No comment.)

“Let me tell you something about Stuxnet [a computer virus rumored to have been unleashed by the U.S government]. Stuxnet attacked Siemens programmable logic controllers used for the Iranian nuclear program. Over 60% of computers targeted by the virus were in Iran. [The Iranians] don’t know who they’re playing with here. The U.S. has just given them a taste.”

(I did not know much about Stuxnet before this conversation. In reading up on the virus, I continue to be confused. The conversation also touched upon the recently-created U.S. Cyber Command. The consensus seemed to be that American cyber-warfare abilities would be too much for Iran to handle. The point seems plausible, but I have no idea whether this is actually true.)

“How many of you would send your kids to study or work in Iran or Syria? What about the U.S.? OK, why is that? America attracts the best, even from [Lebanon, Syria, Iran, and other Middle Eastern states].”

(No comment.)

“American decline? It is inevitable and might be underway already, but let’s not fool ourselves. We live in the here and now, and the U.S. will be a powerhouse for a long time to come! Let’s not rush to jump on the wrong wagon, OK?”

(In general terms, I think this is spot on. Of course, History surprises. The U.S. will face many internal constraints on its power, owing to its pluralistic political system and tenuous financial situation. But in general terms, the bases of American power – its economic, political, military, and cultural strength – are still robust and dynamic.)

“They’re all bastards. All of them.”

(It remains unclear who “they” are. What is clear, apparently, is that “they” are bastards… Don’t let them get you down.)

Family Member 1 has little patience for Iran and Syria – not because of political or religious inclinations, but because he/she “thinks in terms of economic, scientific, cultural, and military prowess.” This person emigrated from Lebanon to the U.S. in the late 1970s and returned in 2000. He/she sees a lot wrong with Western society, but thinks it far more dynamic than Iranian and Arab alternatives. Needless to say, Family Member 1 detests the “bastards” who run the show in Lebanon.

Take heart neo-feudal overlords, everybody’s a critic.

Christmas Eve rarely provides a respite from intense political debate in Lebanon. Indeed, with members of the family back in town, the holiday resembles a political brawl more than a religious celebration – or maybe, in the words of D.L. Hughley, “that’s just my house.”

For the past decade, members of my mother’s family, their family and friends, and a revolving group of guests have gathered in Achrafieh. The birth of Christ and Santa’s generosity are practically afterthoughts. Save for a few carols and token attendance of Mass, the family spends its time debating the intricate disputes (read: petulant behavior) of Lebanese political leaders. Since 2005, when the assassination of former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafic Hariri opened up the Lebanese political arena, a single conversation has literally stretched over five years continuous conversation the winter season. 

Conversation ranges between sophisticated and calm analyses to incendiary outbursts that would make a sailor blush. Discussion has revolved around intra-Christian divisions, the Sunni-Shiite divide, the broader regional configuration, America’s place in the world, the “Hizbullah question,” and the Special Tribunal for Lebanon (STL). This year, of course, WikiLeaks provided some fresh conversational points. Despite the available fodder, and underneath an ever-changing surface, the conversation has been the same for the past five years.

The next couple posts on Page Lebanon will provide some entertaining and controversial selections from 2010′s political brawl. Because I did not ask my family and friends if I could publicize their views, I’ll be concealing their identities (Julian Assange, take note). Comments are in italics…

 

“The Guest”

“Hizbullah killed Hariri. [Hariri] was part of some regional project – one that included naturalizing the [Palestinian refugees], but was also aimed at the Shiites across the Middle East. That’s why Hizbullah killed him, under orders from [Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah] Khamenei.”

(Here, the ever-present “regional project” rears its head. Of course, states have their policies, and do much to pursue their interests under the table, but it is also quite possible that Hariri was killed, quite simply, because the Syrian regime and its allies in Lebanon thought he had “grown too big for his britches.”)

“[Lebanese Forces leader] Samir Geagea will be Lebanon’s next president. What are you laughing at? He [Geagea] is in Saudi Arabia right now to begin resolving his issues with Syria. The Saudis, Egyptians, French, and Americans would rather have Geagea in Baabda [the seat of Lebanon's presidency].”

