Qifa Nabki | A Lebanese Political Blog

BEIRUT, Lebanon — Following a string of breakthroughs in high-profile cases, including busted Israeli spy rings, multi-million dollar drug heists, and uncovered terrorist networks, the Lebanese Internal Security Forces (ISF) have attracted the attention of several Western intelligence agencies and police networks, including Interpol, the FBI, and MI5.

“The cracked-case rate for the ISF this year is very impressive,” said Paulo Cinzetti, director of Interpol’s Eastern Europe division. “What they’ve been able to accomplish in twelve months is just remarkable.”

After years of doing little else besides directing traffic and breaking up late-night bar melees, the ISF is beginning to make its name as a highly effective investigative unit.

Using both sophisticated hi-tech surveillance technology and plain old common sense, the security service captured international attention recently after a major drug bust that brought the ISF into close coordination with some of the world’s most famous investigative agencies.

“They’re street-smart and creative,” said Bill Schlitz, of the FBI’s overseas narcotics intelligence task force. “Some of the techniques that they’re using are so simple that you want to smack your forehead and say, ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’”

The ISF is highly protective of its secrets, but outside observers were given a glimpse of its inner workings a few months ago when the organization admitted to using linked-laptop computing to track calls made on encypted cell phones. At the same time, however, detectives relied on the time-worn tools of the trade, such as magnifying glasses, fingerprint dusters, and fake moustaches.

The successes have prompted Geert van der Veer, head of Interpol for the Middle East and North Africa, to dub the ISF “Beirut Yard,” a reference to the famed investigative division of Britain’s metropolitan police, Scotland Yard.

In response to requests for assistance from security agencies around the world, sources say that the ISF also recently assembled a top-secret task force of traveling investigators that worked behind the scenes to help uncover some of the year’s biggest crimes.

“The Bernie Madoff Ponzi scheme would never have been discovered if it weren’t for Lebanese detectives,” says Sally Hanson, a spokeswoman for the FBI. “We were totally in the dark until they came along.”

Building on its successes, the ISF has also evidently put together a division dedicated to “historical cases” that went cold years ago.

Mazen Siblini, a senior detective with the agency, mused that historical crimes present the most challenges. “Actually, this is why we are attracted to them. Other crimes, your murders, your drug rings, your spy networks, these are, how do you say… elementary?” Siblini chuckled, smoking a pipe behind his desk at ISF HQ.

When pressed for details on the kinds of cases that the historical crimes division was looking into, Siblini’s eyes twinkled.

“Well, obviously, our work is confidential. But  I can tell you that some very interesting information in connection with the assassination of a certain Catholic American president will soon be coming to light,” he said, giggling happily. “Also, we may have discovered the body of a certain Detroit trade unionist, so keep an eye out for that.”

When asked if any case was too cold to be cracked by the ISF, Siblibi was circumspect. “Well, I’d say that it becomes more difficult the further back you go. For example, we currently have some very good leads on the curious incident of the disappearance of the dinosaurs, but it has been a tricky case indeed.”

As for the most difficult case on the ISF’s unsolved list, Siblini left no room for doubt: “The toughest case is unquestionably the question of what came first, the chicken or the egg.” Staring out the window with a far off look in his eyes, Siblini confessed to a very personal attachment to the case.

“I’m determined to crack it before I retire from the service, or else I fear that I will never be able to get a full night’s sleep for the rest of my life.”

By Qifa Nabki

An MEA Airbus touches down, bearing hundreds of passengers with tickets paid for by Nabih Berri.

Even before the results of last month’s parliamentary election were announced, there was a great deal of discussion in the media about the money being spent to fly thousands of Lebanese home to vote. This, we were told, was a massive operation, costing millions of dollars, and resulted in anywhere between 60,000 to 120,000 additional voters going to the polls on election day.

The good folks at Information International — a market research firm led by Jawad Adra — have published a very interesting article in the latest issue of their superb magazine, The Monthly (whose blog can be found here), which argues that the number of Lebanese flown home to vote did not exceed 48,000, a still significant figure. You can read the article here (pdf).

But wait!

In response to the article in The Monthly, a second study was carried out by the Beirut-based actuarial services firm i.e. Muhanna & co, which reached a final figure of around 25,000 people. Read the original article above and then the second study below.

PS: I have been advised that worthy comments in the discussion section may prompt one or both authors to revise their conclusions prior to publishing a third joint study in one of the Beirut dailies, and perhaps also in the August edition of The Monthly. Therefore, qifanabki.com readers, do me proud.

Analysis by i.e. Muhanna & co (actuarial services)

An MEA Concorde above the clouds, carrying dozens of passengers with tickets paid for by Saad al-Hariri.

In the July 2009 issue of the Lebanese magazine The Monthly, Information International – a leading polling and market research firm based in Beirut – published a study of the number of Lebanese flown in from abroad to vote in the parliamentary elections.

Using arrival and departure data from Beirut International Airport (BIA) for the two weeks prior to the election and comparing it to similar data drawn from the past two years, the study concluded that current estimates of 60,000 or 120,000 expatriate voters are exaggerated. A more plausible number, the study argues, is around 48,000 voters, still a significant figure.

