Lebanese resistance (Phalangists) on its 50 years of existence

Lebanese resistance - no, the other one - the one that was birthed (supposedly) by the onset of the war 50 years ago (April 13, 1975). Well, guess what they are celebrating this in the Ain el Roumaneh - Chiyah stadium with the slogan "our cause is resistance, our project is Lebanon". Well, interestingly, we have heard this from different factions standing on different sides of the fault line, but hey, it is catchy and it impresses people. The statue depicted in the ad is for the Phalangists in the Ain el Roumaneh - Chiyah (here). I am not sure, but the statue is done from empty shells, if these go back to the time of war or not is beyond me. Faint traces of the statue online indicate it was done by artist Sami Hatem.

Kafa - using tactics which make little sense

Well, that rubbed a lot of people the wrong way.

First, before anyone telling me I am being biased. There is a big difference between Labneh w Jebneh  (for reference check here) and between the ad above. The other was funny, it made you look, was very tongue-in-cheek, the Kafa ad uses tactics used by the nation bordering us on the south used to scare people prior to bombing. So using such post-colonial pseudo-terrorist ads basically fostered by - what technically is still - our enemy, is not exactly a smart move Kafa no matter the intentions (which I am sure are originally good). Sometimes, one really, really needs to read the room before issuing ads.

Small update on Facebook, the ad was eliminated and a long, long notice was put instead - which instead of simply apologizing it goes on a diatribe of justification. You know Kafa, sometimes admitting a mistake goes far enough...

My crystal ball applies only to advertising

Part of my installation "No Truce in Beirut, Only Virgins" (here)

Recently I wrote a post, "Jours tranquilles a Beyrouth" (here), and here we are right in the middle of back-to-school Lebanon is again, in the throws of war. Strangely, whenever the geopolitical situation gets testy or bleak, I have - relatively a lot of people - asking me "so, what do you think will happen?". Not sure if my infinite advertising wisdom of knowing what is inside advertisers' head however extends to politics or conflicts. Funnily, the late Andre Leon Talley - here - used to say he can see the images on the mood board of designers in the collection and know their influences, oddly, I can do the same to advertisers - my immense back catalog both in my brain and my archive can immediately spot which previous ad influenced them, but I digress. 

And now? Now no idea. The Iranian embassy was very clear (here). Revenge will happen. Was this the promised revenge - either from Hizbollah or the Iranians - I know not. All I know that we are again, very close to an all out war. The international press is all over this, each covering it from its biased angle (spare me the fair and free reporting lie). But does this influence anything on the ground? No, it does not. The field equation is separate from pundits.

Each side is now claiming the "damage was minimal" or "operation was a total success" (both sides are, as Hizbollah has caught up, if not bypassed, Israel in terms of mastering propaganda - not just to their loyal public but to the world at large). I have no possibility or clue of checking either claim - as I said, the press is covering it in a very biased way. 

Is this the beginning of an all-out regional war or is this an increase in skirmishes from both sides? Either way, I know not. My crystal ball seems to apply to advertising more than anything else.

Jours tranquilles a Beyrouth...

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

So here we are, again.

Waiting, in Beirut once more.

The title of this post is borrowed from the book by David Hury and Nathalie Bontems (Nathalie is a lovely character if there ever one, and no I am not going to tell you about the state of the villa in Harissa. Sigh). You can still find their book here. 

I did say it before (here for example) "A long time ago (in 2008) and in an interview with a Swedish newspaper, I said "Beirut is like a snake, it needs to shed its skin periodically" - not caring who or what it hurts in the process." But at some point - and even if the myth of Beirut having been destroyed and rebuilt seven times has been debunked and is not correct - one gets tired of being in an exoskeleton.

