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James Abourezk, 1st Arab American US senator, dies at 92.
James Abourezk, attorney and Democratic politician who served as a United States senator and United States representative from South Dakota and co-founder of the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee(ADC), died today on his 92nd birthday.
He was born in Wood, South Dakota, the son of Lena (Mickel), a homemaker, and Charles Abourezk, an owner of two general stores. Both of his parents were Lebanese immigrants. He grew up near Wood on the Rosebud Reservation and has lived in South Dakota most of his life.
Abourezk represented South Dakota in the United States Senate from 1973 until 1979. He was the author of the Indian Child Welfare Act, passed by Congress in 1978 to try to preserve Indian families and tribal culture.
He was instrumental in the creation of both the American Indian Policy Review Commission and the Select Committee on Indian Affairs. He became chairman of the Indian Affairs Committee from its creation in 1977 to 1979.
Abourezk was elected in 1970 as a Democrat to the United States House of Representatives and served from 1971 to 1973. In 1972 he was elected to the U.S. Senate, where he served from 1973 to 1979.
Abourezk was an outspoken critic of Israel and U.S. foreign policy in the Middle East after touring the region and visiting his parents’ hometown in Lebanon as a senator. The position lost him many political allies, and he decided to retire from the Senate after a single term.
In 1980, Abourezk co-founded the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee and traveled throughout the U.S. organizing Arab Americans in the wake of the “Abscam” debacle. Abscam was an FBI sting operation where agents dressed up as “oil-rich sheiks” in the late 1970s and early 1980s that led to the convictions of seven members of the United States Congress, among others, for bribery and corruption.
Abourezk’s marriages to Mary Ann Houlton and Margaret Bethea ended in divorce. In 1991, he married Sanaa Dieb, a restaurateur. They moved to Sioux Falls where she opened an award-winning Arab restaurant.
Survivors include his wife; children Charles Abourezk, Nikki Pipe On Head, and Paul Abourezk from his marriage to Houlton; daughter Alya Abourezk from his third marriage; a stepdaughter; and many grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
Warren David, president of Arab America and a former national president of the American-Arab Anti-Discrimination Committee said, “during a time when discourse regarding the negative portrayal of Arabs and the injustice faced by Palestinians were scarce, he (Abourezk) acted as a pioneer who instilled a sense of immediacy in the Arab American community–he was a trailblazer in that regard.”
The Lebanese Army confirmed that Cadet Officer Jana Sader has achieved a momentous milestone by becoming the nation’s first-ever fighter jet pilot. Sader finished her training course at Laughlin Air Force Base in Texas, USA, following nearly two years of demanding curriculum and flight training.
As a graduate of the Lebanese Army’s training program, Sader is now ready to embark on a new mission. The A-29 Super Tucano attack aircraft, a sophisticated and formidable aircraft utilized for a variety of missions such as close air support, aerial reconnaissance, and armed surveillance, will be her maiden deployment.
The Lebanese Army said in a Tweet, which also noted and acknowledged her accomplishment that the A-29 Super Tucano has shown to be a dependable and successful aircraft for military operations, and Sader is eager to begin her career with the aircraft.
In her response, Twitter user Leila Hatoum praised Sader for her accomplishment and recalled learning in the 1990s that women aren’t permitted to join the air force: “In the 90s, we went to the Universities and Careers Exhibition. I went to the military stand where an officer and 2 assistants were. I asked him what is needed to become a pilot officer in the Air Force and, without an explanation, told her girls aren’t allowed to serve in the airforce.”
Many others, including the Lebanese army, used Twitter to congratulate the cadet on the achievement, proving that it was cause for celebration. Sader’s new position ushers in a new era for women in Lebanon, where the integration of women into the military has been a long process. According to the Lebanese Army’s website women joined the Lebanese Army Forces for the first time “when the chance emerged in the late 80s,” during Lebanon’s 1975–1990 Civil War, when the army required fresh recruits for its different formations.
In 1991, the government passed a new resolution mandating that 10% of the troops working for the Defense Ministry be female. Female recruits must undergo the same training as male recruits, and they are not just given administrative duties, but also jobs in combat units.
Sader’s accomplishment as a fighter pilot follows that of Captain Rola Hoteit, a pilot for Middle East Airlines, the national airline of Lebanon (MEA). When Hoteit took command of her maiden solo flight to the Jordanian capital of Amman in 2010, she made history as MEA’s first female pilot.
Six of the 190 pilots employed by MEA are now female, and in 2020 Hoteit flew with an all-female crew.
The Syrian-Lebanese economist and activist favours advocacy now over anger in her humanitarian mission to protect refugees.
Rouba Mhaissen was on a spring break in Beirut to visit her parents when she heard about the 40 families fleeing lives that had become intolerable over the border in Syria.
It was 2011, when the term “Syrian refugees” did not yet exist, and the arrivals were a harbinger of something inconceivable to Ms Mhaissen back then – the largest displacement crisis of our time.
Little knowing that the families would still be refugees more than a decade on, the 22-year-old student at the London School of Economics raced off to see what they needed.
“I took the family car and drove to meet the families to offer them help,” she tells The National.
“My parents were very worried. At the beginning of my work and until this day, they worry about me because there are risky situations.
“You get threats, and our advocacy work, in particular, can be very controversial. But they believe in the cause and support me.”
Fast forward a decade, and Ms Mhaissen is in London to appear at a charity event run by the Hands Up Foundation as the founder of Sawa for Development and Aid, a grassroots organisation that offers protection, education and relief for Syrian refugees in Lebanon.
Sawa, which means “together” in Arabic, now has about 400 employees, many of whom are from refugee communities, and operates in 130 camps.
