O my brothers and sisters, our universe is not always rational or meaningful from our perspective; it is chaotic, absurd, and often hostile. We need meaning and value, but all we have is the meaning and value which we create and impose on our nothingness. The Infinite mocks us, but also beckons and challenges us to become better.
As I wrote on this day four years ago in my post of August 4 2020; A horror beyond imagining has transpired in Beirut, which lies in ruins. Civilization dispersed throughout the Mediterranean from here thousands of years ago, uniting Europe, Asia, and Africa in a community of humankind which resonates through our consciousness today.
We seek meaning in the catastrophes and life disruptive events which flesh is heir to, yet as in the disaster in Beirut such causes are often beyond our understanding.
Herein I refer now to Sura 18 of the Holy Quran, called The Cave, verses 60-82, an allegory wherein Khidr, the Islamic Trickster figure who is an immortal and is symbolized as green as an embodiment of the Garden of Paradise, who acts as a guide of the soul through the puzzles of the labyrinth of life which leads toward it, and who speaks to us through dreams, visions, and signs.
I consider it a narrative form of Godel’s Theorem; a proof of the necessity of faith and of the existence of the Infinite, of the limits of human knowledge and the Absurdity of the human condition. Such an interpretation aligns with that of the great scholar and translator Abdullah Yusuf Ali.
As with the foundational thought experiment of one of Plato’s contemporaries, the Spear of Archytas, which defines the horizon of the known as it is thrown and marks a boundary in landing, which we repeat endlessly in scientific revolutions, the unknown remains as vast as before, conserving ignorance. This is the first principle of epistemology; the Conservation of Ignorance.
The canonical story recapitulates themes of the Sacrifice of Ibrahim which I would say forms the basis of Islamic faith, and in the streets of Beirut long ago I saw it unfold once again.
In this story the Green Man instructs Moses by doing three things which are criminal and nonsensical, things which can be understood only through the foreknowledge of prophecy which is not ours. As with justice, foresight does not belong to man, for the universe is nondeterministic, limitless, and our possible futures are always in play.
The relevant passage is this; فَأَرَدْنَا أَن يُبْدِلَهُمَا رَبُّهُمَا خَيْرًا مِّنْهُ زَكَاةً وَأَقْرَبَ رُحْمًا, or “So we intended that their Lord should substitute for them a better son than him in purity and nearer to mercy,” a classic changeling substitution. It also represents a point of bifurcation on which possible futures turn.
I have hope for the future of humankind because of what I witnessed when this primary story was played out before me forty years ago, and because of it I have never despaired.
Such a gate stands or once stood in Beirut, like Rashomon Gate or a gate to the Infinite and to limitless possibilities of human becoming. It may now be dust and memories, or like Schrodinger’s Cat both exist and not exist at once; this I cannot answer for you.
But I can speak as the witness of history that something remarkable happened there in its shadow, which like Khidr exchanging the young man for another to prevent a greater evil from occurring in the future, a time travel paradox if ever there was one, struck me with the force of revelation.
It was an insignificant thing in the scope of the Siege of Beirut, one atrocity among many which was averted by the innate goodness of a single man whose name remains unknown, a tragic hero whom I will never forget, an unwilling conscript in the service of his government like so many others, who said no to authority and to the seduction of evil. The existence of humankind pivots on the balance of such individuals, and they are very few.
This Israeli soldier refused to commit violations and depravities upon the person of a Palestinian girl, about twelve years old, who had been captured for this purpose by the lieutenant of his platoon, a common loyalty test and initiation. He blushed at the first demand of his officer to the tauntings of his fellows, there in the street before the Gate of Decision we must all face, then became angry in refusal when he realized it was not a joke, that the Occupation was about terror and plunder and not as he had been told. His commanding officer murdered him where he stood with a single shot to the head as the girl escaped.
I have returned to this spot throughout my life to touch the stones stained with his blood, for I am reminded that we are not beyond redemption, and that so long as we resist unjust authority we are free, and there is hope.
As written by Bassem Mroue and Lujain Jo in ABC, in an article entitled 3 years after Beirut port blast, intrigue foils an investigation and even the death toll is disputed: attempts to prosecute those responsible are mired in political intrigue, the final death toll remains disputed and many Lebanese have less faith than ever in their disintegrating state institutions; As the country marks the anniversary Friday, relatives of some of those killed are still struggling to get their loved ones recognized as blast victims, reflecting the ongoing chaos since the Aug. 4, 2020 explosion. The blast killed at least 218 people, according to an Associated Press count, wounded more than 6,000, devastated large swaths of Beirut and caused billions of dollars in damages.
