The Lede

Lebanon’s Trauma and the Myth of Resilience — with Dalal Mawad and Rasha Elass

On Aug. 4, 2020, Dalal Mawad was preparing to feed her cat when hundreds of tons of ammonium nitrate, left forgotten at Beirut’s busy port, exploded. The blast ripped through the Lebanese capital, killing hundreds and injuring thousands. It was one of the most powerful non-nuclear explosions in human history, the result not of war but of corruption. Yet, to date, no one has been held accountable.
 
In the aftermath, Mawad began work on her recently published book about the port blast, “All She Lost: the Explosion in Lebanon, the Collapse of a Nation and the Women Who Survive.” But when she set out to interview dozens of women about the distress they endured that day, she discovered that just like the fertilizer at the port, her country’s trauma had also been forgotten. 
 
“I thought, this is a history book,” she tells New Lines magazine’s Rasha Elass. “It's not just a book about the explosion. It's also about Lebanon's unprecedented collapse.”
 
Before the Beirut explosion, the country’s banking sector had collapsed, leaving countless citizens locked out of their life savings. By that time, Lebanon had spent 12 years enduring the shockwaves of the Syrian Civil War, all while the scars of its own civil war remain open and raw. “The Lebanese today, their life is a life of survival. They spend their days fighting for their basic rights,” Mawad says. “I felt like I owed it to myself and to the Lebanese to tell these stories.”
 
“Lebanese resilience” is often claimed as a mark of pride, but Mawad firmly rejects the notion.  “This to me is not resilience. It's trauma on top of trauma,” she says. “They haven't found justice. They haven’t found peace. And I think convincing ourselves that we are resilient is actually counterproductive.”
 
And now, as yet another war rages in the region, the Lebanese people are bracing themselves once more, hoping their country will not become a casualty yet again.

The Day After Hamas — with Gilbert Achcar and Faisal Al Yafai

In retaliation for the brutal Hamas attacks of Oct. 7, Israel has been bombarding Gaza for three weeks now, displacing more than 1 million Palestinians and killing thousands of civilians. Israeli forces have made localized raids into the area but have not yet launched the full ground invasion that officials say is planned. 
 
“The military plans can be drawn now. Will they be able to implement them? That's a big question mark,” says Gilbert Achcar, professor of development studies and international relations at SOAS, University of London.
 
In a recent essay published by New Lines, however, Achcar turned his attention to the other big question. Assuming Israel is able to oust Hamas, he tells New Lines’ Faisal Al Yafai, “the next question is what are we going to do with that?”
 
Achcar outlines two main scenarios for the day after Hamas. The first, which he calls the “Oslo” option, is the one preferred by the United States. This would involve handing control of Gaza to the Fatah government that rules in the West Bank. 
 
“They want the Israeli army to eradicate Hamas in Gaza and put the Palestinian Authority in control of the strip,” he explains. 
 
It would be a very difficult needle to thread. Not only has Palestinian President Mahmoud Abbas refused to take part in such a scheme, but any Palestinian leader who did would be unlikely to last long in power if it was imposed at the barrel of a gun.
 
The other likely political course, Achcar suggests, is what he calls the “Greater Israel” option. In that scenario, Israel takes over Gaza — and stays there.
 
“And this is the view on the far right,” he says. “October 7 was, for them, an opportunity.”
 
But such an action might be even more of a pipe dream than the “Oslo” option. Occupying Gaza over the long term would stretch the IDF to capacity at the very least, and U.S. President Biden has already ruled out American support for such a scheme. 
 
A military strategy is one thing. But finding a political strategy for the day after Hamas will prove much trickier.
 
Produced by Joshua Martin

The Geopolitics of the Gaza War — with Ali Hashem, Mairav Zonszein and Aziz Alghashian

On Oct. 6, Iran, Saudi Arabia and Israel were locked in a delicate diplomatic dance. A tentative normalization process between Israel and Saudi Arabia was ongoing, while in March, a Chinese-brokered rapprochement began to thaw the Saudi relationship with their common rival Iran. Meanwhile, Iran continued to expand its network of proxies throughout the region as Israel sought to contain the move through diplomatic and clandestine action. 
 