(I didn’t buy this argument. It’s not about morals, but politics – and Geagea has a credibility problem. Like many other war-time leaders, Geagea has his sins. The difference is that many Lebanese – including, importantly, members of his own Christian community – perceive his crimes to be more serious. As one observer remarked, “Geagea has ‘pulled the trigger’ himself, while others were more removed from the atrocities of war.” Perhaps these problems will grow smaller as Lebanon’s younger generation – one with few Civil War-era memories – becomes increasingly relevant. Perhaps Geagea will manage to capture much of the Christian vote in 2013. But the next president should take office in 2014, and this might be too soon for Geagea.)

“What do you mean Iranian and Syrian interests? Anthony, you’re a young man, listen to me… If the Americans want Geagea [as president], it will happen. Geagea’s history does not matter. Tell me where he’s made a mistake since 2005. The key is to begin laying the groundwork with Syria… What? No, that doesn’t suggest that Syria matters!”

(My point to “Guest” was that the past few years have demonstrated that Iran, Syria, Hizbullah, and pro-Syrian factions in Lebanon have the ability to frustrate the ambitions of the U.S. and the conservative Arab regimes. Aside from his credibility problem among many Lebanese, Geagea has been stridently (and often correctly) critical of Syria. As of yet, his post-2005 political revival has not involved rapprochement with Syria or pro-Syrian factions in Lebanon. Iran is no fan of Geagea either, particularly as it accuses the Lebanese Forces of kidnapping four of its diplomats in the 1980s. It is difficult to envision a regional consensus on someone like Geagea.)

“[Free Patriotic Movement leader] Michel Aoun is insane. Anyways, the man is finished.”

(I do believe Aoun reacted rashly in response to March 14′s early missteps in 2005, but this hyperbole is a little much for my taste. That said, I wonder about his political future. In contrast with 2005 and 2006, when Hizbullah was adjusting to a rapidly changing Lebanon and dealing with a war with Israel, the Party of God may not need as much “Christian cover.”)

“OK, maybe Syria matters. Hillou aaneh!”

(No comment.)

“The Americans should kill or “disappear” Assange to make an example of him.”

(No comment.)

“The region is in turmoil. It’s still early now, but wait and see how Sunnis and Shiites will turn against each other. The Sunnis are running to Turkey and the Shiites have been running to Iran. Just look at Iraq and Lebanon…”

(Over the past year or so, Turkey has begun to aggressively cultivate ties with the Arab world. Milking their dispute with Israel for all of its worth, the Turks have succeeded in carving out a renewed presence in the Arab Street. The Arab regimes might view Turkey as a possible counterweight against Shiite Iran, but are probably not thrilled with Ankara’s growing influence in the streets of Cairo, Damascus, and Beirut. Sunni and Shiite tensions continue to simmer, but for now a regional conflagration seems unlikely.)

“Imad Mughniyeh [a high-ranking Hizbullah commander killed in 2008] was not killed. The whole thing was cooked up to get the Mossad off his back.”

(And the Vatican, with Geagea’s help, killed Kennedy because he wasn’t Catholic enough.)

“The [Palestinian refugees] will be naturalized in Lebanon. Does anyone here really believe otherwise? Get over it!”

(In essence, I agree. It is difficult to imagine a Middle East resolution that does not involve accomodating the Palestinian presence in Lebanon. Palestinian refugees in Lebanon number between 200,000 and 500,000. For most, formative experiences occurred in Lebanon, not the Palestinian territories or Israel. Does this mean that Palestinian refugees will become Lebanese citizens? Not necessarily. But, despite the fears of Christians and Shiites, normalization is in order.)

Clearly, “Guest” was the party’s resident Conspiracy Brother. This older gentleman has seen the world twice-over, and always provides unique insight into the bigger picture. He thinks creatively and puts forward his own theories on quite a few things. But he’s also rather fond of behind-the-scenes drama, regional and local “projects,” and reducing complex issues into one-liners.

I’m sure your family, especially if you’re Middle Eastern, has one of these guys or gals.