Among those not recognized as a blast victim is a five-month-old boy, Qusai Ramadan, a child of Syrian refugees. His parents say he was killed when the explosion toppled the ceiling and a cupboard in his hospital room, crushing him. They have been unable to get the infant added to the official death list, a move that could have made them eligible for future compensation.
They accuse the authorities of discriminating against victims who are not Lebanese.
Meanwhile, the blast anniversary brought renewed calls for an international investigation of those responsible, including top officials who allowed hundreds of tons of highly flammable ammonium nitrate, a material used in fertilizers, to be improperly stored for years at a warehouse in the port.
Lebanese and international organizations, survivors and families of victims sent an appeal to the U.N. Rights Council, saying that on the third anniversary of the explosion, “we are no closer to justice and accountability for the catastrophe.”
Hundreds of people marched in the Lebanese capital on Friday to mark the anniversary, with some family members of the victims calling on the international community to help in the investigation.
Carrying roses and photos of their loved ones, the families led the march and gathered outside Beirut’s port. Victims’ names were read and a moment of silence was held at 6:07 p.m. — the time when the blast occurred.
The mother of one of the victims called for an international and impartial investigation “within the U.N. framework.”
“Three years have passed and you have been turning a deaf ear to this request and this hurts a lot,” said Mireille Bazergy Khoury, the mother of Elias Khoury who was killed by the blast. “This crime is not a Lebanese issue. Victims are all of all nationalities. Please taken action.”
Maan, a Lebanese group advocating for victims and survivors, put the death toll at 236, significantly higher than the government’s count of 191. The authorities stopped counting the dead a month after the blast, even as some of the severely wounded later died.
Among those listed by the Maan initiative is Qusai, the Syrian infant. He had been undergoing treatment for a severe liver condition and was transferred to a government hospital near the port about a week before the explosion. Hospital staff said the infant needed a liver transplant and was in critical condition.
On the day of the blast, Qusai’s aunt, Noura Mohammed, was sitting at his bedside while his mother rested at home. The aunt said the staff ordered everyone to evacuate immediately after the explosion, and that she found the infant dead, crushed by fallen debris, when she returned.
Hospital officials said Qusai died an hour after the explosion, with the death certificate listing cardio respiratory arrest as the cause. The family buried him a day later.
“We asked them (the authorities) to register my son among the victims of the blast,” his mother, Sarah Jassem Mohammed, said in a recent interview in a small tent in an orchard in the northern Lebanese village of Markabta, where she lives with her husband, two sons and one daughter. “They refused.”
Lebanon is home to more than 1 million Syrian refugees, who make about 20% of the country’s population. A Lebanese group, the Anti-Racism Movement, said that among those killed in the blast were at least 76 non-Lebanese citizens, including 52 Syrians.
Meanwhile, many in Lebanon have been losing faith in the domestic investigation and some have started filing cases abroad against companies suspected of bringing in the ammonium nitrate.
The chemicals had been shipped to Lebanon in 2013. Senior political and security officials knew of their presence and potential danger but did nothing.
Lebanese and non-Lebanese victims alike have seen justice delayed, with the investigation stalled since December 2021. Lebanon’s powerful and corrupt political class has repeatedly intervened in the work of the judiciary.
In January, Lebanon’s top prosecutor Ghassan Oueidat ordered the release of all suspects detained in the investigation.
“The political class have used every tool at their disposal — both legal and extra legal — to undermine, obstruct, and block the domestic investigation into the blast,” said Aya Majzoub, deputy chief for the Mideast and North Africa at the rights group Amnesty International.
Makhoul Mohammed, 40, a Syrian citizen, was lightly injured in the blast in his Beirut apartment while his daughter Sama, who was 6 at the time, lost her left eye.
Mohammed, who settled in Canada last year, said he plans to sue those responsible for the explosion in a Canadian court.
“The (domestic) investigation will not lead to results as long as this political class is running the country,” he said.”
As written in Al Jazeera, in an article entitled Photos: Hundreds protest as Lebanon marks third anniversary of Beirut blast: Three years on, investigation is virtually at a standstill, leaving survivors still yearning for answers; “Lebanon marked three years since one of history’s biggest non-nuclear explosions rocked Beirut with hundreds of protesters marching alongside victims’ families to demand long-awaited justice.