In some ways, it is a continuation of work that the young Rouba began as a child in Beirut and Damascus, where she would often volunteer to assist orphans, and refugees from Palestine and, later, those from Iraq.
“I never knew that this would be my career,” Ms Mhaissen says. “I thought I was going to be an academic.
“When the war started in Syria in 2011, I had already applied for my PhD and had no idea I would only end up being a part-time academic.”
Born in Beirut, a “surprise” 10 years after two brothers and a sister, she had been gently steered towards academia by her Lebanese stay-at-home mother and father, a Syrian businessman.
She claims to have been raised as a very spoilt last child yet her parents convinced Ms Mhaissen against studying her heart’s desire, theatre, because it was not what they described as a rigid path.
“I definitely think that, if I was reborn, I would be a dancer because I love to dance and perform,” she says.
It was not to be. Ms Mhaissen grew up going to school in Beirut because the education was deemed better there, and then driving as a family two hours to Damascus for the weekends.
After an undergraduate degree in economics at the American University of Beirut, she embarked on a master’s in development studies at the LSE, followed by a PhD in gender and development at the School of Oriental and African Studies at the University of London.
Somehow, in the middle of all these studies, she found the time to start Sawa, through which Ms Mhaissen unsurprisingly gives priority to education.
Of prime importance to her is that refugees acquire skills to live in dignity, take ownership of their lives and rebuild their communities themselves.
The demands have been many, and, with the spread of coronavirus, she thought that perhaps she might finally learn what it is to relax a little.
“I love, love, love travelling, learning about new cultures, new food and new countries,” Ms Mhaissen says. “But with my son now it’s very hard.”
She shuttles between southern Turkey, Beirut and London with her husband, a one-year-old and another baby on the way.
The pandemic gave rise to a more acute need for aid than ever, although one silver lining is that the whole world has for the first time experienced what it is to be refugees – at least the uncertainty, the inability to plan ahead and lack of communication.
“Camps are one of the hardest environments to sit out Covid as there is nowhere to self-isolate, no internet or devices for home-schooling, and gender-based violence rose dramatically,” Ms Mhaissen says.
“People talk about refugees and their ‘resilience’, a term that is so misused. Conditions for refugees in host countries and their neighbours are constantly terrible and getting worse all the time.
“A Syrian family in Lebanon has to move their tent three times on average in winter when it floods, and then people wonder why they get on boats. It’s because they have no hope.”
Over the years, Ms Mhaissen has received many accolades and honours, including being named on the 2017 Forbes 30Under30 list of most influential people in Policy and Law.
There was also the Vital Voices Global Leadership Award and the Rafto Prize “for defending human rights from the local to the global level for people living as refugees”, both in 2019.
She has been invited to conferences, summits on Syria – at one in Brussels she met her husband, an activist from Aleppo – and this year became the 10th Arab woman to address the UN Security Council.
Late last month, days befor 27 migrants died in the English Channel, she was at the Opera Garnier in Paris being presented with the International Diane von Furstenberg Award alongside businesswoman and philanthropist Melinda Gates, CNN chief international correspondent Clarissa Ward, Burmese human rights advocate Wai Wai Nu, and climate change activist Vanessa Nakate.
She took the opportunity to tell the room full of European policymakers and philanthropists that attempting the crossing is not an illegal act.
“You have the right legally to apply for asylum in whatever country you are in,” Ms Mhaissen says. “We need to live up to our responsibility to these people.”
She also talked about the refugees stuck at the border of Belarus and Poland, and of one in particular, Ahmed, who had grown up in a camp, but was the first of the refugees to be buried officially after he drowned in a river there. His mother joined the funeral on a conference call.
“I reminded those listening that this was a woman who had been pregnant with him, who had celebrated his birthdays, who had brought him up like any mother, and who was now connecting with him on social media, just like [those in the audience] used social media to connect with their loved ones during the pandemic … except this was his funeral.
“Everyone was really moved and many were in tears. I always try to humanise it for the wider public, and I use the word ‘humans’ as often as I can when I talk about refugees.
“‘Refugee’ carries a lot of legal rights with it so while there is certainly fatigue associated with the word, it’s not a redundant word that we should stop using.
“Politicians, on the other hand, want us to call them migrants because it sounds more scary.”
The citation on the DVF award was for Ms Mhaissen’s “dedication and fierceness to support displaced Syrian individuals and families”, which world leaders gathered at the Support for Syria donor conference in London a few years earlier experienced in full force.
She was the first speaker up and was introduced by then UN secretary general Ban Ki-moon, who said: “Rouba Mhaissen, you have the floor. Two minutes.”
But a stern-looking Ma Mhaissen retorted that, as one of the few Syrians at the event speaking in the name of Syria, she wasn’t sure that she would stick to two minutes. She was at the podium for nearly nine.
It was a passionate speech in which she criticised “Fortress Europe”, her “token presence at an ad hoc event for which the priorities have already been pre-determined without our involvement”, and counter-terrorist legislation stopping funds being sent where they were most needed.
“Don’t fight the wrong people, guys,” Ms Mhaissen said.
She said she could see good leaders in the room but hoped for greatness from them along the lines of “the next Martin Luther King, the next Benazir Bhutto, the next Churchill, the next Madeline Albright, the next Mandela of our time …
“Each one of you can be that person,” she told them, “Remember that.”
Ms Mhaissen smiles at the memory.
“I realised that those in power have incredibly thick skin,” she says. “They are inured to what the situation is on the ground.
“I used to be very angry and lead a crazy life where I would come out of the field where kids had to step over their parents’ dead bodies to get to safety, and then you’re invited as the token Syrian to an event in a five-star hotel where people are drinking champagne and eating caviar.”
With a dawning realisation that advocacy, not anger, was the way to go about beating the system, the focus has since been more on changing laws that help refugees and doing the day-to-day work that affects people’s lives.
