Talking to: Blogger Qifa Nabki
Blogger Elias Muhanna, man behind the blog "Qifa Nabki".
Elias Muhanna, the man behind the blog Qifa Nabki, is a Lebanese blogger whose commentary has appeared in The National, Foreign Policy and other publications. In the run-up to the Lebanese parliamentary elections, Muhanna and his blog were cited and quoted widely in both the blogosphere and the mainstream media. His posts provide unique analysis of Lebanon’s politics for readers around the world, with witty reflections on the possibilities for cabinet formations, and even revealing taxi conversations.
Muhanna, a PhD candidate in Near Eastern Studies at Harvard University, sat down with NOW to discuss Qifa Nabki and what the elections mean for Lebanon.
What is your background?
Elias Muhanna: My family lives here, I’m Lebanese and my mother is American. [I] lived here during the beginning of the civil war and then my family left in the early 80s, and I grew up mostly between Lebanon and Cyprus, so living in Cyprus but coming back and forth during the war. [I] went to college in the US, and… am doing graduate school now. [After I get my PhD,] I’d like to get an academic job and work as a professor, that’s my goal… if I could get a job at AUB, I wouldn’t turn it down; that would be great.
How long have you been writing the blog?
Muhanna: I began the blog in the beginning of October [2008]…my dissertation process began last year…the research for the dissertation began roughly around the time I started the blog.
How did you get into blogging?
Muhanna: I had spent a lot of time reading a lot of blogs [about Lebanon and Syria]. Arab-Israeli stuff too… I disagreed with a lot of what people were saying in the comment sections, and I sort of wanted to debate the issues, and I ended up making a lot of friends… and discovering that many of the contributors were extremely intelligent and had a lot of arguments that I never even encountered or considered. There are certain things that we would still disagree about, but a lot of those people I now count as close friends, and we are respectful of each other’s positions... So, I did a lot of that kind of thing and I thought I’d like to start my own.
What’s the story with the logo?
Muhanna: It’s a detail from a painting that I discovered and I really liked... Since then, I felt kind of sheepish about the fact that it had become the head of Qifa Nabki’s blog and so I actually got in contact with the artist to see if he would be willing to sell me that painting… and so this summer I will actually, hopefully, be able to purchase [it].
What does Qifa Nabki mean?
Muhanna: Qifa Nabki is the first two words of maybe the most famous pre-Islamic classical Arabic poem, and it means, literally “Halt, you two, and let us weep.” It’s sort of the iconic image that begins a lot of classical Arabic poetry, where the poet, this desert nomad, is traveling through the desert with some companions and he happens upon the place where his beloved’s tribe had been encamped and she and her tribe have since moved on… He says to his companions: “Let us stop and let us weep for the memory of a beloved,” and it became a standard trope of a lot of this poetry, and to anyone who has studied Arabic poetry, it’s instantly recognizable, so it’s almost like calling a blog “To be or not to be.”
How popular is the site?
Muhanna: It began with a smattering of hits, and gradually over time – I think because of the elections, there’s a lot of interest, and these things just build, I guess. Every month there have been more and more hits.
What do you think about the media situation in Lebanon today?
Muhanna: I wish there were more responsible media outlets providing more balanced criticism on both sides of the aisle. You can’t find that anywhere. The pro-March 14 media are strident in their support of March 14, [and] the pro-opposition media is incredibly partisan as well… nobody seems to be looking at both sides and criticizing them in a balanced fashion. That’s what I’m aiming for on the blog, but I don’t know how successful I’ve been.
Do you think these were Lebanon’s first free elections since 1975?
Muhanna: I definitely think this is the first free election in decades. To me, 2005 was a one-issue election; it was basically a referendum on Syria. It was run using the 2000 electoral law, which had so many problems in it, and then the way the cabinet was formed and the way the various players participated… it was a disaster. This election, although it was still very much waged on the basis of sectarian language and clan… there was sort of a more issue-based approach, even if the issues were only a couple, like Hezbollah’s weapons and the state vs. reform… But more importantly, there was real competition. We didn’t know who would win this election, and that’s a big thing.
Does the opposition view the results as a backlash against their policies or demography?
Muhanna: I wouldn’t be surprised that some people would think that [Free Patriotic Movement leader MP Michel] Aoun was hurt by his alliance [with Hezbollah]. It’s clear from the numbers that the places in which he won, he didn’t win by nearly as much. I think over the next couple of weeks both sides are going to feel each other out… Nobody really wants to rush into a standoff or a deal; they want to get a sense of each other’s red lines, and try to come up, if a veto [the obstructing-third vote] is not in the offering, some other kind of thing.
What about the calm on elections day?