Nobody has been held to account for the tragedy as political and legal pressures impede the investigation.
On August 4, 2020, the massive blast at Beirut’s port destroyed swathes of the Lebanese capital, killing more than 220 people and injuring at least 6,500.
Authorities said the disaster was triggered by a fire in a warehouse where a vast stockpile of ammonium nitrate fertiliser had been haphazardly stored for years.
Three years on, the probe is virtually at a standstill, leaving survivors still yearning for answers.
Protesters, many wearing black and carrying photographs of the victims, marched towards the port shouting slogans including: “We will not forget.”
“Our pain inspires our persistence to search for the truth,” said protester Tania Daou-Alam, 54, who lost her husband in the explosion.
Lack of justice “is the biggest example of rampant corruption in Lebanon, and we can no longer bear it”, she said.
The blast struck during an economic collapse, which the World Bank has called one of the worst in recent history and is widely blamed on a governing elite accused of corruption and mismanagement.
Some protesters waved a Lebanese flag covered in blood-like red paint while others carried an enormous flag covered in a written pledge to keep fighting for justice.
“I have the right to know why my fellow Lebanese were killed,” said protester Jad Mattar, 42.
Since its early days, the investigation into the explosion has faced a slew of political and legal challenges.
In December 2020, lead investigator Fadi Sawan charged former Prime Minister Hassan Diab and three ex-ministers with negligence.
But as political pressure mounted, Sawan was removed from the case.
His successor, Tarek Bitar, unsuccessfully asked lawmakers to lift parliamentary immunity for MPs who were formerly cabinet ministers.
The interior ministry has refused to execute arrest warrants that the lead investigator has issued.
In December 2021, Bitar suspended his probe after a barrage of lawsuits, mainly from politicians he summoned on charges of negligence.
Bitar has refused to step aside but has not set foot inside Beirut’s Justice Palace for months.
“Work [on the investigation] is ongoing,” a legal expert with knowledge of the case said, requesting anonymity because of the sensitivity of the issue.
Bitar is determined to keep his promise to deliver justice for victims’ families, the expert added.
On Thursday, 300 individuals and organisations, including Human Rights Watch (HRW) and Amnesty International, renewed a call for the United Nations to establish a fact-finding mission – a demand Lebanese officials have repeatedly rejected.
“If those responsible are not held accountable, it will put the country on a trajectory that allows this kind of crime to be repeated,” HRW’s Lama Fakih told the Agence France-Presse news agency at the protest.
As written by Tamara Qiblawi in CNN, in an article entitled Beirut’s port blast two years on: An open wound festers as authorities try to close the case; “Clocks stopped when one of the largest non-nuclear explosions in history ripped through Beirut. Inside wrecked homes and shops, the force of the shockwaves froze the dials of timepieces, some vintage, others sleek and modern.
It was 6:07 pm. Thousands of lives were upended and the Lebanese capital — no stranger to disaster — was transformed into a hellscape.
Much like the broken clocks, the catastrophe appears to have been suspended in time. Thursday marks two years since the port explosion. Yet the city’s hardest hit, eastern neighborhoods still bear the scars of the blast. The relatives of at least 215 people who perished still rally for justice. The judicial investigation into the explosion is moribund. And the port’s hulking wheat silos — which withstood the effects of the blast despite their proximity — have been burning for weeks.
In the two years since the explosion, Lebanon’s political elite — known colloquially by the pejorative term al-sulta, or “the power” — has evaded justice and tried to sweep the memory under the proverbial rug. For activists, especially relatives of the deceased, it was painfully reminiscent of the way in which the country’s civil war ended in 1990.
Then, an amnesty law absolved Lebanon’s warring parties of apparent crimes against humanity and war crimes, including massacres, rapes, extrajudicial executions and mass displacement. Accounts of the 15-year conflict are nowhere to be found in the country’s official history books. An entire population was instructed to move on.
The authorities’ playbook has been similar in its response to the 2020 port blast, which remains the single most deadly explosion in Lebanon’s modern history, causing material and physical casualties as far as 12 kilometers (7.5 miles) away.
In the intervening years, the government has repeatedly blocked a judicial probe that charged several officials with criminal neglect over the improper storage of up to 2,700 tons of explosive ammonium nitrate, the ignition of which led to the devastating blast. Some of those who were charged were re-elected to parliament this year.
