Grandstand. Lebanon, as we knew it, no longer exists. We need as much lucidity to take note of its collapse as we need to conceive of it otherwise. This implies, of course, a part of renunciation, but above all a much higher dose of hope and commitment.
With one in three children going to bed hungry, Lebanon is a country that is suffering, at the heart of a region in upheaval. The collapse of the Lebanese currency symbolizes one of the most violent economic failures of the modern world. Worse, it is over the long term that the future of the country is lost: emigration, which has become an exodus, today threatens the very existence of Lebanon and its ability to recover.
But the root of the problem is political: beyond corruption, it is the inability of this system to find the way to collective decision-making that paralyzes our institutions. The ruling class has traded a so-called “consensual” democracy for a sclerotic system of tribal bargaining. This is the fundamental message that emerged from the October 2019 uprising, this euphoric parenthesis where an entire generation rose up to exorcise the demons of the past. Ignoring social, denominational and geographical barriers, she has, for months, and like never before, proved that a Lebanese nation could take shape. Admittedly, the parenthesis closed too quickly: by making the cynical bet of immobility and decay, the forces of the counter-revolution seem to have won a battle.
Civic harmony rather than civil discord
We must also recognize some responsibility for this temporary failure. Just say: “Kellon yaane kellon” (“All, that is to say all”) by pointing very precisely to the objective alliance of the clan chiefs, it is to be satisfied with a truth that puts you to sleep. There is another, more cruel, but also more tonic, which engages us all. It implies that to get rid of “them”, we do what we have to do: clarify the objective, unite, transform potential into leverage. Accept to be less pretentious about what we are, and more ambitious about what we can be. Who are we, the Lebanese? What do we want?
This was already the question I asked myself six years ago, when, coming from the diaspora, I decided to leave my position as a consultant in the Gulf to come to Lebanon and take over the management of The Orient-The Day. My mission consisted in consolidating its role of counter-power in a critical period for the Lebanese press. If this fight remains essential, it is now time for me to get involved in another way: by helping my compatriots to regain power from those who confiscated it. This has never seemed so fundamental and ridiculous at the same time. Why would you want to try when all seems lost? The answer that comes to me is simple: how can one resign oneself before having tried everything? This paradox, which arises to varying degrees in all lives, each person who engages in Lebanon is confronted with it.
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