Since I was asked to share my impressions about the popular uprisings that began on October 17, 2019, other events have since overshadowed them in the concerns of the Lebanese people. First came the revelations about the economic situation, then fears of the coronavirus spreading. Not to mention personal worries — illness, grief, or separation — that can, at any moment, eclipse collective concerns and relegate them to the background. As with everything else, two worries cannot occupy the conscious mind at the same time.
I will leave it to others — those with the time or inclination — to analyze the whys and hows of what we have witnessed in recent months. In the following lines, I will focus only on the psychological traits these events have revealed in the soul of a large majority of Lebanese (all generalizations being flawed) and, more broadly, in the human soul.
From my perspective, the events of October 17 did not begin on that date. To claim otherwise would be like thinking a newborn only begins to exist the moment it leaves its mother’s womb, disregarding the entire preceding gestation period.
Human beings are not accustomed to accounting for what they cannot see. They grasp events as they appear and try to attribute immediate causes (causa proxima) to them, completely ignoring the distant causes (causa remota).
Yet everything that manifests is the result of an evolution that first unfolds in the invisible. And in this imperceptible dimension, it is not a single cause but a bundle of factors that contribute to what we call an event.
In this tangled web of factors, trying to link an effect to a single cause would be an act of great presumption — if not outright ignorance. Ignorance of a fundamental law that governs our world: the law of the interdependence of all things. Causes are effects, and effects are causes. Human relationships — at all levels, including the social — form a fabric woven with countless threads. Remove one or more, and the fabric unravels.
When human beings rise up in a surge of freedom against an established order they no longer find satisfactory, it is a natural and healthy movement. They are often joined, in thought and intention, by many others who remain at home.
These movements always have the scope and consequences that the degree of maturity and evolution of a community allows — nothing more, nothing less. Chance plays no role.
Of course, there is always a triggering event used as a pretext, but it has nothing to do with the scale these movements later attain. The energy driving them has been nourished beforehand, for a shorter or longer time, by all the thoughts, emotions, intentions, and actions that had not yet reached sufficient intensity to erupt.
And when a volcano erupts, no one can predict how much lava it will spew.
For any force to act, it needs resistance to overcome, an obstacle to move or topple. When human beings are swept up in a liberating surge, that obstacle is the ruling authority.
Even in countries not plagued by sectarianism like Lebanon, history has shown that protesters often disagree on which authority to overthrow. This is even truer in Lebanon, where there is not one political authority but several.
Recent experience proves that those in our country who have truly freed themselves from sectarian identification remain a small minority.
Yet it is widely accepted that a people — as a whole — gets the leaders it resembles. I chose not to write ”deserves”, though that is what I often hear repeated. I am not talking about electoral systems, voting, or abstention, which may determine who comes to power. But one undeniable fact remains: leaders do not parachute in from nowhere, and an inescapable law — the law of attraction — dictates that we manifest in our conscious field what we carry within us.
Some might take offense at such a statement. If so, they would be overlooking a significant part of our psyche: our shadow.
Our shadow does not mean, as common language sometimes suggests, our dark side or our flaws. Our shadow consists of all the possibilities we do not want — or dare — to see in ourselves and that we repress.
Nothing repressed ever disappears. These are images or thoughts charged with energy, lurking deep within us, seeking any means to surface in our conscious awareness.
An example often given is that of a balloon we try to hide from view by forcing it underwater — only for it to smack us in the face the moment it slips from our grip.
The human being is a microcosm — a miniature cosmos — compared to the macrocosm, the universe in which we evolve. As such, each of us contains all possibilities within. Thus, nothing human is alien to us, from the most admirable to the most abhorrent. We all know the saying: ”Man is neither angel nor beast, and whoever tries to act the angel becomes the beast“.
Among the infinite latent possibilities within us, only a certain number develop, depending on factors like heredity, upbringing, and life’s twists and turns. Others remain dormant, and still others are repressed due to the moral codes under which we were raised.
These repressed tendencies form our shadow. And this part of our psyche continually disturbs us precisely because it refuses to stay in the shadows. For our part, we expend enormous energy to keep it there — sometimes to the point of exhaustion, because part of our energy is used by what is repressed to resurface, and another part to prevent it from doing so.
The inner conflict between what we acknowledge and accept in ourselves and what we repress and refuse to welcome is the source of our anxieties, fears, and worries.
To relieve this tension, we tend to project outward these unconscious and detestable figures that prevent us from being at peace. Political leaders — though not the only ones — are prime targets for such projections. These can be directed at the rich by the poor or vice versa, at individuals of another religion, or at anyone whose difference unsettles us, challenges us, and threatens our self-image.
Noticing a difference in viewpoints or a disagreement with another is natural; but hatred betrays an inner conflict with an authority within us that prevents us from being at peace. Anything excessive is suspect and necessarily contains a subjective element.
Who better than a ruling authority to symbolize, externally, this shadow authority that keeps us from being free — free from our fears and limitations?
A passerby encounters a man searching under a streetlamp at night for something he seems to have lost. After helping him for a while, the passerby asks if he really lost it there. The man replies, ”No! I lost it at home, but there’s no light there, so I’m looking here“.
This anecdote may seem simplistic, but often we try to resolve external conflicts that are actually internal — because it’s dark inside, and we cannot identify the shadows within.
