Lebanon's Tragedy

By Philippe Asseily

Dear Ms. Levantine,
We are living in very exciting times, as things are moving at last in our beloved country. How can we forget the magnificent demonstration that took place in Beirut’s central squares? One million people. And how about the sea of flags fluttering in the wind? Like many, I became very emotional watching the images on television. After all the dark years, hope was blooming again in Lebanon. I went back to my history books, and it seemed to me that we had traveled 85 years back in time. Our present situation is nearly identical to the one at the end of World War One: a paradigm shift in the Near-East with the death of the old order and the creation of a new one; and in Lebanon, an uneasy alliance between what we will call the triumphant Neo-Kaysee faction and the ever hopeful people of the cities to create yet another “Sovereign Lebanon”. The tragedy of our country is not so much foreign intervention in our internal affairs - which is only a symptom - as it is the huge mistake that we have kept making for the past decades. Lebanon’s tragedy is that instead of creating The Greater Beirut, we came up with The Greater Mount Lebanon. Depending on one’s references, it is either history moving in cycles or déjà vu “all over again”, but we are about to repeat the same monumental error. Please allow me to give you a brief historical perspective on our problem.

In the early days of the Ottoman Empire, Mount Lebanon was referred to as a “Forsaken Region” (Pays Abandonné). It was one of the areas of the conquering Ottomans’ realm that they did not care much about, as our country had no natural resources and was not populated enough to provide a significant number of soldiers for the army. It was left to the local Walis in Damascus, Tripoli and Sidon to collect taxes for the Imperial treasury. Living in splendid isolation, the area had ample time to develop its idiosyncrasies, the most remarkable being the Kaysee/Yemeni division. This split existed all over the Near-East, but Mount Lebanon perfected it to the point that it still is its Modus Operandi in the XXIst century. The goal of both factions was the same: to protect the narrowest interests of local chieftains and other notables, and to preserve their power base for their descendants. Where they drastically differed was in the way that they achieved these goals. The Kaysee favored an autonomous Mount Lebanon, and forged alliances with outside powers to guarantee that autonomy. As you remember from your high-school history, Fakhreddin courted Florence, Bechir II allied himself with the Egyptians, and Youssef Karam counted on the French. The Yemeni on the other hand were not overly interested in more elbow room, and they threw their lot with the local powers, mainly the Wali of Damascus and eventually the central government in Constantinople. The greatest Kaysee victory was the battle of Ain Dara in 1711, when they launched a surprise attack on the Yemeni who were waiting for reinforcement from the Wali of Damascus. One of the saving graces of this system, at least until the 1860s, was that it cut through religious lines. After the collapse of the feudal regime, the Maronite Church became the champion of the Kaysee cause, while influential Lebanese in the Ottoman administration in Constantinople supported the Yemeni. However, the Yemeni ended up losing their power with the Young Turks’ revolt and World War One, paving the way for the creation of Greater Lebanon. There are two important facts that we should keep in mind: first, the official history of Lebanon was written from the victorious Kaysee point of view, making the Yemeni appear as a historical anomaly, though this is far from true. In fact, supporters of the central authority whether in Damascus or Constantinople had as much legitimacy in Mount Lebanon as their autonomy-seeking rivals. Second, neither party was ever interested in creating a self-sustaining nation; they were only looking to perpetuate the position of their family, their clan, their village, or at best, their religious group. As a result, it is quite unrealistic to expect today’s Neo-Kaysee faction to come up with a viable vision for Lebanon. They can only agree on the evacuation of the troops of the new Wali of Damascus, on the punishment of the Neo-Yemeni, and on some faraway foreign protection to guarantee the new status quo. This is as far as they can go and beyond that, it is the interstellar void. This is what we got for making our country a replica of Mount Lebanon, and unless we are very careful, our future will be consumed in wondering how long the Jumblatts will be able to keep the Arslans at bay, or who of Samir Geagea and Michel Aoun - the two geniuses who brought us the “War of Annihilation” (Harb al Ilghak) - will reach the higher position in the new “sovereign” state.

At the beginning of the XIXth century, Beirut was an isolated small town on the Lebanese coast with around 5,000 inhabitants and an unsavory reputuation as a safe haven for pirates. In the 1830s, the invading Egyptian army built a huge military base outside the city walls as well as a Quarantine south of it, where all the ships visiting the area had to stop. Beirut thus became the boomtown of the Near-East and by the end of the century, it counted more than 150,000 inhabitants. People came from all over the area to settle in the city: from Mount Lebanon, Palestine, Syria, Turkey, and Armenia. They even came from America, and established a college there. They were “merchants and migrants”, to borrow a book’s tilte, but also refugees and educators. All the newcomers were eventually integrated in the social fabric of the city, which became a typical cosmopolitan, multi-confessional metropolis of the Levant. In addition to the “Long Peace” in the Mountain, Beirut also enjoyed “Long Prosperity”, and started competing with the neighboring cities, especially Damascus. Realizing its vitality, the Ottomans declared it the capital of an administrative region stretching form Northern Syria to Southern Palestine, excluding the Mutassarfiyah of Mount Lebanon. Damascus was relegated to being the seat of a smaller inland province, and the dreams of Fakhreddin and Bechir II were fulfilled not by fierce mountain warriors, but by a coastal city’s migrants. Of course, Beirut had its share of political problems over the years. It seems to have beem bombarded by every country with a fleet: Russia, England, Italy etc. But contrary to Mount Lebanon, outside powers did not have much influence on the life of the city, because Beirut was not particularly interested in politics; the business of the city was business. When the Ottoman Empire collapsed in 1918, after some soul-searching, the Beirutis opted to join the newly created state of Lebanon instead of choosing King Faysal’s new regime in Syria. Beirut had grown over the years, and was not interested in becoming the junior economic partner of Damascus. On top of that, there were too many differences between the two cities, the main one being that Beirut had always been more open to the outside world (it was a port after all), while Damascus was the more austere inland city at the edge of the desert.