But the events of the next day and beyond have changed everything. The magnitude of Hamas’s attacks and Israel’s response were both unprecedented and have thrown the balance of power into flux. With tensions at a high mark, an escalation risks igniting a region-wide war. As the leadership of all three countries scramble to find their footing, New Lines magazine’s Faisal Al Yafai and Joshua Martin spoke to three different analysts to break down the political and military strategies at play. 
Produced by Joshua Martin
 

Hamas, Israel and the PA at War — with Jeroen Gunning, Dana El Kurd and Uriel Abulof

After a surprise attack by Hamas killed nearly 1,000 Israeli civilians, the Middle East stands on the brink of being engulfed by war. Israel’s retaliation has been no less devastating as the IDF laid siege to Gaza, killing more than 1,000 Palestinian civilians so far in a bombing campaign of unprecedented ferocity. A ground invasion seems imminent, and the fighting threatens to spill over into a catastrophic regional war. 
 
To understand the genesis of this crisis, New Lines magazine’s Danny Postel and Joshua Martin spoke to political scientists from three different countries about what the unfolding conflagration means for the future of the Israeli-Palestinian issue.
 
“Hamas would have known that by invading Israel itself and puncturing this myth of invincibility of Israel in its own land, Israel would have to respond even more harshly than normal,” says Jeroen Gunning, professor of Middle Eastern politics and conflict studies at King's College London and the author of “Hamas in Politics: Democracy, Religion, Violence.”
 
“It may be that Hamas’s calculation was that this was worth the cost, but they're sacrificing the lives of thousands of Palestinians in Gaza.”
 
In other words, the massive response from Israel was almost certainly part of the plan. Moreover, Gunning says, it’s unlikely to deliver lasting security and prevent such an attack from happening again. 
 
“A lot of Israelis, including former heads of the Mossad and former generals, have gone on record that there is no military solution to the conflict,” Gunning says. 
 
“Hamas is one of the few groups that still claims resistance against the Israeli occupation,” explains Dana El Kurd, a political scientist at the University of Richmond and the author of “Polarized and Demobilized: Legacies of Authoritarianism in Palestine.” 
 
“So what this moment speaks to is the fact that a lot of these other Palestinian actors have become very irrelevant to the ongoing conflict.”
 
Unlike their counterparts in Gaza, Fatah, the ruling party of the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank, has cooperated with Israel since the Oslo Peace Accords were signed in the 1990s. By provoking a response of this magnitude, Hamas has an opportunity to not only delegitimize their main rivals but also shore up its own support.
“In the context of Israel bombing Gaza, there is obviously a rally-around-the-flag effect where even people who are completely ideologically opposed to Hamas are not going to express something like that,” El Kurd points out. “I can't describe how outraged people are, how just dehumanized people feel, that violence against Palestinians is ignored.”
 
“It's the vicious cycle of humiliation and revenge. And we've seen it throughout the Israeli-Palestinian conflict,” says Uriel Abulof, a political psychologist at Tel Aviv University and the author of “Living on the Edge: The Existential Uncertainty of Zionism.” 
 
“You feel the fear, you feel the humiliation caused by the others, and you want revenge.”
 
Yet the events of the past week, he believes, have shown the futility of that cycle. “The only thing you can do is live by the sword and hope that you'll be able to survive. And Netanyahu was the main agent of that doctrine over the past 30 years.”
 
But while he may be hoping that a forceful enough reprisal may placate the public, the attacks happened under Netanyahu’s watch, Abulof points out, and a great many Israelis blame him for the bloodshed.  
 
“Although it may sound completely ludicrous and utopian at this dark point, I think that it might also serve as a sort of an awakening for moderates on both sides. And I think there are many, many Palestinians who abhor what Hamas has done,” he adds. “I think there is a potential that both sides may come together and try to do something that we haven't really tried before, which is a real coexistence, truly, fully recognizing the existence of the other.”

