There is an ugly little theatre trick Hezbollah has been playing for years. Act one, they make sure the audience is petrified. Act two, when their stunt collapses, they step forward with a wet hand to the chest and expect applause. The trick relies on two things. First, the party’s monopoly of force inside Lebanon. Second, people’s habit of folding when power demands it. Now the trick has a new punchline. They start a war alone. It goes badly. Really badly. They make Hamas look like a titan in comparison to how quickly it all collapsed under the weight of their own failures and internal betrayals. Then they ask everyone else to pay for it and to mourn them and allow them to stay the sole entity calling the shots. And most importantly, to not face any form of accountability. That is not leadership. That is extortion. And we’ve had enough.Hezbollah got where it is by turning politics into a racket. They keep weapons and networks that answer one central authority in Tehran, never the Lebanese State. They trade alleged safety for coerced silence. They deliver services in areas where the state can barely show up, but those services come with conditions. Ask a politician or a journalist to push back and you see how the system closes around you. Or how a car bomb t-bones your car when Nasrallah ordered the hit. The message is constant and simple. Shut up, or you will be charred pieces, a message to anyone thinking of anything but kneeling at the feet of the Iranian commanded group.This is not theory. It is daily life in Lebanon. You hear it in cancelled meetings, in the sudden absence of a candidate, in a neighborhood that once had multitudes of ideas, but now has only empty slogans of obedience. You see it in the informal taxes, the jobs that only go to people who know which side to kneel to, the threats that arrive by silenced guns or by tire slashed at night. The vocabulary is not only violence. It is control. It is power exercised in the smallest interactions so you learn to preempt the risk of public friction. You force someone who dared speak out against injustice, to go on TV and apologize and grovel for forgiveness after the dreaded “sa7soo7”.When Hezbollah took its model across the border into Syria, it did not bring a different version of itself. It brought the same blueprint. Proximity to the state was used to justify intervention. Loyalty to an axis was used to excuse brutality. What looked like solidarity on paper translated into checkpoints, patrols, and forced displacement on the ground. The same ethic that says, “We defend the people” too often read as, “We decide what happens to people.”So now consider the recent episode. A decision is made, not by the state, not after debate, not with any clear mandate, but by a single actor who holds enough muscle to make choices for everyone when their handler in Iran wants a better bargaining chip with the West. That actor opens a front. The consequences are immediate and national. Homes are destroyed. Lives are shredded. Borders shift. The economy, already reduced to a husk under Hezbollah’s hegemony, takes another massive blow. Civilians bear the largest cost. Lebanon, already hollowed by corruption and mismanagement, takes another gut punch while it was already down.And then the rhetoric flips. The sounds you hear change from orders to laments. Suddenly the same people who shut down debate call for national unity. They claim victimhood. They ask to be exalted and refuse any self reflection or criticism by supposed partners. They expect the country to put aside the logic of accountability and reach for a shared blanket called solidarity. They do this while the country is still paying for the chaos they created.There are several angles to unpack here, and none of them are flattering to the party asking for sympathy. First, there is the ethical problem. If you impose catastrophe on people who never agreed to it, you owe them more than rhetoric. You owe them restitution. You owe them explanation and a political process that makes future unilateral choices impossible. Asking for sympathy without offering reparations is a moral failure.Second, there is the political problem. Forgiveness without change is permission. If the state and society make a habit of absolving destructive unilateralism, then we fossilize the pattern. That’s what got us in the mess we’re currently in. The next time the calculus tips toward confrontation, the incentives are there. The apparatus that produced this war will be free to try again because the political cost is low and the social price is manageable for them. That is the opposite of deterrence.Third, there is the practical problem. Who carries the bill? The families who must move. The farmers who cannot get their crops to market. The small business that counted on a summer season and lost it. The country’s public finances, already fragile, will be called upon to rebuild roads, fix electricity, and support displaced people. The social contract is being taxed to pay for decisions not made collectively. That is not solidarity. It is socialization of a private militia’s failure.Now the group layers on performative grief. You see the speeches. You see the tents. You see appeals to identity and ancient wounds. There is a grammar to this performance. It translates failure into martyrdom, error into sacrifice. The old tactic works on audiences that lack the luxury of distance. When your neighbor is sleeping on a mattress in a hall because their house is gone, compassion is immediate and necessary. But compassion should not be confused with political amnesty.We have to be precise about what we ask of society. Compassion is an individual choice, private and immediate. Political responsibility is public and durable. If Lebanese society is to rebuild, it must do both things without confusing them. We must care for victims and we must demand changes to the structures that created the victims. We must rebuild neighborhoods and we must dismantle the conditions that allowed a single armed group to impose disaster on millions.There is a more uncomfortable point here that must be addressed. The party asking for sympathy is not a monolith of pure evil. It remains a social and political actor with clients, with municipal reach, with people who depended on it when the state was absent. That makes the problem harder. People will say, “But we cannot simply cut them off. Doing so risks civil conflict.” True. That is why blunt calls for eradication are naive. But the proper answer is not to accept unilateralism. The proper answer is to rebuild political institutions so that no group can choose war by itself, and so that the social dependencies that make people tolerate coercion are reduced.Policy must do the things politics cannot. The Lebanese state, and the international actors that care about this country, must knit together a set of guarantees. End the parallel command. Strengthen institutions. Offer economic alternatives where patronage once ruled. Protect free speech. Make political life livable without a Hezbollah car bomb exploding whenever their leader feels inconvenienced. That means the state must be capable of defending its citizens, not least from factions that claim to defend them as well as Israeli aggression.Meanwhile, the moral grammar of blame has to be clear. Accountability is not vengeance. Accountability is the mechanism by which societies learn what is permissible. Call it justice. Call it responsibility. Call it necessary pain. If you bomb a bridge and the people who used it lose their livelihoods, you should not be on your knees asking to be forgiven while the people who suffered fix the bridge out of their pockets, and you complain that your smuggling routes from Iran are being intercepted.The trick of asking for fear and for empathy at the same time can only work if we allow it to work. We have let it work for too long. The choice now is whether Lebanon will continue to absorb the private bets of armed actors or whether it will make a different bargain. The bargain we need is simple. You can be part of the political community. You can hold power. You cannot be both a state inside the state and a national savior. If you choose to act like an army without public authorization, you accept the costs along with the consequences, like an army that lost a war would.Hezbollah wants both fear and grace. That is a convenient posture for them and an unsustainable one for Lebanon. We can keep making their bill our bill. Or we can insist that those who decide for everyone else also carry the price. Sympathy does not have to be withheld from anybody, but forgiveness cannot be cheap. If we want resilience and a future for this country, the path is to care for victims, to insist on accountability, and to make sure that the people who decide wars do not get to decide the terms of the aftermath by fiat.And here is where many will jump in with the usual “but Israel!” deflection. Fine. Let’s actually look at Hezbollah’s track record there. The last two major wars were triggered by Nasrallah, acting on Iran’s timetable, not Lebanon’s. After 2006 he said, “if I had known, I wouldn’t have done it.” Well, this time he did know. He knew exactly what Israel would do, and he still went ahead. The militia he leads is no longer the disciplined force it once claimed to be. Years of fighting for Bashar al-Assad and participating in atrocities hollowed it out from the inside. That rot showed. They crumbled faster than the bargain-bin drones they bragged would “liberate Palestine.”So let’s be honest. Hezbollah’s only consistent talent is provoking Israeli brutality, not deterring it, and definitely not protecting Lebanon from it. You can see that in the surrender terms they accepted once it became obvious they had no way out. And now they are trying to wriggle out of those same commitments as Israel prepares another escalation, all because Hezbollah spent months re
When I sat down with Dean Fuleihan, the Lebanese American public servant whom Mayor elect Zohran Mamdani has chosen as his first Deputy Mayor, the conversation immediately felt personal. The first thing he did was thank me for pronouncing his last name the way it is said in Lebanon. He smiled and said, “You pronounced my name the way it is pronounced in Lebanon. It is Fuleihan.” It was a small moment, but one that set the tone for the rest of our talk. It reminded both of us how identity follows you quietly across continents.Dean grew up in Syracuse, surrounded by Lebanese students from the American University of Beirut, my alma mater. His memories of that time are full of political debate at the dinner table and an unshakable sense of community. “They were all over the political spectrum,” he recalled. “Even two people from the same religion could be completely opposed. But we would fight about politics and then have a beautiful meal together. Our cultural identity held us together.” For him, Lebanon was never distant. It shaped the way he saw the world, and it shaped the way he speaks about public service today.When I asked what message he would give young Arabs and Lebanese in America who want to serve but rarely see people like them in senior government roles, he pointed to the moment we are living in. “The Zohran Mamdani campaign personifies what is possible,” he said. He spoke with pride about the immigrant communities that saw themselves reflected in the campaign and the unprecedented support that poured in. It was clear that this victory meant something far deeper than electoral politics, helping him decide to join the administration of a 34 year old, at 74.Dean first met Zohran in the winter before the primary. The outcome was still uncertain, but their conversations were not about poll numbers. They were about governing and the responsibilities of public office. “He asked thoughtful questions and wanted to understand what he did not know,” Dean told me. “It was hard not to say I will help you in any way I can.” That relationship eventually led to Zohran asking him to serve as First Deputy Mayor, a role that carries tremendous operational and political responsibility in a city of more than eight and a half million people.The transition period has been intense. The city has more than three hundred thousand employees, and in reality closer to three hundred and seventy thousand when you include the health system and housing agencies. Dean described the work ahead as both enormous and urgent, and he insisted that the movement that helped elect Zohran must remain engaged.