Lebanon: Eight out of 115 Female Candidates Reach Parliament

Lebanese electoral staff start counting votes for parliamentary elections in the presence of party delegates and European Union observers at a polling station in the capital Beirut, on May 15, 2022. (AFP)
Lebanese electoral staff start counting votes for parliamentary elections in the presence of party delegates and European Union observers at a polling station in the capital Beirut, on May 15, 2022. (AFP)
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Lebanon: Eight out of 115 Female Candidates Reach Parliament

Lebanese electoral staff start counting votes for parliamentary elections in the presence of party delegates and European Union observers at a polling station in the capital Beirut, on May 15, 2022. (AFP)
Lebanese electoral staff start counting votes for parliamentary elections in the presence of party delegates and European Union observers at a polling station in the capital Beirut, on May 15, 2022. (AFP)

Only eight women out of 115 candidates nominated by traditional parties, opposition groups and civil society reached the Lebanese parliament, amid calls for the adoption of a law that defines women’s quota.

However, this year’s winners have broken a decades-old custom in Lebanon – that is parliamentary inheritance.

In fact, since 1963, a female candidate would usually enter Parliament following the death of her husband or father, inheriting his seat. The first Lebanese woman deputy is Mirna Al-Boustani, who arrived unopposed after a by-election that took place following the death of her father, Emile Al-Boustani in 1963.

Other women followed the same path, including Nouhad Said, wife of former MP Antoine Said, Nayla Mouawad, wife of former President Rene Mouawad, and Solange Gemayel, wife of former President Bachir Gemayel.

Women, who achieved victory in the recent legislative elections, are distributed as follows: 3 deputies who were in the previous parliament, including Paula Yacoubian (independent), Enaya Ezzeddine (Amal Movement) and Strida Geagea (the Lebanese Forces Party), three deputies that represent the change movement, including Najat Saliba, Halima Al-Qaaqour and Cynthia Zarazir, in addition to Ghada Ayoub, who is affiliated with the Lebanese Forces party, and former Minister Nada Al-Boustani, who represents the Free Patriotic Movement.

In remarks to Asharq Al-Awsat, Najat Saliba, the elected representative of the Chouf-Aley constituency (from the opposition groups), said that she was disappointed by the fact that only 8 women entered Parliament this year.

“We had hoped that more women would reach Parliament and that their representation would at least equal that in Arab countries,” she said, stressing, however, that the new female deputies have won with “high merit” and would “work as they should.”

Saliba rejected claims that women do not need a quota to run for the elections.

“These are illogical arguments. In all countries, in which women are well represented in parliament, a quota law was passed; then, after it becomes natural and people get used to the idea, the law can be canceled.”

She added that the quota would not mean specifying a certain number of women candidates to Parliament in each list, but rather setting a percentage that would represent the minimum number of female deputies.

In this regard, Saliba stressed that the percentage should not be less than 30 percent, saying: “Men themselves should not accept this meager representation and push to change this reality.”



Iraqis Face Tough Homecoming a Decade after ISIS Rampage

A woman and a boy in the camp near Hassan Shami for the internally displaced. Safin HAMID / AFP
A woman and a boy in the camp near Hassan Shami for the internally displaced. Safin HAMID / AFP
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Iraqis Face Tough Homecoming a Decade after ISIS Rampage

A woman and a boy in the camp near Hassan Shami for the internally displaced. Safin HAMID / AFP
A woman and a boy in the camp near Hassan Shami for the internally displaced. Safin HAMID / AFP

A decade after the ISIS group extremists rampaged through northern Iraq, Moaz Fadhil and his eight children finally returned to their village after languishing for years in a displacement camp.
Their home, Hassan Shami, is just a stone's throw from the tent city where they had been living, and it still bears the scars of the fight against ISIS.
The militants seized a third of Iraq, ruling their self-declared "caliphate" with an iron fist, before an international coalition wrestled control from them in 2017.
Seven years on, many of the village's homes are still in ruins and lacking essential services, but Fadhil said he felt an "indescribable joy" upon moving back in August.
Iraq -- marred by decades of war and turmoil even before the rise of ISIS -- is home to more than a million internally displaced people.
Baghdad has been pushing for the closure of the displacement camps, with the country having attained a degree of comparative stability in recent years.
Most of the camps in federal Iraq have now been closed, but around 20 remain in the northern autonomous Kurdistan region, which according to the United Nations house more than 115,000 displaced people.
But for many, actually returning home can be a difficult task.
After getting the green light from Kurdish security forces to leave the camp, Fadhil moved his family into a friend's damaged house because his own is a complete ruin.
'Beautiful memories'
"Water arrives by tanker trucks and there is no electricity," said the 53-year-old.
Although the rubble has been cleared from the structure he now lives in, the cinder block walls and rough concrete floors remain bare.
Across Hassan Shami, half-collapsed houses sit next to concrete buildings under construction by those residents who can afford to rebuild.
Some have installed solar panels to power their new lives.
A small new mosque stands, starkly white, beside an asphalt road.
"I was born here, and before me my father and mother," said Fadhil, an unemployed farmer.
"I have beautiful memories with my children, my parents."
The family survives mainly on the modest income brought in by his eldest son, who works as a day laborer on building sites.
"Every four or five days he works a day" for about $8, said Fadhil.
In an effort to close the camps and facilitate returns, Iraqi authorities are offering families around $3,000 to go back to their places of origin.
To do so, displaced people must also get security clearance -- to ensure they are not wanted for extremist crimes -- and have their identity papers or property rights in order.
But of the 11,000 displaced people still living in six displacement camps near Hassan Shami, 600 are former prisoners, according to the UN.
They were released after serving up to five years for crimes related to membership of ISIS.
Not that simple
For them, going home can mean further complications.
There's the risk of ostracism by neighbors or tribes for their perceived affiliation with IS atrocities, potential arrest at a checkpoint by federal forces or even a second trial.
Among them is 32-year-old Rashid, who asked that we use a pseudonym because of his previous imprisonment in Kurdistan for belonging to the extremist ISIS group.
He said he hopes the camp next to Hassan Shami does not close.
"I have a certificate of release (from prison), everything is in order... But I can't go back there", he said of federal Iraq.
"If I go back it's 20 years" in jail, he added, worried that he would be tried again in an Iraqi court.
Ali Abbas, spokesperson for Iraq's migration ministry, said that those who committed crimes may indeed face trial after they leave the camps.
"No one can prevent justice from doing its job", he said, claiming that their families would not face repercussions.
The government is working to ensure that families who return have access to basic services, Abbas added.
In recent months, Baghdad has repeatedly tried to set deadlines for Kurdistan to close the camps, even suing leaders of the autonomous region before finally opting for cooperation over coercion.
Imrul Islam of the Norwegian Refugee Council said displacement camps by definition are supposed to be temporary, but warned against their hasty closure.
When people return, "you need schools. You need hospitals. You need roads. And you need working markets that provide opportunities for livelihoods," he said.
Without these, he said, many families who try to resettle in their home towns would end up returning to the camps.