I’m locked up for exams right now, and was not able to catch Hizbullah Secretary-General Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah’s speech. His views, and those of Hizbullah, on the STL are obviously important. Here’s the only English translation I could find; I assume it contains the entire speech.

A central part of post-apartheid South Africa’s journey in from the wilderness involved the creation of a “Truth and Reconciliation Commission,” a non-judicial body empowered to bear witness to and remedy the crimes of the preceding era. Because of Lebanon’s blanket amnesty measures, which have held strong despite less-than-equitable implementation, such an open process of reconciliation seems doubtful.

Perhaps that’s for the best considering that twenty years have passed since the Lebanese Civil War ended. But in the interest of transparency and, as a step towards a better tomorrow, it might be useful if each Lebanese person offered a list of confessions:

Here’s my list (for U.S. law enforcement officials, I only note that all these confessions relate to sentiments, actions, and omissions that occurred in the Republic of Lebanon.):

  1. I did not take a driving test to obtain my license;
  2. I have driven dangerously – too fast, too drunk, too angry – and have allowed others to do the same;
  3. I have (probably) insulted you in traffic;
  4. I have repeatedly taken the Lord’s name in vain, and have also invoked:
    • Your Lord’s name in vain;
    • Your “family;”
    • Your “village;”
    • “The road that leads to your village;”
    • “Your ancestors;”
    • “Your harem;”
    • “The person who gave you your driver’s license;”
    • And so on and so forth (I’m from Zahle, give me a break);
  5. I voted blank during all student elections, except one, at the American University of Beirut:
    • (Note 1: I still resent some of my friends’ blatant political jockeying.);
    • (Note 2: to the attractive young lady of my sophomore year, your smiles and sass did not actually convince me to vote for anyone. I did appreciate the attention, however, and thank you for that. Stay classy.);
  6. I occasionally enjoy electronic music (it took about 10 years in Beirut, but it’s happened);
  7. I have not visited my family as often as I should;
  8. I believe Hizbullah should be disarmed, and do not share its vision for Lebanon;
  9. I believe the Future Movement has botched things up time and again, and must learn to accept criticism of the late former Prime Minister Rafic Hariri and his son, current Prime Minister Saad Hariri;
  10. I believe Walid Jumblatt is a man of many regrets, but probably does not regret enough;
  11. I believe Lebanon’s various Christian parties are stuck in the past, have no present, and fear the future;
  12. I do not believe money should be spent on a “National Dialogue” that is nothing but a glorified sham;
  13. I do not believe that secularism is a cure for Lebanon, but I’m not sure there is one;
  14. I would kill to defend my country, village, family, and friends, but sometimes question whether I am willing to die;
  15. Women often annoy me;
  16. I fail to understand how Lebanese men wish to enjoy their twenties, but insist on marrying virgins;
  17. I unabashedly support the hummus war between Lebanon and Israel (food fights never killed anyone. That said, I think we can all agree that Lebanese hummus is better!);
  18. I do not like baba ghannoush and think falafel are overrated;
  19. I have never partied at BO18 (see Confession #7);
  20. I have judged Francophone Lebanese based on the mere hint of their voice;
  21. I never focused in French class, but still list French as a language on my resume;
  22. I learned Arabic by listening to Melhem Barakat, my father’s Zahle twang, and my mother’s refined Beiruti accent, which explains my failure to communicate with 99.7% of the general public;
  23. I love watching Don’t Mess With the Zohan;
  24. I do not like being called an “Arab,” but I do not know how to navigate, sail a boat, write without vowels, work with glass, or dye cloth. As such, “Phoenician” doesn’t exactly fit either. If you insist on a label, “Lebanese” will do just fine. Fill in the blanks as you see fit;
  25. I wonder, sometimes, whether Lebanon is worth the pain;

Put a pen to paper. I’m sure your list will have a lot in common with this one, but if not… “You have your Lebanon, and I have mine.”

