Posts
The Obama administration’s recent shifts on Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak have betrayed American confusion over the way his regime is structured. That’s mystifying: Egypt is among America’s closest Arab allies and the second-largest recipient of foreign aid.
Last week, President Barack Obama issued a statement saying, “My belief is that an orderly transition [in Egypt] must be meaningful, must be peaceful, and it must begin now.” Obama’s press secretary clarified the thought a day later, observing: “When we said ‘now,’ we meant ‘yesterday’ ... That's what the people of Egypt want to see.”
However, over the weekend the United States backtracked from its demand that Mubarak exit quickly. In Munich, Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton warned against too early a departure, declaring that a two-month deadline for a presidential election “doesn’t give anybody any time” to prepare for a smooth changeover.
The flip-flopping showed how little the United States has grasped the greatest talent of Arab regimes: manufacturing stalemate. Amid the rapid developments soon after Egypt’s saga began, the administration thought it could direct a speedy change in gears. Mubarak would quietly leave office (and American officials and envoys were on hand to push him out), his recently-appointed vice president, Omar Suleiman, would take over for a transitional period, and Egypt would move toward stability, supervised by the pro-American military.
That may yet happen, but the Americans never asked why Mubarak resisted this convenient scenario, and why the army has seemed so reluctant to disagree with him. The fact is that even to the hardened men of the Egyptian regime, Mubarak is a patron whom they’re not used to dealing without. For three decades the president has protected their interests, has appointed most of them to their posts, knows their dirty little secrets and their enmities, and overall has structured Egypt’s military, political and economic hierarchies in such a way that different power centers can cancel each other out.
For Washington to assume that Suleiman has the legitimacy to abruptly replace Mubarak is to assume –optimistically, even hubristically – that the chief of the General Intelligence Directorate has the unanimous backing of senior military commanders and other officials. Suleiman may yet earn that legitimacy, but he will have to work very hard to do so in a system in which fellow officers will make him pay a steep price for their approval. They will expect him to defend both their personal welfare and that of the armed forces. Moreover, Suleiman was only promoted under duress, consequently his latitude to make concessions to the opposition is limited.
Herein lays a dilemma: If Mubarak stays on in office, even with restricted powers (if this is in any way realistic), Suleiman’s margin of maneuver in a transitional period will be narrow; but if Mubarak leaves office, Suleiman will struggle even more to fill the ensuing vacuum. Mubarak sits atop an equilibrium that he has imposed and presided over for many years. He is the glue tying together the different limbs of the regime writ large – the armed forces, the security services, the National Democratic Party, the military-dominated economic sectors, the pro-Mubarak business elite, and so on.
This is hardly to suggest that the Egyptian leader must stay in power. Rather, it is to point out the complexities of getting him out of power, which the Obama administration should have been more sensitive to before sonorously setting a virtual deadline for Mubarak’s removal.
In assuming that Egypt’s institutions could be bent out of shape in line with their own priorities, the Americans failed to see that Egypt doesn’t quite function in that way. Its institutions may often be dysfunctional, but that doesn’t mean that Egyptians will readily endorse their debasement. Which is why Mubarak’s foolhardy project to bring his son, Gamal, to power sat so poorly with his countrymen.
Barack Obama will need to show more patience than he has shown to resolve his Egyptian headache. He failed to hoodwink Mubarak, but the answer lies not in hoodwinking the protestors. Washington cannot afford a void in Egypt, but nor should it presume that its own salvation lies in sponsoring a new authoritarian leadership.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
Can Lebanon kill its own tribunal?
Reading between the lines of NOW Lebanon’s interview this week with François Roux, the head of the defense office at the Special Tribunal for Lebanon, one immediately senses a tension that has yet to be resolved between the legal and political dimensions of the upcoming trial of those suspected of involvement in the assassination of Rafik al-Hariri.
This has been both the strength and the Achilles Heel of the tribunal process. On the one side you have the judges and lawyers in Leidschendam, for whom the assassinations in Lebanon in 2005 provide grist for a stimulating judicial case, away from political intrigue; on the other you have a majority of Lebanese, who have focused on the political repercussions of the Special Tribunal. Until now the conventional wisdom is that politics will not impact on the pursuit of justice and that the tribunal “cannot be stopped.”
But how true is that? Yes, the tribunal probably cannot be stopped, but it can be shot through with enough arrows so that its foundations and credibility may be damaged, and its activities slowed down.
It’s not clear what the prime minister-elect, Najib Mikati, will do about the tribunal once he forms a government. Many insist that he was appointed on condition that he revoke the agreement with the tribunal, cease funding for the institution, and recall the Lebanese judges. However, Mikati has implicitly denied this, telling the French-daily Le Figaro this week, “My position is clear, unless the Lebanese decide to reconsider [relations with the tribunal], unanimously and with Arab support, the government remains committed to respecting the protocol with the United Nations on the tribunal.”
Until we can determine whether that’s true, we must give Mikati the benefit of the doubt. But for the sake of argument, what would happen if a new cabinet did break with the tribunal? This was a question posed to Roux, and he was understandably evasive. “A new government is bound by agreements that were signed by a previous government,” he answered, adding: “The tribunal will continue to do its work. It does not change anything. A government might fall, but the state continues.”
The consensus view is that even if Lebanon fails to pay its 49 percent share of the institution’s budget, alternative sources of funding will be found. Several states have already offered to cover the shortfall. As for Lebanese cooperation with the tribunal, the tribunal’s official position is that this is mandatory because the agreement Lebanon signed with the body came under Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter. Article 15 of the agreement itself also makes cooperation compulsory.
There is less sanguineness, however, when it comes to the judges, who were named not by Beirut but by the Security Council. An effort by a new cabinet to remove the judges is bound to agitate at least some of the Lebanese named to the tribunal’s offices. If they succumb to the pressures from home, it may not be easy for the tribunal to find replacements. Perhaps some judges may be sought out in the diaspora, in itself hardly ideal; or some effort would have to be made to find judges in Lebanon willing to replace their shaken peers. However, such an endeavor could delay proceedings. And if this leads nowhere, according to some observers more radical measures might have to be considered, such as placing the tribunal under full UN authority.
A Lebanese divorce from the Special Tribunal would play against the initial intent underlying the tribunal’s establishment: to bolster the rule of law in Lebanon, and more specifically to ensure that there would no longer be impunity for political assassination in the country. That was why the tribunal was conceived as a mixed body, and it is why the prosecutor and UN investigators in Beirut until today are dependent on the Lebanese judiciary and security services to implement their requests. If the tribunal were to lose its Lebanese identity, this could seriously undermine the rationale of the enterprise as a whole.
This disconnect between Lebanon and the tribunal would be taken to its extreme if none of the individuals indicted is in the dock, so that the trial is conducted mostly or entirely in absentia. Asked about his effectiveness in such a trial, Roux responded: “Our role in the case of absentia trials is all the more important. Because this is a novelty in international law. This is the first time that we can have such a trial. Our role would be to support defense teams in that scenario by putting all our skills at their disposal, so that a trial like that can be a success.”
But what would constitute “success” if no one is in court, if Lebanon proclaims that it will have nothing to do with the tribunal, and if the idealistic ambitions that accompanied the setting up of the institution have all evaporated? If success means the process moves forward to some intellectually stimulating climax, because the case embodies legal novelties, but with none of the guilty ever punished, then this seems a fairly low standard. The Lebanese surely deserve better.