Earlier this year, the government also rolled out plans to demolish the damaged silos, drawing the ire of the victims’ families, who regard them as a memorial to the disaster. The government bowed to popular pressure and the plan was dropped.
But weeks later, the structure began to burn, arousing the suspicion of activists and relatives of the deceased. They accused the government of making half-hearted attempts to put out the fires — a charge it denies. When two of the silos finally collapsed over the weekend, activists seethed.
“For weeks you let the silos slowly burn and took no serious action to stop the fire,” activist Lucien Bourjeily tweeted, apparently addressing the political establishment. “The collapse (of the silos) today resembles the collapse of the state which is slowly falling apart, with no serious action to stop this nor hold those responsible accountable.”
Beirut’s wheat silos are many things at once. They stand as a towering tombstone to a bygone era. The smoldering structure also seems to fester like the open wound of the city’s collective memory. And importantly to relatives of the victims, it marks the scene of a crime, a looming mass that serves as a reminder of the quest for accountability.
Since the explosion, Lebanon’s financial tailspin, which began in October 2019, has continued. The country is in the throes of a bread crisis, in part because of the fallout from Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, but also due to Lebanon’s infrastructural and financial decay. Its economic woes — inflation, ballooning unemployment, mass poverty — continue unabated.
But for many, the successive crises have not overshadowed the memories of the Beirut port blast: the shattered glass that crunched underfoot for weeks afterward; the scenes of overflowing hospital wards; those who perished and those who barely survived. For those seeking justice, the events of 6:07 pm on August 4, 2020 must continue to reverberate until the people responsible are held to account.”
As written by Jamie Prentis in The National, in an article entitled Lebanon marks second anniversary of deadly Beirut port blast; ”Lebanon on Thursday marks two years since the explosion at Beirut’s port that killed more than 215 people, injured thousands and destroyed large parts of the capital.
Families of the victims plan to hold marches in Beirut on Thursday afternoon, as they continue their search for justice, with protests also expected in cities in the US, Europe and elsewhere.
The August 4 explosion occurred after a huge stock of ammonium nitrate, inexplicably left in storage at the port for years, caught fire.
So far, no senior officials have been held accountable over the blast and a judicial investigation has been stalled for eight months. There has been widespread political interference in the probe and two sitting MPs charged in connection with the investigation have refused to attend hearings.
Speaking on the morning of the anniversary, Lebanon’s top Christian cleric Bechara Boutros Al Rai hit out at the government’s handling of the probes. He said it had “no right” to impede the investigations and that “God condemns those officials” who did so.
UN Secretary General Antonio Guterres said there had been “two years without justice”.
“In the name of the dead, among them the son of a UN staff member, I reiterate my call for an impartial, thorough and transparent investigation into the explosion,” he said.
Two-year-old Isaac, the son of UN staffer Sarah Copland, was the youngest person to die in the explosion.
Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, Legal Action Worldwide and other NGOs on Wednesday called on the UN to send a fact-finding mission.
“It is now, more than ever, clear that the domestic investigation cannot deliver justice,” they said.
On the eve of the second anniversary of the deadly blast, Pope Francis said the truth over what happened “can never be hidden”.
The 2020 explosion has been blamed on mismanagement and corruption, and is viewed as a symptom of the country’s many systemic problems.
Compounding the trauma for survivors and relatives of victims is a fire which has blazed for weeks at the port’s grain silos, which were heavily damaged in the blast.
A section of the silos collapsed on Sunday, and there have been warnings that another will fall soon — possibly on Thursday.
The fate of the silos, which shielded parts of Beirut from the blast, remains a deeply sensitive topic. In April, Lebanon’s Cabinet approved their demolition after a survey found they could collapse in the coming months.
But many Lebanese, including families of some of the blast victims, want the silos to remain as a memorial. Some believe the government is using the fire as a pretext to allow the demolition of the silos.
Meanwhile, Lebanon is in the grip of a devastating economic crisis which first became apparent in 2019 and has been described by the World Bank as one of the worst in modern history.”
And in another article in The Nation, Jamie Prentis and Nada Homsi write; ” At least two more silos damaged in the Beirut port blast collapsed on Thursday, as Lebanon marked two years since the massive explosion that killed more than 200 people, injured thousands and destroyed large parts of the capital.