“The movement did not stop on Election Day. We need the same excitement and energy,” he said.They have already received fifty thousand résumés from New Yorkers who want to serve.Throughout the interview, Dean returned again and again to the question of affordability. It is the heart of the agenda, and also the measure by which this administration wants to be judged. I asked him what he hopes a New Yorker will say one year from now after watching this conversation again. He answered simply. “That something has changed in a practical way. That their life feels more affordable. That they feel hope.” He spoke about childcare, housing, free buses, and a tax system that treats people fairly. These are the issues he believes can transform daily life in the city.There are many people who say these promises cannot be fulfilled. Holidays are approaching and families will sit around tables where political debates are as unavoidable as the food. Dean had a message for the skeptics. “People say these things cannot be done. And then three months later, they are done.” He pointed to the example of universal pre kindergarten, which was once considered impossible but became reality because government chose to act. “What part of this agenda is wrong,” he asked.“Childcare. Housing. Free buses. Equity in taxation. The argument is always that you cannot afford it. We will show that you can.”And because we are Lebanese, food naturally became part of the conversation. Fresh bread, hummus, and tabbouleh arrived at the table. Dean laughed when I told him I learned to make kibbeh the way my town in Zgharta prepares it. He responded with pride and familiarity. “You have to make that for me. And I make tabbouleh every week,” he said. It was a small detail that I felt revealed a lot about him.As the interview came to a close, Dean reflected on service with a sense of responsibility that felt genuine.“These jobs are a privilege,” he said. “Our obligation is to deliver hope and make this city affordable so people can stay.”It was a fitting final line. It captured the connection between heritage, community, and the work of making government serve ordinary people, instead of the wealthiest few.With New York’s political landscape reshaping, Dean Fuleihan offers a clear view of the work ahead. And watch the full conversation below.If you enjoyed this piece, consider subscribing or leaving a comment. It helps sustain independent journalism and keeps these conversations going. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
I was asked recently what my politics are, and it unexpectedly made me pause.Like many of you, I assume my beliefs, hopes, and dreams are second nature. No need to restate them. No need to explain. It is obvious to my community what my politics are, right?But if I am honest, the journey that brought me here was messy, full of contradictions, heartbreak, and the occasional misplaced hope.Six years after the October 17 Revolution changed our lives forever, I have spent enough time reading, reflecting, and talking with people, both those who lived the Thawra and those who watched from afar, to start seeing our uprising with fresh eyes.One book, recommended by a friend, hit me like a ton of bricks: Vincent Bevins’ If We Burn: The Mass Protest Decade and the Missing Revolution.The book and the déjà vuIn Bevins’s telling, the 2010s were a decade of spectacular uprisings, from Cairo to Santiago to Hong Kong, that lit up the world and then fizzled out. His argument is brutally simple: movements that reject structure, leadership, and long-term strategy often win the streets but lose everything else.Sound familiar?I was disappointed that Lebanon’s uprising did not make it into the book, but I understood. Bevins’s expertise was Brazil and South America. Still, his pages felt like déjà vu. He was describing us: the speed of our mobilization, the brilliance of our improvisation, the moral energy that felt unstoppable.Back then, we celebrated being leaderless and horizontal. We wore it like armor. And honestly, in a country where one wrong speech can get you assassinated, just ask Lokman Slim or Mohamad Chatah, that armor made sense.But leadership is not just about one person standing in front of a crowd. It is about structure, about how people coordinate, make decisions, and protect themselves from chaos or co-option. That is the part we never built.1. Leaderless meant powerlessWe said we did not need leaders because everyone was the leader. That worked for the first few weeks. It made us uncrackable, unbribable, beautiful in our defiance. But when the tear gas cleared, there was no one with the mandate or mechanism to translate that energy into power.That is what Bevins calls “the missing revolution.”And it is exactly where Zohran Mamdani got it right.Mamdani’s campaign in New York was just as grassroots and just as viral as we were: TikToks, Reels, rallies, you name it. But underneath the spectacle was structure, data teams, neighborhood captains, volunteer coordinators.He showed that horizontal does not have to mean chaotic. You can keep power distributed while still being organized. We had fire. He had a furnace.2. We knew what we hated, not what we wantedWe were crystal clear about what we stood against: corruption, sectarianism, theft. But if you had asked ten of us what we wanted instead, you would have gotten eleven answers.Bevins calls that the “anti-power trap,” defining yourself by opposition instead of creation.Mamdani avoided that trap. He did not just say the system is broken. He ran on what to build: rent relief, public housing, climate justice, accountability. Every viral moment pointed to a policy, not just a posture.That is what we were missing. We had rage, but no roadmaps.3. The digital high and the organizational lowInstagram “Stories” had just launched, and my feed from the streets of Beirut became a sort of national bulletin board. The diaspora would tag me, I would repost, people would find each other through my stories, communities forming in real time. It was the most beautiful side of being horizontal, spontaneous connection, unfiltered solidarity.But there was a darker side. We mistook connection for coordination. The same digital platforms that made us powerful also made us scatter. Every rumor, every ego, every live stream pulled us in new directions.Zohran’s campaign went viral too, but his virality was a gateway, not a distraction. Every meme led to a meeting. Every post led to a signup sheet. That is the difference between a protest and a program.We performed revolution. He prepared to govern.4. The void always fills itselfWhen we left Martyrs’ Square, others filled the vacuum: the same warlords, the same clientelist networks, the same sectarian narratives. Power abhors a vacuum, and ours was wide open.Mamdani never left a vacuum. Every rally ended with a next step: phone banking, policy drafting, or block meetings. Every volunteer had a role. When opportunity came, they were ready to take it.We were not.We thought refusing to play their game would change the rules. It did not. It just meant they kept winning by default.5. Maybe failure is not the endBevins ends on a note of sober optimism: failure is not final, it is fertilizer. Every protest, even the ones that collapse, leaves behind people who have seen what power really looks like.Zohran’s victory did not come out of nowhere. It came from years of smaller losses, failed campaigns, half-empty meetings, quiet learning. The difference is that when the political window finally opened, he already had the machine ready to move.We had our window in 2019. We just did not have the machinery.The next time it opens, and it will, we cannot make the same mistake.So what now?If we burn again, and we might, we cannot just rely on rage and spontaneity.We need structure. We need strategy. We need the boring stuff: lists, spreadsheets, bylaws, budgets.Zohran’s story is not about America or Lebanon. It is about what happens when movements prepare for power before they get it. He shows that virality and discipline can coexist, that charisma means nothing without a calendar, and that democracy, at its best, is built like a campaign office, not a stage.And look, I know Lebanon is not New York City.Our obstacles are heavier, our risks deadlier, our rulers crueler. But it is also true that Lebanon is smaller. Our streets are denser, our networks tighter, and we do not need millions of dollars to get our message across.In a time when we are sandwiched between Iran and Israel’s geopolitical theater, we might not control the regional game, but we can control how we live inside it. We can organize locally, push for transparency, demand competence, and carve out small islands of sanity amid the chaos.Because improving our daily lives is political resistance.The street gives you a spark.Only organization gives you a future. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
I remember the day like it was yesterday. I had landed in New York City’s JFK just a few months before, after being forced to leave Lebanon after four illegal detentions, multiple assaults in the streets of Beirut and two outstanding military court summons. Israeli settlers were stealing Palestinian homes, and a bunch of people in Brooklyn decided to meet up near Grand Army Plaza to show solidarity with Palestinians and voice their disapproval at the state’s senators shamelessly funding and supporting ethnic cleansing.Back then, wasn’t like now. Being at those protests was risky. The Israeli chokehold on free speech in the US was still ironclad. You could be punished for being against indigenous people being kicked out of their grandparents’ home so a “Jacob” from Williamsburg could move in, and instead of paying taxes here, have our taxes bankroll his life built on the ruins of Palestinians. After two years of genocide still being committed by Israel in Gaza, most Americans now see the Israeli occupation for what it is. And that brings me to the reason of this post: Zohran Mamdani’s victory despite zionist billionaires throwing tens of millions of dollars to try to smear him as an antisemite for being for equal human rights for all.That day, Zohran spoke at that protest. I took a video that day of part of his address, as he had particularly captivated me. He had just been elected as a NY State Assemblyman for Queens and parts of Brooklyn. He left an impression. This is the video I took:Even back then, Zohran Mamdani always reminded people that antisemitism was a scourge that had no place in the movement for Palestinian liberation. If anything, Zohran is consistent, and it’s one of the many things I respect and admire about him. Since that day, we would stay in touch and Instagram via DMs, and I constantly told him he should run for mayor. In October, he replied “loading” and I flipped. It was his time. It was our time. Now, a year later, I woke up in Sunnyside in Queens, and ran to get the NY Post with its hilariously offensive cover announcing his win.In today’s podcast, I speak with my friend Russ Finkelstein, who was the person I went to that protest to with in 2021. After all, I’ve spent countless hours talking politics with him, arguing even, but after we spent weeks huffing and puffing up flights of stairs to knock on doors for Zohran, along with 999,998 other New Yorkers, there’s no one I’d rather unpack what this means, what we can learn and where we’re headed with a New York City with a leftist mayor, a progressive that refuses to throw immigrants, trans people, queer folks and women under the bus while trying to become Diet Republicans like so many racist, octogenarian Democratic leaders who not only refused to support their party’s nominee, but conspired against him in things that were reminiscent of the dark times before the US invaded Iraq, the mass hysteria and hatred towards Muslim and brown people that caused so many deaths in so many places around the world.Zohran, make us proud! And we are all supporting your administration. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
