The leader of al-Mokhtara has endured tumults over the decades. I recalled the day when Walid Jumblatt recounted to me the developments that happened on that long and painful day in March 1977.
He was still in his twenties - a time when youths dream of freedom and living their life to the fullest. Life came to a standstill with the most painful news. A few bullets put an end to a national leader, Kamal Jumblatt. The development was earthshattering in Lebanon. Kamal was aware that he was a target and that he would not have long to live. It was as if he even knew when he would be assassinated.
In al-Mokhtara, Walid had to deal with the throngs of tearful and angry mourners. He sensed the need for revenge and the Syrian regime was blamed for the assassination. The young man had to answer to fate at a painful hour. He had to make difficult decisions. That day, Walid’s life changed. He recalled that a considerable number of his ancestors had been killed in bloody clashes throughout history. He surrendered to his fate and would court it for the decades to come.
Ever since then, and until this day, Walid had been a part of the wars of the nation, its reconciliations, settlements and collapses. He surprised everyone with his skill. At times, his courage bordered on recklessness. He is skilled at confronting challenges, is aware of his strengths and weaknesses, and knows what the red lines are as he contemplates crossing them.
He occupies himself with the concerns of the villages and their needs. He fortifies himself in their small maps, while keeping a constant eye on the winds of change in the violent and miserable Middle East. He is a leader of a small sect that had played a part in forming a country that will constantly be swept up in regional storms. A country that will be influenced Arab leaders, who would leave their mark in the region, such as Egypt’s Gamal Abdel Nasser, Syria’s Hafez al-Assad and Iran’s Khomeini.
For nearly half a century, Walid was the leader of a small sect that could only protect itself by playing a major role. It was fate that would allow the al-Mokhtara leader to be ahead of curb of his rivals in certain instances, and at times to sit back and lick his wounds when winds didn't blow in his favor.
He started his career as the pallbearer of his father’s coffin. Kamal was buried at al-Mokhtara and Walid would bite down on his deep wound. Forty days later, he would be shaking the hands of Hafez al-Assad. Walid would have to put his feelings on hold.
For five years, he occupied the seat that his father held in the difficult triangle that included Yasser Arafat and Assad. The day Arafat was forced out of Lebanon into exile, Walid had no choice but to take the Beirut-Damascus route. That is how he emerged victorious against the Maronites in the War of the Mountain in 1983. He took advantage of support and supplies of weapons from Damascus and Russia’s Yuri Andropov.
In recent years, Walid has been sending out signals that he was tired. He had grown used to being part of the battles in the club of major players, but the game is now changing. The duels are now taking place under rubble and victories are actually losses. The map of friends and enemies has changed. New figures, who are not experienced in the Lebanese equation, its wars and truces, have emerged.
I spoke with Mohsen Ibrahim who was close to both Kamal and Arafat. We began to tally the number of funerals that came out of Lebanon’s wars and the wars waged against Lebanon. They were many. We recalled the long string of assassinations that have claimed two presidents and two prime ministers, and a number of politicians, journalists and security officials.
Ibrahim said three assassinations have left the greatest marks in Lebanon. That of Kamal, Bashir al-Gemayel and Rafik al-Hariri. The weight of one coffin is unbearable, so how about two? Walid carried the coffin of his father and later, Hariri. I recalled the spring of assassinations in 2005 and how Walid was at every funeral, leading procession after procession, and comforting the wounded.
Over the decades, Walid became an expert in biting down on his wounds. He deals blows and receives them. He aims and misses. He takes a moderate approach at times, and a hard line at others. On all occasions, he would find the poisoned cup nearby. The poison of assassinations, making excuses, and offering settlements at the expense of martyrs, without exception.
After the infamous clashes of May 7, 2008, Walid repositioned himself and again took the Damascus route, convinced that the problem did not lie with it alone. The eruption of the conflict in Syria a few years later would reawaken his demands and open his wounds.
Ibrahim once told me about the infamous failed meeting between Assad and Kamal. At the heart of the dispute was the Lebanese leader’s refusal to acknowledge Assad’s “right” in running Lebanon, changing its features and forging its future. Ibrahim recalled that Kamal did not want history to note that he bowed down to the demands and approved of what was to come.
Walid, notably, carries the same concern. He would rather lose and remain on the right side of history rather than approve of any coup against Lebanon.
How hard it must be for a boxer to realize that his time – with all its successes and failures – is up. He must pass down the leadership and burden so that his heir would not inherit animosities, alliances and a river of poison. Six years ago, Walid handed over the leadership of his community to his son Taymour. He retained his role as leader of the Progressive Socialist Party.
With the regional winds not in his favor, Walid resigned from the PSP. He quit the club of heavyweights, hoping to steer clear of more poisoned cups.
