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1 The Road to a Special Regime in Mount Lebanon
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1
The Road to a Special Regime in Mount Lebanon

"Mount Lebanon" was once the name of the northern ridges of the range of mountains and hills stretching along the Mediterranean coast from the Barid River in the north to the Zahrani River in the south. Eventually the name came to cover roughly the entire mountain range, today also called the Lebanon Mountains.[1] When a special administrative regime, the mutasarrifiyya , was established here in 1861, it appeared only natural to call this area Mount Lebanon, or simply "The Mountain." This designation by a single name reflected its unification into a distinct entity, just as did its placement under a unified administration. But this was a result of at least twenty years of internal strife and clashes, culminating in a violent civil war in 1860. How did these seemingly contradictory developments, toward integration on the one hand, and civil strife on the other, come about? In this chapter I will try to answer this question.

Geography

Mount Lebanon, in the broader sense of the term, indeed has distinctive topographical features. It rises steeply from a very thin coastal strip, reaches imposing heights within 15–20 miles of the coast, and falls to the plains of Ba'lbak and Biqa' on the east, mostly in precipitous slopes. On the north and south it descends through a series of ridges to merge with the plateaus of 'Akkar, and Jabal 'Amil, respectively. As these features separate Mount Lebanon from the world around it, other features divide it internally. Thanks to heavy winter precipitation and considerable snow melt, Mount Lebanon is exceptionally well watered. Water absorbed by its porous higher limestone strata is forced to the surface near the outcrops of basaltic and sandstone layers at an average altitude of 3,000–4,000 feet in perennial and often copious springs. These springs and the gullies they


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form feed a number of streams and rivers that, as they rush toward the sea, cut deep ravines and gorges, dividing the Mountain into sharply separated regional enclaves (see Map 1).[2]

Before the advent of modern technology, this tortuous terrain severely limited travel and transportation both within the Mountain areas and between them and neighboring lowland settlements. Tripoli in the north and Saida (Sidon) in the south were the major towns with which the mountaineers remained in contact. Tripoli was the outlet of an agriculturally rich hinterland of its own, and the major international port in the region until about the mid-sixteenth century. Under Ottoman rule, from 1516 onward, Saida began to outshine Tripoli. Saida became the main port of Damascus, the economic and political capital of southern "Syria."[3] Between the orbits of Tripoli and Saida, the Mountain was further divided into a northern zone, economically and administratively attached to Tripoli, and a southern zone linked to Saida. A little river flowing into the bay of Junia, the Mu'amalatain, marked the formal border between the two zones.[4]

Beirut's central location on the coast placed it in a position to serve the middle parts of the Mountain as a market town where local products and produce were exchanged for commodities brought from distant lands via Saida and Tripoli. Dair al-Qamar, in the heart of the south, played a similar role on a much more modest scale. It served as a relay station for the storage and distribution of commodities coming from and bound for Saida and, to a lesser extent, Beirut and the Biqa' valley. Zahla, overlooking the fertille Biqa' valley on the east and only a short distance from Damascus, was another commercial center of some significance. Indeed, when the traffic between Damascus and the coast began to shift away from the Wadi al-Taim—Saida route to the Zahla-Beirut route in the last quarter of the eighteenth century, Zahla rapidly developed into a sizable town.

Simultaneously, commercial relations acquired a greater importance in the Mountain's economy. Even before these changes, people inhabiting the relatively gentler slopes and piedmonts near Tripoli, Saida, and Beirut (or Kura, Kharrub, and Gharb, to be more specific) evidently marketed some of their produce in these towns. Also, production of raw silk and silk cocoons was a major source of cash for almost all parts of the Mountain. But commerce and cash played only a minor role in the lives of most mountaineers. The dearth of regular market towns attests to this point. Even at the beginning of the nineteenth century, Dair al-Qamar's population was around 4,000, that of Zahla around 1,000, and the population of Beirut, including its suburbs, had hardly yet reached 8,000 and was probably as low as 6,000.[5]


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Map 1.
Traditional Districts of Mount Lebanon and Their Relationship to Land 
Formations (based on Leon Marfoe, "The Integrative Transformation: 
Patterns of Sociopolitical Organization in Southern Syria,"  Bulletin of the 
American Schools of Oriental Research 
234 [1979]:26).


9

The People

Small self-sufficient villages built along the springs and gullies high on the Mountain's various enclaves characterized its settlement landscape. Thanks to the arduous efforts of many generations, the soil was fixed on the hillsides by careful terracing. Development and maintenance of these terraces and the irrigation of fields required cooperation among the villages benefiting from a network of water resources. Since variations in altitude facilitated the cultivation of a variety of crops and fruit with varying harvest schedules, the villagers were able to help one another and also barter their produce. A large family or a clan of related families commanding sufficient land, labor, and water resources could live a basically self-contained life, with due cooperation from its neighbors. The need to cooperate for survival, however, also caused quarrels. When a party breached others' rights or failed to fulfill its responsibilities, internecine clashes between families, clans, villages or neighboring hills could easily erupt. The serene life of the mountaineers in their rough but truly beautiful environment was thus interrupted at times by outbursts of violence. Still, communal ties among the inhabitants of a village and between neighboring villages remained traditionally strong.[6]

Shared religious beliefs reinforced communal ties, and vice versa. The Mountain was a haven for heterodox groups.[7] In the past, several such groups settled its different regions and managed to preserve their sectarian identity in an environment that by and large isolated and protected them from external influences and pressure. A case in point is that of the Maronites, who until about the late sixteenth century were concentrated in the northern enclaves of Bsharri, Batrun, and Jubail, or "Mount Lebanon" in its original, narrower sense. They were the descendants of an Arab, or Arabized, and Christian people, probably a tribal group, whom the Byzantines drove out of the Orontes valley onto the highlands of "Mount Lebanon" in the late tenth century. Little is known about the Christian doctrines the Maronites originally professed, though it is certain they had reasons to reject the Byzantine Church. Once in the Mountain, they eventually identified themselves with Catholicism and formed one of the first Uniate churches. The first contacts between the Maronite clergy and the Vatican date from the thirteenth century. It was only after the late sixteenth century, however, that relations between the Maronite clergy and the Vatican acquired a degree of regularity, and only during the eighteenth century did the Maronite Church become properly institutionalized. Meanwhile, the Maronites lived a basically introverted life organized in egalitarian peasant communities upon the ruggedest and roughest parts of


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the Mountain. Tripoli was their main window onto the larger world. This situation began to change, however, as the Maronites moved southward in steadily increasing numbers from the late sixteenth century onward. In the 1860s they formed close to 60 percent of the Mountain's population.[8]

In their move to the south, the Maronites often settled the lands vacated by the so-called mutawâlî Shiites or mixed with them. Shiism represents an alternative interpretation of the Islamic historical experience to that held by the main, Sunni, line. It emphasizes social justice and equity, as opposed to the Sunni emphasis on social stability and conformism, and tends to view state power as a corruptive force. From the seventh century on, opposition movements against established governments in Islamic lands often adopted a Shiite outlook. In Syria, as elsewhere, mountains served as strongholds for Shiite movements of one version or another, and Lebanon's mountains were no exception. There were pockets of Shiites in the north among the Maronites, but they were mostly concentrated in the central and southern ports of the Mountain, tilling the hills of Matn and Kisrawan and the approaches to Saida. Caught up in the intermittent struggles that the potentates of Saida and Tripoli, and their allies, waged to gain supremacy over one another during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the Shiites dispersed. They also suffered at times from the suspicions of the Sunni establishments controlling the major power centers in the region. As some Shiites left the Mountain to regroup elsewhere and others converted to Sunnism, their numbers dwindled. In the 1860s they constituted less than 6 percent of the Mountain's population.[9]