This is my endorsement for the Beirut Madinati coalition running in the 2025 Beirut Municipality elections this Sunday, May 18.Let me take you back to 2016. That was long before the Thawra and probably the first time many of you heard of me or the work I do. It was during the garbage crisis, when Lebanon became a global punchline. Rivers of trash flowed through our streets, forests, and actual rivers. The world saw it. We lived it.Out of that mess came Beirut Madinati. A group of young, progressive, non-sectarian Lebanese who refused to play the March 14 versus March 8 game. A game that served one purpose only: to distract from the fact that Hezbollah had taken full control of the state, while the rest of the sectarian parties lined up under its umbrella to loot the country and our bank accounts.Beirut Madinati shook things up. So much that all the traditional parties panicked. Even as Hezbollah was still busy assassinating some of their so-called rivals, all these parties magically found unity. They pulled together one sectarian, xenophobic, completely unqualified list and sold it to Beirut. The same list that left the people of Beirut to fend themselves after Hezbollah’s explosives stored at the Beirut Port decimated Beirut, with the municipality busy getting salaries for not doing anything.Here’s what they won’t say out loud: we got more votes than any single one of those parties. But because of our Syrian-occupation days, winner-takes-all municipal law, they managed to scrape through. They had to fuse into some Frankenstein political list just to block a group of independents who had nothing but ideas, transparency, and actual plans.Imagine being that scared of change. Now, imagine even after Hezbollah’s been neutralized, the sectarian parties salivating that they don’t need to share with them anymore, went back to the 2016 Power Rangers villain assembly, and joined them in one list, backed by the remnants of the Hezb and Assad regime and their cronies.A lot’s changed since 2016, and the same tired tricks shouldn’t work anymore. If you’re a Beirut voter, you already know what to do this Sunday. If you live in Beirut but can’t vote, show up and help out by volunteering on the ground. Make sure the sectarian list of has-beens and clueless puppets doesn’t get away with cheating or scamming voters. And if you’re in the diaspora and believe in what Beirut Madinati stands for, chip in and help fund the campaign. Every bit counts.The other lists have money, corrupt sectarian “media” like Corrupt Banker MTV and Hezbollah’s favorite toilet paper, Al Akhbar. We’ve just got each other. And honestly, that’s more than enough. We already beat their guy, Makhzoumi, a few months ago, despite the full-force lies and disinformation campaign from the Hezb-MTV alliance. We can do it again. We will do it again. Till we take Lebanon back from the thieves and war lords hiding behind hired pens and washed-up TV personalities. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
The saddest thing about the failed smear campaign against change MPs and independent media outlets like Megaphone and Daraj is how lazy it was. For the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to wrap my head around why the elites who enriched themselves before the Thawra chose to just copy-paste a right-wing conspiracy theory from the 2010s about George Soros. Then, it finally made sense, and in today’s episode, I’ll break it down with you.The Bankerjiyyeh’s Mindset Post-HezbollahThere’s one concept (I know how much Lebanese love this word) that is very apt to start things off with: the Mafia-Militia analogy. Its premise is that Lebanon, in the past few decades, has been ruled by a coalition between Hezbollah (the militia) and the Mafia (the corrupt politicians, bankers, and warlords), united by their hatred of anything that could threaten their ill-gotten gains and their domination of the Lebanese population they’ve been robbing for generations.Nasrallah’s last misguided intervention, dragging Lebanon into a full-on war with Israel that Hezbollah was hopelessly ill-prepared and ill-equipped for, neutralized the Militia part.The one thing I’d say here is that the militia thought it was an equal partner in the self-proclaimed “Axis of Resistance.” Meaning, it was one leg of a four-legged chair with the Iranian regime, the now-fallen Assad regime, and groups like the Houthis and Hamas. The October 8, 2023 war Nasrallah launched led to the painful realization by Hezbollah that they weren’t actually partners, but simply bodyguards. They were there to take a bullet for Khamenei, but the Islamic Revolution of Iran wasn’t coming to save them when they got themselves in trouble.It’s a difficult realization, tough to swallow, even though the rest of us could obviously tell. Now Hezbollah knows they weren’t really a partner. With Assad gone, Iran sitting with the US in Oman, and their entire Captagon empire crumbling along with their ability to smuggle Lebanese subsidized goods to fund their war machine in Syria, even their black-market illegal bank Qard El Hassan, are all gone now. Not even laundered Iranian cash via airplane is coming in anymore.Now, just like Iran’s regime turned out to be a fickle partner, so did the local Mafia in Lebanon. They couldn’t care less about Hezbollah’s decimation. All they saw was that they no longer needed to share the spoils with the subterranean Nasrallah. They no longer had to abide by the unspoken (but often spoken) omerta they had with Hezbollah.So the only obstacle left for the Mafia keeping their ill-gotten gains was a handful of our brave MPs and media outlets who don’t leave every interview with Mafia people carrying a wad of cash as a “tip.” The same group of people that pushed out Hezbollah’s PM choices and rustled up a loose coalition to get Lebanon Nawaf Salam as prime minister. That’s cause people like that, will not let the elites trying to keep their spoils and make us, the taxpayers, bail out the destruction they wrought while they remain untouched. Please.But why the Soros conspiracy?To understand this odd choice of smear, we need to understand why the reforms are actually happening. It’s because the Deputy United States Special Envoy to the Middle East, Morgan Ortagus, flies in whenever one of the Mafia tries to derail the reforms and gives them a little scolding. Like good little boys, they go down to Parliament and vote for reforms, with some extra protections too, thanks to our MPs’ coordinated pressure.It’s because, as in a recent interview I had about the banking secrecy amendment laws passed last week with Dr. Moe Farida, “ma byemsho gheir bel sermeyyeh.”But why does the US administration care about corruption in Lebanon so much? Why haven’t the Mafia been able to wiggle out of meaningful reform like they always did every single time Lebanon got money from foreign powers to keep the country going, while the Gebrans and Nabihs and Saads of the country milked it dry?The simple answer is Hezbollah finances. Hezbollah, like any terrorist group, cannot have bank accounts without allies like Riad Salameh in power, who helped them steal millions of our deposits via “Sayrafa” and by smuggling subsidized goods to fund their operations in Syria. Remember when some banks helped uncover Hezbollah money laundering, and Hezbollah blew up explosives in front of cooperating bank HQs?Cash Economy = Hezbollah Coming BackThe current, basically cash-only economy, means it’s just a matter of time before the group starts to replenish its ill-gotten funds to oppress Lebanese people first, and second, to put on a show every now and then by firing a few Soviet-era rockets and Temu-bought drones to maintain the lie to their shrinking base that they are actually “resisting” occupation.Understanding that the current situation of zero fiscal policy and an economy in the complete darkness of cash transactions means Hezbollah might be able to sustain itself , if not as the multinational private mercenary force it was for the past two decades, at least as an armed group able to destabilize and derail any meaningful change in Lebanon for the better.Now we get to why Soros. It’s not like he’s a household name in Lebanon, and in a country where most organizations, government agencies, and even media outlets need foreign donations and investments to stay afloat, it’s no surprise that even MTV, the spearhead of this lazy Mafia-bankerjiyyeh smear, also received a ton of money from Soros-funded initiatives.And unlike MTV and the Mafia mouthpieces, I brought receipts, instead of only insults and rants like toddlers in Assad’s nursery.The Lebanon Media Recovery Fund (2020–22) was a brilliant project to help support Lebanese media after the collapse and to support proper investigative journalism in Lebanon. A democracy without a free press that holds those in power accountable, at least in the court of public opinion, can never thrive. The total fund was USD 764,627 and wrapped up in 2022.The core funders were:The idea was that if TV stations were rewarded for doing good investigations, instead of the Thursday glazing sessions the Ghanem Brothers put on every week for whoever paid them the most, they might actually shift to real journalism. That means, instead of Marcel hosting wanted fugitives from the law like Ali Hassan Khalil because he might get a fancy watch out of it, they could, with some help and support, maybe do actual journalism for once. After all, why would anyone risk angering the Ghada Aoun-types of Mafia-Militia corrupt judges (thank goodness she’s gone) when they can easily fund their operations from the month before any election, when the Mafia-Militia shower TV stations with patronage money? I think that’s why Marcel is so butt-hurt he hosted them after their historic victory: they didn’t pay him to go on, like the rest normally do.Bki, bterte7. Say hi to your sugar daddy Riad Salameh next time you visit him in his jail cell.MTV, LBCI, and Al Jadeed were part of Pillar 5:This was the amount of money and support they were given:Now that that’s out of the way, and we’ve proven that Soros money made its way to MTV too, why would they do such a lazy, sloppy job when the one accusation they were hurling was one they were part of too? And it was never really an accusation in the first place, since anyone can submit a grant proposal and get one, all of this is publicly available information, not some scandalous thing MTV “uncovered.”That’s because, like we already discussed, it’s US pressure forcing reform now. And like we all know, being able to lobby the US for changes in policy is crucial. Given no one would believe freshly-minted MPs and news organizations caused the collapse, and not not the Patek Philippe-clad Mafia-Militia who were in power for decades, they needed to frame it as some ideological struggle between “globalists” and “extreme left” versus right-wing conservatives.This was such a sloppy attempt to dupe the Trump administration into thinking that the corrupt bankers are the good guys, so that the administration stops putting pressure to reform Lebanon. MTV was trying to convince the administration in DC that reforms are actually helping some global conspiracy by people like Soros, instead of the reality: not implementing reforms is just protecting the felony crimes by the Mafia and Militia that robbed us all of our bank deposits and savings.Luckily, the Trump administration didn’t fall for this lazy, badly put-together fantasy, and the banking secrecy amendment law passed. They saw through the lies and understood that the Mafia-Militia didn’t suddenly become right-wing darlings, they just don’t want to give back the money they stole and thought they could outsmart US officials. A true “hail mary” pass if I’ve ever seen one, for those that benefited from the ponzi scheme at our expense. Thankfully, the US administration saw through the lies and is focused on making sure Hezbollah doesn’t engratiate itself as easily this time, instead of making sure a handful of bankers and politicians don’t give up the money they stole, or at the very least, stop stealing more.This time the law passed without the loopholes that the Bankerjiyyeh put in every single previous attempt to fool the IMF, the US administration, and any other possible funders to get us out of the mess the Mafia and Militia created, without the Mafia and Militia ever suffering consequences for their crimes, but handing the bag to us, the taxpayers, instead.What’s Next?Lebanon has two months to decide how to distribute the losses incurred thanks to the ponzi scheme of the century pulled off by Riad Salameh at the behest of the Mafia and Militia.The best way to do it, in my humble opinion, is to give back all the small depositors' money. It’s not even 20% of the total amount that was stolen and squandered according to the Finance Ministry (84% of depositors have less than USD 100,000 in the bank, which adds up to about $20
