Peace Grows Here: Hope for Lebanon and Palestine

10 January

Flying to Lebanon today and excited for what I might find when I land. When I left, it was just a few days after the pager incident — a heinous Israeli terrorist attack that harmed innocent civilians and communities. The country has endured months of Israeli aggression since then — along with Palestine and now Syria.

But yesterday, the country elected a president at long last — a seat that had been vacant for far too long. And today the country is oozing hope. There’s an optimism that hasn’t been felt for a long time — and a long-overdue sense of control.

Lebanon deserves this — freedom, safety, hope, and independence. Full freedom from meddlesome foreign governments and aggressive military forces. Enough now. Lebanese finally have hope for the future — and the possibility of peace in the present.

What is Lebanon? A land of possibility and opportunity, a place of talent and creativity, a rich diverse landscape, a charismatic population. I could say so much — but I leave it to you all to find out what Lebanon is beyond what you see on your screens.

Today the country exhales for the first time in a long time. There’s hope — and joy. And I’m flying right into it.

13 January

Lebanon has a new president — Commander of the Lebanese Armed Forces, Joseph Aoun. And today a new prime minister — Judge and President of the International Court of Justice, Nawaf Salam.

It’s an incredibly hopeful time to be here, with movement towards a future that has been stagnant for years. We’ve got a solid base — two people with integrity who are truly dedicated to the future of this country. Now if only the US would stop its self-interested meddling, and the Israelis would stop their insatiable aggression and bombing, then maybe we’d really have the freedom and autonomy we deserve. Imagine!

But now these two must form a government. There are so many qualified people to choose from — and so many qualified WOMEN to choose from.

Oh, you don’t know Lebanese women? Let me tell you about them. They are incredible — strong and feisty, rebellious and resilient, sharp and savvy. They are survivors. Do not think they are meek. Do not think they are weak. Listen to them — they know what they’re talking about.

Lebanon’s FiftyFiftylb is an organization dedicated to reminding us that these powerful women exist. Fiftyfifty works to promote gender equality in leadership and political decision-making positions. Because — and this should be obvious — we DESERVE to be there.

They’ve just released their list of women who can serve as potential ministers, and I’m beyond honored to be among them. We may say what we will about who is — or is not — there. That’s not the point. This is just a small sample of the home-grown talent among women here.

I am in the company of incredible women who lead organizations and movements, pioneers in science and the law, diplomats and doctors, environmentalists and energy experts, journalists and jurists, revolutionaries and change-makers. These are women who have always been leaders — and who will lead the charge for change in the new Lebanon. They’ve been at work, behind the scenes, since the beginning of time. And now it’s time to know their names and to acknowledge their contributions.

Lebanese women are smart. Determined. Inventive. In a world where we have too often been sidelined, let’s claim these moments as celebrations. As recognitions long overdue. We could be on the cusp of a new Lebanon, one where women are truly treated as equal, where our voices matter and are heard.

I have always believed that we can be a feminist city — a model for the region. Enough of the forever wars that have destroyed centuries of history and generations of people. It is time for new leadership.

It is time for women’s leadership.

15 January

Day 467 of the genocide. A ceasefire may start on 19 January — will it?

This has been the most widely recognized and televised genocide in our shameful human history. I for one will not forget — or forgive — those who allowed it to happen. I will not forget the complicity of world “leaders.” I will not forget the silence of my “friends.” I will not get the murder of men, women, children — and newborn babies. I will not forget the forced starvation. I will not forget the destruction of hospitals, schools, and places of worship. I will not forget the rape of our women. I will not forget the ethnic cleansing.

I will not forget this genocide. Nor should you.
I will not forgive the perpetrators of this genocide. Nor should you.

Meanwhile, a “ceasefire” looms.

Ceasefire is one thing.
Real peace is another.
Justice yet another.
Accountability.
Reconciliation.
And liberation — that above all.

After 467 days, Al Jazeera reports that over 46,000 people have been killed in Gaza by the IOF. 18,000 of those have been children. A staggering death toll after 15 months of non-stop bloodshed and brutality. That’s nearly 100 people EVERY DAY.

Other sites report that the number at the end of June 2024 was closer to 65,000 people. The real answer is that no one really knows. Israel has refused to let up on the bombing and allow journalists, observers, aid, into Gaza, so we can’t know for sure. Whatever it is, it’s worse than we think.

These numbers have stayed stagnant for months. And they are only the official recorded number of deaths, meaning they don’t account for those lost under the rubble or missing. We’ve seen a sharp decline in reported numbers over the past 8 months because the courageous people keeping record have been systematically obliterated.