It was an alliance of predominantly Druze chieftains led by the governor of Saida, Fakhr al-Din bin Kormaz Ma'n, which finally gained firm control of the central and southern hills of the Mountain in the early seventeenth century. The Druze themselves adhere to a highly gnostic and esoteric version of Shiism that combines Islamic teachings with Hellenistic, Iranian, and other Eastern pre-Islamic religious traditions. After originating in Ismaili Egypt in the early eleventh century, the Druze sect met its only enduring success among the Shiites of Shuf in the Mountain and the neighboring Wadi al-Taim. Even there the Druze stopped proselytizing, in principle, within a few decades. Thereafter they married internally and developed into a cohesive group whose members were bound to one another by blood ties and a strong sense of solidarity. The full secrets of the sect were revealed only to a few, properly initiated, "sages" ('uqqâl ). These custodians of the Druze religious and cultural traditions commanded great respect in the community and helped to maintain the social order by acting as arbiters of disputes. Although certain families excelled


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in the number of "sages" they produced, the Druze religious leadership did not form a caste. The leaders shared in the toils of the community as ordinary members. It was defense and other military ventures that propelled a few families into aristocratic status.[10]

From an early point in the history of their community, the Druze seem to have earned a reputation as valiant warriors. Clearly, both the Mamluk and Ottoman governors ruling in the Damascus area sought to employ the Druze in their service rather than to wage war against them, insofar as this was possible. The Druze were in a position to disturb the neighboring lowland settlements and trade roads from their strongholds on the Mountain, and they did not hesitate to do so if they felt challenged or saw a reasonably safe opportunity to supplement their income. In the sixteenth century, the Ottoman governors of Damascus acknowledged the military capacity of the Druze. After protracted and costly efforts to subdue them, which sometimes amounted to brutal repression, the Ottomans finally settled for a compromise.

In 1593, they appointed the powerful Druze chieftain Fakhr al-Din Ma'n as the amir (military governor) of Saida, recognized the Ma'ns as the paramount Druze clan, and let the Druze have their way in the Mountain as long as they kept their allegiance to the Ottoman system and helped keep the communications of Damascus and other towns in the area unhampered. With the government's weight behind him and the revenue of Saida in his service, Amir Fakhr al-Din made himself a powerful ruler in an area that included virtually all of today's Lebanon and northern Palestine. He brought under his control all the ports of the Damascus province and hence its maritime trade with Egypt, Anatolia, and Europe. Complaints from Damascene merchants and notables finally prompted the central government to act against him. He was arrested in 1633 and executed two years later.[11]

After Fakhr al-Din's demise, the power network he had built instantly dissolved, except in the central and southern parts of the Mountain and Wadi al-Taim. Here the new set of relationships generated by Fakhr al-Din's powerful position as the governor of Saida endured. A degree of stability was finally restored to the hills of Kisrawan, Matn, and Jazzin. Druze and Maronite peasants settled these areas, along with the remaining Shiites. All evidence indicates that until the beginning of the nineteenth century a liberal and mutually tolerant atmosphere prevailed in the resultant mixed communities.[12]

In fact, yet another dissident group, the Uniate Melchites, were attracted to the Mountain by its religiously tolerant atmosphere as well


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as by its growing economic potential. The Uniate Melchites—or "Greek" Catholics, as they were commonly called in the region—were dissenters from the churches of Antioch and Jerusalem, which were affiliated to the "Greek" or Rum (that is, [East] Roman, Byzantine) Orthodox Patriarchate. In the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, cautious but effective activities of Catholic missionaries devoted to the Counter-Reformation recruited many sympathizers and devotees to the cause of union with the Roman Church from among the clerical and lay leaders of the Christian communities in Syrian cities. The missionaries were particularly successful among the merchants of Aleppo and Saida who did business with Europeans, and among the local clergymen who resented the authority of the Church of Constantinople over them. By 1724, many Antiochene dignitaries had turned unequivocally Uniate. After this the Greek Orthodox establishment began to take increasingly severe measures against the Uniates, with due support from the central government. This reaction reached its peak in the 1750s and continued on and off for the rest of the century. Many a Uniate Melchite felt forced to leave for Egypt, where the authority of the Orthodox Church was relatively weak and business prospects good. Others left for the Mountain, where another Uniate Catholic community, the Maronites, had already become well established. The schism within the Christian ranks eventually led to the formation of a separate Greek Catholic Church in Syria, which the Ottoman authorities formally recognized in 1847. In the 1860s, the members of this church constituted about eight percent of the Mountain's population and the majority of Zahla's.[13]

There was also a Greek Orthodox population in the Mountain. Kura, close to Tripoli, was and remained predominantly Greek Orthodox. But the Greek Orthodox Arabs were basically an urban element in the area, as were the Sunnis. In Tripoli, Saida, and the Kharrub hills overlooking Saida, the Sunni Muslims were a clear majority and the Orthodox Christians the second important group, although most of the latter in Saida appear to have turned Uniate in the eighteenth century.[14] In Beirut also, the overwhelming majority of the population was either Sunni or Orthodox and remained so well into the nineteenth century.[15] Since the cities were the linchpins of the Ottoman ruling system,[16] the dominance of Muslim and Christian orthodoxies in urban centers is not surprising. The Orthodox Church was one of the most powerful institutions in the Ottoman system, and it cooperated with the central government in perpetuating Istanbul's hegemony over as broad a network of cities as possible, and hence over the hinterlands controlled by these cities. In other words, the "East" incorporated East Roman Christianity as much as it did the Mus-


13

lims of the Ottoman State for a considerable period. As this alliance was severed in the course of the nineteenth century and the East-West dichotomy came to be seen, in the "West" as well as in the "Near East," as an antagonistic relationship between Christianity and Islam, the Greek Orthodox Arabs found themselves in an uneasy position. Partly for this reason and partly for economic reasons, a considerable number of Greek Orthodox Christians moved from the Syrian interior to Beirut and some to the Mountain. In the 1860s they made up about 13 percent of the Mountain's population.[17] But by that time the Mountain itself had become a hotbed of sectarian fights as a result of developments that sapped the foundations of the political balance initiated by Amir Fakhr al-Din Ma'n.

