Zeid Hamdan and General Suleiman: The Authoritarianism of Fragile Egos (or vice versa)

Karl Sharro

Republished with permission from Karlremarks. Follow him also on twitter @Karlremarks.

Message from Zeid Hamdan in prison: 'Dear friends, I am now in the prison of the police station of the palace of justice in Beirut because of my song "General Soleiman". They are prosecuting me for defammation of President Soleiman. I dont know, until when I am staying in prison. Please mobilize!'

The Lebanese musician Zeid Hamdan, recently back from participating in the Shubbak Festival in London, sent this message from his detention cell in Beirut earlier today. Shubbak was intended as a 'window on contemporary Arab culture', the bitter irony is that this incident has now given an all too realistic view of the contemporary culture of repression and arbitrary use of power in Lebanon. The song in question, General Suleiman, is a light-hearted reggae number that has has provoked the humourless authorities to go after Zeid Hamdan, in all likelihood for the 'offence' of demeaning the position of the President of the Republic. This archaic residue of the French mandate period has often been used by the authorities to clamp down on the freedom of expression.

Last year I reviewed General Suleiman, and I may have been too harsh on the borrowed imagery in the video clip and the soft satire it employed. Zeid explained at the time that the idea for the song came out of the political frustrations of the power vacuum that the country experienced, and how he saw the election of General Suleiman as a positive step. The song is in fact is a plea for change, for stability, for normalcy. As a result of the authorities' incompetence, lack of humour and heavy-handedness, perhaps it will now spark a genuine drive for change. The reaction to the detention has been swift, the news travelled very quickly and protest will hopefully follow very soon.

While it's tempting to defend Zeid on the basis that the song isn't actually offensive, I think this is the wrong approach. What we need to defend here is the freedom of expression, without qualifications, and push for abolishing the archaic laws that provide the legal basis for such arrests. No politician or public figure should be beyond critique, and they shouldn't be allowed to use those laws in a desperate bid to gain the respect that their political record hasn't gained them. The role of art and music isn't to flatter the fragile egos of insecure public figures. Let's say a resolute no to these forms of intellectual intimidation and fight for our freedom to offend the clique of fools that is ruling us.

Join the Free Zeid page on facebook.

A Premier League Guide to Lebanese Politics.

Karl Sharro

Republished with permission from Karlremarks. Follow him  also on twitter @Karlremarks.

Lebanese politics can appear confusing to the outside observer. Indeed, most of the time, it appears confusing to the inside observer. However, Lebanese politics has inherent logic and rules and, once those are grasped, following it can offer hours of entertainment for the whole family. In an effort to demystify some of the conceptual and technical aspects of Lebanese politics, I offer you the Premier League Guide to Lebanese Politics. It’s a handy metaphorical guide that will help you tell the difference between a Jumblatt and a Aoun, and answer questions like why they can never be on the same side.

But what do Lebanese politics and the English Premier League have in common, I hear you ask? Simple, it’s all about the relaxed rules about foreign ownership and player transfers. Like the Premier League, most parties in Lebanon are financed by foreign owners who are mostly connoisseurs that invest heavily in their hobby. Lebanese politicians are very pragmatic about their affiliations, and can often be convinced to switch sides. Lebanese politics is also divided into competition seasons and periods of rest during players assess their performance and the tourists are allowed to come for the summer.

So let’s find who’s who in Lebanese politics:

Hezbollah: Hezbollah are the Manchester United of Lebanese politics. They were around for a while, but didn’t become really successful until they found the right manager, their own Alex Ferguson. Under his leadership, they acquired a winning touch and they’ve done very well since he took the helm. Many others are jealous of their successes and want to end their dominance. Like Man U, their fans don’t like Americans.

The Future Movement: Future are the ‘blues’ of Lebanese politics. They also are bankrolled by a tycoon and have had some success in recent years, but not enough to meet their expectations. They’ve managed to lure players from other teams often, but they haven’t all been good signings. They also experimented with young and inexperienced managers.

The Lebanese Forces: The Lebanese Forces are the Liverpool of Lebanese politics. They were successful in the 80s, but then they spent years in the shadows. Like Liverpool, they brought back their manager from the 80s in hope of finding the winning formula. He spent years away from the game for personal reasons.

The Free Patriotic Movement: Had Blackpool not been relegated, it would have been the perfect equivalent of the FPM. Both like the colour orange and both are led by loud-mouthed, hot-headed individuals who seem to speak their own language. Both Blackpool and the FPM have bigger ambitions than their resources and skills merit. However, since Blackpool were relegated last season, this analogy doesn’t actually work.