Perhaps the Lebanese – and for that matter, their neighbors – have it right in bickering among themselves. After months of drought turned the already-parched Levant into a tinderbox, and not just in the figurative sense, Lebanese priests and sheikhs prayed for rain. Their counterparts in Israel and the Palestinian territories did the same.

In a sense, the religious leadership of the Christians, Muslims, and Jews of the region united for something more than their state-protected privileges. But that might have been a problem.

These well-intentioned people may have inadvertently caused another weather crisis of sorts. Having not seen a drop of rain in more than two months, to go on top of the Eastern Mediterranean’s typically lengthy summer dry spell, Lebanon has seen a torrent of rain, snow, sleet, and hail. Even Baalbeck – antiquity’s Heliopolis, the city of the sun – was covered in snow.

Maybe unity is overrated.

A good hot dog is an underrated delicacy. Every city worth the label should have at least a couple decent hot dog stands. In the middle of exam period, like many other law students, I’ve taken to studying late (to be frank, I’m not what one would call an early bird). This matters because Foggy Bottom shuts down at 6:00 pm. Aside from the overpriced Starbucks fare, a few hot dog stands are the only available places to eat after 2:00 a.m.

This weekend, I twice braved a minefield of drunk fratboys, scantily clad ladies, and the usual assortment of clubbers (read: Middle Easterners and South Asians), and decided to check out a rather famous hot dog stand near my law school. I still don’t know what the place is called, but it’s run by an Iranian man by the name of “Manoush” (I think).

On my second successive night there, “Manoush” asked my name. “Anthony,” I replied. Nice simple exchange – or so I thought.

As he prepared my three hot dogs – I will not be shamed by my eating habits – Manoush hit me with the classic, “so, where are you from?” Having spent considerable time in Lebanon, where the name-and-place game is a gateway into your entire family history, political orientation, and intellectual development, I immediately employed an “evasive verbal maneuver” and told Manoush that I was from “Florida,” and prayed he would think I was Italian.

Apparently, that wasn’t enough. “And your family? You look Middle Eastern or Latin.”

“Lebanese,” I said, keeping my eyes on the condiments and bracing myself for the inevitable, but always friendly, dialogue:

Manoush:“OH! Lebanon… BEAUTIFUL women,” said Manoush. “The men? Not so much…”

Me (laughing): “Yeah, thanks. Nose-jobs and implants help the talent pool along nicely. Persian women are lovely too.”

Manoush: “They are. But all I know is that Lebanese women are pretty – and they have wonderful eyes (at this point the fratboys, blissfully unaware of my desire to just eat a hot dog, voice their agreement). And Lebanese food is so delicious, and the weather is always nice!”

Me: “Yep. Can’t complain, except that floods and blizzards have followed a couple months of drought.”

Manoush (smiling): “But your politics are so frustrating. It’s a shame. What do you think about the situation?”

Me: ”Can’t have it all, right? Hopefully, it’ll calm down there and everywhere else in the region” (resisting the urge to yell, “Really, this coming from the Iranian?”)

Manoush: “The problem, I think, is that there are too many communities in such a small piece of real estate. Too many hostile neighbors. And too much outside interference.”

Me: “True, but…”

Manoush (clearly fishing): “… and they say there might be another war soon. Maybe a civil war over the case on the Prime Minister’s killing. What’s his name?”

Me: “Hariri… he was a former Prime Minister.”

Manoush: “Yes! Hariri… or maybe another war with Israel and the Hizbullah.”

Me (employing another evasive maneuver): “I don’t follow the politics there much [Editor: uh huh]. But since we’re talking, I have one question that’s always bothered me.”

Manoush: “Sure, but I have to get to other customers…”

Me: “Can you tell me why hot dogs come in packs of 10 and buns come in packs of 8?

Manoush (visibly amused):“No. That’ll be $9.00.”

In criticizing Hizbullah, it is still important to acknowledge that the “Party of God” is more than an extension of the Iranian Revolution or a cabal of Lebanese Shiite clerics and like-minded politicians. Hizbullah has deep roots in the contemporary psyche of Lebanese Shiites, represents the lion’s share of that community, and is the dominant actor in the Lebanese political arena today.