Muhanna: Another thing that Paul Salem said yesterday [at a Carnegie Center post-election debriefing] was “the fact that in an Arab country, ordinary citizens could determine who is going to govern and who is going to sit in the opposition, all on a quiet Sunday, is a pretty remarkable thing.” I think everybody was shocked by just how amazingly low-key it was. Last weekend was totally chill. There wasn’t even that much celebration afterward.
Is there a battle over the obstructing veto looming?
Muhanna: As of right now, it’s not looking like there’s going to be a huge battle over the veto...which is kind of weird. What was it about this particular result that convinced people to climb down a little bit? If March 14 had won by 70 seats instead of 71, would [March 8] have said, “oh well we’re going to go after the veto.”
Why has Hezbollah acted so conciliatory?
Muhanna: I don’t know, that’s a really good question… There are a lot of factors in play. First of all, [the veto] is totally unconstitutional. In the past there was a debate whose basic premise was when Hezbollah joined the government, the Siniora government back in 2005, they did so under an agreement that was made, under the cabinet decree… Now the situation is totally different and Hezbollah understands that. March 14 didn’t need Hezbollah’s help to get elected, nor did they need the help of the president or independents. They were a non-factor. So it’s difficult to make the case now that you’re for a veto when there is no constitutional basis for it. So I think this is why they are being more conciliatory. Who knows, maybe behind closed doors they have no intention of giving it up.
Is March 14 in a stronger place? Will Saad Hariri be prime minister?
Muhanna: The position is his to take. If he wants to be prime minister, there is no alternative to him. Everybody will accept him. I just don’t know if he wants to be prime minister… I still have a feeling that [Tripoli MP Najib] Mikati is going to step in. Mikati played a really excellent role in the transitional cabinet between when Omar Karami’s government fell back in 2005, and when March 14 won... And the fact that he has very strong ties to both Damascus and to Riyadh makes him an ideal fit for this period that we’re in right now. He’s incredibly eloquent; he’s just a very good speaker... It all comes down to the advice that Saad Hariri is getting. If he’s getting really good advice, I think he will choose Mikati and they have to start reaching out to the FPM.
This interview was originally published on NOW Lebanon on June 10, 2009.
Straight from the Notebook
I've typed up some notes from an interview I conducted with a thorougly defeated man. He was an Iraqi refugee living in Amman, and he was a Sabean. His comments underscore the sectarian cleavages that have grown in Iraq, as well as the despair that has enveloped those who were chased from the country. These notes are fully unedited, from the original broken English and Arabic translation, but I think by reading them this way you get a better sense of how the interview went.
The man was short and had a sad, handsome face. His hair was graying and he was slight in size and stature. His young children darted in and out of the room as we conducted the interview. They inched along, backs to the wall, eyes fixed on me because I was an outsider.
--------------------------------------------
Back to Amman - 8/13/09
Before the war -
name-Nasser Mosat
AGE-45
When he came to Jordan...
he is Sabean
We are 18,000 in the whole world, because its few and theyre well-educated, education of children. "Our religion depends on peace + knowledge in life,"
They're an ancient religion, before Islam, Christianity, before Jews...
Iraq is their real country
John the Baptist - they baptized Jesus. Muslims don't accept anything different, anything diff. is wrong
Sheikhs are politicians, they want to control other people
Before 2003 before no tension - his opinion there was gvmt to protect them
-->more about muslims *how it changed how people
whole family killed in iraq. bro, sis, mother, killed by mehdi army, doesn't care about ngos
he doesn't like to ask
got $ from Care, never uses
he has bad things, missile killed his 13 other family members
"I'm not Iraqi anymore"
existed before war
"militias told me to leave iraq + i said i'm not iraqi anymore."
before the war a lot of missionaries tried to convert them to islam
-->palpable tension between the sects in iraq
"we leave death in iraq, to a slow death in jordan"
he never goes to ask for handouts because its not what i want "it's not who i am."
"my future is finished, i have just the future of my children."
made interview w/ aus. resettlement. waited 8 months for response from Australia.
Thinks it will be 1 year for Australia, even w/ answer they must wait one more year.
Doesn't understand why its so late. They must find some solution for us.
Muslims can go back to Iraq when better Sabeans must stay in Jordan or trans to another country. I hope there are some place for us to go, they must.
"I'm out of patience and out of money," just wants a peaceful place for kids and family
employment
When the UN called about resettlement@UNHCR, they sat for 5 hours and interviewer began to cry
she asked where does he want to go, australia
they asked w/ which party they worked w/
they bribed the un and if you work for someone big or bribe you get processed more quickly
all savings are gone. -now getting help, gets some help from relatives
spends $500/mo w/ good health
$600/mo 5 person family
prices of food have gone up. heard australia better than other countries
harder for him to move to australia than others
These people, our religion don't want material possession. Simple peaceful life
"I've lost most of my life and I can't make it up. I'm now just living for my kids."
