Book Reviews: The Social Life of Memory. Violence, Trauma and Testimony in Lebanon and Morocco.

Norman Saadi Nikro and Sonja Hegasy, eds. The Social Life of Memory. Violence, Trauma, and Testimony in Lebanon and Morocco. Palgrave, 2017.

The volume is a part of a book series exploring the relationship between cultural heritage and conflict. It derives from the research project Transforming Memories: Cultural Production and Personal/Public Memory in Lebanon and Morocco (2012-2014). The volume brings together scholars from various theoretical backgrounds, including social anthropology, geography, comparative literature, Middle Eastern studies and cultural studies, to contribute to the field of social-memory studies. The key theme of the volume is the different meanings of memory in its relations with time and place. In eight chapters, the reader finds examples from literature, journalism, films and urban landscapes that constitute the social life of memory in various aesthetic forms, political mobilization and intergenerational relationships.

In the introductory chapter, the editors provide a rationale for studying Morocco and Lebanon together. Despite their distinct political and social contexts, Morocco and Lebanon have similar experiences of violence that were often characterized by enforced disappearance and direct clashes. The editors argue that, despite the different trajectories of the respective postcolonial histories of Lebanon and Morocco, the people in both countries have experienced repeated violence, patterns that persist despite many positive initiatives in education, cultural production, the economy and public welfare. In both Lebanon and Morocco, the political situations are characterized by protest movements of new generations, who discover new forms of preserving and transforming memory in both private and public realms. These practices show that dealing with the past is not a prerogative of the states and cannot be limited to formal practices of commemoration.

Chapter two suggests a novel understanding of waiting as a prolongation of violence after the period of political repressions during the reign of Morocco’s Hassan II between 1961 and 1999, known as the Years of Lead. On the other hand, waiting is also conceptualized as a political position taken by the family members of the disappeared. By giving a detailed account of one disappeared political activist’s and his family’s experience of waiting, Laura Menin brings to the fore the potential of waiting as a form of protest and political mobilization. She shows the multiple meanings of waiting in order to capture the effects of the politics of disappearance.

Temporality is a key theme in the intergenerational transformation of memory. Chapters seven through nine approach what Marianne Hirsch calls “postmemory” from different perspectives, partly through the storytelling and testimony of older generations who bear witness and new generations that have different (if any) knowledge about what happened. The authors show how sectarian narratives reveal different layers of memories (within family, political parties and sectarian communities, cultural memories and students’ own reinterpretations) and influence the intergenerational transformation of memory.

In Chapter nine, dealing with local activism in the Rif region of Morocco, postmemory takes another form. The narratives of those who experienced and participated in uprisings (including the uprisings in 1984 and 1987, known as the Bread riots) constitute a foundational ground for the contemporary activism both in Morocco and among the Moroccan Berber diaspora.

The comparative mode of the volume emerges in the two empirical contexts of Morocco and Lebanon and within the conceptual level. The foundational conceptual discrepancy originates from Pierre Nora’s thesis that memory has become concentrated as lieu, that is a formal practice of commemoration. Contrary to Nora’s thesis, the contributors to the volume suggest that their research shows, firstly, how different social and cultural practices put forward a broader understanding of memory as social environment or milieu. Secondly, they suggest that memory takes place as tensions between lieu and milieu, i.e. tension between official practice of commemoration and other practices of preserving memory that are initiated in societies.

Several chapters of the volume contribute to the field of memory studies by bringing a critical perspective on the ways that memory is understood and how the past may be reinterpreted through the future. A number of “how” questions are stated in order to specify the focus of the volume: e.g., “how emerging, local practices of social exchange and cultural production involve re-socializations of memories of trauma and violence” (p.8).

The diverse theoretical backgrounds of the contributors lead to various methodologies being applied and some authors are more transparent with the way they approach the material than others. Pamela Chrabieh in Chapter seven is particularly clear, while the others are less well articulated—Chapter three is an example. Some chapters are more theoretically substantive than others, which augments their contribution. Chapter eight, written by Norman Saadi Nikro, offers an excellent example bridging the conceptual and empirical domains, as he analyzes interviews of an older generation conducted by high-school students within the oral history project Badna Naaref (we want to know) through the relational prism of bearing witness.