The methodology used to determine the number of expatriate voters flown is fairly simple. The study examines the number of visitors to arrive in Lebanon during the two week period of May 25-June 7 in the years 2007 and 2008 in order to project the number of visitors that would have arrived in 2009 under ordinary conditions – i.e., with no elections being held. The difference between this figure and the actual number of arrivals during the pre-election period in 2009 is equivalent to the likely number of expatriate voters.

While the Information International study helps to shed light on the debate about expatriate voters, the analysis of airport traffic might be supplemented by further data to arrive at a more precise conclusion. An advanced model was created by i.e. Muhanna & co (actuarial services) for this particular purpose. The model led to two adjustments needed before any comparison could be made:

• In May 2008, clashes erupted between various armed groups throughout Lebanon and forced the closure of the airport for two weeks. Therefore, the travel data from that month is significantly depressed and unsuitable for comparative purposes. However, if one compares the travel data for the first four months of 2008 with the data for the first four months of 2007, one finds that arrivals through BIA rose by 5% from 2007 to 2008. Therefore, it is possible to estimate a projected “no airport closure” figure for travel in May 2008 by multiplying the May 2007 figure by 105%. This process leads to an upward adjustment of the actual May 2008 figure by 32%.

• June 2008 experienced a major increase in arrivals, most likely the result of a “rebound effect” following the two-week airport closure during the previous month. Therefore, the travel data from that month is slightly inflated and unsuitable for comparative purposes. Indeed, if one compares the travel data for the month of June 2008 with the data of June 2007, one finds that arrivals through BIA in June rose by 42% from 2007 to 2008. Hence, the June 2008 this figure needs to be smoothed downward, namely by 11%, in order to harmonize it with the average growth rate for the second half of the year 2008.

When one repeats the same comparative analysis for 2009 – i.e. comparing the total number of arrivals in the first four months of 2008 to the same period in 2009 – one finds an average increase of 26% (as opposed to the 5% increase from 2007 to 2008 for the same period), while the annual increase for the year 2008 compared to 2007 is 9%. Using trend analysis technique, we note that the net increase (i.e., with no elections being held) for the months of May and June 2009 would be 26%.

Applying this 26% increase to the data from May and June 2008 allows us to arrive at a projected “no-election” figure for airport traffic in May and June 2009.

Comparing the “no election” projected figures for the two week period immediately preceding the election with the actual figures; one arrives at an “election-related” increase of 25,000 arrivals, which is significantly less than even the Information International projection of 48,000.

An MEA space shuttle arrives in Beirut, carrying several extraterrestrials with tickets paid for by Walid Jumblatt.

It should be noted that this figure of 25,000 covers all travelers, including non-Lebanese, minors, as well as Lebanese citizens who may not have been registered to vote. Furthermore, given the high degree of international interest in the election and the increased presence of foreign officials – election observers and experts, diplomats, security personnel, and journalists – it is likely that a significant proportion of the 25,000 additional travelers were not Lebanese. Finally, this figure does not distinguish between Lebanese who purchased their own tickets to Lebanon and those who were flown in by a political party, and does not include the number of expatriate Lebanese who entered Lebanon by land.

On the other hand, however, it is impossible to determine how many people among the normal quota (i.e. the “no-election” figure) of May and June travelers were flown back to vote. Given that many Lebanese expatriates return home to Lebanon every year for summer holidays, it is entirely possible that many who were planning to purchase their own tickets to visit Lebanon in May or June decided to capitalize on the offer of free travel, and had their tickets purchased by a political party. In other words, while there may have only been an increase of 25,000 travelers for the pre-election period, this does not mean that tens of thousands of people among the regularly traveling population were not provided free travel to vote. Therefore, the question of how many people had their tickets paid for by a political party will remain a mystery even to the most sophisticated actuarial modeling tool.

LONDON, England — As Iran’s leadership looks to shore up its legitimacy following a controversial presidential election held last month, reports have emerged that a top European marketing firm was recently hired by the Iranian regime to help re-brand its image.

With condemnation of the brutal crackdown against street protesters pouring in from around the world, sources say that President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad discreetly authorized Cromwell Kurtz — a world-renowned marketing/public relations consultancy with headquarters in London — to prepare a series of proposals designed to improve Iran’s reputation overseas.

According to Cromwell Kurtz executives, however, the campaign never actually saw the light of day, due to the “unresponsiveness” of the Ahmadinejad administration to re-branding initiatives.

“We put together what we think was a really great set of ideas,” says Ian Ransom, a vice-president at the firm. “But in the end, they just weren’t ready to pull the trigger.”

Mr. Ransom says that the campaign’s strategy was essentially geared around “softening out some of the rough edges,” and helping Iran to project a less threatening persona without sacrificing its own true identity.

“We came to them and said, ‘Hey, why not consider changing your name back to Persia? The current name — the Islamic Republic of Iran — brings to mind 1979, the hostage crisis, Khomeini, all kinds of unpleasant associations,” explained Mr. Ransom.

