How Much Distance Should Lebanon Keep from Syria?

Can Lebanon and Syria ever enjoy calm, balanced relations founded on mutual respect? It is difficult to believe so when our relationship has so often been governed by hostility, suspicion, and threats carried through. Throughout our shared history, no humiliation has been spared us, regardless of the regime ruling in Damascus.

Take, for example, what befell our small country beginning in August 1948, when Khaled al-Azem*, then Prime Minister of Syria, imposed "controls on imports and an embargo on goods destined for Lebanon." In the collective memory of our fathers' generation, his name remains forever associated with the closure of the Syrian-Lebanese border in 1949—a decision driven by political motives as well as protectionist policies. It amounted to an attempt to suffocate Lebanon economically and force it into submission. Even then, Lebanon served as Damascus's whipping boy—long before Abdel Hamid Khaddam turned it into his favorite scapegoat.

The political circles of Damascus have never truly accepted the Lebanese exception, even if, at times, they resigned themselves to it. Our Syrian neighbors—and brothers nevertheless—have always harbored what psychologists call mixed feelings toward Lebanon: an uneasy blend of admiration and resentment. This ambivalence has repeatedly poisoned the ties between our two countries, made all the more inescapable by geography.

Lebanon, for its part, has not always been beyond reproach. From its territory—more or less treated as a sanctuary—plots were often hatched against successive governments in the Umayyad capital, whether those governments were legitimate or the product of military coups.

It was enough to lead some observers to conclude that responsibility was shared.

The Weight of History and the Tyranny of Geography

Burdened by decades of accumulated prejudice, could Lebanon ever have maintained peaceful relations with Damascus?

Ghassan Tueni, who in his younger years had briefly flirted with the idea of a Greater Syria before abandoning it, eventually arrived at a wise compromise. In his view, Lebanon should never be governed against Syria—but neither should it ever be governed by Syria.

So, when Syrian leaders reassure us today about the sincerity of their intentions, we may certainly welcome their words. Yet we would be mistaken to ignore one fundamental reality: both physical and human geography have locked Syria and Lebanon into a relationship that is extraordinarily complex—perhaps even inextricable.

Historically, no ruler has been able to consolidate power in Damascus without casting an eye toward Beirut and seeking to tame that vibrant city whose economic dynamism and cultural vitality have always stood in sharp contrast to Syria's centralized political tradition.

Which is why one can only hope that Syria will eventually reconcile itself with the simple fact that Lebanon is not merely a piece of territory allegedly torn away from it in 1920 by the decision of French General Henri Gouraud.

And even if that had indeed been the case, more than a century has now passed. Much water has flowed under the bridge, and it would be exceedingly difficult today to find Lebanese who would advocate an Anschluss with the Syrian hinterland.

Is it not enough that we already share the same bed?

As early as March 1950, the "economic divorce" between Syria and Lebanon had effectively been pronounced. As a punitive measure, Damascus imposed a blockade along the border. Lebanon rejected the economic integration being offered, convinced that Syrian-style protectionism was incompatible with its own ultraliberal economic model.

From that moment onward, the two countries embarked on fundamentally different paths: Syria embraced socialism—first in its Nasserist version and later under Baathist rule—while the sweeping nationalization policies of the 1960s widened the gulf between them even further. The two states would never again be able to restore the masalih mushtaraka—these "common interests" inherited from the French Mandate.

This may explain the reservations recently expressed by Fares Souaid, who questioned the usefulness of creating a new Lebanese-Syrian High Joint Commission when normal diplomatic relations are already conducted through the exchange of ambassadors. Such an institution would merely revive memories of the Lebanese-Syrian Supreme Council—the symbol of the darkest years of Lebanon's subjugation under the triumphant rule of Hafez al-Assad.

If we are indeed to wipe the slate clean and open a new chapter with our larger neighbor, it would be sheer folly to let the wolf back into the sheepfold under the guise of a joint commission—whether economic or otherwise.

*It is worth recalling that this same Khaled al-Azem was only too happy to escape the military regime that seized power in Damascus. Having taken refuge in Beirut, he marveled in his Memoirs at the freedom enjoyed by the Lebanese—a freedom from which he himself, as a political exile, was able to benefit. He was hardly the only Syrian outcast who had once denounced Lebanon and its "intolerable independence," only to end up settling here. I am thinking of Shukri al-Quwatli, Ghassan Jadid, Akram al-Hawrani, Muhammad Umran, and many others besides.