merry-go-round

The Heaviest Burden — What if a demon crept after thee into thy loneliest loneliness some day or night, and said to thee: “This life, as though livest it at present, and hast lived it, thou must live it once more, and also innumerable times; and there will be nothing new in it, but every pain and every joy and every thought and every sigh, and all the unspeakably small and great in thy life must come to thee again, and all in the same series and sequence [...]” — Wouldst thou not throw thyself down and gnash thy teeth, and curse the demon that so spake?

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science

 

between rights and capital: bank accounts for minors

On Thursday, Bank of Beirut and the Arab Countries celebrated the first Lebanese woman to open a bank account for her minor children. The Women’s Union of the Progressive Socialist Party (i.e. Walid Junblat’s party), in coordination with the Central Bank and the Association of Banks in Lebanon, was instrumental in bringing about this accomplishment. Initiated locally, the project was funded by USAID and based on a legal study by the young lawyer Paul Morcos of Justicia.

PSP’s Women’s Union marketed the project primarily using the language of rights. But the problematic and the way Morcos proceeds to deal with it is a bit more complicated. The full study can be found here, but the main obstacle, according to the banks, was that in Lebanon the father is the compulsory legal guardian (وليّ جبري) for minor children. This is according to “secular” and religious law, both Christian and Muslim. This is a long story, but “secular” in this particular case relates to an article from Majallat al-Ahkam al-Shar`iyya, or Mecelle in Turkish — this being the Ottoman civil code of 1877 which was an attempt to codify the principles of the religious (Hanafi) court. Byzantine indeed!

The issue, hence, risked stepping on spiritual toes and questioning the patriarchal and sectarian foundations of Lebanon (God forbid). Morcos circumvented the problem by shifting the focus from the Gordian knot of guardianship and highlighting instead how allowing a woman to open such accounts not only does not threaten this existing structure, but also contradicts rights accorded to women and enshrined in Lebanese law. A very intelligent solution given the imperfect circumstances. The recommendations in Morcos’s study deal with the woman not from the point of view of her rights as a mother, but as a “stipulator/assignor in trust” in a commercial contract. Her son or daughter is “the beneficiary” and the bank “the assignor.” The achievement, nevertheless, is not to be underestimated. More so because it had to do with asserting rights already accorded to women by law and of which she has been stripped through cultural/economic practices. To meet this recommendation halfway, the banks need to engineer account types to allow it to progress legally.

Which brings me to another aspect of this accomplishment. The other study that fed into the project was led by economist Kamal Hamdan and dealt with a completely different aspect of the issue at stake: economic benefits. The study demonstrates that this bank “service” would lead to an additional 100,000 bank accounts over the next ten years with a cumulative value of $400 thousand. I think this too is key to understanding how concrete results were achieved in less than a year. The project has all the right ingredients, indicating broad political support: a civil society actor linked to a sectarian party, private banks interested in expanding their economic possibilities, public institutions interested in empowering private interests, and outside funding interested in shaping the world in its own image. Far from ideal, but it seems to get things done.

 

the art of censorship and the work of memory

In the 1990s, when the Lebanese civil war was still a fresh memory, cultural products accused of “disturbing civil peace” began to disappear from the Lebanese scene. It proved to be a very flexible and useful category that included almost anything that touched on the war. I remember Robert Fisk’s Pity the Nation disappearing overnight from Beirut’s bookstores. Many blamed it on Syria at the time, but the heavy hand of censorship continues to strike today in Lebanon, the Middle East’s “only breathing space.”

This year’s Beirut International Film Festival promised to be the event of the year for film buffs. It kicked off with no less than Francis Ford Coppola coming to Lebanon to launch his latest film, Tetro. But the atmosphere soon soured when General Security prohibited the screening of two of Paolo Benvenuti’s films. The reason: they offend the church of the Middle Ages. The church here being the Catholic church, of course, because General Security based its decision upon consultation with the notorious Catholic Center for Media (المركز الكاثوليكي للاعلام), also behind the banning of Da Vinci Code.