Walid Jumblatt: Walid Jumblatt is the ‘libero’ of Lebanese politics. He has a classic sweeper’s ability to ‘read the game’ and anticipate the opponent’s movements. His own movements are impossible to predict. Like Ashly Cole, he has switched sides between red and blue teams, but he doesn’t have Cole’s commitment and sense of loyalty.

The National Bloc: Arsenal. Both are led by men who are more comfortable when speaking French and nobody takes either seriously.

A Second part will follow soon. Help complete the guide and send your own suggestions.

The No-Fly Zone in Libya: Hijacking the Arab Uprisings

Karl Sharro

Republished with permission from KarlRemarks

Last night’s UN Security Council’s decision to authorise military action in Libya was greeted with almost universal jubilation revealing how confused the anti-imperialist camp has become. The very same people who had been opposed to the US invasion and continuing presence in Iraq and Afghanistan cheered the decision that will supposedly prevent Qaddafi from massacring his people. This also revealed the left’s lack of faith in revolutionary politics: overnight the Libyans were turned from subjects attempting to take control of their destiny into victims in need of protection. The most troubling aspect of this is the willingness to recognise the West’s moral superiority, failing to acknowledge that Western intervention has been actively propping up authoritarian Arab regimes for decades. The no-fly zone is nothing to celebrate, on the contrary it signals a major turning point that will hand the West the initiative allowing it to ensure its interests are maintained in the region. It will also undermine the legitimacy of the autonomous Arab uprisings as they begin to be associated with Western sponsorship. We have entered a new phase with direct Western intervention that will pose serious threats to the pursuit of freedom in Arab countries.

There is no doubt that many people who support the no-fly zone are driven by good intentions, and it’s tough to watch Gaddafi’s forces regain ground and advance towards Benghazi without feeling the need to ‘do something’. This is particularly understandable given the early success of the Libyan uprising and the sense of expectation it created, contrasted with the current frustration of seeing Gaddafi about to crush the democracy movement. Yet, it is very important to resist the temptation to intervene at any cost. Let’s not forget what the uprisings are about: people attempting to shape their destiny. In other words, they are about autonomy, self-determination and the manifestation of popular will. No matter how well-intentioned outside intervention is, and Western intervention in the region has proved to be far from well-intentioned, it contradicts those principles. 

The celebrations that erupted on the streets of Benghazi following the announcement of UNSC resolution 1973 were seen by many as legitimising this intervention, since the people of Libya are asking for intervention then the UN decision becomes credible, so the argument goes. Again it’s understandable that the rebels when facing the prospect of defeat would reach out for any form of help, but this does not justify military intervention, whether sanctioned by the UN or not. The UN and Western governments are deciding for themselves which voices to listen to in Libya in a clear contradiction of the principles of sovereignty and self-determination. The dubious nature of the decision to override Libya’s sovereignty is only amplified by the near-silence over the crackdown on the protests in Bahrain, which has hardly moved Western governments to act. Of course intervention in Bahrain would be equally illegitimate and ill-advised, but it reveals the West’s hypocrisy and opportunism in taking the moral high ground over Libya while ignoring the situation in Bahrain, where the West’s regional allies are actively participating in putting down the uprising. 

The astounding aspect of the West’s rush to intervene in Libya, led in particular by David Cameron and Nicolas Sarkozy, is how quickly the lessons of the Iraq invasion and its catastrophic aftermath have been forgotten. The UN and Western governments have sought to make distinctions between the two Libya and Iraq by sanctioning all military action but ruling out an invasion, in an attempt to portray this as a humanitarian intervention rather than regime change. But the utter folly of this distinction is remarkable. The most that a no-fly zone would achieve is a stalemate. Gaddafi’s forces would be prevented from making any advance and attacks on civilians would be stopped, but given the meagre military capabilities of the opposition, they will not be able to achieve victory either. How long would be after that when the calls for further intervention would be intensified, in a situation that we have witnessed several times before from Bosnia to Iraq? The West having already committed itself would be unable to withdraw from the situation, eventually making an invasion a very likely prospect. Not that there is a distinction anyway, the UN resolution is a declaration of war on Libya that can only escalate in magnitude. 

Already there are voices making the case for such an increased intervention. Today David Aaronovitch, one of the main cheerleaders of the Iraq war, wrote an article in The Times arguing that ‘the price of inaction in Libya is far too high’. Aaronovitch’s article clearly reveals the prism of risk through which the West now primarily regards events in the world, as he put it: ‘if we don’t bomb Gaddafi’s tanks, Europe is likely to face a wave of refugees and a new generation of jihadis’. Like the argument for the Iraq war, this reveals the precautionary approach that drives Western pre-emptive interventions. In the case of unpopular leaders like Cameron and Sarkozy, it’s also about trying to find a moral sense of purpose abroad to compensate for their lack of credibility at home. Obama was convinced to tag along after his earlier hesitation, with the attractive prospect of compensating for his incompetent handling of the Egyptian uprising and his failure to reign in his allies in the Gulf. But, in effect, this is a recipe for disaster as the intervention has neither a clear purpose nor a desirable outcome that could be achieved without further military intervention. 