“On the other hand, the name ‘Persia’ is fantastic. When you hear Persia, what do you think? Persian carpets, Persian kittens… it’s just a friendlier, more welcoming vibe.”

A similar approach was brought to bear on the titles of Iran’s public figures. “These are the officials who are constantly in the news, so you want to make sure that they convey competence and gravitas, ” says Skip Richmond, a creative manager at Cromwell Kurtz.

“Take Khamenei, for example. Does he really need to be called the ‘Supreme Leader’? Why not something a little more modern, like Chief Spiritual Officer? Or Celestial Attaché?”

Mr. Richmond told The Qnion all of these names were rejected, as were the proposals to re-brand the “Council of the Guardians”, a powerful group of clerics who play an important role in the Iranian government.

“Council of the Guardians? I mean, come on… what is this? The Lord of the Rings?” chuckled Mr. Ransom.

“These are major policy-makers in a country with sixty-five million people. Referring to them as “clerics” doesn’t exactly inspire investor confidence,” he said, adding, “It makes it sound like Iranian fiscal policy is being set by Roderick the Alchemist and Ali the All-Night Apothecary.”

Rosalind Smythe, a Cromwell Kurtz wardrobe consultant says that the company also tried to delicately suggest to the Ayatollah not to frown so much and wear black all the time.

“He looks a little bit like the Grim Reaper,” said Ms. Smythe. “Compare him to the Dalai Lama. Technically, he’s a Supreme Leader too, right? But he’s always smiling, laughing, having a great time. And his outfits are much cheerier.”

“We suggested that Mr. Khamenei try a kind of cornflower blue robe with a vermillion sash, to get the white in his beard to really pop,” said Serge Torres, Ms. Smythe’s assistant. “He wasn’t so into it.”

Cromwell Kurtz executives say that they have not heard from Mr. Ahmadinejad’s administration ever since the project collapsed, but they remain optimistic that the contract will eventually be renewed.

“The Persian regime is going through a tough time right now,” says Mr. Ransom. “But I’m confident that when they get out of the tunnel, we’ll hear from them again.”

By Qifa Nabki

As long as there’s hardly anything to talk about in Lebanese politics, allow me to gripe about another subject close to my heart, namely children’s literature written in Lebanese Arabic.

Here’s the problem: there isn’t any.

As most of you know, I spent the last academic year living in Beirut, writing my dissertation. Part of the reasoning behind this move was to expose my two year-old daughter to a lot more Arabic than she was hearing in Boston, and as I could have worked on my thesis from just about anywhere, I decided that spending my research year in Lebanon — near family and friends — made good sense.

My daughter L. is a bibliophile. Having inherited my wife’s superb memory and amazing attention for detail, she seems to have learned by heart several shelves worth of books, to the extent that if I stop mid-sentence in any one of them, she’ll gently goad me on by completing the sentence. The kid loves books, and one of my goals for the year was to introduce her to a whole new set, written in Arabic.

As I quickly discovered, however, the vast majority of children’s books to be found in Beirut (one of the region’s publishing capitals) are written in Modern Standard Arabic (fuṣḥā), the prestige dialect of the language (used in virtually all kinds of writing [newspapers, books, magazines], TV news programs, etc., but not in everyday speech.) Children’s books are treated like all other literature and therefore written in the standard language, a fact which seems — in my view — to militate against a child developing a love of books.

Let me make one thing clear: I am not one of those neo-Phoenician anti-fuṣḥā crusaders that seem to be so prevalent among the Lebanese. I do not advocate dumping Modern Standard Arabic altogether and replacing it with some kind of Sa’id `Aql-inspired vernacular alphabet. After all, I’m currently in the process of earning a doctorate in classical Arabic literature and Islamic studies… I would not have spent years studying a language and literature that I secretly loathe and would like to see sink into oblivion.

However, that being said, I simply don’t feel that MSA is all that well suited to children’s books. When I made this point to various bewildered booksellers in Beirut, the standard response was: “But if you read to them in Lebanese, how do you expect them to learn real Arabic?” To which my response has always been: “Why does it have to be a matter of either/or?” Setting aside the issue of anti-vernacular chauvinism (a subject for a different post), I don’t see why kids can’t be trusted to learn MSA even while enjoying having books read to them in colloquial Lebanese.

Here’s the basic problem. To a child’s ear, MSA sounds like what it is: a formal language that people don’t use in everyday speech. It is a language that has to be learned in school, not like the mother tongue that kids grow up speaking. As a result, children’s books written in fuṣḥā have a way of sounding antiquated at best, when read aloud. The immediacy, vividness, and general “at-home” quality that one feels in one’s own mother tongue is, to a large part, lost in MSA, unless one has devoted years to reading, writing, and developing fluency within it.

Trying to interest a kid in a story where vocabulary items for many common everyday objects are entirely different, and in which the language has an almost foreign feel to it is an uphill battle. Whereas L.’s English books instantly draw her into their world — the way all great books do — with characters who talk like her even as they teach her new phrases and expressions, the Arabic books I tried to read her failed to have the same effect.