This has been both the strength and the Achilles Heel of the tribunal process. On the one side you have the judges and lawyers in Leidschendam, for whom the assassinations in Lebanon in 2005 provide grist for a stimulating judicial case, away from political intrigue; on the other you have a majority of Lebanese, who have focused on the political repercussions of the Special Tribunal. Until now the conventional wisdom is that politics will not impact on the pursuit of justice and that the tribunal “cannot be stopped.”
But how true is that? Yes, the tribunal probably cannot be stopped, but it can be shot through with enough arrows so that its foundations and credibility may be damaged, and its activities slowed down.
It’s not clear what the prime minister-elect, Najib Mikati, will do about the tribunal once he forms a government. Many insist that he was appointed on condition that he revoke the agreement with the tribunal, cease funding for the institution, and recall the Lebanese judges. However, Mikati has implicitly denied this, telling the French-daily Le Figaro this week, “My position is clear, unless the Lebanese decide to reconsider [relations with the tribunal], unanimously and with Arab support, the government remains committed to respecting the protocol with the United Nations on the tribunal.”
Until we can determine whether that’s true, we must give Mikati the benefit of the doubt. But for the sake of argument, what would happen if a new cabinet did break with the tribunal? This was a question posed to Roux, and he was understandably evasive. “A new government is bound by agreements that were signed by a previous government,” he answered, adding: “The tribunal will continue to do its work. It does not change anything. A government might fall, but the state continues.”
The consensus view is that even if Lebanon fails to pay its 49 percent share of the institution’s budget, alternative sources of funding will be found. Several states have already offered to cover the shortfall. As for Lebanese cooperation with the tribunal, the tribunal’s official position is that this is mandatory because the agreement Lebanon signed with the body came under Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter. Article 15 of the agreement itself also makes cooperation compulsory.
There is less sanguineness, however, when it comes to the judges, who were named not by Beirut but by the Security Council. An effort by a new cabinet to remove the judges is bound to agitate at least some of the Lebanese named to the tribunal’s offices. If they succumb to the pressures from home, it may not be easy for the tribunal to find replacements. Perhaps some judges may be sought out in the diaspora, in itself hardly ideal; or some effort would have to be made to find judges in Lebanon willing to replace their shaken peers. However, such an endeavor could delay proceedings. And if this leads nowhere, according to some observers more radical measures might have to be considered, such as placing the tribunal under full UN authority.
A Lebanese divorce from the Special Tribunal would play against the initial intent underlying the tribunal’s establishment: to bolster the rule of law in Lebanon, and more specifically to ensure that there would no longer be impunity for political assassination in the country. That was why the tribunal was conceived as a mixed body, and it is why the prosecutor and UN investigators in Beirut until today are dependent on the Lebanese judiciary and security services to implement their requests. If the tribunal were to lose its Lebanese identity, this could seriously undermine the rationale of the enterprise as a whole.
This disconnect between Lebanon and the tribunal would be taken to its extreme if none of the individuals indicted is in the dock, so that the trial is conducted mostly or entirely in absentia. Asked about his effectiveness in such a trial, Roux responded: “Our role in the case of absentia trials is all the more important. Because this is a novelty in international law. This is the first time that we can have such a trial. Our role would be to support defense teams in that scenario by putting all our skills at their disposal, so that a trial like that can be a success.”
But what would constitute “success” if no one is in court, if Lebanon proclaims that it will have nothing to do with the tribunal, and if the idealistic ambitions that accompanied the setting up of the institution have all evaporated? If success means the process moves forward to some intellectually stimulating climax, because the case embodies legal novelties, but with none of the guilty ever punished, then this seems a fairly low standard. The Lebanese surely deserve better.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Why Arabs have airbrushed Lebanon out
One thing has been intriguing me since the beginning of the popular revolts in Tunisia and Egypt. Why is it that virtually everyone, in describing the novelty of the moment, invariably fails to mention Lebanon’s Independence Intifada of 2005?
A passage from an article by my colleague Rami Khouri provides a useful summary of the prevailing view of recent developments in the Arab world: “Never before have we had entire Arab populations stand up and insist on naming their rulers, shaping their governance system, and defining the values that drive their domestic and foreign policies,” he writes. “Never before have we had free Arab citizenries in pursuit of self-determination. Never before have we seen grassroots political, social and religious movements compel leaders to change their cabinets and re-order the role of the armed forces and police.”
What is taking place invites such lyricism. But isn’t Khouri forgetting Lebanon just six years ago, in the dark hours after Rafik Hariri’s assassination? Then, too, a majority of Lebanese stood up and insisted on naming their rulers, shaping their governance system, and defining their foreign policy – until then veneers for Syrian dictates. A cabinet was brought down under popular pressure, and soon thereafter four security chiefs were made to resign. The Lebanese held a parliamentary election that was surprisingly democratic, and the breakdown of seats, on all sides, reflected accurately the alignment of forces existing during the days of the Independence Intifada.
Much has also been made of the fact that Tunisia’s upsurge against Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali was led by an educated middle class. But so too were the Lebanese rallies against Syria, even if at the time this provoked more disdain than approval, as those in search of Oriental authenticity mocked what they called a “Gucci revolution.”
Why is it that no one in the Arab world, or for that matter in the West, has been inclined to bring up that electric Lebanese episode as they watch events unfolding in the streets of Tunis and Cairo? It’s not sufficient to point to the checkered aftermath of the Independence Intifada to justify that omission. For one thing, the intifada was a striking success, as liberal indignation with the killing of a former prime minister ultimately obliged Syria to withdraw its army from Lebanon. Such occasions of high emotion come to define themselves, with participants and observers rarely judging their consequences until it’s too late. Protesters want immediate gratification: the overthrow of a hated order. That is their benchmark of achievement.
The Independence Intifada did not excite the Arabs for three reasons. The first is that many did not view the Lebanese system as overly oppressive, so that the plotline of an underdog fighting against great odds was never taken very seriously, though it was surely applicable in 2004-05. After all, to triumph the protesters had to overcome those who had killed Hariri or who had facilitated his elimination; they also had to prevail over the Lebanese Army and security services, who were taking orders from ministers hostile to the protesters; and they had to face down Hezbollah, which sought to intimidate opposition demonstrators on March 8, 2005, with a mass gathering of its own.
A second reason is that the Lebanese uprising was largely non-violent. This was principally because the army and security forces, while they tried repeatedly to frustrate protesters and deny them access to Martyrs Square, never fired on the crowds. Such common sense lessened the drama of the confrontation, unlike the repressive measures of the Tunisian and Egyptian security services that lead to the death of hundreds of civilians, and injury to countless more.
But perhaps the most significant reason why Lebanon 2005 left many Arabs cold, and still does, was that it didn’t quite sit well with their deeper political predispositions. Where developments in Tunisia and Egypt are welcomed as blows against the United States, therefore satisfying regional hostility to the American order in the Middle East, the Lebanese embraced American and international assistance after the Hariri killing. Their intifada took place in the shadow of a United Nations resolution that called on Syria to leave Lebanon, and that implicitly demanded the disarmament of Hezbollah.
Far from perceiving developments in Lebanon as a bracing example of emancipation, many in the Arab world saw it as a victory of the United States and France over Syria and Hezbollah. Therefore, in the bizarre logic prevailing then (and now), it was interpreted as a setback for emancipation – defined as anything that might strengthen Western power in the Middle East. That is why there was none of Al-Jazeera’s selective outrage on hand to warm Arab spirits to the Independence Intifada. The station had always approved of Syria’s and Hezbollah’s agendas in Lebanon, and it still does. The behavior of the Al-Jazeera bureau chief in Beirut has amply demonstrated this fact.
