Marcel Khalife responds to charges against him

At the court steps

Today, I am heading to court to defend myself against an incomprehensible charge. I do not think I am going alone. I am accompanied by a rich tradition of artistic and cultural expression, past and present, the fruit of more than one generation. This tradition arises out of an overwhelming yearning for freedom, a deep desire to free the human mind from forces bent on deforming and distorting human thoughts. Yet, as I head to court, I am troubled by an inescapable feeling of dread which lies heavily upon my spirit and existence, a feeling of human sadness and cultural disgrace.

I am sad because in this part of the world there is a force that can take an artist to court and indict him, not for a crime he committed, a harm he caused, a disloyalty or treason, but for singing of love and freedom and trying earnestly to convey the conditions and concerns of his society.

I am sad because I have always based both my work and private life on a love of freedom. I believed this goal to be common of all human beings, except for those that are perverted and ill-natured.

I am sad because I assumed that the appreciation and support I received throughout the entire Arab world are a testimony to my success in expressing my nation's spirit in striving for freedom. This support reveals a nation whose conscience has been enriched by a religious tradition that has provided its people with a depth of intellectual and cultural dimensions.

The appreciation and love showered on me resulted from my advocating my people's concerns, ambitions, hopes, and their longings for a better future while maintaining their connection to their past and without losing their authenticity.

My faith in my nation remains unshaken, as does my belief in its basic elements - the spiritual, cultural, and moral, as well as the aspiration for a well-deserved place in this world.

As I head to court, I am not only saddened but also feel a profound cultural shame and great disappointment, shame and disappointment for a country that indicts an artist on the dawn of a new century. The accusation against me stems merely for relating passionately to a Koranic verse which opened my soul to vast horizons in ways no other text is capable of doing. I stand accused because I believed that the spirit of religion is more broad and tolerant than the interpretations by those who appoint themselves as guardians of our faith and morality. I also believed that inquisition courts were things of the past.

I am heading to court, burdened with pain because this trial may degrade the moral heritage of which I am proud. I took such care that my works unify people - my people - and not divide them. I addressed people's sense of dignity and resistance, and was strengthened by their faith and their rightful claim to their land. I am going to court without the slightest feeling of guilt, though I do not know whether I am entering an Triumphal Arch of freedom or a monument of defeat for the future. I am going, not only to defend myself, but also to defend freedom.

Translated from the Arabic by Manal Swairjo

Marcel Khalife wrote this essay for the Lebanese newspaper As-Safir.

Address to the court session

First, I would like to ask a simple question:

Why is it that the Palace of Justice, which, in fulfillment of its basic purpose, opens the session in the name of the people and issues its verdicts in the name of the people, has its gates closed in the face of the people?

Is it because a creative artist has been dragged to the defendantÍs cage, while we stand at the on the cusp of a new century, that we found it necessary to lock all entrances to the Palace of Justice, more accurately the Palace of the People?

In any case, we are all here perhaps because we still believe in freedom and justice.

Why do you prosecute me?

I shall not believe that quoting or incorporating a fragment of a QurÍanic verse in a poem, and reciting it with reverence and spiritual sensitivity justifies this lawsuit, this dubious decision, this rabid campaign, this prosecution.

Why do you prosecute me?

Is it because I have so keenly embarked upon a quest to elevate Arab music to a cultural status that empowers Arabs to address themselves Ü and the world around them Ü with eloquence that befits this nation?

Is it because I have protested in a civilized manner against the banality and stagnation in which the Arab individual blissfully lives day and night, exposed to the "artistic" creations transmitted and aired by the Arab earth stations and satellite networks?

Is this why I have been found so deserving to face an accusation as cold as a murdererÍs blood?

One would suppose that drug dealers, currency traders, and merchants of electoral votes would be dragged to court to be questioned about their deeds that wound our national and religious dignity. But to drag the song, "I am Joseph, Father" along with its singer to the defendantÍs cage is the height of effrontery against the rights of the mind to conceive as it may conceive and to interpret its own consciousness.

What have I committed to deserve this whirlwind? I have no need for it. I have formulated the song "I am Joseph, Father," written by the poet Mahmoud Darweesh, with a densely symbolic texture in which Joseph represents innocence, beauty, truth, and sacrifice, contrary to what was stated in the bill of charges.

Even if we abandon this conservative approach and consider the matter directly connected to the QurÍanic text, "Surat Yusuf," what harm would befall a poet if his poem, his creative text, included a fragment of a scriptural verse?

Did I commit an outrageous precedent when I recited this refrain and thus deserved all this woe? QurÍanic citations and allusions have been a constant cultural and literary tradition that Arabs have kept alive from the time of the emigration to Yathrib to our time of emigration to the unknown in the twentieth century.

Have we become so desperately lost that the song "I am Joseph, Father," so full of truth, reverence, and sensitivity, turns into a bomb shell that threatens to shatter and destroy our whole edifice?

Have we so misread each otherÍs faces that a song of resistance becomes a "devil" that poisons our sacred texts, that we, who are the guardians of identity and integrity, would rob others of the ecstasy of gazing upon whatever makes them feel that they are a people with a mission on earth.

Who would believe that we, in an unguarded moment, would, just like that, be targeted by the law, when it was we who restored the law to its place on earth amidst the debris of that chaos of banality, futility, and war?

Who would believe that we would be prosecuted by a state whose right we defended to emerge from the age of militias as the phoenix emerges from its ashes?

And who would believe that a song that represents a burning moment of the collective Lebanese, even Arab, conscience, would be condemned?

Can any human being imagine Lebanon putting its artists on trial? Lebanon would then be putting itself on trial. For who would dare judge the conscience of the people without subjecting the whole nation to a loss of self-confidence?

Lebanon erred against itself when it waged war against itself for fifteen years, producing an abundance of gratuitous death, far exceeding the bounds of self-sufficiency. It is our hope that it will not err once more against its image as a fulcrum of freedom where ideas, opinions, and symbols are exchanged without having to pay political tariffs (in the name of religion or anything else). It is our hope that Lebanon will not succumb to insulting itself and insulting Arab culture by insulting the song "I am Joseph, Father."

The public has expressed its opinion regarding this unjust accusation that has been opposed by the forces of civil society (labor, students, the legal profession, the press corps, and proponents of culture), in magnificent initiatives of solidarity that embodied one of the most beautiful and powerful scenes of awakening of the collective Lebanese conscience. In this great torrent of initiatives of support launched by the vibrant social forces throughout the country, the objective was not only to defend Marcel Khalife, but also to defend Lebanon and its great national gains and assets. Once again, I salute those who created this scene of mass solidarity and defended the home country by defending justice against injustice. I am grateful to the outstanding moral support they all have demonstrated and in whose warmth I bask today amidst the chill of this court of law.

In the end, my concern is to exercise my sacred natural and legal right to defend myself against this false accusation as a Lebanese citizen. It was never an ambition of mine to stand in a defendantÍs cage in my own country, accused of a charge that I know beforehand has a bigger and further aim than what it claims. This false, unrighteous accusation that has been leveled against me represents the worst personal offense that I have ever sustained in my life and the most vengeful attack against my artistic works by any entity. This offense, which I consider of dubious intent and malevolent nature, is an affront towards me and towards all those who have embraced these songs and this music from the Gulf to the Pacific Ocean. Indeed, this accusation is an insult to the national spirit.

Marcel Khalife