Her spirituality has been of great support throughout. “Knowing that God has been alongside me all along, and my faith, have helped me along the way,” she says.
Ms Mhaissen’s message to those gathered on Wednesday night in the 17th-century Great Hall of Lambeth Palace at the annual Singing for Syrians carol concert will be comparatively gentler in nature.
The event raises funds for Hands Up Foundation’s humanitarian work in Syria for which Sawa is a partner on educational projects.
This year it will feature the author and illustrator Nadine Kaadan, Citizens of the World Choir, actress and activist Joanna Lumley and actor Tom Hollander.
She will, she says, of course push everyone to donate to the foundation’s Big Give Christmas Challenge as a firm believer in how the deeds of the few can transform the lives of the many.
“I always say that what goes around comes around, and the more we give the more blessed our lives are,” Ms Mhaissen says. “It’s like investing in the best thing ever.”
The memory of an email received from a young Icelandic citizen will also be shared. It arrived in her inbox at the time of a terrible massacre in Syria, with the sender asking what help he could give.
Shocked, Ms Mhaissen recalls staring at the message for a long time, wondering how to answer a person on a Nordic island country in the North Atlantic Ocean.
“I told him, ‘If you want to help Syria today, call your mother. Just call your mother and see how she is doing. We are in a world of small circles and they are all interconnected …
“Sometimes,” she says, “it’s best just to start local.”
With a Lebanese name and a Cairo birthplace in the background, Gabriel Makhlouf is steering Ireland’s financial recovery.
As governor of the Central Bank of Ireland, Gabriel Makhlouf is much preoccupied by the issue of resilience in a small, open economy challenged by a year of pandemic.
Mr Makhlouf’s own peripatetic life has shown him how precious an asset the quality of adaptability is at a time of change, be it in a person or for a national economic system.
Upheaval and the Makhloufs on the move could be a theme stretching back to when his father’s side of the family travelled across the Mediterranean from their Lebanese homeland to Cyprus.
When the island was part of the Empire, the family became British subjects and Makhlouf Snr ended up working at the embassy in Cairo after the Second World War.
It was in that palatial building near the Nile that he fell for a Greek-Armenian woman whose forebears had fled the historical turmoil of Izmir in 1922. Her family moved to Athens where she has come full circle to live today.
Mr Makhlouf was talking to The National at a time when Ireland’s strict national Level 5 lockdown is both defining his job and providing a perspective on the decades of movement and upheaval that have brought him to where he is now.
At a conference last week, the governor spoke of how the outlook had deteriorated in 2021 with the renewed lockdown. The short-term need to bolster the economy coincided with structural changes from technological innovation and climate policies. Ireland suffered a 7.1 per cent slump in domestic demand last year but is expected to see a 2.9 per cent increase in 2021.
Unemployment is predicted to reach 9.3 per cent this year and for an economy with a high level of property-focused debt, ensuring that households are supported is a priority. Mr Makhlouf points out that growth is not the same as having the capacity to recover quickly.
“We cannot anticipate every type of shock but we can build resilience,” he said in his keynote address. “Resilience is what has prevented the financial system repeating its previous failure. Resilience is what has protected households, businesses and communities against the worst of the damage from the shock of the pandemic.
“Economic resilience is what helps communities to manage the disruption caused by change and to manage the economic transitions we are living in right now.”
In providing leadership during financial strife, it is perhaps a boon to have some sense of dislocation. He describes his mother’s family as refugees. His parents met in a milieu that was the product of worlds with roots as far back as the Phoenicians, ancient Greeks, Romans and Egyptians. And yet the people of Mr Makhlouf’s parents’ generation made their choices and moved to build new lives.
“My mother, who was born in Athens, had spent most of her life outside of Greece, but when my dad retired she came back,” he recalls. “My dad moved on and lived all over the world and settled in Greece at the end, before he passed away.”
Mr Makhlouf was born in Egypt but left at the age of three when his father joined the United Nations and moved to the Congo. Makhlouf pere’s time as an international diplomat exposed the young Gabriel to many cultures.
“My first language was French, because my parents’ mutual tongue was French,” he says. “So I learned English when I was about seven when we went to Bangladesh, and when we got to the Pacific we lived in Samoa.
“I went to school in Samoa. My parents then decided they ought to send me to boarding school if I was going to get a proper education and not one that changed every few years.”
Travelling during the school holidays from the school in England was a regular odyssey in itself. “The trip to get to Samoa and back to England involved stopping in Los Angeles, Honolulu and Pago Pago, an American territory pronounced ‘Pango Pango’,” he recalls.
“But then they moved to the Philippines, they moved to Fiji, they were in Ethiopia and they were in Thailand. So, you know, my brother and I got used to this life.”
It is a puzzle, then, to establish the appeal to the young Mr Makhlouf of embarking on a career as a Whitehall civil servant. He explains it as following his father’s footsteps in to the bureaucracy. Certainly, the career path was more about determination and making opportunities than wanderlust.
“I don’t think I joined the civil service for stability, to be honest, but maybe somewhere deep inside me there might have been that,” he says. “I joined the civil service really for interest. I joined as a tax inspector at the beginning. And it was an interesting career option – it involved law, it involved accountancy and it gave early opportunity to manage.”
Fate intervened to resume the family’s roving tradition when Mr Makhlouf was headhunted in 2010 to run New Zealand’s finance ministry, the Treasury. There, he was responsible for developing a measure of well-being as a replacement for the traditional gross domestic product yardstick.
In one memorable allusion in a speech he compared the role of an economist to that of an artisan, challenged with weaving together different strands of evidence into a structured framework.