That is, until I began to “translate” them back into colloquial Lebanese from MSA. Suddenly, a light seemed to go on and she was instantly interested in the plot and characters. I distinctly remember the first time that happened: I was reading her a book about a little girl’s visit to the doctor’s office, which was, of course, written in MSA. Here’s an attempt at an English equivalent:

Forsooth didst the nayward damsel alight upon the threshold of the quacksalver’s vestibule … A panic came upon her ‘ere her mother didst coax her forward, dreading the prick of the misprised instrument…

Ok, it’s not that bad, but you get the idea. There was very little in the original text that my daughter could relate to, and so it was no wonder that she was not interested in it until I translated it into a language that she could actually understand.

I’m not sure where I was going with this post, but perhaps other folks have some suggestions for good reading material (or, for that matter, good children’s TV programs in colloquial Lebanese).

Tomorrow, back to politics.

Update

(Comment from Joumana Medlej, an author of children’s books):

“A friend linked me to your post, asking if I knew of any… I can completely relate to your feelings and I for one would have read more Arabic books as a child if they hadn’t been in this trudging fus7a that still gives me a headache. That said, being co-author of children’s books that get translated into Arabic, I had to look again at why that was. For our particular case, the nonfiction contents don’t really lend themselves to daily speech, and since neither of us can write Arabic with sufficient proficiency, we left it to the translators and didn’t question their choice. Beyond that though I can vouch for how very difficult it is to write Lebanese with the Arabic script. Even the simplest texts (e.g. I’m translating another project, my comic book, into Leb) present dilemma upon dilemma. Do you write the qaf, or do you substitute a hamza? And so on. It’s an interesting challenge for the conceptually minded, but I expect even those authors who would consider writing in 3ammiya may feel Arabic that has a standardized spelling may be the safest route after all. Especially when you hit upon economics. It’s hard enough to sell Arabic language books – Lebanese who read avoid Arabic (or perhaps they do so because it is all fus7a) and the rest of the Arab world doesn’t seem to read (this from personal experience and from people who’ve worked in publication for a while). With fus7a there’s at least a possibility of a book spreading outside Lebanese borders. Finally, how many publishers in this part of the world take children readers seriously? We started making books because there were no local children’s books worth picking up. Things are getting better, but we’re still way behind.

I’m sharing this to try and explain the current situation, but I would like nothing more than for a change of attitude towards spoken Lebanese and an increased use of it in print. For me, I’m (modestly) starting with the comic book, but parents such as yourself can express these feelings to publishers. If they realize there is a demand for this, the business sense will kick in… Funnily it’s the one thing that trumps politics around here.”

(Comment from PN, a regular reader):

“I highly recommend the storybook series Silsilat Hikayat Walad min Beirut (Stories of a Child from Beirut) by Mr. Samah Idriss (publisher of al-Aadaab magazine)… Mr. Idriss wrote these books for his 2 daughters since he faced the same dilemma while living in the US. He uses a nice mix of MSA and colloquial Lebanese to draft fun and light stories. They maybe a bit early for 2-yr old L, but if she is really good with books, she may enjoy them. Our favorite is the story about Koussa bil laban (the Zuchini story); it is very much Lebanese.”

We’ve entered the third week of deliberations over Lebanon’s next cabinet lineup, and there is no end in sight. Hariri has paid more house calls than a 19th century doctor in typhoid season, and yet for all we know, there isn’t even agreement on the most basic issues, like the number of ministers accorded to each side.

This is not entirely the  fault of one man or one party or one coalition. Consider the various matrices that Hariri is operating with. In most parliamentary democracies, the goal of the ruling party is typically to form a government with the smallest possible coalition that can gain the confidence of the legislative chamber.

In Lebanon’s case, the goal is to form a government with the largest possible coalition without completely crippling the executive branch through perpetual veto-enforced gridlock. It’s not pretty, but this is the solution that everyone is committed to this time around.

Add to this opening principle a variety of other distributional conventions and you have  a recipe for a very complicated process indeed. For example, the cabinet is typically supposed to be split equally between Christians and Muslims. Furthermore, Maronites, Sunnis, and Shiites are usually given the same share each. In a thirty-member cabinet, this would mean that there would have to be 15 Christians (e.g., 6 Maronites and 9 non-Maronites) and 15 Muslims (e.g., 6 Sunnis, 6 Shiites, and 3 Druzes).

Before you can go about parceling out seats, however, you need to know how many each coalition is going to get. Here we run into the old veto issue. Hariri is negotiating different opposition demands, ranging from Aoun and Frangieh’s request for full proportional representation (which would amount to 45% of the cabinet or 13 ministers), to a simple veto share (11 seats), to Hizbullah and Amal’s constructive ambiguity (which is presumably open to a 10 seat share along with certain “guarantees” in the cabinet declaration.)

