by Alexander Reindl, University of Heidelberg
When France and Great Britain were given mandates over former Ottoman territories in the Levant by the League of Nations after the First World War, they were also obliged to lead the newly created units towards independence and to provide them with constitutions and a so-called ‘Organic Law’. Albeit belatedly, France fulfilled this mandate for the Greater Lebanon created in 1920 from the end of 1925 on. The French High Commissioner for Lebanon and Syria at the time, Henry de Jouvenel, finally promulgated the constitution on May 22, 1926. It came into force the following day. It is no longer possible to reconstruct exactly how the constitution came into existence and which people were involved due to missing or contradictory information. The only thing that is certain is that the constitution was drawn up by a specially created commission. However, it is not clear whether this was set up by the Representative Council elected by the Lebanese population or directly by the High Commissioner himself. The cartoon shown here depicts a kind of assembly dealing with the constitution.
The caricature appeared on March 29, 1926 – during the writing process of the constitution – in the magazine al-Aḥrār al-Muṣawwara (roughly: Liberal Illustrated), which from January 1926 was a weekly supplement to the daily newspaper al-Aḥrār. This newspaper had been published since 1924, but was discontinued in 1927. The magazine dealt with current political and social issues in a literary, critical and humorous way. The magazine’s editor, Ǧibrān at-Tuwīnī, sympathised with the French Mandate, but was also critical of its policies, e.g. with the Frenchs’ dealing of the Great Syrian Revolt of 1925.
Having a closer look at the caricature itself, a theatre scene is depicted which appears to represent a parliament or a similar political gathering. As this forms the background and is drawn very vaguely, this part of the caricature probably only forms the context. The important people are in the foreground: four people with their backs to the viewer and one person in the prompter’s box. A dialogue between these five persons is shown below the picture. The four people on stage are characterised by this as advisors. One of them complains: ‘Muffle your voice, Šibl, because we hear the voice of the “prompter”. [Here is a blank space whose meaning has not been clarified.] That spoils the performance/representation.’ In response, the prompter, identified as Šibl Dammūs, says: ‘You counsellors are not actors/representatives. We are in the assembly of actors/representatives who are used to performing/representing. The prompter’s task has already been fulfilled. Fear not. It is intended that the play will come to an end, and we are only two acts short.’ Finally, the four advisors say in unison: ‘We trust in the Commission and only ask that it grant us the draft constitution. Here we go.’
The dialogue plays with the ambiguity of the words ‘tamṯīl’ and ‘mumaṯṯil’, both of which can be used in both a theatre and a political context. This fits in with the setting, which initially pretends to be theatre. At the same time, it shows a real-world situation with the assembly as well. It seems as if the illustrator does not take the assembly seriously, however, but sees it as theatre in which the outcome of the play is clear from the outset and the actors adhere to a fixed script. This is where the prompter comes into play who tries to enforce this script while the four counsellors do not want to speak according to it but want to present their own concerns.
The counsellors can be identified as members of different religious groups by their headgear, albeit not clearly. However, it appears that three Christian people are standing opposite a Muslim counsellor. Only the prompter is named: Šibl Dammūs was a member of the commission that drew up the constitution and may even have been its chairman. The prompter’s task is to read the text of the play and help the actors if they forget the text. As such, he has no influence on the production itself. It is therefore obvious that Dammūs, as prompter, already knows the direction the constitution should take. On behalf of the director – i.e. the French mandate power – he should drive the production forward and bring it to the desired conclusion. Dammūs’s statement reinforces his figurative depiction. He admonishes the four advisors not to present anything of their own. However, they resist his instruction and want to influence the constitution in a democratic process.
The cartoon offers an insight into the social debate surrounding Lebanon’s new constitution. On a visual level, this process is depicted as staged and predetermined while on a textual level, a conflict of interests is revealed. Dammūs, as prompter and possibly chairman of the constitutional committee, probably wants to adhere to the guidelines of the French mandate, while the four advisors, as representatives of various religious communities, probably want to communicate their concerns and opinions on the constitution to the committee and thus influence the constitution. The caricature leaves open the extent to which the local population was able to participate in or influence the process. Interestingly, the committee remains silent. If it is elected by the Lebanese people, it appears as its silence means it has no say in the creation of its own constitution. Nevertheless, this constitution – with some amendments – is still in force.
OpenEdition suggests that you cite this post as follows:
Emin Kağan Heybet (December 6, 2024). Cartoon of the Day 5: On the Boards that mean the World, or Discussing the Lebanese Constitution of 1926. Caricatures and Cartoons in a Global Perspective. Retrieved January 17, 2025 from https://doi.org/10.58079/12v2q