Even though each chapter provides insight into the studied contexts, it may be challenging to draw conclusions about the conceptual relevancy of individual experiences, works of art and other examples for a broader context of managing postcolonial history. Moreover, the volume offers controversial and diverging evaluations of one and the same entity, including, for example, the Moroccan Equity and Reconciliation Commission (ERC). While Laura Menin focuses on the shortcomings of the ERC’s failure to name the perpetrators and the absence of criminal prosecution, Sonja Hegasy and Brahim El Guabli describe the positive effects of the ERC on the Moroccan civil society, media landscape and its potential for bringing mnemonic justice. Those different approaches to the same process exemplify the core thesis of the volume. The chapters of the book do not provide guidelines for historical judgements, instead they show the multiple ways of interpreting and engaging with the past, where it is not truth that shapes the history, but the future and its needs.

The overall impression of the book is positive. Contributing to social-memory studies, the volume is also a contribution to the transitional justice literature. Even though the concept of memory takes central place, the chapters reflect on problems of justice, forgiving and living together. The book attempts to bridge gaps between the theoretical concepts and practice, where individual experiences from real people give a face and voice to the abstract notions of memory and history, time and place. After reading the volume, reader gets a palette of different meanings of memory as a social practice, as an event. Having shown different examples of the social life of memory in postcolonial Morocco and Lebanon, the authors succeed in elucidating the idea of memory as milieu and show the tensions between the formal official account of memory and radical social and political practices.

That said, in order to grasp the multifaceted contexts, methodological and conceptual nexuses, the reader would benefit from being familiar with the Moroccan and Lebanese contexts before reading the volume. Moreover, I wish there were more interaction between the chapters, specifically within the introductory chapter. Different methodological and theoretical explanations leave an impression of incoherency. Although the separate chapters have value in themselves, they are not happily assembled in one book. Alternatively, there could have been a concluding chapter that would tie together all the various ideas and projects the volume contains.

ALEXANDRA LEBEDEVA
Uppsala University– Source: historicaldialogues.org/2020/02/05/book-review-the-social-life-of-memory-violence-trauma-and-testimony-in-lebanon-and-morocco/

Book Review 2: (March 2019):Imai, H. (2019). In: International Sociology34 (2), 178–180.

Interview with Pamela Chrabieh by Itsliquid Group, Venice – Italy


It's Liquid Logo

INTERVIEW: PAMELA CHRABIEH

Interview: Pamela Chrabieh
Luca Curci talks with Pamela Chrabieh during ANIMA AMUNDI FESTIVAL 2019 – VISIONS at Palazzo Ca’ Zanardi.

Pamela Chrabieh is a Lebanese & Canadian Doctor in Sciences of Religions, scholar, visual artist, activist, university professor, writer and consultant. She has exhibited her artworks in Canada, Lebanon, the United Arab Emirates and Italy, and has organized and participated in art workshops and art therapy sessions in North America, Europe and Western Asia. She was selected as one of the 100 most influential women in Lebanon in 2013, and won several national and regional prizes in Canada and the United Arab Emirates.

Interview: Pamela Chrabieh
Image courtesy of Pamela Chrabieh

Luca Curci – What’s your background? What is the experience that has influenced your work the most?
Pamela Chrabieh – I was born and raised in the 1970s-1980s war in Lebanon. Growing up in war left me with a thirst to discover the truth behind the endless years spent in shelters and displacement, the survival techniques I learned, such as how to avoid snipers and land mines, the suffering following the destruction of our houses and the horrific deaths of loved ones, the fascination with war games I used to play, and the hours spent with my parents trying to look for bread. War has definitely marked my identity, world vision, and visual expression, but also my journeys and experiences at the crossroads of several countries, cultures and religions.

LC – Which subject are you working on?
PC – Mainly, war and peace as a general subject. Sub-subjects include: Dialogue, Human Rights, Gender Equality, Freedom of Expression, Cultural interpenetrations, Inclusion, etc.

LC – What is your creative process like?
PC – My visual art accompanies my writing, is influenced by it and influences it. And both creative journeys are closely linked to my personal experiences. These experiences should be powerful enough to push me to express myself me such as violence, separation, exile or death. I rarely produce content when I’m going through a status quo. And I rarely follow a strict path to create combinations of words, forms, colors and energies. Emotions and ideas progressively intermingle, and ultimately incarnate. I don’t see the creative journey as a series of specific steps set in stone, from preparation to implementation, but a multilevel construction, deconstruction and reconstruction of mental, physical and spiritual dynamics.
LC – Are your artworks focused on a specific theme?
PC – My artworks are a certain reflection of my journey as a resilient human being, a war survivor who is relentlessly searching for inner peace and peace with others, so that the vicious cycle of war breaks.