And now it is the waiting, once more. And this, I said, prior (here).
… And the bombings over Beirut intensified, and I found myself…
Strange how some statements seem ageless and dateless, as if their only reference is simply their own being. The above could have taken place anytime between 1975 and 1990, then sporadically – yet recurrently – after that, although choosing 1996 and 2006 would give a better statistical opportunity of be dead on. Excuse the pun. It seemed the same as saying “the sun rises”, a benign statement with no implications whatsoever in the grand scheme of things, a mechanic, repetitive act – a little like sex when the initial impulse of the discovery of the other’s body has gone.

I envy those who can still play this mental game, ad infinitum. Personally, when I add everything I am going through over and above this, I feel simply tired. If this post seems like rehashing old sayings, maybe, just maybe, because we are now in the same old places and times.

And now we are commemorating the war again...

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

In case you have been living under a rock, Lebanon is having a... challenging week (yes, again). You can go elsewhere for all the details. Suffice to say the Christian quarters seem to feel targeted again. Interestingly, what's with the engrained paranoia they have (I say they and not we as I feel un-paranoid) they are taking aim in their revenge on every moving entity that seems to be Syrian - haphazardly, without discrimination.

Kind reminder: when the Syrian forces entered Lebanon, Christians (read that Phalangists) welcomed them by throwing rice on them on the Nahr El Kalb tunnel. But memory - as with politics - is very fickle. And painting everyone with large (as in very large) brushstrokes only makes things worse. Maybe, just maybe, we should go micro rather than macro. Look at Hussam. He comes and cleans my house every fortnight. He has three kids. Works 5 different jobs to pay his rent, send his children to school, and put food on the table. When Easter came about 2 weeks ago he sent me a whatsapp greeting along with - not an Easter bunny photo or anything - but a proper Religious imagery (note that he was fasting for Ramadan at the time!).

And yet here we are again. Stereotyping and putting everything and everyone under a large parasol - neither Hussam nor Ibtissam (whom I met as a lovely vendor in a store) nor Manar were the perpetrators of the tragic events that occurred in Lebanon recently (with all my respect for the late Pascal Suleiman and my understanding that his abduction and killing were indeed very unacceptable). 

And now what? Are we still on the Ain El Roumaneh bus? Are we still passengers in that journey to nowhere? Did we not learn anything? I have a deep feeling we did not. And of course, economic issues do nothing but exacerbate this - in times of political and economic downturns people turn to what they know. And tribalism in all its shapes is what Lebanese know.

Above, in the imagery is the license plate of the Fargo Ain El Roumaneh bus which ignited - or rather was the final straw that ignited - the war in Lebanon on April 13, 1975. I do hope we are wiser at this point because certainly we are older.

2023 was exceptionally triggering for me

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly from the series "Visit Palestines"

In case you are not aware, I am literally a war child. I was born 6 months before the beginning of the 1975-90 was in Lebanon. Growing up, I never knew anything that was not war. Mind you, one of the things people do not understand, is that your parents were experiencing war live with you - nothing prepared them for this. So basically, I also came from a family that was suffering from war. Sure these are things you understand as you grow older and you have no idea what they mean as they happen on day-to-day basis. I remember that my parents had to have Tranxene 5(mg) even before bread. And no, I am not digressing. 

The problem is that what happened in Palestine in 2023 was a major trigger for me. All the images which were coming from social media - and even though I just follow a few people on Instagram and have no Tiktok, the people I do follow are as opinionated as I am. Naturally, considering I read and analyze all day long, I kept seeing a flood of news about the region.

If you still cannot put two and two together, let me make it easier for you - all the war trauma went back to the surface as I saw and watched what was happening there. All those shelter days, and bombardment days, and explosions, and newsflashes, and everything else. All came back in a condensed package through my mind. Sure, I am tough, always have been (even if there were bouts of depression at times), but seeing all this made the past more visible, more naked, more urgent.

And believe you me, trauma does not leave you. It may hide, but it never leaves.

So whereas anyone who knows me expected me to be more vocal about what happened in Palestine, the issue was that I was dealing with the war backlog - in addition to the other problems and things that 2023 (which was not kind to many many people!) has presented me with.