But the story goes beyond the Catholic Center. Using the worn-out weapon of “safeguarding civil peace” — as if we needed the cinema to whip things up — General Security is now undermining the work of a promising young talent, Simon al-Habr. They have censored a crucial part of his documentary Samaan bil-Day`ah, which deals precisely with the memory of the civil war — a war we are allowed to commemorate but not to allowed to remember. The director has put the censored bit on youtube, so you can see for yourself how threatening it is (includes English subtitles).

In today’s al-Akhbar, Pierre Abi Saab rightfully points out the hypocrisy of the so-called “liberal” “intellectuals” in Lebanon who were quick to jump the gun when the censorship concerned Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, but remained silent about the undermining of local works such as al-Habr’s documentary and Mark Abi Rashid’s Help.

But I think there is another side to this. This censorship, like most censorship, is not only about the content. It is more about who is allowed to do the utterance. For what is utterly ridiculous about censoring al-Habr’s documentary in the name of “safeguarding civil peace” is that the censored recollection of the mountain war is nothing compared to the venom regularly spewed by Lebanese politicians when they evoke the civil war. And those politicians who wield violence, ironically (or not), seem to have more right to the molding of a collective memory of the war. What this kind of censorship effectively does is strip only us, the citizens, of this right.

 

private reason, public passions, and the predicament of the political elite

Ghassan Su`ud has an article on elite marriages in Lebanon with a fascinating list of who is married to whom. It is interesting that a lot of these marriages cut across not only regional and local political divides, but, as the article points out, also sectarian ones. The latter is the case with the recent marriage between Nayla Twayni, recently elected member of parliament and daughter of assassinated Jubran Twayni, and Malik Maktabi, host of the show Ahmar bil Khatt al-`Arid — a recent episode of which provoked the ire of Saudi authorities into shutting down the LBC office in Jaddah. Since the Twaynis are a well-known Orthodox family and the Maktabis are Shiite, the marriage was cited by some as a living example of coexistence in Lebanon.

Rather than testify to some evasive form of Lebanese coexistence, however, these intersectarian marriages point to a double standard in the lives of some elite. Though her choice of spouse would lead one to expect a political career free of sectarian jingoism, when Nayla Twayni was campaigning in Ashrafiyah last spring, she more than once responded to attempts at undermining her “Orthodoxness” with counterattacks stressing al-`asab al-urthuduksi. The expression translates to “Orthodox vein,” which signifies a sense of belonging to a group. But the Arabic word `asab has a heavier thud to it, sharing its root with words such Ibn Khaldun’s `asabiyah, `asabi (nervous or quick to anger), and ta`assub (fanaticism). It remains to be seen, though, whether the same `asab will be struck with the electorate when the politician in question is a female entering into wedlock with a man with whom she will be spawning Shiite children.

If the recent election and marriage of Nayla bring some flagrant contradictions into relief, they are by no means unique to her. One is left wondering: is this a simple case of the elite cynically and hypocritically catering to and exploiting mass sentiments? Perhaps. But the use of this double standard of identification does not separate the elite form the masses as much as it separates the elite from themselves. The sort of individualism that we normally associate with European liberalism — the freedom to make one’s personal choices — finds an echo only in the personal aspect of the lives of the elite. In their public lives, however, their perpetuity remains bound to a system that reproduces them as an elite. This entails not only reproducing them as a category of the population — and hence the vigorous patriarchy — but also reproducing the communities that make them relevant as political leaders. The political significance of, say, the Pharaon family would be put to the test if there were no electoral body to be summoned as an “Orthodox” body to vote for members of the family as representatives — lack of political acumen notwithstanding.