That said, to lament public marginalization of the Independence Intifada is meaningless on its own. That a majority of Arabs will reject any narrative that places the United States in a good light tells us much about Washington’s errors in the region. When was it not obvious, particularly during the post-Cold War period, that America would one day have to choose between its image as global defender of democracy and its sustained support for the most authoritarian regimes in the Middle East? Washington sees risks in allowing Arab states to go their own way, but these are hardly more threatening than propping up its regional alliance system with reviled despotisms.
The Lebanese may complain that American approval brought them little after 2005. Syria and Hezbollah are back in the driver’s seat in the country. But nothing worries Damascus, Hezbollah, or Iran more than genuine political pluralism, alternations in leadership, and democratic self-determination. That’s where America’s cards are strongest, not its support for soulless, corroded republican monarchies that have humiliated and beaten their societies into submission, whose demise no one can possibly regret.
A passage from an article by my colleague Rami Khouri provides a useful summary of the prevailing view of recent developments in the Arab world: “Never before have we had entire Arab populations stand up and insist on naming their rulers, shaping their governance system, and defining the values that drive their domestic and foreign policies,” he writes. “Never before have we had free Arab citizenries in pursuit of self-determination. Never before have we seen grassroots political, social and religious movements compel leaders to change their cabinets and re-order the role of the armed forces and police.”
What is taking place invites such lyricism. But isn’t Khouri forgetting Lebanon just six years ago, in the dark hours after Rafik Hariri’s assassination? Then, too, a majority of Lebanese stood up and insisted on naming their rulers, shaping their governance system, and defining their foreign policy – until then veneers for Syrian dictates. A cabinet was brought down under popular pressure, and soon thereafter four security chiefs were made to resign. The Lebanese held a parliamentary election that was surprisingly democratic, and the breakdown of seats, on all sides, reflected accurately the alignment of forces existing during the days of the Independence Intifada.
Much has also been made of the fact that Tunisia’s upsurge against Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali was led by an educated middle class. But so too were the Lebanese rallies against Syria, even if at the time this provoked more disdain than approval, as those in search of Oriental authenticity mocked what they called a “Gucci revolution.”
Why is it that no one in the Arab world, or for that matter in the West, has been inclined to bring up that electric Lebanese episode as they watch events unfolding in the streets of Tunis and Cairo? It’s not sufficient to point to the checkered aftermath of the Independence Intifada to justify that omission. For one thing, the intifada was a striking success, as liberal indignation with the killing of a former prime minister ultimately obliged Syria to withdraw its army from Lebanon. Such occasions of high emotion come to define themselves, with participants and observers rarely judging their consequences until it’s too late. Protesters want immediate gratification: the overthrow of a hated order. That is their benchmark of achievement.
The Independence Intifada did not excite the Arabs for three reasons. The first is that many did not view the Lebanese system as overly oppressive, so that the plotline of an underdog fighting against great odds was never taken very seriously, though it was surely applicable in 2004-05. After all, to triumph the protesters had to overcome those who had killed Hariri or who had facilitated his elimination; they also had to prevail over the Lebanese Army and security services, who were taking orders from ministers hostile to the protesters; and they had to face down Hezbollah, which sought to intimidate opposition demonstrators on March 8, 2005, with a mass gathering of its own.
A second reason is that the Lebanese uprising was largely non-violent. This was principally because the army and security forces, while they tried repeatedly to frustrate protesters and deny them access to Martyrs Square, never fired on the crowds. Such common sense lessened the drama of the confrontation, unlike the repressive measures of the Tunisian and Egyptian security services that lead to the death of hundreds of civilians, and injury to countless more.
But perhaps the most significant reason why Lebanon 2005 left many Arabs cold, and still does, was that it didn’t quite sit well with their deeper political predispositions. Where developments in Tunisia and Egypt are welcomed as blows against the United States, therefore satisfying regional hostility to the American order in the Middle East, the Lebanese embraced American and international assistance after the Hariri killing. Their intifada took place in the shadow of a United Nations resolution that called on Syria to leave Lebanon, and that implicitly demanded the disarmament of Hezbollah.
Far from perceiving developments in Lebanon as a bracing example of emancipation, many in the Arab world saw it as a victory of the United States and France over Syria and Hezbollah. Therefore, in the bizarre logic prevailing then (and now), it was interpreted as a setback for emancipation – defined as anything that might strengthen Western power in the Middle East. That is why there was none of Al-Jazeera’s selective outrage on hand to warm Arab spirits to the Independence Intifada. The station had always approved of Syria’s and Hezbollah’s agendas in Lebanon, and it still does. The behavior of the Al-Jazeera bureau chief in Beirut has amply demonstrated this fact.
That said, to lament public marginalization of the Independence Intifada is meaningless on its own. That a majority of Arabs will reject any narrative that places the United States in a good light tells us much about Washington’s errors in the region. When was it not obvious, particularly during the post-Cold War period, that America would one day have to choose between its image as global defender of democracy and its sustained support for the most authoritarian regimes in the Middle East? Washington sees risks in allowing Arab states to go their own way, but these are hardly more threatening than propping up its regional alliance system with reviled despotisms.
The Lebanese may complain that American approval brought them little after 2005. Syria and Hezbollah are back in the driver’s seat in the country. But nothing worries Damascus, Hezbollah, or Iran more than genuine political pluralism, alternations in leadership, and democratic self-determination. That’s where America’s cards are strongest, not its support for soulless, corroded republican monarchies that have humiliated and beaten their societies into submission, whose demise no one can possibly regret.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Jumblatt shifts with the wind, but so do Lebanese fortunes
It has often been said that where Lebanon goes, Mr Jumblatt follows - although on many occasions the contrary has been true. If so, a look back at his actions in the past few weeks will give us a better sense of the trials and errors this week that have heightened tension in Beirut.
The importance of Mr Jumblatt is that after the 2009 elections, it was his parliamentary bloc that could hand the majority to the Hariri-led March 14 coalition or, conversely, to the rival Hizbollah-led coalition. While the Druze leader's candidates were elected as allies of March 14, Mr Jumblatt was then preparing to move closer to Syria, after having been its most ardent foe following the assassination four years earlier of Rafik Hariri. The acrobat in Mr Jumblatt sensed that because of the Syrian-Saudi reconciliation in early 2009, Mr Hariri would be pushed by Riyadh to reconcile with Syria; therefore, Mr Jumblatt had to do so too, or he would be left hanging out to dry.
From that moment on, Mr Jumblatt was helpless. He had a Canossa to climb in order to regain Syrian approval (and the humiliations came hard and fast), and knew that his community was exposed militarily to Hizbollah, which had attacked Druze mountain villages in May 2008, to Mr Jumblatt's alarm. His parliamentarians were tallied with those of the majority led by March 14, but it was a matter of time before Syria would ask him to go all the way in his new alignments.
Two weeks ago the Hariri government was brought down when Hizbollah's ministers and their allies resigned. This was precipitated by two developments: continuing discord within the government over Hizbollah and Syria's demand that Mr Hariri take measures to sever Lebanon's relations with the Special Tribunal for Lebanon, set up to identify and try those involved in the Hariri assassination; and the breakdown in a Syrian-Saudi dialogue over Lebanon that, from Damascus's and Hizbollah's perspectives, was meant to facilitate this severing of relations. But Washington warned the Saudis that they should not endorse steps against the tribunal, and the dialogue ended.