Politics

During Amir Fakhr al-Din's long rule (1593–1633), a group of chieftains had established themselves quite firmly as quasi-feudal tax-collectors and administrators in the central and southern parts of the Mountain and the Wadi al-Taim. While these chieftains were mostly Druze, they also included non-Druze such as the Maronite Khazins and Hubaishes in Kisrawan and the Sunni Shihabs in Wadi al-Taim. The vested interests thus created, combined with Fakhr al-Din's legacy, enabled the Ma'ns to remain in charge. Quite understandably, this area began to be called the "Druze Mountain."[18]

Some of the Druze warlords, mostly led by the 'Alam al-Dins and the Arslans, challenged the Ma'ns at times, but to little effect. Likewise, the Ottoman governors of Saida and Damascus took advantage of the differences between Druze chieftains to keep them in check, but as a rule they recognized the autonomy of the Druze Mountain under the Ma'ns. The power relationships initiated by Fakhr al-Din became self-generating and acquired a systemic quality, despite the occasionally bitter struggles to renegotiate and readjust them. This political regime is known as the amirate (imâra ) period in Lebanese history, for the official title of Amir Fakhr al-Din was adopted as a distinction of high nobility by all his descendants as well and attributed even to his ancestors. Members of other families considered to be the Ma'ns' equals by Druze traditions, such as the 'Alam al-Dins and the Arslans, also adopted the title of amir, which came to imply princedom in the Lebanese political idiom.[19]

The amirate of the Ma'ns came to an end in 1697, when Fakhr al-Din's only male successor, his youngest son Husain Ma'n, chose to remain in Istanbul, where he had been brought up and had risen to a senior position in the Ottoman bureaucracy.[20] The amirate regime continued, however, under the leadership of a new family, the Shihabs, whom the Druze


14

Mountain chieftains chose as successors to the Ma'ns. The 'Alam al-Dins challenged this decision, but in 1711 the Shihabs and their supporters defeated the 'Alam al-Din party at 'Ain Dara and ousted them from the Mountain. The expelled Druze settled in Hauran and eventually established their own "Druze Mountain" there—in present-day southwestern Syria. In the Mountain, the enclaves were redistributed according to the new balance of power that emerged among the chieftains after 'Ain Dara. The Abi-l-Lama's, the Junblats, and the 'Imads, along with the Shihabs, were the main beneficiaries of the new arrangements. The Arslans' holdings, however, were significantly reduced.

For over a hundred years after 'Ain Dara, the Shihabs remained the paramount clan of the old "Druze Mountain" without a serious internal or external challenge. Under the Shihabs the amirate regime struck firmer roots, and from about the 1760s onward expanded to cover the northern parts of the Mountain—that is, the original "Mount Lebanon." Earlier in the century, the Himada family of Ba'lbak and 'Akkar had collected the taxes of "Mount Lebanon" on behalf of the governors of Tripoli. With the assistance of the Shihabs and the intervention of the governor of Damascus, the sheikhs of "Mount Lebanon" ended the Himadas' control and gave their allegiance to the Shihabs. "Mount Lebanon" remained within the jurisdiction of Tripoli and the "Druze Mountain" within Saida's, but until 1807 two different Shihabi amirs were usually responsible for these two regions, reflecting the intensification of ties between the north and the south during the amirate period.

An intricate network of influential families sustained the amirate regime. These stood in a hierarchical relationship to one another, defined by each family's inherited social status and its actual power at any given time. Certain fixed titles (amîr, muqaddam , chieftain-sheikh, and village-sheikh, in descending order) rooted in the military-administrative history of the Mountain proclaimed the inherited status of the families. A conventional code of behavior defined the rights and privileges of the families by their titles and regulated marriage and other relations between them. The code clearly justified social stratification and facilitated the circulation of power within the ruling stratum. The actual distribution of power, however, depended not so much on title as on the agricultural resources controlled by a family and its ability to use these resources without being divided within itself.

Control of resources involved, above all, possessing a muqâta'a . In Ottoman practice, muqâta'a expressed the claim to a specific state revenue farmed out to an individual for a specific period of time. In the eighteenth century, it was commonplace to assign to capable individuals, on a lifetime


15

basis, the agricultural taxes due from an area, along with the task of maintaining the public security within it. These tax-farmers operated within a hierarchical network of provincial power magnates but under certain restrictions imposed by a centrally coordinated high-cultural, judicial, financial, and military-administrative setup. The Mountain was linked to this network, but peripherally so. There, tax-farming evolved in a rather peculiar way, and the so-called muqâta'a-jis , or "tax farmers," were able to establish themselves more firmly and autonomously than their colleagues elsewhere.[21]

To a considerable extent, the Mountain's isolation and tortuous terrain protected the autonomy of its magnates and enabled them to strike deep roots on its different hills. The Shihabs were recognized as the overarching tax-farmers first in the "Druze Mountain" and then also in the northern parts of the Mountain. They exercised this privilege directly only in certain areas, and elsewhere apportioned it to other powerful families of various social ranks. These muqâta'as often corresponded to the sharply separated enclaves (iqlîms ) and subdistricts of the Mountain and were considered the hereditary domain of the families in charge. In general, the muqâta'ajis enjoyed the support of the peasants who worked in quasi-feudal dependence on them. There was some objective ground for this support; as discussed earlier, these peasant families had long-term vested interests in the land they worked. The terraces they built and the trees and vines they planted made their lives more firmly fixed than those of the dry-agriculture lowland peasants. These circumstances and the importance of cooperation in their agricultural activities called for a stable leadership that could provide reasonably long-term security and also arbitrate disputes with sufficient moral and political authority.[22]

That the overlords belonged to prestigious lineages helped to enhance their authority, particularly when their followers believed themselves descended from common ancestral origins, as was largely true with the Druze peasants—though by no means peculiar to them.[23] Even when this was not the case, the overlords still acted as custodians of the moral and religious traditions of the communities living on their muqâta'as . Thus both Druze and Maronite lords endowed land for the construction and maintenance of churches and monasteries for the Maronite peasants whom they encouraged to settle their domains.[24] A close relationship developed between religious and secular heads, who sometimes belonged to the same family. Thus the Junblats, who were late-comers to the Mountain, owed their hard-earned prestige as much to the fact that 'Ali Junblat, the architect of the family's power base, was a great sage, one of the 'uqqâl , as well as a successful military-political leader.[25] Likewise, the Khazins


16

produced many of the Maronite prelates, including several patriarchs.[26] The muqâta'ajis were so concerned to maintain a moral authority over the communities under their rule that they sometimes converted to Maronite Christianity. Thus the Druze Abi-l-Lama's of Matn turned Maronite as Matn became overwhelmingly Maronite in time. A branch of the Shihabi family likewise converted to Maronite Christianity, and a few of the amirs toyed with the idea in order to enhance their influence over their Maronite followers.[27] The moral and political authority of the muqâta'ajis , combined with their socioeconomic position, helped them become entrenched in the enclaves under their control.