Interview: Pamela Chrabieh
Image courtesy of Pamela Chrabieh

LC – How is being an artist nowadays?
PC – As I see it, being an artist nowadays is being (or should be about being) engaged in the production and dissemination of counter-cultures facing hegemonic cultures. It’s also being kind of a neo-renaissance human being, actively participating in building bridges across cultures and working towards more inclusive societies. Beyond a mere profession or a simple expression of one’s emotions, making art is and should be about living it and creating connections through it.

LC – Do you agree with our vision of art and what do you think about the theme of the festival?
PC – Definitely, and as previously mentioned, it is at the heart of my approach and quest. Anima Mundi symbolizes connections between cultures and religions; the contemporary and the traditional; the physical and the mental; the visible and the invisible; the past, present, and future; the logos (word) and the eikon (image); humanity, the natural and the spiritual, etc.

Interview: Pamela Chrabieh
Image courtesy of Pamela Chrabieh

LC – What is the message linked to the artwork you have shown in this exhibition? How is it connected to the theme of the entire festival?
PC – War disconnects lives, memories, and experiences by creating endless cycles of violence, murderous identities, and wounded memories. I have come to believe that these memories are inevitably transmitted from generation to generation in private and public spaces, and that socio-political conviviality and peace need both individual and national healing processes. Or else, the load of traumas that we carry will prevail, fueled by the continuous local and regional crises and State-sponsored amnesia. Contrary to war, peace is the art of connecting. It is a continuous process encompassing historical subjectivities and energies in interpenetrative modes; a process of interacting dynamics, fragmented and common truths, voices, paths, and pathos.
A Duwama (spiral or vortex) is a visualization of this peacebuilding process. It symbolizes life versus death, positive movement towards the manifestation of connections, and therefore, towards forgiveness, healing, and conviviality.
Every one of my Duwamas is a story of transformation, from a shattered and disconnected situation, event, emotion or experience, to a connected realm.

LC – What do you think about ITSLIQUID Platform?
PC – It’s a platform that translates across diverse channels and contributes to transnational creative communication. It pushes the envelope and helps artists who think outside the box connect and discover the richness of their differences.

LC – Did you enjoy cooperating with us?
PC – Yes, and I hope we will pursue this cooperation.

Interview: Pamela Chrabieh
Image courtesy of Pamela Chrabieh
Interview: Pamela Chrabieh
Image courtesy of Pamela Chrabieh
Interview: Pamela Chrabieh
Image courtesy of Pamela Chrabieh
Interview: Pamela Chrabieh
Image courtesy of Pamela Chrabieh

Source: https://www.itsliquid.com/interview-pamela-chrabieh.html

Ala’ Abou Fakhr, martyr de la révolution, martyr national – article dans l’Orient-le-Jour

Lire l’article complet sur le site de L’Orient-le-Jour

Le meurtre du révolutionnaire Ala’ Abou Fakhr devant son épouse et son fils a ravivé dans ma mémoire le décès de mon beau-père Gebran Badine qui fut assassiné en Irak en 2004. Dans un article que j’avais publié en 2007 dans Scriptura (Université de Montréal), je posais à l’époque les questions suivantes : « Qui est Gebran ? (et donc, qui est Ala’ ?). Vaut-il la peine d’être remémoré ? Sa mort, à l’instar de beaucoup d’autres, compte-t-elle sur l’échiquier national ? »

Depuis des décennies, les meurtres et massacres perpétrés au Liban et dans la région de l’Asie de l’Ouest ne sont plus que des événements relégués aux oubliettes, des concours de circonstances, des accidents faisant partie du lot dit normal de la guerre et des révolutions. En ce sens, la mort de Gebran, de Ala’ et de bien d’autres encore ferait partie de l’ordre des choses, du cycle de la vie et de la mort. Elle ferait partie des tragédies enfouies dans les méandres de l’histoire, jugées par des politiciens, des historiens, des institutions médiatiques et des peuples entiers, inaptes à porter le qualificatif de mal absolu, d’horreur extrême, et donc inaptes à être même pointées du doigt. Or toute guerre constitue un génocide, et tout être humain ayant péri de la folie meurtrière vaut la peine d’être remémoré, pour que justement cesse cette folie.

