by Adel Beshara
Defense counsel Mughabghab: “Either the document is withdrawn or read in full.”
The Chairman: “Is there any reason preventing the prosecution from reading the whole document?” The Prosecution: “Fine. Fine. I will read it.”64
My dear Leader A Syrian Social Nationalist salutation
I am in Yarka today. Nothing significant to report from my side, except that on the 8th of May I met with the officer-in-charge of intelligence in the Galilee Battalion. I have unearthed detailed secrets on the area in which he is stationed and will submit my report on my return.
The Lebanese Phalange organization and Archbishop Ignatius Mubarak are communicating and negotiating with Israel to topple the regime [in Lebanon] in order to establish a Christian state and suppress the other sects.
A number of our local citizens have shown me recommendation papers given them by Archbishop Mubarak to use in Israel. I will attempt to obtain copies of these documents.
Should you need to send special instructions regarding this issue, please do so through Muhammad Araka when he contacts the [party’s] Headquarters.
My sincere social nationalist regards Muhammad Yunis 13 May, 1949.
Apparently, the letter was forged to appear as though Sa’adeh had been soliciting an Israeli passport when in fact he was attempting to obtain copies of the authorization papers issued by Archbishop Mubarak to his (Mubarak’s) emissaries. Sa’adeh had hoped to use these permits to expose the ruse between Israel and its Maronite allies in Lebanon, but the government beat him to it through Muhammad Araka, who was apparently a double agent.65 Instead of investigating Mubarak and the Phalange about the plot, the government forged the letter in a moment of panic to “turn Lebanese and Arab public opinion against [Sa’adeh], including first and foremost Husni az-Zaim.”66 Since then, abundant evidence has emerged about Israeli-Maronite contacts during this period and about the plot itself.67 After the prosecution read the original letter “there was thunderous applause in the court. The document was declared null and void and the charge was dropped in an official court of law.”68
The trial lasted two days. Almost all of the defendants received prison terms varying from one to four years. They were also charged collectively twenty-five thousand Lebanese pounds to pay for the trial’s expenses. Absent party functionaries were sentenced in absentia to various prison terms and deprived of all their civil rights. Their properties and belongings were also confiscated and placed in government trust. Muhammad Yunis received the harshest penalty: he was sentenced to four years imprisonment and deportation to another country upon his release.69
Alongside these trials, the Khoury regime conducted a systematic and institutionalized repression of Sa’adeh’s followers. On 13 July, a memento was issued to the State’s public service warning members affiliated to any political party or organization of “severe penalties.”70 The warning was enforced almost immediately against Sa’adeh’s sympathizers at all levels of the government, the armed forces, the various ministerial departments, the educational institutions, and the judicial system.71 The accused individuals were detained in army barracks to meet the overflow in state jails.72 The Times estimated the number at 800.73 Special administrative tribunals were set up to try them, but the procedure was mostly inefficient. Some prisoners were released after preliminary investigations, others were detained without charges. Tribunals were kept busy, however, trying the huge backlog of cases which included some fifty suspects who were still on the loose.74 Ironically, many were convicted for acts unrelated to the planned uprising, including three sergeants and one staff sergeant, who were tried in camera by the military tribunal and given various prison terms on flimsy evidence.75 To make this possible, the tribunal interpreted the law to include any member of the Syrian National Party caught with weapons, legal or not, even when there were no specific plans to use force. In most cases, the procedure was as pedantic as the other trials of this period and really nothing more than an open-and-shut exercise in accusation and punishment.
The defendants suffered untold personal loss of prosperity and reputation. Some lost everything they had. Others were discredited over quite innocent events or connections they may have had with Sa’adeh or his party. We know in retrospect that the cleansing operation pitted friends and staff against each other and created an atmosphere of mutual distrust between colleagues. It caused tremendous hardship to those involved and lingering fear and uncertainty to individuals and their families. To add to the insecurity, the government used odious measures to ensure that subversives were swiftly rounded up: anyone caught trying to raise money to help affected families was arrested;76 a ban was imposed on foreign newspapers that published regular reports on Sa’adeh;77 a midnight raid was made on a hospital to capture suspected SNP patients “causing fear in the hearts of staff and patients;”78 a memorandum was circulated to Lebanese embassies and consulates all over the world asking diplomats to pressure host governments to extradite suspected SNP affiliates;79 pressure was brought upon the Hannawi regime in Syria to expel Sa’adeh’s wife from the country;80 an author was arrested for attempting to publish a book on Sa’adeh, etc. These measures pale by comparison with other great political purges of the twentieth century. Still, they were monstrously out of proportion to the presumed misdeeds of the accused. Eventually, as outrageous evidence emerged about the injustices perpetrated against Sa’adeh, the government was forced to abandon most of these measures causing another major dent to its reputation.