Struggles within and between the muqâta'aji families, however, tended to weaken their hold on their domains. Although the claim of a family over a specific muqâta'a was accepted as hereditary by the conventions of the Mountain, this principle was not entirely unchallengeable. (Indeed, contrary to the impression given in many historical accounts, the amirate represents a dynamic, changing pattern of relationships.) The more powerful families could clearly establish patronage over others, if not actually take over their domain. Families that were unable to maintain a united leadership were particularly vulnerable to external manipulation. Since the muqâta'a was accepted as the domain of the family, an incumbent muqâta'aji could be challenged by other members of the family, or the domain could be divided among his heirs. Successive splits could, in a few generations, reduce the members of the family to mere village sheikhs, even if they continued to bear lofty titles. The frequency of fatal confrontations between close relatives underlined the importance of maintaining a united leadership within the muqâta'aji families.[28]

A particularly successful family in this regard was the Junblats. They were only chieftains, and had acquired even that status only after 'Ain Dara, in 1711, but they developed themselves into the richest and most powerful family of the Mountain. Their rise clearly challenged some of the other muqâta'ajis , as witnessed by the emergence of the so-called "Yazbaki" alliance against the Junblats. The Yazbaki-Junblati struggle provided a dyadic pattern to the power struggles in the Mountain. All notable families and rival factions within families aligned themselves with either one side or the other, as dictated by their interests at any particular time. To a certain extent, shifts from one faction to the other helped maintain the balance and hence the status quo. The dyadic pattern of the rivalries also enabled the ruling amirs to act as arbiters between the conflicting parties in a way that reinforced the paramountcy of the Shihabi house over other families. The Shihabs were not immune from problems of succession, however. A Shihabi claimant to the amirate was hence left with little


17

choice but to seek the support of other notables and magnates, who could effectively determine the outcome of a contest insofar as they could reach a consensus among themselves. If they failed to do so, the governors of Saida and Tripoli, and under certain circumstances also the governor of Damascus, would get involved to settle the matter. After all, it was the governors who invested the amir, in the name of the sultan, with the authority to oversee the affairs of the Mountain.[29] Such intervention did not always prove advantageous to the mountaineers' collective interests and internal stability.

It is apparent that while certain centripetal forces kept the magnates of the Mountain together, there were also centrifugal forces dividing them. Their common interests vis-à-vis both the peasant families and the neighboring power centers pulled them together. The legacy of Fakhr al-Din Ma'n provided a model for cooperation, and recognition of this model by the representatives of Ottoman authority enhanced its legitimacy. The Shihabi family emerged as primus inter pares around which other magnate families moved. A code of social interaction guided the formal relations between them and distinguished them from the rest of the society. A balance of power took form among the families, as each struck roots in distinct, easily defensible, and basically self-enclosed enclaves where fixed socioeconomic relations defined the social landscape. Shifting alliances maintained the balance, as certain families increased their relative power for one reason or another. Recognition of the ruling amir's arbitration authority helped to diffuse tensions and reinforced his centrality in the regime. Centralized administrative institutions and regular enforcement powers on which the amir could rely to impose his authority were absent, however. The fragmented and decentralized nature of the regime, and of the social structure in which it was nested, prevented concentration of the resources necessary to build an institutionalized political center.[30] Under these circumstances, the amirate remained a regime of shifting parapolitical alliances and counteralliances of influential families and family factions that controlled the human and material resources of the Mountain's various districts and subdistricts.

Winds of Change

One of the developments toward the end of the eighteenth century that altered the balance of forces in the Mountain was the increasing commercialization of its economy and its consequent dependence on the outside world. Above all, the rising demand for the Mountain's raw silk in inland towns, as well as in Egypt and France, engendered a steady increase in the amount of land planted in the mulberry trees used in sericulture. Vine-


18

yards and olive groves enjoyed a similar expansion, all at the expense of land devoted to cereal crops.[31] By the early nineteenth century, only 35–40 percent of the grain consumed in the Mountain was locally produced; the rest was imported from inland Syria and Egypt.[32] Despite the high cost of transportation for imported food, the net proceeds from the sale of raw silk and other cash crops were apparently sufficient to encourage the mountaineers to make the shift.

Another development that stimulated commercial transactions was the growing importance of maritime trade along the Syrian coast. Akka (Acre) was the main beneficiary of this boom. Zahir al-'Umar, the powerful magnate of Palestine from 1746 to 1775, was the first to develop Akka into a major port at the expense of Saida. As Zahir became engaged in a protracted struggle with the potentates of Saida, the Shihabi amirs of the Mountain took advantage of the situation to bring Beirut into the fold of the amirate, in 1748, and siphon off some of Damascus's trade with Egypt and Europe. Zahir responded by laying siege to Beirut in 1773, but he was defeated and eventually killed.[33]

Cezzar Ahmed (Jazzar Ahmad), an adventurer-soldier who had excelled in the battles against Zahir, was appointed governor of the Saida province in return for his services. Using Akka as his seat and power base, he quickly brought not only Beirut but also Tripoli under his direct rule. He then set himself up as the monopolistic overseer of all coastal trade, much to the discomfiture of the merchants and potentates of inland Syria. Yet his cautious relations with Istanbul, and the glory he earned by successfully defending Akka against Bonaparte's powerful army in 1799, made Cezzar irreplaceable. Until his death in 1804, he remained the most powerful magnate in the area.[34]

His policies did not reverse the trend of commercialization in the Mountain, but he was able to extract much of the proceeds. By playing the rival factions of the amirate against one another, he collected much higher sums from the mountaineers than their normal tax burden. While this indicates the vulnerability of the amirate to the manipulations of a powerful and ruthless governor, it also attests to the growing capacity of the Mountain's economy to generate cash.[35] Indeed, when the moderate Süleyman Pasha replaced Cezzar as governor of Saida-Akka, from 1804 to 1818, the Mountain enjoyed a visible prosperity, spectacularly represented by the splendid mansion its increasingly powerful amir, Bashir Shihab II, built for himself in Bait ul-Din.[36]

Bashir had occupied the amirate, with intermissions, since 1788, with the indispensable support of his namesake Sheikh Bashir Junblat.[37] The cooperation between the two Bashirs reflected the changing balance of


19

forces in the Mountain. Sheikh Bashir, the undisputed chief of the Junblats, was by all accounts the most powerful and the richest person in the Mountain. A considerable portion of his wealth came from the silk produced on the muqâta'as run by the Junblats. The family also held muqâta'as in the grain-growing Biqa' valley, and thus had access to a ready supply of food. Cezzar's requests for cash put Sheikh Bashir in a key position as a maker of amirs. He was the only muqâta'aji who could provide an amir with ready cash, credit, and sufficient manpower to collect the additional taxes levied on the mountaineers. Sheikh Bashir used his weight to support Amir Bashir against other Shihabs. The two Bashirs then cooperated to extend the lands under their control at the expense of other muqâta'ajis . Thus, first the Abu Nakads and then the 'Imads, who had been the backbone of the Yazbaki alliance against the Junblats, were reduced to insignificance. Occasionally the opponents of the two Bashirs managed to make Cezzar appoint other Shihabs to the amirate, but their inability to meet the pasha's requests returned Amir Bashir to power.

Cezzar's manipulations clearly played an important role in this seesaw struggle. Yet, equally clearly, the struggle acquired a dynamic of its own that was embedded in the realities of the Mountain. Amir Bashir was using his contacts with governors and Sheikh Bashir's support to build a power base for himself. In fact, it was in 1807, during Süleyman Pasha's governorship, that Bashir Shihab launched a fierce attack against his cousins, blinded them in order to end their claims to the amirate, confiscated their properties as well as muqâta'as , and killed a number of others whom he considered a threat to his authority. By 1818–19 the territories under the amir's control, which included Dair al-Qamar and muqâta'as in the Biqa', had brought him sufficient affluence and power to lead him to consider Sheikh Bashir's undoing.[38] A new development briefly postponed the impending showdown between the two partners.