To form a government, the president consults with parliamentary blocs, takes a poll and determines who has the most votes. After the recent government collapse, Hizbollah and its allies vowed that Mr Hariri would not return to office, fearing he would continue stalling on the tribunal. Mr Jumblatt, in contrast, announced that his bloc would nominate Mr Hariri as the most representative Sunni. Consultations were delayed, however, and within days Hizbollah had exerted pressure on Mr Jumblatt to give his votes to the opposition's candidate. Last week, the Druze leader yielded, announcing that he would side with the candidate of "Syria and the resistance", which many people took to mean Omar Karami, a former prime minister.
The importance of Mr Jumblatt is that after the 2009 elections, it was his parliamentary bloc that could hand the majority to the Hariri-led March 14 coalition or, conversely, to the rival Hizbollah-led coalition. While the Druze leader's candidates were elected as allies of March 14, Mr Jumblatt was then preparing to move closer to Syria, after having been its most ardent foe following the assassination four years earlier of Rafik Hariri. The acrobat in Mr Jumblatt sensed that because of the Syrian-Saudi reconciliation in early 2009, Mr Hariri would be pushed by Riyadh to reconcile with Syria; therefore, Mr Jumblatt had to do so too, or he would be left hanging out to dry.
From that moment on, Mr Jumblatt was helpless. He had a Canossa to climb in order to regain Syrian approval (and the humiliations came hard and fast), and knew that his community was exposed militarily to Hizbollah, which had attacked Druze mountain villages in May 2008, to Mr Jumblatt's alarm. His parliamentarians were tallied with those of the majority led by March 14, but it was a matter of time before Syria would ask him to go all the way in his new alignments.
Two weeks ago the Hariri government was brought down when Hizbollah's ministers and their allies resigned. This was precipitated by two developments: continuing discord within the government over Hizbollah and Syria's demand that Mr Hariri take measures to sever Lebanon's relations with the Special Tribunal for Lebanon, set up to identify and try those involved in the Hariri assassination; and the breakdown in a Syrian-Saudi dialogue over Lebanon that, from Damascus's and Hizbollah's perspectives, was meant to facilitate this severing of relations. But Washington warned the Saudis that they should not endorse steps against the tribunal, and the dialogue ended.
To form a government, the president consults with parliamentary blocs, takes a poll and determines who has the most votes. After the recent government collapse, Hizbollah and its allies vowed that Mr Hariri would not return to office, fearing he would continue stalling on the tribunal. Mr Jumblatt, in contrast, announced that his bloc would nominate Mr Hariri as the most representative Sunni. Consultations were delayed, however, and within days Hizbollah had exerted pressure on Mr Jumblatt to give his votes to the opposition's candidate. Last week, the Druze leader yielded, announcing that he would side with the candidate of "Syria and the resistance", which many people took to mean Omar Karami, a former prime minister.
To participate or not to participate?
Despite the talk of a “coup” circulating in recent days in March 14’s ranks, Saad Hariri and his allies must take the measure of where they stand, beyond the slogans. Indeed, Syria and Hezbollah have made a major step forward in reversing the gains of 2005, when Syria removed its army from Lebanon and, for a moment, Lebanon’s unaccountable security chiefs faced the rule of law. But March 14 needs to take a deep breath and coldly assess what happened.
The real “coup” was not the appointment of Najib Mikati to form a new government; it was Hezbollah’s ability, with Syrian acquiescence, to turn Walid Jumblatt against the March 14-led majority. There are interesting ingredients in this reversal that have to do with the complicated dynamics of the Syrian-Iranian relationship.
Last week it seemed that Hezbollah and Michel Aoun had made a decision not only to prevent Hariri’s return as prime minister, but also to cripple him politically. Their calculation was that if Hariri came back, he would be able to further delay a Lebanese decision to sever relations with the Special Tribunal for Lebanon. Hezbollah’s secretary-general, Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah, and Aoun sought to bring in Omar Karami. But the former prime minister would have been too bitter a pill to swallow for everyone, and Syria intervened with a bait and switch, replacing Karami with the more palatable Mikati.
The shoddy way Mikati was presented had to do with Hezbollah’s haste to get a government in quickly, to cut ties with the tribunal. On Sunday, Aoun and Nasrallah hinted that Karami was out (since he could not have won a vote against Hariri). However, the cursory way Aoun mentioned Mikati, and the fact that Nasrallah did not, may have indicated that neither was overwhelmed with the choice. Could it be that Syria’s imposition of Mikati, and the subsequent offer by Syria’s ally Suleiman Franjieh that March 14 take the blocking third in a Mikati government, denied them the chance to eliminate Hariri? It’s instructive that Syria’s allies in Beirut were explaining that Damascus did not want to repeat the mistake of Emile Lahoud’s extension.
What are the options for Hariri? The former prime minister has said that he would not join a government “named by Hezbollah.” And there are growing signs that he may carry through on this, even as his bloc pursues an internal debate on participation. If so, this might be mistake.
There are two schools of thought: that March 14 should stay outside of the government, denying it Sunni legitimacy and compelling Mikati to form a cabinet of “one color.” This cabinet will take a contentious decision on the Special Tribunal, incensing both the Sunnis and the international community, eroding what tenuous credibility Mikati has. Consequently, the government will not last, forcing Syria and Hezbollah to negotiate once again with a reinvigorated Hariri.
That may happen, but recent events suggest that relying on this scenario is risky. The rioting on Monday was both good and bad for Hariri. It showed that the Sunnis are angry, and that their anger might spin out of control, therefore it is a bad idea to push too harshly against Hariri and the tribunal. But the scenes of violence also made many Lebanese worry that they were on the cusp of sectarian warfare. And for better or worse, by default many will now identify Mikati with stability.
Unfortunately for Hariri, and his Sunni legitimacy notwithstanding, any successful strategy to undermine a Mikati government would require feeding off ambient insecurity, much like Hezbollah has done in the past. But that is not really Hariri’s way.
If Hariri participates in the government, or just in talks to establish one, this may open up opportunities. In light of Hezbollah’s alacrity to rid itself of the Special Tribunal, Franjieh made his blocking third proposal to March 14 without conditions. Damascus may not have endorsed this, but Hariri should seize the offer anyway. It is doubtful that Syria seeks Hariri’s political disappearance. For as long as the former prime minister retains clout as the dominant Sunni, Damascus will ensure that it can continue playing him off against Hezbollah.
If Hariri’s participation is so vital to the new government, then this gives him latitude to impose conditions. The minimal demand of March 14 must be the blocking third. Much bargaining lies ahead, despite Franjieh’s statement, but negotiations would buy time for confirmation of the tribunal indictment. And if Hariri does not get what he wants, he can always pull out and place the onus of failure on Mikati.
Hariri can also demand that the break with the tribunal not be mentioned in the cabinet statement, delegitimizing such a move from the start. Mikati may support this, even if he has probably agreed to end Beirut’s collaboration with the institution. If March 14 gets the blocking third, it could obstruct a vote in the cabinet to annul the protocol with the Special Tribunal (which is why Hezbollah and Syria are liable not to surrender that advantage to Hariri). Whatever happens, and more cynically, if Mikati goes ahead with the divorce anyway, Hariri would be giving him rope with which to hang himself.
There are other advantages in participating in a Mikati government with a blocking third. There will be occasions for March 14 to ally itself on important issues with President Michel Sleiman, and even Walid Jumblatt. The Druze leader is keen, for electoral reasons, to regain Sunni favor after his decision last week to vote against Hariri.
