The deal hatched in Doha by Lebanon's sparring factions has ended, for now at least, a crisis that had raised the spectre of renewed civil war, Lucy Fielder reports from Beirut If the "no victor, no vanquished" formula was predictable, the deal finalised this week in Doha grants Iranian- and Syrian- backed Hizbullah its main demands. Washington, opposed to its allies in the government sharing power with a group it considers "terrorist", has suffered yet another blow to its Middle East policy, and in the country it once hailed as its "success story". At the time of writing, Army Chief Michel Suleiman's election to the presidency, vacant since pro-Syrian Emile Lahoud left in November, appeared certain. Suleiman has long been the consensus candidate and the "14 March" ruling team had made election of a president before the formation of a cabinet their main demand. Suleiman's decision not to stand against Hizbullah during the recent military escalation appears to have overcome opposition wariness that he was unsupportive of Hizbullah's resistance. More than 80 people were killed in the clashes when Hizbullah and its allies briefly seized control of mainly Muslim west Beirut. "Today, we are opening a new page in Lebanon's history," said Saad Al-Hariri, whose Future Movement gunmen were defeated in the battles. "I know the wounds are deep but we have no one except each other." Al-Hariri is being touted as frontrunner for prime minister, which might go some way towards salving Sunni resentment against the Shia, exacerbated by what some saw as a takeover of "their" city. In a conciliatory gesture the opposition started dismantling the "tent city" occupying two downtown Beirut squares that had become a symbol of political stagnation and blockage. Having flexed its muscles, Hizbullah's strength is proven without doubt, but by turning its weapons inwards it has fuelled internal fears and criticism of its arms. Those weapons, and a US-led international campaign to wrest them from the Shia group's grip, have lain at the heart of the political crisis that has polarised Lebanese since Rafik Al-Hariri's assassination in February 2005. Crucially, the Doha agreement granted the opposition a "blocking third" of cabinet seats in the government to be appointed after Suleiman's election, enabling Hizbullah to exercise a veto on any decisions that encroach upon its arsenal. That demand was at the heart of six ministers' decision to resign in November 2006. Despite the rhetoric, it appears force has once again won out in Lebanon, inducing the birth of a deal that has been on the table for a year and a half. "This all begs the question, why didn't they agree more than a year ago?" says Karim Makdisi, assistant political studies professor at the American University of Beirut. "As always, there'll be no accountability for these leaders who drag the country down with them." Despite attempts by Lebanese Forces leader Samir Geagea and others in the ruling team, the Doha agenda left the issue of the "resistance weapons" untouched. Instead, a national dialogue, presided over by Suleiman, will discuss the state's relationship to internal "organisations", for which read Hizbullah. Reassurances that weapons will not be used internally demanded under the deal appear aimed at giving government leaders something to take home, since Hizbullah has made clear that it respects no red lines if it comes under threat. "Nobody emerged with total victory but certainly Hizbullah won inasmuch as it got the things it most wanted," says Makdisi. Walid Charara, a political analyst who works for Hizbullah's Centre for Study and Documentation, said "constructive chaos" could not be used to disarm the guerrillas after the July 2006 war failed to crush them. "Hizbullah has shown that if the so-called majority forces want to have a role in this country they have to reach a compromise." Few Lebanese believe the group should maintain its arms forever, with a weak Lebanese army always at risk of splitting along sectarian lines and Israel's destructive power demonstrated as recently as July 2006. "But the notion that you can have disarmament without a regional peace agreement is a non-starter," believes Makdisi. "The US and Israeli demand for disarmament has been the block for the past few years." With vehement US-Israeli opposition to Hizbullah's arms and lingering fears of a US-led attack on Iran, which backs Hizbullah, the issue is unlikely to go away. "This is not the end of the story, just the end of one chapter and the immediate threat of confrontation and battles," says Makdisi. Washington, vocal in its support of Prime Minister Fouad Al-Siniora, has suffered a serious knock in Lebanon, but now that Hizbullah and its allies command the "blocking third" it will be hard to engineer another government clampdown of the sort that prompted the crisis. Last minute haggling over a new electoral law had threatened to scupper the deal, which enshrines a return to the 1960 electoral law, another opposition demand, though with tweaks that were a nod to the ruling majority. With parliamentary elections expected in 2009, squabbling over electoral boundaries and the number of seats to be allocated to Beirut's three districts became central to negotiations, with both sides trying to swing the poll to their advantage at least 11 months before it takes place. Beirut, a crucial stronghold for Sunni majority leader Saad Al-Hariri, also contains large Christian districts important to opposition leader Michel Aoun. Aoun accused his opponents of trying to "swallow" Christian areas by diluting them with Sunni voters. The tussle, argues Makdisi, epitomises the sectarian rot at the heart of the Lebanese system which the Doha deal, like the 1990 Taif agreement that ended the civil war, has only consolidated. "Such is the gerrymandering in some parts of Beirut that there is little point voting," he says. "As always, the political class is rewarded for nearly destroying the country. Now they are busy dividing the spoils." (see p.7 and In Focus p.12)