So voila, there was just too much on my (mental) plate, all while knowing where I stood.

So, is Lebanon at war or not?

This is a legitimate question: Is Lebanon at war or not? And I ask as objectively as possible and in the most unbiased tones. Exhibit A: Al Mashrek Insurance is advertising its "War risk insurance" for motor and property. I mean, if someone is paying for such an ad, either they are on to something or they know something I don't. Because exhibit B: A parallel campaign is running "Lebanon does not want war" (side question: who is financing this? from what money? what for? why is it not signed?). So at this point, it's like living in two countries - one at war, one not. If anyone has a clear answer please be kind and give it to me because I lead a very complicated life without adding such a conundrum to it. 

Life goes on, no, not the TV show.

So life goes on.

Yesterday was a full day - I made an extension to the solar panels (considering am off the grid, please see here). Also with the state electricity as erratic and non-existent as ever, and with the solar panel industry in Lebanon still picking up speed (here) and with communal generators being obnoxiously expensive, there seems to be very little options left. 

A family I know uses generator as a back up to the solar panels, meaning they use it just to fill the batteries from time to time. No matter, if I am saying "Life goes on" it is because really, I am not going to wait for the developments of the region to settle down for me to keep my things happening. Actually I was asked why do it now? Why not wait and see where the "wind blows"? my answer was "what if I keep waiting and waiting and nothing happens, winter will come soon and I need to have energy to warm the house and all that". 

Which bring us to the TV show "Life goes on" - LBC, a great show built around Corky (portrayed by actor Chris Burke) who had Down's Syndrome and his family (note that Burke had Down's Syndrome too). The only other time where "Wind Beneath My Wings" was sung to full-effect apart from the - debatable - movie "Beaches". Please do see about the show here. 

But again, these are some of the things you learn from having experienced war. You just go with life and live it. I once wrote in a poem something to the effect of "I saved something for later, but later never came to pick it up". And so here we are, solar panels doubled in the hope of bringing more energy into the house.

Of life, carpets, cardigans and wars

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

On November 10, 2015, I published the following:

This year, we put the winter carpets early on with early November already being so rainy and cold where I am - hint: not Beirut - but back when times were more defined in terms of four seasons, there was a local expression which went "al sajjad min isteklal la chouhada" - the carpets from independence till martyrs. Independence day falls on November 22nd and Martyrs day on May 6th. Both were at the time national holidays which allowed women (and men) of the house to do the whole brouhaha associated with putting on the carpets and taking them off (which is very time and labor consuming mind you).

Well, this year, the cold came ever earlier, which is why today - was carpets day. Thankfully someone helped me with the whole load. Yes, yes, I am aware that this blog is mostly about talking about advertising and communication - and there is a new campaign on the street which, at best, is idiotic and I do not feel like talking about it (hint: It is a public health campaign, and yes, I ran it by three other people and "idiotic" was the kindest remark being said).

Which brings us to today and carpets.

And yes, the world is ablaze, thank you for reminding me. I am aware of it. Even if not in the daily grind of Beirut, I can still feel how convoluted everything is. But also, life is life. What I mean by that is simply that well - there's always daily chores to be done, and cooking, and cleaning, and heck - in the tumult of all of this - I managed to buy mother a winter cardigan and if you think this is simple, please try again.

Several years back frustrated from mending her cardigan - daily - I went on to find a replacement - the first was too tight (mother is minuscule but even size large - in men's! - was too tight for her liking), the second was not thick enough, the third was not of the color palette she would wear. So I went to the market and in one day, I visited 20 shops in the same day and in the middle of Burj Hammoud I found what I was looking for - color was correct, thickness was correct but it was not XL. It was obvious I was deflated, so the man suggested he'd go up to his shop's attic to see what could be done. And bingo, he manifested exactly the cardigan in XL.