But Hizbullah is not the Shiite community; is certainly not Lebanon; and cannot claim special sufferings.

Has Hizbullah continued Imam Musa Sadr’s legacy and awoken Lebanon’s long-dormant and acquiescent Shiite community? Yes.

Has Hizbullah stepped into a vacuum created by years of state neglect and war to provide Lebanese Shiites with housing, schools, utilities, health care, and a powerful political narrative? Yes.

Has Hizbullah, more than any other party, organization, or state in recent Middle Eastern history, managed to stick it to Israel? Yes.

Has Hizbullah managed to electrify the region and cultivate a culture of resistance that threatens to shatter Israel’s sense of security? Yes.

Lebanon’s Shiites have legitimate gripes, especially regarding socio-economic development. The community has long been marginalized. Anyone disputing this fact is either a bigot or is living in fantasy. Yet, this marginalization is a product of Lebanon’s geography, not just its communal tradition, and has manifested elsewhere.

The fact is, Lebanese development, with all its warts, has historically focused on Beirut and its immediate environs. Rural Sunnis and Christians in Lebanon’s far North, the Bekaa, and Mount Lebanon itself – which is often mischaracterized as some sort of wealthy oasis – also face economic hardship, underdeveloped services, and foreign interference.

The Bekaa and Mount Lebanon are dotted with small, neglected villages home to Sunnis, Druze, and Christians alike. One only need to look at how fires and floods have burnt and battered Lebanon over the past few weeks to see that the impact of terrible roads, inadequate utilities, and poor public services is indiscriminate.

Even the capital is no different. The slums just south of Beirut – Hizbullah’s Dahiyeh stronghold – are only part of a dilapidated concrete jungle surrounding the revitalized city center. Run-down Sunni neighborhoods, Armenian ghettos, and shattered Christian shanties exist too.

Across the board, down-trodden areas and once-glorious neighborhoods continue to crumble, as an influx of foreign and expatriate money selectively rebuilds parts of the capital with little regard for the city’s Levantine and Ottoman heritage.

These internal frustrations, to say nothing of rampant corruption and bureaucratic inefficiency, frustrate citizens from all of Lebanon’s communities and areas.

Externally, these communities have suffered at the hands of Syria like the Shiites have suffered at the hands of Israel. From the late 1980s well into the earlier part of this decade, Syrian troops killed, tortured, and “disappeared” Lebanese citizens. On a personal note, Syrian troops shot members of my family some decades ago, and the post-war Syrian-Lebanese security apparatus beat and jailed some of my friends and acquaintances for protesting an ongoing occupation (in 2002, most notably, and at other points in time).

Would Hizbullah – or any other Lebanese parties or persons – welcome a resurrected Christian militia designated with the task of defending Lebanon’s eastern front? Would the Lebanese welcome a Sunni militia tasked with avenging the slaying of former Prime Minister Rafic Hariri?

Perhaps not.

If understanding the causes of Shiite marginalization does not justify decades of neglect, and understanding the plights of Lebanon’s other communities does not justify a revived militancy, then understanding the impetus behind Hizbullah’s formation surely does not justify the development of a state-within-a-state.

The Lebanese never learn.

For years, Hizbullah convinced many Lebanese that it would not turn its weapons against them. Shiites, Sunnis, Druze, and Christians all bought into that myth. Some believed wholeheartedly that Hizbullah would remain focused on Israel, while others saw no other choice but to acquiesce to realities on the ground. After all, the Lebanese had seemingly tired of conflict after decades of war and political bickering - and confronting Hizbullah would risk returning the country to a past that haunts almost every family in Lebanon.

Whether Hizbullah was genuine, or was simply catering to the fanciful views of others, does not matter. External motives - namely, acting as a forward base of Iran, protecting convergent Syrian-Iranian interests in Lebanon, and confronting Israel – drive Hizbullah’s actions. This is not to say that the party’s domestic goals, like increasing the Shiite voice in Lebanon’s system or providing social services and utilities, are irrelevant or even secondary; but only to stress that these goals are part of a broader project.