The Yellow Wind of Damascus — with Benan Grams and Rasha Elass

The city of Damascus is one of the oldest in the world. Syria’s ancient capital has been continuously inhabited for perhaps 12,000 years and seen countless plagues, viruses and epidemics sweep through its streets. But, says Dr. Benan Grams, a social historian of disease and medicine at the University of New Orleans, the cholera epidemics of the 19th and early 20th centuries stand out among the worst. 
 
“The disease is endemic to the Ganges Valley in India, but it did not have its international journey until the involvement of British imperial forces that took the disease from India to the Persian Gulf,” Grams tells New Lines magazine’s Rasha Elass. “And from there, the disease came to Syria, but did not reach Damascus until 1848.”
 
When it did hit, though, it hit hard. 
 
“It was a shock for everybody, not because of the novelty of epidemics but because of the horrific symptoms,” Grams says. Signs of infection came on suddenly, leaving the afflicted vomiting and unable to control their bowels. Many would be dead within hours. At the height of the epidemic, hundreds were dying over a single day.
 
“By 1902, we learned what causes the disease, and we learned how it is transmitted,” Grams says. Advances in epidemiology had revealed the pathogen behind the devastation —Vibrio cholerae, a bacterium that spread through contaminated water. Yet that same year, the city was struck by its worst epidemic yet. 
 
“Despite all measures and all precautions, people were still dying from cholera,” Grams explains. The situation became so severe that Ottoman officials feared V. cholerae would become endemic to the city’s water supply. 
 
By the time it ended, the outbreak had lasted for more than a year, several times the length of previous epidemics, leaving the city traumatized and its economy crippled by containment measures. Ottoman officials had found themselves caught in an endless cycle, cordoning off the city again and again as the outbreak flared and waned. Every few months, Grams explains, things would seem to die down, no new cases would be reported, and the administration would ease restrictions. 
 
“And then someone died or another case was reported. And then all the measures that were eased were reinstated again. And the misery started all over again,” she says.
 
“Researching cholera during the COVID pandemic,” she adds, “it was quite fascinating to see the similarities.”
 
Produced by Joshua Martin

Identity, Liberalism and the New Left — with Yascha Mounk and Faisal Al Yafai

Yascha Mounk thinks the left is making a big mistake.
 
“Over the last decades a genuinely new political tradition has started to coalesce in universities around the world,” the political scientist and commentator tells New Lines magazine’s Faisal Al Yafai, ”and then come to have significant influence on our culture and politics.”
 
Uncomfortable with the direction this new generation of progressives has taken, Mounk sought to understand them. His new book, “The Identity Trap,” presents a history of how these new ideas became mainstream.
 
“I think the problem is not that they go too far,” he says. Mounk is uncomfortable with the position that many of his fellow critics have taken toward what they would call “wokeness” and he calls the “identity synthesis.” “How can you go too far in fighting against racism?” 
 
In Mounk’s view, the problem is not how far, but which way. “I think the problem really is that they take us in the wrong direction,” he says. 
 
For Mounk, a proud believer in the liberal tradition, that wrong direction is the emphasis on identity and difference rather than more traditional universal values. It is not that he thinks identity is not important, he says. “The problem comes when we start to have a conception of politics which reduces people to those categories.”
 
Mounk believes that these ways of thinking have led activists to abandon their commitment to liberal values like free speech and equality before the law.  “Who's going to be sitting on the speech facilitation committee of some tech company? It's not the most marginalized in society. It's not the weakest in society. It's people who virtually by definition hold quite a lot of power,” he explains.
 
At a time where the far right is on the march, he concedes that a more confrontational and uncompromising approach might be compelling. But he fears that it may be misguided in the long run.
 
“Trump's election in the United States in 2016 made it so hard to criticize some of those ideas because you were immediately accused of somehow running interference for Trump,” he says. “But I think the deep influence that these ideas now have on many institutions in the United States and beyond leaves an opening to people like Trump to come back into power.”