Before upping sticks to the southern hemisphere, Mr Makhlouf at one point worked directly with then-UK chancellor Gordon Brown, who became prime minister at the time of the global financial crisis in 2008.
Asked about his former boss and a recent warning that the world now faces another lost decade or perhaps even worse than after that crash, Mr Makhlouf acknowledges how bad it was last time around but disagreed on the dangers now.
“I think that there is one massive difference between the crisis in 2008 and today’s crisis,” he says. “Which is that the crisis in 2008 was a crisis of the financial system, the financial system basically collapsed.
“Today, the financial system is still standing, and it’s the financial system that’s playing a very important role in supporting businesses and households through the pandemic and hopefully into a recovery and out the other end.”
World leaders are proving to be different kinds of players, having recognised that this is an economic crisis caused by a health crisis. “Governments throughout the world have chosen to close down economies for the sake of people’s health. In some respects that is been planned. In comparison to what happened in 2008 where actually events completely overwhelmed us.”
So Mr Brown’s fears are too pessimistic? “A lot of the changes and challenges that are ahead of us, I think if we manage them, then I think they can be managed well,” he says.
Mr Makhlouf takes heart from the rapid adjustment of businesses to home-working and new patterns of demand. “Economies across the world and certainly in the industrialised world have adapted to the restrictions,” he says. “More businesses are set up for that and more consumers were ready and knew how to proceed.”
The scale of “technological adaptation” since he accepted the Irish job in 2019 is something he could well have guessed was just around the corner.
The governor has not been immune to the extraordinary pressures imposed by lockdowns. Even at the outset of the pandemic, the family’s far-flung ways isolated him in Athens just as the 2,000-strong staff of the central bank in Dublin were forced to work from home.
With his mother ill in hospital, Mr Makhlouf was on hand to help her recover. “Effectively, I carried on working like everyone else via laptops and iPads. It’s quite an extraordinary thing that we all seem to have got used to.”
History means that a British citizen running the Irish central bank will always be a talking point. The moment that the UK left the EU put Mr Makhlouf in an invidious spot.
First, there is migration of businesses and banking activity from the City of London to Dublin so that firms remain within the EU umbrella. Is this an opportunity?
“Overall, I think the impact of Brexit is negative. It’s negative for Ireland and for the UK and for the EU,” he says. “We’re most exposed as a country in the agricultural sector, in particular. The fact that there was, at the end of the day, a deal albeit a very slim deal was better than there being no deal.
“On financial services, we have seen post-referendum a move of business from London to Dublin,” he agrees. “I’m not sure I would necessarily call it an opportunity at all. I think from my perspective as a regulator this increases the need for us to manage and ensure the financial system works properly.”
With his son, brother and wife’s relatives living in London, the governor observes that the pandemic has played a greater role than Brexit in cutting off families and friends. But things are different.
“I feel sorry for someone like my son — his opportunities to work in 27 other countries have now been limited. So his generation has lost out,” he says. “Ireland and Irish people have got many connections in the UK, we recognise Brexit has happened but those connections haven’t disappeared, they haven’t been lost.”
As two movie-perfect countries on the periphery of continents with roughly similar populations, one wonders what the biggest change is for Mr Makhlouf in switching from New Zealand to Ireland.
There is the remoteness of the former compared with the latter’s position within the wealthy European market. But the answer, he feels, is the perspective on China. In New Zealand, much time was spent thinking about and visiting that part of east Asia. He himself went at least nine times.
“The role that Asia has been playing and will play in the 21st century usually dominated a lot of thinking. And what’s interesting coming back to Europe, and perhaps now it’s not surprising at one level, but it was noticeable how little of our time was spent thinking about Asia.”
For the well-travelled, there is the unchanging truth that proximity is often the most powerful force in geography.
The lockdown both defines Gabriel Makhlouf’s job as Governor of the Irish central bank and provides a perspective on the decades of movement and upheaval that have brought him where he is today. Courtesy Central Bank of Ireland
After a decade in the business, Lebanese couturier Jean-Louis Sabaji has dressed some of the biggest celebrities, including Beyoncé and Rita Ora.
His headline-grabbing creations regularly grace red carpet events across the world. Who can forget Cardi B’s purple floor-length gown bursting with feathers at the shoulders she wore to the 2021 American Music Awards? Or Aishwarya Rai Bachchan’s iridescent foiled leather dress at Cannes in 2019.
Sabaji’s fascination with fashion was inherited from his late father Jean, also a designer. He grew up surrounded by beautiful dresses in his father’s atelier, from which he still works today.
“I was named Jean-Louis after the great Jean-Louis Scherrer, a very famous French designer — it was as if I was destined to be a designer from birth,” he says. “As a kid, I used to make miniature dresses for Barbie dolls. My dad encouraged me to keep doing this, unlike others who bullied me for dressing dolls.
Sabaji completed his undergraduate degree in graphic design at the Lebanese American University and later attended the Domus Academy Milano for his master’s degree in fashion design. After completing his master’s with distinction, he came back to Lebanon and worked on his first collection in 2012.
Given that he already had access to an atelier with experienced seamstresses — as well as the fact that fashion had been such a large part of his upbringing — launching his own brand wasn’t too tough. But getting anyone to notice was a different matter.
“Lebanon has a lot of designers, so to stand out in a country with that much talent was hard. Additionally, I’m not very commercial. I target a niche clientele with my conceptual designs, so that made it more challenging,” he says.
He started by diving straight into the haute couture category. He didn’t get into ready-to-wear collections until much later. “I’d been taught that, in fashion, you work from top to bottom,” he explains.
Once his name was well established, both regionally and globally, he branched out into ready-to-wear, producing his first collection in 2021.
“During the pandemic, we understood the market better. We needed to have more clients, so that’s when we launched the ready-to-wear.”