So a few days back, as I was scrolling on instagram, a cardigan came my way on one of those resale sites. I knew it was it. And voila, mother fell in love when it was delivered yesterday (mind you she was not aware I was bring here a replacement to the aforementioned garment). Again, if you read above you'll discover it was really something like stars aligning for this to happen.

So there:

Carpets - done.

Winter cardigan - done.

Worrying about the war - also done but life is what it is.

So we march on bravely.

String beans, canned tuna, and other war traumas

From the series "Los Desastres de la Guerra" by Tarek Chemaly

I think I said this anecdote prior in my blog but heaven help me I know not where. Not far from my house (I live in a village mind you), are three shops. All operated and owned by families, so basically, the welcoming is always warm, and the people friendly and there is almost no difference in pricing. So when my mother asked me why I chose to be a patron of one of the specific stores, my answer was "because it faces the sun". Which is as idiosyncratic as they come in terms of answers.

But here's the logic - shops that are away from the sun are damp. Dampness reminds me of the shelter. Shelter is synonymous to war. And war is an open trauma.

Last year I was having a talk with my brother, and he said that it is impossible for him to have canned tuna. In case you did not know, canned products - tuna or luncheon meat or spread cheese were staples in shelter menus. Which reminds me of why I dislike string beans.

The Lebanese war has caused thousands upon thousands of people to be displaced. Many lost homes permanently, so one day - the year is vague to me but it must be early to mid-eighties - a knock came on our door. Do note, we lived on the 7th floor of a building. The knocker was a very old lady. In dirty rags, unclean hair, and obviously homeless. She asked for food and mother gave her string beans in Arab bread (like pita bread but larger). The woman sat on the stairs between the two floors and began eating her food by hand. I am not sure why I had to go out of the house and use the stairs but that image is etched in my memory (I think there was one of those ubiquitous power cuts and I had to use the stairs to go down as the elevator was not working). Which brings us to me avoiding string beans when possible.

Below is a post that dates back to 2013. Strange how much it still resonates today.

Originally published on October 1, 2013:

War is not over. It's a fact. It will never be. Today, in a slip of a tongue my mother said "in case I have to flee" - an awkward small sentence that could have gone unnoticed. But she said it, did not pay attention to it, and went on. But for me there was a sudden freeze frame. The exact word she said was "ehrob" - a word which could be interpreted as "run away", "flee", "save myself".
There she was, a woman secure financially, surrounded by her family in more ways than one, whose tasks have been brought down to a minimum which keeps her mentally and physically active without anything that might overburden her old age. And - subconsciously - she is still stuck in a loop. A loop that should have been finished since 1990 when the "Lebanese civil war" ended.
My first reflex was one of upset - where was she going to run flee? why would she?... And frankly, there was this cynic dismissal, whereas I did not articulate it, I surely thought it. But as I composed myself, I sat there thinking about it. In many ways, she is just a specimen of a generation. They're the ones who explored the Automatique cafe (Idriss) in downtown Beirut, the heyday of the supposed "Paris of the Orient" (what a fallacy!) and they are the ones who have had the dream of normalcy shattered - even if the war had been brewing for a long time under the champagne bubbles of the Phoenicia Hotel before it eventually exploded in 1975.
What struck me the most, was how similar she and I are. What I first dismissed as an outmoded reflex, soon dawned on me how ingrained it is in all of us. I was born on the onset of the war, and so this Capharnaum was all I knew. It was fun in a macabre way, but it was also the only paradigm and frame of reference. Not only this, in 2006, I got stuck in the US during the war which had erupted in my absence. A trip that was supposed to last two weeks ended up being two months long. Add to this that for different reasons - in 2003 and 2010 - I had to change residence twice in record time (once moving from one country to another and another time from one city to another).
And it was those war reflexes that saved me. Whereas everyone around me was panicking as to these swift transitions, I was already doing mental checklists - something you have to do in times of war - organizing things so very efficiently and taking all emotional components out the equation. Naturally, the full blow strikes you where the anomaly of such situations subsides, and this is when the psychological aftermath starts. But when you are still in your adrenalin rush, it all feels so peaceful, so normal dare I say.
And now I realize why my travel carry on luggage is almost set to go despite the fact that it has been a while since I traveled. In that luggage I keep - for reasons obscure to myself until now - a minimum survival kit: Anything from a good pair of jeans, to a change of shirts and socks, some cash and even a travel nail kit.
After all... What if I have to "ehrob" myself?