Art, Music and Freedom in Iran — with Malu Halasa, Nahid Siamdoust and Danny Postel

Iran was set ablaze last year after Mahsa Amini was taken into custody and beaten to death by the country’s morality police in Tehran for wearing “improper hijab.” The killing of the 22-year-old struck a deep chord among Iranians, inspiring protests in more than 100 cities throughout the country, marking the largest uprising Iran had seen since the 1979 revolution. Government reprisals were severe, with hundreds if not thousands of protesters arrested and tortured and several of them executed.
“The volume of art and creative responses that we've seen to this uprising is really unprecedented,”says Nahid Siamdoust, author of “Soundtrack of the Revolution: The Politics of Music in Iran” and host of the podcast “Woman, Life, Freedom.” “Even in comparison to 1979, I think this is unprecedented.”
“In a sense, the ‘Woman, Life, Freedom’ revolution is a revolution that's formed by culture, by art, by music, by poetry,” Malu Halasa, literary editor of The Markaz Review, tells New Lines magazine’s Danny Postel. It’s that art that is the subject of her new book, an edited anthology titled “Woman, Life, Freedom: Voices and Art from the Women's Protests in Iran,” which was released this month.
Unlike previous, more reformist protest movements in Iran, the Mahsa Amini protests became genuinely revolutionary. That revolutionary feeling was channeled into a great range of art forms, but especially music and hip-hop in particular. “Hip-hop in the West has lost its power. We haven't really had conscious rap for quite a long time,” Halasa says. But in Iran, she adds, “even before the ‘Woman, Life, Freedom’ movement, hip-hop was very powerful. It was critical of the status quo. It wasn't just party music.” 
Artists can pay a high price for speaking out against the regime. For his blistering lyrics in support of the movement, a 32-year-old rapper from Esfahan named Toomaj Salehi was arrested and eventually sentenced to six years in prison after being held in solitary confinement for 252 days. He is one of many artists who have become figureheads of the wider movement, his songs played at protests while demonstrators wield placards with his name and face. 
It’s no accident that musicians have become such integral and iconic parts of the movement, Siamdoust says.

Behind the Abaya Ban — with Rim-Sarah Alouane, Rasha Al Aqeedi and Erin Clare Brown

The abaya is a loose, flowing robe worn by women across the Middle East, Northern Africa and South Asia. Though it is favored by many observant Muslims for its modesty, it is not considered religiously mandated attire and has no special spiritual significance. Nevertheless, French Education Minister Gabriel Attal announced at the end of August that the abaya would be banned from public schools on the basis that they violated France’s longstanding principle of “laicite.”
“Laicite is a form of secularism,” explains French legal scholar Rim-Sarah Alouane. But it’s a very specific form, one that took a very different path to its equivalents elsewhere. “In the U.S., the idea is to protect people's beliefs against abuses of the state,” she tells Rasha Al Aqeedi and Erin Clare Brown. “In France, it's the other way around.”
This unique form of secularism has its origins in the education system. “Schools were considered the place where we create the future citizen. So, we needed to protect pupils from any influence, and especially the influence of the Catholic Church,” Alouane explains. 
That secular principle would go on to become one of the cornerstones of public life in the French Republic. The Law of 1905 established the separation of church and state and guaranteed individual freedom of worship while also instituting a policy of religious neutrality for government employees, forbidding them from any public display of faith. 
“However, religious neutrality did not apply to the individuals,” Alouane adds. “Individuals were free to express their religiosity as long as public order is not disturbed.”
“The problem is not laicite itself because in France, laicite is supposed to guarantee freedom of religion and freedom of conscience,” Alouane says. “The problem is what we have done with it.”
But fanned by the flames of anti-immigrant animus, Alouane says the past few decades have seen the emergence of an increasingly illiberal and uncompromising conception of secularism. 
“We call it the new laicite,” she says. “This has been used as a reason to restrict religious visibility, especially targeted at Muslims. And right now, the victims are literally kids. I mean, can you imagine being so young and facing that?”
And so, as France’s youth returned to school last week, many Muslim girls had to choose between the clothes they feel comfortable in and their access to schooling. According to the education ministry, 67 girls were sent home in a single day for refusing to remove their abayas. 
“France is losing its own children, I would say,” Alouane laments. “These girls will come back to school dressed differently or they will go to private schools. Is it what we want? Girls to go to religious school instead of going to the school of the republic, where everybody should be treated equally?”
Produced by Joshua Martin