Au Liban, il est habituellement demandé tant aux enfants qu’aux adultes de ne pas revenir sur le passé, de taire les blessures, de se murer dans un mutisme approbateur de la fatalité du destin, privilégiant la survie sociale et politique à la survie psychique et humaine. La société entière est soumise aux chuchotements et à l’autocensure qui font que la moindre pensée subversive est automatiquement réprimée. Cette omerta, ou loi du silence, est renforcée au niveau national par l’auto-amnistie des leaders de la guerre en 1991. En effet, la loi

n° 84 du 26 août 1991 a voulu voiler le passé récent en accordant une amnistie aux criminels pour tous les actes commis avant le 28 mars 1991. Cette loi fut élaborée en fonction de critères politiques et non des droits de l’homme. Les « seigneurs de la guerre » – expression utilisée en politologie libanaise – ont fait en sorte que leurs crimes soient oubliés. Or suffit-il d’affirmer que le passé n’existe plus en droit pour qu’il cesse d’exister dans la réalité et les consciences, pour que victimes et bourreaux se valent ?

L’oubli n’est qu’une illusion, le temps nous rattrape à grandes enjambées et la souffrance nous descend, même si nous tentons de fuir. « Gare au retour du refoulé ! » avait prévenu un célèbre architecte libanais lors d’une conférence en février 2004 intitulée « Le centre-ville, exploit ou fracture ? ». Comment tourner la page sur des milliers de morts, de blessés, de disparus, de déplacés, de prisonniers, d’émigrés forcés, de destructions, d’horreurs? Comment dépasser la peur qui marque sa présence et la dépression qui suit la fin de l’espoir ? Comment envisager ce qui sera sans tenir compte de ce qui a été ?

« Je désire savoir où sont les choses futures et passées, si l’on peut dire qu’elles sont. Si cette connaissance est au-dessus de moi, au moins je suis assuré qu’en quelque lieu qu’elles soient, elles n’y sont ni futures ni passées, mais présentes, puisque si elles y sont futures, elles n’y sont pas encore, et que si elles y sont passées, elles n’y sont plus. »

Aux interrogations de saint Augustin, dans les Confessions (livre XI, chapitre XVII), répondent certaines certitudes : si l’avenir n’est pas encore et si le passé n’est plus, celui-ci n’est pas sans influencer celui-là. En ce sens, un avenir pacifié ne peut être envisageable si la politique de la tabula rasa relevant de la terre brûlée est adoptée. Celui-ci requiert la reconnaissance de la douleur en la muant en souvenir fondateur qui puisse nous en affranchir, notamment en construisant une mémoire individuelle et collective de la guerre. Dans cette perspective, la parole ou la mise en récit de l’événement traumatique occupent une place centrale dans le processus thérapeutique qui constitue la base du processus de « peacebuilding » – construction de la paix. Donner un espace de parole, d’où l’on peut s’exprimer en toute sécurité et liberté, est indispensable pour passer de la simple reviviscence à la représentation, du souvenir au « ressouvenir » – un terme utilisé par Amin Maalouf et qui signifie une réécriture, un déchiffrage, un dévoilement, un travail de critique et d’autocritique (intériorisation), un projet herméneutique, un travail de deuil, un acte refondateur, une transformation – pour qu’on puisse dire les blessures, leur attribuer un sens, les comprendre et vivre avec.

En ce sens, le principe « œil pour œil, dent pour dent », ou la culture de la vendetta, devrait être remplacé par un processus réparateur impliquant toutes les parties, constituant une manière puissante d’aborder non seulement les préjudices matériels et physiques causés par les crimes, mais aussi les préjudices sociaux, psychologiques et relationnels. Cette démarche est centrée sur la victime, et la communauté et le dialogue en sont les éléments centraux. Le but n’est pas la vengeance, mais que la vérité soit connue et qu’une reconnaissance publique soit officiellement sanctionnée. Les auteurs de crimes de guerre et de tout crime ont beau répéter que personne n’entendra les victimes, que personne ne se soucie d’elles, que personne ne le saura jamais… D’où la nécessité de faire face à ce que le journaliste Lawrence Weschler qualifie d’« instant primordial » : « Qui était là ? Qui criait ? Qui se tenait aux côtés de la victime et que faisaient-ils ? Qui encore maintenant oserait écouter ses cris ? Qui souhaite le savoir ? Qui sera tenu responsable ? Et qui leur en demandera des comptes ? »

Source: https://www.lorientlejour.com/article/1195118/ala-abou-fakhr-martyr-de-la-revolution-martyr-national.html