The collapse happened as people were gathering at the site to mark the blast anniversary. Families of the victims held marches in Beirut on Thursday afternoon as they continue their search for justice, with protests also planned in the US, Europe and elsewhere.
A few hundred people began their march at the Qasr El Adel in Adlieh, holding photos of the victims as well as placards with slogans such as, “You will not kill us twice” and “Lebanon is hostage to a criminal regime”. The number of marchers had grown to about 2,000 by the time they reached the port.”
As written by Clement Gibon in Time, in an article entitled The Grieving Families Fighting to Preserve a Crumbling Symbol of the Beirut Blast; “ At Gate 9 of Beirut’s port in mid July, all eyes were on the mammoth, concrete grain silos. There was a blazing fire and plumes of smoke were billowing out of the northern block of silos. Rima Zahed was here at a protest holding a portrait of her brother, Amin, one of the 218 people who were killed in the catastrophic Aug. 4, 2020 explosion at the port, which left the silos a disemboweled shell of their former selves. Zahed feared the additional damage would cause them to collapse—and denounced the Lebanese authorities for not stamping out the blaze.
“The authorities told us that the fire was extinguished despite the fact that it was growing. They could have stopped it,” Zahed said. Her fears were borne out on July 31, when part of the silos collapsed, kicking up thick dust around the port and, for many Lebanese, reigniting trauma from the 2020 blast just days ahead of the two-year anniversary.
Beirut’s port silos were first completed in 1970, and before the explosion they stored some 85% of Lebanon’s grain. Jean Touma, a former director of the silos from 1976-2006, says they had long ensured the country’s food security.
But in April, Lebanon’s cabinet approved the demolition of all of Beirut’s port silos—both the northern and southern ones—located at the site of the 2020 blast. Ever since, the families of the victims of the blast have mobilized to preserve them, and are outraged about Sunday’s partial collapse. Judicial investigations into the explosion, one of the largest non-nuclear ones in history, have been obstructed and stalled by Lebanese authorities for over a year. (An independent report by Human Rights Watch last August found that “multiple Lebanese authorities were, at a minimum, criminally negligent under Lebanese law” over the handling of 2,750 tons of ammonium nitrate stored at the port since 2014, which caused the blast after the warehouse where the fertilizers were deposited in caught on fire.)
On July 4, the same day the fire erupted, civil society groups alongside families of the victims launched a solidarity campaign called “The Silent Witness.” The goal still remains to protect the silos—at least now what’s left of them—that are located less than 300 feet from the epicenter of the 2020 explosion, and which absorbed much of the blast’s force thanks to the dense grain that had been stored within them. For Mariana Fodoulian, who lost her 29-year-old sister in the blast, both the collapse and the government’s drive to demolish all of the silos is part of the country’s endemic culture of impunity.
“How could they let the [northern block of silos] collapse just before Aug. 4?” Fodoulian says. If no silos are left standing in the end, “when future generations grow up, no one can tell them what happened.”
A history of amnesia
A culture of impunity has plagued Lebanon since the 1975-1990 civil war—which left at least 120,000 people dead and pushed some 1 million people, more than one-third of the population at the time, to leave the country. The adoption of an amnesty law in 1991 protected those accused of war crimes and allowed them to remain key players in Lebanon’s fractured political scene. No less than 17,000 people are still missing from the war, affecting thousands of families who are still waiting for answers about their fate.
At the same time, key visual reminders of the war have been erased through the demolition of historic downtown areas that saw some of the conflict’s fiercest fighting. Experts say that firms involved in post-war reconstruction—chiefly Solidere, which was overseen by former Prime Minister Rafic Hariri—contributed to that amnesia. Critics say that Solidere further erased memories of the war by tearing down iconic and historical buildings such as the Rivoli cinema and destroying more homes than even the fighting had.
Lebanese authorities have been “trying to repeat the same policies of amnesia that followed the civil war with the silos. They do not want people to remember anything related to the crimes they committed,” says Soha Mneimeh, an urban planning researcher at the Beirut Urban Lab and member of the Order of Engineers and Architects of Beirut.
Families of the victims and activists who have been trying to protect the silos are troubled by the lack of consideration by the government, Mneimeh says. (The government has not launched any public consultations, nor input from the families of the deceased.) The blaze and subsequent collapse has only fueled that anger.