Finally, there is the issue of foreign interests. Syria would like its allies to have a veto share and would like it even better if Hariri came to Damascus before announcing the cabinet (highly unlikely indeed). The Saudis would like to reserve as much power for M14, but there have been rumblings about a possible opening to Damascus as a means of drawing it back into the Arab fold. Given the number of square pegs awaiting insertion into round holes, where does a novice PM-designate even begin?

The formula most talked about is the so-called 15-10-5 split (for M14, M8, and the President, respectively), which has a certain elegance about it. For legislation on ordinary issues, M14 would not be able to push through its agenda without help from the President’s ministers, a fact that would seem to strengthen the President’s role as a true consensual figure, and not just a symbolic one.

At the same time, the opposition would not be able to block legislation on the “issues of national importance” that require a cabinet supermajority, without the help of the president as well. His ministers would represent the crucial swing vote.

If Hariri were to pursue this option, how would he parcel out the opposition’s share of 10 seats? My guess is that he’s planning to split them equally between Aoun’s Change & Reform Bloc and Hizbullah/Amal. Why? Let’s look at the numbers.

March 14 won 71 seats in the 128-seat parliament, which translates to 55%. March 8 won the remaining 45%. If we were to adopt General Aoun’s proposal that the cabinet lineup reflect the parliamentary balance, this would mean that M14 would get 17 seats in a 30 member cabinet and M8 would get 13. Of course, such an alignment would give the opposition its desired one-third-plus-one cabinet veto, which Hariri and co. would like to avoid, so full proportional represetation is out of the question for them. However, partial proportional representation may be the silver bullet.

According to the most generous calculation, Aoun’s Change & Reform Bloc won 28 seats in parliament (if you count Marada, Tashnaq, and the Wahdet al-Jabal Bloc [Talal Arslan, Bilal Farhat, Fadi A`war, and Naji Gharios]) or 21.9%. This share would represent 7 cabinet seats (6.56 to be exact) under a proportional scheme. Given that Hizbullah has routinely expressed its inclination to give up its own cabinet share to its electoral allies, this would permit Hariri to satisfy Aoun and Frangieh’s proportional demand without giving the opposition as a whole a blocking veto. Six or seven seats for Change & Reform plus three seats for Berri would seem to do the trick. No veto, but a face-saving exit for Aoun and Frangieh, and perhaps also a way for Hariri to begin mending fences with the FPM. Of course, it’s unlikely that Berri will agree to having only 3 seats compared to Aoun’s 7, but that’s their problem, not Hariri’s.

Aoun’s lieutenants have been uncharacteristically supportive of Hariri in recent days (Bassil: “We have an interest in the success of Saad Hariri”) and so this is perhaps what they are angling for with the insistence on proportional representation.

One way or the other, we should know in, oh… maybe another six months.

BEIRUT, Lebanon — With 2 million tourists forecasted to visit Lebanon this year — providing this troubled and cash-strapped Mediterranean country with much needed tax revenue to pay off its enormous $50 billion public debt — government officials are doing their best to clean up Beirut’s reputation as an unstable and dangerous city, in an effort to woo even more summer visitors.

After sectarian clashes erupted last week following the designation of a prominent Sunni leader as Prime Minister, various political parties began calling for demilitarizing Beirut and transforming it into a “safe city”.

Nonviolence activist Rana Karam says that “various civil society organizations have been promoting such an initiative for years, and it finally looks like the project is getting some traction.”

Interior Minister Ziad Baroud has further proposed putting more policemen on the streets in an effort to alleviate Beirut’s chronic traffic problems, and has also asked drivers to refrain from honking their horns while in traffic.

“If you look at most cities in Europe and the United States, you see that there are severe fines for honking your car horn if there is no urgent need to do so,” said Baroud spokesman Fadi Antabli. “In Lebanon, people honk their horn while they are sitting in traffic, just out of frustration. And then others join in, and pretty soon the entire avenue is honking. This is a very bad habit that the Interior Ministry is trying to change.”

In addition to cracking down on flagrant honkers, the ministry has also been enforcing some other image-enhancing initiatives. “We’ve asked restaurant owners not to serve as much garlic alongside their grilled meat dishes as they normally do,” said Antabli. “Foreigners — especially northern and western Europeans — are not used to these quantities of garlic, and we want to ensure that tourists are not put off by bad breath as they tour our historic sites.”

Tourism Minister Elie Marouni announced a few similar initiatives last week, aimed at maximizing tourist comfort. “We are asking all Lebanese men between the ages of 18 and 65 to keep their shirts buttoned up as close to the neck as possible, minimizing the amount of chest hair spill-out,” said Marouni’s spokeswoman Nada Feghali. “Also, taxi drivers are kindly asked to trim their pinky finger nails, or, at the very least, to refrain from using them as Q-Tips.”

Also, in a joint project sponsored by the Ministries of the Environment, Energy, and Tourism, a nationwide publicity campaign was launched last month aiming to educate Lebanese on how to respond to tourists when asked about the deep electricity rationing.

“If somebody asks you why the power goes out every day for several hours, just say that this is Lebanon’s effort to “go green” and combat global warming,” says the smiling TV presenter in a series of advertisements.