Lebanon: So what happens when all securities turned out to be false?

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

Trust me you do not want to grow up in a war. Surrounded by people trying to make it through themselves while also trying to raise you. And a school system lost between the past and the environment it is in, and little or not guidance to why such and such teacher was reacting this way to your presence.

War never ends. It carries on like a trauma - especially if unhealed and not talked about and (oddly) glamorized and fetishized in the collective (un)conscience. Honestly if I ever hear "rizkallah 3a eyem el 7arb" (loosely translated as "may God bring back the time of war") one more time, I am literally going to blow up.

Now if you ever grew up in a time of war, the first you will look for is security.

You want security at all costs through whatever outlet, you're ready to pay the highest price for it, even if means sacrificing your own security in the process. 

No, no, this is not philosophy. 

You are ready to give, love, and care so much to hang on to anything or anyone who gives you security (or more specifically, who "in your own mind" gives you security) so you end up ditching your own mental and emotional security in the process.

Living in Lebanon right now, especially that I am smack from the war generation, is having all your security networks crumble. Remember "that's incredible!" TV show? Of course you don't - but they had these stunts where trapeze artists would perform all these stunning acts (wait for it) "without safety net".

Everyday living here feels so. I know what you are going to say - "Tarek, everyone in the whole world lives this way". No, the difference is that a lot of other people have pensions to look forward to, have Floridas to move to, have firm structures in place and stable pointers and debatable laws to abide by.

I know of people (unsurprisingly outside Lebanon) preparing for trips, and moving houses, while even others working on career moves or marriages - hey, I even know people divorcing.

You really have no idea what it is to drift - daily. 

It is not a coincidence that "religious practice/beliefs" are on the rise during such times. People go back to what they know - or what makes them feel safe. Studies have proven that Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder and religious practice are interlinked (note that repetitive gestures, the shielding one's self from the unknown) and of course, the rise in the belief of conspiracy theories.

As an aside, funnily (or sadly?), a few days ago Lebanon elected its Miss after 4 years of absence and the winner was a certain Yasmina Zaytoun. Also Wael Arakji was named MVP in the FIBA basketball tournament. Whereas Mr. Arakji was very gracious dedicating the whole team's play to Lebanon at large (going as far to tell the Prime Minister to shut up and that the PM's congratulations were not needed nor welcome), many voices on Twitter were adamant that this was "a good day for the Sunnite sect" (both Arakji and Zaytoun are Sunni Muslims).

However, truth be told, on the ground, at this point all fictional elements resembling stability have been erased from Lebanon. I am not going to repeat them (the money, the food, the fuel, you name it and it is a guessing game) but every day brings its own question mark. Lately it was about the lack of bread, which again, triggers memories of blockade in the Eastern region of Beirut in 1989 where neighbors ended up baking bread on an open-oven and sold me a pack reluctantly because the bread was supposed to go to the militia controlling the area.

Paradoxically, when you know all the security that you have been seeking elsewhere is - either you paid too high of a price for it, or is too fleeting, or too meaningless in retrospect - you go back to the drawing board. 

And try to find the security you wish for, within.

Elections 2022: No one is talking about the war in their ads, therefore everyone is.

Toy Soldiers - artwork by Tarek Chemaly

These elections, everyone is not talking about war in their ads, therefore everyone is.

What? No, no, am serious.