The West was undoubtedly caught off-guard with the Tunisian and Egyptian uprisings, and the actions of Western governments over the past few weeks have revealed astonishing levels of incompetence. They also revealed the extent to which their influence in the region has deteriorated, robbing them of the ability to dictate the course of events. Enforcing the no-fly zone over Libya will allow the West to portray itself in a better light and take back the initiative, but in effect it is only likely to complicate the situation on the ground further. The legitimacy of the Libyan uprising can only be undermined through its association with Western powers, while Gaddafi will be able to deploy the anti-Western card that he is so adept at. It will also weaken the autonomous impulse of the Arab uprisings, replacing popular action as a means for political change with Western sponsorship and protection. This can only mean the return of imperial influence under a different guise. The no-fly zone represents an attempt at hijacking the Arab uprisings and opposing it should become a political priority.

The Egyptian Uprising: On the Universal Aspiration for Freedom

Karl Sharro

Published with permission from Karlremarks

The sheer exhilaration that I felt in response to the Egyptian uprising, admittedly as a voluntarily-implicated observer, has been somewhat dampened by the reaction of Western elites to this phenomenal display of courage and yearning for change. On the one hand, it seemed that the Egyptian people have managed, despite extremely adverse circumstances, to translate the universal ideals of liberty and autonomy into concrete political actions that have inspired millions around the world. But on the other hand it seems to have exposed how little faith in those very same ideals there is in the West today, as exemplified by the strange debates that are being conducted about the prospects of the Egyptian uprising. The most bizarre suggestion that I have heard is that this uprising somehow vindicates the neo-con position that democracy is possible in the Middle East! This confirms the impression that I had about the anti-Iraq War camp: its opposition to the War was not based on a principled rejection of Western intervention but on its lack of faith in democracy and liberty as universal values.

This position is normally phrased through the language of cultural relativism: we can’t impose our values on other cultures, we can’t pretend to know what’s better for other people, and the democratic model is not suitable for everyone. To be sure, many Arab intellectuals have fully absorbed this patronising outlook, ironically by uncritically accepting ideas that are fashionable in Western academic circles. The most blatant omission within such assumptions is that the problem here is not in the values themselves but in the act of their forceful imposition. Democracy can only thrive as a translation of popular will, and that can only develop within an autonomous framework. It is absolutely hypocritical of the West to pretend today that democracy is not suitable for Egypt, having interfered actively for several decades to prop up the Mubarak’s regime and support with large packages of military aid, and not see that as one of the key factors that worked against the development of the pro-democracy movement. The gnashing of teeth in Washington about the prospect of Egypt turning into ‘another Iran’, aside from being unjustified, is even more hypocritical considering the historic support that the US lent to Islamic movements with the aim of fighting the spread of communism.

The historical short-sightedness that afflicts the contemporary Western outlook towards the Arab world completely ignores the history of secular movements and uprisings there throughout the 20th century, and even more blatantly ignores the role of the West in combating the spread of those movements. The most pressing question for Western elites has now become whether it is possible for democracy to develop in Arab countries, feeding the scepticism and anxiety about the Egyptian uprising. Astoundingly, it doesn’t strike any of those asking this question that merely posing it is incredibly patronising, as if there is something about Arabs that is inherently opposed to democracy. Many will point to the victory of Hamas in the Palestinian elections and the victory of the Islamic Front in the 1992 elections as evidence that Arabs will inevitably vote for Islamic parties when given the chance. Aside from the obvious disregard for democracy that this suggests, it also ignores the context in which those electoral victories were achieved. Crucially, Western intervention had a role to play in both instances: by backing the authoritarian Algerian regime and by promoting the forcefully pushing the peace process that discredited the Palestinian Authority and led to popular discontent with its rule.

But what’s happening now in Egypt should be a reminder that democracy is a messy business, unlike the neutered version that European bureaucrats promote today. But Western elites can only understand democracy through the prism of the paternalistic version they have been promoting for decades and that’s why the un-predictability of the Egyptian uprising scares them. No one knows for certain what the outcome will be, especially given the frantic Western efforts to find a suitable solution that would maintain ‘stability’, but the brave actions of the Egyptian people today are the living embodiment of the universal aspirations for freedom and democracy. It is Western elites and governments that are betraying those ideals through their hypocritical and cynical attitude. The sheer arrogance of suggesting that people who are risking their lives by standing up against a brutal regime are not ‘ready for democracy’ is insulting and patronising. Western governments should stop lecturing about democracy now that their lack of belief in it has been starkly exposed.

