[News] It Is Late, but It Is Early Morning If We Insist a Little

[Anti-Imperialist News]

*It Is Late, but It Is Early Morning If We Insist a Little:
The Thirty-Third Newsletter (2020) - August 13, 2020*


Jamil Molaeb (Lebanon), Untitled, October 2019.

Jamil Molaeb (Lebanon), /Untitled/, October 2019.

Dear friends,

Greetings from the desk of the *Tricontinental: Institute for Social 
Research* 
<https://leftword.us11.list-manage.com/track/click?u=6a79324d3b4acfde1e7e546c6&id=b85ffd19ee&e=d206d0a40d>.

Nothing happens in Beirut and Lebanon that is transparent; plots of all 
kinds unravel against the ordinary hopes of the population. After the 
deadly explosion, it was impossible to imagine that the most reasonable 
explanation would be accepted. Rumours flew around, except the rumours 
did not have their impact. It was clear to the people that this time – 
unlike so many times previously – it was their own political system that 
had to be held accountable for the enormous explosion, which came in the 
midst of a pandemic, a currency and economic crisis, and a long-standing 
and unresolved political quagmire.

>From Tricontinental: Institute for Social Research comes Red Alert no. 
8: The Explosion in Beirut. 
<https://leftword.us11.list-manage.com/track/click?u=6a79324d3b4acfde1e7e546c6&id=994ec53b3f&e=d206d0a40d> 
This red alert has been put together by organisations and people from 
Lebanon, for whose input we are grateful.


    *Red Alert: The Explosion in Beirut*

In the early evening of August 4, a fire broke out in Warehouse 12 at 
the Port of Beirut, the capital of Lebanon (population 6.8 million, 
including over a million refugees). An enormous plume of smoke rose from 
the fire, which was then overshadowed by an explosion whose powerful 
force tore outwards and shattered parts of Beirut. The port was 
immediately levelled; the pressure wave reached around 15 kilometres in 
all directions. At least 70,000 homes have been damaged, some no longer 
inhabitable; at least 160 people were killed; 5,000 people were injured; 
unknown numbers still missing; two hospitals were destroyed. This is the 
largest explosion ever experienced in Lebanon, despite its history of 
French colonialization, US interventions, Israeli attacks and 
occupations, and its 15-year civil war.


      *What happened?*

It did not take long for the evidence to appear that what had exploded 
was not a ship with weapons or fireworks or a missile, but a building 
that housed 2,750 tonnes of ammonium nitrate, which had been stored 
negligently in a port warehouse since November 2013.

Ammonium nitrate is a flammable chemical that is used in fertiliser, 
explosives, and rocket fuel. In 2013, the MV Rhosus, a Moldovan-flagged 
cargo ship, arrived in Beirut with this cargo; the ship was headed to 
Beira (Mozambique). Port officials impounded the ship, which was not 
seaworthy, and impounded what they called the ‘dangerous cargo’. Six 
times between 2014 and 2017, the customs officials asked the judge of 
urgent matters in Beirut for guidance on how to sell or dispose of the 
cargo. It is likely that the ammonium nitrate had arrived in the form of 
Nitroprill, which is a blasting agent used in coal mines. Even a small 
fire can cause the ammonium nitrate to explode catastrophically. 
Fireworks were also stored in the same warehouse. More than 19 officials 
have been arrested, including the director of the Port of Beirut and the 
customs director. An investigation is underway.

Paul Guiragossian (Lebanon), La Grande Marche (1987).

Paul Guiragossian (Lebanon), /La Grande Marche/ (1987).


      *What is an accident?*

An accident is something that cannot be foreseen, where there is no 
human agency responsible for what has taken place. The explosion in 
Beirut on 4 August was not an accident. The highly flammable cargo was 
held in a warehouse for over six years; this warehouse, in Beirut’s 
port, abuts the residential neighbourhoods of Gemmayze and Karantina. 
Over the past six years, customs officials – with clear political 
affiliations – leaked reports about the danger. The authorities were 
aware of the possibility of an explosion. They did nothing.