In 2018 I voted the Kataeb ad "your ballot is a legal weapon" as the worst ad for a political party. I still think it is. But this post is about something else. Note this was not their first toe-dipping in the weapon-winking ad (please see here). 

But make no mistake, everyone is not talking about war. Directly. So everyone is.

It all happens in hints, in xenophobic terms, in making people distrust one another, in making people remember their previous schisms, in simply dog whistling familiar themes about "the other" (interestingly, due to the haphazard alignment of political parties - meaning they might be allies in region A but against each other in region B - the dog-whistling is therefore territorially based).

But still, you can feel that when a candidate (in this case Farid Boustani, but could have been anyone else) saying "I am an extremist for inter-faith living in the jabal" (here), and whereas the message is actually positive, it is a reminder about the war that happened between the PSP (Progressive Socialist Party) - or the Druze - and the Lebanese Forces - or the Maronites.

Nothing too overt, nothing too obvious, but it is there.

Look at this Beirut second district "Beyrouth touwajeh" ad (here). No direct naming, not in-your-face aggression, but the hatred is all there. And yes, May 7 was a day of war of some sort. A more recent war, but a war nonetheless. 

Once more, the whole media landscape related to elections is littered with nostalgic (and most likely not true) references to days gone by (which again - may not have existed). Take Fares Souaid and his - OK, "classic" - tweet addressed to Cheikh Naim Qassem (second in command at the Hizbollah) about our beaches being filled with "top less" [sic] (women). Really? Let me be honest, the amount of women who go/went topless (or top less as he called them) on Lebanese beaches (and that includes the pre-war St. Georges and Phoenicia - which to the lament of Souaid fell in what was "West Beirut" during the war) is/was infinitely minimal. If I am to extrapolate and include Portemilio or Rimal or Aquamarina (on the "East Beirut" part), which were all family-oriented, the number barely increases.

"Top Less" is somewhere between hallucination and fallacy. 

All these examples, as I said, contain nothing directly related to the "war" as such, but they allude to a past that never was. Interestingly, the Lebanese population never really dealt with the trauma of war, so it is easy to awaken such trauma.

Below is an article I wrote in October 2013. About the "fight or flight" reaction related to the war.

Sadly it is still valid today.

The election ads are a proof.

Published October 1rst, 2013:
War is not over. It's a fact. It will never be. Today, in a slip of a tongue my mother said "in case I have to flee" - an awkward small sentence that could have gone unnoticed. But she said it, did not pay attention to it, and went on. But for me there was a sudden freeze frame. The exact word she said was "ehrob" - a word which could be interpreted as "run away", "flee", "save myself".

There she was, a woman secure financially, surrounded by her family in more ways than one, whose tasks have been brought down to a minimum which keeps her mentally and physically active without anything that might overburden her old age. And - subconsciously - she is still stuck in a loop. A loop that should have been finished since 1990 when the "Lebanese civil war" ended.
My first reflex was one of upset - where was she going to run flee? why would she?... And frankly, there was this cynic dismissal, whereas I did not articulate it, I surely thought it. But as I composed myself, I sat there thinking about it. In many ways, she is just a specimen of a generation. They're the ones who explored the Automatique cafe (Idriss) in downtown Beirut, the heyday of the supposed "Paris of the Orient" (what a fallacy!) and they are the ones who have had the dream of normalcy shattered - even if the war had been brewing for a long time under the champagne bubbles of the Phoenicia Hotel before it eventually exploded in 1975.
What struck me the most, was how similar she and I are. What I first dismissed as an outmoded reflex, soon dawned on me how ingrained it is in all of us. I was born on the onset of the war, and so this Capharnaum was all I knew. It was fun in a macabre way, but it was also the only paradigm and frame of reference. Not only this, in 2006, I got stuck in the US during the war which had erupted in my absence. A trip that was supposed to last two weeks ended up being two months long. 
And it was those war reflexes that saved me. Whereas everyone around me was panicking as to these swift transitions, I was already doing mental checklists - something you have to do in times of war - organizing things so very efficiently and taking all emotional components out the equation. Naturally, it's when the anomaly of such situations subsides that you feel the full blow and when the psychological aftermath starts. But when you are still in your adrenalin rush, it all feels so peaceful, so normal dare I say.
And now I realize why my travel carry on luggage is almost set to go despite the fact that it has been a while since I traveled. In that luggage I keep - for reasons obscure to myself until now - a minimum survival kit: Anything from a good pair of jeans, to a change of shirts and socks, some cash and even a travel nail kit.
After all... What if I have to "ehrob" myself?