I will be diving deeper into the smear campaigns and why they failed so spectacularly on Monday’s episode!In the meantime, Dr Mohamad Farida, from the Depositors Union, took a break from advocating for the amendment in ongoing parliamentary sessions, to give us all an update. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
This has been my longest running topic on this blog. The OG readers will remember. I started in 2011, and a lot of us feel it is gonna happen, it’s just a matter of time. We’ve done the hard part. The taboo is gone. Public opinion has shifted. Cannabis is no longer a dirty word in Lebanon — it’s a reality. People talk about it openly, joke about it online, and most importantly, no one’s pretending it isn’t being grown, sold, and used across the country.What we haven’t done — and what we must do now — is ratify that cultural shift into real, urgent policy.Because while we keep dragging our feet, young people are still getting arrested for minor possession. Farmers are still forced to operate in the shadows, paying off militias and middlemen instead of taxes. And the revenue? It’s not going to schools or hospitals. It’s going to Hezbollah. It’s going to cartels like Nouh Zaiiter’s. It’s funding weapons and conflict — in Lebanon, in Syria, and beyond.We have a functioning government now. A cabinet. An executive branch. Elections coming up. There are no more excuses.Why legalize cannabis cultivation and use right now? Four reasons:* Economic urgency.Lebanon is broke. Legalizing cannabis and taxing it properly could generate millions in new revenue. We need every lira we can get — not just from international aid, but from sustainable, homegrown industries.* Public safety and sovereignty.Keeping cannabis illegal only benefits armed groups and criminal networks. Legalization takes power away from Hezbollah-linked cartels and puts it back in the hands of the state. It also frees up law enforcement to focus on actual threats, not small-time possession cases.* Justice and accountability.Our prisons are overcrowded with people whose only crime was smoking or carrying weed. Decriminalization is a first step toward fixing a system that punishes the poor and protects the powerful. Legalization gives us a framework to make that shift permanent.* A ticking clock.The people currently profiting from the illegal trade will not give up quietly. They are already organizing, lobbying behind the scenes, and preparing to either block reform or co-opt it for their own gain. If we don’t act fast, we’ll be stuck with a fake legalization scheme that rewards the same actors we’re trying to disempower.I made this video on my iPad a few years ago, it still stands:The priority is clear: decriminalize cannabis immediately.This isn’t radical. It’s common sense. No one should be thrown in jail, extorted, or dragged through court over a joint. Decriminalization is the bare minimum — and it's long overdue.Then, we need a real plan to regulate cultivation — one that works for the people, not just the powerful.That means:* Creating a transparent and accessible licensing process for current cannabis farmers — especially those in Bekaa and other marginalized areas — so they can transition from the black market to the legal economy without fear or bribery.* Taxing the industry properly and using that revenue to invest in public services like healthcare, education, and infrastructure.* Making sure the profits stay in the communities that grow the plant, instead of being siphoned off by armed groups or politically connected cartels.Lebanon’s cannabis economy already exists. It's just illegal, dangerous, and captured by the wrong people. We can either keep pretending that’s not the case, or we can finally build a system that turns a black-market reality into a legal, regulated, and fair industry.The culture has changed. Now the law needs to catch up.Let’s get it done — before the same people who kept us in the dark for decades find a way to profit off the light.I want to see ministers in the new cabinet take the initiative, and if they don’t, let’s see it in electoral platforms for the upcoming elections. This might be the best chance we get in a long time, let’s not waste it.Gino's Blog is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
Lebanon’s greatest weakness has always been our attachment to problematic leaders who promise much but deliver chaos, sectarian division, and stagnation. These leaders—each idolized by some but despised by many—reflect our vulnerability to charismatic figures who exploit our fears and insecurities.Today, I've simplified Lebanon's recent history into the struggle between its minorities, highlighting three figures who—despite arising from different circumstances—share similar flaws. Bashir Gemayel, Rafik Hariri, and Hassan Nasrallah all represent Lebanon’s chronic issue: a centralized government continually gutted or exploited by competing sects once they seize power. Regardless of their supporters’ denials, each leader’s project ultimately failed, compounding our crises as the dominating politicians frrom the Maronites, Sunnis, and Shias successively repeated the same mistakes. The tragedy is our failure to learn from this cycle, even now, as we aim to shape a better future.Take Bashir Gemayel. Admired by some as a charismatic protector of Christian identity of Lebanon, his rise was driven by sectarian violence and polarization. He was beloved by those who saw strength in his militancy, yet deeply resented by others who experienced his politics as oppressive and divisive. His assassination in 1982 mythologized him, freezing him as a "what could have been," distracting generations of his supporters from addressing the civil war’s root causes—sectarianism, violence, and weak institutions. His legacy persists, not through positive reforms or lasting peace, but through the continued glorification of militancy and division. Those who despise him often view him as the singular embodiment of evil, interpreting every historical event exclusively through opposition to him. This narrow lens neglects broader commonalities and shared goals that could potentially unify diverse Lebanese communities and facilitate reconciliation.Rafik Hariri, similarly, had genuine admirers who credited him with reconstructing Beirut, yet for many, he represented a problematic blend of wealth, political patronage, and unsustainable economic policies. His era saw rapid urban transformation but at a massive cost: ballooning debt, systemic corruption, and economic disparity. His assassination plunged Lebanon into further turmoil, entrenching political polarization rather than sparking national unity or genuine reform. His supporters often bowed down to Hezbollah assassinations, and his surviving son was a business partner in his father’s convicted killers, because it made him money at our expense. Hariri’s death became another catalyst for sectarian tension, further proof of our unhealthy reliance on messianic leadership. Before his assassination, Hariri consistently collaborated closely with Hezbollah and the Assad regime, playing a pivotal role in maintaining the silence and complicity—the omerta—that shielded both groups from accountability. That’s until the Assad regime and Hezbollah wanted more, and eliminated him with dozens of others in 2005. His relationships helped sustain a political arrangement that benefited these factions, further entrenching Lebanon in a cycle of corruption, instability, and compromised sovereignty.Then comes Hassan Nasrallah, revered by his misguidd supporters as a resistance icon defying global powers. Yet under his leadership, Hezbollah has significantly harmed Lebanon—engaging in destructive wars, entrenching sectarian divisions, obstructing justice, and holding the entire country hostage to Iranian regional ambitions. The harsh reality is that Nasrallah’s appeal to some feeds off fear, instability, and an illusion of power and dignity rather than tangible progress. Hezbollah’s role in regional conflicts, particularly its brutal involvement in Syria, has exacerbated Lebanon’s economic and political crises, isolating the nation internationally and devastating its internal cohesion. And just like Bashir and Hariri, Nasrallah's ideas were inherently flawed and unsustainable, rooted in exploitation of unique circumstances rather than long-term vision for the common good. It remains to be seen whether his supporters will repeat the errors made by followers of Bashir and Hariri—fixating on what they consider martyrdom, becoming trapped in nostalgia, or futilely attempting to recreate or force moments when their messianic figure seized opportunities that have long since vanished.Instead, Lebanon must move beyond these outdated paradigms and confront the reality that lasting solutions come not from charismatic leaders, but from accountable institutions and collective efforts.Enough StrongmenThis reliance on charismatic but fundamentally flawed leaders is Lebanon’s chronic weakness. Our political culture repeatedly allows sectarian strongmen to dominate, promising protection but delivering turmoil. They manipulate identity politics, fostering an environment of perpetual anxiety and mistrust, ensuring their grip on power at the expense of national unity and development.The Free Patriotic Movement's initial reform-driven vision in 2005 quickly devolved into Gebran Bassil’s manipulation of "Christian rights" rhetoric to shield his corruption and justify failed policies across multiple ministries. His appointment to these critical roles, driven more by familial ties—being Michel Aoun's son-in-law—than merit or suitability, underscores the entrenched nepotism and patronage within Lebanese politics. As long as his supporters thought that the illegal activities benefited them, it was fine by them, and that’s the real problem. Look where it’s left the country, and their party today.The consequences have been devastatingly clear—projects like the failed Mseilha Dam, which stands as a costly monument to incompetence, or the tens of billions squandered on renting power-ships instead of investing sustainably in building effective power plants. These examples illustrate not just policy failures, but systemic corruption and disregard for public welfare embedded deeply within Lebanon's governance structure.What can we do?What can we do differently? We must reject the allure of charismatic, sectarian strongmen and invest in transparent, accountable institutions. Instead of idolizing past leaders, Lebanon needs decentralized governance, robust public