Shadi Mawlawi: The Most Famous Man in Lebanon Today

He has a Facebook account!

Observations from his account are as follows:

1 – His username is chadoudeh. No clue what that means but it’s very unsalafist, in my opinion.

2 – He “likes” so many Arabic pages my eyes immediately lost focus. Facebook is not equipped for this. He is a fan of KFC & Masters Chips though – I guess he likes junk food.

3 – He’s “friends” with MP Mohammad Kabbara. I’m not sure if that’s the MP’s official account or someone faking it.

4 – He likes Osama Ben Laden. Duh!

5 – He wants to become a martyr. 

6 – He is one of the “moujahidin” who want to free up the Islamic world from blasphemy and tyranny.

7 – His taste in books and movies is not very eclectic.

8 – He went to a Christian school… but turned out to be a salafist anyway. Let’s come up with new Salafism-preventing theories.

His brother called him a “normal citizen.” With the arrest of this “normal citizen” the whole city of Tripoli was ignited and civil strife became a threat. This “normal citizen” thing is going around a lot lately, don’t you think? I’ve seen it way too many times in different sides of the political spectrum. I shall deem the condition a disease – normal citizenitis is the name. Let’s try to find a cure where no one is above the law, regardless of what they might or might not have done.

 

10 Things Lebanese Do When Chaos Strikes in Lebanon

This is a cycle that we go through every time something happens in Lebanon that is out of the ordinary. These unLebanese things happen at a rate of once or twice per year and we tend to forget them a week after they’re over.

Without further ado, this is what Lebanese do whenever chaos erupts in our beloved country:

1 – Vow not to vote for either March 8 or March 14 ever again. Both of them are ruining the country.

2 – Start posting Facebook statuses about how horrible Lebanon is.

3 – Depending on political stance, observations about the situation will be made. And everyone is correct. Don’t try to tell them otherwise.

4 – Change Facebook profile pictures to express sympathy and change things because pictures are sure catalysts for change.

5 – Lebanese memes about the situation will surface. The most recent one? “Wa2ta tkoun Trablos wel3ane, enta mamnou3 tentefe” – Buzz ripoff anyone?

6 – Levels of empathy will surge. Chaos struck in region X? We’re all region X. Of course, odds are few knew what region X was a day earlier.

7 – Call up schools and universities with fingers crossed to ask if there are classes the following day, while sounding distressed for credibility’s sake.

8 – Some will panic about anything. Blame their “PTSD” from previous events. Others will pretend to be fierce… because they roll like that.

9 – Start making jokes about the situation because it’s very appropriate.

10 – Between the aforementioned 9 points, proceed with life as if nothing’s happening because odds are you being affected are next to nul – despite your mother telling you to stay home. 

Saad Hariri and Twitter: A Story Filled With Mistakes

When Saad Hariri first went on Twitter, many were hoping he’d use the platform productively to enhance his political career, which has been sitting on the back burner for the past few months as he globe-trotted his away around everywhere except Lebanon.

But a series of mistakes, the last two of which are only a few of days apart, have gotten many – myself included – to wonder whether it was really wise for Mr. Hariri to join the social networking platform.

In January, Hariri said good morning to an Israeli government spokesperson. Either he didn’t know who that person is or he knew and still said good morning, which in both cases is worrying: the former because it shows a certain political ignorance; the latter because it would open a Pandora’s box that Lebanon is obviously not ready for.

On May 10th, Hariri got into a useless Twitter debacle with a brainwashed pro-FPM twitter user who has been constantly barraging him. The aim of the anti-Hariri person was clear: to provoke the former prime minister. Hariri caved in. However, instead of replying in a way that a former prime minster should, Hariri’s reply was straight out of a teenager’s handbook. Of course, Tayyar.org were more than happy to flaunt this around, useless as they may be as a news-website.

On May 13th, soon after the Tripoli events erupted, a Twitter user had the following conversation with Saad Hariri:

Not only is Mr. Hariri’s argument non-sensical, but it’s also offensive to every single Lebanese who has been killed or assassinated before his father and after him. I wrote on February 14th about how the memory of that day is being milked into nothingness. This only supports my idea.

Does Rafic Hariri’s murder have anything to do with the events taking place in Tripoli? Absolutely not. Is it honorable to bring in Rafic Hariri’s memory – regardless of what you thought of him – into this debate? Of course not. Does it make up a remotely acceptable argument or reply? Definitely not.

I know many people who are disappointed by the way Hariri is handling things on the ground and more tangibly on Twitter. This only serves to reinforce that. Some have even said they’ve lost their respect for the man. While I haven’t reached that extent yet, Saad Hariri is getting dangerously close. Whenever he pretends as if Rafic Hariri is the only person to be assassinated in Lebanon, I boil on the inside. I think about the many people who have died before him, starting with presidents to students, and the many journalists and politicians that died after him, leading up to the many that lost their lives in various Tripoli-related events, culminating in today’s turmoils. Then I ask myself: if a politician thinks the blood of his father is more precious than the collective of lives that have been lost in the same fight his father died for, how can I trust such a politician to run my country? How can I trust him to keep a level-head, even if it’s just a twitter conversation?

I believe Mr. Hariri’s stay outside the country has gotten very out of sync with Lebanon and it shows on Twitter not only through his replies but through his stances. Tripoli is a city where Hariri has many voters, most of whom he will need in a year to win, and he is supporting the people who are wrecking the city just to free up one man. By not condemning the salafists, the head of the moderate Sunni party in Lebanon is supporting them. If that’s not a recipe for disaster, I don’t know what is.

