Today would be Samir Kassir’s birthday and he would celebrate it. He would be fifty-five. Lebanon would celebrate (with) him. He would be happy.
But that will never happen since Samir Kassir was assassinated ten years ago.
/Samir Kassir, photo via ballandalus/
Born to a Palestinian father and a Syrian mother, Kassir was one of the most well known intellectuals of the Arab left. He was a professor of history and a journalist. He was a strong supporter of the Palestinian cause, and of secular democracy throughout the Middle East. He was a vocal critic of the Syrian presence in Lebanon – many say that’s what (or who) killed him.
From 1981 to 2000, Kassir contributed to Le Monde Diplomatique. In 1998 he became an editorial writer for the daily An Nahar newspaper and was widely known for his popular weekly column. He wrote numerous books – about Lebanese civil war, history of Beirut, Israeli – Palestinian conflict and Arab identity.His most famous and probably most important work is Being Arab, in which he popularized the concept of the “Arab malaise”.
In Being Arab, Kassir writes:
“‘Arab’ itself is so impoverished a word that it’s reduced in places to a mere ethnic label with overtones of censure, or, at best, a culture that denies everything modernity stands for.”
He continues, describing the “Arab malaise”:
“The Arab malaise is also inextricably bound up with the gaze of the Western Other – a gaze that prevents everything, even escape. Suspicious and condescending by turns, the Other’s gaze constantly confronts you with your apparently insurmountable condition. It ridicules your powerlessness, foredooms all your hopes, and stops you in your tracks time and again at one or other of the world’s broder-crossings. You have to have been the bearer of a passport of a pariah state to know how categorical such a gaze can be. You have to have measured your anxieties against the Other’s certainties – his or her certainties about you – to understand the paralysis it can inflict.
Still, you could conceivably overcome, or even simply ignore, the Western gaze. But how can you avoid returning it, and measuring yourself against its reflection?”
In the article Who killed Samir Kassir?, Robert Fisk wrote:
“‘He always left home at 10.30am and I saw him walking across the street,’ a female neighbour told me yesterday. ‘He always left home at the same time. He opened the door of his car, sat inside and started the engine. Then the car blew up.’
Close inspection of Mr Kassir’s Alfa-Romeo, registration number 165670, showed clearly the blast came from beneath the driver’s seat. It tore open the roof, blasted out the driver’s door, smashed the steering column and hurled Mr Kassir on to the passenger seat. The ignition seems to have detonated the bomb.
This was a shock that no one in Beirut expected – except, of course, the assassins. Germany’s top detective, Detlev Mehlis, is already here with his team to investigate the murder of the former prime minister Rafik Hariri in February. We all thought that Lebanon’s assassins were in their rabbit holes, fearful of arrest.
But no, they are still on operational duty, still in killing mode. Nassib Lahoud, the opposition MP and friend of Kassir – he may be the next Lebanese president – was in tears when I spoke to him beside Mr Kassir’s wrecked car. He talked about ‘criminal hands’, about the ‘intelligence apparatus’ who he blamed for the assassination. The only word he didn’t use was ‘Syria’.
So who murdered Samir Kassir?”
The question remains. The answers are being whispered around Beirut for ten years now, but the overall silence drowns those whispers, and it drowns all the tears and screams that came with the news of Kassir’s death.
And he was not the only one. It was one of the many political assassinations that occurred in Lebanon from 2004 to 2008. May Chidiac, also a critic of Syrian policies in Lebanon, managed to survive when a car bomb detonated as she entered her car – but she lost an arm and a leg. Samir Kassir’s colleague, An Nahar’s chief editor, and top anti-Syria legislator Gebran Tueni, was killed by a car bomb just couple of months after Kassir. That’s just to name a few.
So who killed them? We still “don’t know”. When will we be ready to know?
Unlike his life and his work, the killing of Samir Kassir remains wrapped in silence, tied with cowardice. Let us remember that and let us remember him.
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