The first of January 1948 marked the second anniversary of the evacuation of foreign armies from all the territory of the Lebanese Republic. On this occasion a special program was held at Radio Lebanon, at which the two gracious writers Mrs. Adal Alameddine and Mrs. Ellen Rihan spoke in the name of the Lebanese Women's League. We are pleased to set down their two splendid addresses:
No sooner was I asked to give an address at this celebration than memory carried me back to the night of the eleventh of November, nineteen hundred and forty-three, and my eyes shed two tears: a tear of pain at the memory of that historic night, and a tear of joy at that night's results—namely independence, freedom, and evacuation.
Ladies and gentlemen:
As we celebrate tonight the third anniversary of the evacuation of foreign forces from our dear country, we celebrate the pride of our valiant national army; we celebrate the evacuation of forces that tried—God is witness—many times to crush the true Lebanese national spirit and to pull down the edifice of sacred liberty.
The foreigner departed from this country by the strength of its sons, after he had seen that the means he followed to humiliate the country were barren of profit; that the Lebanese spirit cannot be abased or subdued; and that the thorns of humiliation and enslavement would never be able to strangle the spirit of sovereignty and independence.
O Lebanese! A word from a Lebanese lady who glories in her Lebanese identity and in her freedom, hoping that you will take it in the spirit in which it was written.
The evacuation of the foreigner from our country is no protecting amulet, nor a warranty sufficient for our happiness and our glory. There are armies of ignorance and illiteracy that must be fought with learning and knowledge. There are clouds of envy and mutual hatred that must be cleared away from hearts, and specters of self-seeking and egoism that I see taking body and thickening in order to destroy us—and these, upon my life, must dissolve and vanish.
O Lebanese! You were one hand in driving out the external enemy; be then—I implore you by God—one hand in destroying everything that would disfigure the blessing of this freedom and embitter this sacred memory.
I see that the road is arduous and exhausting, and I see that we are in the most dangerous stage of life, for we are in the stage of transition from bondage to freedom, from the hell of the Mandate to the paradise of independence.
The life of a nation, gentlemen, is not measured in years but in generations. We are still at the beginning of our life, and we cannot help falling into mistakes; so do not despair, do not demand the working of
miracles, and do not multiply criticism—for that, upon my life, is the cheapest of means for dampening zeal and resolve. Rather, be the model of sincere patriots, and let each of us work within his own sphere and his own particular capacity.
The authorities and the people together—and I repeat, together—are responsible for the happiness of this beloved homeland; so let them cooperate, united, to attain this goal.
Nor can I, in this place, on this night in which we bid farewell to the present year and shall in a few hours welcome the new year, do other than offer the greetings of the two feasts to all Lebanese, men and women, at their head His Excellency Sheikh Beshara El-Khouri, first patron of the independence; and bow with respect to the men and the women who built the edifice of this independence—to the sons and daughters of Lebanon who gave us the chance to keep the memory of the Feast of Evacuation. And I remind them that there still lies before them ample work in this field, namely to give the precious and the cheap alike for the evacuation of the usurping forces—for the evacuation of the forces of Zionism from our sister, dear Arab Palestine. Complete, then, your sacred mission, and liberate Palestine as you liberated Lebanon.
Long live Lebanon, sovereign and independent! And long live Palestine, safe and Arab!
I once knew a venerable Lebanese old man who wrote to his son in the Mahjar after the First World War, saying: “We are now twenty days old, for twenty days ago the Turkish and German armies evacuated our country.” Then I knew this same old man to shut himself away on his farms in the mountain after the foreign soldiers entered our country, so that he might not see a foreign army treading this soil as a despotic ruler. And I knew this old man, days before his death, addressing his son, who had returned from the Mahjar, saying: “The end of my life has drawn near, and death does not frighten me. But one thing grieves me: that my bones will be buried in a land the colonizer occupies.” Rejoice, then, O venerable elder, and let your bones rest at ease, for Lebanon is now ours — sovereign, free, and independent — and no