But as one friend jokingly remarked, perhaps the West is not ready for democracy yet.

Lebanon's self-induced paralysis

By Karl Sharro

Published with permission from Karlremarks.

Firstly, the significance of latest ‘crisis’ to hit the Lebanese political system following the resignation of 11 cabinet ministers yesterday, and the de facto resignation of the cabinet that ensued, should be properly understood. The Lebanese confessional system appears to be exhibiting the symptoms of the law of diminishing returns: in the past this system used to function for a couple of decades in between major crises. This cycle how now been shortened to two years. By any objective measure, this system has now completely exhausted itself. Nevertheless, a viable alternative remains conspicuously absent.

Secondly, it is important to observe how both sides across the political divide have contrived to arrive at a standstill, purposefully avoiding taking decisions that would avert a crisis. It seems that both March 8 and March 14 were content to leave the country in a state of political vacuum in anticipation of the Special Tribunal for Lebanon’s awaited indictment in the case of the assassination of late Prime Minister Rafik Hariri. Rather than seeing this complacency for the stark abdication of responsibility that it is, many voices assert that either side ‘must know something we don’t know.’ This twisted political logic must be confronted.

The evidence: Prime Minister Saad Hariri and his political allies have effectively paralysed the cabinet for months now, for fear of a confrontation with the ‘cabinet opposition’ over the ‘false witnesses’ issue. Hariri extended his stay outside Lebanon at a time of turmoil, leaving his allies and supporters in a state of confusion and disarray. His presence in the US during this week reinforced the notion that the US was behind scuppering the long-awaited Syrian-Saudi deal that was expected to absorb the impact of the STL indictment. While I remain completely opposed to any outside intervention, be it Syrian, Saudi or American, Hariri’s behaviour seemed to indicate that he is placing his confidence in the US instead of other regional powers. No matter what the explanation is, this is not strong leadership.

The opposition: the cabinet resignations were the least disruptive option they could have chosen. I don’t mean this in a good way. Hezbollah and its allies are victims of their own high-pitched rhetoric: having agitated for so long and so vocally over the STL they were forced to ‘do something’ when the Syrian-Saudi deal fell apart. As it happens, they deliberately chose a course of action that instead of forcing a resolution would now ensure a protracted process of wrangling and accompanying political paralysis. They have wisely avoided street demonstrations, for now, as these would be likely to lead to violent confrontations in the current tense climate, but they had other options they could have exercised.

The ‘big unknown’ now is where does Walid Jumblatt stand exactly. The reason of course is that his 11-memeber parliamentary block could swing the parliamentary majority from one side to the other. As it happened, Jumblatt seems to be still negotiating a space in the middle, for the time being, his ministers did not resign yesterday despite his assertions that he is now firmly back in the Syrian camp. This is not a detail: we now have a parliament that is ambiguous in its constitution. Neither camp can claim legitimacy under these circumstances. Typically, the voice of the citizens is the first thing to be suspended in a time of a crisis.

Had the opposition had more self-purpose and clarity, they should have forced Jumblatt to choose sides and speed up the resolution of this crisis. The first option they had was to force a motion of no-confidence and bring down the government in the parliament. Despite the language used yesterday, this would have been the ‘democratic and constitutional’ option, not their weak mass resignations. Furthermore, they should have then used the parliamentary majority that Jumblatt would supply to govern on their own, nominating their own Prime Minister. Instead, they will now start a protracted process of arriving at a suitable replacement for Hariri while the country remains in limbo.

Typically, most of the analysis I’ve come across has focused on the minutiae of the situation, remaining oblivious to the fact that we’re in a system that cannot guarantee stability for more than a few months at a time. This is a self-induced crisis orchestrated by the political classes for lack of any real vision or sense of purpose, action through inaction. Attempts at rationalising this behaviour through tactical justifications are entertaining but meaningless diversions. The system itself is failing, and neither camp can be trusted to propose an alternative. Can we see this abdication of responsibility for what it is?

Look at the situation again: the Lebanese confessional leaders are failing to resolve their differences through their respective chaperons, but meanwhile they are content to suspend democratic mechanism and more importantly the voice of the citizens. (The ambiguous parliament). I suppose dissolving the parliament and having new elections so we know at least where we stand would be out of the question? The self-induced paralysis it is, then.

