Qifa Nabki | A Lebanese Political Blog

Sources are reporting that the new American ambassador to Damascus will be Robert Ford, former ambassador to Algeria and current deputy ambassador to Iraq.

It’s funny: I was having tea with an NPR journalist yesterday afternoon and we were remarking on the fact that we still have no inkling of what the Obama Administration’s Syria policy is. For all we know, there is no policy… especially if they can’t decide whether or not to appoint an ambassador to Syria. Well, maybe I was wrong.

In other news, there seems to have been some confusion regarding the identity of one Ali Tajeddine who was a victim on the tragic Ethiopian Airlines crash last week. Some have suggested that this was the wealthy Shiite businessman by the same name whose purchases of land north of the Litani caused some controversy back in 2007. Here’s an excerpt from a piece by Nick Blanford in the Christian Science Monitor from back then:

For the past year, Ali Tajiddine, a Shiite businessman who traded diamonds in West Africa before branching into property development and construction, has been snapping up vast tracts of land in the district from impoverished Christian and Druze property holders.

…

Walid Jumblatt, leader of Lebanon’s Druze and arch foe of Hizbullah, says that the land is being purchased with Iranian funds delivered to Hizbullah and disbursed by Tajiddine. Tajiddine’s connections to Hizbullah are widely known locally in south Lebanon. One of his relatives was arrested in Antwerp, Belgium, in May 2003 in a case involving diamonds from West Africa and suspected money laundering on behalf of Hizbullah.

(For more conspiracy theories involving real estate, Jumblatt, and Hizbullah, see here.)

Anyway, the point of bringing all of this up is to say that the Ali Tajeddine killed on the Ethiopian Airlines crash was not the same Ali Tajeddine who was buying up land. According to the Lebanese National News Agency, the crash victim was born on March 4, 1979, which would have made him almost 31 years old. A journalist friend of mine who has interviewed the businessman Ali Tajeddine tells me that he is definitely older than 31, so it’s not the same guy.

Those rushing to interpret the crash as a big blow to Hizbullah financing should take this into consideration. (Although the Hassan Tajeddine who was killed was in fact the Hassan Tajeddine).

Click image to download IFES report on electoral systems (highly useful).

A friend of mine recently drew my attention to the fact that the ministerial statement (al-bayan al-wizari) of Saad al-Hariri’s government contains a surprising clause: a commitment to begin developing a new electoral law for the 2013 parliamentary elections within the next eighteen months (see article no. 20) It’s not clear to me how binding this commitment is or whether Parliament can really pressure the cabinet in any way if they don’t deliver a new draft law by June of 2011, but there is officially supposed to be a re-visitation of the issue of electoral reform.

Unfortunately, there is very little understanding of what kinds of electoral systems exist, what kinds of outcomes different systems tend to produce, and what kinds of measures are necessary to implement them.

This doesn’t mean that there is a lack of rhetoric on the issue. Take, for example, Christian parties like the Lebanese Forces, the Kata’eb, and (some elements within) the Free Patriotic Movement. These groups tend to support the idea of small (even single-seat) districts where candidates are elected on a majoritarian basis (as they are, for example, in the U.S. House of Representatives and the U.K. House of Commons). Parties like AMAL and Hezbollah, on the other hand, have called for a single national district with candidates elected according to proportional representation (as is found, among other places, in Israel.)

These two systems are diametrically opposed. They represent two extreme poles on a wide spectrum of electoral systems. One would think that, given the differences in the two models and the forms of government that they engender, a public debate might have emerged by now, exposing the merits and drawbacks of both sides. Of course, no such debate has really emerged, and the reason for this, I believe, is that most people (including politicians) don’t really get electoral systems. Until quite recently, neither did I, and I’m still figuring them out.

But guess what? It’s your lucky day. The International Foundation for Electoral Systems (IFES) has graciously allowed me to publish a report that explains, in a clear and concise manner, some of the basic principles of different electoral systems and their implications for Lebanon. I’ve seen no better short presentation of these issues that is specifically geared to the Lebanese context, so I highly urge you to download it (it’s in PDF), read it carefully, and come back and tell us all which system you’d like to see instituted.

Update: This report by Matt Nash is highly worth reading. It breaks down the numbers behind the proposal to lower the voting age to 18. If you’re curious about how many of the 18-21 year-olds belong to which sect, this report provides the figures presented by Rabi` al-Habr’s company (Statistics International).

(The scene: A Beirut cafe)

Abu Michel: Did you hear that they’re trying to lower the voting age to 18?

Abu Samir: Of course. What a ridiculous idea.

Abu Michel: What do 18 year-olds know about anything?

Abu Samir: When I was 18, I was still a child.

Abu Michel: And the 18 year-olds these days? They’re even more immature, with their video games and their internets.

Abu Samir: Well, I’m glad that Hakim has been very clear on this point. He will not accept lowering the voting age unless they also allow Lebanese emigrants abroad to vote absentee.

Abu Michel: What do you mean “Hakim has been very clear”? El-General has been even clearer!

Abu Samir: So we see eye-to-eye…

Abu Michel: Absolutely.

Abu Samir: I have soooo many relatives living outside Lebanon. If they could vote, the entire picture would change.

Abu Michel: I have so many as well. Dozens!

Abu Samir: Hundreds!

Abu Michel: Thousands!

Abu Samir: Fourteen million! That’s the number of Lebanese living in the diaspora.

Abu Michel: I heard it was more like twenty million!