Execution: The Irrational Choice
The ideal that every man is entitled to a fair and impartial trial is the cornerstone of civilized government. If a government destroys or damages that ideal it does irreparable harm to the structure of society. Unfair trials harm the moral leadership of the authorities who permit them and scrape out the cement which binds the legal institutions together. As one observer has justly noted, the degradation of the ideal of a fair trial “is the first step on the road to a police state.”81 The stage of appellate review is, in this respect, one of the essential elements of a fair trial. It is a link in the judicial process that controls the timing, the standards, and the scope of review of trial court decisions. It is also a fairly involved and time-consuming process that requires of the decision-making authorities
(1) correction of error (or declaration that no correction is required) in particular litigation; and (2) declaration of legal principle, by creation, clarification, extension, or overruling.82 In the discharge of these basic functions several others of subsidiary but significant importance are also served:
ensuring principled decision-making in the trial courts;
diffusing accountability within the legal system;
ensuring uniformity of principles; and
making justice “visible through the reasoned opinion.”83
Moreover, the proper exercise of these functions requires that the decision-maker have full and accurate information about the offender, the offense, and the needs of society, in order to determine whether to spare the condemned prisoner. This is often done with the view that the public interest would be better served by sparing the life of the condemned rather than taking it, particularly in cases where executive clemency may facilitate the healing of political wounds.
Despite the irreversible nature of the death penalty, the Lebanese government failed to observe the legal safeguards afforded to the condemned during the review stage. First, the right of the condemned to adequate time and facilities to prepare his submission to the Reprieve Committee and the President was clearly violated. There was never a submission in the first place. The entire process was steamrolled. Sa’adeh was not even consulted about whether he wanted to make a submission for pardon or for the commutation of his sentence.
The execution order was rushed to deny Sa’adeh fair access to the clemency authorities and the opportunity to present his case or to contest the legality of the trial. He was left without an attorney, without knowledge of the information hel
d against him, without an opportunity to appear personally before the clemency authorities, and without a proper hearing at all. It converted the clemency proceedings into an opportunity for the reprieve authorities to exert, without checks, all their powers of suppression against him. What is even more perplexing was President Khoury’s refusal to give reconciliation through clemency any serious consideration. Khoury, a lawyer by profession, would surely have known that proceedings leading to the imposition of capital punishment must conform to the highest standards of independence, competence, objectivity and impartiality; that all safeguards and due process guarantees for the condemned must be scrupulously observed. Yet he authorized the death sentence without delay, contravening the most elementary principles of the clemency review.
The government did try to defend itself on the ground of “national security,” but its argument is highly dubious. First, there were no clear national security implications to speak of since the revolt was well and truly defeated and the dangerous elements in Sa’adeh’s party were behind bars. Second, there are many instances like Sa’adeh’s case where the rule of law was maintained under more difficult circumstances. The Nuremburg Trials is one example. In spite of the problematic situation under which they were held, justice was administered according to law and the accused were given a full and proper trial. Those condemned to death were granted sufficient time to contest their sentences:
Upon the completion of every trial the record of the case is sent to the Military Governor for review. He has power to mitigate, reduce, or otherwise alter the sentence imposed, but he may not increase its severity. No death sentence may be carried into execution unless and until confirmed in writing by the Military Governor. The defendants have been given the privilege of sending petitions for review to the U.S. Supreme Court and other high governmental offices.84
Another example is Robert Brasillach. The French author and fascist journalist was tried by the High Court and sentenced to death for collaboration on 19 January, 1945. At first, Brasillach’s attorney, Jacques Isorni tried to have the sentence overturned on procedural grounds and when that failed he made a direct request for pardon to General de Gaulle. In spite of political insecurity in France and public anger with fascist collaborationists, the General refused to sign the decree to carry out the death sentence until after all rights to appeal and the time limits for filing such appeals had been exhausted: it took eighteen days, not long enough in some opinions.85
Sa’adeh’s execution was exceptionally degrading. Few political executions in history would match the brutality and inhumanity shown during his speedy execution. When, on 20 January, 1793, the National Convention condemned Louis XVI, King of France, to death, it scheduled his execution for the next day. Louis spent that evening saying goodbye to his wife and children;86 Lieutenant Nathan Hale who was executed by the British in 1776 was granted his last wish for writing materials and wrote two letters, one to his mother and one to a brother officer;87 Charles I, on the day of his execution, was allowed to go for a last walk in St James’s Park with his pet dog. His last meal was bread and wine;88 John Brown, the American abolitionist who planned to liberate the slaves through armed intervention, was allowed to spend a few hours with his wife before his execution during which they talked about God and John Brown’s will and the education of their children;89 the Greek philosopher, Socrates, who was executed for his beliefs,90 was entitled to have visitors. On the day of his execution, all of his friends gathered to be with him one last time; Captain Beall, who was sentenced to death on the trumped up charge of being “a spy and guerrilla,” was given the chance to see his mother, who remained with him for a considerable time. In the course of the morning of his execution Beall expressed a desire to have a photographic picture of himself made, and his wish was complied with;91 Thomas More’s execution was scheduled for at least one week after judgment during which time he received a visit from his wife Alice and on the day of his execution was allowed to speak briefly from the execution block to the large crowd that had gathered to watch the event;92 Julius and Ethel Rosenberg, who were sentenced to death in the electric chair allegedly for espionage, were executed after no less than two years from the trial’s end, despite the designation of their crime as “worse than murder.”93 One execution in history that comes close to Sa’adeh’s cruel and degrading ending is that of the Duc d’Enghien, who was tried secretly and sent to his death at once “by torchlight between three and four o’clock in the morning,”94 which was also roughly the morning hour when Sa’adeh was executed.