In 1820, the Maronite peasants of the northern enclaves refused to pay the additional taxes that a new governor in Akka, Abdullah Pasha (1818–1832), imposed on the amirate. Their Shiite neighbors joined the action, but the Druze and the Maronite peasants of the south stayed away. Sheikh Bashir Junblat, together with a few merchants from the south and probably also the amir himself, had paid part of the surtax out of their own pockets to relieve the southern peasants of the burden. Since there were no such affluent personages in the north, the surtax was levied on the producers, thereby provoking their reaction. Indeed, the recalcitrant peasants demanded not only an end to surtaxes but also the equitable distribution of the overall tax burden, claiming that the Druze enjoyed a privi-


20

leged position in the system. Political issues engendered by regional and class differences had begun to take on a sectarian coloring.

The influence of the increasingly better organized, better educated, and self-confident Maronite clergy on the emergence of this trend is unmistakable. A group of young clerics who provided guidance to the peasants in 1820 believed the Church should play an active role in defense of the interests of the Maronite community.[39] As the two Bashirs dominated the amirate at a cost felt more heavily in the predominantly Maronite north than in the Druze-dominated south, the Church began to move into the political arena as an advocate of popular grievances. Amir Bashir would eventually ally himself with this new force, but in 1820–22 he showed no sympathy for the clerics' involvement in politics. He had the leading cleric involved, Bishop Yusuf Istafan, poisoned. He also repressed the resistance by force and collected the taxes levied on the peasants, with due support from Sheikh Bashir and the sheikh's Druze retainers.

No sooner had the amir reasserted his authority than developments external to the Mountain confronted him with new challenges and revealed the deepening breach between him and Sheikh Bashir. Since Cezzar's days, the potentates of the coastal lands had held Damascus and other inland towns largely under their sway by monopolizing the coastal trade. In 1822 the governors of Damascus and Aleppo joined forces to break this monopoly, and laid siege to Akka. So far, both Bashirs has cooperated with the coastal party perforce, as clients of the potentates of Akka and also because the cooperation served their interests well. At this juncture, however, the two Bashirs parted. The sheikh negotiated an agreement with the governor of Damascus to keep the Mountain out of the conflict. The amir remained loyal to Abdullah, the governor of Akka, and left for Egypt. A new amir, invested in his position by the governor of Damascus, took charge of the Mountain under Sheikh Bashir's wings.

Briefly, the sheikh appeared to have outwitted the amir, but the latter proved to be politically the shrewder of the two, for yet another rising force in the region tipped the balance in favor of Abdullah Pasha. Mehmed Ali (Muhammad 'Ali), the governor of Egypt, persuaded Istanbul to order the lifting of the siege against Akka. Amir Bashir returned to the Mountain triumphantly. The sheikh tried in vain to make peace with him. An all-out confrontation between the supporters of the amir and those of the sheikh became unavoidable. In 1825, the two sides joined battle at Mukhtara. The artillery and gunners that Abdullah Pasha had put at the amir's disposal decided the outcome. The leading Junblats and some of their supporters were forced to leave the Mountain for Hauran. Sheikh Bashir him-


21

self was eventually captured and was killed in the dungeons of Akka. Bashir Shihab confiscated Sheikh Bashir's property and redistributed the muqâta'as among his own supporters, keeping the lion's share for himself and his sons.[40]

With the sheikh out of the way, Amir Bashir became the focal point of the Mountain's politics, more tangibly so than any of his predecessors except Fakhr al-Din. But Fakhr al-Din had really been the governor of the coast, and as such in the same category with Cezzar Ahmed Pasha, Süleyman Pasha, and Abdullah Pasha, whereas Amir Bashir was simply the ruler of the Mountain.[41] He had always been a client of the governors of the coast and dependent on them to rule the Mountain, and he continued to be so to the end of his career. Amir Bashir was able to capitalize on the changes taking place in and around the Mountain, however, to become a stronger ruler than his predecessors. The economy could now generate more cash to sustain a somewhat greater degree of centralization. Indeed, the guards, scribes, and other retainers in the amir's employ increased as he extended the territories under his control. His mansion became more like a government palace. Here he convened meetings, settled disputes, and attended to administrative business. He was also able to appoint and dismiss the muqâta'ajis virtually at will. Although the incumbent muqâta'ajis continued to enjoy territorial autonomy and the notable families retained a privileged social status, their authority became visibly marginalized vis-à-vis not only the amir but also the Maronite Church.

With a new patriarch, Ilias Hubaish (1823–1845), at the helm, the Church had reconciled its differences with Bashir Shihab just before the critical Mukhtara battle.[42] The amir, who practiced Sunni Islam in public and Christianity in private, allowed a Maronite priest to take charge of his spiritual life. In return, the patriarch used all the weight of the church to successfully rally the Maronite muqâta'ajis and sheikhs behind the amir, in the name of communal solidarity and interests. So far, all major political confrontations in the Mountain had been cross-sectarian. In Mukhtara, as well, there were Druze and Shiite chieftains fighting on both sides, but the Maronites concentrated their support on one side alone. This was a novel development. Sectarian sensitivities, already evoked during the peasant resistance of 1820–21, found vivid expression in Mukhtara.

After Mukhtara, the cooperation between the Church and the amir continued, enabling the Church to expand its organization, land possessions, and influence. As the Maronite peasants turned to the Church in increasing numbers for protection against oppressive taxation, the Church became the main mouthpiece of and principal power-broker within the


22

Maronite community. The amir relied on the Church to keep the northern districts under control. Furthermore, the Church's support provided the amir's rule with a moral legitimacy at a time when the leading lineages, which had hitherto been the main pillars of the Shihabi amirate, were fast becoming alienated from it, given the marginalization of their authority. Since most of the leading notables were Druze, and Amir Bashir's new source of political support self-consciously Maronite, the unfolding social cleavages in the Mountain began more than ever to loom as a sectarian issue. Perhaps the amir could have worked out a new social reconciliation that would have based the amirate on firmer ground, in accordance with the changing circumstances, assuming that he had the state-building qualities attributed to him by some of his modern admirers. But Mehmed Ali's invasion of Syria in 1831, and the consequent concentration of international attention on the Mountain, complicated its problems and rendered their resolution a challenge beyond the means of any amir.

International Rivalries and Sectarian Strife

Keeping the growing economic ties between Egypt and Syria undisturbed was clearly a major concern for Mehmed Ali. Despite the protection he provided Abdullah Pasha against the governors of Aleppo and Damascus, Akka proved to be a trouble spot in Egypt's relations with Syria. In the late 1820s, Abdullah took advantage of the deepening cleavage between Cairo and Istanbul to dissociate himself from Mehmed Ali's patronage. He then used Akka's strategic and well-fortified position to maximize his share of Syrian–Egyptian trade. He taxed or attacked caravans operating between Cairo and Damascus, and imposed high levies on Beirut and the Mountain.[43]

Abdullah's attitude, combined with the threatening position Sultan Mahmud II had adopted toward Egypt, prompted Mehmed Ali to order his forces into Syria, under the command of his son Ibrahim Pasha. In 1831 Ibrahim lay siege to Akka, beginning an all-out struggle between the sultan and the pasha of Egypt that lasted ten long years and eventually involved all the major powers of Europe. Once Akka fell, in May 1832, Ibrahim Pasha quickly established his authority in coastal and inland Syria and then smoothly advanced to Kütahya, near Istanbul. Mehmed Ali restrained Ibrahim's march to Istanbul and begged the sultan to yield to a reasonable agreement. But Mahmud was adamant. He asked the Russians for help, contrary to the advice of prominent ulama and ministers, as well as Mehmed Ali, against involving outsiders in an internal dispute of the Empire. Russian troops began taking positions along the Bosphorus to defend Istanbul. Other European powers became alarmed lest Istanbul fall


23

under Russian influence. Mahmud himself had actually hoped to rely not on the Russians, but on the British, in his struggle against Mehmed Ali. British help, however, was slow in coming, and with many strings attached to it.

