There’s an inescapable coolness in the air. You can prolong the disillusion that summer’s warm, genial days will carry on, but not for long. It is time for fall. Falling is inevitable.
Hezbollah chief Hassan Nasrallah has been building his case for months now. He doesn’t want the Lebanese to accept the findings – whatever they may be – of the Special Tribunal for Lebanon (STL), investigating the 2005 murder of former PM Rafik Hariri. In what could turn out to be the apex of his carefully disseminated narrative, on Thursday night Nasrallah called on the country to boycott the STL.
“Whoever cooperates with the investigation is working against the Resistance,” he said in a televised speech.
Trapped in a precarious space that teeters between possibility and peril, we are in the midst of real political struggle. But it is political struggle forged from the toxic underbelly of distrust. Trust no one. Distrust everyone. The devious deal was made long ago: self-responsibility and genuine autonomy were exchanged for the delusion that group consciousness and “the clan” could somehow ensure security, stability and strength. But then, what about weakness? What do you do when there is no one left to trust?
Chaos compounds with confusion. Culture and morality concede to the defeat of this heavy psychological burden, this life.
The seasons give us something powerful to believe in: change. The inescapable turn from fall to winter and then spring and summer, carry an assurance that revolution is inescapable; upheaval, an imperative commanded by nature.
Like those silent, breathtaking moments that fetter between the first illuminating spark of lightning and that wondrous, rumbling roll of thunder, we live now in a time of anticipation, apprehension and fear.
Go ahead. Prolong the disillusion that summer’s warm, genial days will carry on. But not for long. It is time for fall.