Following the 2020 blast, the government commissioned several studies to assess the damage to the silos. One of the latest, conducted in March by the Swiss firm Ammann Engineering, noted that the northern block would not stand for more than a decade and could collapse within months. The assessment concluded that the southern block, however, was stable and “demolition is not a priority compared to other challenges in Beirut port.”
Mneimeh says the northern block of silos could have been safely reinforced and preserved—a view that was supported by some of the studies. For her, these studies make clear that the decision in April to demolish all of the silos, including the stable southern ones, was ultimately a political one.
Indeed, the government’s plan to rebuild the silos at a new location is an apparent recognition that the blast site could not be easily repurposed for other uses. These 48-meter (157-foot) concrete structures were built on land that was reclaimed from the sea and reinforced with piles. The foundations sitting below can no longer withstand large structures, engineers and architects have said.
A push for remembrance
In June, the families of the victims filed three lawsuits at Lebanon’s Shura council to overturn the government’s decision to demolish all of the silos. They have also requested a stay of execution until the council considers the suits. For Ghida Frangieh, a lawyer who helped draft one of the lawsuits and is a researcher at the NGO Legal Agenda, continuing ahead with such plans would deny victims their rights.
“International standards consider preservation of the crime site to be part of compensation for victims, which includes recognition of the victims’ pain and satisfaction,” Frangieh says. Failure to preserve them “would not only affect their mental health, but also their right to be treated with dignity.”
In addition to legal recourse, the families of the victims have for months tried to register the silos on the UNESCO World Heritage List. These efforts build off Minister of Culture Mohammad Wissam El-Mortada’s decision in March to designate them as heritage buildings.
“The silos are part of the city,” says Mortada. “They also represent a common memory for all the people who were victims of the explosion.”
Mortada soon after withdrew his decision to list the silos as a heritage site, citing a lack of resources to secure their protection. But he says he has been working since then to create a public park with an open museum and a memorial site in collaboration with artist Rudy Rahme on the east side of Beirut’s port.
That there are government plans to rebuild the silos—at a time of soaring wheat prices and global food disruption brought on by the war in Ukraine, not to mention Lebanon’s ongoing economic crisis—at a separate location bolsters the case for preserving what’s left of them, the families say.
Back at the launch of the “Silent Witness” campaign in early July, by the Emigrant statue opposite the port that acknowledges the millions of Lebanese in the diaspora, Elie Hasrouty, who lost his 59-year-old father who was working at the silos at the time of the explosion, is exasperated by the uphill battle to preserve the silos.
“Every day that passes, with the stalling of the investigation and the government’s willingness to demolish the silos, is a continuation of the Aug. 4 crime,” Hasrouty says. He says that he is at a “great loss” when TIME checks in with him after the partial collapse. “It is a place that represented our wounds, and our pain. I am very angry with the behavior of the authorities. It has been two years and nothing has been done to preserve the silos, and make it a place of memory.”
Arabic
4 أغسطس 2021 جنون الموت تجاوز الإضاءة: أنشودة بيروت
يا إخوتي وأخواتي ، إن كوننا ليس دائمًا عقلانيًا أو ذا مغزى من منظورنا ؛ إنها فوضوية وسخيفة وعدائية في كثير من الأحيان. نحن بحاجة إلى المعنى والقيمة ، ولكن كل ما لدينا هو المعنى والقيمة التي نخلقها ونفرضها على العدم. اللانهائي يسخر منا ، ولكنه أيضًا يلهمنا ويتحدىنا لنصبح أفضل.
حل رعب يفوق التصوير في بيروت التي أصبحت مهدمة. انتشرت الحضارة في جميع أنحاء البحر الأبيض المتوسط من هنا منذ آلاف السنين ، ووحدت أوروبا وآسيا وأفريقيا في مجتمع البشرية الذي يتردد صداه من خلال وعينا اليوم.
نحن نبحث عن معنى في الكوارث والأحداث المربكة للحياة التي يرثها الجسد ، ولكن كما في كارثة بيروت ، غالبًا ما تكون هذه الأسباب خارجة عن فهمنا.
أشير هنا الآن إلى سورة 18 من القرآن الكريم ، تسمى الكهف ، الآيات 60-82 ، وهي قصة رمزية فيها الخضر ، الشخصية الإسلامية المخادعة التي هي خالدة وترمز إلى اللون الأخضر لتجسيد جنة الجنة ، التي تعمل كدليل للنفس عبر ألغاز متاهة الحياة التي تقود إليها ، والتي تخاطبنا من خلال الأحلام والرؤى والعلامات.