عن الحوار الإسلامي المسيحي، ذاكرة الحرب وبناء السلام في لبنان

Interested in the subject on Interfaith Dialogue, War Memory and Peacebuilding? This is the full version of my article, and you can have access to the PDF file on Telos’ site: https://www.telosmagazine.org/

Artist Pamela Chrabieh’s “Peace Collection” in Indelible Dubai

I was born and raised in the 1970s-1980s war in Lebanon. My experience as a war survivor has marked my writing and art, as has fueld my quest for peace. As I see it, peace is not only about ceasefires, the end of bloodshed, the absence of hostilities, and a state of mutual concord between governments, as war is both “physical” and “psychological”. Peace is about accountability for violence, openness, generosity, clemency, and catharsis. Peace is and should be a transformation process within mindsets, a celebration of interconnected life and unity in the diversity of complex identities. As long as the legacy of violence is not addressed within ourselves and our societies, we will remain lost, cut off from connection, living in a never-ending apocalypse of carnages and tortured souls and bodies.

Dr. Pamela Chrabieh is a scholar, writer, visual artist, and activist. Author of several books and papers with a 20+ year experience in higher education, communication, content creation, and the arts, she has exhibited her artworks in Canada, Lebanon, the United Arab Emirates and Italy. Previously Associate Professor of Middle Eastern Studies at the American University in Dubai, she currently owns and manages a Beirut-based company offering expertise in Learning and Communication. 
http://pamelachrabiehblog.com and http://spnc.co

Source: Indelible

The Social Life of Memory: Violence, Trauma, and Testimony in Lebanon and Morocco

Saturday, 2nd March 2019 Magazine of the European Observatory on MemoriesISSN 2565-2931 | DL B 27726-2017

Nikro, Norman Saadi; Hegasy, Sonja (Eds.). Palgrave, 2017

By Tsjalling Wierdsma, Master Student on Heritage and Memory Studies, University of Amsterdam. Fellow at EUROM (2018).

The Social Life of Memory: Violence, Trauma, and Testimony in Lebanon and Morocco, edited by Norman Saadi Nikro and Sonja Hegasy, is part of the larger Palgrave Studies in Cultural Heritage and Conflict Series, which focuses on themes such as heritage and memory of war and conflict, contested heritage, and competing memories. Contributors to the book include Joey Ayoub, Pamela Chrabieh, Brahim El Guabli, Ali Hamdan, Norah Karrouche, and Laura Menin. While the book focuses on the specific contexts of Lebanon and Morocco, in this short review I would like to reflect on some broader memory and heritage issues addressed in the book, while still keeping the particular contexts to which they refer and in which they were addressed in mind.

One of the main thematic parameters of the book concerns the interaction between, and “transformation of private memories into publicly shared memories, according to efforts claiming public acknowledgment and public redress” (2-3). Memory, in the process of this exchange, according to the authors of the book, “is acted on as a transformational site, a milieu, whereby social and political engagement takes place, situating memory as a public event” (3).

The book points to an interaction and tension between Nora’s famous concept of memory as lieu, as a memorial or other form of formal commemoration, and memory as the milieu. By addressing memory as milieu the book enables a focus on overlooked processes of memory that otherwise might not be classified as such. An example of this is given in Laura Menin’s chapter, in which she focuses on the process of waiting experienced by the families of victims of political violence that disappeared during the Years of Lead. Instead of viewing waiting as a purely passive process, she instead views it as a “multifaceted temporality that entails both passivity and proactive engagement” (27). Menin describes how waiting in this context is perceived as an additional state-imposed source of pain, trauma, and loss of agency, but simultaneously brings with it novel political subjectivities and specific modes of activism where personal memories of violence are re-socialized, made public, and act towards specific political and transformative goals (27).

Hariri Memorial | Picture: upyernoz, uploaded by Albert Herring [CC BY 2.0], via Wikimedia Commons

Chapters such as Ali Nehme Hamdan’s, which focuses on the Hariri mosque in Martyrs Square Beirut as a site of memory, highlight the usefulness of the concept milieu for engaging with the everyday “messy stuff of contention” (146). It further allows for a focus on the simultaneously conflicting and collective cultures of memory, without “assuming the centrality of the nation-state to their production” (146), which is necessary in a context such as Lebanon, but also more generally enables a focus that highlights the multiple actors and the ways in which they engage, negotiate, and create sites and spaces of memory. It allows for an engagement with the “many cultures of memory that coexist at any one time” (147), and not just at the level of the nation-state.

