Please Forget

For many, forgetting is a coping mechanism that helps them overcome hardship. But it is also the means—and often the goal—sought by wrongdoers eager to erase their tracks.

A population with the memory of a goldfish is every fisherman’s dream: a form of collective Alzheimer’s that guarantees a quiet life, smooth and undisturbed. Lebanon is perhaps the most striking example.

Recently, some financial institutions have begun offering interest-bearing returns on cash deposits—an expression we had not heard since 2019. For many, this is worse than the apple in the Garden of Eden: Adam and Eve were naked before taking a bite, whereas we succumbed to these usurious interest rates, which led us straight into erosion and ruin.

These advertisements are shocking. They suggest that before 2019 we should have been more vigilant about reckless investments—decisions made without our consent by the banks themselves. The very banks that once sold us peace of mind, a radiant future, and slogans even more saccharine than those of the Soviet regime.

And yet, although it is true that the state is the primary black hole, some media outlets still manage to absolve banks of all responsibility, as if their owners were above suspicion. Curiously, every one of these bankers moved their money abroad. At least Philip Morris had the decency to consume his own product—though it killed him.

Thanks to this goldfish syndrome that has turned us Lebanese into the dupes of a farce, political leaders and banks are working hand in hand to erase the past and open a “new page.”

Had banks been consistent, they would have sued the state years ago. But in this chaotic political-financial entanglement, it is impossible to separate truth from falsehood, and reality remains buried in the brothels of accounting.

We are being asked to start all over again—a new version of Kipling’s If, based on the idea that we Lebanese have “seen worse.”

And this farce works beautifully thanks to two factors: indecency and indifference.

Indecency defines those who robbed us and now flaunt the fruits of our labor. The more contemptuous these criminals become, the more their entourage of useful idiots and social climbers grows. Some transferred everything abroad during the crisis; others erase public debt with the stroke of a pen—that is to say, our savings.

All of this unfolds amid near-total indifference, fueled by a foolish concept called resilience. This ability—more powerful than any sedative—wipes the memory of those whose sole obsession is to live as if nothing ever happened, a permanent carpe diem.

Indecency and indifference: the twin pillars of this banana republic called Lebanon, which must remain unchanged—especially during holidays or summer seasons.

Had Kipling witnessed these events, he would have been appalled by our capacity to forget, and might have written:

If you can see the work of your life destroyed

And, without a word—out of shame—begin again;

See your savings stolen without shame or alibi,

And speak of the future against sunsets and daiquiris;

If you can rebuild your home,

Devastated on an August 4,

Stay silent and pay without raising a doubt;

Knowing the state, like a spade,

Will return tomorrow to dig in and tighten its grip on your throat;

If you can lose everything without ever saying no,

Take your servitude for quiet strength,

And start over without blinking, thinking yourself resilient,

Then you will truly know Lebanon,

And you will be, alas, a true fool, my son.