The
students stopped attending classes halfway through October to attend mass demonstrations.
Many academic staff staged a brief strike in support. Foreign students packed
their bags and went home, as did numerous Lebanese students with families
outside Beirut. The rest of the semester was on-and-off as the place vacillated
between being a functioning university and a drop-in-when-you-feel-like-it venue
for students bothering to grace us with their presence. Academics were exhorted
by the senior administration to be ‘flexible’ with regard to course delivery
and assessment.
So what was
all the fuss about? That there has long been dissatisfaction with the Lebanese political
elite is old hat. They are regarded as largely ineffective – parliament is in a
state of perpetual paralysis and the legislative chamber is empty much of the
time – and corrupt. Fortunately, the
Lebanese system of governance is based on the Napoleonic model in which there
is a strong separation of powers between the legislature and the executive
branches (cf. the English model in
which the two are closely linked); a well-organised bureaucracy actually runs
the place whether there are bums on parliamentary seats or not. One of the
jokes I have been known to crack with students is to suggest that we pay
parliamentarians to not attend
parliament as the country appears to run better when they don’t. I’ve never had
anyone objecting to that sagely advice.
The PM
resigned in late October but that wasn’t enough for the protestors. They
clamoured for a complete overhaul of the Lebanese governmental system. In the
meantime, they demanded that a group of technocrats be assembled to put the
economy to rights, the country being on the verge of bankruptcy. The
shenanigans on the streets prompted the banks to close their doors and provided
the excuse they needed to cut back drastically on converting Lebanese Lira into
US dollars in the face of the looming currency crisis: the Lira is pegged to
the US dollar and is inconvertible outside, putting great strain on dwindling
USD reserves. Businesses started buying dollars on the black market to pay for
goods from abroad. Expatriates with regular overseas payments to meet such as
mortgages hit the panic button.
Things
started to get nasty with some opposing anti-government and pro-government mobs
throwing stones at one another and engaging in fisticuffs sometimes
supplemented with crude weapons such as hunks of wood and metal bars when the
police couldn’t keep them apart. However, numbers began dropping off and by the
time the BBC announced a general strike in late November the ‘revolution’ (as
many demonstrators called it) had lost so much steam that this action did not
materialise. When I asked a Lebanese co-worker about it, she fixed that ‘you
dumbo’ look upon me and said, “It’s the end of the month – payday. People want
to collect their salaries.” Well, you can’t do that if your employer has shut
down because you’re on strike, can you now.
As Xmas
approached, the protestors’ enthusiasm appeared to revitalise somewhat. But the
patience of the police was running out and the riot squad was called out when
demonstrators tried to reoccupy the square near parliament buildings in
mid-December. Injuries began to mount, but compared with the parallel uprisings
in Iraq, it was a teddy bears’ picnic. The cold and wet conditions that then kicked
in dampened the protestors’ ardour more than did any teargas or baton charges.
Trying to
change the governmental structure of Lebanon presents a daunting challenge. A
bit of background may be useful here.
Lebanese
society is organised along sectarian community lines. There are 18 recognised
sectarian groups. People vote for parliamentary representatives within those,
using a formula for the distribution of seats based on the relative populations
of the various sectarian communities (a bit iffy given that the last national
census was in 1932, but let’s not be pedantic). Constitutional arrangements
have it that the President of the Republic must be a Maronite Christian, the Prime
Minister a Sunni Muslim, and the Speaker a Shia Muslim.
After the
civil war from 1975 to 1989, an agreement called the Taif Accord was drawn up
devolving a lot of power in civil matters to the sectarian communities. For
instance, there are effectively 18 sets of laws pertaining to marriage and
related matters such as inheritance and divorce. (This creates a problem for
couples who do not belong to the same sectarian community as there is no such
thing as civil marriage in Lebanon – such couples usually go to Cyprus to tie
the knot.)
There has
long been a movement advocating a secular governmental structure (referred to
by the French term ‘laïque’). That would have been the way to go in 1990 but
the Taif Accord, despite conciliatory noises to the contrary, took the country
in the opposite direction. The sectarian system of governance is firmly
entrenched. It also explains much of the active interest regional powers show
in Lebanon’s internal affairs through sectarian political groupings. The
country is part of the so-called ‘Shia Crescent’ (see my article ‘Yemen and
Islam’s internecine war’, Breaking Views
1 April 2015) through the Iranian-backed Hezbollah, while the Saudis pull a lot
of the strings at senior governmental level – recall the furore the year before
last about the Lebanese PM being detained in Riyadh.
“Protesters defy
police brutality” said one international news outlet.
I wouldn’t mind being
‘defied’ like that…
Geopolitical
actors outside the region also exhibit more than a cursory interest in what
happens in this most Westernised of Middle Eastern countries. Lebanon can draw
on a lot of ‘sentimental capital’ in Europe, especially in France relations
with which go back to the time of the Crusades and which was entrusted by the
League of Nations to guide Lebanon towards independence under the mandate
system following WW1. Lebanon continues to feature as a vital cog in US Middle
Eastern policy.
The
American influence is profound, especially among the higher social classes – North
America is the main destination for the on-going Lebanese diaspora. One of the
paradoxes that caught my attention when I first came here 15 years ago is that
many francophone Lebanese send their kids to francophone schools where many sit
the French as well as Lebanese Baccalauréat and then make a sideways shift to
an elite American private university – the American University of Beirut or the
Lebanese American University – despite there being a world-class francophone
university on their doorstep (Université St-Joseph).
In my
opinion, this ‘revolution’ isn’t going anywhere. Calls for a fundamental restructuring
of the governmental system are pie-in-the sky stuff. Hezbollah formed a liaison
with the principal Maronite Christian political grouping several years ago, producing
a formidable power block which will take an awful lot of shifting. There are
too many vested interests at stake, both external and internal – and it’s
ultimately the former ones that call the shots. There are delicate equilibria
the upsetting of which could be catastrophic for the country and have
wide-ranging regional ripple effects. For the foreseeable future, poor little
Lebanon will just have to stagger on as it has done since the day of its
illusory independence in 1943. Being the meat in the sandwich isn’t the ideal
situation to be in, but there are worse ways to go – as other countries in the
region bear ample witness to.
Of more
immediate concern is the crumbling economy. Imports of wheat flour, fuel and
pharmaceuticals can still be paid for using the fixed exchange rate of just
over 1500 Lira to the US dollar, but it’s anyone’s guess how long the current
situation can continue – the black market exchange rate is now well over 2000.
Incomes are modest – the minimum wage rate of 750,000 Lira/month doesn’t get
people with dependents very far (and it’s not exactly rigorously enforced
anyway – many people work for less). Once ordinary people start really feeling
the pinch, it might transpire that there’s more than one kind of ‘revolution’
and the next one might not look so much like a street party.
Barend Vlaardingerbroek BA, BSc,
BEdSt, PGDipLaws, MAppSc, PhD is an associate professor of education at the
American University of Beirut and is a regular commentator on social and
political issues. Feedback welcome at bv00@aub.edu.lb
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