The explosion is the cherry on top of the horrors of a thirty-year 
post-civil war political structure that saw civil war militia leaders 
turn in their fatigues for business suits. The 1990 Taif Accords meeting 
to end the civil war did not hold anyone accountable. It did exactly the 
opposite and legitimised the sectarian leadership in the country’s 
government; sectarian warlords of the civil war became the custodians of 
the state they destroyed. A corrupt political class has enriched itself 
while defunding schools, hospitals, and all public services; they turned 
these services into clientelist vehicles. Furthermore, the neoliberal 
order and reconstruction that was put in place by former billionaire 
prime minister Rafik Hariri entrenched a resilient crony capitalist 
system which already had its roots in Lebanon before the civil war. 
Hariri’s reconstruction focused strictly on attracting and benefiting 
from foreign investments from Gulf countries to replenish the lucrative 
banking sector (in which most politicians have direct stakes), rebuild 
an exclusive downtown owned by his corporation, Solidere, and other 
corruption-riddled and non-productive sectors.

The deeply rooted clientelist nature of the Lebanese sectarian system 
and its organic links to foreign interests further allowed leaders of 
sectarian groups to maintain power. Their ability to provide basic 
services to their followers using state apparatuses and resources 
dwindled as their greed grew and their practices went unchecked. Most 
importantly, their ability to protect the population from disasters 
diminished as did their interest in doing so. The details of how this 
ammonium nitrate ended up in the port for six years are not as important 
as the callous, dysfunctional, and archaic Lebanese sectarian system 
which has never been able to hold anyone in power accountable.


      *What will be the economic consequence?*

Although designated as an upper-middle-income country, Lebanon’s 
previously existing inequalities and poverty have been exacerbated by 
the Syrian crisis; the after-effects of thirty years of political 
infighting and related unsustainable economic policies; an uprising 
against the political class in October 2019; multiple Israeli invasions; 
and now the pandemic. The Lebanese lira has lost 80% of its value since 
September 2019, with little hope of any solution to the liquidity and 
credit crisis as well as the collapse of consumer demand and the rise of 
hyper-inflation. Ironically, the cash that is expected to flow into the 
country as aid in response to the disaster would extend the lifeline of 
the ruling class and postpone its inevitable collapse.

Globally, Lebanon hosts the highest number of refugees in relation to 
its population with an estimated 1.5 million refugees from neighbouring 
Syria joining the 200,000 Palestinian refugees who have been denied the 
right to return to their homeland for generations. Even prior to 
Lebanon’s currently accelerating financial disintegration, in 2019 youth 
unemployment was estimated at nearly 40%, while 73% of Syrian refugees, 
65% of Palestinians, and 27% of the Lebanese population were living in 
poverty. In June 2020, it was estimated that nearly half of the 
country’s population has been pushed into poverty. Migrant domestic 
workers – of whom there are hundreds of thousands in the country living 
under a legal /kafala/ system that has been equated to modern-day 
slavery – are suffering even more as their employers refuse to pay them; 
they have no way to return to their home countries. The colossal damage 
wreaked by the explosion to homes, hospitals, organisations, and 
businesses – especially the port through which 80% of Lebanon’s needed 
goods are imported – has pushed the country over the edge.

Lebanon used to have one of the most advanced healthcare systems in the 
Arab world. However, the neoliberal policies of the Lebanese ruling 
class have destroyed the health system, which has collapsed in the face 
of the COVID-19 pandemic. The country has 26 public hospitals and 138 
private hospitals; 90% of its basic medicines and 100% of its medical 
equipment are imported. Medical workers have protested the lack of pay; 
patients cannot be accommodated in the hospitals.

The destruction of this key port leaves the country virtually unable to 
resupply itself with food and medicine (the port at Tripoli can – at 
best – accommodate only 40% of the capacity that used to come through 
Beirut); silos near the explosion which housed months of supplies of 
grain have been destroyed; government subsidies for medicine, bread, and 
gas are slated to be revoked. The overall economic damage to the country 
is significant – upwards of $5 billion for a country with an optimistic 
GDP of $56 billion.