The Shelter Tapes by Tarek Chemaly now released

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

And today I am launching "the shelter tapes".... Ever wondered what we heard when we were in the shelter? Answer is here.... 

Today, Beirut was a "repeat of a story told"

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

"It's a repeat/Of a story told/It's a repeat/And it's getting old"

These lyrics come Red Hot Chilli Pepper's "Throw Away Your Television", and it is a very at epitaph for today's events in Beirut. We've seen them before. We experienced them. To my generation they are a stark reminder of what already has been. And to all the idiots who for one reason or another say "rizkallah 3ala eyam al 7arb" (oh may the day of the war come back), I can safely tell them to get lost.
Get lost and never find their way back.
Because just when you think the trauma has subsided a little, it shows its head once more.
Like it never left.
And make no mistake, whether dressed in bell bottoms as they were in the 70s or in fake Yeezys as they are today, it is the same people - their children maybe - but the same people. I am sure there is a "cause" somewhere, what it really is, not sure anyone knows. Especially not the people holding the guns and shooting. Indiscriminately shooting.
But there they were, proving their masculinity. Protecting their lords. Acting like faithful serfs.
Not even sure what they will get out of it.
To me it was scary, perhaps I have seen in the events things which I have already seen before.
In 2013 I did an exhibition called Fargo (which is the brand of the bus that exploded the Lebanese war to no return), and for it I built a labyrinth, the interesting thing was the entry of the labyrinth was the same as its exit. That was the war, we went in, and went out, and in the middle did not know what hit us.

On why I disagree with the late Ghassan Tueni

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

I know it seems pretentious to argue with someone who is considered heavy-weight intellectual such as Ghassan Tueni. But I do, vehemently so. 

OK, let me explain my main contention: 

I do not think ours in Lebanon was a war "pour les autres" (a war of others).

Say what you want about the vested nature of the "international forces", about Lebanon being at a "cross-current of politically competing nations", about this and that nation giving arms to this or that faction (or to both!), about each part having a different allegiance to diverging ideologies (the pan-Arab vs the "in3izaliye" - or the isolationists), about the flip-flopping power-hungry nations which swarmed in our orbit or us in theirs, say what you want about this.

It is, in the end, the average Lebanese who carried the gun, who was part of a militia, who went behind barricades, who stormed hotels, who ambushed regular people, who planted wire-bombed cars (the story of Samira Ibrahim going back home after planting the car with the explosive that killed 59 people and injured 135 while eating ice cream and singing as if nothing happened, still sends chills to my spine), who also got "war trophies" (a person I know tells the story of an elderly woman sitting on a chest filled with gold and jewels, when they came to make sure the house was safe, the woman was killed and the chest vanished), who berated and humiliated other religions (the old cheikh whose half-beard was shaved at a checkpoint), the closed roads and tunnels, who imposed local "taxes" (with one such man telling my own mother "either you pay or we get the money in other ways"), who implicated God in their acts (such as the now late Jocelyne Khoueiry who included the "mystical" narrative to the Lebanese Forces).

Do I go on?

Already it is incredibly difficult to recount the above (if you have not lived the war, you do not know how eternally-perpetuating and taxing it might be).