Sabaji loves to push the boundaries when it comes to daring designs. In 2013, he created a gown that looked like it was engulfed in a cloud of smoke — an idea inspired by wildfires in Lebanon that wrecked some of the country’s rural areas. “I used silk organza and airbrushed it to mimic smoke and the effect that ink has when it’s mixed in water,” he says.
Complex garment construction and meticulous hand embroidery are the backbones of his creations. “It’s very important to me that a dress holds the woman’s body properly for her to feel confident. That’s when it comes down to pattern making, the construction and the corsets inside the dresses,” he explains.
Another of Sabaji’s signatures is the use of feathers, which appear in almost all of his collections, whether used sparingly on the sleeves or as an explosion covering the entire dress.
“Feathers are so feminine. The way they move on the body is very romantic,” he says. “Growing up, we had a house in the mountains with a huge garden with a lot of animals and birds. I was always inspired by these beautiful creatures.”
Sabaji is very particular about animal welfare, so the feathers he uses are all natural falls and are ethically sourced from specific farms, he stresses.
Gradually, his contemporary interpretation of classic couture fused with edgy elements and glamour sparked the interest of international stylists. In 2018, Mary J Blige chose a dramatic black-and-white Sabaji gown to wear to the SAG awards — his first major celebrity endorsement. Just months later, Beyoncé wore his ‘Sphinx Abaya’ mini-dress with train for a major gala in Los Angeles. At Cannes the following year, Aishwarya Rai Bachchan’s edgy fluorescent gown was all over the news. Crafted from 18 meters of stiff foiled leather that mimicked snakeskin, the dress took 200 hours to create and came with its own set of challenges.
“Initially, we had some issues with the fit because it was a stiff dress made out of leather, so it wasn’t easy to alter. Up to the last minute, we weren’t sure if she was going to walk the red carpet in the dress, but Aishwarya has a very good team, so, ultimately, they managed to sort it out,” Sabaji says.
2022 has been a remarkable year for the designer. Not only did he celebrate the tenth anniversary of his label’s creation and sign up for a major partnership (details of which are still under wraps — all he will say is that it’s “big”), but he was also the first Middle Eastern designer to collaborate with Mattel for a special Barbie collection which he presented at Arab Fashion Week in Dubai last month — a full-circle moment for the kid who was bullied for dressing up dolls.
“Everyone had a smile on their face watching the show. And for me, it was full of emotions. I had tears in my eyes the entire time backstage,” Sabaji says. “Barbie is a childhood memory, and seeing all this on the runway was so nostalgic.”
source/content: arabnews.com (headline edited)
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Sabaji completed his undergraduate degree in graphic design at the Lebanese American University. (Supplied)
When the young George Kanaan wasn’t helping out in the family businesses, he was often to be found in a village classroom analysing the Shakespearean concepts of destiny and fate. His own was to take the helm of the Arab Bankers’ Association.
From the age of 8, the bell at the end of each school day sent George Kanaan wending purposefully through his ancient village in Mount Lebanon to pitch in at the family grocery store and builder’s merchants.
His father, Elias, spent the mornings running a wholesale business from the port before heading 20 kilometres south-east of Beirut to Souk El Gharb, where the young George would help to buy tobacco supplies or oversee the loading of bags filled with cement.
“To think I was a grocer’s son,” Mr Kanaan, now 76 and the chief executive of the Arab Bankers’ Association in London, tells The National.
It was an idyllic childhood that has left him full of memories of playing safely with his brothers, Pierre and Adel, on quiet streets in the shadows cast by the pine trees of the Aley district.
The cooler climes of the prosperous resort were popular with wealthy outsiders seeking respite from the humid countries of the Arabian Gulf – the kind of high society that Mr Kanaan would subsequently spend decades working for and with.
These days, accompanied by his second wife, Soulaf, he spends 60 per cent of the year at ABA’s head office in Mayfair, rubbing shoulders with the banking elite, and the rest reconnecting with his roots at the office in Beirut.
But ask him if he considers himself Lebanese or British, and he retorts: “I’m more English and Lebanese. I don’t like to say which one as I am equally part of both cultures and I like both completely.”
The dual curriculums at his secondary school, set up by western missionaries, focused heavily on discipline and English literature, which is how he came to study Macbethat the age of 15.
“There is no better way of identifying with a culture than identifying with one of its greatest literary figures,” Mr Kanaan says.
“To some extent, we lived with Shakespeare. We had to concentrate on one play, remember it by heart and be able to write analyses of concepts like destiny and fate. By the time we left school, we were seriously educated.”
He credits the influences of both parents for standing him in good stead in life. His mother, Rose, a French school teacher until she married, ensured that her three sons worked hard academically while his father encouraged their entrepreneurial skills.
So much so that when a professor at Harvard Business School asked his MBA students how to prepare a business bid, Mr Kanaan drew upon Elias’s success at winning an annual contract to supply the French army with food.
“When the professor called on me to open up the discussion, I told him how to do it. He looked at me completely stunned, then said: ‘First, what should we do with the rest of the 80 minutes, and second who told you this kind of stuff?”
Mr Kanaan read civil engineering at the American University of Beirut for four years, with his studies including summer internships in the mountains learning surveying work, and driving tractors and bulldozers.
He was awarded a fellowship to take a master’s in civil and environment engineering at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh, a city that shattered the idolised perceptions of the US built up by the Hollywood movies he watched as a child.
“If you turned on the taps in Pittsburgh, the water was yellow,” he recalls. “If you opened the window of the dormitory, you died of the smoke from the steelworks, and if you swam in the rivers you spent two weeks in hospital because the water was so polluted.”
Despite the disappointment, the course led to a job working at the think tank The Eno Centre for Transportation, which later netted him an invitation to Harvard Business School in 1973.