While his envoys negotiated with the British, Mahmud signed a treaty with Mehmed Ali that put Syria under Ibrahim's rule. But Mahmud never took the treaty seriously and speeded up his military reorganization with the barely concealed goal of punishing Mehmed Ali and his son. They, in turn, felt obliged to be ever-ready for a new war against the sultan. Both sides loaded the people under their rule with the heavy burden of their military preparations. Meanwhile, Mahmud signed the 1838 Trade Convention with the British, and later in the same year signed similar treaties with the French, Russians, and Austrians. According to these treaties (and others supplementing them in 1838–41), all local monopolies and protectionist trade restrictions were to be abolished for European merchants and their agents. Also, special tribunals were to be created for the settlement of commercial disputes that involved Europeans.

Now Mehmed Ali was doomed. If he offered similar terms to Europeans, his protectionist economic policy would collapse; if he did not, it would be impossible for him to withstand an assault of the European powers and Istanbul. He tried to follow a middle course by relaxing the tariffs applied to European merchants but failed to reverse the commitment Great Britain, Austria, Russia, and Prussia had made to back the sultan. The French, who had close technical, economic, and diplomatic ties with Egypt, remained officially neutral. French businessmen, missionaries, and diplomats in the area, however, actively abetted allied efforts to foment local resistance to Ibrahim's rule. In 1841, a joint British, Austrian, and Ottoman campaign, supported by local militia, finally drove Ibrahim's forces back to Egypt. Akka's fortifications were demolished in the process, as were the high tariff restrictions its potentates had been able to impose on maritime trade over the previous sixty years or so. An era of free trade, regulated by the 1838–41 conventions, now began, and along with it the predominance of Beirut over the neighboring ports.[44]

The decline of Saida and then the successive sieges of Akka had already drawn several merchant families and trading agencies to Beirut. The trend continued during Ibrahim Pasha's rule: Beirut became the main port through which Syria's trade with Egypt and Europe flowed. The volume of trade showed a remarkable increase in a short period of time, though the regulations favored Egypt's interests. Simultaneously, the Beirut-Zahla road developed into a major commercial artery, enabling the people living on the nearby hills to become more actively involved in the produc-


24

tion of cash crops and other commodities. Ibrahim's government encouraged this development. Under his aegis, numerous mulberry and olive trees and grapevines were planted in the Mountain, and the producers were provided with credit and an assured market to make the shift to cash crops. All these activities engendered a visible prosperity.

The Druze shared little in this prosperity—for from the very beginning their leaders agitated against Egyptian rule and opposed Amir Bashir, who put himself in Ibrahim Pasha's service. Ibrahim and the amir dispersed the recalcitrant Druze leaders, confiscated their property, disarmed the Druze remaining in the Mountain, and forcibly recruited many of them to serve in the army. The displaced and the deserters moved to Hauran, as in the past, and kept the resistance alive. In an effort to end this trouble, Ibrahim dispatched to Hauran in 1837–38 a force that included a large Maronite volunteer contingent under Amir Bashir's command. Ibrahim's assumption was that the Maronite mountaineers would be more successful than Egyptian regular troops in guerilla warfare in a mountainous region. Indeed they were, but for a different reason. The Druze fighters abandoned hostilities for fear their helpless kinsmen and families back in the Mountain might later be harmed by the armed Maronites. Mutual suspicions between the two communities were clearly deepening.[45]

Once he had repressed the Druze rebellion, Ibrahim Pasha attempted to disarm the Maronites; he was met with a stiff resistance that turned into open rebellion in May 1840. The times had changed. Rising expectations engendered by the prosperity of the previous years were stifled by an increasingly heavy tax burden. Confidence in the future of the Egyptian regime was on the wane. In 1839, a new sultan in Istanbul had promulgated a new regime of reforms, the tanzîmât . He promised fair taxation, elimination of the tax-farming system, an end to monopolistic practices and trade restrictions, security of property and life, and the equitable treatment of all subjects before the law, irrespective of their creed. Ottoman and British agents were active in Syria explaining the changes, encouraging resistance to Ibrahim's rule, and promising support.

Ibrahim was still well in control in Syria, and, at first, assisted by Amir Bashir, he had little trouble in suppressing the Maronite resistance. But the movement was popular and persistent. The Church, although initially reluctant, put its weight behind the resisters, and the French in the area followed suit. When the Ottoman troops landed in Beirut with allied naval support in September 1840, Ibrahim had already lost the Mountain. Combined with the renewed guerilla attacks of the Druze in Hauran, this loss turned the retreat of the Egyptian troops into a nightmare.[46] The moun-


25

taineers had played a key role in Ibrahim's defeat and now expected the European powers and the Ottoman government to return the favor in the form of an administration that suited their interests. However, those interests were deeply divided.

As Amir Bashir left the Mountain along with the Egyptian troops, a power vacuum developed in his wake. His personal authority had not created an enduring administrative structure, whatever the extent of the institutionalization that had taken place over the past two decades or so. In the predominantly Maronite enclaves of the north, now including Kisrawan and Matn, the Church readily filled the vacuum. The Church's expedient decision to back the resistance against Ibrahim, and hence against Amir Bashir, had concluded its long rise to the undisputed leadership of the Maronite community. The Church remained loyal to the notion of a Shihabi amirate, provided the amir was from the Maronite branch of the family. It also advocated formation of an advisory council to represent the different religious communities and regions of the Mountain and assist the amir in administrative matters. The Church's own organization and the experience of the popular resistance movements of 1820–21 and 1840–41 were the sources of inspiration for this idea. The patriarch was assisted by a Church Council composed of the bishops of different regions, and the activities of the widespread Maronite monasteries were coordinated in a similar way. Within this hierarchical organization, the bishops and the heads of individual monasteries enjoyed significant autonomy. In the popular resistance movements, a similar structure of coordination had emerged from the bottom up. Representatives of individual villages had delegated their authority to regional representatives who coordinated the movement.[47]

In a land physically divided within itself, where communications posed a crucial problem, the representation and delegation of authority as a basis for coordination and control made much sense. Clearly, the organizational power of the Maronite religious hierarchy had enabled the Church to succeed where the amirate had failed; that is, it fostered institutionalization in the face of serious physical obstacles. The popular resistance movements were temporary incidents, by their nature, but they showed the way to mass mobilization and the creation of a "mass society" that was necessary for the developing market economy. In the Church's organization as well as in the peasant movements, however, the compelling force of religious solidarity as a pseudo-political ideology had been as indispensable as practical ideas of organization. In the 1840s the Church appears to have intended to rely on the same ideological instrument, perhaps with due adaptations, in the reorganization of the Shihabi amirate.[48] The Druze


26

notables, however, did not even want to hear about a Maronite Shihabi amir. In appreciation of the role the Druze had played in undermining Cairo's authority, both the Ottomans and the British had promised to restore confiscated Druze estates. But as the leading Druze notables returned to the Mountain to reclaim the estates they considered their own, they often found themselves pitted against cultivators who believed the land was theirs and refused to be considered as tenants.[49] Changing perceptions of proprietorship were an important dimension of this dispute.