So yes, by saying it was the war "of others" ("Pour les autres"), or - as his popular theory he uttered many times states: harb el akharin 3ala ardina (Other people's war on our soil) this implies the exoneration of those who went to war, who contributed to it. An easy, moral, and ethical way out. Something in the line of "oh-it-wasn't-you-it-just-someone-else-was-responsible". Something that resonates with Adolf Eichmann's defense of "I was just following orders".

Other people's orders because it was other people's war.

Lebanon had a KFC in 1973 (which proves that the golden age never existed!)

So, apparently, we had a KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken) branch in Beirut in 1973.

This is news to me. Not the least because when KFC was introduced to the Lebanese market sometime in the 90s (apologies, have no exact date) they forgot to say that it was a re-introduction to the market. So, I know what you are thinking: Lebanon in the "golden age" and cosmopolitan Beirut at the height of its glory, when the country was "the Switzerland of the Middle Middle East" and "Beirut, the Paris of the orient".

OK, now chill.

I found the ad in an old Annahar issue Dated December 1rst, 1973, when Lebanon was navigating its umpteenth political crisis - if it was not a strike, it was the government falling apart, if it was not the Palestinian fidais, it was an Israeli infiltration, if it was not the president threatening to step down, it was the Prime Minister stepping down, if it was not journalists being arrested, killed or kidnapped, it was the whole convoluted Arab situation where Lebanon always had a dog (but no arms) in the fight.

As a matter of fact, that particular issue of Annahar has a "manchette" that read: "International movement to stop reignition of the fight" in an allusion about the then flammable situation between Egypt and Israel.

Which brings us back to KFC. Actually, what I was doing was researching an artistic project which had a very large "political" angle. And as usual, my findings confirmed by central theory: The was not just one Lebanon, not even a country "a deux vitesses" (on two speeds), but rather on 100 different speeds.

Ads for Christmas regalia cohabitated with political crises, news about political misadventures stood side by side with new play reviews or artists inaugurating their exhibitions at hip galleries with lovely words by the late May Menassa. Confusing? Yes. But doesn't it remind you of anything?

Well, Lebanon has always been this odd, strange, cacophony of voices which happen to live in a land smaller than the Disney World parking lot. Of course it is exhausting, tiring, trying, and exasperating. But digging through so much archive (I admit, more than the original project needed), only made me too aware of the never-ending cycle of political issues of Lebanon. Even through its so-called "golden age", which I repeat - to me never existed (case in point, all those political issues and that teetering at the edge of the abyss we always experienced).

And hey since we are on lockdown they had a day and night delivery service, all you have to do is call 319810-312513. Hmmm, make mine hot please.

Kalashnikov - new art series by Tarek Chemaly

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

On June 21, 1975 - right after the onset of the Lebanese war - there was a tombola (draw) on a Kalashnikov in Sin El Fil, a Christian fief. The price of the ticket was 2 Liras at the time. The absurdity of the even led me to juxtapose this advertising (found on a vintage ticket of the event) on real images of destruction during the war with a child's replica of the AK47 tossed in. Sometimes jokes are not that funny.

Natgaz an ad for the current times in Lebanon

Natgaz sells incandescent lamps and gas lanterns.

Repeat: incandescent lamps and gas lanterns.

With fuel problems, electricity shortages and power cuts, with private generators proving too expensive. We are back to the war days rationale of.... incandescent lamps and gas lanterns. This is truly an ad for the current times in Lebanon.

Really, zero steps forward, ten steps back.

April 13 commemoration of the onset of the Lebanese war: Tenzakar ta ma ten3ad

Artwork by Tarek Chemaly

Tenzakar w ma ten3ad - a popular Lebanese saying that means "may it be remembered and not repeated", as we remember the onset of the Lebanese war on April 13 1975, the slogan was changed by an ad agency (am guilty of not knowing which agency!) for a civic campaign that went "tenzakar ta ma ten3ad" - which means "may it be remembered so as not to be repeated". That simple stroke of genius in terms of linguistics makes it one of the most effective post-war slogans and my fear is that maybe we did not learn the lesson.