Somaliland’s Secession Struggle — with James Barnett and Joshua Martin

“Somalia has been in one form of civil war or another for about 30 years,” James Barnett tells New Lines magazine’s Joshua Martin on the first episode of The Lede’s fourth season. “You have this dynamic where the government in Mogadishu doesn't have much direct power or presence in most of the rest of the country.”
 
The result, explains Barnett, who traveled there in June to report for New Lines, is that large swaths of the country are actually controlled by local independent and autonomous governments that don’t always dance to the beat of Mogadishu’s drum. “Even though there's a veneer of statehood or state authority, a lot of it is essentially clan politics — elders or clan leaders that are building up their own institutions,” he says. Perhaps the most successful has been the Republic of Somaliland, which declared independence in 1991, though it has not achieved U.N. recognition.
 
With its own legal system, legislature and national anthem, Somaliland has often been hailed as a success story for its multi-party democracy and relatively stable administration. Yet in the border city of Las Anod, captured from the autonomous government of neighboring Puntland in 2007, the Somaliland independence movement now faces an independence movement of its own: the SSC, a militia group formed by the Dhulbahante clan and its allies.  
 
Barnett spoke to dozens of SSC fighters determined to establish their own autonomous state in what they consider to be their ancestral lands. 
 
“Their main goal right now is to break away these lands from Somaliland,” Barnett says. “Then they want to become a federal member state, similar to the status that Puntland has.”
 
Since the fighting started at the beginning of the year, the two sides were at a stalemate. But on Aug. 25, “the entire battlefield situation changed really overnight.” A shock SSC offensive drove the Somaliland Armed Forces out of Las Anod. “SSC activists are declaring August 25 victory day,” Barnett says. “Even some of them were surprised that it had happened so quickly.”
 
The consequences may spread far beyond the borders of Somaliland or the SSC’s nascent Dhulbahante state. 

Listen Again: The Age of Conspiracy Theories — with Gabriel Gatehouse and Faisal Al Yafai

Known best by his alias “the QAnon Shaman,” the shirtless man depicted in photos with a horned fur hat and an American flag painted on his face became one of the most iconic images from the Jan. 6, 2021, attack on the U.S.Capitol. His real name is Jake Angeli, and he believed in the conspiracy theory known as QAnon — that the U.S. government was controlled by a global child-trafficking Satanist cabal and that Donald Trump was fighting a secret war to defeat them. 
Gabriel Gatehouse, an award-winning foreign correspondent with the BBC, recognized the man in the photos. He had met him just months before, while covering the 2020 election. Dismissing the man as nothing more than a fringe weirdo, he had passed up the chance to interview him. That same man was now the face of the Capitol riot. 
“It bothered me, because I realized that I had not given his story,” Gatehouse tells New Lines magazine’s Faisal Al Yafai.  “That was the question I hadn’t asked myself: There must be a reason why he believes this. It’s not true. But it means something. What is it telling us about the world that we live in?”
That was the question Gatehouse set out to find answers to on “The Coming Storm,” a  podcast series he made with the BBC. 
“We reach for conspiracy theories when the world doesn’t make sense to us,” he says. Distrust in traditional media and government institutions — not entirely unwarranted — has led many to reject what they say entirely, Gatehouse explains. “And they feel like the internet has put this powerful tool in their hands, to connect with people and uncover the hidden truth. And I think they genuinely believe it.”
QAnon itself may burn out or at least change into something new. But Gatehouse suspects it may not matter all that much. Something else will just take its place. 
“QAnon was like the match that lit the fire,” he says. “And the fire is now raging, and it is going to keep on burning, I think, until something quite fundamental changes.”
Produced by Joshua Martin. This episode originally aired March 3, 2023.