أنا أعتبره شكل سردي لنظرية وديل. دليل على ضرورة الإيمان ووجود اللانهائي لحدود المعرفة الإنسانية وعبثية الحالة الإنسانية. يتوافق هذا التفسير مع تفسير العالم والمترجم العظيم عبد الله يوسف علي.
كما هو الحال مع تجربة الفكر التأسيسي لأحد معاصري أفلاطون ، الرمح للأرخيتا ، الذي يحدد أفق المعرف باسمه ويلقي بحدود في الهبوط ، والتي نكررها بلا نهاية في الثورات العلمية ، يبقى المجهول واسعًا كما كان من قبل والمحافظة على الجهل. هذا هو المبدأ الأول لنظرية المعرفة. حفظ الجهل.
تلخص القصة القانونية مواضيع ذبيحة إبراهيم التي أود أن أقول أنها تشكل أساس العقيدة الإسلامية ، وفي شوارع بيروت منذ فترة طويلة رأيتها تتكشف مرة أخرى.
في هذه القصة ، يرشد الرجل الأخضر موسى من خلال القيام بثلاثة أشياء إجرامية وغير منطقية ، أشياء لا يمكن فهمها إلا من خلال المعرفة المسبقة للنبوة التي ليست لنا. كما هو الحال مع العدالة ، البصيرة لا تخص الإنسان.
المقطع ذات الصلة هذا ؛ فَأَرَدْنَا أَن يُبْدِلَهُمَا رَبُّهُمَا خَيْرًا مِّنْهُ زَكَاةً وَأَقْرَبَ رُحْمًا ، أو “لذا قصدنا أن يحل ربهم محلهم ابنًا أفضل منه في الطهارة وأقرب إلى الرحمة”. كما أنه يمثل نقطة تشعب تتحول عليها العقود الآجلة المحتملة.
لدي أمل لمستقبل البشرية بسبب ما شاهدته عندما تم عرض هذه القصة الأولية أمامي قبل ثمانية وثلاثين سنة مضت ، وبسببها لم يأس أبداً.
مثل هذه البوابة تقف أو كانت في يوم من الأيام في بيروت ، مثل بوابة راشومون أو بوابة اللانهائي والإمكانيات غير المحدودة للإنسان. قد يكون الآن غبارًا وذكريات ، أو مثل قطة شرودنجر ، كلاهما موجود وغير موجود في وقت واحد ؛ هذا لا يمكنني الإجابة عليه.
لكن يمكنني أن أتكلم كشاهد على التاريخ بأن شيئًا رائعًا حدث هناك في ظلها ، مثل تبادل خضر الشاب بآخر لمنع حدوث شر أكبر في المستقبل ، مفارقة السفر عبر الزمن إذا كان هناك أي شيء ، أدهشني بقوة الوحي.
لقد كان شيئًا غير ذي أهمية في نطاق حصار بيروت ، وحشية واحدة من بين العديد من الفظائع التي تم تجنبها من خلال الخير الفطري لرجل واحد لا يزال اسمه غير معروف ، بطل مأساوي لن أنساه أبدًا ، مجند غير راغب في خدمة حكومته مثل كثيرين آخرين ، الذين قالوا لا للسلطة ولإغواء الشر. إن وجود البشرية محوري في توازن هؤلاء الأفراد ، وهم قليلون جدًا.
رفض هذا الجندي الإسرائيلي ارتكاب انتهاكات وحروق على فتاة فلسطينية تبلغ من العمر اثني عشر عامًا ، تم أسرها لهذا الغرض من قبل ملازم فصيلته ، وهو اختبار ولاء مشترك. خجل عند أول طلب من ضابطه لسخرية زملائه ، هناك في الشارع قبل بوابة القرار الذي يجب أن نواجهه جميعًا ، ثم غضب في الرفض عندما أدرك أنه ليس مزحة ، أن الاحتلال كان عن الإرهاب ونهب وليس كما قيل له. قتله ضابط قيادته حيث وقف برصاصة واحدة في الرأس أثناء هروب الفتاة.
لقد عدت إلى هذا المكان طوال حياتي لألمس الأحجار الملطخة بدمه ، لأنني أتذكر أننا لسنا خارج حدود الخلاص ، وطالما أننا نقاوم السلطة الظالمة فنحن أحرار ، وهناك أمل.