A Scandalous Lack of Scandal: Why Wikileaks failed to impress in Lebanon

By Karl Sharro 

Republished with permission from Karlremarks

First things first: the attacks that brought down Al-Akhbar newspaper’s website today are a despicable action that is as pointless as it is stupid. Firstly, any hope of stemming the flow of information on the internet is a delusion and secondly those attacks will only reinforce the idea that the leaked information that Al-Akhbar published should be repressed. To me, freedom of speech in the Arab world is much more important than political disagreements and we should all support Al-Akhbar against those attacks.

Many people got really excited when Al-Akhbar started publishing the material it obtained from Wikileaks, predicting ‘catastrophe or even worse’ as I read somewhere. Such predictions reveal the astounding level of naivety that characterises many ‘commentators’ today, particularly the younger generation of bloggers who seem to be far more immersed in the online world that nurtured Wikileaks than in Lebanese politics. The real surprise is that some seasoned observers would make the same mistake of transferring the Hollywood world of Wikileaks to the Lebanese context.

For example, the general director of Al-Akhbar Ibarhim Al-Amin ‘wondered critically why Hezbollah has been silent regarding the scandal of Ilyas Murr in Wikileaks’, as As’ad Abu Khalil put it. If you have been living in a nuclear bunker for the past few weeks, the documents published in Al-Akhbar revealed that the Minister of Defence and Deputy PM Murr had given advice to Israel through American representatives on how to conduct an upcoming confrontation with Hezbollah, in addition to several other ‘juicy’ revelations. Al-Amin picked up on Murr hinting to the Americans that Imad Mughniyeh, a Hezbollah military leader who was assassinated in Damascus, masterminded the political assassinations of March 14 members. Al-Amin ended his article with a pertinent question about Hezbollah’s position regarding the leaks.

But what are the revelations exactly? Lebanese leaders conspire against each other with foreign powers? Big surprise! This has been going on since the country was established, and everyone knows it. In fact, given the routine accusations of treason and the usual conspiracy scenarios, some of the politicians came out looking a bit less conspiratorial than the public would have normally assumed. The suggestion that the Special Tribunal for Lebanon is politicised? Did we need the leaks to figure out that it was designed as a tool for political revenge and a stick with which to beat Syria?

But the real surprise to me is that so many observers still fail to comprehend the nature and limits of sectarian politics in Lebanon. The confessional system is based on mutual mistrust, it’s predisposed a priori towards the institutionalisation of suspicion. This is expressed in all the arrangements that mediate the relationships between the large confessions and that control power-sharing. But the system can only function under a veneer of politeness that decrees that these antagonisms should never be expressed in public and should always be referred to metaphorically. Thus, we must all pretend that the May 7 events were not a blatant sectarian conflict between Sunnis and Shiites, as you could easily find out on Youtube, but a ‘political’ conflict.

These well-nurtured relationships of mutual suspicion have always served to reinforce the power of confessional leaders, bringing them to the surface would in a curious way undermine this form of authority. Once the masks fall, there would be no way of managing those relationships through politics and the only option becomes war. Thus, when Al-Amin asks Hezbollah to recognise the leaks and act on them he’s asking for Hezbollah to wage war. Thankfully, Hezbollah’s leadership has the wisdom to avoid such a prospect.

Furthermore, those who expected the leaks to have a bigger impact have underestimated the extent to which the ‘solution’ to the STL indictment dilemma has now been handed over to the Saudis and the Syrians. The Lebanese factions have little control over this process now, aside from their ‘wish lists’ that they have left with their guardians in Damascus and Riyadh. Nothing else can explain the complicity of both political camps to maintain the current internal inertia in the face of the pressing urgency of this political impasse. We will no doubt a new distribution of roles once the dust has settled, ushering in a new era of externally-sponsored coexistence. The scandal here is not the leaks, but the miserable inability of Lebanese leaders to sort out their own problems.

But there’s a wider problem here that concerns the leaks themselves. Despite all the excited buzz we’re hearing about ‘the truth’, the leaks are not the truth. They are how American diplomats view the world. That in itself is not the truth about anything. Information on its own does not become a truth unless placed within a coherent narrative about what their meaning and significance is. Such narrative has been remarkable in its absence in this case. This is not to say that they should not be made public, but the mere fact of making them public on its own does not make them relevant without a coherent narrative.

And it’s in this last aspect that Al-Akhbar has failed to use the leaks in a meaningful way, it merely replicated what Wikileaks did on a smaller scale. Even the layout of the leaks page on Al-Akhbar resembled a shopping website instead of a newspaper: masses of data categorised for easy consumption. In its eagerness to modernise, Al-Akhbar has tended to replicate uncritically trends in the Leftist Western press at the expense of engaging with the Lebanese political context. It would do well to question its political affiliations in this scandal-resistant nation and perhaps look more critically at the events of the last few years. We have enough information to make judgements about Lebanese politics; what we lack is the principled stance not the data.

