When he sees politicians in full flow on his television set, Anwar reaches for the remote control. Like many Lebanese, he has developed a strong aversion for the antics of the country’s political class.
“I turn to the satirical programmes that send them up instead,” the photographer says.
One such show depicts political leaders as puppets, wearing short pants and being manipulated by their Iranian, Syrian, American and French “masters”.
With the sole exception of al-Manar, the television channel of the Shi’ite Hezbollah organisation, all Lebanon’s private TV stations broadcast satirical shows.
Undisputed leader of the pack is LBCI, with 26% of the audience tuning in to Basmat Watan — a play on words in Arabic meaning both “smiles” and “death of a nation”. Its figures beat the 8pm news, which comes in a poor fourth place with 18,4% of the ratings.
The audience for Basmat Watan also trounces the 16,3% garnered by the highly valued political talkfest Kalam al-Nass (What the People Say).
One sketch depicts the smelly suit of a politician that continues to stink, no matter whether the detergent used to clean it is Western, Syrian or Iranian. The cleaner discovers that the terrible odour comes from the man who wears it.
Basmat Watan producer Sharbel Khalil is a pioneer in this kind of programming in Lebanon, which he began in 1993. A year ago a sketch in which he parodied Hezbollah leader Sheikh Hassan Nasrallah sparked rioting by the movement’s supporters.
“Our satire has become an outlet,” Khalil says. “By tuning in, Lebanese compensate for their sense of powerlessness, and the fact that they are not masters of their own destinies.”
He is a staunch defender of the country’s independence. “In the past, I used to ridicule Syrian domination. These days I strip naked our politicians who have offered us up as food to a multitude of other influences,” he says.
“The key is to take on absolutely everyone. I make no secret of my sympathies for General Michel Aoun,” the leader of the Christian opposition, who is allied with Hezbollah. “But one of my favourite skits shows a journalist whose face is all puffed after interviewing the general,” who is reportedly quick-tempered.
Lebanon is known for its freedom of expression in a region dominated by authoritarian regimes.
Andre Gedeon has taken up the torch of The 10 O’Clock Theatre, a cabaret troupe specialising in satire that was founded in 1962.
One skit on the political power struggles shows a perilous bus journey to Baabda — the official residence of the country’s president — in which the vehicle is full of Lebanese in the dubious care of a particularly bad driver whose lack of skills threatens to plunge them into a ravine at any moment.
Lebanon’s current political crisis was partly sparked by Syria issuing a decree in 2004 renewing the mandate of the President, Emile Lahoud.
“We urge the Lebanese to laugh at themselves through their history of blood and tears,” says Gedeon. “In denouncing politicians, we are sending a message to young people not to allow themselves to be used as cannon fodder in a new civil war aimed at satisfying their power-crazy leaders.”
Lebanese politicians themselves have even been known to wield the weapon of humour, albeit questionably.
In a political broadcast earlier this month, the pro-Syrian Speaker of Parliament, Nabih Berri, said he had “high hopes of the SS” — Syria and Saudi Arabia — in solving the Lebanese political crisis. — AFP