Zena Assi (Lebanon), Beirut, My City, 2010.

Zena Assi 
<https://leftword.us11.list-manage.com/track/click?u=6a79324d3b4acfde1e7e546c6&id=14f69454fb&e=d206d0a40d> 
(Lebanon), /Beirut, My City/, 2010.


      *What will be the political outcome?*

Since 17 October 2019, Lebanon has witnessed continuous protests due to 
corruption and the deterioration of the social situation, as well as 
economic, environmental, and political crises. Protests have taken place 
over the past nine months for regular electricity and water, accountable 
institutions free of corruption, a reliable judiciary, a secure 
currency, as well as a non-sectarian political and economic system.

Emanuel Macron, the President of France, came to Beirut, summoned and 
scolded political leaders, lectured them about statesmanship, and made 
promises for money and reform. Meanwhile, not far away, young people 
demanded freedom for political prisoner George Ibrahim Abdallah, held in 
a French prison; political considerations have prompted French 
authorities to decline a court ruling for his release. The French-led 
donor’s conference raised €250 million of emergency aid for Lebanon, 
which comes with strings attached to deepen dependence on the 
International Monetary Fund and its socio-economic conditions.

Since the bombing, it has been groups of mostly young people, not 
government officials or workers, who have been cleaning up the streets 
and helping people affected by the bombing from the working-class 
neighbourhoods in Karantina to the café neighbourhood of Gemmayze. The 
political class lost no time in trying to capitalise on the 
‘opportunities’ arising from the explosion, even as bodies and even 
survivors were still being dug out from the rubble.

On 8 August, massive street protests called for immediate 
accountability, including an immediate investigation with swift results 
and the arrest of senior government officials responsible for this 
catastrophe. Protestors stormed ministries and other institutions in a 
symbolic act of reclaiming the country. The state crackdown has been 
severe, but it has not dampened the mood of the population.

On 8 August 2020, Bishop Pedro Casaldáliga Plá died 
<https://leftword.us11.list-manage.com/track/click?u=6a79324d3b4acfde1e7e546c6&id=342da822a8&e=d206d0a40d> 
at Santa Casa de Batatais Hospital in the state of São Paulo. A Catholic 
priest born in Spain, Casaldáliga was a major force in liberation 
theology and a crucial ally of Brazil’s indigenous communities. In 1971, 
he wrote a pastoral letter, ‘The Church of the Amazon in conflict with 
large landowners and social marginalisation’, which attacked the 
inhumane system that expressed itself as genocide against the indigenous 
communities in the Amazon. His great feeling for humanity was expressed 
in his poetry. In his memory, we share his poem /Nuestra hora/, ‘It is 
our time’.

    It is late
    but it is our time.

    It is late
    but it is all the time
    that we have on hand
    to make the future.

    It is late
    but it is us
    this late hour

    It is late
    but it is early morning
    if we insist a little.

Casaldáliga’s Brazil is currently in deep distress, with over 100,000 
people killed by COVID-19 and over three million people infected with 
the disease. Trade unions that represent Brazilian health workers, as 
well as organisations of Afro-Brazilians and indigenous communities, 
have delivered a lawsuit to the International Criminal Court; they 
charge President Jair Bolsonaro with crimes against humanity. Please 
read my report 
<https://leftword.us11.list-manage.com/track/click?u=6a79324d3b4acfde1e7e546c6&id=77ed33a18e&e=d206d0a40d> 
on this crucial court case.

As part of the report, I asked Jhuliana Rodrigues, a nurse technician at 
the Hospital São Vicente in Jundiaí, about her courage to go to work in 
such negligent conditions. ‘If I don’t continue working now’, Jhuliana 
told me, ‘what would I do? Health professionals are chosen and do their 
jobs with love, dedication, care of human beings. Just as we already 
live with multi-resistant bacteria, COVID-19 will be with us for a long 
time’. Jhuliana and essential workers across the world carry forward the 
courage of Bishop Pedro Casaldáliga.

Warmly, Vijay.










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