I hope I’ve made it clear that what interested me about the popular uprisings was what they revealed about the inner landscape of those who took part — whether they took to the streets, waged war on social media and other platforms, or even in their own thoughts.
I saw an enormous mass of frustration and dissatisfaction. These feelings did not come only from those seeking better material conditions but also from privileged people who benefited from the system. This did not surprise me, because possessing wealth does not guarantee quality of being. Behind deceptive facades lies much inner misery — a profound lack of love.
I observed a strong tendency to spread unverified, often false information, simply because it fed the hatred people wanted to feel — regardless of the target, as long as they were on the opposing political side. Hate is the flip side of love. When we can no longer feel love, we crave strong emotions, and hatred becomes almost vital.
These behaviors have characterized all religious wars. The strong sectarian identity of most Lebanese adds this dimension to political divides, especially since political leaders often serve as de facto religious leaders for their followers.
Human beings need to love. If they cannot love someone, they can hardly remain indifferent. Instead, they feel a range of emotions — from simple criticism to hatred, passing through contempt, envy, or jealousy, depending on the situation.
Criticism is usually mixed with other feelings. Everyone knows, for example, how much pleasure gossip can bring — and how widespread it is.
The ego — this sense of being separate from others (which has nothing to do with being different) — cannot see itself as equal. It is either better or worse. But the first type is far more common; the second is suffered silently as low self-esteem.
The critic is the ego that always thinks itself superior. It judges, knows, and is never wrong. It asserts everything it says but almost never admits, ”I don’t know”! Criticism reinforces it because, feeling inherently unstable, it constantly needs reassurance. This applies not only to relations with leaders but to all human interactions, even within families.
For months, I have hardly heard anyone say, ”I don’t know”. Instead, I’ve seen self-proclaimed experts in politics, economics, and lately medicine (with the coronavirus) — mostly false authorities. And most of the time, everything serves to fuel criticism of others.
Many speak; few listen. Many point an accusing finger but fail to see the three fingers pointing back at themselves. When I heard chants of ”All of them means all!”, I kept waiting for someone to add, ”Including me”! Me, who breaks traffic laws; me, who takes advantage of privileges when possible; me, who happily evades taxes; me, who is willing to bribe an official to cut bureaucratic red tape — and so on.
More broadly, who among us has never been selfish, arrogant, petty, contemptuous, intolerant — in thought, feeling, or action — toward others, their ideas, or even ourselves? Yes, ourselves, because while there are laws to protect us from others’ violence, there are none to shield us from our own. And since we rarely notice or admit these traits in ourselves, they eventually manifest externally — through a system of communicating vessels.
Another glaring trend in recent months is how many people ignore the impact their words — spoken or shared — have on their own state of mind.
Social media, not to mention private conversations, were saturated with negative emotions — fear, hatred, or cruel humor, to name a few. ”Be careful what you say — you’re listening!” This saying I once read captures how our subconscious is the first to hear what we say, directly or indirectly, when we internalize a message.
Some may already realize how exposure to news — even verified — can harm mental hygiene, especially as misinformation (”infox”) grows. But too few understand how listening to complaints — or complaining ourselves — plunges us into undesirable emotional states. We mistakenly think sharing fears exorcises them, but we only reinforce them in ourselves while passing them on.
Through these reflections, I’ve sought to shine light inward — where everything happens. Yesterday it was ”October 17”, today the coronavirus, tomorrow something else. Challenging us is this world’s nature. Anxious external situations come and go, but the observer experiencing them remains the same. And it is to this observer we must turn to see how they can become — not indifferent — but independent of what happens and passes.
No matter how much two people agree in interpreting events, they will never see them exactly the same way. Some may even perceive them oppositely. Has it not been said, ”We don’t see the world as it is, but as we are,” and ”If we change how we look at things, the things we look at change“?
The world will never meet our expectations, and there will always be reasons to complain, blame, or scapegoat. But the world is just a mirror, endlessly reflecting the shadows within us. Now, the coronavirus has underscored our extreme vulnerability — not just materially but in our very being.
”October 17” inspired these pages, which moved beyond the circumstantial to focus on the essential. Let me conclude by returning to this briefly.
What erupted that day, long brewing in the hearts and minds of the Lebanese, I applauded like the vast majority. But my peace and fulfillment do not depend on this movement’s outcome — immediate or distant. Other peoples have had revolutions, some repeatedly over centuries, yet their individuals have not thereby found the contentment we all seek.
On the world stage, people play all kinds of roles. Until theirs is done, they will keep playing it, no matter what.
A mysterious force drives me toward a goal I do not know. Until it is reached, I am invulnerable, but the moment I am no longer needed, a mere breath will topple me!
— Napoleon Bonaparte
The awakened being is not indifferent to events. They see the work of an invisible energy, of which humans are mere instruments. They know change is always unfolding — first invisibly, then visibly — and its extent depends on what can be welcomed, given the prevailing consciousness. They smile affectionately at those who believe they drive change, like a child sweeping a river’s surface, thinking they make it flow.
After all, of all those who joined the post-October 17 movements, who could have guessed their scale the night before?
As long as humans believe their dissatisfaction stems from others — leaders, bosses, neighbors, partners — and seek fulfillment outside themselves, they will wait forever.
We adapt to everything, and what seems like happiness soon becomes an unfulfilling given. The external remains external. Only an inner revolution can bring real change — where it counts! And this revolution begins when we seek within what we’ve always hoped to find outside.