All eyes will be on Saudi Arabia’s reaction. The Saudis have spent two years sponsoring a Syrian comeback to Lebanon, on the assumption that better Syria leading in Beirut than Iran. There may be those in the kingdom who regard the pro-Syrian Mikati as fulfilling that logic. Hariri will remain the Sunnis’ leader, but he will also be careful not to maneuver outside the parameters set by the previous Syrian-Saudi dialogue. Ultimately Mikati is the man in the hot seat today, so entering the government could emerge as Hariri’s optimal way of exploiting what will surely be its impossible contradictions.
The real “coup” was not the appointment of Najib Mikati to form a new government; it was Hezbollah’s ability, with Syrian acquiescence, to turn Walid Jumblatt against the March 14-led majority. There are interesting ingredients in this reversal that have to do with the complicated dynamics of the Syrian-Iranian relationship.
Last week it seemed that Hezbollah and Michel Aoun had made a decision not only to prevent Hariri’s return as prime minister, but also to cripple him politically. Their calculation was that if Hariri came back, he would be able to further delay a Lebanese decision to sever relations with the Special Tribunal for Lebanon. Hezbollah’s secretary-general, Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah, and Aoun sought to bring in Omar Karami. But the former prime minister would have been too bitter a pill to swallow for everyone, and Syria intervened with a bait and switch, replacing Karami with the more palatable Mikati.
The shoddy way Mikati was presented had to do with Hezbollah’s haste to get a government in quickly, to cut ties with the tribunal. On Sunday, Aoun and Nasrallah hinted that Karami was out (since he could not have won a vote against Hariri). However, the cursory way Aoun mentioned Mikati, and the fact that Nasrallah did not, may have indicated that neither was overwhelmed with the choice. Could it be that Syria’s imposition of Mikati, and the subsequent offer by Syria’s ally Suleiman Franjieh that March 14 take the blocking third in a Mikati government, denied them the chance to eliminate Hariri? It’s instructive that Syria’s allies in Beirut were explaining that Damascus did not want to repeat the mistake of Emile Lahoud’s extension.
What are the options for Hariri? The former prime minister has said that he would not join a government “named by Hezbollah.” And there are growing signs that he may carry through on this, even as his bloc pursues an internal debate on participation. If so, this might be mistake.
There are two schools of thought: that March 14 should stay outside of the government, denying it Sunni legitimacy and compelling Mikati to form a cabinet of “one color.” This cabinet will take a contentious decision on the Special Tribunal, incensing both the Sunnis and the international community, eroding what tenuous credibility Mikati has. Consequently, the government will not last, forcing Syria and Hezbollah to negotiate once again with a reinvigorated Hariri.
That may happen, but recent events suggest that relying on this scenario is risky. The rioting on Monday was both good and bad for Hariri. It showed that the Sunnis are angry, and that their anger might spin out of control, therefore it is a bad idea to push too harshly against Hariri and the tribunal. But the scenes of violence also made many Lebanese worry that they were on the cusp of sectarian warfare. And for better or worse, by default many will now identify Mikati with stability.
Unfortunately for Hariri, and his Sunni legitimacy notwithstanding, any successful strategy to undermine a Mikati government would require feeding off ambient insecurity, much like Hezbollah has done in the past. But that is not really Hariri’s way.
If Hariri participates in the government, or just in talks to establish one, this may open up opportunities. In light of Hezbollah’s alacrity to rid itself of the Special Tribunal, Franjieh made his blocking third proposal to March 14 without conditions. Damascus may not have endorsed this, but Hariri should seize the offer anyway. It is doubtful that Syria seeks Hariri’s political disappearance. For as long as the former prime minister retains clout as the dominant Sunni, Damascus will ensure that it can continue playing him off against Hezbollah.
If Hariri’s participation is so vital to the new government, then this gives him latitude to impose conditions. The minimal demand of March 14 must be the blocking third. Much bargaining lies ahead, despite Franjieh’s statement, but negotiations would buy time for confirmation of the tribunal indictment. And if Hariri does not get what he wants, he can always pull out and place the onus of failure on Mikati.
Hariri can also demand that the break with the tribunal not be mentioned in the cabinet statement, delegitimizing such a move from the start. Mikati may support this, even if he has probably agreed to end Beirut’s collaboration with the institution. If March 14 gets the blocking third, it could obstruct a vote in the cabinet to annul the protocol with the Special Tribunal (which is why Hezbollah and Syria are liable not to surrender that advantage to Hariri). Whatever happens, and more cynically, if Mikati goes ahead with the divorce anyway, Hariri would be giving him rope with which to hang himself.
There are other advantages in participating in a Mikati government with a blocking third. There will be occasions for March 14 to ally itself on important issues with President Michel Sleiman, and even Walid Jumblatt. The Druze leader is keen, for electoral reasons, to regain Sunni favor after his decision last week to vote against Hariri.
All eyes will be on Saudi Arabia’s reaction. The Saudis have spent two years sponsoring a Syrian comeback to Lebanon, on the assumption that better Syria leading in Beirut than Iran. There may be those in the kingdom who regard the pro-Syrian Mikati as fulfilling that logic. Hariri will remain the Sunnis’ leader, but he will also be careful not to maneuver outside the parameters set by the previous Syrian-Saudi dialogue. Ultimately Mikati is the man in the hot seat today, so entering the government could emerge as Hariri’s optimal way of exploiting what will surely be its impossible contradictions.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Barak, or inconsequence
Ehud Barak’s recent departure from Israel’s Labor Party to form his own faction offered an instructive moment in Israeli politics. It’s hardly the merits of the man that make it so. Rather, the transition was the latest confirmation that Israel’s so-called “peace camp” is a thing of the past in terms of political effectiveness, as the consensus in the country on relations with the Palestinians moves politically rightward.
The mediocrity of Barak’s record has reflected that change. It wasn’t always that way. In 1999, when he became prime minister, Barak was seen as the inheritor of Yitzhak Rabin, someone who would inject life into the moribund peace negotiations that had languished under the tenure of Benjamin Netanyahu. We were reminded that Barak was brainy and could be both gentle and rough: He could play the piano skillfully, and skillfully assassinate Palestinian leaders, as he did Khalil al-Wazir in Tunis. This helped earn him, with a colleague, the status of most decorated soldier in Israeli history.
Barak’s only term as prime minister, between 1999 and 2001, was defeated by hubris. He entered office ambitiously promising success on the Palestinian, Syrian and Lebanese tracks, yet left having achieved almost nothing. Barak did pull his soldiers out of South Lebanon in May 2000, but Israel received nothing in exchange. In light of the prime minister’s failures elsewhere, that exit, which was soon perceived, rightly or wrongly, as a defeat, took on added importance and became a yardstick for Israeli vulnerabilities.
With Syria, Barak’s vulnerabilities came to full light. He told his American interlocutors upon arriving in Washington in December 1999 for the Shepherdstown talks with Syria’s foreign minister, Farouk al-Sharaa, that he did not have a mandate to surrender the Golan Heights down to the shores of Lake Tiberias. This represented a step backward from what Rabin had promised the Syrian leader, Hafez al-Assad – showing, not for the last time, that Barak frequently promised what he could not deliver. The Shepherdstown talks collapsed and the prime minister’s reluctance to take risks on the Golan helped push the Syrian-Israeli track into a dead end after Assad held an abortive meeting with Bill Clinton in Geneva.
Barak’s legacy may be safer when it comes to the climactic moment of negotiations with the Palestinians: the Camp David talks of July 2000. The general opinion is that Israel offered the Palestinian leader, Yasser Arafat, major concessions, but that an agreement was derailed by Arafat’s refusal to accept Israeli conditions on Jerusalem. However, that interpretation has been disputed, thanks largely to the publication by Robert Malley, a Clinton administration staffer who was present at the talks, and Hussein Agha of an article in The New York Review of Books questioning the orthodoxy. The “blame Arafat” line, they wrote, “fails to capture why what so many viewed as a generous Israeli offer, the Palestinians viewed as neither generous, nor Israeli, nor, indeed, as an offer.”