services free from political interference, and independent institutions that prioritize citizen welfare.And when I say this, I’m not just talking about the 2019 'killon ya3ne killon' class—I also mean our freshly-minted, hard-fought leaders like Joseph Aoun and Nawaf Salam. At times, it worries me how easily we slip into idolizing them, mimicking the very partisan loyalty we reject when it's directed at sectarian warlords. We shouldn’t fall into that trap. If anything, we must hold them even more accountable. After all, we expect significantly more from them than we ever would from Hezbollah MPs, Aounist ministers, or Hariri-era economic advisors. Every step these leaders take should be closely watched, openly discussed, and constructively critiqued—and when they miss the mark, we must let them know clearly.Admittedly, this isn't easy. We exist in a polarized landscape, caught between Hezbollah-affiliated mouthpieces like Al Akhbar and propagandists like Ali Mortada on one side, and the bankers’ clan spokespeople, such as the Ghanem brothers, with their relentless astroturf campaigns targeting independent platforms like Megaphone, Daraj, and advocacy groups like Kulluna Irada, on the other. Any dissent or criticism often leads to being falsely labeled as either Hezbollah apologists or banker-funded operatives, smeared by platforms such as MTV’s Sar El Wa2et or similar blatantly pro-banker, anti-depositor voices.The way to sidestep this harmful binary is by recognizing that not every disagreement signals an existential crisis. It's okay—even necessary—to openly critique decisions made by Joseph or Nawaf without immediately descending into despair or cynicism, which ultimately harms only ourselves and Lebanon’s future. We need to acknowledge that the coalition supporting these leaders is diverse, frequently disagreeing on critical issues. Ultimatums and inflexible stances will not move us forward. We’re all aboard the same ship, tasked with guiding it toward our collective vision. If the rudder shifts slightly or the wind blows in another direction, that doesn’t mean we can't course-correct—not just once, but continually, time after time.Now that we’ve talked abstract big picture, let’s go into specifics we could do right now. One immediate step could be digitizing government services, reducing corruption and breaking patronage networks. When I went to Georgia a few times (the country), I thought I saw them successfully implement such reforms, significantly cutting corruption and improving everyday life by removing unnecessary bureaucracy and wasta. We could adopt a similar model. Digitization can streamline administrative processes, empower citizens, and reduce reliance on local political patrons, fundamentally altering the power dynamics that sustain corruption and clientelism.Other than that, establishing an independent judiciary untouched by political interference is an absolute necessity. Holding leaders accountable through impartial courts would dismantle entrenched corruption and restore public trust, from August 4 to the Najib Mikati loans that Ghada Aoun always pretended to prosecute. Legal reforms should include transparent judicial appointments, protections for judges from political influence, and clear mechanisms to prosecute high-level corruption. Only judicial independence like that can help us rebuild confidence in governance and foster true accountability, for the first time ever.Strong civil society initiatives and grassroots campaigns and uprisings that promote non-sectarian values have been gradually reshaping societal expectations and I hope it's reduced Lebanon's vulne
A conversation with Makram Rabah, Assistant Professor of History at the American University of Beirut.In this episode, I sit down with historian and AUB professor Makram Rabah to discuss the slow, generational change unfolding in Lebanon. We break down the myths of instant transformation, the role of elections, the military tribunal system, and Hezbollah’s shifting influence.For the full episode and more insights, head to ginoraidy.substack.com.Follow him:https://x.com/makramrabah/https://www.instagram.com/makramrabah/ Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
Sometimes, it feels like nothing happens for a very long time. But Lebanon is not in one of those times. Right now, events are unfolding so quickly, and the sheer volume of noise from all sides them makes it easy to miss the massive shift in the balance of power that’s taking place beneath the surface, if one wasn’t paying close attention.The recent developments are not just the usual dishonest political maneuvering; they carry significant weight, even if they’re not being framed as that explicitly. The news that Lebanese authorities thwarted an attempt by the Iranian regime to smuggle $2.5 million in cash via Turkey at Beirut International Airport last week is just the latest in a series of truly historic moments that aren’t being processed with the gravity they deserve. This isn’t an isolated incident but part of a larger pattern that signals fundamental changes in Hezbollah’s position within Lebanon and beyond. Let’s discuss.Read more on ginoraidy.substack.com Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
Power in Lebanon isn’t about track records, courageous leadership, or bold vision. It’s about leverage—the ability to obstruct, disrupt, or threaten effectively. If you can halt parliamentary sessions, shut down the airport, or flood the streets with armed supporters, you hold power. This dangerous metric rewards destruction over construction and has kept Lebanon in a perpetual state of crisis.As discussions about reconstruction take center stage, it’s crucial to examine this entrenched culture—not just in Lebanon but across the region. This is why the moment following our new government’s vote of confidence in parliament feels so significant. For the first time, obstruction seems nearly impossible, opening a rare opportunity to build and move forward rather than clinging stubbornly to failed tactics of the past.This isn’t just a Lebanese phenomenon—many fragile states and conflict-prone societies operate on similar rules. But in Lebanon, this logic has been deeply entrenched in the political, economic, and even social fabric of the country. The ability to wield disruption as a weapon has been systematized, legitimized, and even romanticized. Worse yet, it has made some completely live in denial, insisting they were victorious even after signing a surrender.The Power to Break, Not BuildAt the heart of this issue is a political class that has always seen governance as a zero-sum game. The goal isn’t to create a better system but to secure enough leverage to either force others into concessions or prevent them from advancing without consent. Hezbollah exemplifies this strategy perfectly. It has operated outside the state while holding veto power over its decisions, maintaining an armed force beyond the reach of Lebanon’s legal and political institutions. But that reality is fading, if not entirely gone. Even Naim Qassem, in a speech during Hassan Nasrallah’s funeral, admitted as much.When Michel Aoun’s bloc boycotted parliamentary sessions for two years to prevent a president from being elected, they were ultimately rewarded with the presidency. Even now, after 15 years in power with nothing to show for it, his son-in-law’s only real political agenda revolves around securing the “Christian share” of seats. When Hezbollah and its allies paralyzed government functions in 2011 by walking out, they successfully collapsed the cabinet.Even during the October 17 uprising, protesters realized that blocking roads and disrupting daily life were far more effective at pressuring the government than any traditional form of political participation—because those channels had already been rendered useless. The system is structured so that disruption becomes the only viable tool for change—an indictment of the system itself.A System Built for Permanent StalemateThe Lebanese system rewards veto power and obstruction, creating a political culture where compromise is seen as weakness. Other countries have opposition parties that challenge those in power through policy debates or electoral strategies. In Lebanon, opposition is expressed through threats: If you don’t give me what I want, I will shut everything down.This extends beyond politics into business and daily life. Economic monopolies are protected not by market forces but by the implicit threat of chaos if they are challenged. Entire industries operate on wasta, the unspoken understanding that power comes from being able to manipulate and exploit the system, not from contributing to it.The result is a country perpetually frozen, unable to move forward because every faction—political or otherwise—holds the power to bring everything to a halt but has no incentive to build something sustainable. After all, why put in the work when your entire platform is based on “the others are stealing, so we must take our share too”? And sadly, partisans buy into it. The focus is always on how to weaken the perceived existential enemy, never on how to strengthen ourselves to better withstand future crises.Hezbollah proudly flaunted its rockets but had no plan for the hundreds of thousands of Lebanese who would be displaced as a result. It was left to ordinary people—many of whom had suffered under Hezbollah’s rule—to take in the internally displaced, left stranded by Nasrallah’s unilateral decision to launch an all-out war against Israel.This culture of disruption as power extends beyond Lebanon. Take the Houthis, for example. Their entire identity revolves around their ability to cause chaos—whether it’s launching missiles at Saudi Arabia and the UAE or, more recently, reveling in their ability to disrupt maritime traffic in the Red Sea. They frame these acts as victories, yet they offer no real vision for governance, no strategy for economic development, and no plan to improve the lives of Yemenis. Their only currency is disruption—one that punishes not just their adversaries but the very Arab countries they claim to defend.And then there’s the Iranian regime, the patron of this entire ecosystem of destruction. Tehran loves to promise post-war reconstruction aid for Lebanon, Syria, and even Gaza, yet it can’t even keep the lights on at home. But when it comes to weapons? The regime always seems to find the money. While Iranian citizens struggle under economic collapse, their government spared no expense to prop up Bashar al-Assad’s slaughterhouses and ensure Hezbollah’s grip on Lebanon and Syria remained well-stocked. Before it all crumbled under the weight of its own corruption and decay, Hezbollah once fashioned itself as a "resistance movement." Today, it has fully morphed into a mercenary force, serving the highest bidder in whatever conflict Tehran deems beneficial for the negotiations it strives for with the West.The parallels are clear: whether it’s Hezbollah, the Houthis, or the Iranian regime itself, power is defined not by the ability to build, but by the capacity to destroy. And as long as this remains the measure of influence in the region, real progress will remain just out of reach.Breaking the CycleLebanon’s real crisis is not just economic or political—it is cultural. The idea that power is measured by one’s ability to obstruct rather than create has shaped the country’s trajectory for decades. And while Hezbollah’s role in this dynamic is undeniable, so is the complicity of every major political faction that has operated within the same logic. On brinksmanship, on freezing the status quo, even if it meant working with Riad Salameh to literally steal our deposits and savings from our bank accounts.Breaking this cycle requires a fundamental shift in how power is conceptualized. It requires a move away from transactional politics where concessions are only made under duress. It means abandoning the glorification of "strong leaders" who prove their strength by their ability to disrupt and threaten. It means rejecting the idea that chaos is the only available currency in Lebanese politics.The challenge is immense because the entire system—from its sectarian structures to its patronage networks—thrives on maintaining the status quo. But as Lebanon continues its freefall, the alternative is clear: either we redefine power, or we remain trapped in this cycle of self-inflicted paralysis.This is why Nawaf Salam and Joseph Aoun worked so hard to ensure there would be no clear “obstructing third”—yet another Lebanese political invention designed to paralyze governance. Without it, the cabinet has at least a fighting chance to begin the reconstitution of a Lebanese state—one that Hezbollah and its collaborators from the sectarian parties have meticulously dismantled over decades.In other words, let’s redefine strength and success as building ourselves up—our institutions, our economy, and our capabilities—rather than measuring them by how much “pain we inflict.” Especially when that pain is negligible compared to what we’ve endured: over 4,000 killed and $10 billion in damages.Let’s try building for once instead of destroying. We’ve seen where destruction leads—it has never served us. So why not choose a different path this time?Gino's Blog is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