In the Mountain, as elsewhere in the Empire until about the mid-nineteenth century, absolute proprietorship was not the norm that governed the legal status of agricultural lands. The basic ownership of these lands belonged to the imperial government, although the cultivators enjoyed full usufruct rights as long as they fulfilled their basic tax obligations. There were also lands that were recognized as the "private property" (mulk ) of individuals. From the Ottoman jurists' point of view, conversion of government lands to private lands should foster the "public benefit." Under the muqâta'a system, for instance, an incumbent muqâta'aji would be allowed to keep certain estates as his private property, partly in recompense for his administrative services and partly to encourage the development of undercultivated lands in order to increase the overall tax revenue. Thus the lands on which the Maronite (and later the Greek Catholic) colonies were settled in the southern and central parts of the Mountain could be conceived as the private estates of the muqâta'ajis who sponsored these settlements. The right of ownership of a private estate was inheritable and entitled its holder to a rent, but it did not represent an absolute proprietorship in the modern sense of the term. There often existed parallel and equally legitimate claims on the same land on the basis of usufruct rights, which were normally inalienable, and rights stemming from additions made to the land, such as terraces, trees, and buildings. Similar complications occurred on endowed lands (waqf property). Thus the most richly endowed institution in the Mountain, the Maronite Church and its monasteries, owed a certain share of the produce from some of its endowed lands to the heirs of the original endowers. The peasants who worked these lands, along with the monks, also had rights as well as obligations vis-à-vis the Church.

Local custom and oral and written agreements had regulated the mutual rights and obligations of the parties involved in these complex cases of ownership in a fashion that prevented major upheavals and confrontations over land disputes until the beginning of the nineteenth century. Thereafter, intense power struggles among the muqâta'ajis themselves, confiscations and redistribution of property, forced evacuations and con-


27

scription, and new settlements seriously ruptured the existing land-tenure relationships. Local custom became blurred, agreements were reinterpreted in the light of new power relations, new arrangements were made—and last but not least, the concept of multiple ownership of land became increasingly antiquated. The commercialization of the Mountain's economy clearly generated a trend toward the commercialization of agricultural land that necessitated disentanglement and consolidation of these multifold rights to land.[50]

Such typical developments in the transition to a market economy rarely occur without serious social strife. In the Mountain, the power vacuum prevailing in 1840–41, and the hard feelings that had developed between the Maronite and Druze communities in recent years, aggravated the problem. At one extreme, some of the Druze muqâta'ajis , burdened by the debts they had incurred during their absence or period of political weakness, claimed proprietorship of certain lands based on questionable legal grounds and imposed harsh conditions on the mostly Christian cultivators of these lands. At the other extreme, some of the Maronite clergy encouraged their flock to defy even the rightful claims of the Druze muqâta'ajis and other displaced Druze. Even when there was good will, the complexity of the claims blighted hopes for a peaceful reconciliation. Land disputes heightened susceptibilities to sectarian appeal. In 1841 the disagreements between the two communities, both of which were armed to the teeth, turned into a civil war, leaving behind a deep blood feud.[51]

In order to bring the situation under control, the Ottoman government attempted to attach the Mountain directly to the Province of Saida, the seat of which had been appropriately moved to Beirut. This arrangement satisfied neither the Druze nor the Maronites, for both groups wanted autonomy, although they totally disagreed on its form. Holding the British and the Ottomans responsible for bringing the Druze back, the Church turned to France for help in reconstituting the Shihabi amirate. The Druze appealed to the British to protect their rights against such a development. In Beirut, the general consuls of the two powers found themselves advocating the points of view of different communities as they vied for political influence in an increasingly sensitive area. Their Austrian and Russian colleagues responded by seeking influence over the Greek Catholic and Greek Orthodox communities, respectively. In a sense, the consuls' concern for diplomatic advantage contributed to solidifying the sectarian lines in the Mountain and emphasized the sectarian dimension of its problems. All diplomatic representatives agreed, however, not to let the Ottoman government try to solve the issue of its own accord.

In 1842 the French, British, Russian, Austrian, and Prussian ambassa-


28

dors to Istanbul met with the Ottoman foreign minister to seek an agreeable solution to the problems of the Mountain, and in so doing they set a precedent. In the meeting, the parties involved realized that they agreed only on the irreconcilability of the Druze and Maronite positions. Consequently, they decided to divide the Mountain into two qâimaqâmiyyas , or districts, one in the north under a Maronite district governor (qâimaqâm ) and the other in the south under a Druze district governor. The Beirut-Zahla road formed the rough boundary between the two districts.[52]

In 1845 the Ottoman foreign minister, Sekib Efendi, after long consultations and negotiations with the local parties and foreign diplomats, drafted an elaborate set of regulations for operation of the two districts. These regulations, revised in 1850, were the first systematic attempt to provide the Mountain with a bureaucratic governmental structure. The most significant measure was the establishment of an advisory council to assist each district governor, each council to consist of six judges and six advisors representing the six major communities. The judges were to settle the disputes brought before them by the district governors; the advisors were to assist the district governors on matters of taxation, which was not to exceed a fixed sum and was to be conducted according to a procedure designed to protect the villagers against arbitrary exactions.[53]

This arrangement introduced confessional representation as a constitutional principle into Lebanese public life. It also provided the Mountain's political leadership with experience in the procedures and problems of a bureaucratic government. As such, it prepared the ground for establishment of the mutasarrifiyya regime. Separation of the Mountain into two districts, however, proved an ineffectual remedy for its problems. In 1845, and again in 1850, smoldering anxieties and grudges re-erupted into armed confrontations between the Maronite and Greek Catholic Christians and the Druze in the religiously mixed enclaves. These were the occasions that prompted the Sekib Efendi regulations and their revision. Refinement of the model helped little in restoring peace and order. Neither district governor, let alone the councils, was able to exert much authority over the lords of the hills or over the Church, which controlled the northern hills and wielded influence wherever the Maronites lived. The Church continued to agitate for the restoration of a Christian Shihabi amirate in the entire Mountain, and the French Consulate backed its demands. Wary of French ambitions, the British chose to play a balancing act, putting their weight against opposing ideas and people. Other consuls continuously shifted their positions according to their governments' current relations with France and Great Britain. The Ottoman officials in Beirut,


29

who were blamed by all for anything and everything that went wrong in the Mountain, drifted along with increasing frustration.[54]

Meanwhile, in many parts of the Mountain, erstwhile muqâta'ajis , Druze and Maronite alike, made desperate efforts to safeguard their interests. They blocked an Ottoman attempt to conduct a cadastral survey as a preliminary step toward the proper registration of land.[55] They also assumed full proprietorship of as many lands as possible within their reach and imposed ever-harsher tenancy conditions on the cultivators. In this regard, the Khazin sheikhs of Kisrawan appear to have been particularly oppressive. Beyond any doubt, their actions eroded whatever respect the Kisrawanis still showed this oldest and most prestigious Maronite muqâta'aji house. In 1858–59 the Kisrawani peasants rose against the Khazins and their allies, drove them away, and confiscated their property. The Khazins' downfall eliminated the last serious rival to the Church's authority over the Maronite community. It also heartened the villages in other areas farther south to take a stand against the muqâta'ajis . Even the Druze peasants showed signs of restiveness.[56]

Once again, however, the commotion quickly turned into sectarian confrontations in the mixed areas. Here the wounds of former battles were fresh, the lords were predominantly Druze, and those wronged by their deeds were mainly Maronite Christians. The clerics played a leading role in mobilizing the Maronites for an all-out struggle that they intended to be not against the muqâta'ajis alone, but the Druze at large. They taunted the Druze and made little secret of their dream of a Maronite amirate under French protection. Once the issue turned into a sectarian challenge, the Druze notables had little trouble rallying their co-religionists in and around the Mountain. They also looked for help and sympathy from other Muslims as a counterweight to the Maronite appeals for Christian support.[57] The religious war cries of the two sides did not bode well at a time when certain segments of the Muslim population in Syria were visibly disturbed by the changes taking place in their lives.