Their perspective was challenged by other officials who had been at Camp David, but Barak’s proposals did him no good at home. Once the Palestinians embarked upon a new intifada, the prime minister became a sitting duck. By then the high hopes of the years before had evaporated. Barak had struck out everywhere because he had too confidently imagined he could succeed everywhere. He was defeated by Ariel Sharon in the elections of 2001, resigned as leader of the Labor Party and for years worked outside politics.
The comeback was no more impressive. Only in 2007 did Barak regain leadership of Labor, and then by a narrow margin. In the 2009 elections Labor won a mere 13 seats in the Knesset. Despite initially saying the party would not join the government, Barak reversed course to become defense minister. Other party members were unhappy with this, and the ongoing tension between Barak and his colleagues over peace negotiations with the Palestinians pushed him to go his own way this week.
Perhaps Barak thinks he can do what Sharon did when he left Likud to form Kadima. If so, that, too, would be a sign of an over-adventurous ego. The Israeli defense minister has increasingly seemed little more than a good resume wrapped around a core of inconsequence. He has failed to stake out a position that anyone might readily identify as his. Barak’s compromises with Netanyahu, his refusal to push hard in favor of his declared positions on peace with the Arabs, even the fact that he appears to have misled the Obama administration over his effectiveness in swaying the prime minister, all suggest he is far closer to being an opportunist than the near redeemer he was portrayed as more than a decade ago.
If Barak has become so elastic, that’s because he is adapting to an Israel much different, at least to the outside world, than the one that elected him in 1999. The old parameters, those of an Israeli peace camp squaring off against a pro-settlement camp, were undermined by Sharon, who evacuated Gaza to better consolidate Israeli control over other Palestinian areas. This strategy, of offering absorbable concessions to enhance Israel’s long-term territorial domination, has been imitated by Netanyahu, and poses no problems for most Israeli voters. It’s a testament to Labor’s futility that Israel’s government is made stronger by its ministers’ walk-out.
Barak may have dealt a harsh blow to Labor, but this won’t hasten his own political renaissance. His repositioning makes a good headline, but is not overly meaningful. Perhaps that’s because Israel itself is finding meaningful politics more and more elusive.
The mediocrity of Barak’s record has reflected that change. It wasn’t always that way. In 1999, when he became prime minister, Barak was seen as the inheritor of Yitzhak Rabin, someone who would inject life into the moribund peace negotiations that had languished under the tenure of Benjamin Netanyahu. We were reminded that Barak was brainy and could be both gentle and rough: He could play the piano skillfully, and skillfully assassinate Palestinian leaders, as he did Khalil al-Wazir in Tunis. This helped earn him, with a colleague, the status of most decorated soldier in Israeli history.
Barak’s only term as prime minister, between 1999 and 2001, was defeated by hubris. He entered office ambitiously promising success on the Palestinian, Syrian and Lebanese tracks, yet left having achieved almost nothing. Barak did pull his soldiers out of South Lebanon in May 2000, but Israel received nothing in exchange. In light of the prime minister’s failures elsewhere, that exit, which was soon perceived, rightly or wrongly, as a defeat, took on added importance and became a yardstick for Israeli vulnerabilities.
With Syria, Barak’s vulnerabilities came to full light. He told his American interlocutors upon arriving in Washington in December 1999 for the Shepherdstown talks with Syria’s foreign minister, Farouk al-Sharaa, that he did not have a mandate to surrender the Golan Heights down to the shores of Lake Tiberias. This represented a step backward from what Rabin had promised the Syrian leader, Hafez al-Assad – showing, not for the last time, that Barak frequently promised what he could not deliver. The Shepherdstown talks collapsed and the prime minister’s reluctance to take risks on the Golan helped push the Syrian-Israeli track into a dead end after Assad held an abortive meeting with Bill Clinton in Geneva.
Barak’s legacy may be safer when it comes to the climactic moment of negotiations with the Palestinians: the Camp David talks of July 2000. The general opinion is that Israel offered the Palestinian leader, Yasser Arafat, major concessions, but that an agreement was derailed by Arafat’s refusal to accept Israeli conditions on Jerusalem. However, that interpretation has been disputed, thanks largely to the publication by Robert Malley, a Clinton administration staffer who was present at the talks, and Hussein Agha of an article in The New York Review of Books questioning the orthodoxy. The “blame Arafat” line, they wrote, “fails to capture why what so many viewed as a generous Israeli offer, the Palestinians viewed as neither generous, nor Israeli, nor, indeed, as an offer.”
Their perspective was challenged by other officials who had been at Camp David, but Barak’s proposals did him no good at home. Once the Palestinians embarked upon a new intifada, the prime minister became a sitting duck. By then the high hopes of the years before had evaporated. Barak had struck out everywhere because he had too confidently imagined he could succeed everywhere. He was defeated by Ariel Sharon in the elections of 2001, resigned as leader of the Labor Party and for years worked outside politics.
The comeback was no more impressive. Only in 2007 did Barak regain leadership of Labor, and then by a narrow margin. In the 2009 elections Labor won a mere 13 seats in the Knesset. Despite initially saying the party would not join the government, Barak reversed course to become defense minister. Other party members were unhappy with this, and the ongoing tension between Barak and his colleagues over peace negotiations with the Palestinians pushed him to go his own way this week.
Perhaps Barak thinks he can do what Sharon did when he left Likud to form Kadima. If so, that, too, would be a sign of an over-adventurous ego. The Israeli defense minister has increasingly seemed little more than a good resume wrapped around a core of inconsequence. He has failed to stake out a position that anyone might readily identify as his. Barak’s compromises with Netanyahu, his refusal to push hard in favor of his declared positions on peace with the Arabs, even the fact that he appears to have misled the Obama administration over his effectiveness in swaying the prime minister, all suggest he is far closer to being an opportunist than the near redeemer he was portrayed as more than a decade ago.
If Barak has become so elastic, that’s because he is adapting to an Israel much different, at least to the outside world, than the one that elected him in 1999. The old parameters, those of an Israeli peace camp squaring off against a pro-settlement camp, were undermined by Sharon, who evacuated Gaza to better consolidate Israeli control over other Palestinian areas. This strategy, of offering absorbable concessions to enhance Israel’s long-term territorial domination, has been imitated by Netanyahu, and poses no problems for most Israeli voters. It’s a testament to Labor’s futility that Israel’s government is made stronger by its ministers’ walk-out.
Barak may have dealt a harsh blow to Labor, but this won’t hasten his own political renaissance. His repositioning makes a good headline, but is not overly meaningful. Perhaps that’s because Israel itself is finding meaningful politics more and more elusive.
Lebanon’s False Choice Between Stability and Justice
Over the years, Lebanon has managed to avoid getting to the bottom of its politically motivated crimes. Its 15-year civil war ended with an amnesty law, even though more than 100,000 people had been killed, including dozens of prominent political and religious figures, among them two presidents. Not surprisingly, with UN indictments for the assassination of former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafiq Hariri now approaching, the country is finding it difficult to deal with the possibility that, in this one case, the pursuit of justice might reach a firmer conclusion.
In the coming weeks, the United Nations' Special Tribunal for Lebanon is expected to confirm indictments against individuals who participated in the suicide bombing that killed Hariri and 21 others on February 14, 2005. Those indicted are expected to include Hezbollah members. The attack provoked mass demonstrations in Beirut directed against Syria, viewed as the likely culprit. By April of that year, Syrian forces had withdrawn from Lebanon; an anti-Syrian coalition won a parliamentary majority soon thereafter.