Let’s start with the obvious: a lot of people attended Hassan Nasrallah’s funeral, nearly five months after he was killed in a massive Israeli airstrike on Dahieh. But the funeral was more than just a farewell—it was also an opportunity for a badly battered Hezbollah to demonstrate that it still had support.Now, we can debate whether the turnout was a referendum on Hezbollah or simply a reflection of the deep reverence many of its supporters had for their longtime secretary-general. But that’s not the focus of this Monday’s post. Instead, it’s about what happened before, during, and right after.Before we dive in, let me address those who felt deflated or concerned by the sight of a stadium packed with mourners, especially after sensing that Hezbollah’s presence had waned.ginoraidy.substack.com Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
Maybe you’re not exactly like me, but when I fall in love with something, I tend to get a little obsessed. Whether it’s a book, a movie, a series, a music genre, or a niche area of expertise, I want to know everything—the lore, the culture, the creators, the nuances—and figure out if and how it fits into my life or worldview.Growing up, I’d weave Tolkien into my life—my fashion, my interests—just like I did with Star Wars, Biology, Hip Hop, Trance, or whatever else my teenage brain fixated on for a few months at a time. As I got older, I toned it down—not because my passion for new things faded, not at all. It was because of a familiar phrase I’m sure most, if not all, of you have heard at some point in Lebanon: Ma t3isha. 3ayyoush. Or some variation of it.In today’s article, I want to unpack what this phrase really means and why it felt like hitting a brick wall when trying to express oneself—especially when that expression came in the form of passion or enthusiasm for something others around you, whether at school or in your neighborhood, didn’t share.The Social Policing of Passion in LebanonAt first glance, "ma t3isha" might seem like just another offhand remark—something friends say to tease each other or an older sibling throws out to shut down a younger one’s enthusiasm. But beneath its casual delivery is a powerful social cue: Don’t get too carried away. Don’t live in your own world too much.For many kids and teens growing up in Lebanon, it serves as an invisible boundary line, shaping how they engage with their passions. Whether you were obsessed with The Lord of the Rings, deep into obscure hip-hop subgenres, or fully committed to memorizing the entire lore of a video game, you might have found yourself hearing "ma t3isha" whenever your excitement became too extra for those around you.But why? What is it about deep enthusiasm that makes people react this way?Cultural Pragmatism and the Fear of "Wasting Time"Lebanon’s history of instability—wars, economic crises, and social upheaval—has shaped a collective mindset that prioritizes adaptability, resilience, and pragmatism. The expectation, whether stated outright or implied, is that you should invest your time and energy into things that matter—things that are useful, profitable, or socially acceptable.There’s a subconscious social filter at play:* Loving football? Cool, because it’s widely accepted and part of group identity.* Being into music? Fine, as long as it’s mainstream enough to be shared and understood.* Diving deep into an obscure fantasy world or niche electronic music scene? Eh… why?"Ma t3isha" often kicks in when someone’s interests or passion don’t neatly align with these practical or social norms. If what excites you doesn’t seem immediately useful or relatable, the reaction is to brush it off, sometimes even with a hint of concern: Why are you spending so much energy on this? What’s the point?For Lebanese teens growing up in a culture that values resourcefulness, passion for something "unconventional" can be seen as impractical or, worse, a distraction from real-life priorities. The phrase "ma t3isha" is a social nudge back to reality—a way of saying "Don’t get too lost in that. It’s not serious."A Tool for Social ConformityAnother reason "ma t3isha" holds so much weight is its role in maintaining social cohesion. Lebanon is, at its heart, a collectivist society, at least in public. Even though individualism exists (7arboo2), social belonging is highly valued, and that means there’s often an unspoken pressure to not stray too far from the pack.Expressing too much enthusiasm for something that others don’t share can make you stand out—and not always in a good way. Whether at school, in the neighborhood, or even among cousins at family gatherings, being too deeply into something niche can make others feel disconnected from you. "Ma t3isha" acts as a subtle way to steer people back toward what’s socially acceptable and shared.It’s why being a massive football fan or a die-hard Fairuz listener is totally fine—because these interests are widely recognized and collectively celebrated. But start talking about how you’re obsessed with medieval history or avant-garde cinema, and you might get a "ma t3isha" thrown your way. Sucks, I know.This isn’t necessarily about intentionally discouraging individuality, but rather a reflection of how Lebanese social circles function. If an interest can’t be easily shared or understood by the group, it’s often met with resistance.I can’t deny that some people simply enjoy taking the wind out of your sails, trying to put you down because they think it makes them look cool. For those people, I genuinely feel sorry—but they’re not worth much discussion.How It Impacts Passion and Self-DiscoveryFor those who hear "ma t3isha" enough times, the impact can be subtle but significant. Over time, it can lead to:* Self-censorship: You learn to downplay your enthusiasm, keeping certain interests private or only discussing them with select people.* Shifting passions: Instead of fully diving into what excites you, you might choose to invest in things that feel safer to talk about in social settings.* A delay in self-acceptance: Some people don’t fully embrace their unique interests until adulthood, when they’re in spaces that allow for deeper self-expression.But it’s not all negative. Many Lebanese teens eventually find their people—friends who share their passions, online communities that validate their interests, or even spaces abroad where they can fully embrace their identities without fear of dismissal. I count myself among the lucky ones. Today, when I get carried away in excitement, the people around me don’t shut it down—they share in it, ask questions, and sometimes even adopt the passions that have taken hold of me. And that feels f*****g amazing.The Unspoken Rule: Enthusiasm is CringeIf "ma t3isha" shaped how many Lebanese kids and teens expressed their passions, it didn’t stop there. As those kids grew up, the cultural pressure to not try too hard evolved into something even bigger—a generational attitude that mirrors broader Millennial and Gen X cynicism, where effort itself often becomes uncool.One of the defining traits of Millennial and Gen X humor—both in Lebanon and globally—is irony, sarcasm, and a general detachment from overt sincerity. Whether it’s through self-deprecating jokes, hyper-awareness of trends, or a reluctance to appear too invested in anything, there’s an underlying belief that trying too hard is embarrassing.This is where "ma t3isha" and generational cynicism intersect. If "ma t3isha" is about not getting too caught up in your own world, then the Millennial and Gen X equivalent is not looking like you care too much about anything at all.Think about the way passion is treated in certain social settings:* Being effortlessly good at something? Cool.* Being visibly excited about something? Cringe.* Showing too much sincerity? Even worse.Much like how "ma t3isha" discourages young people from diving too deep into their interests, the broader generational mindset of detachment—whether in pop culture, internet humor, or real-life social interactions—creates an environment where being deeply invested in anything can feel socially risky.Where Did This Attitude Come From?For Millennials, growing up in a world of economic instability, failed institutions, and an oversaturation of media meant that detachment became a coping mechanism. Trying too hard felt pointless when so many systems—whether political, financial, or social—were failing around them. Irony and self-awareness became survival skills, shaping the tone of everything from memes to workplace culture.For Gen X, their cynicism was rooted in rebellion against the high expectations and corporate optimism of their Baby Boomer predecessors. Rejecting traditional paths, embracing alternative subcultures, and treating mainstream enthusiasm with skepticism defined much of their cultural DNA.In Lebanon, these generational shifts blended with ma t3isha in a way that doubled down on the idea that sincerity is embarrassing, and effort should be effortless. If you were too into something—whether it was a fandom, a career aspiration, or even personal development—it was safer to play it cool, joke about it, or act like you didn’t care that much.Looking back, there’s a knot in my stomach when I think about how many years I spent living like that…How This Affects Creativity and AmbitionFor many people, especially creatives, this attitude can be stifling. Passion, by its nature, requires effort. Science, art, writing, music, activism—none of these things thrive in an environment where caring is met with skepticism. But when you’ve internalized the idea that being too enthusiastic is a social risk, you start to hold back.* Instead of fully committing to a creative project, you might downplay it with a “Yeah, I’m just messing around with it” attitude.* Instead of celebrating personal achievements, you self-deprecate to avoid seeming too proud.* Instead of chasing a dream, you hesitate—because what if people think you’re trying too hard?Why We Should Never Say “Ma T3isha” AgainIf I could go back and tell my younger self something, it would be this: Never let someone shame you for being passionate. Never shrink your enthusiasm just because others don’t share it. The people who change the world—scientists, artists, musicians, writers, scientists, activists—are the ones who embrace their obsessions, no matter how niche, weird, or “pointless” they might seem to others.And beyond that, I’d remind myself—and all of us—to never be the person who kills someone else’s excitement. The next time you see someone—whether it’s a kid, a friend, or a coworker—getting way too into something, resist the instinct to say “ma t3isha”. Instead, ask them about it. Let them share. Encourage them to go even deeper.Because passion is contagious. And the world doesn’t need more people wh