In that vein, the much-lauded “Lebanonization” of Hizbullah was driven by a Syrian regime intent on directing Lebanese political theater and an Iranian regime willing to accept that Lebanon’s demographic balance would not allow for a junior Islamic Republic on the Mediterranean. But make no mistake: the confrontation with Israel and with Israel’s Western backers remains the party’s foremost concern.

Importantly, this means that Hizbullah’s internal actions must be understood within its broader vision for Lebanon and the region. In the 1990s and early 2000s, Syrian tutelage and Israeli occupation contributed, albeit differently, to relative consensus in support of Hizbullah. Benefiting from Syrian control over Lebanese politics and Israel’s inflammatory presence, Hizbullah found it relatively easy to consolidate support within Lebanon.

After Israel’s withdrawal from Lebanon in 2000, Hizbullah put its head down and began to fortify South Lebanon. Back in Beirut, a class of politicians – now scattered among various factions - depended on Syria for their continued relevance, and thus did not challenge Damascus on matters of importance, including the security sector and Hizbullah’s special status.

In 2005, as is well-known by now, assassins took the life of former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafic Hariri. The killing was the straw that broke the camel’s back (or, perhaps, the snowflake that broke the Cedar tree). A colossal uprising drove Syria out of Lebanon, and sent Hizbullah scrambling to preserve its special prerogatives.

After months of dodging discussions on its arsenal, Hizbullah conducted a border raid and kidnapped two Israeli soldiers. The “Party of God” probably did this to orchestrate another prisoner exchange, further solidify its credibility, and demonstrate its utility in post-Syria Lebanon. But Hizbullah had miscalculated.

No longer content with the “tit-for-tat” game it had played with Hizbullah since the mid-1990s, and notwithstanding Hizbullah’s proclamation of a “Divine Victory,” Israel simply pummeled Lebanon for more than a month, killing thousands of civilians and causing billions of dollars in direct damage.

Hizbullah fighters, as Israeli troops repeatedly acknowledged, fought valiantly. But to what end? Despite their prowess in the South Lebanon’s villages and nature reserves, Hizbullah fighters could only watch (alongside millions of other Lebanese) as the Israeli air force wrought destruction from the skies.

Since the July War of 2006, Lebanon has unraveled. Israel’s brutish response may have failed to achieve its publicly declared objectives, but it exposed Lebanon’s latent divisions and has since forced Hizbullah to work hard to protect its rear in Lebanon.

First, Hizbullah had to restore its nerve center and launch a massive rebuilding project to help Shiites return to their homes (never mind the billions collected by the Lebanese government in an international donor’s conference). Second, Hizbullah had to maintain its aura of resistance while alleviating Shiite fears of another war and dealing with increasingly assertive opposition to its weapons. Third, to protect either Syria or itself, Hizbullah had to paralyze Lebanon’s institutions to stave off the formation of the Special Tribunal for Lebanon. In doing so, the party found itself further mired in Lebanon’s complex political web.

Finally, after years of burdening the Lebanese with the consequences of its arsenal, Hizbullah directly used its weapons against them in 2008. In response to a government attempt to curb its illegal use of a party-owned telecom network,  gunmen affiliated with Hizbullah and its allies took to the streets of Beirut and the Chouf Mountains, kicking off three weeks of unrest that ended with the Doha Accord, an agreement to basically “punt on” Lebanon’s disputes until parliamentary elections in 2009. After those elections yielded yet another majority for the March 14 coalition, Hizbullah and its allies managed to force through an uneasy coalition government anyway.

If U.N. prosecutors indict members of Hizbullah, and if the Tribunal’s trial chamber finds them guilty, Hizbullah will feel threatened in its ability to confront Israel and provide Iran with a strong presence in the Levant. That said, an indictment may not trigger a war or coup in 2011; indeed, the entire effort to try those responsible for a string of political assassinations in Lebanon may fizzle harmlessly if a political solution is somehow cooked up. Alternatively, Iran and Syria may prevail on Hizbullah to swallow the pill, pin the killing on “rogues” or party members that are no longer alive, and live to fight another day. In another possible scenario, Hizbullah’s patrons may decide to wait it out for another few months or years.

