Gino's Podcast

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 billion out of the roughly $100 billion lost since 2019.)As for the big depositors, who held the majority of the money before the banks shut their doors (except for politicians and bankers) in October 2019, let them show the now-empowered banking oversight committee how they got their money. For those who made it legally, it should be a piece of cake: bring the receipts, get your money back. For those who made it illegally, I assume they’ll probably just stay quiet about it, and that money doesn’t need to be paid back by selling state assets or making us, the taxpayers, clean up the mess to make the thieves and corrupt politically exposed people’s portfolios whole again.Then, in the upcoming elections, when we get even more MPs who are not part of the Mafia-Militia, we can finally start to criminally pursue all the big depositors who didn’t come forward to prove their money was clean. But for now, we can at least stop returning the spoils to the thieves. And hopefully, we can return the retirement accounts of so many honest Lebanese who got screwed over by the buffoons copy-pasting 2015 Twitter conspiracies to try and throw wool over everyone’s eyes, from the Trump administration to the smallest depositor wondering if they’ll ever see their money again.Things are changing. The world is changing. The hope of the Mafia existing without the Militia is gone. It’s never too late to course-correct. Not everything is spin, and smear campaigns might get you trending on Twitter, but they won’t change the reality on the ground. And one last thing: khayyeh, shba3o.You’ve made so much illegally, and you’ve never paid for it. That’s a pretty good deal. Just take the L and stop trying to steal even more by using Assadist and Hezbollah tactics of threats, lies, and intimidation, the same tactics you always pretended to be against.Shba3o.Is the pro-Mafia and pro-Banks elite minority really willing to let Hezbollah slowly regroup, just for the chance to make a quick buck by ripping off the Lebanese taxpayers, or at the very least, keep what they stole and have us bail out the banking system?When does the short-sighted greed become too much to live with? Weren’t they supposed to be against Hezbollah, like they groveled in front of President Trump? Now you’re trying to lie to the US administration to keep this cash economy going and give Hezbollah a lifeline just when it’s finally giving up, all to protect the dirty money you illegally moved around and now can’t anymore because of the amendments that were passed, despite your desperate, and quite honestly pathetic, attempts to smear everyone but the perpetrators.Not this time. Course correct. Do the right thing for once.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 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 vulnerability to populist rhetoric. Public discourse should encourage critical thinking about political leaders' actions rather than blind allegiance based on sectarian identity or historical grievances.Lebanon must reconsider its political structures and governance systems to ensure broader representation and reduce sectarian tensions. Decentralization and municipal empowerment can directly respond to local needs, fostering genuine community participation in governance. Localized government not only makes leaders more accountable but also facilitates quicker responses to citizens' needs, increasing satisfaction with public services and governance overall.Ultimately, Lebanon needs fewer heroes and more institutions. We must choose systemic stability and civic unity over idolizing charismatic figures who perpetuate cycles of conflict and division. Real strength doesn't comes from tolerating suffering but from actively building accountable, transparent, and inclusive systems that truly serve us all, not serve one group over all the others like the three examples I talked about today did.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

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 who don’t care enough. It needs people who are unapologetically alive in what they love.So go ahead—live. And if someone tells you "ma t3isha", smile and say, "Yeah, I do."Gino's Blog is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. ginoraidy.substack.com Get full access to Gino's Blog at ginoraidy.substack.com/subscribe