Pamela Chrabieh’s chapter, focusing on the war stories of university students in Lebanon belonging to the 1990’s generation, adds a generational component to these cultures of memory, and problematizes Hirsch’s notion of post-memory, stating that “many memories that were transmitted not only constitute the memories or are part of the ressouvenir processes of the new generations in their own right, but also intermingle with other memories to the point of not having clear boundaries” (189).

Chrabieh employs Rothberg’s concept of multidirectional memory, to enable a generational conception of a malleable discursive space in which groups, their memories, and their positions come into being through dialogical interaction. Similarly, Norah Karrouche’s chapter, detailing how local memories of war and violence in the Northern Riff region of Morocco have shaped the agencies and identities of several generations of Berber activists in both Morocco and its diaspora, shows how newer generations of activists can attempt to inscribe themselves into and simultaneously construct larger mythological and symbolic histories of activism. Like Chrabieh, Karrouche shows how multiple episodes of violence interact. Karrouche further discusses how these histories of activism can act as mythomoteurs, grand narratives about the specificity of a place in history and (trans)-national narratives (232-233). In combination, the two chapters however also highlight the large contextual differences in the generational transmission of memories.

The interaction and the contradictions between the different chapters is one of the book’s largest strengths. Instead of taking away from the individual arguments, these contradictions work to show the many nuances and contradictions attached to institutions, spaces, and milieus of memory, when approached from different levels of analysis and with different focus points.

SOURCE: EUROPEANMEMORIES.NET

Du choc des titans et de la culture de la guerre

Mon article paru ce matin dans l’Orient-le-Jour (Beyrouth – Liban) sur la nécessité de déconstruire la culture de la guerre et d’édifier une culture de la paix. C’est le énième article que je publie sur ce sujet depuis les années 90. La guerre est continue au Liban. Elle n’est pas que physique, elle est surtout psychologique et culturelle.

Voilà des années que le Liban vit au rythme de guerres de paroles, de mémoires meurtries, d’identités meurtrières, d’autoritarisme et de crises sociopolitique, économique et environnementale.

Dans cette saga libanaise aux allures de choc de titans, les héros ont bel et bien disparu, laissant la place aux fanatiques, démagogues, corrompus, méduses, sorcières du Styx, montagnes de détritus, scorpions monstrueux, sacrifices humains et maléfices de Hadès.

Près de trois décennies après la fin des combats, il est triste de constater que le pays n’est pas en mode « postguerre ». En fait, la guerre est continue, et les leçons qui auraient dû être tirées n’ont pas pu l’être, justement parce qu’une véritable construction de la paix n’a pas eu lieu, et ce en dépit des initiatives de certains groupes et individus œuvrant pour la convivialité et un système sociopolitique aconfessionnel assurant l’unité dans la diversité des voix(es) libanaises. Une chose est de faire taire les canons, de faire disparaître les frontières territoriales et de constamment faire miroiter bonheur et prospérité ; une autre est de renouer le contact entre les communautés et d’établir des liens solides au-delà des dissensions et des clivages.

Comment penser et vivre une catharsis salutaire lorsque le Kraken de la culture de la guerre constitue la toile de fond du Liban contemporain? Cette culture s’impose comme réalité du quotidien physique et virtuel. Avec son cortège de djinns et de démons, elle enflamme les esprits, sème la zizanie et ravage les vies. Elle est à la fois le produit et le producteur de choc de titans, un cercle vicieux formé d’oppresseurs et d’opprimés, d’accapareurs de pouvoir, de démunis et de boucs émissaires.

Chaque instant qui passe sous l’emprise de la culture de la guerre creuse davantage le fossé entre Libanais, sanctifie l’assassinat du semblable et du différent, transforme le meurtre en devoir, banalise les suicides individuel et collectif, et interdit toute réflexion critique, toute évolution et toute richesse émanant de la diversité.

Tant que la culture de la guerre sévit dans les cœurs, les criminels continueront de perpétrer leurs crimes et les victimes de mourir par omission. Tant que cette culture existe, l’étripage des dieux se poursuivra. Tant que l’hégémonie culturelle est celle de la guerre et non de la paix, on ne pourra garder l’espoir face aux bouchons inextricables du passé et à la léthargie étouffante du présent, révéler les non-dits, muer la douleur en souvenir fondateur et retenir la principale leçon de la guerre, de toute guerre : qu’elle ne se reproduise plus.

SOURCE: https://www.lorientlejour.com/article/1157956/du-choc-des-titans-et-de-la-culture-de-la-guerre.html