Early signs suggest that these initiatives may be working. Tourists surveyed upon leaving Beirut have consistently remarked upon the “minty breath” of the Lebanese and their deep eco-conciousness.

“I think it’s just wonderful that they are so committed to recycling,” said Fran Newhouse, an American woman visiting Lebanon for the first time from Minnesota. “I mean, that enormous mountain of recycled bottles and cans outside of Saida is just amazing. I hope the Greenpeace ship comes soon and takes all the recycled materials away so that the Lebanese can have their beach back. Heaven knows, they deserve it.”

By Qifa Nabki

Michael Young had an excellent op-ed in yesterday’s Daily Star about the dangerous course charted by Lebanon’s Christian leaders, particularly the young Sami Gemayel. I’ve disagreed with some of Young’s writings before in these pages, but I think that he is consistently among the most astute observers of Christian politics in Lebanon. Those who airily dismiss his articles as M14 propaganda would do well to read this critique of Gemayel’s isolationist politics. Here are the key paragraphs:

“An alarming number of Maronites today appear to have lost any sense of the collective nature of the Lebanese state. The Aounists, Sami Gemayel, Nadim Gemayel, even Sleiman Franjieh, have shown an inability to come to grips with the sectarian contract of 1943, the National Pact, and its successor, the Taif Accord. Taif is the real culprit to them, documentary proof of Christian decline – a decline they have all received with bitterness, even if their responses have differed.

“For the Aounists, Taif handed Maronite power to the Sunnis, hence their effort to reverse this by allying themselves with another rural community, the Shiites, to regain what was lost. For people like Sami Gemayel, the solution lies in greater Christian unanimity against the outside, which when you peel away the layers is really just a strategy bound to enhance Christian isolation. For Franjieh and not a few Aounists, the way out is through an alliance of minorities, with the Alawites in Syria and the Shiites in Lebanon, against the Sunni majority in the Middle East. Each of these notions is foolish in itself, an avenue toward communal suicide, and all have one thing in common: antagonism toward the Sunni community.

“There is no small amount of historical irony, and hypocrisy, here. For decades the Maronites took pride in saying that they were the true defenders of “Lebanon first.” Now that the Sunnis have adopted the slogan as their own, too many Maronites have reacted as if this were a threat to the Lebanese entity because Sunnis are extensions of an Arab majority. Ultimately, the message this sends is that the Maronites only defended a “Lebanon first” option when the Lebanon in question was one they dominated. Now that the community feels it is losing ground, the preference is for Christians to envelope themselves in a tight defensive shell.

“When Sami Gemayel speaks about the Christians “being stepped upon,” what does he mean? This is the language of demagoguery, and in some respects of war. Who has stepped on the Christians? Judging by Gemayel’s actions and statements, the simple answer is “the Muslims” whoever that may be. Yet being stepped upon is a very different concept than accepting the reality of Christian numerical regression. It is very different than grasping that Taif, the hated Taif, hands Christians representation well beyond their real numbers. When one feels stepped upon, the world looks like the bottom of a shoe, and it becomes very difficult to follow a sensible path away from one’s resentments.”

I agree with Young’s analysis. Listening to some of these Christian leaders — on both sides of the political divide — I often catch myself thinking: “What chutzpah!” Is it arrogance or naïveté (or a blend of both) that permits one to complain about the weakened powers of the presidency after Ta’if? In what sense is it reasonable to imagine that Lebanon could be governed today solely by a powerful Maronite president, when the Christians, as a whole, represent a minority of the population?

I recall meeting with Alain Aoun (Michel’s nephew) a few months ago, and discussing different potential electoral laws. He was a little bit cagey about what kind of law would be the FPM’s ideal formula, and when I pointed this out to him, he replied: “Well, obviously, we feel strongly about a law that maximizes the number of Christian politicans voted in by Christian voters.” I replied by asking him how this squared with the FPM’s purported desire to dismantle political confessionalism. His answer was revealing, particularly because of its subtle self-contradiction: “Yes of course the FPM’s goal is to bring about a nonconfessional state. By why not try to do this from a position of strength?”

Come again?

The notion of a “Third Republic” is not, in and of itself, a bad idea. But the problem with the FPM’s Third Republic was that it did not address the most crucial part of it — deconfessionalism — in a detailed enough fashion. March 14′s Christian leaders, on the other hand, have offered no meaningful discourse on this issue whatsoever, beyond support for administrative decentralization.

The current historical moment represents a rare window of opportunity for Lebanon. With the various foreign “sponsor” states seemingly recalibrating their relationships with the country as a result of a larger geopolitical reshuffling of power relations, a space has been opened up for a new grand bargain to be struck, or an old grand bargain to have its vows renewed (and fulfilled). However, the shared strategy of Lebanon’s Christian leaders — circling the wagons only to fight one another within a self-imposed confessional corral — does not inspire confidence in the future.

No, this is not a Qnion headline. There is apparently so little happening in Lebanon these days that Naharnet has decided to investigate an invasion of Israeli spy parachutes. Here’s the report:

Parachute-like objects lit up the sky above southern Lebanon overnight in what appeared to be a new Israeli spy method.