In solidarity, critically, with Al-Akhbar.

In defence of elitism: the American University of Beirut

By Karl Sharro

Published with permission from Karlremarks

I was amused to read this philistine attack on the American University of Beirut by Jana Nakhal in Al-Akhbar newspaper, The AUB and Beirut: One Side Love. Nakhal, 'an urban-planning engineer' (sic), subjects the AUB to a shrill anti-colonial examination uncovering it in the process as an 'accelerating factor in the popular acceptance of colonial ideas, tastes and concepts'. (Presumably things like engineering, medicine and architecture which colonialism forced us to accept).

Nakhal is upset that the AUB seems to be cut-off from its urban context and is not interested in having any meaningful interaction with the areas that surround it. Its students apparently impose their tastes on the areas around and 'take nothing in return'. The proof? None of the students pick up the distinctive local accent of the area! The irony of course is when the AUB was established in 1866, the neighbourhoods around did not even exist. The construction of the university campus in what was then a forested area sparked off the urban development of the neighbouring areas.

The wall that surrounds the campus irks Nakhal, it is a physical barrier between the university and the city but, aside from security, the wall has an important symbolic role. It marks a space that is dedicated for learning and the pursuit of knowledge and one in which a different set of rules apply. This separation does not imply lack of concern for the preoccupations of the city dwellers but it creates a distance necessary for critical examination.

Higher education thrives on challenging students’ assumptions and worldviews and on providing them with the critical tools to develop their own thinking and ideas. The contemporary obsession with relevance self-reinforcement is patronising and ultimately counter-productive. Nakhal is echoing not only this contemporary bias but also a certain mindset in Lebanon and the Arab world that is deeply suspicious of ‘alien’ ideas. This rhetoric has traditionally relied on pseudo-Marxist and anti-colonial ideas to justify the insecurity brought about by exposure to modernity at the end of Ottoman rule.

I was not surprised then that Nakhal quoted Frantz Fanon to expose the AUB as the guardian of imperial values: ‘The colonial-bourgeois thinkers in universities persistently uphold essential Western values’. I am not quite sure what those values are, but I think she might be talking about Western concepts like gravity and the laws of thermo-dynamics. They always sounded suspiciously ethno-centric to me. It’s also amusing to hear the resonance of Radio Moscow in the mindless repetition of words like ‘bourgeois’ and ‘colonial’, but let’s not forget that Al-Akhbar’s dedication to the cause of international revolution dictates certain stylistic preferences.

But why the AUB and why now? Why subject the most successful academic institution in Lebanon to this rabid attack? The AUB throve despite severely adverse conditions because of its independence and its dedication to excellence and academic rigour. It works precisely because it was not swallowed up by the Lebanese system and because it managed to fend off the intrusions of the Lebanese ‘groups’ and their lumpish presence. It is elitist in the best sense of the word, creating a space for critical thinking and debate that thousands have enjoyed and benefited from.

Back in the early 90s when I was a student at the AUB, I had to watch the sad spectacle of the great historian Kamal Salibi being rudely forced out of his class by an Amal movement ‘operative’ who was a constant presence on campus. That, and the many assassination and kidnappings that took place on campus, was the consequence of subjecting the AUB to the power of the Lebanese ‘people’ or the thugs that represent them at any rate. Salibi’s fault was that he wasn’t sufficiently moved by whatever grievance that Amal deemed we must all commemorate to stop his class.

But Nakhal seems to be oblivious to this troubled history; if the AUB doesn’t embrace Uncle Deek then it’s committing a sin against our folk. She is particularly affronted that an AUB student mispronounces ‘keshek’, that staple of Lebanese diet that embodies our identity and our customs. I was reminded of the diatribe at the end of Ziad Rahbani’s Shi Fashel in which the folklore creature chides the Lebanese for their sentimental attachment to their traditions and rejection of modernity. Ziad’s sentiments are of course unapologetic: he is against the backwardness represented by this sentimental attachment to our rural past.

Three decades later, Nakhal wants us to embrace this backward heritage and undermine the independence of our greatest seat of learning. Time to celebrate the keshek.

Sects and the City

By Karl Sharro
Republished with permission from Karlremarks

In my post ‘Hariri / Hezbollah: in search of a new division of labour’ I argued that the climate of fear being created in Lebanon today is a noisy background for the upcoming deal that will seal a power-sharing arrangement between the main political camps under a renewed Syrian patronage. I closed that post by saying ‘we, as always, remain as spectators in all of this.’ This isn’t a call for disengagement and cynicism about politics; on the contrary it’s a call for the Lebanese people to reject all the secret deals being made without our participation. But how can we express our political will in this crucial period as we watch the blatant abdication of responsibility by Lebanese leaders?

