Published on Annahar on May 24,2020 |16:34
Lately it seems, whenever Lebanese politicians find themselves in a bind, the go-to has become to take their audience on a wild train ride of fanciful fiction. Some have promised metro transportation systems, others grand-scale highway projects, and some the elusive grand treat of 24-hour electricity! More recently the laundry list of fanciful projects has expanded to wilder claims, including massive touristic developments, offshore islands, and maglev trains—all transporting Lebanon to a prosperous future. At a time when Lebanon is in a tail-spin dive due to economic mismanagement, one first and foremost must wonder whether any of the fiction that they are peddling is justified. I should know …
Last year, I published a new book, a novel titled Fina (KDP, 2019). My previous books on Lebanon had all been non-fictional and of a political economy nature—firmly chained to either evidence or contemporaneous analysis. For Fina, my first novel, I wanted to let my imagination roam. And so, I started chronicling the fictional life of Raja, a young Lebanese expat who left his homeland at the beginning of this century, swearing never to return. Decades later, in his golden years, he suddenly feels compelled to return home to bid a final farewell to someone he had held dear. What follows is a trip through a utopian futuristic Lebanon, utterly disassociated from the one he had left. Everything from agriculture to industry to educational institutions, historical monuments, parks, highways, tunnels, train systems, robots, all the way to responsible citizens and, yes, caring leaders governed by a bill of rights! It would leave the novel’s main character—and through him hopefully the reader—in utter astonishment, making ironic mockery of a pretty dismal present.
Some have asked me whether it was easier to write such a whimsical science-fiction than a factual book. It was harder and took longer. The reason for this was perhaps most eloquently described by Mark Twain when he once famously said, “The difference between fiction and nonfiction is that fiction must be absolutely believable.” Meaning, while fiction could be imagined or even exaggerated, it still must be based on some facts that the reader can somehow believe or relate to. It is this intricate interlacing of fiction with fact, which makes the genre more challenging. Presumably the same applies to all art pieces, including those being expressed by verbose Lebanese politicians. Therefore, when one hears them speak, the first question that should come to mind is whether they are touting works of non-fiction or fiction.
If on the one hand, it is a non-fiction, then the suggestion would be for it to be presented with a healthy dose of factual evidence. As an example, if the politician presents 24/24-hour electricity plans, they should delve into the details of what, how, when, and where. And if they happened to be somehow involved in that sector before, they must explain why they had failed their nation then; and what could possibly be different now for them to merit being re-entrusted. More generally, anyone who is or has been in leadership positions has to be able to explain what exactly has changed to suddenly permit them to embark on grandiose visions, given their failures in executing much smaller tasks before.
If on the other hand, their art form is purely fictional, then out of common courtesy, they should start by noting it to their audience. They should then buildup a selection of credible facts to buttress their work of fiction. Yes, it would be nice to imagine having Caribbean islands facing the Lebanese shore, but is it climatically and architecturally viable? Is it environmentally friendly? Is it ecologically sustainable? Is it even touristically advisable? And is it financially even possible? The suspension of any such forms of justification risks shattering their illusory visions and making the whole exercise nothing more than fictional escape, kind of like my book!
Unfortunately, it seems the more Lebanon has been deteriorating, the more detached the politician’s visions have become and the higher the balloon of fantasy, leading to a complete suspension of reality not befitting any respectable work of fiction. But why this disconnect between fact and fiction? Is it the laziness of genius—would anyone dare question Picasso for simply drawing silhouettes and challenging his viewers to fill in the colors with their imagination? Is it some naivety or the loss of touch with any semblance of reality most common in moments of psychological despair? Or is it perhaps some narcissistic survival mode switch that is willing to peddle any fictional account to cruelly detract the people from their impending hunger instead of attempting to do something about it?
Regardless of the reasons behind all their fiction, there is one irreconcilable fact in their story: No matter how much Lebanese politicians try to sell imaginary maglev trains transporting Lebanon into the future, the only trains they are leaving behind are rusted steam trains, which stopped working decades ago.
Wissam Yafi is an author, technologist and economic development practitioner. He has written books on democracy in Lebanon and the Middle East, with "Inevitable Democracy in the Arab World" published by Palgrave MacMillan. Yafi has lectured at Harvard, Stanford, and Georgetown. His latest research centers on how a Bill of Rights can serve as a counterweight instrument to correct dysfunctional constitutions in Lebanon and the Middle East. Yafi is a Lebanese expat and graduate of Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government.