As such, this public aspect of the political elite cannot be reduced to a cynical mask, for it is an integral aspect of their existence and probably even self-image as leaders. This dichotomy — between the personal and the political — is an ironic reversal of Hannah Arendt’s ideal types of the public and private spheres. With a suspicion of the private — the sphere of necessity, constraint, sameness, and passions — Arendt saw in the public realm as exemplified by the Greek polis the place for the exercise of decision, freedom, difference, and reason. In the case of the Lebanese elite, private lives are open to the virtues of the public sphere, as Arendt sees them, while their public lives are entangled in a most murderous web of political passions.

 

leaving Lebanon

I am off for vacation in a semi-wilderness of the Arctic Circle where the Internet connection is dubious. So, I will be offline for a couple of weeks, but I leave you with this:

A friend of mine decided to come to Lebanon for a visit with her American husband. She has a Green Card and has been living in the US for almost a decade. She approaches the consul with a full-fledged application asking for a multiple-entry tourist visa to Lebanon. Mr. Consul stares at her application, stares at her wide-eyed and asks:

– And you are from India?

– Yes.

– What do you do for a living again?

– I am a professor at XYZ University.

– Well, call in a couple of weeks. But to be honest with you, I don’t think it is possible for you to get a visa.

Why, one wonders, would the country of services and tourism reject a tourist visa application beforehand when the applicant is obviously a tourist who has no intention of remaining in Lebanon? The keyword is of course “India,” making this story an instance of how labor-labels or function-labels attach to certain nationalities in Lebanon. This is a conversation I was having not too long ago with Sean, about how “Sri Lanki,” “Russian,” “Saudi,” “Syrian,” etc. often indicate not just a nationality, but a boxed function in Lebanese society. That is true to some degrees of many places, but the law in Lebanon reinforces this state of affairs and makes it difficult to move beyond it and have access to wider functions in society by, say, living long enough in the country and acquiring citizenship. With the result that second generation Sri Lankis in Lebanon today still have the job prescription of, well, “Sri Lanki.”

My friend’s story is an instance of this “labor profiling.” Mr. Consul was not merely being bigoted, though. Like a good bureaucrat, he was interpreting the law within the bounds of his duty. General Security’s outline of entrance visas to Lebanon shamelessly illustrates how the legal enshrines social prejudices into a boxing-in system of job-prescriptions. Legally, my friend should have been applying for a “Visa for work/labor” (link on the left) for that is where “India” appears. Had she been applying for a tourist visa (as a non-Arab), she should have been from one of the countries listed under “Entrance visa for the citizens of some foreign countries coming for the purpose of tourism.”

There is much to say about these visa categories, particularly about the exemptions listed under “Note” in “Entrance visa for the citizens of some foreign countries etc.,” as well as about the “Fashion model” visa, which functions as a thin veil for prostitution. General Security requires STD tests from those applying as fashion models and facilitates their visas during the shopping month and the summer festival. This used to be the function of the “Artist” visa until not too long ago, which partly explains why for the longest time prostitutes were colloquially referred to as “artistes” (French pronunciation).

So, I leave you with this riveting read on General Security’s website. And hope you enjoy what is left of the summer!

 

citizenry in “the sectarian madhouse”*

Like everyone else, I have seen this year’s elaborate electoral programs being waved in opponents’ faces on TV and I have heard candidates calling them “civilized,” but I have not seen them widen the debate. There has been another less advertised move towards issue- rather than identity-politics this year: Lebanese Parliamentary Monitor (LPM). In its “A`mal al-nuwwab” section (from the main menu to the right) you can research MP’s to find out what they have been up to in parliament since 2005. The idea is that as a citizen, I can use this resource to hold politicians accountable for their performance. A wonderful idea, no doubt.

