To say that Lebanon confronted an unending series of crises even before the country’s independence in 1943 would indeed be an understatement. Notwithstanding 71 years of turmoil — starting with the spillover effects of Palestinian-Israeli wars and the equally negative impacts of Nasserite commitments that threatened society’s democratisation initiatives — the Lebanese population, or at least a good portion of it, somehow managed to coexist. Many prospered against all odds and strengthened a burgeoning middle class that suffered the consequences of the 1975-1990 civil war followed by the stifling waves of the Syrian occupation that lasted three decades. At least 150,000 paid the ultimate price to preserve freedom, though a million of the best and the brightest migrated more or less permanently. That, sadly, was an even greater loss.
Still, among the many who found solace in their adopted nations — members of the vital middle classes that literally built Lebanon from scratch and who added value abroad — genuine successes grew exponentially, which allowed a good portion to keep in touch with their native land too. Even if increasingly nostalgic in scope, periodic visits strengthened ties and, in some cases, paved the way for permanent returns. “Project Lebanon” worked, although honest expatriates noted the lack of law and order. A few lamented that the Lebanese thrived in chaotic environments, while a few more observed that average citizens were perfectly programmed to function best in the absence of authority. Sociologists who studied Lebanon concluded that the genius of its societies — there were at least a dozen — was to find ways to get things done and, towards that end, everyone knew someone who could get things done. In short, it was a republic of possibilities, even if times changed and pressures increased.
After 71 years of utter dysfunctionality, however, few Lebanese contemplated a future that ushered in rules and regulations. In 2014, Lebanon’s real public wealth — estimated to hover around $300 billion (Dh1.1 trillion) — was controlled by approximately 4,000 families (or roughly 20,000 individuals divided more or less equally between Muslims and Christians), while the vast majority of the population worked hard to maintain a semblance of prosperity. Economic dependence is now a fact of life and were it not for the estimated $7-8 billion in annual remittances transferred by Lebanese workers overseas, the current morass would be far worse. State budgets run routine deficits, as tax collection is minimal, even if the average citizen dished out about 25 per cent of his or her income in a variety of duties including a VAT (value added tax) rate that stands at 10 per cent.
One could draw up a long list of how difficult economic conditions have now become, but space is limited. Suffice it to say that average household expenses grew exponentially during the past six years, with added pressure on spiralling cost of living increases that averaged close to 6 per cent per year during the same period, with no relief in sight. Most were indebted and believed that prosperity was around the corner, even if dysfunctional economic policies guaranteed misery instead. While recent offshore oil and gas discoveries produced optimism that fresh revenues might help address intrinsic needs, ranging from sorely-needed infrastructure repairs to finally building modern power plants, it was a foregone conclusion that beady-eyed politicians worked in earnest to fill their own pockets first. Corruption, a national sport, was rampant and on the rise with little or no prospects for meaningful changes.
Under the circumstances, and with nearly half of the population either a refugee from Syria or Palestine — along with an invisible, though significant domestic workers’ presence — young Lebanese graduates from the country’s leading universities migrated en masse. Each month, an estimated 16,000 sought overseas opportunities, with the bulk looking for employment in the Arab Gulf region. With limited prospects at home, many more were likely to join them that, over time, was sure to fundamentally alter the country’s demographic conditions.
Preoccupied with political survival and anxious to prevent devastating security lapses, President Michel Sulaiman devoted the bulk of his six-year term to lower tensions, encourage national dialogue and prevent regional crises from spilling over inside Lebanon. Sulaiman inherited an endemic political morass and, at best, managed various crises. Indeed, it would be safe to conclude that his sole legacy was to successfully prevent a second Nahr Al Bared — when the Lebanese Army clashed with Islamists in 2007 at the northern Palestinian refugee camp — or a repeat of the May 7, 2008, Hezbollah rampage throughout Beirut. These, truth be told, were the key presidential accomplishments.
Still, neither Sulaiman nor any of the governments that presided over the affairs of state, devoted much attention to the economy. That was why average citizens are utterly dejected because the country today stands precisely where it was six years ago. Chances are excellent that whoever was elected to fill the post of president would, likewise, have little time to devote to what really mattered. The coming six years, therefore, are likely to be copycat imitations of the immediate past, with added sectarian tensions that promise to further enlarge the gulf that separates polarised citizens. In fact, disunity over the very identity of a new president — with the latest accusations that the head of state would eventually be elected by Christian-Sunnis and Christian-Shiites — guaranteed that Lebanon faced a conundrum: How to create wealth and improve the economy when politicians preferred to duke it out for raw power?Dr Joseph A. Kechichian is the author of Legal and Political Reforms in Saudi Arabia (London: Routledge, 2013).