Security reports said a “shining object” resembling a gas cylinder fell over the southern village of Nmaireh around 10:30pm Monday and another over Zafta in the Nabatiyeh province.

Security forces rushed to the scene and went straight into on a fact-finding mission to find out the truth about these objects.

The daily An-Nahar on Tuesday described the parachute-like objects as a “new kind of Israeli espionage war on Lebanon.”

It said Israel has been recently dropping these objects over the mountainous terrain of southern Lebanon and near residential houses.

Al-Akhbar newspaper, however, quoted local sources as saying the object over Zafta was likely a meteor that fell from the sky or an Israeli parachute or even a spy device.

But security sources said the object could be an “explosive arrow” that was shot from a nearby location.

So, just to be clear… is it raining meteors, gas cylinders, parachutes, explosive arrows, or spy satellites?

Determined to shed light on this issue, we dispatched two of The Qnion’s crack investigative reporters — Jacob Tafnis and Bala Manyakeh — down to the southern village of Abu Tanjara to interview some eyewitnesses. The village mayor, Muhsin Ayyach, was one of several people to get a close look at the object.

“It was about ten meters across, shaped like a huge saucer. And there were many flashing lights,” said Ayyach, pointing in the direction of the field where the strange object landed.

“My brother and I got our Kalashnikovs and then walked up to it carefully. When we were about fifteen meters away, a door opened up and three little green men walked out. One of them walked right up to us and said something like: ‘Take me to your leader.’ That was when I was sure that he was an Israeli.”

Muhsin’s brother, Bilal, confirmed the story. “We didn’t know what to do, so we just started firing our guns. But the bullets didn’t seem to hurt the little green men. They were protected by some kind of… how do you call it? Force field?”

When the brothers Ayyach were questioned by the security forces, they were asked whether they believed it was possible that the little green men could have been extraterrestrials.

“No way,” said Muhsin. “They may have looked like Martians, but they were definitely Israelis.”

Prominent members of Lebanon’s parliamentary majority and opposition have expressed displeasure at the prospect of a Syrian-Saudi effort to determine the composition of Lebanon’s next government. Everyone from Michel Aoun to Walid Jumblatt to Naim Qassem to Amin Gemayel have spoken out against the idea of Saad al-Hariri handing over the reins of power to the Syrians and the Saudis, arguing that the formation of the cabinet should be up to the Lebanese alone.

A noble idea perhaps, but how realistic is the dream of Lebanese sovereignty? Not very, says the latest evidence unearthed by the muckraking masterminds here at The Qnion. Loyal readers, I give you the transcript of a top secret meeting held in Riyadh between PM-designate Saad al-Hariri, King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia, and President Bashar al-Asad of Syria.

Remember, you read it here first!

**

[Scene: The royal reception room at one of King Abdullah's palaces; Riyadh, Saudi Arabia]

Hariri: Your Excellency!

King Abdullah: Saad!

Hariri: I’ve missed you so much! How is everything?

King Abdullah: Splendid, my boy! We’ve missed you around here too. It’s been, what… ten days since your last visit?

Hariri: Has it really been that long? God, it felt like an absolute eternity…

King Abdullah: Well, the important thing is that you’re home. I mean, ahh, well, what I meant to say was…

Hariri: (uncomfortable) Ahem, yes… ummm

King Abdullah: … Make yourself at home! That’s what I meant.

Hariri: Yes of course.

King Abdullah: Saad, come over here, I’d like to introduce you to President Bashar al-Asad of Syria.

Bashar: Greetings Sheikh Saad. Congratulations on your appointment! I’m sure your father would have been very proud.

Hariri: (gritting his teeth) Yes. Thank you. Pleased to meet you. Finally.

Bashar: Wow, is it me or is it unbearably hot in here?

King Abdullah: We have the royal air conditioners on at full blast, but this is Riyadh you know, heh heh. Not quite as balmy and breezy as lovely Syria, that’s for sure.

Bashar: No kidding. I suppose it’s also perhaps a bit worse for me as I am slightly taller than both of you.

King Abdullah & Hariri: (nodding uncomfortably)

Bashar: You know, they say that heat rises, and given that I’m… what? A good foot and a half taller? It probably makes a difference.

King Abdullah: (annoyed) I don’t think you’re that much taller, Mr. President. Maybe a few inches.

Bashar: No, I do think that my shoulders are taller than your head, Your Highness. That is to say, I’m head and shoulders above you, ha ha. Physically speaking, of course.

King Abdullah: (straining to smile) Ok ok, I get it…

Bashar: I mean, I’m not saying that you’re half as tall as me, or anything, ha ha ha…

King Abdullah: No, no, I understand…

Bashar: Maybe if you stood on this little brown table with the mother-of-pearl inlay, you’d be as tall as me. Wait a minute… I have a table just like this in my reception room too!

King Abdullah: No way!

Bashar: I’m serious! Exactly like it.

Hariri: Me too! Come to think of it, so does every other Arab leader that I’ve ever visited. Huh.