But his time at the prestigious institution coincided with a deterioration in his father’s health. When Mr Kanaan confided in his professor a desire to return to Beirut, the academic secured him a job at Citibank.
By then he was married to Catherine Sloane, an American he met during a French speaking class in 1970, and the mother of his now three grown-up children, Zizi, Elia and Danny.
With the move to Beirut imminent, Catherine went ahead to make preparations, arriving on the fateful day of April 13, 1975, when two sectarian incidents outside the Church of Notre Dame de la Delivrance – a drive-by shooting and a retaliatory bus attack – became the sparks that set off the civil war.
As the crisis deepened, the family instead relocated to Athens, where Citibank moved its regional base. But it meant that Mr Kanaan never had a chance to say goodbye to the father he had so admired.
“I discovered weeks later that he died. My family kept it from me because things were uncomfortable in the country and they did not want me to rush back.”
It has been difficult watching Lebanon and its many struggles since. The country is barely recognisable as the one of his youth when he used to read the parliamentary debates – published verbatim in the newspapers – to his father, whose eyesight was failing.
“He took great pleasure listening to me. I remember how intently and carefully he followed the minutes,” he says. “Lebanon at the time was a very thriving democracy.”
There is a deep belief within him that the country can be brought back from the brink but that would require, he says, a political coalescence before the economy can begin to be rescued.
He wishes he could be complimentary about Lebanon’s banking system. But what was once a jewel in the economic crown has been paralysed since a collapse in 2019, when strict withdrawal limits were imposed and transfers abroad banned after decades of unsustainable state spending and corruption.
“I always thought the Lebanese were really fine bankers,” he laments, “but fine bankers don’t end up in the mess Lebanon has.
“When I ran a bank, I thought I would rather die than see any of my depositors lose a penny and to think of the calamity that has befallen people who deposited money in Lebanese banks. The financial system is a catastrophe.”
His career took him to Riyadh, where he worked in the bank’s contracting division before the financial institution became Saudi American Bank, commonly known as Samba, by royal decree in 1980.
With Arab bankers increasingly in demand, he landed a job at the London arm of First Chicago, the US commercial bank, in 1984 as executive director in charge of the Middle East and North Africa region.
“We had a ball, coming to London,” he says. “It was a senior job that paid well so they put me and the family up in a Savoy suite for six weeks. That was a nice entry into the UK.”
The family moved into a three-storey, 7,000 sq ft upper maisonette off Sloane Square, a temporary solution while a search was under way for a permanent home.
“It had a grand staircase and a living room that could accommodate 100,” says Mr Kanaan.
“We were supposed to be there for about a year but we left 14 years later. We had a fantastic time living in one of the best addresses in London, with the children studying at American School of London.”
As ever, Mr Kanaan’s career was focused on the Arab world, and within three years he was back working for Citibank to build Samba’s presence in the UK capital.
By the time he left, five years later, he had established Samba Capital Management International, a portfolio management business “with $3.5bn of funds”.
Next came a stint with Saudi Arabia’s Prince Khalid bin Sultan bin Abdulaziz Al Saud, co-commander with General Norman Schwarzkopf of the allied forces during the first Gulf War.
As the chief executive of Makshaff, Mr Kanaan divided his time between Riyadh, Geneva and London, responsible for the prince’s personal affairs, staff, luxury homes around the world, private yacht and jet.
“Working in a job like that, I’m not exaggerating when I say I had breakfast on one flight, lunch on another and dinner on the third flight,” he says. “It was non-stop.”
The long hours took their toll on his first marriage, and thoughts turned to retirement at the age of 50 but it’s hard to conceive that giving up work altogether was ever a serious option.
There were dabblings in “failed” entrepreneurial ventures, such as a restaurant chain and a financial business in Cyprus, as well as a more successful mortgage brokerage company.
He spent much time indulging his passion for amassing a personal library of books connected to the Levant, Egypt and Iraq, with a preference for writings about the region by Europeans.
“I have a phenomenal collection – 1,000 books from the 1500s onwards – and some are so rare,” Mr Kanaan says.
Perhaps unsurprisingly for a former banker, another enthusiasm is for old paper money, the acquisition of which he equates to philately except that notes are larger than postage stamps and carry more historical information.
“I started in 1985, collecting anything Arabic, but it became too unwieldy. So I sold everything not from Lebanon, Syria and North Africa at an auction about 10 years ago. I made so much money, it’s a joke.”
Mr Kanaan’s return to the banking sector came in 2009, when asked to head the ABA as the world was dusting itself down from the global financial crisis.
The association was set up in 1975 when bankers running regional offices in Beirut flocked to London to escape the civil war. These Palestinians, Egyptians, Syrians and Iraqis brought with them regional expertise as well as contact books filled with the names of central bank governors, and oil and finance ministers.
“With that knowledge, they became the most sought-after people in the world because they had access to key people in the Arab region – which was not as accessible as it is now.
“Lunches at the association became really quite important, the place to meet if you wanted to do anything with the Arab world. There was a lot of business to be done because the price of oil had gone through the roof and the money was flowing like you would not believe.”
But things had begun to change by the time that Mr Kanaan was sitting on the board during his years at Samba. The term “Arab bankers” itself had become a thing of the past. The bankers were now British, American, Indian, Pakistani, whose careers concentrated on the Arab world.
When Mr Kanaan took the helm, the evolution went further as the ABA became a professional body connecting anyone with an interest in the Arab banking sector, not only Arab bankers themselves.
Now, the Arab Banker magazine has been revived, the website revamped, and membership expanded beyond Arab banks to include global institutions such as HSBC, BNY Mellon along with service providers like law firms, auditors and consultants.
