Shortage of Financial Stamps Complicates Public Transactions in Lebanon

The Lebanese central bank in Beirut. (Reuters)
The Lebanese central bank in Beirut. (Reuters)
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Shortage of Financial Stamps Complicates Public Transactions in Lebanon

The Lebanese central bank in Beirut. (Reuters)
The Lebanese central bank in Beirut. (Reuters)

State institutions and private companies in Lebanon are suffering from a shortage of official stamps that are needed to be glued onto all official transactions and company bills. The issue has led to chaos in public institutions and stripped the treasury of millions of dollars in revenues, exacerbating the financial crisis. Officials have meanwhile, distanced themselves from the issue.

The stamps shortage started weeks ago, especially after Hassan Diab’s government was granted confidence and institutions commenced regular work again after most of them had at least partially shut down during the October 17 popular uprising.

A source from the Ministry of Finance told Asharq Al-Awsat that the ministry has started to “at least partially address the crisis”. He added that they will be “printing 8 million 250 LBP stamps that would be enough for 2020, pending that the new bid on 1,000 LBP and more stamps is completed”.

This lack of stamps in ministries, state institutions, notaries and private companies has stopped thousands of transactions and has exacerbated the public resentment towards the state’s apathy towards people’s suffering.

A source from the Ministry of Finance has revealed that the ministry has “attracted offers to print 8 million 1,000 LBP stamps, but until this is over, it has found a temporary solution that would allow some institutions to collect the price of the stamp without actually placing it on the transaction and providing a receipt with the stamp’s value.” The solution has been adopted in real estate, car registration transactions and other important deals that cannot be postponed.

Private companies have sounded the alarm after the could no longer issue any bill unless a stamp was placed onto it for the treasury to collect its value. A source informed on the crisis mentioned that “there is a real problem with the ministry collecting financial dues, bills and the value added tax because companies are unable to issue these bills without stamps”.

The Lebanese state’s revenue has receded to less than half after the popular uprising started as citizens refrained from paying due bills, whether electricity or water, car and automobile maintenance and even landline bills. The revenues from stamps, however, remained the same as people needed them for official transactions.

On Sunday, mayors in the northern Akkar region brought this crisis up with the MP Hadi Hbeish and raised their complaints to him about the delay in their work and citizens’ transactions.

“We have to stand by our people in these difficult and harsh circumstances,” Hbeish said, acknowledging that the shortage of stamps was hindering transaction.

He called on the Finance Minister to resolve this crisis as soon as possible, promising to follow up on the issue, saying the people already have to contend with the health, economic and psychological crises and can do without another one.



Watching the Sun Rise over a New Damascus

Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
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Watching the Sun Rise over a New Damascus

Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)
Damascus is seen at sunrise from Mount Qasyun, which for years was off limits to regular people. (AFP)

After the fall of Bashar al-Assad, Afaf Mohammed did what she could not for more than a decade: she climbed Mount Qasyun to admire a sleeping Damascus "from the sky" and watch the sun rise.

Through the long years of Syria's civil war, which began in 2011 with a government crackdown on pro-democracy protesters, people were not allowed access to the mountain.

But now they can return to look down again on their capital, with its high-rise hotels and poor suburbs exhausted by war.

When night falls, long queues of vehicles slowly make their way up a twisting road to a brightly lit corniche at the summit.

Once there, they can relax, listen to music, eat and, inevitably, take selfies.

On some evenings there have even been firework displays.

Afaf Mohammed told AFP that "during the war we weren't allowed up to Mount Qasyun. There were few public places that were truly accessible."

At her feet, the panorama of Syria's capital stretched far and wide. It was the second time in weeks that the dentist in her thirties had come to the mountaintop.

A man sells tea on Mount Qasyun, from which government artillery used to pound opposition-held areas under Assad's rule. (AFP)

- Ideal for snipers -

Her first was just after a coalition of opposition fighters entered the city, ousting Assad on December 8.

On that occasion she came at dawn.

"I can't describe how I felt after we had gone through 13 years of hardship," she said, wrapped close in an abaya to ward off the chilly breeze.

Qasyun was off limits to the people of Damascus because it was an ideal location for snipers -- the great view includes elegant presidential palaces and other government buildings.

It was also from this mountain that artillery units for years pounded opposition-held areas at the gates of the capital.

Mohammed believes the revolution brought "a phenomenal freedom" that includes the right to visit previously forbidden places.

"No one can stop us now or block our way. No one will harm us," she said.

Patrols from the security forces of Syria's new rulers are in evidence, however.

They look on as a boy plays a tabla drum and young people on folding chairs puff from water pipes as others dance and sing, clapping their hands.

Everything is good-natured, reflecting the atmosphere of freedom that now bathes Syria since the end of Assad rule.

Gone are the stifling restrictions that once ruled the people's lives, and soldiers no longer throng the city streets.

Visitors to Mount Qasyun can now relax, listen to music, eat and snap selfies. (AFP)

- Hot drinks and snacks -

Mohammad Yehia, in his forties, said he once brought his son Rabih up to Mount Qasyun when he was small.

"But he doesn't remember having been here," he said.

After Assad fell, his son "asked if we would be allowed to go up there, and I said, 'Of course'," Yehia added.

So they came the next day.

Yehia knows the place well -- he used to work here, serving hot drinks and snacks from the back of a van to onlookers who came to admire the view.

He prides himself on being one of the first to come back again, more than a decade later.

The closure of Mount Qasyun to the people of Damascus robbed him of his livelihood at a time when the country was in economic freefall under Western sanctions. The war placed a yoke of poverty on 90 percent of the population.

"We were at the suffocation point," Yehia told AFP.

"Even if you worked all day, you still couldn't make ends meet.

"This is the only place where the people of Damascus can come and breathe a little. It's a spectacular view... it can make us forget the worries of the past."

Malak Mohammed, who came up the mountain with her sister Afaf, said that on returning "for the first time since childhood" she felt "immense joy".

"It's as if we were getting our whole country back," Malak said. Before, "we were deprived of everything".