Abu Samir: Whatever the number is, it’s a lot ya zalameh. And they’re mostly Christian. Why do you think the Berris and Hariris and Jumblatts don’t want to let them vote?

Abu Michel: Absolutely. Look at Carlos Slim. Richest man in the world. Lebanese.

Abu Samir: (smiling) Not just Lebanese. Maronite.

Abu Michel: (smiling) Naturally. And I’m sure that Mr. Slim would love to vote in the municipal elections here in Lebanon. But noooooo, what do Berri and Hariri say?

Abu Samir: (sarcastic voice) “He’s been away too long… he’s never been to Lebanon… his father left when he was 14… he doesn’t even speak Arabic…” Give me a break! Once a Lebanese, always a Lebanese!

Abu Michel: Exactly! He has a right to vote in his ancestral municipality, even if he’s never stepped foot in it!

Abu Samir: Hell, I’ve never even been to my municipality either! We were registered erroneously in Akkar two generations ago and we’ve never been able to change it!

Abu Michel: Me too! I’ve never been to West Bekaa, but do you think that’s going to prevent me from impacting the lives of the poor schmucks who do live out there?

Abu Samir: Exactly! And so if it’s good enough for us, why shouldn’t it be good enough for Carlos Slim?

Abu Michel: And Shakira!

Abu Samir: Yasmine Bleeth!

Abu Michel: Salma Hayek!

Abu Samir: Keanu Reeves!

Abu Michel: Tiffany!

Abu Samir: And that hot chick who plays the Czech student in American Pie!

Abu Michel: You see? There are so many expatriate Christians… I mean, umm, Lebanese… who should not be deprived of their right to vote.

Abu Samir: I couldn’t agree more. Plus, if we let them vote in our elections, maybe they’ll finally start taking an interest in Lebanese affairs.

Abu Michel: Good point. If there’s one thing that Lebanon needs, it’s foreigners taking an interest in Lebanese affairs.

Abu Samir: Pass the sugar.

**

Thanks are due to the talented Maya Zankoul for the illustrations. To see previous collaborations between QN and Maya, click here.

While I was in Beirut last week, I stopped by the final lecture of The Beirut Exchange (a two-week program organized by Mideastwire twice a year, in which college and masters students get to meet various political bigwigs and study Arabic).

If you’re at all interested in Middle East politics, and Lebanon in particular, I’d consider checking this out. This year’s program included sit-downs with President Suleiman, Michel Aoun, Walid Jumblatt, Nawwaf Mousawi, Hassan Fadlallah, Nicholas Blanford, Paul Salem, Rami Khoury, and many other luminaries of the Beirut political scene. Nick Noe, who runs the program, tells me that they’re also considering setting up a separate branch in Syria in the near future, and perhaps farther afield as well.

Here’s a story about the program in as-Safir and here’s the advertisement for the June program (pdf).

Here are two parking stories, both of which I encountered today within a few hours of each other.

**

While getting my head shaved at my favorite barber, H., this evening in Beirut, I learned that he had just been in a fight with the owner of the shop next door. The fight began as an argument over a parking spot, but soon escalated into a brawl. The local neighborhood boys quickly came out of the woodwork, hustling to H’s defense, but by then he had already gotten the better of his adversary and sent him packing.

As I sat in the chair, my head covered in shaving foam, H. received one phone call after another from people who had heard about the fight and were trying to mediate between the two men. My barber, who is typically a very mild-mannered man, spent half an hour shouting into the telephone, vowing to bring the world down upon the guy’s head if he dared to say a word about parking ever again. There were threats veiled and direct, and mentions of aquaintances with itchy trigger-fingers.

As he fumed and spouted, the phone tucked into the crook of his shoulder, H continued shaving. His hands remained as steady as ever and the straight blade didn’t so much as tremble as he scraped it over my scalp. I sat still and sipped my coffee.

**

Earlier in the day, my grandmother told me that she’d gotten a call from a police officer a few months back. My aunt was visiting at the time, and she answered the phone. Here’s the conversation, as my grandmother told it:

Aunt: Allo?

Officer: Marhaba.

Aunt: Marhabtein.

Officer: May I please speak with Umm Ibrahim?  

Aunt: Who’s speaking?

Officer: I’m calling from Maghfar Hbeish.

Aunt: I’m her daughter. Can I help you?

Officer: Yes, it seems your mother hasn’t paid a parking ticket in Hamra for six months.

Aunt: That’s impossible. She never travels to Hamra.

Officer: Well, we have a record here of a ticket for a car registered in her name. The license plate is 1234567.

Aunt: Oh, I see. There’s been a mistake. She sold that car five years ago. The current owner is responsible, not my mother.

Officer: Well, I’m afraid she’ll have to come down to the station to clear it up.

Aunt: What? She’s an old woman! And she lives in the mountains! She can’t come all the way down to the police station in Beirut.

Officer: She’s an old woman? What year was she born?

Aunt: 1932.

Officer: 1932?! Let me speak to her.

Aunt: Hold on. Mama! Come speak to the police.

(My grandmother shuffles to the phone)

Grandmother: Hello?

Officer: What are you still doing driving at your age?

Grandmother: Well, I…

Officer: Stop driving! You’re too old!

Grandmother: Ok, I’ll stop. But what about the ticket?

Officer: Don’t worry about it. I’m tearing it up, and I’m going to write down that the owner of the car is dead.

Grandmother: Thanks, ya habibi. I appreciate it.

Officer: Wa law, ya Sittna? Have a nice day.

Grandmother: Thanks. Goodbye.