The events calendar is still full but has pivoted to professional content about property, financial crime or trade finance with speakers from the Financial Conduct Authority or the Central Bank invited, while the social side burgeons with iftars, Christmas parties and gala dinners.
For the grocer’s son whose work ethic was first instilled as an 8-year-old, there seems little sign yet of Mr Kanaan putting his feet up.
“It’s a full-time job but this kind of work is fun,” he says. “The members are my friends, and I’ve been in this industry for more than 40 years, so why retire?”
Read on for a list of regional female filmmakers who have been taking the industry by storm.
Farida Khelfa
Farida Khelfa is an Algerian-French documentary filmmaker. She is currently set to release a new film titled “From The Other Side of the Veil” that aims to dismantle misconceptions and stereotypes that often surround Arab women.
Kaouther Ben Hania
The Tunisian filmmaker made headlines in the film industry after her critically acclaimed movie “The Man Who Sold His Skin” was shortlisted for the Oscar’s Best International Feature Film award this year.
Ayten Amin
The Egyptian director has long chronicled the lives of women in modern Egypt. Her feature film “Souad” was selected for the cancelled 2020 Cannes Film Festival.
Danielle Arbid
Danielle Arbid is a Lebanese filmmaker. Her work has screened at numerous film festivals in France and the rest of the world, including New York, San Francisco, Tokyo and more.
Annemarie Jacir
The Palestinian filmmaker has written, produced and directed award-winning films such as “A Post Oslo History.” Her movie “Wajib” (2017) won her 18 international awards.
Nujoom Al-Ghanem
The Emirati filmmaker, writer and poet had to overcome societal stigma and family disapproval to make it. She defied the odds and produced films such as “Amal” (2011) and “Sounds of the Sea” (2015).
‘The Sandman’ star will be the face of its women’s collections in the Middle East.
Building on an already stellar year, Lebanese British actress Razane Jammal has been announced as Dior’s latest ambassador. She will be the face of its women’s collections in the Middle East.
The announcement was complemented by a fashion shoot featuring Jammal in some of the house’s latest creations. She is no stranger to the world of high fashion — the actress was previously an ambassador for Chanel.
“I’m so unbelievably excited to finally announce that I will be joining Dior as a brand ambassador in the Middle East,” Jammal wrote on Instagram.
“Ever since I joined the fashion community, I wanted to collaborate with people I can truly grow with, to join a family that I value as much as it values me. It’s been a long journey but I can confidently say I’ve found my home.
“This is the start of a wonderful collaboration. I cannot wait to embody the timeless creations of @mariagraziachiuri.”
This is yet another mark of Jammal’s upward trajectory. She stars in the highest-grossing film in Egyptian history, Kira & El Gin, and is one of the key characters in Netflix’s hugely popular new show The Sandman.
“It’s been a very crazy couple of years,” she told The National in a recent interview. “But I’m very happy that the hard work has paid off.”
Fluent in Arabic, French and English, Jammal’s first serious foray into acting was in the French-German feature Carlos in 2010. This was followed by Cruel Summer in 2012, a short film by Kanye West, and then Une histoire de fou in 2014 by director Robert Guediguian. All three projects had their world premiere at the Cannes Film Festival.
Based on 1919, the novel by Egyptian writer Ahmed Mourad, and directed by Marwan Hamed, Kira & El Gin is an action drama that chronicles the 1919 revolution against the British occupation of Egypt and Sudan.
The Sandman is based on Neil Gaiman’s groundbreaking graphic novel series.
The experience has been a bittersweet one for Jammal, she told The National, as her mother died last year while The Sandman was being filmed.
“We were filming during Covid-19 in London. We were following very strict Covid-19 protocols and I wasn’t allowed to travel. So I didn’t go back home for eight months after losing my mum. My mum was the most important person in my life. She was a single mum, we had a very close relationship.”
The dance troupe’s victory, which earned them the seven-figure prize , offered a sliver of hope to the country and its population, who continue to battle a flurry of crises and bad news.
“We haven’t shed happy tears in so long in this country and Mayyas made it happen,” says Reem Nasra, 24, a recruiter in Beirut.
Mayyas first made international headlines when they received a golden buzzer from judge Sofia Vergara for their performance during the auditions, securing their spot in the semi-finals.
“There are no words to explain to you what we were feeling over here,” Vergara said at the time. “It was the most beautiful, creative dancing I have ever seen.”
Since then, the Lebanese group put on a series of breathtaking routines as they advanced to the final. And, their journey to the top connected with compatriots around the world.
“They are an example of what a synchronised group of Lebanese are able to achieve,” says Eli Lattouf, 26, a postdoctoral researcher at Harvard Medical School in the US. “Such a win delivers a global message.”
Lebanon is currently facing an economic crisis described as one of the worst in 150 years by the World Bank. According to a UN study, the financial collapse has pushed more than 80 per cent of the population into poverty while inflation and living expenses reached record highs.
The country’s plight has made global news, highlighting everything from its fuel crisis to the deadly Beirut port blast in 2020.
To see Lebanon represented in a different light, as a beacon of art and culture, was refreshing, says Lattouf.
“Most people know the Lebanon they see on the news, which might not be totally misleading, unfortunately,” he tells The National. “This time the world sees not one, but a group of Lebanese, full of art, creativity and discipline.”
Lattouf’s sentiment is echoed by many other Lebanese people, who are proud of the group’s outstanding representation on a global platform.
“This is our Lebanon, the real one,” says Rima Hijazi, 26.
Watching from her home in Choueifat, south-east of Beirut, the agricultural engineer fortunately had electricity overnight to stream the final live. Many other households across Lebanon were without power, which prompted private TV station LBCI to campaign for generator owners to keep the lights on ahead of the show.