In summary, the situation at the end of WWI was as follows: the Neo-Kaysee in Mount-Lebanon finally had their autonomy under French protection, and the Beirutis were willing to join the creation of a new country that they hoped would provide the adequate structure for them to prosper and preserve their way of life. A country where seventeen different religious groups would live peacefully side by side, tolerate each other and create a stable environment for growth. The model for this ideal world was not to be found in Nabatiyeh, Mukhtara or Zghorta, but in Beirut where it actually worked pretty well for many decades. Lebanon’s tragedy was that the city was never able to impose its political role, and that instead, the old rivalries of the mountain took over the life of the country. Those rivalries were not condusive to the creation of a modern state, and we ended up with a fragmented country where local chieftains tried to protect their power with the help of a wide array of foreign countries. We are in a similar situation today, and we cannot afford to make the same errors. Not only for our own sake, but more importantly for that of our children. Hence, dear Ms. Levantine, the question that I am sure is on your mind: what is to be done? Quite simply, we have to shift the balance of power from the countryside to the city.

The first and most basic reform should entail allowing people to vote at their primary place of residence. Today, about 50% of the Lebanese population lives in Beirut and its suburbs, yet the city is only represented by 18 out of the 128 members in Parliament (less that 15%). This surreal situation can only make sense in a country like ours. To realize its absurdity, look no further than your very own case, dear Ms. Levantine. Should you want to vote in the next election, you would have to go to Dfoun, in the Aley area because it so happens that your husband’s grandfather was born there. He left the town to settle in Beirut, your husband’s family has not lived in Dfoun for three generations, and I am sure that you would need a detailed map just to get there. But not to worry: once you reach the town, you will have the thrilling choice of voting for one of two local chieftains whose families have fought over the region for three centuries. Most of the voters have left the area to settle around Beirut a long time ago, and don’t have any way to get organized in order to support a candidate with new ideas or a tangible plan of action. Besides, their mere presence on the electoral rolls only legitimizes the traditional local leaders. It reminds me of Pavel Tchichikoff buying Dead Souls to make a fortune. In our case, you have local chieftains counting on phantom voters to stay relevant. In the melting pot of Beirut, political dynasties would be almost impossible to sustain, and candidates would need more than their names and traditions to be successful. They would have to come up with ideas and political programs, and we would engage in real debates on questions of interest for all involved. We would at least be on the way to creating a respectable modern state.

To solve our identity crisis, another urgent undertaking is the thorough rewriting of our history. As of today, all we have in our history books are “our ancestors” the Phoenicians, and central Mount-Lebanon under the Ottomans. This is sufficient from a Neo-Kaysee perspective, as it glorifies their two main figures: Fakhreddin and Bechir II. Nevertheless, it is grossly inadequate as it ignores the history of 90% of the Lebanese population: those of us who are not lucky enough to be from the Chouf or the Kasarwan. It is high time we open up our history to the North, the South, the Bekaa Valley, Tripoli, Sidon, Beirut etc. Treating them as non-entities is insulting.

We should also let the city revert to its primary function, that of an integrator of migrants, and not just the wealthy ones. The last community to be successfully integrated were the Armenians in the 1920s, and I would argue that they are the ideal Lebanese citizens. Their contribution to the economic and cultural vitality of the city and of the country is second to none. During the civil war they did not partake in the orgy of killing and destruction that so enthralled other highly patriotic communities, and they managed to preserve their roots and a strong sense of identity while blending with the life of the country. We need to urgently integrate marginalized communities like the Palestinians, who have been rotting in slums for over fifty years. For our country to be successful, we cannot afford to leave any group of people behind. Let us not forget that we were all once refugees in Beirut. Besides, most of those who fought and destroyed the city were outsiders who never were properly integrated.

Last but not least, we should preserve our country’s environment. Eco-systems in our part of the world are extremely fragile. In order for them to sustain us, we have to protect them. After all, our national symbol is a tree, and everyone now refers to “the Cedar revolution”. If protecting the environment is not a priority, time has come to redesign our flag.

Dear Ms. Levantine, time has come for us to give Said Akl his due, not for his flimsy racial views on the Phoenicians, but because the whole area is inexorably reverting to its naturals form of organization, that of the city-states that will emerge to fill the void left by irrelevant national entities. City-states will sprout all over the area, and will compete against each other. The Beirut city-state is already being created, with Sidon and Tripoli a mere 30 minutes from the downtown area. We need to get ready to face our competition: Amman already has a headstart, but Damascus and Aleppo are lagging, blighted as they are by Baathist enlightenment. It goes without saying that our biggest threat however will come from the south. Once the Israelis stop working overtime on their imagined community to justify their militarized ghetto by the Mediterranean Sea, and start realizing that they can become more powerful by working with the Palestinians, the Tel Aviv/Haifa city-state will constitute a formidable threat to our existence. With have wasted enough time with sterile Kaysee/Yemeni rivalries. Time has come for us to create a truly sovereign state, not just a messy amalgam of factions depending on countries near and far to hold on to their privileges. At the very least, we urgently need to initiate a debate to define our vision for our country. The million demonstrators who took to the streets will be devastated if we do not. Unfortunately, it seems that as of today, our only choice is to replace one traditional faction by another. It reminds of the old classic by The Who where they sang: “Meet the new boss/Same as the old boss”. And by the way, the name of the song is: “We won’t get fooled again”.

An avid reader of Middle Eastern history, PHILIPPE ASSEILY manages a hedge fund in New York City.