The open-door policy of the Ottoman government since 1838 had put Europeans and their local associates in a distinctly advantageous position in economic relations, rendering the native merchants, landed notables, and artisans dependent on them for credit and business opportunities. Many artisans had already gone bankrupt and fallen into misery, unable to compete against cheap European commodities. These circumstances affected the Muslim majority and non-Muslim minorities alike, but the latter were better disposed and, in certain ways, better prepared to adapt to the changing circumstances. In any event, the native beneficiaries of Eu-


30

ropean economic dominance were overwhelmingly Christian, and the Europeans themselves exhibited little sympathy for Islam or for Muslims. For a socially disoriented Muslim who looked for a simple explanation of his state, "Christians" appeared a good enough reason. The times were ripe for bigotry.[58]

In the spring of 1860, a few skirmishes between the Maronites and the Druze ignited the bloodiest sectarian confrontations to date in the Mountain. As the Maronites of the north failed to go to the aid of their co-religionists in the south, the Druze easily broke whatever resistance they encountered. They did not stop at that, however. They attacked villages and towns with ferocity. Not even the Greek Orthodox community of Wadi al-Taim escaped their anger, although unlike the Maronite and Greek Catholics, the Greek Orthodox Christians had always been friendly with the Druze and were totally unprepared for any confrontation. A few Shiites and Sunnites joined the Druze, but there is evidence that many others sympathized with them. The Ottoman troops themselves failed to stop the Druze attacks on several occasions; this failure was due as much to their unwillingness to fight fellow Muslims as to mismanagement and paucity of numbers. When the Druze had finished, about 15,000 Christians were dead and tens of thousands were homeless fugitives. No sooner had events settled in the Mountain than mobs, without any provocation attacked and pillaged the Christian quarters in Damascus.[59]

The events were a shameful blow to the reformist government in Istanbul. Fuad Pasha, the Ottoman foreign minister, was invested with special powers and rushed to Damascus, via Beirut, at the head of an Ottoman brigade. His justice was swift and harsh, meting out the severest punishment to the Ottoman officers and officials for having failed to prevent the attacks. His action drove home to the Damascenes that a new order was there to stay. He then turned his attention to the Mountain. Here the events had begun as a civil war and the Druze had been provoked. These circumstances saved the lives of the Druze leaders, but in other ways the Druze paid dearly for their conduct. Their leaders were imprisoned or fled the Mountain to avoid punishment, and a huge burden of indemnity was imposed. It would be a long time before the Druze recovered from the blow that Fuad Pasha's tribunal, or rather their own misjudgments and inability to adapt to the times, had inflicted upon them.[60]

With the Druze leadership routed, and the two district governorships in shambles, the Maronite Church emerged as the only significant institution in the Mountain, and in many ways as the true victor of the many years of turmoil. As the Maronite Church and the community had steadily expanded from the north toward the south, so had the name "Mount


31

Lebanon." Now the Maronite dominance was questioned by none, and the Mountain had become Mount Lebanon.

The New Regime

Mount Lebanon still needed a government, however—a government that all its people could identify with and respect. That was the next item on Fuad's agenda, but one he had to resolve with the representatives of other powers, by force of circumstances. Events in the region had created an uproar in Europe, particularly in France. Although Fuad's swift action calmed this reaction, it did not prevent the landing of a large French force in Beirut for the purpose of protecting the Maronites and other Christians. The French military presence complicated the search for a new governmental structure for Mount Lebanon because it aroused the suspicions of other powers and compromised Ottoman sovereignty.

When, in October 1860, the representatives of Great Britain, France, Russia, Austria, and Prussia sat down under Fuad's presidency in Beirut to discuss the situation, they were still more concerned about their own interests than with those of the Lebanese. As the negotiations dragged on for months, however, the participants acquired greater familiarity with the area and with the concerns and wishes of its various groups and communities. Finally, it was agreed as a matter of principle that Mount Lebanon had to be recognized as a unit and its problems dealt with in a way that would enhance this unity rather than undermine it. It was also agreed, however, not to include Beirut in Mount Lebanon. (Until 1864, Beirut remained the seat of the Province of Saida, which included Latakia, Tripoli, Nablus, and Jerusalem, in addition to Beirut and Saida. In 1864 this area was incorporated into the Province of Damascus. In 1887 the same area, except Jerusalem, once again became a province in its own right, called the Province of Beirut.)

By May 1861 the committee finally produced a draft statute that was then taken up for final revision in a meeting between the ambassadors and the Ottoman grand vizier, Âli Pasha, in Istanbul. The outcome was an organic statute called the "Règlement for the reorganization of Mount Lebanon." An international protocol signed on June 9, 1861, ratified the Règlement and also set out certain guidelines concerning its implementation.[61]

Mount Lebanon would be organized into a special Ottoman governorate, or mutasarrifiyya (see Map 2 for its boundaries.) A Christian governor was to head the mutasarrifiyya . He would be appointed by and directly responsible to the Sublime Porte (Bâb-i 'Âli , the executive headquarters of the Ottoman central government, named after the high gate


32

Map 2.
The Governorate of Mount Lebanon, 1861–1920 (based on Isma 'il Haqqi, ed., 
Lubnân, mabâhith 'ilmiyya wa ijtimâ'iyya , 2nd ed., Beirut, 1969–70).


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used to enter the complex that housed the offices of the grand vizier).[62] A three-year term was fixed for the first governor, Davud Pasha. At the end of this term, the ambassadors would reconvene with the Ottoman foreign minister to review matters. At this meeting, held in 1864, lengthy negotiations over the proposals by Davud Pasha and others to revise the Règlement , in light of the past three years' experience, culminated in a series of important amendments. An international protocol was signed to this effect on September 6, 1864. This revised 1864 version of the Règlement remained the basic document according to which Mount Lebanon's autonomous government was constructed and run during the mutasarrifiyya period.

Although both versions of the Règlement were based on international agreements, they were promulgated in the form of an imperial decree, with the understanding that it was the responsibility of the Ottoman government to make the new order work.[63] Would the Ottomans sincerely shoulder this responsibility, which involved building a governmental framework within which the people of Mount Lebanon could reconcile their differences and heal their wounds? To that question we now turn.


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1 The Road to a Special Regime in Mount Lebanon
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