Perhaps no execution in Lebanese judicial history has been the subject of as much criticism as the Sa’adeh case. It was, and still is, widely seen as the most striking instance of a state overstepping its legitimate boundaries. Ghassan Tueini put the matter in the following context:
Antun Sa’adeh was indicted on the charges of stirring up sedition and riots and assaulting public forces, in addition to perpetrating acts of sabotage and killings. These are charges that befit a gang leader . . . or some chieftains that the government is fully aware of, or anyone who may contemplate the possibility of triggering a squabble that involves misery, crime and irresponsibility. Antun Sa’adeh, however, did not stir up sedition for its own sake. He did not revolt, attack and kill just for the sake of revolting, attacking and killing. Antun Sa’adeh was a man of principles with a mission to accomplish.95
Whether independent Lebanese are supportive of Sa’adeh’s innocence or guilt, almost all agree that his execution was unwarranted. To most, the punishment was extremely severe and did not fit the crime. Sa’adeh was not a criminal and his criminalization by the government was carried out under the wrong law in order to facilitate the use of the death penalty. What is more, his execution does not measure up to historical precedents. Political dissenters in the Arab World, including the most rebellious among them, traditionally received much lighter sentences for their actions. They were either imprisoned or banished, but rarely executed. Even under stringent colonial rule, the penalty that was most often meted out to rebels was fairly lenient in comparison with Sa’adeh’s. It was designed to frighten would-be rebels into obedience rather than to spur them on to bolder action. Arabi Pasha, Suleiman al-Murshid, Abdul Kadir al-Jazairi, Sultan al-Atrash, Ibrahim Hananu, Abdul Rahman al-Shahbandar and many others were rebel leaders who inflicted far greater damage on the established authorities than Sa’adeh’s diminutive rebellion; yet they were not executed or degraded like Sa’adeh.
If there is any one lesson above all others to be drawn from the Sa’adeh execution, it is its pointlessness. Killing an opponent, by execution or other means, may and does perhaps bring momentary relief and satisfaction to those in power, but it does not solve the underlying conflict: it merely delays it. Physical extermination has the potential to transform a foe into a hero, which can seriously undermine the state or erode its legitimacy. It can also foster new divisions within society and a strong sense of resentment toward the authorities, particularly from those in society who do not in the first place support violence as a means of settling political disputes. Most important of all, physical extermination of dissenters, even within the proper framework of the law, leaves the government open to dangerous criticism and exposes those in power to retaliation and vengeance.
In countries like Lebanon, where the state depends on a tender balance between diverse social groups, compromise rather than vengeance is the apposite policy to pursue in times of political conflict and social schisms. Compromise was the fundamental principle on which the Lebanese state was founded in 1920, and the 1943 National Pact, authored by Khoury and Solh a mere six years before they sent Sa’adeh to his death, was essentially built on compromise. By executing Sa’adeh, the Khoury regime robbed itself of a golden opportunity to solidify internal compromise as an enduring and living principle in the political life of Lebanon.
Occasionally, exceptional circumstances may arise when a society has to resort to capital punishment to protect it
self or to protect the innocent, but it does itself a great disservice when it does so for political expediency or to cut down a political adversary who is not a criminal in the ordinary sense of the word. Executions, in such instances, serve only to perpetuate impunity and negate the concept of justice: they are yet another example of violations of the right to life.
Conclusion
Few people in history have faced their trials and deaths as squarely, calmly and with as much integrity as did Sa’adeh. The only thing that overwhelmed this enduring feature was the brutality and inhumanity meted out to the accused during his final hours. But what really makes Sa’adeh’s execution a unique event in Lebanese (and indeed Arab) politico-judicial history is that it was the first and last political execution of its kind carried out outside the realm of proper judicial procedures. Virtually nothing was allowed to disturb the smooth façade of this pre-orchestrated event.
The case was, inescapably, an accelerating tragedy. The government had from the first formed the irrevocable decision to put Sa’adeh to death, and the speed of the execution is indicative of how absolutely determined it was. It undoubtedly considered the execution as the best means of ridding itself of an irreconcilable citizen. Whether it had considered carefully the implications of its action, however, is another matter. The government probably hoped that the execution would be startling at first, but it would live in the imagination of men for a long time as a warning. It also probably hoped that it would go away quickly and with little political fuss: it miscalculated. An execution in which the greatest judicial and moral values had been crushed and violated could be blotted out from the consciousness of the people with ease. Indeed, doubts surfaced as soon as the execution was over and the government came increasingly under fire.