When Theft Becomes a “Gap”

Lebanon did not collapse because of a flaw in the numbers, but because meanings and values fell apart.

Suddenly, the money stolen from ordinary people was no longer called theft, but a “financial gap.” There were no longer any responsible parties, only “losses.” And there were no longer any victims, only “depositors” who were being asked to understand the circumstances and share in bearing the cost.

This is not merely a matter of language. It is the very heart of the battle.

When a crime is reduced to an accounting term, the debate becomes technical rather than ethical and legal. The issue is removed from the arena of justice and transferred to that of management, shifting from “who stole?” to “how do we distribute the loss?” And here begins the great slide: the victims gradually transform from rights holders into actors in the solution, rather than bearers of rights.

What happened in Lebanon was not a passing financial storm. It was the result of a conspiracy orchestrated by an entire system: a state that borrowed without limit, a central bank that engineered illusions, and banks that accumulated extraordinary profits before slamming their doors in the faces of their depositors. And yet, the solutions being proposed today start from the pockets of ordinary people, not from the sources of the dysfunction.

Plans are presented under “realistic” or “escue” headings, while in essence they amount to nothing more than a redistribution of losses, rather than a treatment of their causes. Depositors are being asked to accept the write-off of a portion of their assets, or their conversion into shares in entities whose value remains undefined. Even the proposals that appear less harsh — such as the idea of a sovereign fund into which state assets would be placed — are not without danger, not because of the concept itself, but because of those who would manage it. That is why this idea remains ambiguous and perilous as long as it is not tied to a basic condition: who guarantees transparency, and who is held accountable?

The fundamental contradiction is that whoever calls for transparency and judicial reform is simultaneously proposing to hand state assets over to a system that has so far demonstrated no capacity for transparency or accountability.

For my part, the problem lies not only in the solutions themselves, but in the ordering of priorities: do we begin with accountability, or do we leap over it?

How can one speak of “governance” and “sound management” of state assets in a country that has yet to succeed in conducting a single serious audit, or in holding any actual official accountable for the collapse? How can one trust that what was not preserved in the banks will be preserved in a fund? Is this not simply a transfer of losses from the balance sheets of banks to the body of the state itself — that is, to society as a whole?

More dangerous still is the leap over a fundamental principle: no lasting solution can be built on a foundation that ignores responsibilities. At that point the debate is no longer merely economic; it is also legal. For Lebanon is not outside the world, and it is bound by international anti-corruption conventions, including UNCAC, which unequivocally places the recovery of looted assets and accountability at the heart of any reform process.

If there has been corruption, it is not enough to manage its consequences; it must be exposed, those responsible must be held accountable, and the stolen funds must be recovered. States are obligated to pursue the recovery of assets that have been stolen or transferred by illicit means, and it is not possible to bypass the determination of responsibilities: who made the decisions? who benefited? who provided cover?

What is required is transparency: any reform must pass through genuine auditing, an independent judiciary, and clarity in the figures.

I am not a financial expert, but I know that there is a difference between treating losses and treating their causes.

In other words: before people are asked to absorb the losses, a serious effort must be made to recover what was transferred or benefited from through illegal means. And before restructuring the banking system, those who abused it must be identified.

But perhaps the most dangerous thing is not the substance of these proposals, but their timing.

At a moment of war, existential anxiety and crucial negotiations open onto long-term contingencies, the depositors’ file is being reopened. Not because the timing is right, but because it may suit those who wish to push through what would not survive a broader public debate. In moments of widespread distraction, the capacity for resistance weakens, discussions are cut short, and what was once unacceptable becomes passable under the banner of “necessity.”

Existential questions require collective awareness, not collective exhaustion. They require open debate, not the pressure of time and fear. For solutions imposed in moments of weakness are rarely just.

This does not mean the file can be postponed indefinitely. But there is a great difference between raising a fundamental issue within the framework of an open national debate and slipping it into the crush of fear and fatigue, where citizens are transformed from engaged participants into passive recipients.

Major questions do not require only solutions, but equitable conditions under which to be raised.

They need collective awareness, not collective exhaustion.

For otherwise, any solution — however technical or balanced it may appear — will carry within it the distortion of the moment that gave it birth.

The problem does not lie in the search for solutions, but in the nature of those solutions and in the ordering of priorities. When any plan begins by erasing rights rather than securing them, and by protecting the system rather than calling it to account, it does not address the crisis: it reproduces it in another form.

What is being demanded today is not a financial miracle, but a minimum of justice. That things be called by their proper names. That responsibilities be determined.

That a genuine attempt be made to recover the funds.

Otherwise, we will be faced with a familiar spectacle:

New language, new terminology, a new formula… but the same result.

Not a “gap,” but a plain story: funds that were stolen, and a system attempting to convince their rightful owners to accept the loss as fate.