Firstly, we need to recognise that our current predicament is a product of our inability to banish sectarianism from our political interactions. Sectarianism is not a secondary feature of the Lebanese political system; it’s the main constituent that manifests itself in confessional arrangements. And five years on from the ‘Cedar Revolution’ we need to recognise that the events that followed it have contributed to the strengthening of sectarian leaderships.

It might have seemed at the time that seeing Samir Geagea and Walid Jumblatt together meant that we’ve opened a new chapter in our history. Far from it, the alliances that were created after the assassination of Hariri were explicitly set up as coalitions between sectarian groups. This is as true of the Geagea – Hariri alliance as it is of the Aoun – Hezbollah front. The cumulative effect of all those sectarian arranged marriages was a further erosion of any potential for secular politics. It’s not by coincidence that the assassinations that followed targeted some of the leaders that did not have sectarian affiliations.

Given the centrality and importance of Beirut to national politics, it has increasingly become the main battleground for sectarian confrontations. I don’t mean by that only the skirmishes in ‘mixed’ areas such as the Burj Abi Haidar incident, but the whole range of political manifestations starting with the March 8th and 14th demonstrations to the Riad El-Solh camp to May 7 events. It’s time that we see all those events for what they were: displays of the sectarian power struggles that further eroded any possibility of national unity.

Today we are astoundingly still being asked to choose between the two camps that have contrived to create and sustain a poisonous atmosphere of mistrust and animosity over the past five years. In other words, we are being asked to contribute to our own self-destruction and supply the fuel for the battles that precede settlements between sectarian leaders. Isn’t it time that we reject those offers for assisted suicide?

As a reader observed on my previous post, we should learn the lessons of our history of power-sharing arrangements which had devastating consequences at every juncture. She reminds us that the nation came into being in 1943 on the back of such an arrangement and set a precedent that still prevails until today. She however chose to close with a pessimistic message: “In the midst of this turmoil I prefer to stick to this anecdotal rule -- better bear the repercussions of a divorce rather than live in a household of quarrelling parents.”

But I would rather be optimistic, there’s no point to politics otherwise. Had I been a fan of political theatre, I would have called for us to marsh on Beirut and protest against the cynical attempts at creating an atmosphere of fear and against the deal that will be agreed without our approval. This would be one way to reclaim Beirut and challenge the sectarian hold over our national politics. But I fear that the sectarian machines are much more adept and prepared for those mass displays than the rest of us.

The end of this era of Lebanon’s history is an opportunity to develop alternative forms of politics that are grounded in secularism and aspirations not sectarianism and fear. But while we organise and prepare for that, we should realise that any choices we make between the two camps are inevitably choices between sectarian coalitions. Let’s start by rejecting the calls to choose the least disagreeable option. And, for God’s sake, let’s stop believing the fear scenarios that come straight out of 50s B-movies. You have my personal guarantee; there aren’t 3000 members of Hezbollah with ‘long beards and long nails’ hiding in chalets in Christian areas.

The politically incorrect necktie: on boycotts and secular coercion

 Republished with permission from karlremarks.blogspot. Click on the link for the original article.

Karl Sharro

A Lebanese friend recently revealed on a social networking website that he had bought a tie from Marks and Spencer. This otherwise insignificant revelation provoked a tirade of angry comments from Lebanese vigilantes that chided the irresponsible tie-wearer on his unpatriotic choice of neck wear. Even though I was aware of the M&S boycott policy as being one of the cornerstones of anti-Zionism among the Arab Diaspora, I was taken aback by the intensity of the reaction and people’s willingness to publicly chastise someone simply because of their fashion choices. This militant censoriousness is chiefly practiced by people who regard themselves as ‘secular’, and even liberal, making it much more problematic. It points to the disturbing emergence of a secular piety that is far more insidious than one stemming from a religious worldview.

Before I left for Britain several years ago, I was instructed by several Lebanese friends on the necessity of boycotting M&S because of its ‘support for Israel’. Some assured me that all the profits that it made on Saturdays went directly to the IDF. The blunt way of phrasing the argument insisted that every pound spent in M&S translated into bullets fired at the Palestinians and the Lebanese, and no one would want to live with this burden on their conscience. But aside from the veracity of the claims, which I will come back to, this argument fails to comprehend the reasons for Israel’s military superiority. This superiority is not attained through private and public foreign aid but because Israel is an advanced industrial economy that is capable of developing advanced weapons through a combination of industrial and technological development.

