A country that once took pride in its distinct sectarian diversity, Lebanon now finds itself overwhelmed by an excess of plurality, leading to the conflation of plurality and arithmetic being added to the longstanding conflation of sects and sectarianism. The late Imam Mohammad Mahdi Shamseddine once said that “sects are a blessing, while sectarianism is a curse.” This characterization, which we often see invoked in reference to the Lebanese and their multitude of sects, suggests that the components of this rich mosaic - a large portion of them - often operate in thoroughly sectarian ways in their daily political, social, cultural, and at times, even economic interactions, deepening mutual resentments.
Sects and sectarianism, as well as the state and authority, have given rise to many narratives. However, the abundance of narratives is not necessarily a sign of intellectual or political dynamism, nor a reflection of Lebanon’s vast mix of ideas, texts, and worldviews. Indeed, it stems from domestic disputes between factions whose regime is tailored to their interests and shaped by their struggle for power and their ties to foreign powers. Everything from the official to the unofficial narrative - whether relayed by the three branches of government, state institutions, political parties, the media, or echoed by certain intellectual, cultural, political, or economic elites - remains both a blessing and a curse. Much of it is merely “wily words.”
The stream of regional and international envoys arriving in Beirut is gaining steam, and the wily words grow louder with it. From the visit of Egyptian envoy and intelligence chief General Hassan Rashad to that of US envoy Morgan Ortagus, and the arrival of Arab League Secretary-General Ahmed Aboul Gheit in the interim, the public has been flooded by contradictory statements.
Each official conveys a different mood, and every domestic actor spins to suit their narrative. Rashad’s visit, for instance, brought to mind the visit of a European counterpart who had come to Beirut from Tel Aviv just weeks after the Al-Aqsa Flood Operation. The European envoy warned Lebanese officials that, in Tel Aviv, he “met only madmen. If you don’t stop the support front, then from north to south, Lebanon will become a bank of targets.”
Rashad’s message may not have been identical in timing or circumstance; the statements emerging from Beirut appeared outwardly positive, and they have seemingly reassured the Lebanese. Ortagus also reportedly spoke of encouraging Lebanese steps, while parliament Speaker Nabih Berri, who is directly concerned with the situation in southern Lebanon, was quoted as saying there would be no war and that the panic was unfounded. Such words invite suspicion. We should see them as wily words, especially since every visit to Beirut seems to produce multiple versions of the same story.
It might be reasonable for the political class not to disclose everything it knows. However, it is unreasonable for the authorities to spread narratives that contradict their conversations behind closed doors. Realism is indeed necessary. Even if war is not imminent and even if local actors are fearmongering, failing to tell the Lebanese that the solutions will be difficult, that tensions will persist, and that sterile disputes endure to deceive, is meant to conceal the structural crisis of the authorities and coax foreign actors.
In Lebanon, the narratives change by the hour, by the day, and by the visit. Most of the time, the narrative seeks to deceive, and it is usually illogically untenable in both its claims and demands. The Lebanese people need a dose of honesty and realism, especially those of the South, not more wily words. Because ultimately, he who deceives us is not one of us.
