Clergy, Bags of Cash Set off New Sectarian Dispute in Lebanon

Lebanese president Michel Aoun meets with Lebanese Maronite archbishop Moussa al-Hajj, at the presidential palace, in Baabda east of Beirut, Lebanon, July 22, 2022. (Dalati & Nohra)
Lebanese president Michel Aoun meets with Lebanese Maronite archbishop Moussa al-Hajj, at the presidential palace, in Baabda east of Beirut, Lebanon, July 22, 2022. (Dalati & Nohra)
TT

Clergy, Bags of Cash Set off New Sectarian Dispute in Lebanon

Lebanese president Michel Aoun meets with Lebanese Maronite archbishop Moussa al-Hajj, at the presidential palace, in Baabda east of Beirut, Lebanon, July 22, 2022. (Dalati & Nohra)
Lebanese president Michel Aoun meets with Lebanese Maronite archbishop Moussa al-Hajj, at the presidential palace, in Baabda east of Beirut, Lebanon, July 22, 2022. (Dalati & Nohra)

A Lebanese archbishop who carried more than $460,000 from Israel to Lebanon is at the center of the latest sectarian showdown in crisis-hit Lebanon, and the case could even spill over into presidential politics.

The situation has ramped up discord between two powerful political camps: Lebanon’s Shiite Hezbollah group and the Maronite Church.

The clergyman was briefly detained last month by Lebanese border agents who confiscated 20 suitcases stuffed with cash and medicine, arguing he violated Lebanon's strict laws against normalization with Israel.

Hezbollah's opponents say the Iran-backed group has sway over Lebanese institutions and security agencies, and have used them to target the Maronite Church. The archbishop, Moussa al-Hajj, is a senior member of the Maronite Church, whose patriarch has become increasingly critical of Hezbollah and its growing influence in Lebanon.

Much of the Christian community saw the archbishop’s detention as an attack on the church.

In a sermon late last month, Maronite Patriarch Beshara al-Rai denounced the legal proceedings against al-Hajj as a fabrication, arguing that the money was for charity. He demanded that the charges be dropped and that the military judge who presides over the case resign.

Rai was met with a standing ovation and protesters gathered the following week at his summer residence to rally in support of the church.

Underlying the dispute are decades of hostile relations between Israel and Lebanon. The two countries have formally been at war since Israel's founding in 1948, and Lebanon has tough anti-normalization laws on the books. The border remains closed, though several top Lebanese Christian officials have permission to cross on occasion to visit their flock in Israel, the Palestinian territories and Jordan.

On July 20, Lebanese border agents held al-Hajj for eight hours after he returned from Israel with 20 suitcases of medicine and cash. Al-Hajj said he was delivering money and assistance from Lebanese Christians in northern Israel to their relatives in the cash-strapped country. The agents confiscated the money, the medicine, al-Hajj’s cellphone and passport.

Hezbollah officials saw al-Hajj's act as normalization with Israel and accused him of delivering money from Lebanese affiliated with a militia that once fought alongside Israel.

Thousands of Lebanese moved to Israel after it ended an 18-year occupation of parts of southern Lebanon in 2000. Many of those who fled to Israel were linked to the main pro-Israeli militia in the region, the South Lebanon Army, which collapsed after Israeli troops withdrew.

The case could have wider political implications.

The country for months has been without a fully functional government and is expected to hold presidential elections before the end of October.

Under Lebanon’s sectarian power-sharing system, its president must always be a Maronite. Incumbent President Michel Aoun is an ally of Hezbollah, but the Maronite patriarch's increasingly vocal criticism of Hezbollah suggests there is no guarantee the next president will continue an alliance with the militia.

Lebanon’s parliament once had a clear majority for Hezbollah and its allies but since elections in May it now stands neck and neck with some of its staunchest opponents, most notably the Christian Lebanese Forces party.

Most Christian members of parliament and legislators of other sects who oppose Hezbollah rallied to back the archbishop and the Maronite church.

“We agree with everything they have said, whether it’s their calls for removing the judge, or the selectivity in how the archbishop was treated,” said Elias Hankash, a legislator of the Christian Kataeb Party. “They (Hezbollah officials) shouldn’t just take out their anger on a religious official to send their message to the patriarch.”

Imad Salamey, a political science professor at the Lebanese American University in Beirut, said much is at stake for Hezbollah.

“We’re coming to a presidential election and following that we have to form a new government, and set a government policy to negotiate with the IMF (International Monetary Fund,” he said. “I think Hezbollah wants to send all kinds of messages at the moment, and is determined to show it continues to be the major player among all.”

Hezbollah’s leadership didn’t comment. Its leader Hassan Nasrallah in a recent interview denied the group’s influence in security agencies and the judiciary. “In Lebanon there are laws, and the security agencies take action towards any collaborator or possible collaborator,” he said.

The head of Hezbollah’s block in parliament Mohammad Raad was more explicit, saying the archbishop’s delivery of money and medicine was normalization, which he called a “national betrayal and a crime.”

A person close to ael-Hajj's case told The Associated Press that authorities offered to Rai to return the archbishop's confiscated passport and phone, but keep the bags of cash and medicine. Rai reportedly refused and the archbishop will not attend any hearings

Meanwhile, poverty deepens for millions of Lebanese, about three-quarters of its population. Rampant power cuts, breadlines and inflation plague households across the country’s mosaic of 18 religious sects following decades of nefarious economic mismanagement and corruption from Lebanon’s ruling parties.