For Hezbollah, any outcome suggesting its involvement in Hariri's death could prove disastrous, as the mere accusation that its Shiite members facilitated the elimination of a Sunni leader might destroy the party's reputation and effectiveness in Lebanon and the Middle East. Hezbollah's secretary-general, Hassan Nasrallah, has tried to paint the tribunal as an "Israeli project," claiming that Israel killed Hariri and that, backed by the United States, Israel intends to use the institution to undermine Hezbollah's "resistance."
Facing what it sees as an existential threat posed by the indictments, Hezbollah had sought to force the now former Lebanese Prime Minister Saad Hariri, the son of the slain leader, and his allies to sever Lebanon's official ties with the UN tribunal. Hezbollah hoped that Hariri's sponsor, Saudi Arabia, would compel the prime minister to take such a step as part of a months-long dialogue that Riyadh carried out with Syria, which, along with Hezbollah, has also sought to turn Beirut against the tribunal. The Saudis viewed such an agreement as a way of easing a Syrian political comeback to Lebanon; Riyadh prefers an Arab state calling the shots in Beirut to Iran controlling the government through its proxy militia, Hezbollah.
The negotiations ultimately broke down for a variety of reasons, including Hariri's reluctance to go along with any scheme that might weaken the tribunal. More important, the Obama administration intervened earlier this month to warn the Saudis against endorsing any such arrangement. Saudi Arabia ended its mediation, pushing Syria, with Hezbollah's approval, to hasten the Hariri government's downfall.
Syria's game plan is a complex one. Syrian President Bashar al-Assad's main objective is to restore Syrian hegemony over Lebanon. After 2005, Damascus was forced to watch as Iran became the dominant outside actor in Lebanon. Assad would like to regain that status -- but without confronting Tehran and Hezbollah. Syria sought to exploit its talks with the Saudis as a path back to preeminence in Beirut; but when that failed, the Syrians accelerated a government crisis in which the tension between Hezbollah and Hariri reached new levels, allowing Damascus to intervene and mediate a solution. Assad hopes to use such a process to extract concessions from both sides -- above all, the naming of pro-Syrian figures to key posts in the government and security agencies.
Might his plan succeed? Last week, the Hezbollah-led opposition declared that it refused to name Hariri and had enough votes to bring in Omar Karami, a pro-Syrian former prime minister. According to Lebanon's constitution, when a government falls, the president holds a poll with parliamentary blocs to see who has the most votes to form a new government. To achieve its majority, Hezbollah put pressure on Hariri's ally Walid Jumblatt, the leader of Lebanon's Druze community, to switch sides and name Karami. Most Sunnis decried this as an effort to eliminate Hariri politically. It was subtler than that: a Syrian bait and switch to bring in Najib Miqati, a more credible Sunni former prime minister with close ties to Syria. On Tuesday, Miqati got the nod, though the vast majority of Sunni parliamentarians had failed to back him. Sunnis throughout Lebanon immediately took to the streets to demonstrate against the decision, insisting that Hariri was the more legitimate communal representative.
Assad faces risks in such a scenario. Many Sunnis now regard Miqati as a renegade for having helped oust Hariri, and his ability to form a consensual cabinet will be impaired. Hariri has insisted that he will not join a cabinet imposed by Hezbollah, and Syria does not relish having to face a hostile Sunni population. In addition, a government favorable to Damascus will ultimately still be propped up by Hezbollah's guns, which means that Iran, not Syria, retains the final say in Beirut. Israel will be even more wary of such a government than it was of the previous Hariri-led team, heightening prospects for an Israeli military intervention in Lebanon, which could draw Syria into an unwelcome war.
Most controversially, Hezbollah and Syria will ask any new government to dissolve the protocol of cooperation between Lebanon and the special tribunal, cut funding to the institution, and recall the Lebanese judges serving in its offices. If the new government goes ahead with such moves, Syria could be in the front line in facing international censure for leading a cover-up of a major crime. And even a withdrawal of Lebanese support might fail to dent the institution, since funding will be found elsewhere and the judges were appointed by the UN Security Council, not Beirut. Regardless of the exact fate of the tribunal, a crisis between Lebanon and the international community seems assured -- and the repercussions cannot be underestimated.
Much will hinge on the strength of the charges brought by the special tribunal. Its apparent focus on Hezbollah does not necessarily imply Syrian innocence. From the beginning, UN investigators have worked on the assumption that there were several circles in the Hariri plot: the person who committed the crime, namely, a suicide bomber; those who enabled the crime, presumably Hezbollah members, whose identities were uncovered through telecommunications analyses; and those who ordered the crime, which, given power relations in Lebanon in 2005, pointed toward Syria.
The second commissioner of the UN investigation, the Belgian judge Serge Brammertz, suspected Syria but never conducted an aggressive police investigation to confirm his hypothesis. Brammertz was publicly denounced by his predecessor, the German prosecutor Detlev Mehlis, for his alleged lethargy, and former investigators and Lebanese judicial and government officials have been privately critical of his performance. More damning, Brammertz, according to my sources and a Canadian documentary released last November, initially left the most sensitive aspect of the investigation -- the telecommunications analysis pointing toward a possible Hezbollah connection -- to the Lebanese police, which lacked the technical capability to carry out this sensitive work.
It is too early to tell whether Brammertz's failings will prove fatal to the investigation. His successor, Daniel Bellemare, a Canadian judge who became prosecutor of the tribunal in 2009, presented a draft indictment to the court's pretrial judge last week. The confirmation process, during which indictments remain secret, is expected to last until March or April, although the appeals chamber will address matters of law next month, perhaps giving some indication of the prosecution's direction.
Whether or not Bellemare brings convictions is essential -- but it is the ensuing political dynamics in Lebanon that will be most vital, because they will be driven by communal relations. The Sunni community, roughly equal in size to that of the Shiites, has grown increasingly antagonistic to Hezbollah since Hariri's murder. And as usual, regional actors will intervene in the volatile Lebanese mix to achieve their separate political objectives -- not least Syria and Iran but also Israel and the United States.
Hezbollah, egged on by Tehran, will fight to ensure that any new Lebanese government distances itself from the special tribunal. But if the tribunal can prove its accusations, Hezbollah may be caught in a vise. If the party resorts to intimidation to stifle dissent and condemnation after the accusations come out, it could plant the seeds of its own destruction. Browbeating its domestic partners will only further isolate Hezbollah and rally other Lebanese communities against it. A Hezbollah leader lording over Lebanon will represent an invitation for an attack by Israel, which might see an opening to cripple the party if it is isolated. And this time, the Israelis have repeatedly warned that a war would be far worse than in 2006 and Shiite suffering much greater. Even among Shiites, patience with a militant organization that offers only perpetual conflict may wear thin, especially at a time when the community yearns for stability to consolidate its newfound political and economic standing in Lebanon.
The choice between stability and justice is a false one. In Lebanon, stability has been the result of hegemony by outsiders, above all Syria, whose 29-year presence was punctuated by the debasement of justice and constitutional institutions. The international community has given the Lebanese a chance to identify their former prime minister's assassins. They must make the most of it. Distancing Lebanon from the tribunal in the hopes of ensuring stability can only reward the guilty, who will define stability as the permanent forsaking of justice.