Lebanon’s electricity crisis is merely one of the many obstacles Mayyas had to overcome while rehearsing.
Despite the many hindrances, the girls put in long hours of work, determined to grab the title.
According to the group’s founder and choreographer Nadim Cherfan, the team were in the studio on a daily basis and would “only leave when the power goes off”.
“When it’s about art, nothing stands in your way,” he previously told The National.
Their hard work and diligence made them all the more deserving of the win, according to many Lebanese. It is also testament to the country’s potential, despite the odds.
“This win means that despite everything we are going through, our will to live and be successful beats all miseries,” says Yara Youssef, 25, a marketing coordinator in Beirut.
Between pride and hope, Mayyas also evoked a solemn feeling for some.
“It’s a bit sad knowing that if you have potential here in Lebanon, you have to leave in order to reach your goals,” Hijazi tells The National. “We’re in the wrong spot to bloom.”
But despite their international achievement, Mayyas are returning to Lebanon, where they will continue to work on their art.
While Cherfan has been asked why he continues to work in Beirut, he is adamant on going back to where they started.
“I’m never leaving my country because my country has never left me,” he says.
Watch the moment Mayyas won on ‘America’s Got Talent’ here (below):
The Forum de Beyrouth played host to a glittering showcase of Lebanese talent on Sunday night as model, journalism student and show host Yasmina Zaytoun was crowned Miss Lebanon 2022, almost four years after the last edition of the pageant.
The host of the educational online platform the @WITHYASMINASHOW beat out fellow contestants Maya Abou El-Hassan, who finished as first runner-up, Jacintha Rashed, who was named second runner up, and Lara Hraoui and Dalal Hoballah who were voted in fourth and fifth place, respectively.
Zaytoun is from the village of Kfarchouba in southern Lebanon and is currently studying at Notre Dame University — Louaize. She hosts an Instagram show titled the “With Yasmina Show,” where she interviews media and sports personalities, including politician Paula Yacoubian and actress Enjy Kiwan.
Delayed by years of crises in Lebanon, the much anticipated the show featured 17 candidates from various cities and regions who wowed a judging panel consisting of music composer Michel Fadel, influencer Karen Wazen, General Manager of IP Studios Mohamad Yehya, Miss World 2022 Karolina Bielawska, General Manager of Al-Nahar and Al-Nahar Al-Arabi Nayla Tueni, Caracala dance theatre director Ivan Caracala, TV host Hilda Khalife, and Miss Lebanon 1993 Samaya Chedrawi, who was on hand to represent the Ministry of Tourism.
“Tonight, we’re celebrating Lebanon, not just Miss Lebanon,” Tueni said, explaining the importance of the event.
“Celebrating Lebanon that we miss, the beautiful country, the life in Lebanon. This is the most beautiful image of the real people, the real Lebanese that are suffering and trying to survive. This is a very important message, and I hope that Lebanon will rise again with a very positive message. We will stay strong because we love Lebanon,” she added, noting that the new beauty queen has to “be the voice of the Lebanese people.”
Hosted by Lebanese actress and TV host Aimee Sayah, the event also featured a performance by Lebanese singing icon Nancy Ajram, who started with a rendition of “Ila Beirut Al Ontha” in a tribute to the city, before surprising her fans with “Salmat Salamat” and a performance of her new song “Sah Sah,” which was produced by US DJ Marshmello.
Ajram invited her audience to support Lebanon in the “good and the bad,” adding: “I never thought about how to love Lebanon. There’s no rule as to how you can love your country. I love Lebanon till the end.”
Sayah was dressed by famed Lebanese designer Georges Hobeika, fresh off his runway presentation at Paris Haute Couture Week in July while contestants showed off a number of glamorous looks, including evening gowns and bathing suits, and also demonstrated their ability to keep a cool head under pressure by addressing a range of social issues on stage.
Those issues included divorce, fragmented families, women abuse and violence — both verbal and physical — access to healthcare and education, and women’s empowerment, among others.
The lucky few hit the stage after being prepped and primped by the best in the business, including celebrity makeup artist Bassam Fattouh and hairstylist Wassim Morkos.
Previous Miss Lebanon Maya Reaidy, who was crowned in September 2018, passed the title and the tiara on to her successor, bringing her almost four-year-reign to an end after a series of crises forced the event to be postponed.
In the run up to the event, billboards dotted roads in Beirut and beyond with the slogan “We missed celebrating Lebanon’s beauty,” which played into the wider #WeMissLebanon campaign touted by the event organizers, The Lebanese Broadcasting Corporation International (LBCI) and The Ministry of Tourism.
Organizers also released a glamorous advert featuring a number of the contestants posing in daring outfits, with stunning aerial views of Lebanese tourist hotspots interspersed throughout the 48-second video.
The ceremony reflected the same celebration of the country through the music, which was chosen by Fadel, the setup and decoration with take home flowers.
Chairman and CEO of the Miss World organization Julia Morley, Miss World 2021 Karolina Bielawska from Poland, the first runner-up Miss USA Shree Saini, and Miss World 2019 Toni-Ann Singh from Jamaica and Miss World Events Director Stephen Douglas Morley were also in attendance.
“I have travelled quite a lot and I find that the people are the heart of every country. I can honestly say that Lebanese people are so beautiful and so warm, and even though I’m miles away from my own country Jamaica I feel at home,” Singh said.
The winner was selected from a pool of candidates chosen for their beauty and brains at auditions held between December 2021 and February 2022, with Lebanese young women aged between the ages of 18 and 27 invited to participate.
source/content: arabnews.com
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Journalism student and host of @WITHYASMINASHOW Yasmina Zaytoun with her Miss Lebanon 2022 crown. (Arab News/ Alex Spoerndli)