But there is another insidious aspect to this project that turns it into little more than an exercise in futility. The NGO behind the project, “Towards Citizenship” (Nahwa al-muwatiniyah), starts with a mistaken premise: that it is lack of political education and awareness that generates the system we have in Lebanon today. Taking “enlightenment” as a starting point, the NGO has several projects pursuing education, dialogue, and advocacy as means towards convincing Lebanese (with a focus on youth) that citizenship — rather than religion, clan, etc — should be the primary principle of identity in Lebanon.

The envisioned end product — a parliamentary democracy with all its trappings — has yielded positive results in some countries. But to pinpoint ignorance as the root cause of this product’s failure in Lebanon is misguided at best. People I know who make their political decisions based on sect are fully “aware” of what a parliamentary democracy is. Their sectarian politics is a choice and an ordering of priorities, not the result of some false consciousness. Moreover, pursuing the path of “enlightening the masses” dismisses the resilience of sectarian identity as the primary principle of modern identity in Lebanon. Temporally and institutionally, its roots in Lebanon go at least as far back as “citizenship.”

We have seen how political programs were easily transformed in the hands of sectarian politics into a charade of sorts. Any ambitions of moving beyond the stagnant instability of current politics and of taking alternatives beyond a fringe group of dissatisfied members of the middle classes needs to begin by taking sectarian identity seriously rather than relegating it to ignorance or historical residues. Otherwise, we might very well end up with the trappings without the democracy. In the mean time, the LPM is an invaluable source and it remains to be seen whether the statistics will be shaken up over the next four years. I, for one, do not have to make any difficult decisions this Sunday: the results in my electoral district are a foregone conclusion.

* Borrowing “العصفورية المذهبية” from journalist Ali Hamadah and Omar Karami. I am not sure who coined it, but it has a nice ring to it and it evokes the “gilded cage”.

 

(sectarian) citizen and (sectarian) state

A couple of weeks ago, I was at a seminar where Geir O. Pedersen was main speaker. Pedersen is shifting from UN special envoy to Norwegian foreign ministry employee, which is why I suppose he felt more comfortable talking freely about the situation in the Middle East (although he did categorically refuse to comment on the suspected nuclear activity in Syria). I was pleasantly surprised to hear the man speak, elegantly and intelligently, on Lebanon and its various players.

He said what many understand by now: that the tension in Lebanon can only be resolved through diplomatic efforts on the Israeli-Syrian front and the Iranian-American front. His opinion was that Obama should strike the weakest link — Syria-Israel — and things will have a better chance to unfold. As far as Hizballah is concerned, he said two things. One, that they really did not expect Israel’s reaction in 2006 and, two, that Hizballah are the only ones who mean something in Lebanon (from the international politics point of view, as I understand).

Notwithstanding, I thought his analysis had a severe limitation that primarily had to do with where he comes from: a UN and a “statist” perspective. At one point, he characterized Lebanon as a place of contradictions between, for example, a modern democracy and a clanish/feudal system. My historical understanding of the clanish/feudal system is that it is part and parcel of our form of modern democracy and that is precisely why it is so difficult to get rid off.

Then, discussing Hizballah’s weapons, he explained that he had said to Hizballah (waving a disciplinary finger): you cannot decide in matters of peace and war, it is the government who should (not verbatim). The main question here is: is it possible to talk about “government” as if it was a neutral arbitrator of the affairs of the people? When sectarianism is so ingrained in the system, is the government not a sectarian player or conglomeration of players? Is this not at the heart of the problem of why the only “appellation” (to crudely use the already crude Althusser) that people collectively respond to is sect? Is it even possible to speak of politics in Lebanon without speaking of sects?

I see the two problems — of seeing sectarianism as a historic residue and of thinking of the government as neutral arbitrator — as related. Pedersen indirectly acknowledged that when he went through the different players in Lebanon: the Christians, the Sunni, the Shia. No government there. That he then moved to speak of “the government” in the case of Hizballah’s weapons is an indication that he does not grasp the depths to which sectarianism is rooted in our so-called democracy and that the two forms — of sectarianism and democracy — comfortably inhabit the same space.