The healthcare system has been decimated to only 3% of its pre-October 7 size. 69% of structures in Gaza are now damaged or destroyed. And those are just the physical damages. The trauma of this genocide seeps into the very bones of our community and society.

Where do we go from here? We need to rebuild — who will help us do it? The world stood by and allowed us to be slaughtered. Do they now want to benefit from construction contracts to rebuild what they destroyed? They profit from our blood.

But first — will this ceasefire even hold?

The road is long. But, this time, I hope we get there.

19 January

Ceasefire in Gaza.

I want to celebrate, to exhale. But I’m still holding my breath. Is it real? Or is it the kind of ceasefire we have in Lebanon — with daily violations and continued aggressions? How legitimate is this?

And at what cost has this supposed ceasefire come? 15 months. 46,000 killed? 65,000 killed? I think it’s 100,000 killed — possibly more. A starved and exhausted population. An entire generation lost. Children orphaned, crippled, traumatized. A population whose doctors, journalists, humanitarians, artists, have been extinguished. Massive destruction of infrastructure — meaning, total decimation. Schools, hospitals, places of worship, cultural heritage. Any place that might have been safe. Gone.

And the ceasefire is not the end. Will there be military supervision — sort of like an “open air prison”? How will this be different? What about the Palestinians who remain in Israeli custody? What about the West Bank and the unobstructed expansion of illegal settlements? What about the infrastructure that has been destroyed? What about the social services that are needed?

And what about a sustainable solution? One secular state with everyone with full equality? One apartheid state? Two fundamentally unequal states? More of the same? Or less of it — since there’s less of Gaza now? And how will Israel guarantee the very security it is obsessed with when the solution remains fundamentally unjust and the world is watching — and taking sides. What will the US do now — will it do worse under this administration? The bar is very low. Who will account for the war crimes of this genocide?

So yes, I want to celebrate this ceasefire. It is long overdue. But I also want to be sure it’s real- and not an extension of our very bad dream. Wake me up when peace and justice are a reality.

20 January

Today, I visited the parts of Beirut that were destroyed by the Israelis. I need to find a way to express what we are made to do — playing tourist to our own destruction. This, too, I will never forget nor forgive. There’s a blog coming soon on this — when I catch my breath and find my words.

Until then, I’m reminded that today is both US Inauguration Day and Martin Luther King Jr. Day. The irony.

“Make a career of humanity. Commit yourself to the noble struggle for equal rights,” the Reverend said in 1959. “You will make a better person of yourself, a greater nation of your country, and a finer world to live in.”

What might he say today about the state of the world?

It’s easy to lose hope. But as I looked out over the crater of destruction left by the Israelis, I reminded myself that yes, humanity has to prevail. Even if it’s not in my lifetime. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stop fighting for it.

In the evening, I was invited to a film screening for Aida Returns, another masterpiece by the visionary director Carol Mansour. And another experience for which I cannot find words. I’ll write more for sure but in a nutshell the film recounts the journey of Carol’s mother’s ashes to Palestine, her birthplace. She describes the story as both unique and universal. The journey patches together an individual and collective memory and reminds us that our lives in exile deny us the right to return home — even after death.

What does it mean to not be able to go home — even when you’re dead? Carol offers us a poetic view of a rampant injustice. The film goes well beyond the screen. Part of the effort is a virtual museum and advocacy project, a documenting of personal stories to showcase the Palestinian determination to return to their land and their homes. Resistance takes many forms — the journey of these ashes is one.

21 January

Last day in Lebanon.

I’m reminded of all the joy and beauty and richness in being here. And it’s not just Lebanon — it’s the entire SWANA (Southwest Asia and North Africa) region.

I’m also reminded that we’ve had to endure the last 15 months of instant “experts” on the region, offering their (often insulting) opinions. Actually, we’ve had to endure generations of this.

To you who think you know, I say this…

If you’re not from here — you do not understand.
If you haven’t been here — you do not understand.
If you have not taken the time to listen and learn, to visit and experience, to speak to our people and understand our context and our culture, to respect our history and our perspective — you will never understand.

And that is a shame. You have missed something wonderful and magical. And instead perhaps you have done damage with your ignorance. Enough now. Lucky for us, we are stronger than your opinions.

I am happy to be back here.
I am proud to be from here.
And yes — PEACE GROWS HERE.

And one more thought…

At the airport, in the winding line for passport control, I watch a man push his way through three rows, squeezing past people, inconveniencing everyone, accidentally knocking over an old woman’s carry-on. When he reaches his destination — which happens to be the man behind me — he pats the man’s belly and jovially exclaims “Look who’s expanded!”

And we all can’t help but laugh. Because here, it’s both our waistlines and our spirits that expand.