Bashar: Well, they’re so useful, you know? Like, when you’re meeting with other world leaders, and stuff. Ideal place to put your coffee.

Hariri: Exactly. It’s like the perfect size. Not too big…

Bashar: (finishing his sentence) …but not too small! Exactly! Plus they’re just tasteful. Not too showy, and the craftsmanship is just fabulous.

King Abdullah: Totally. Oh my God, what a crazy coincidence! Anyway, where were we?

Hariri: We were about to discuss the Lebanese cabinet formation.

King Abdullah: Right.

Hariri: Now, in view of the fact that March 14 won the election fair and square, and that there is absolutely no constitutional basis for anything like a cabinet veto for the opposition, I believe that it is more than fair that…

King Abdullah: Ah, Saad?

Hariri: … we give the opposition absolutely no more than…

King Abdullah: Saad?

Hariri: … which is already more than one could expect under the…

King Abdullah: Saad!!!

Hariri: Yes sir! Sorry, you were saying?

King Abdullah: President Bashar has a proposal.

Bashar: Thanks, Your Excellency. Saad, this folder contains a list of helpful suggestions that King Abdullah and I came up with, just as a way to… you know, help you complete the cabinet formation process as easily as possible. Give it a read on your way home to Beirut tonight. You might find it useful.

Hariri: (opening the folder) Umm…

King Abdullah: That’s right, Saad. We just want the best for Lebanon, and given that this is your first time as Prime Minister…

Bashar: (smiling) And hopefully not your last.

King Abdullah: Ahem…

Bashar: That came out all wrong. What I meant was…

King Abdullah: Never mind. Just read what’s in that folder, Saad, and brainstorm it. By yourself.

Hariri: (incredulous) But… these aren’t suggestions. (Pulling out a single sheet of paper from the folder.) There’s just a list of ministerial portfolios with names attached to them!

Bashar: Like I said,these are some suggestions designed to help grease the wheels, so to speak.

Hariri: (frantic) And if I refuse? This is unacceptable! It’s blackmail! Lebanon is an independent country!

King Abdullah: There, there. No need to get upset. Sleep on it and call me in the morning.

Bashar: We’re sure you’ll come to the right decision.

Hariri: (steaming) Alright. I’ll be in touch. (Storms out)

King Abdullah: (To Bashar) Don’t worry. He’ll be fine.

Bashar: Do I look worried? God damn it, it’s hot up here.

King Abdullah: Just shut the hell up, ok?

Bashar: Sorry. Couldn’t resist.

King Abdullah: Freak of nature… What do they grow in Damascus, magic beans?

Bashar: (snickers) Something like that…

By QIFA NABKI

Nawah Zoaiter, one of Lebanon's most powerful drug barons, is on the run from the authorities. Mitchell Prothero/The National

Mitch Prothero has a must-read piece in The National about the fascinating intersections of drug trafficking, organized crime, and age-old tribal revenge politics in Lebanon’s Beqaa valley. Here’s a selection:

To illustrate the far-reaching influence of the families, the officer recounted a story that started 10 years ago when a member of the Internal Security Forces (ISF) working in Baalbak killed a member of the Jafaar family during a demonstration.

Fearing the Jafaar’s vengeance, the ISF immediately ordered the officer transferred to the Lebanese Embassy in Paris. A year later, Lebanese intelligence received a warning from their French counterparts that the Jafaar family had found the officer and the French were tracking a team of assassins who had arrived in Paris to kill him.

After recalling the man to Lebanon, changing his name and posting him to the police headquarters in the mostly Sunni city of Tripoli, where the Shiite Jafaar would have the least capability for revenge, people forgot about the case for a few years.

“The family later found out the man was working in the Serail in Tripoli and called in perhaps the only Jafaar family member with a job in the ISF,” the intelligence officer recalled. “The boy was ordered to demand a transfer to Tripoli or to find a way to visit the building. Once inside, he went to the office, calmly shot the officer to death and walked downstairs to be put in jail. I interrogated the boy, he didn’t want to do it. But his family and tribal pressure to avenge this death from years before was too much. He had no choice as a member of the Jafaar clan.”

I remember asking my eighty-two year old grandfather about all of the violence between the Beqaa clans and the army last spring. He thought for a moment and then replied: “When I was  a boy growing up in Deir al-Ahmar, the Jaafar and Zoaiter clans were always at each others throats. Somebody would get caught stealing sheep or there would be some kind of scandal, and they would immediately start shooting each other up. Nobody from the government ever dared to interfere.”

He paused, got a wistful look in his eyes, and then said: “Except, sometimes, someone would call for the men of our village to come down and break up the fighting. And so our men would walk down to the valley, with only rifles on their shoulders, in a single file straight into the village where the feud was taking place. They would walk right into the line of fire, and suddenly, the fight would end.”

Somebody needs to give the LAF a call and tell them to stop bothering with RPG’s, counter-intelligence, and body armor. Just give the boys from Deir al-Ahmar a call, and we could have all of this cleared up by dinnertime.