Although Israel receives a large amount of military aid from the US annually, in percentage terms, this aid amounts to just 15% of Israel’s military expenditure. But in parallel, Israel is now one of the largest weapons exporters in the world, with up to two thirds of its weapons production made for export. In fact, Israel exports more than double the amount of US military aid it receives. It’s worth noting that Israeli weapon exports span the full range of military equipment from ammunition to advanced warning systems and drones. By contrast, Arab countries have a very small share of the production and sales of weapons globally, despite the fact that some of them have very large defence expenditure. (Saudi Arabia had the 8th largest military expenditure in the world in 2009 for example.)

Of course the large difference in weapons production between Israel and Arab countries reflects the overall difference in levels of industrialisation and research and development capabilities between them. The notion that Israel’s military capability can be damaged through consumer boycotts in the West is misguided. Of course, most advocates of such boycotts are aware of this, that’s why boycotts are not intended as practical measures but as largely symbolic actions. A consumer boycott can be an easy and convenient way of appeasing one’s conscience and, but it is not a serious political act. But once such behaviour becomes imperative and social pressure is applied to monitor adherence to it, it becomes a form of grassroots authoritarianism that is fundamentally undemocratic in nature. The irony is that the same people who would normally oppose other forms of conformity in Arab societies would voluntarily act as social enforcers in the case of boycotts.

Going back to the claim that all the Saturday takings at Marks & Spencer tills go to the IDF, there is certainly no record of it anywhere. However, activists insist on boycotting Marks & Spencer because it trades with Israel, although its historic position of supporting Israel has been altered in recent years. I am not interested in defending Marks & Spencer, but I find the idea of promoting the Palestinian cause through consumer boycotts in the West seriously flawed. Aside from all arguments on the effectiveness of such boycotts, pretending that complex political problems can be solved through altering consumer behaviour is a perverse notion. The most dangerous aspect of this is that it turns people from active political actors into passive consumers, both of products and of political/ethical choices that are distributed via ‘trusted sources’.

Solidarity has of course played a vital role in the promotion of political causes historically; this is why it is important to understand how the expression of solidarity has altered in recent years in parallel with this shift from active political subjects to passive observers. The international volunteers that participated in the Spanish Civil War left their families and friends behind and fought alongside their republican comrades against the Fascists. This was a conscious and active political choice as opposed to the mundane consumerist choices that we are now told are legitimate expressions of solidarity. I am obviously not asking for people to volunteer in global conflicts today, but asking for a reassessment of what forms of solidarity are politically meaningful. Where you buy your underwear is not one of them.

Beyond solidarity, there is a further dimension to global boycotts that is particularly pertinent to Arab countries. Not doing business with Israel is one thing, but boycotting companies purely on the basis that they do business with Israel is a luxury that the developing economies of the Arab world. The list of companies to be boycotted because of links with Israel has Intel among many others; the consequences of boycotting Intel products will certainly have a severe impact on Arab societies. (That’s why it’s much easier to focus on Marks & Spencer, much like animal rights activists direct their energy against fur instead of leather, on the basis that it’s easier to harass rich old ladies than biker gangs.)

Taking the boycott argument to its logical conclusion reveals the arbitrariness of singling out specific companies. Should we boycott the Western countries that support Israel financially and militarily? Would anyone seriously propose not studying in the US or going on a holiday in the UK? Should we stop using American textbooks and boycott all German cars? If boycotts are not about the actual economic impacts but represent a moral imperative as some insist, then where do we draw the line of responsibility? Why is boycotting Marks & Spencer more morally pressing than the US? It seems to me that pro-boycott activists have taken their cue from another UK retailer: their message seems to be every little helps.

Like it or not, global trade links are so wide and complex today that singling out companies to boycott is impractical. But more importantly, as long as Arab countries remain as net importers of industrial products, as well as technology and knowledge, such boycotts will definitely harm Arab societies more than the intended companies. The international economic sanctions on Iraq that followed its invasion of Kuwait were a stark example of the devastating effect of disengaging from the global economy. I witnessed firsthand the deterioration in Iraqi society during the 90s as a result of the sanctions. Within the space of a decade, one of the most advanced Arab societies was set back several decades. Boycotts are in fact a form of self-imposed economic sanctions.

The advocates of boycotts are of course aware of this. They are not interested in implementing wide-ranging boycotts but in altering individual behaviour and maintaining conformity to a ‘shared’ idea. They insist on those meaningless symbolic gestures as a way of showing commitment to The Cause. But boycott vigilantism is only a symptom of widespread intellectual intolerance. By volunteering to behave like secular coercers, educated and politicised individuals are only contributing to this problem. No just cause will thrive on a climate of intellectual repression. And while we’re at it, let’s keep where we buy our underwear out of public discourse.