The hunted
By Amal Hamdan and Yasmine Dabbous Posted Jan 1 2006
AP/Mahmoud Tawil
A Lebanese woman reacts to May Chidiac's damaged car in the town of Ghadir, near Beirut. A bomb placed under the driver's seat nearly killed the popular talk show host.
May Chidiac narrowly survived the explosion that tore through her car on a warm September night in a small town north of Beirut.
A bomb planted beneath the driver's seat left the television journalist, known throughout Lebanon as an outspoken critic of Syrian involvement in her country, with several broken bones and without her left arm and leg.
Dolly Ghanem, Chidiac's longtime colleague at the Lebanese Broadcasting Corporation, was at a family wedding when she heard the news. “I couldn't believe it; it was impossible,” says Ghanem, an executive producer at the LBC. “What had she done to deserve this?”
The bomb was the twelfth in a series of attacks on Lebanese politicians, journalists and ordinary citizens following the Feb. 14 assassination of Prime Minister Rafik Hariri.
LBC had for some time received calls from political figures or security officials complaining about “bold remarks” made during political programs or talk shows. “But it never crossed this line. We never got any serious death threats,” Ghanem says. “We used to joke about being targeted for speaking freely on TV, but we never thought the joke would turn into reality.”
The “bold remarks” Ghanem refers to include direct allusions to the Syrian regime and its presence in Lebanon, as well as open criticism of Syrian allies in Lebanese politics.
Syria's occupation of Lebanon goes back to 1976, when its forces intervened to support one of the local contenders in the Lebanese civil war. Syria partially withdrew when the war ended in the early '90s, although Damascus' involvement in its neighbor's affairs persisted, primarily through a stringent security apparatus. In April, Syria finally pulled out its army and intelligence officers in the face of protests and international pressure after Hariri's assassination.
On her political talk show, Chidiac frequently commented on Syrian involvement in her country even before the withdrawal. She was known for her poise and audacity in posing the questions people had on their minds but never asked.
“She looked at the questions her mother, her sister, her friend were asking and transmitted them on air,” Ghanem says.
Chidiac didn't hesitate to express her opinion either. She was vocal in her support of the Lebanese Forces, the anti-Syrian party popular among Christians in Mount Lebanon that founded LBC. “May believed journalists are entitled to disclose their political views,” Ghanem says.
That may be what got her into trouble, according to Sateh Noureddine, a columnist and managing editor at Assafir newspaper.
“May crossed the limits of what is acceptable politically, openly displaying her inclination for the Lebanese Forces and criticizing the Syrian regime,” he says. “She was not attacked for being a journalist. She was attacked for expressing a political opinion.”
No suspects have been identified in any of the attacks, but the public widely blames the Lebanese-Syrian security apparatus or remnants of this force. Syria denies these allegations, saying its intelligence officers left Lebanon prior to the attacks. But fingers are still pointed at Damascus, primarily because the attack on Chidiac recalled the killing of another prominent and strongly anti-Syrian journalist.
Samir Kassir died instantly when an explosion ripped apart his car in June. A university professor, historian and columnist for An-Nahar newspaper, Kassir was an outspoken critic of the Baath regime in Syria and an active opponent of the Syrian presence in Lebanon. His death sent shockwaves across the country, sparking a protest in Martyr's Square in downtown Beirut that included politicians, journalists and hundreds of members of the public. Calls for the resignation of pro-Syrian Lebanese President Emile Lahoud resonated across the country.
Anti-Syrian journalists are not the only ones feeling the heat. Charles Ayoub, a strong Syrian nationalist who owns and edits Addiyar newspaper, came under pressure from pro-Syrian security officials when he disclosed who gave the order to clear the cars from Hariri's murder scene. Ayoub later drew the interest of a United Nations team investigating Hariri's murder after Addiyar published information about a major witness in the case.
Chief investigator Detlev Mehlis demanded banking secrecy be lifted from Ayoub's bank accounts, and his name was leaked as someone U.N. investigators were planning on questioning. Ayoub received ominous phone calls and hundreds of letters and e-mails, including indirect threats on his life. Vehicles trailed him, and he was interrogated six times.
Media outlets in Lebanon were originally created to be political organs, says Ramez Maluf, director of the Beirut Institute for Media Arts at the Lebanese American University and editor-in-chief of Middle East Broadcasters magazine.
“Although there has been a shift towards commercialism, that is still true today,” he says. Most media owners in Lebanon are affiliated with either a political party or a religious sect, reflecting their respective ideologies.
The nation of 4 million people is a mosaic of 18 official religions. Although this diversity sparked a bloody 15-year civil war, it also led to a traditon of relatively free speech. During the war, which lasted from 1975 to 1990, the country was divided into enclaves and newspaper distribution was restricted to areas controlled by their respective occupiers. Papers lacking ties to armed militias went out of business. Broadcast media were established and funded by political “deep pockets” and their affiliates.
“The media state in Lebanon is a mix of authoritarian and democratic regimes,” Maluf says. “Some institutions are very commercial, but others are not meant to make money. They exist to spread a certain message, which for them is more important than profit.”
The blurred line between media and politics in Lebanon disappeared following Hariri's murder in February, with the media uniting to condemn the assassination. In the months that followed, many media outlets became major players in the nationwide revolts calling for Syria's withdrawal.
Media owned or supported by anti-Syrian groups devoted their columns and airwaves to the promotion of what became known as the “independence uprisings.” Visual and verbal discourses, including live coverage, news items, talk shows and editorials, echoed the heated protests sweeping the streets.
Hariri-owned Future Television went a step further, broadcasting video clips of poignant songs about the deceased prime minister and public service announcements denouncing the killers.
“At times during the spring events, the press lost its objectivity and original calling,” Noureddine says. “But I think that's very normal given the magnitude of what happened. It's impossible to remain impartial during a battle for independence.”
Some analysts believe that the Oct. 20 release of Mehlis' report, which suggested Syrian involvement in Hariri's killing, is likely to halt the violence. Others worry the attacks will only stop once Hariri's killers are brought to justice
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UPDATE: A prominent journalist and opposition member of Parliament, Gebran Tueni, was killed along with three others Dec. 12 in an explosion that targeted his car as it traveled through eastern Beirut.
Tueni, publisher and general manager of the Beirut independent daily An-Nahar, was well known for his outspoken criticism of Syrian influence in Lebanon. He was one of the first Lebanese journalists to publicly condemn the pro-Syrian regime through his columns and public statements.