Perhaps Hariri should hire a PR team to run his social media presence. It would save both himself and his supporters some trouble by doing what other Lebanese politicians do. However, if he insits he wants to keep his interaction with the people going he needs to learn to double check any response he sends out on various levels: political correctness, appropriateness and most importantly whether it befits someone of his status.

Why I’m Against Proportional Representation (Nesbiyé) in Lebanon’s 2013 Elections

One of the main debates going on in the country currently is regarding the 2013 electoral law, mainly whether to include proportional representation in it or not.

Politicians’ views are already diverging on the matter and they break down to the following:

– Walid Jumblat: Against. He wouldn’t be totally dominant over the Druze vote and would lose a decent amount of his influence.

– Saad Hariri: Against. While he’s not as affected by this representation-wise as Jumblat, his stance has varied from being supportive of proportional representation to against it solely because he wants to bring Jumblat to his side for the elections.

– Hezbollah: With. They get about 90% of the Shiite votes in elections, which is where they have candidates. 90% in the proportional representation law would give them all the seats with very minimal effect. It’s a win-win situation for them so why not demand Lebanon as one district with proportional representation to have bigger gains across the map?

– Michel Aoun: With. Why wouldn’t he approve of something that would make him benefit from all the votes of the party mentioned above?

– Samir Geagea: No idea. He has made arguments than can go both ways so his stance regarding this matter hasn’t been fully formulated yet.

One of my main problems with proportional representation is that it is thought of as the cure to our system when it is far from being the case. Many believe that applying “nesbiyé” in the 2013 elections will start decreasing sectarianism by having different people from certain sects getting representation.

In order to do that, the electoral districts being thought of are getting increasingly bigger. Some are even suggesting to make Lebanon one whole electoral district. The argument? This is the only political elections where the population gets to vote so why not get the whole country to vote for everyone?

The way I see it an MP is a representative of their corresponding region first and foremost. Increasing electoral districts to make “nesbiyé” work will not lead to better representation. Or is it “representation” only when certain parties that wouldn’t dream of a parliament seat get one even if they don’t represent the woes of a region? Does a citizen from Beirut know what are my concerns as a citizen from Batroun? I don’t think so. Do I know what are the concerns of my friend in the South? Absolutely not.

What gives me the right to choose their MP and them mine? The sake of national unity? Please.

And for those who believe districts should be medium-sized, say according to the mohafaza – what do people in Batroun know about what a caza like Koura needs? What do people in Zgharta know about the demands of people in Bsharre?

When during parliamentary sessions an MP talks about his district as his main focus, you know this is what they represent not the whole country as we so gullibly want to believe. And it is definitely their right. The whole idea that we, as a country, need everyone to vote for everyone in order to reach unity is non-sensical. You don’t see it happening anywhere else in the world that a country votes for all the MPs its parliament has.

Let’s talk about how practical applying nesbiyé would be. I, in Batroun, get 2 MPs. In the 2009 elections, the margin for those who won was 53%-47%, which in a nesbiyé-equipped scenario means that the result wouldn’t be 2-0 but 1-1. Is that a representation of the will of the caza? Definitely not. Of course, applying proportional representation means Batroun would be merged with other districts, which brings me back to the point I mentioned previously. In reality, most cazas don’t have an overflow of MPs they get to vote to.

It is here that I have to ask: what’s the point of people voting and giving someone a majority when everyone gets to power either way? When I vote for someone and against another person, that means I do not want that person to represent me. If the results of my district turn out to be in my favor and the person who lost ends up in office anyway, then what’s the whole point of elections to begin with?

Moreover, in the current state Lebanon is finding itself today, especially with armed parties swaying the balance of power, would nesbiyé truly be fair, as it’s alluded to be, for parties that don’t have weapons?

In the current form of sectarian Lebanon today, when all sects except Christians give a majority that cannot be contested to one specific party, wouldn’t proportional representation with bigger districts dilute the Christian vote to a point of irrelevance as we’ve seen, for instance, in the 2000 and 2005 elections in certain districts?

In a country where division is based on sects and regions, any law will be accused of increasing either tension. The 2009 law is blamed for increasing sectarianism. We say that because we love to hide and pretend as if our regions are not a mass aggregation of people from one specific sect when, in fact, the only reason we look at the 2009 law negatively is because the results it brought about was a collection of people who couldn’t rule to begin with and others who don’t know how to rule.

Just take a look at a map of Lebanon and you’ll see exactly how one-colored most regions are. This is a demographically situation, not an electoral one.

No, proportional representation is not bad, as some politicians are saying, because it increases Syrian influence in Lebanon. Proportional representation is bad because it’s so ill-timed it is nowhere near the solution it is made out to be. It can only possibly work with bigger circumscriptions, and everything aside, this is an inherent flaw that cannot be ignored. It can only work when the political system of the country is not a disproportionate sectarian representation to begin with. It can only work when the main parties that will make part of it have, at least, some varying degrees of equal influence. When not everyone is fundamentally on equal footing, you can’t have a law that equalizes them in voting booths.

Children Fighters in Lebanon? Yes, Please.

The kevlar vest is strapped. The mask is on. The riffle is on his side. His voice hasn’t even cracked yet.

I never thought I’d see such a thing in Lebanon. I thought that, despite the poverty in some regions, such a thing was impossible to happen. I guess I was optimistic to the point of foolishness.

The boy stands tall, proud of what he’s doing. This is perhaps the most troubling thing about the events taking place in Tripoli.

Brainwashed? Yes.

Brain-fried? Yes.

Brain-dead? Yes.

Does this little boy have a future ahead? Perhaps. But his chances are decreasing with every bullet he fires out of the riffle. And with three people dead in Tripoli so far, I guess those chances are very slim now.

If this is not enough reason to quickly and overwhelmingly contain the extremists in Tripoli, I don’t know what is.