At this point, however, this is all speculation. If the Lebanese do not accept trading justice for peace, Hizbullah will add this latest “offense” to its already-raging fire of memory. Maybe not in 2011, but someday, somehow, Hizbullah will settle scores.

Hizbullah has offered its guarantees before; rather, it has offered the safety of silence. Having spoken up in 2005, 2006, 2007, and 2008, the Lebanese were met with a crisis at every turn. It’s time to get real.

There are three problems with Raad’s attack on the STL Agreement.

First, Raad paints over several important facts, which hit at the consistency of his otherwise impressive challenge of the STL Agreement. Raad conceals that Lebanon’s institutional paralysis had much to do with the strategy of negation adopted by Hizbullah and Amal to prevent, and then derail, the STL’s establishment. Lahoud, the Shiite ministers in cabinet, and Parliament Speaker Nabih Berri basically stonewalled for three years. Of course, Lahoud was well within his right as President to participate in or resist international treaty negotiations. At first glance, there appears to be no answer to Raad’s point on the presidency. However, Raad is mistaken in asserting that Shiites lacked representation in cabinet. In fact, there were five Shiite ministers – and they boycotted cabinet sessions, but did not resign. Furthermore, Berri’s closure of Parliament, an act that Raad and other Hizbullah MP’s backed, blatantly disregarded Article 32 of the Lebanese Constitution, which sets out “ordinary [parliamentary] sessions.”

Second, Raad misunderstands the “rules of the game” within Lebanon’s domestic constitutional framework. In arguing that the principles of “coexistence” require a Shiite veto power (and corresponding Maronite and Sunni veto power), Raad assumes that the transient balance of power shapes Lebanon’s rules. While this is true to a certain extent, cabinet and parliament are based on Christian-Muslim parity rather than on narrower communal imperatives. It is one thing to argue that the law should reflect a new communal equation; it is an entirely different question to assert that it already does. But even if “coexistence” pointed towards a tri-polar balance, the principle is meant to protect communities instead of political parties or foreign participants. Conflating Hizbullah with the Shiite community distorts the rules, and so too does conflating the Future Movement with the Sunni community or the Lebanese Forces with the Maronite community. That other Lebanese parties, like the Phalange, sometimes agree with Hizbullah’s approach, though perhaps not its conclusions, only demonstrates how these parties lay claim to their communities and further distorts the system

Third, Raad and many other politicians, regardless of their stance, adhere to a caricature view of Lebanon’s constitutional interaction with the international system. International law is part of Lebanese law (to the extent that the latter exists!). The Lebanese Constitution’s preamble states, in part, that Lebanon is “a founding and active member of the United Nations Organization and abides by its covenants […]” Besides this explicit constitutional incorporation of international law, membership in the U.N. generally requires ceding sovereignty in exchange for some measure of collective security. Within that context, Chapter VII of the U.N. Charter empowers the Security Council to adopt measures necessary to maintaining international peace and security: in addition to the use of armed force (Article 42) and other provisional measures (Article 40), Article 41 of the U.N. Charter authorizes the Security Council to adopt measures “not involving the use of armed force.”

Special courts and tribunals are within the Security Council’s authority. Resolution 1757 invokes Chapter VII authority, as do several preceding resolutions relating to crimes against Lebanon. All other considerations are secondary from a legal point of view, including the charge that Lahoud did not participate in the STL Agreement’s negotiation. In essence, Resolution 1757 expressly overrode Lebanon’s stalled domestic process, and effectively stated that the STL would come into existence by June 10, 2007 (with or without the Lebanese state’s notification or approval).

Ultimately, given the content of the Lebanese Constitution’s preamble and the general requirements of U.N. membership, it is simply nonsensical to argue that the international process in question unduly transcended Lebanon’s constitutional framework. In any case, despite these holes in Hizbullah’s argument, it is certainly a positive sign that the party’s members (and Raad in particular) have engaged their opponents on the battlefield of ideas, rather than taking to the streets. Whether debate will give way to war remains to be seen.

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