In the coming weeks, the United Nations' Special Tribunal for Lebanon is expected to confirm indictments against individuals who participated in the suicide bombing that killed Hariri and 21 others on February 14, 2005. Those indicted are expected to include Hezbollah members. The attack provoked mass demonstrations in Beirut directed against Syria, viewed as the likely culprit. By April of that year, Syrian forces had withdrawn from Lebanon; an anti-Syrian coalition won a parliamentary majority soon thereafter.
For Hezbollah, any outcome suggesting its involvement in Hariri's death could prove disastrous, as the mere accusation that its Shiite members facilitated the elimination of a Sunni leader might destroy the party's reputation and effectiveness in Lebanon and the Middle East. Hezbollah's secretary-general, Hassan Nasrallah, has tried to paint the tribunal as an "Israeli project," claiming that Israel killed Hariri and that, backed by the United States, Israel intends to use the institution to undermine Hezbollah's "resistance."
Facing what it sees as an existential threat posed by the indictments, Hezbollah had sought to force the now former Lebanese Prime Minister Saad Hariri, the son of the slain leader, and his allies to sever Lebanon's official ties with the UN tribunal. Hezbollah hoped that Hariri's sponsor, Saudi Arabia, would compel the prime minister to take such a step as part of a months-long dialogue that Riyadh carried out with Syria, which, along with Hezbollah, has also sought to turn Beirut against the tribunal. The Saudis viewed such an agreement as a way of easing a Syrian political comeback to Lebanon; Riyadh prefers an Arab state calling the shots in Beirut to Iran controlling the government through its proxy militia, Hezbollah.
The negotiations ultimately broke down for a variety of reasons, including Hariri's reluctance to go along with any scheme that might weaken the tribunal. More important, the Obama administration intervened earlier this month to warn the Saudis against endorsing any such arrangement. Saudi Arabia ended its mediation, pushing Syria, with Hezbollah's approval, to hasten the Hariri government's downfall.
Syria's game plan is a complex one. Syrian President Bashar al-Assad's main objective is to restore Syrian hegemony over Lebanon. After 2005, Damascus was forced to watch as Iran became the dominant outside actor in Lebanon. Assad would like to regain that status -- but without confronting Tehran and Hezbollah. Syria sought to exploit its talks with the Saudis as a path back to preeminence in Beirut; but when that failed, the Syrians accelerated a government crisis in which the tension between Hezbollah and Hariri reached new levels, allowing Damascus to intervene and mediate a solution. Assad hopes to use such a process to extract concessions from both sides -- above all, the naming of pro-Syrian figures to key posts in the government and security agencies.
Might his plan succeed? Last week, the Hezbollah-led opposition declared that it refused to name Hariri and had enough votes to bring in Omar Karami, a pro-Syrian former prime minister. According to Lebanon's constitution, when a government falls, the president holds a poll with parliamentary blocs to see who has the most votes to form a new government. To achieve its majority, Hezbollah put pressure on Hariri's ally Walid Jumblatt, the leader of Lebanon's Druze community, to switch sides and name Karami. Most Sunnis decried this as an effort to eliminate Hariri politically. It was subtler than that: a Syrian bait and switch to bring in Najib Miqati, a more credible Sunni former prime minister with close ties to Syria. On Tuesday, Miqati got the nod, though the vast majority of Sunni parliamentarians had failed to back him. Sunnis throughout Lebanon immediately took to the streets to demonstrate against the decision, insisting that Hariri was the more legitimate communal representative.
Assad faces risks in such a scenario. Many Sunnis now regard Miqati as a renegade for having helped oust Hariri, and his ability to form a consensual cabinet will be impaired. Hariri has insisted that he will not join a cabinet imposed by Hezbollah, and Syria does not relish having to face a hostile Sunni population. In addition, a government favorable to Damascus will ultimately still be propped up by Hezbollah's guns, which means that Iran, not Syria, retains the final say in Beirut. Israel will be even more wary of such a government than it was of the previous Hariri-led team, heightening prospects for an Israeli military intervention in Lebanon, which could draw Syria into an unwelcome war.
Most controversially, Hezbollah and Syria will ask any new government to dissolve the protocol of cooperation between Lebanon and the special tribunal, cut funding to the institution, and recall the Lebanese judges serving in its offices. If the new government goes ahead with such moves, Syria could be in the front line in facing international censure for leading a cover-up of a major crime. And even a withdrawal of Lebanese support might fail to dent the institution, since funding will be found elsewhere and the judges were appointed by the UN Security Council, not Beirut. Regardless of the exact fate of the tribunal, a crisis between Lebanon and the international community seems assured -- and the repercussions cannot be underestimated.
Much will hinge on the strength of the charges brought by the special tribunal. Its apparent focus on Hezbollah does not necessarily imply Syrian innocence. From the beginning, UN investigators have worked on the assumption that there were several circles in the Hariri plot: the person who committed the crime, namely, a suicide bomber; those who enabled the crime, presumably Hezbollah members, whose identities were uncovered through telecommunications analyses; and those who ordered the crime, which, given power relations in Lebanon in 2005, pointed toward Syria.
The second commissioner of the UN investigation, the Belgian judge Serge Brammertz, suspected Syria but never conducted an aggressive police investigation to confirm his hypothesis. Brammertz was publicly denounced by his predecessor, the German prosecutor Detlev Mehlis, for his alleged lethargy, and former investigators and Lebanese judicial and government officials have been privately critical of his performance. More damning, Brammertz, according to my sources and a Canadian documentary released last November, initially left the most sensitive aspect of the investigation -- the telecommunications analysis pointing toward a possible Hezbollah connection -- to the Lebanese police, which lacked the technical capability to carry out this sensitive work.
It is too early to tell whether Brammertz's failings will prove fatal to the investigation. His successor, Daniel Bellemare, a Canadian judge who became prosecutor of the tribunal in 2009, presented a draft indictment to the court's pretrial judge last week. The confirmation process, during which indictments remain secret, is expected to last until March or April, although the appeals chamber will address matters of law next month, perhaps giving some indication of the prosecution's direction.
Whether or not Bellemare brings convictions is essential -- but it is the ensuing political dynamics in Lebanon that will be most vital, because they will be driven by communal relations. The Sunni community, roughly equal in size to that of the Shiites, has grown increasingly antagonistic to Hezbollah since Hariri's murder. And as usual, regional actors will intervene in the volatile Lebanese mix to achieve their separate political objectives -- not least Syria and Iran but also Israel and the United States.
Hezbollah, egged on by Tehran, will fight to ensure that any new Lebanese government distances itself from the special tribunal. But if the tribunal can prove its accusations, Hezbollah may be caught in a vise. If the party resorts to intimidation to stifle dissent and condemnation after the accusations come out, it could plant the seeds of its own destruction. Browbeating its domestic partners will only further isolate Hezbollah and rally other Lebanese communities against it. A Hezbollah leader lording over Lebanon will represent an invitation for an attack by Israel, which might see an opening to cripple the party if it is isolated. And this time, the Israelis have repeatedly warned that a war would be far worse than in 2006 and Shiite suffering much greater. Even among Shiites, patience with a militant organization that offers only perpetual conflict may wear thin, especially at a time when the community yearns for stability to consolidate its newfound political and economic standing in Lebanon.
The choice between stability and justice is a false one. In Lebanon, stability has been the result of hegemony by outsiders, above all Syria, whose 29-year presence was punctuated by the debasement of justice and constitutional institutions. The international community has given the Lebanese a chance to identify their former prime minister's assassins. They must make the most of it. Distancing Lebanon from the tribunal in the hopes of ensuring stability can only reward the guilty, who will define stability as the permanent forsaking of justice.
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