One of the most memorable books I read last year was Barbara F. Walter’s How Civil Wars Start. She identifies eight key factors that often trigger civil conflicts. Lately, I’ve noticed many of these factors surfacing in Lebanon—especially in the aftermath of Hezbollah’s humiliating defeat in its latest war with Israel and the collapse of the Assad regime next door. Once so dominant, Lebanon’s de facto rulers now seem to be scrambling for any desperate measure to regain relevance, even if it’s clear these attempts are doomed to fail.I don’t believe Lebanon is on the verge of another civil war, but Walter’s book is invaluable for understanding Hezbollah’s current mindset. That’s why I’ve decided to break down her insights here, in the hope of clarifying our best response strategy.A prime example is the ceasefire agreement that Hezbollah itself signed. It’s largely kept under wraps, yet it remains binding. Remarkably, Hezbollah waited until its cabinet was removed and replaced by Joseph Aoun and Nawaf Salam before it began symbolically opposing the same terms it forced along with Israel on the entire country, most of which did not want this failed “support” front disaster.With that backdrop, let’s look at Walter’s eight factors and how they map onto Lebanon today. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
You can watch the full 90+ minute interview above. I also cut a few clips that resonated with me the most—whether it’s his immediate promise to do everything possible to regain the trust of young Lebanese, most of whom want to leave Lebanon if they haven’t already (or were forced to leave, like me).He also spoke about missed opportunities, which really resonated with me, as I’ve written about that for years—using almost the same language as the person who is now our PM. You can read my 2020 article here: The 6 Disappointments That Led to October 17.And of course, the elephant in the room—Hezbollah, the implementation of the ceasefire deal, and UNSCR 1701. Questions like: Is it only south of the Litani River? (In other words, does that mean Hezbollah can keep its weapons to fight and invade other parts of Lebanon?) He was crystal clear: full implementation, across every last part of Lebanon—from the Kabir River in Akkar to Naqoura on the border with Palestine & Israel.Overall, it was incredibly refreshing to hear—especially considering the absolute garbage leaders who came before him, like Michel Aoun, Najib Mikati, and Hassan Diab. Michel Aoun hysterically yelled and insulted the Lebanese people and told young ones to emigrate if they “didn’t like him.” Najib Mikati shed crocodile tears about how he couldn’t dine in fancy restaurants because citizens would confront him over his blatant and shameless corruption. Absurd stuff.Watching this interview gave me a sense of relief. I also felt that the judge in him really came through, especially when discussing precedents from the Fouad Chehab era—such as the formation of an extra-parliamentary cabinet, where ministers are neither MPs nor future candidates in an election they are overseeing. He used this to explain that while his methodolgy of selecting ministers isn’t explicitly outlined in the constitution or the Taif Agreement, it has precedent in what is arguably the most successful presidency in Lebanon’s history. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
Mabrook! I want to start today’s article and episode by thanking everyone who has worked tirelessly over the past six weeks to achieve what many Lebanese thought was impossible: a president, a prime minister, and a cabinet made up—mostly—of the right men and women, in the right positions, at the right time.I know many of you are here because of Yassin Jaber, so let’s start with that. Yes, he was one of the four ministers approved by Nabih Berri. Yes, he’s not a new face. And yes, he is now the finance minister—an unwritten third pillar in Lebanon’s deeply flawed sectarian power-sharing system, a less-than-ideal version of democracy.Read in full on ginoraidy.substack.com! Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
I had to jump on here and share some insights about the cabinet formation, as many of you seem to be buying into the widespread campaigns from nearly every side against Nawaf Salam—the easiest target for the mafia and militia omertà in power.What’s Happening Behind the ScenesNegotiations. That’s how politics work when it’s not just one man forcing everyone else to fall in line, like before. I’m going to say something many of you won’t like, but you’re adults—you can handle it. The Finance Ministry was never going to someone anti-Hezbollah. Not even remotely. And everyone involved in forming the cabinet knew this from the start—whether it was the Lebanese Forces, the banking clans, or any of the other sectarian and corrupt leaders.Why was that ministry always going to stay within Hezbollah’s acceptable sphere? Simple: because the other players wanted to secure their own interests. Notice how they all tied the Finance Ministry to whichever ministry they wanted in return. Never once did they accept the idea that if Finance was off the table, so was everything else for everyone else.Now, imagine being the gruesome twosome—after losing almost everything, including a PM and President they vetoed but still couldn’t stop—do you think they’d hand that ministry to someone the LF favors? It was the hill they were ready to die (or rather, kill) on.As for the rest of the parties involved, they all agreed on the Finance Ministry’s fate. Yet publicly, their smears conveniently single out Nawaf Salam, as if the decision was his alone—not the result of their own collusion. They postured, raising the bar, pretending Finance was off the table for Hezbollah, but only until the LF secured Foreign Affairs, Energy, and two other ministries. Initially, they were getting less—and without the FM position. Same story with the other parties. The PSP walked away with Public Works and Agriculture. The FPM? Unclear if they’ll even join, but they’re maneuvering for better odds in exchange for agreeing to a finance minister like Yassin Jaber—so long as they get something in return.Why Is Nawaf Salam Putting Up With This?Because, like it or not, the MPs who will grant confidence to the new government are the same ones negotiating for their portfolios. In an ideal world, his cabinet would be filled with his and Joseph Aoun’s picks—free from career politicians and future parliamentary candidates. But that’s not the reality. I don’t envy him. He has a tough job, not just building a functional government but ensuring no one can derail it as easily as they did before.The Key Ministries: Interior, Defense, and JusticeNow, here’s where things get interesting. The Interior, Defense, and Justice ministries are going to people from the new President and Prime Minister’s trusted circle—the three ministries most critical for jumpstarting reforms and ensuring free and fair elections. That could have never been possible before. Four other ministries too, are as far away as possible from the sectarian political parties’ circles. Most of the ministers are going to be great, and even the not-so-great ones, are exponentially better than anything we would have gotten with Najib Mikati. Did Everyone Get What They Wanted?No. But most walked away with more than they had right after Salam was appointed. Is it ideal? Of course not. But does it allow Nawaf and Joseph to hit the ground running without more wasted time? Yes.What frustrates me is how obvious the political maneuvering was—brinkmanship at its finest. The second they got their cut, they agreed to let go of the Finance Ministry and then flipped on Salam, dumping the weight of their own compromises onto him. What frustrates me even more is how many people fell for it. Instead of recognizing the game, they were quick to turn on Salam, eager to find any excuse to give up—when the real question should be: how do we make sure that in the next parliamentary elections, we have the biggest bloc, so we don’t have to go through this exhausting cycle just to get moving while everything else around us keeps changing?It’s time to stop treating every battle like the final one. This is going to take a lot of work, with ups and downs along the way. What matters is that we keep pushing forward, knowing there will be obstacles to overcome. If you want to give up, that’s your right—and it’s completely understandable.But if you have nothing constructive to add, don’t lend your voice to the obvious smear campaigns designed to strengthen someone else’s negotiating position. You should know better. And if you’re angry about Yassin Jaber, direct that anger at those who approved him in exchange for their own gains—not at the wrong person.Gino's Blog is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
What a wild three weeks—it’s been nonstop, and not just for Lebanon. My take on the cabinet formation hasn’t changed, but there’s a clear disconnect between Nawaf Salam’s approach and the expectations of many who backed his appointment as a step toward real change. In this Monday’s episode, I’ll break down why we feel stuck, why it doesn’t have to be this way, and what Nawaf Salam and Joseph Aoun could do in the days leading up to the ceasefire extension deadline, Saad Hariri’s return, and Hassan Nasrallah’s long-delayed funeral.The short version? Nawaf Salam is still acting like a judge. As a former president of the International Court of Justice (ICJ), his instincts are procedural—working behind closed doors, speaking rarely, and prioritizing due process over public engagement. But he’s not a judge anymore; he’s Lebanon’s PM-designate. And while his legal expertise is exactly why so many wanted him in this role—especially in a system dominated by a mafia-militia nexus of Hezbollah, banking elites, and everyone clinging to their corrupt spoils—his approach needs to shift. An interim communications and crisis team, similar to the one Joseph Aoun assembled, could help cut through the disinformation blitz designed to protect this entrenched coalition.Because if Salam continues to operate in silence, his opponents will fill the void.Judicial vs. Political Approach and the Current ChallengesA judge doesn’t weigh in on a case before a verdict. They don’t engage with lobbyists, political operatives, the press, or even advisors while making and justifying a decision. That restraint is a hallmark of a good, principled judge. But it’s also why judges don’t always transition smoothly into politics—especially not overnight. What’s off-limits for a judge is often essential for a politician. Take communication: keeping people informed, pushing back against smear campaigns, and responding to a volatile public mood—even when it’s not explicitly written into the rules and procedures that keep institutions running.It’s no secret why Hezbollah fears a successful Nawaf Salam and Joseph Aoun era. It would be the political embodiment of their latest failure and the formalization of a new reality—one where Nasrallah, acting under the orders of Khamenei and Assad, no longer exclusively dictates the course of the country.It’s just as clear why the traditional sectarian parties fear a successful Salam. Their power never came from bold ideas or popular policies but from an entrenched system of Ottoman-era corruption—one that turned citizens into commodities, bought and sold through “wastas” paid for with their own taxes. And as 2019 confirmed, even their personal savings weren’t off-limits in this unsustainable political Ponzi scheme.What’s less obvious is why mouthpieces for Lebanon’s banking elite—like the Ghanem brothers on Sar El Wa2et—suddenly flipped from celebrating Nawaf Salam’s appointment to launching a frantic smear campaign. Their rhetoric feels like a rerun of their shameless fearmongering when the Thawra broke out, with George practically going on air daily to defend the banks, spinning the justified