Sabeans fleeing persecution in Iraq find cold refuge in reluctant Jordan
Asel recounts his story as an Iraqi refugee.
AMMAN -- Asel didn’t come to Jordan because he wanted to. Neither did his parents. They, like so many others, stole out of their native Iraq at the last minute, when word came that gangs were coming to kill their family.
Since that fateful morning in 2004, Asel, his two brothers, and his parents have been in Jordan passing time waiting for something that might enable them to end their limbo and move on. They won’t to go back to Iraq, so great was the trauma that caused them to leave.
They were targeted because they are Sabean, a small religious group in Iraq who trace their creed back to the teachings of St. John the Baptist. In the turbulent days years since the beginning of the US-led war in Iraq, Asel’s family and many Sabeans received death threats demanding ransom and conversion. His brother’s botched kidnapping shook his family, but not until the warnings of imminent death did they decide to flee. So sudden was their escape that the family brought no clothes and made no preparations for their arrival in Amman.
In Jordan’s capital, Asel’s family has made al-Hashemi al Shemali their home. There, in a neighborhood previously inhabited by poor Palestinians, countless Iraqi families live in what could best be described as impoverished purgatory. They fear that the simplest trouble could mean a one-way ticket back to Iraq, which for many would mean a death sentence. So they stay, silently.
Asel tried to convey the overwhelming boredom that has plagued his four-year stay in Amman. He and his other Iraqi friends described day after day of never leaving their apartments, unable to work, openly play, or even attend school. (Only last year, the Jordanian government opened public schools to Iraqi refugees, and many are unsure whether they will be able to return for the coming school year.) Books and television have been Asel’s sole sources of entertainment for four years, during which he has only been able to complete two years of schooling, one public, and one parochial.
But they do have satellite television. Holed up in their small apartment, the two eldest brothers have watched enough American movies to fill in their remaining gaps in English. Asel, with little formal English education, ably served as this reporter’s translator. Their family, though very poor, is not unique. According to a study of Iraqis in Jordan conducted in May 2007 by Fafo, a Norwegian research institute, nearly 95% of Iraqis in the country have access to satellite television in their homes. But day-to-day living expenses, exacerbated by recent inflation in food and fuel prices, are the most difficult ones for them to manage. TV, filled with hundreds more channels than the one Iraqis previously knew, has proven to be this family’s one escape.
Unlike other refugee crises of the past several decades, the plight of Iraqis in Jordan is not one characterized by starvation or widespread homelessness. Rather, it is a muffled crisis that involves political and economic insecurity of a large, previously middle class group that has been forced into the underbelly of an unwelcoming society, where they have no rights, and no guarantee that they will not be sent back to their homeland, where many of them fear death. Many watch silently as family members slowly expire, unable to obtain the medications that, lacking Jordanian citizenship, are too expensive for them to obtain.
This fear of deportation is what keeps people like Asel and his family inside, shying away from extended periods walking in the street. They do go out, but the slim chance that the police will stop them for some transgression is enough to keep them home most of the day. According to the UNHCR in Amman, there is an unspoken rule that Jordanian police ignore the status of Iraqis, but stories of forced deportation are rife among refugee communities.
Not all Iraqis in Jordan are like Asel’s family, however. One man who works in the main produce market near the King Hussein Mosque came during the first Iran-Iraq war and has stayed, unhindered, until 2003. The recent deluge of Iraqis from the new Gulf War, and the ensuing political pressures on Iraqi communities from the Jordanian government, forced him to obtain an asylum seeker certificate from the UNHCR. This man still sends money home to his two wives and family in Basra.
There is a movement to diagnose the problem of the Iraqi refugee crisis in Jordan, Syria, and Lebanon, with the intention of finding a silver bullet. With such a varied and unconventional refugee population, policymakers have struggled to find solutions. Their predicament is completely dependent on external factors, and few will consider returning before a significant improvement in the security situation. Others vow they will never return, because for them, Iraq will never be the same.
Their situation has been improved by some ad hoc measures, such as the Jordanian government’s decision to allow Iraqi children to attend public schools, but such changes do nothing to speed up the process of resettlement by foreign governments, or to bring increased stability to Iraq. One measure that would likely ease the strain on Iraqi families in Jordan, the provision of work permits, is met by universal condemnation by a government fearful of alienating a population facing high unemployment rates. Even the granting of official recognition is too much for the Jordanian government, who fear a repeat of the normalization of the Palestinian refugee population.
But aside from work, what most Sabeans hope most for is a way to leave Jordan, and to begin a new life in the US, Britain, Australia, or Sweden. Political forces have forced them out of Iraq, and political forces keep them in limbo, and so they continue to wait.