A Map of My Beirut, what remains of it and the ghosts of what it was
Here a great nothingness has swallowed the voices of the past
Yet they live within us, songs of ourselves and the limitless possibilities of becoming human
How can we answer the terror of our nothingness
The flaws of our humanity
And the brokenness of the world?
Here among the ruins of a lost grandeur
Fallen empires and the ghosts and legacies of
Beautiful and terrible histories
I wail in grief, I roar defiance, I demand justice
But my words are devoured by silences
I swear vengeance for a lost history and a ruined city
Without an enemy to bring a reckoning to
For this hammer blow of fate was the act of no saboteur
But only a consequence of our common greed and responsibility shifting
And the labyrinthine bureaucracy that misfiled records
Of a derelict ship full of fertilizer quietly degrading in harbor for years
How many such forgotten existential threats
Now lie waiting to seize and shake us?
Here was once a gate to the Infinite and a shrine of the Impossible
In bloodstains which offered hope and redemption
Where now not a stone stands upon a stone
And the light of Beirut become
Vast and fathomless chasms of darkness
Arabic
خارطة بيروت بلدي وما تبقى منها وأشباح ما كانت عليه
هنا ابتلع العدم العظيم أصوات الماضي
ومع ذلك ، فهم يعيشون في داخلنا ، أغاني من أنفسنا وإمكانيات لا حدود لها في أن نصبح بشرًا
كيف يمكننا الرد على رعب العدم لدينا
عيوب إنسانيتنا
وانكسار الدنيا؟
هنا بين أنقاض العظمة المفقودة الإمبراطوريات الساقطة وأشباح وموروثات
تواريخ جميلة ورهيبة
أبوح حزنًا ، وأصرخ متحديًا ، وأطالب بالعدالة
لكن الصمت يلتهم كلامي
أقسم بالانتقام لتاريخ ضائع ومدينة مدمرة
بدون عدو لجلب الحساب إليه
لأن ضربة القدر هذه كانت فعلاً غير مخرب
ولكن فقط نتيجة لتغير جشعنا المشترك ومسؤوليتنا
والبيروقراطية المتاهة التي أخطأت في ضبط السجلات
من سفينة مهجورة مليئة بالأسمدة تتحلل بهدوء في الميناء لسنوات
كم عدد هذه التهديدات الوجودية المنسية
الآن تكمن في انتظار الاستيلاء علينا وهزنا؟
هنا كانت ذات مرة بوابة إلى اللانهائي وضريح المستحيل
في بقع الدماء التي أعطت الأمل والفداء
حيث لا يوجد الآن حجر يقف على حجر
ويصبح نور بيروت
منوعات الظلام الشاسعة التي لا يسبر غورها
3 years after Beirut port blast, intrigue foils an investigation and even the death toll is disputed
Photos: Hundreds protest as Lebanon marks third anniversary of Beirut blast
Infinity and the Mind: The Science and Philosophy of the Infinite, by Rudy Rucker
Rashomon Effects: Kurosawa, Rashomon and Their Legacies
by Blair Davis (Editor), Robert Anderson (Editor), Jan Walls (Editor)
In Search of Schrödinger’s Cat: Quantum Physics and Reality, by John Gribbin
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/513367.In_Search_of_Schr_dinger_s_Cat
Khidr in Sufi Poetry: A Selection, by Paul Smith
Where the Two Seas Meet: Al-Khidr and Moses—The Qur’anic Story of al-Khidr and Moses in Sufi Commentaries as a Model for Spiritual Guidance, by Hugh Talat Halman
Lebanon, a reading list
Beirut, Samir Kassir
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/7966167-beirut?ref=nav_sb_ss_1_12
Lebanon: A History, 600 – 2011, William W. Harris
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13687123-lebanon?ref=nav_sb_ss_1_50
Memory for Forgetfulness: August Beirut 1982, Mahmoud Darwish
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/142583.Memory_for_Forgetfulness?ref=nav_sb_ss_1_62
Concerto al-Quds, Adonis, Khaled Mattawa (Translation)
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/34746502-concerto-al-quds?ref=nav_sb_ss_1_21
https://time.com/6202125/beirut-explosion-anniversary/
https://www.cnn.com/2021/08/03/opinions/beirut-explosion-one-year-anniversary-bazzi/index.html
Torch of Liberty 