People demand accountability and reform, so divisive political tension could be a good smokescreen, said Mohanad Hage Ali, research fellow at the Carnegie Middle East Center.

“The political class is resorting to the old method of sectarian polarization,” Hage Ali said. “It has been effective, and I think it will continue to be effective.”



Syrians Integrated in Germany Face Uncertainty Over Return

Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)
Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)
TT

Syrians Integrated in Germany Face Uncertainty Over Return

Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)
Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)

Twelve years after his famous selfie with then-German Chancellor Angela Merkel, Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees, appears at ease in his adopted homeland.

At the time, Modamani had no idea who Merkel was when he snapped the photo during her visit to the asylum center where he was staying. Today, however, he feels as deeply connected to Germany as he does to his homeland, Syria.

Modamani, like many Syrians who fled to Germany after the 2011 uprising, faces a tough decision: stay in Germany or return to Syria.

With hopes of a post-Assad era, Modamani, originally from Daraya near Damascus, plans to visit his family in Syria and help rebuild their home.

“I want to split my time between Germany and Syria and start projects in both countries,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“Damascus is the most beautiful city on earth, but I love Germany, and Berlin is my second home.”

Modamani has fully embraced life in Germany, learning the language, gaining citizenship, joining the workforce, and building a relationship with Anna, a Ukrainian woman.

His German passport makes it easier to plan trips back to Syria without worrying about losing his residency or legal status in Germany.

Modamani is among nearly 260,000 Syrian refugees who have obtained German citizenship. However, more than 700,000 Syrians in Germany remain on asylum or temporary protection permits—status that could be revoked if conditions in Syria improve.

The shifting situation in Damascus has left Syrian refugees and German authorities in limbo. Decisions on 47,000 migration applications from Syrians have been paused as officials wait for more clarity.

Germany’s asylum policies were based on fears of war and persecution. With those fears easing after the fall of Assad, the legal basis for granting protection may no longer exist.

The uncertainty has sparked political debate. Some politicians, including Social Democrats in the ruling government, have called for changes to asylum rules.

Interior Minister Nancy Faeser suggested keeping refugees who are integrated or employed while deporting others.

Talk of deporting Syrian refugees in Germany seems tied to the upcoming February 23 elections.

While temporary residency permits can be revoked, Syria must first be declared “safe and stable” by the Foreign Ministry—a process that could take years.

Even with delays in Germany labeling Syria “safe,” most Syrian refugees show little interest in returning. Before Assad’s fall, 94% said they wanted to stay, according to the Federal Office for Migration and Refugees.

The longer refugees live in Germany, the stronger their ties become. Many arrived over five years ago, with some having spent a decade in the country.

Siamand Osman, a Syrian Kurdish refugee from Qamishli, has been in Germany for 11 years. He learned the language, gained citizenship, and built a life, even though most of his family remains in Syria. For now, he has no plans to go back.

Osman told Asharq Al-Awsat that the situation in Kurdish areas of Syria is still unstable.

“I want to return—my family is there—but I hope all sides in Syria can agree and bring peace to our region,” he said.

Osman’s biggest fear is the return of war.

“Imagine leaving everything behind, selling my belongings, and going back to Syria, only to have the war start again and force me to flee once more,” he says. Despite this, he is determined to return when the situation improves.

Economic instability is another key factor contributing to Syrians’ reluctance to return home. Alaa Muhrez, who arrived in Germany in 2015, explained that the economic situation in Syria plays a significant role in her decision.

She told Asharq Al-Awsat that she “rebuilt her life from scratch.”

After learning the language and training in her profession as an accountant, Muhrez is now working in her field and has gained German citizenship.

Despite her strong optimism for Syria’s future, Muhrez, originally from Homs, remains cautious about the situation there and the country’s potential trajectory in the coming years.

She fears leaving her job and home in Berlin, only to return to Syria and struggle to find suitable employment.

For Syrian families, the decision to stay or return is even more difficult. Many arrived with children who have forgotten Arabic and spent years learning German.

Anas Fahd, from Sweida, came to Germany almost three years ago with his family and teenage son. He still holds a temporary protection permit and works as an electrical engineer.

“It’s too early to decide about returning,” Fahd told Asharq Al-Awsat. His son has been learning German for a year and is doing well in school in Berlin. “It would be hard to send him back to Syria, where he’d have to waste another year relearning Arabic.”

Even newcomers like Basel Hussein, who arrived in Berlin on the day Assad fell, have no plans to go back. Hussein, who paid over 13,000 euros to be smuggled into Germany, says he won’t return now.

“The situation is still unclear with new decisions every day,” Hussein said. “I’d rather start fresh in Germany than return to an uncertain future in Syria.”

It’s not only Syrians who are hesitant to return—many Germans worry about losing a key part of the workforce, especially those filling important roles.

Over 5,000 Syrian doctors work in German hospitals, making them the largest group of foreign doctors. Many others work in sectors with labor shortages, like nursing, construction, and hospitality.

It takes an average of seven years for Syrians to enter the labor market as they learn the language and validate their qualifications. Syrians are filling vital roles, but unemployment remains high, particularly for women.

Unions representing doctors and workers have warned against calls for quick deportations, fearing it could harm the labor market.

Manfred Lucha, health minister in Baden-Württemberg, where many Syrian doctors work, warned that if they leave, it would create a huge gap in the healthcare sector. The state’s hospital association also said losing Syrian healthcare workers would be a significant blow.