demands of citizens—who just want their stolen money back—into a supposed “plan for civil war.” It’s not even subtle propaganda. It’s the banking clan panicking, terrified that under Joseph Aoun and Nawaf Salam, they might finally be held accountable for what they did to all of us.With such a relentless and self-serving elite—one that has zero regard for national interests or the rule of law—I still believe we can overcome this. But it won’t happen on its own. We have to put in the work and refuse to back down at the first sign of resistance from a ruling class that, for the first time, truly fears its time is up. And this time, Nasrallah isn’t there to shield them with invasions and assassinations, as he has done for decades against both Lebanese and Syrians who dared to demand a better future.So, here are some practical tips for Nawaf Salam and those in his inner circle—several of whom, I know, read these posts and won’t take issue with a little public advice.1- Break the Silence and Own the NarrativeThe spread of disinformation and the grip of sectarian and corrupt networks pose major challenges. Salam’s meticulous, process-driven approach risks being seen as slow or disconnected in an environment where bad actors thrive on brinkmanship, betting on last-minute foreign intervention to bail them out.But with shifting geopolitical dynamics, that safety net is no longer guaranteed—leaving the outcome uncertain for everyone. But also, makes change possible in a world busy with bigger problems than little old Lebanon.Hire a communications and crisis management team—let them handle the messaging while you focus on what you do best: upholding the law without twisting it, as has been the norm for the past 40 years. A strong example is the team of advisors and communications experts Joseph Aoun assembled—an approach that can easily be adapted to fit your style and vision. And there’s no shortage of capable, willing Lebanese ready to step up and support this effort.2- Urgency and Bold MovesWith the ceasefire expiring and the political climate heating up, there's little time for prolonged deliberation. A bold move could be the formation of a temporary crisis management team, allowing for quick, decisive action to address immediate concerns while maintaining a focus on long-term reforms.The timing couldn’t be more critical. Saad Hariri is eyeing yet another comeback ahead of February 14, the anniversary of his father’s assassination by Hezbollah—fully aware that he, too, could be held accountable like the rest. Meanwhile, Nasrallah’s funeral on February 23 looms, and the ceasefire is set to expire just days before unless renewed. In this high-stakes moment, a cautious, judge-like approach won’t cut it. What’s needed now is a bold move by a prime minister with massive popular support.3- A True Partnership between President and Prime MinisterPresident Joseph Aoun can play a crucial role in bridging the gap between Salam’s judicial mindset and Lebanon’s political realities. By promoting transparency and fostering collaboration, he can help Salam build the alliances needed to navigate this moment. This also marks a significant shift—unlike previous eras where the president and prime minister were often at odds or both subservient to Hezbollah. Together, Aoun and Salam represent something different: leaders with a proven track record of putting Lebanon’s interests first, rather than serving foreign patrons or sectarian zaims.In these crazy times, a blend of judicial integrity and political agility is essential. Salam’s challenge is to navigate this transition effectively, and with the right support from all of us and the right strategies, he can guide Lebanon toward a more stable future.Do it Mr. Salam, don’t let us down!Gino's Blog is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe
I’m a staunch critic of Hezbollah—one of the many reasons I was forced out of Lebanon. In the lead-up to Joseph Aoun’s election as president and Nawaf Salam’s appointment as prime minister, I resumed my activism and campaigning at full force. Both were my top picks, and I’m extremely happy about the outcome. But while it’s a massive step forward, it’s just one step on a long and difficult road.My opposition to Hezbollah intensified when they intervened in Syria, though I never supported them before that. The Mar Mikhael agreement with the Free Patriotic Movement was one of the reasons I left the FPM as a young, idealistic teenager that thought they were progressive and different from the rest. But after witnessing Hezbollah’s actions in Syria, I became certain: as long as they control our fate, Lebanon will see nothing but pain, suffering, death, and humiliation.Being so strongly anti-Hezbollah, it’s easy to focus on their overwhelming influence in Lebanon and overlook the rest. But to truly address Lebanon’s challenges, we must also scrutinize the roles of other major political parties. While they may not be equally culpable, they have all benefited from and contributed to the status quo. It’s time to hold everyone accountable.In today’s piece, I’ll carefully call out the rest of Lebanon’s political establishment while avoiding the trap of false equivalence. You know the one—where the moment you criticize a party, someone jumps in with, “Yeah! They’re all the same, so just lump them together!” But they’re not all the same, and pretending they are only lets the worst actors off the hook. And that’s something I will never do.Why Now?Before diving into each party, let me explain why I’m addressing this now. In the past few weeks, disinformation about the cabinet formation has been spreading at breakneck speed, disillusioning many—including friends of mine. And who can blame them? After a lifetime of business as usual, it’s hard to expect a different outcome, even when the variables have changed and the opportunity for real change is finally within reach—if we seize it.This wave of disinformation isn’t just coming from Hezbollah, Amal, and their mouthpieces. Groups like the Lebanese Forces and Free Patriotic Movement are just as guilty. You can spot their game when they say things like, “Oh! If Hezbollah gets the Finance Ministry” (which Nawaf has repeatedly denied), “then I want X, Y, and Z ministries.”That kind of opportunism makes me livid. Hezbollah is finally being forced to reckon with the reality they created, yet their former partners and lackeys are trying to reposition themselves—acting like saints who were merely bystanders instead of active participants in the destruction of an entire generation’s future, all under Hezbollah’s boot. Not under my watch!The Role of the Lebanese ForcesGeagea has positioned himself as the de facto leader of the anti-Hezbollah camp—and with one of the largest parliamentary blocs, who can blame him? But no matter how much the Lebanese Forces want you to forget, they were partners with Hezbollah in the disastrous election of Michel Aoun in 2016. That decision not only accelerated Lebanon’s collapse but also enabled the weaponization of the judiciary in ways that would make Bashar al-Assad proud.As much as they try to sell it as a move made for Lebanon’s sake, the reality was far more self-serving—Gebran Bassil promised Samir Geagea a deal to divide public positions between them in a classic scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours arrangement. But, of course, Bassil being Bassil, that promise was never kept.In a way, it was poetic karma. The LF thought selling Lebanon to Hezbollah was a fair trade as long as they got their share of ministries and forest guardian posts to hand out to their followers. Turns out, when you make a deal with the devil, you don’t get to negotiate the terms.So today, when we say Hezbollah can’t have the ministry it wants, that doesn’t mean the LF should either. Yet the so-called “pragmatic” leadership of the party seems to have conveniently forgotten its own accountability. Just as Hezbollah doesn’t get to pick and choose exactly what it wants, the LF’s letter to Santa shouldn’t be a guarantee either.After all, they stood alongside Hezbollah in forcing Michel Aoun—and his son-in-law—down Lebanon’s throat. That betrayal isn’t erased. They are not redeemed yet. So maybe it’s time they started acting like it.The Free Patriotic MovementThese guys are among the worst culprits—second only, perhaps, to the Amal Movement. Michel Aoun’s complicity in Hezbollah’s brutality will never be forgotten, nor forgiven. For the sake of a few illicit paydays and the reckless squandering of public funds, the FPM paved the way for Lebanon’s collapse. They didn’t just enable the downfall—they ensured, as Aoun himself put it, that we would “go to hell.”I won’t waste much time on them—I’ve already spent enough of my life fighting them. Their shameful, Assad-style crackdown on me has earned them a permanent spot on my blacklist.But now, we’re seeing “leaked info” suggesting that Gebran Bassil is getting five ministries, despite his bloc crumbling. It’s nothing more than a pathetic disinformation stunt from his camp—an attempt to inflate his relevance and manipulate public opinion into believing he still holds real power. Five ministries? Please.Gebran’s dreams of the presidency evaporated the moment he chose Hassan Nasrallah over his own people. And if there’s one thing I’m most proud of—despite the cost—it’s making sure he will never be president.So if Hezbollah doesn’t get to pick and choose, neither do you, Gebran. Shame on you for even dreaming of it at this point—when you’ve done nothing to even begin undoing the damage you inflicted as Nasrallah’s lapdog.The Future MovementI will never understand how, after the Special Tribunal for Lebanon found Hezbollah guilty of assassinating his own father, Rafik Hariri, Saad Hariri still chose to remain a useful tool in Nasrallah’s belt. I’ll never forget him standing before the STL, still insisting he wanted to work with Hezbollah.Then again, money speaks louder than honor—even louder than justice for his own father’s murder. As long as his trusted contractors got their cut alongside Berri’s and Bassil’s networks, all was well. Now, even though Future and Hariri have been significantly weakened, they still cling to relevance as part of the so-called anti-Hezbollah camp—when in reality, they were partners in corruption, collaborators against the Lebanese people.So if Hezbollah isn’t getting the Finance Ministry, you sure as hell aren’t getting the Interior—or whatever else you had your eyes on.The Progressive Socialist PartyI know you’re expecting a joke about Walid Jumblatt’s legendary flip-flopping, but I’m not that funny. The truth is, Jumblatt has mastered the art of sensing which way the wind is blowing and adjusting his sails accordingly. Despite not being a major force, he has perfected the role of kingmaker in Lebanon’s tightly divided political landscape—always managing to secure a share far larger than he deserves.But not this time. The PSP’s consistent support and collaboration with Hezbollah mean that if Hezbollah doesn’t get everything it dreams of, neither does the PSP.ConclusionI’m not gonna go into the rest, because these are the ones that matter most right now.So, while Hezbollah's role is the major one, we must hold all political parties accountable. Killon Ya3ne Killon.Each has played a part in our current reality, and each must contribute to our future. True progress requires collective responsibility and shared sacrifice.If Hezbollah isn’t getting the ministry they want the most, the rest, who have all worked under and with Hezbollah, also cannot get what they want and must defer to Nawaf Salam and Joseph Aoun in this transition period.So, stop spreading WhatsApp broadcasts, we all know you were Hezbollah assets, and now that Hezbollah is reduced to a husk, you don’t get to pretend like nothing happened. You need to pay back some of what you cost us. So, for once, do the right thing and don’t stand in the way of progress.Gino's Blog is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe