Hong Kong Activist Nathan Law“We All Know that Danger Is Everywhere”

In an interview, Nathan Law, one of the leaders of the democracy movement in Hong Kong, discusses the transformation of the special administrative region into a police state. He also talks about his new life in London and his hopes for German Chancellor Angela Merkel.

Interview Conducted By Jörg Schindler DER SPIEGEL

10.08.2020,


Hong Kong activist Nathan Law Foto: Ossi Piispanen / DER SPIEGEL


Nathan Law, 27, has spent the past seven years fighting China’s gradual takeover of Hong Kong. In 2017, he and other activists were sentenced to prison after thousands of Hong Kong citizens joined together to form the umbrella movement and called for free elections. In 2016, Law’s election to the Hong Kong parliament was declared invalid on dubious grounds. He fled to London this year after Beijing enacted a new national security law for Hong Kong on June 30. The law is directed against activities deemed to be subversive, separatist or terrorist from a Chinese perspective, and security forces have gained unprecedented power as a result.



DER SPIEGEL: Mr. Law, you left Hong Kong at about the same time the new Chinese national security law was imposed. Was that a personal or a political decision?

Law: It was a bit of both. Of course, every one of us with a high-profile position in international advocacy work is very vulnerable under the national security law.

DER SPIEGEL: Who are you referring to when you say "us”?

Law: Joshua Wong, for example, and Jimmy Lai, Martin Lee, and others. It has become very difficult for us to continue our work and, for example, demand a strategy of less appeasement to China. So, I talked with Joshua and we agreed that I am suitable for bearing the role of being an advocate of Hong Kong outside Hong Kong. Here, I can speak freely.


DER SPIEGEL: How has the situation in Hong Kong developed since the security law came into effect?

Law: There is a politics of fear and terror dispersing. Nobody knows exactly what is going to happen because the law deliberately leaves so much room for interpretation. And I don’t think that the security bureau has actually established themselves to operate fully at this stage -- we are only in the very first weeks. But they have already arrested individuals who were merely in possession of stickers or flags with the words "Free Hong Kong, revolution of our time.”

DER SPIEGEL: The slogan of the democracy movement.


Law: Some of my friends are deleting their Facebook posts. They are concerned, especially for their families. Many people are testing the waters, really guessing where the line is. So, the law is encouraging political fear and people self-censoring and the erosion of our freedom of expression and assembly.

DER SPIEGEL 33/2020

The article you are reading originally appeared in 

German in issue 33/2020 (August 8, 2020) of DER SPIEGEL.

DER SPIEGEL: What are your thoughts on the Hong Kong government delaying the election that had been planned for September for one year?

Law: The reason the government delayed the election is that the government is afraid of losing and is trying to buy time to reverse its very low popularity. I don’t think it will work -- people will still be very angry with them as long as they are still deploying heavy-handed approaches in Hong Kong. It shows that the law and procedures in Hong Kong serve Beijing's political agenda. Hong Kong’s government is not accountable to the people and it's a puppet that is ordered to destroy the freedom of Hong Kong’s people.


DER SPIEGEL: Is the security law the nail in the coffin for the movement?

Law: I don’t think so. Actually, it will transform the movement in a more subtle form that circumvents the restriction. And you can see that there are a lot of people voicing their opposition despite COVID-19. The atmosphere in Hong Kong has changed. We’re in a period of quietness now, but it’s just a calm surface before the storm.

DER SPIEGEL: Are you concerned about your family?

Protesters and police in Hong Kong on May 24: "There is a politics of fear and terror dispersing." Foto: Ivan Abreu / ZUMA WIRE / imago images


Law: Of course. If you look at the implementation of the national security law in mainland China, then it not only targets you -- but also your family, your friends, your colleagues.

DER SPIEGEL: You recently wrote in a newspaper column that your mother witnessed the Cultural Revolution and is about to witness another one. Isn’t that exaggerated? As many as 1.8 million people died during the Cultural Revolution.

Law: Well, I don’t want to claim that we are the most tragic people in history. But it is a cultural revolution because of the foreseeable transformation of society. We can already see the beginning of it. For example, in the national security law, there is a clause that, if you turn in someone else, you could have a reduction in your own sentence. That encourages a reporting culture. And that’s the thing that cultural revolutions emphasize -- people monitoring people. With no trust in society, the social bonds between people are getting destroyed and infiltrated with totalitarianism and the narrative of power.

DER SPIEGEL: What does your worst-case scenario look like?

Law: That none of us can run for election on a pro-democracy platform anymore. That the secret police arrest you in the early morning, and none of your friends know where you are. That you are being locked in a remote detention camp, being tortured, just like what happened to Chinese dissidents. That is the worst we can get. I see it as my responsibility to turn the fight against that into an international front.

DER SPIEGEL: As a kind of foreign minister of your movement?

Law: I wouldn’t put it that way. I am just trying to be a voice.

DER SPIEGEL: How did you spend your last day in Hong Kong?

Law: Like all the other days before. I met with my team and pretended to campaign in order to avoid worries. I needed to keep it secret because, if I were to be indicted and people helped me or they recognized my leaving, but didn’t turn me in, they would also have been in danger. I didn’t do anything special.

DER SPIEGEL: That can’t have been easy. You knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to return to Hong Kong for years.

Law: It was difficult. But sometimes, all you can do is hold back your emotions and try to be as calm as possible to protect others.

DER SPIEGEL: Did you have any troubles leaving the city?

Law: I thought I might have been blacklisted by the authorities, but it turned out I wasn’t. So, I left quite smoothly.

DER SPIEGEL: Why did you choose London?

Law: London is a very special place. I’ve been here a couple of times before. The United Kingdom has an historical relationship with Hong Kong, and they play a major role in dealing with the issue. And I think London as a media hub is good place to tell people that there is not only a warfare going on between China and the United States. Europe needs to become a more united values-bound front against the authoritarianism in China.

Law during his interview with DER SPIEGEL journalist Jörg Schindler: "The global community needs to act as a coherent front whenever they do business with China: to enforce human rights, to hold them accountable." Foto: Ossi Piispanen / DER SPIEGEL


DER SPIEGEL: Do you feel safe in London?

Law: We all know that danger is everywhere because China’s reach could be really extensive. I’ve just read news about a New Zealand car crash that killed two Chinese dissidents, and the authorities found it very suspicious. So, you have to be extremely cautious about the surroundings and move frequently, trying not to expose yourself too much.

DER SPIEGEL: Is that why we are meeting here in Regent’s Park.

Law: That’s one reason. The other is, it’s beautiful here. I love how green London is.

DER SPIEGEL: But even here, you are in some ways surrounded by China everywhere. When you land at Heathrow Airport, take a black cab into the city, eat at Pizza Express or watch a Premier League game with the Wolverhampton Warriors, Chinese money is involved everywhere.

Law: Yes, I think the West has long underestimated what’s happening with that kind of investment. There is no such thing as independent companies in China. They all have to listen to the orders of the Communist Party. That’s why the global community needs to act as a coherent front whenever they do business with China: to enforce human rights, to hold them accountable.

DER SPIEGEL: How would you judge the British government’s recent approach toward Beijing?

Law: They are moving in the right direction. And fast. At the beginning of this year, the U.K. government said it will continue using Huawei for its 5G network, but it changed course completely in several months after the pandemic and after the Hong Kong protests. But in order to address the internal human rights violations in mainland China and the brutality in Hong Kong as well as in Xinjiang, there are a lot more things the UK and others could do.

DER SPIEGEL: Such as?

Law: For example, boycotting the Winter Olympics in 2022. That would really be a strong signal. As would be recognizing Taiwan and addressing the human rights violations in Xinjiang. You could impose laws stating that companies that use Xinjiang labor should not be allowed in your country. We’ve got a lot of tools, and Germany as China’s biggest trading partner could play a crucial role in this debate.

DER SPIEGEL: But the Germans are clearly trying not to get into any trouble with Beijing.

Law: It wouldn't be appropriate for us to say we are disappointed by Germany. But we know the history of Germany as a champion of liberal values after the Wall came down, its understanding of the problem of totalitarianism and authoritarianism. We are talking about a country that has supposedly embraced democratic values more than the others, but they are still prioritizing trade far more than human rights. The least the German government could do is suspend the extradition deal with Hong Kong as the UK has done. When it comes to preserving democratic values, Germany is a very symbolic place. Chancellor Merkel should know that.

Germans are "still prioritizing trade far more than human rights."



DER SPIEGEL: What are your future plans?

Law: I don’t have any plans because I don’t even know how long I will stay in London. Our movement as a whole changed very rapidly -- its narrative, its direction, the reaction of the government, the reaction of the world -- and these factors will influence my choice.

DER SPIEGEL: Are you considering setting up some sort of parliament in exile?

Law: No. I don’t think a parliament in exile could be as powerful as the ones on the ground. As long as I feel there is a way of mandating activists in Hong Kong, my work is to support them. My duty is to be the last speaker of the Hong Kong people, should the government continue silencing the others.

DER SPIEGEL: When you took your oath as the first elected Hong Kong legislator of the movement in 2016, you quoted Gandhi: "You can chain me, you can torture me, you can even destroy this body, but you will never imprison my mind.” Is Gandhi a role model for you?

Law: Yes. Gandhi, Dr. King, Mandela, they were all honorable figures of resistance. There is a lot to learn from them, especially the tenacity when they faced difficulties, when you’re in jail for years and you still continue to be calm and committed to your cause. I think that kind of mental power is something that we really have to learn from.

DER SPIEGEL: Are you scared personally?

Law: I am worried. But I try not to be scared because that will affect your judgment. And I am much more worried about Joshua Wong and the others. That’s why I am trying to make sure that the eyes of the world are watching Hong Kong – it’s the best protection they can hope for.

DER SPIEGEL: Have you ever thought about giving up?

Law: Giving up is a very fake term. I spent a year at Yale University before the coronavirus hit. Some people might see that as a retreat from the movement, but the training I got during that year helped me to overcome the difficulties while I’m embarking on my new life in London, getting more prepared in terms of negotiability, knowledge, the way to deal with Western culture, things like that. As long as you have the heart and mind to fight for Hong Kong, you’re not giving up.

DER SPIEGEL: What do you miss most about Hong Kong?

Law: My family and my two cats. One is called Forty because I found her on 40th Street, the other one is Papa. They were stray cats. I rescued them.

DER SPIEGEL: There’s a pattern emerging here.

Law: And I also miss the atmosphere, being in a crowded place listening to people chit-chatting in Cantonese and smelling the street food. You could easily have access to traditional Cantonese cuisine or any kind of cuisine within a block and at an affordable price. All these things are irreplaceable.

DER SPIEGEL: Mr. Law, we thank you for this interview.

The "'Sputnik Moment"Cutting Corners in the Race for a Vaccine
Russia, China and India are racing to find a coronavirus vaccine. But international standards are not always being respected. Some researchers have even tested their remedies on themselves.
By Alexander Chernyshev, Wu Dandan, Georg Fahrion, Christina Hebel, Laura Höflinger und Bernhard Zand
07.08.2020, DER SPIEGEL

Doctors at a coronavirus testing site in Moscow:\ "Russia is violating internationally accepted rules." Foto: Sofya Sandurskaya / Moscow News Agency / REUTERS

When Alexander Ginzburg injected himself with the vaccine he developed, he hadn't even begun testing the substance on monkeys. That was four months ago, and Ginzburg, a microbiologist and director of the state-owned Gamaleya Institute in Moscow, says he is still feeling just fine. One hundred institute employees also agreed to be vaccinated. And all are still healthy.

Ginzburg is working on what is called a vector vaccine, which involves introducing genetic material from the SARS-CoV-2 virus into a harmless carrier virus in order to trigger the human immune system to produce antibodies. The 68-year-old Ginzburg isn't particularly interested in the risks associated with injecting a substance that is still in development. "I want to protect myself and my employees," he says, claiming that his vaccine is both safe and effective. After all, he says, he's already developed a coronavirus vaccine on one other occasion.

The Russian government is hoping to approve Ginzburg's vaccine as rapidly as possible, with Health Ministry officials saying that a decision could be made in the next several days. And if it is approved, Russian doctors and teachers are to be injected first. It is unclear whether they will have a choice.


Russia, though, isn't alone. It's just one of many examples showing how the race for a COVID-19 vaccine continues to accelerate -- fueled in part by autocratic countries like Russia and China, which aren't always so fastidious when it comes to medical and ethical standards. A research breakthrough would mean that Moscow and Beijing would be able to protect their populations more quickly and reopen their economies earlier than their rivals. A vaccine wouldn't just represent an advance in the fight against the virus, it would also translate into power, prestige and money, since the rest of the world would be clamoring to buy the remedy.

Laxer than Elsewhere

At the same time, the premature introduction of a vaccine that isn't ready for primetime can have grave consequences. Politicians must be aware that rapidly developing a vaccine isn't their only challenge, they must also convince the populace that the vaccine is safe, says Chandrakant Lahariya, an epidemiologist from India. Late-developing side effects could lead to a situation where "trust doesn't just sink in this vaccine, but in all others developed around the world."

According to the World Health Organization (WHO), laboratories in 12 countries have developed 27 vaccine candidates, which are now undergoing clinical testing. That includes teams in Britain, Japan, Germany, South Korea and the United States, but institutes in China, India and Russia have also begun the process of clinical evaluation – three ambitious emerging markets with nationalist leadership and regulatory authorities that tend to be laxer than elsewhere.


Vaccine test subject Lao Ji: "It's better if I do my part to help out." Foto: Bernhard Zand / DER SPIEGEL


With more than 865,000 coronavirus infections, Russia is currently the fourth-most affected country in this pandemic and President Vladimir Putin is pushing for a breakthrough in vaccine development. The government says that more than 20 countries from Asia, Latin America, Africa and the Middle East have expressed interest in the vaccine. In Moscow, there is talk of a "Sputnik Moment," a reference to the Soviet Union's launch of the first ever satellite in 1957, ahead of the Americans.

Epidemiologists like Vasily Vlassov of the Higher School of Economics in Moscow, though, are warning against premature euphoria. The celebratory comments coming from the Kremlin, he says, are "like Soviet-era propaganda." Vlassov is critical of the government having lowered the legal hurdles. Moscow intends to begin mass production of the vaccine in September or October even though the clinical studies haven't even yet advanced into the decisive Phase III of testing. "Russia is violating internationally accepted rules," he says.

According to WHO vaccine guidelines, every new substance must first be tested in the laboratory and on animals before it can be administered to humans. In the first phase of a clinical study, only very few test subjects receive the vaccine, with Phase II involving dozens or perhaps a couple hundred people. In Phase III, tens of thousands of test subjects are often involved. Every phase is crucial to determining if the new vaccine is safe and whether it is effective.
A "Nice Bonus"

Furthermore, participation in the trials must be voluntary. Test subjects normally receive monetary compensation, but it tends not to be particularly generous. Also, all relevant data pertaining to the trials must be made public so that government agencies and other scientists can evaluate it.

The Gamaleya Institute is apparently violating these guidelines in several different ways. Thus far, hardly any scientific data has been published, while only 76 test subjects took part in the first and second testing phases, half of them soldiers in the army. The other half were civilians, who received 100,000 rubles for their participation, the equivalent of around 1,200 euros or around three average monthly salaries in Russia. Anna Kutkina, one of the volunteers, calls it a "nice bonus" and intends to use the money to help buy the farmhouse she has long been dreaming of.

But it's not just the Russian efforts that appear to be guided by excessive zeal. Some in India are also exhibiting impatience. The country's pharmaceutical industry is the largest producer of vaccines in the world, though most of them are developed elsewhere due to a shortage of domestic innovation there. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, though, would like to change that state of affairs. At least seven Indian pharmaceutical companies are currently seeking to develop a COVID-19 vaccine, with the company Bharat Biotech having made the most progress. They have named their candidate Covaxin.

In early June, a letter sent by the director of the state-owned Indian Council of Medical Research (ICMR) was leaked to the public. Test subjects, the letter instructed, were to be given Covaxin "no later than July 7" with the goal of making the vaccine available to the public by August 15. It was hardly a randomly chosen date: August 15 is India's Independence Day.

The Indian Academy of Sciences quickly released a statement calling the timeline both "unfeasible" and "unreasonable." Producer Bharat Biotech then noted that possible approval would take at least another five months and ICMR was forced to backpedal. For health expert Lahariya, the incident shows that oversight actually works in India. "Would such a debate also have been possible in Russia and China?" he wonders.

Still, the favorite in the race for a vaccine isn't India, but China. Three of the six candidates around the world that are currently in Phase III trials have been developed by Chinese scientists. The other three companies in the final stage of trials are the British-Swedish company AstraZeneca, the German firm Biontech and the American company Moderna.

The Chinese, though, are running into a problem that other countries would love to have: They don't have enough coronavirus cases. The efficacy of a vaccine can only really be adequately tested in places where test subjects face a certain risk of infection. As a result of strict lockdown measures and surveillance measures in China, though, the virus has essentially been eradicated in the country. In response, Sinopharm is carrying out its Phase III trials in the United Arab Emirates, while Sinovac has headed to Brazil.
"A Diplomatic Fiasco"

Beijing has already promised these two countries and other pro-China nations access to the vaccine, says Yanzhong Huang, a health expert with the U.S.-based think tank Council on Foreign Relations. And that, he says, is a bit of a political risk: Given that China can't control the media in the recipient countries, there could be negative reports about possible side effects. "That would be a diplomatic fiasco for China," Huang says.

In addition, the Chinese military has administered the vaccine to an unknown number of soldiers since the end of June, despite Phase III trials not yet having begun. That vaccine was developed by army scientists in cooperation with the Chinese company CanSino.

One participant in the Phase II clinical trial from CanSino makes it sound as though they have been a bit more stringent when it comes to testing guidelines than Moscow has. During the outbreak in Wuhan, Lao Ji delivered food and medicines on his moped. He recalls being horrified at the time when he read the Chinese translation of an article in the medical journal Lancet, which described how a coronavirus patient's immune system can spin out of control.

DER SPIEGEL 33/2020

The article you are reading originally appeared in German in issue 33/2020 (August 8, 2020) of DER SPIEGEL.

He learned via the Chinese microblogging site Weibo that volunteers were being sought for a study, Lao said during an April discussion in Wuhan held just two days after his injection. "I hope that a vaccine will be developed as soon as possible," he said. "So, it's better if I do my part to help out."

The scientists, he said, extensively informed him of the risks. One month prior to the injection, he was given a comprehensive health checkup and he provided details about his health history. He also committed to having his blood taken four times over a six-month period. When asked about the fee paid for his participation, he said he couldn't remember, but added: "It wasn't much. Perhaps half my monthly salary." He didn't volunteer for the money, though, he said.

Vaccine Espionage

Although China is ahead of the others in developing a vaccine, the country has also apparently turned to its intelligence service for help. In July, the U.S. Department of Justice indicted two Chinese hackers who were allegedly searching for weaknesses in the computer systems of networks of biotech firms and other companies conducting research into a COVID-19 vaccine. The two are thought to have been operating under the auspices of an officer in the Chinese Ministry of State Security.

The biotech firm Moderna confirmed having been informed by the FBI of the attempted spying. The Trump administration has high hopes for the Massachusetts-based company and has provided its vaccine development project with almost $1 billion in funding. The company began Phase III trials in late January, becoming the first pharmaceutical firm in the U.S. to do so.

One of the three institutes that Moderna is cooperating with is the Baylor College of Medicine in Houston. The college's press office says they don't know if the Chinese hackers also targeted Baylor. But it wouldn't come as a surprise: U.S. officials are currently pursuing several investigations into suspected Chinese medical espionage in the Houston area. Indeed, it was one of the reasons that the Trump administration ordered the closure of the Chinese consulate there in late July.

The New Nuclear Dawn

Threat of Atomic Weapons Grows as U.S., Russia and China Renew Arms Race

Seventy-five years after the dropping of the first atomic bomb in Hiroshima, one nuclear non-proliferation after the other is lapsing. A new arms race is already taking shape between Russia, the United States and China.

By Christian Esch, Dietmar Pieper, Alexander Sarovic und Bernhard Zand
05.08.2020,

The testing of a nuclear bomb in the Nevada desert Foto: 
The LIFE Picture Collection / Getty Images


It’s not very difficult for an industrialized country to build a nuclear bomb. The technology is already available, and it’s astonishing that more countries haven’t done it so far.

The veto powers on the United Nations Security Council - the United States, Russia, China, France and Britain – all have nuclear weapons, as do Israel, India and Pakistan. Beyond that, there’s North Korea and perhaps also soon Iran.

Many worry that the proliferation of nuclear weapons could spin out of control. But those worries apparently don't go deep enough. Fears of nuclear war more or less disappeared after the Cold War and they haven’t returned since. The nuclear weapons of the world’s major powers seem to be in a state of slumber deep within their silos, like mythical creatures from a distant past. That impression, however, is deceptive.

In recent years, one disarmament treaty after the other has been dismantled, including the nuclear deal with Iran, the INF treaty banning land-based, medium-range weapons, the Open Skies Treaty, which guarantees countries mutual reconnaissance flights – all terminated by U.S. President Donald Trump. The New START treaty on strategically offensive weapons is also about to expire.

"We are returning to the days of the 1950s and 1960s, when each country decided for itself how many and what kind of weapons to deploy," says Vienna-based disarmament expert Nikolai Sokov.

The Washington Post recently reported that Trump is considering conducting new nuclear tests in Nevada. The decommissioned test site there is still littered with craters left behind by around a thousand underground detonations – all traces of the Cold War. A new test would be a clear indication that, after three decades of silence, a new nuclear age is dawning.

Meanwhile, Moscow is also tinkering with devices that seem to come straight out of a Cold War science fiction film. Last year, seven people died when a nuclear-powered cruise missile apparently exploded during an attempted salvage operation in the White Sea. A nuclear mega-torpedo is also under development that could wipe out coastal cities with artificial tsunamis.


And in the shadow of the two major nuclear powers of U.S. and Russia, China is expanding its arsenal, unbound by the old arms control treaties.

The fact that, 75 years after Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the world is entering a new spiral of nuclear madness is a political disaster. Some 191 countries wanted to prevent this state of affairs, including the countries in possession of nuclear weapons. That’s what they promised when they signed the Non-Proliferation Treaty, which has been in force since 1970. The treaty is full of good intentions and has served more or less as the cornerstone of nuclear arms control since it went into effect. Under the treaty, countries that are not already in possession of nuclear weapons agree to not pursue them for as long as it remains in effect. In return, the nuclear powers commit to reducing their arsenals. Doubts, though, have been growing for quite some time that the five recognized nuclear powers are prepared to stick to their part of the agreement.

That hasn’t been lost on Izumi Nakamitsu, the UN high representative for disarmament affairs. "The move toward nuclear disarmament has stalled and is now in reverse,” she says.

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The United States: Spend the Adversary into Oblivion

In April 2009, U.S. President Barack Obama gave an outdoor speech in Prague, against the magnificent backdrop of Prague Castle. It was a typical Obama appearance – he found just the right words and didn’t shy away from a bit of emotiveness and idealism.

"Today, I state clearly and with conviction America's commitment to seek the peace and security of a world without nuclear weapons," Obama said. He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize that same year, in part for his vision of a nuclear weapons-free world.

U.S. President Donald Trump (above) and Russian President Vladimir Putin (below): "We are returning to the days of the 1950s and 1960s."



Only a decade later, the world finds itself in the midst of the new arms race – and it didn’t just begin under Donald Trump’s watch.

Obama was successful in signing the New START treaty with then Russian President Dmitry Medvedev, which reduces the number of warheads and delivery systems for strategic offensive arms. The move saved the disarmament measure initiated by Ronald Reagan in 1982 and contractually sealed in 1991 by his successor George H.W. Bush and Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev. New START replaced the START I treaty, which expired in 2009.

But to get it ratified by the Republican-controlled Senate, Obama had to promise a modernization program for the U.S. nuclear arsenal. In reality, new weapons have been developed, including the American forces’ first nuclear "smart bomb.” The B61-12 model, weighing 350 kilograms (770 pounds), can strike its target with pinpoint accuracy using satellite navigation.

This February, the New START treaty is also set to expire, and members of the U.S. government have already ruled out an extension. With the end of New START, one of the last major barriers preventing an arms race between the two largest nuclear powers would disappear.

Negotiations over the issue are at least still ongoing -- that's one sliver of hope. Rose Gottemoeller, Obama's chief negotiator for New START, is optimistic. Should Joe Biden be elected, she says, the chances of an extension are "nearly 100 percent." She says that Trump also has an interest in maintaining the agreement for a short time because "stable conditions are required over the next decade” for the ongoing modernization of nuclear carrier systems.

She is also willing to grant Trump at least one diplomatic success. In the past, Moscow had set conditions for an extension of New START – in the area of missile defense, for example. But there is little mention of that now. Moscow wants to save the treaty, despite all the threatening gestures.

DER SPIEGEL 32/2020

The article you are reading originally appeared in German in issue 32/2020 (August 1, 2020) of DER SPIEGEL.

Meanwhile, the new arms race is continuing and Washington is committed to it. "We know how to win these races and we know how to spend the adversary into oblivion,” Trump’s special envoy for arms control, Marshall Billingslea, recently boasted. Just as Washington once knocked out the economically inferior Soviet Union, Russia and China could now be outdone, he said.

If Trump now wants to be celebrated by his followers for strengthening America’s nuclear power, he will merely be taking the baton from his predecessors. Next year, Trump wants to increase spending on nuclear weapons from $37.3 to $44.5 billion.

A further milestone in disarmament was the INF Treaty between Washington and Moscow. It bans all land-based medium-range weapons – the missiles that posed a threat to Europe in the 1980s.

But Russia defied the treaty by developing a land-based cruise missile with a range that exceeded that allowed by the treaty. The Obama administration was critical of Russia's treaty violations and NATO partners, including Germany, believe the accusation to be credible. Washington withdraw from the treaty in February.
Russia: Feeling Ahead

Washington's most powerful rival in the field of nuclear weapons is Moscow -- and in that sense, nothing has really changed. In terms of gross domestic product (GDP), Russia may be a dwarf, at only one-twelfth the size of the U.S. But its nuclear arsenal remains impressive: It possesses about 6,000 warheads, of which 1,500 are deployable by land, from the sea or from the air. The Russian and American arsenals alone account for more than 90 percent of all nuclear weapons. And these arsenals have been updated.

"For the first time in the history of nuclear weapons," Vladimir Putin announced, "we don’t have to catch up with anyone. On the contrary, the world's other leading nations will have to first create the weapons that Russia already has.”



"It’s hard to tell who is ahead in the arms race -- there are several races taking place at the same time,” says arms expert Sokov. "For cruise missiles, whether land-, sea- or air-based, Russia is lagging behind. As it is in missile defense, as well. Russia is leading in terms of hypersonic weapons. It is also ahead when it comes to means of evading a missile defense systems."

It is clear to Russia that if is able to achieve parity with the U.S. in any way, then it will be in the field of nuclear weapons. In the view of the Kremlin, they are the guarantor of Russian sovereignty.

That helps to explain the vehemence with which Moscow is reacting to U.S. efforts to build a missile defense system. Ever since Washington moved in 2001 to withdraw from the ABM Treaty, which restricted missile defense systems, Moscow has been concerned about the threat it poses to strategic stability. In Putin’s eyes, the termination of the ABM treaty was the first step on the road to the current problems.

Reminiscent of a James Bond villain, Putin two years ago presented computer-animated videos depicting the new miracle weapons that Russian either already possessed or was in the process of developing. They include the Burevestnik nuclear-armed cruise missile with nearly unlimited range; the Poseidon nuclear torpedo, which can render coastal cities uninhabitable; the Sarmat, a heavy intercontinental missile that can strike the U.S. from the South Pole; and the Avangard, a hypersonic glide vehicle that can carry nuclear warheads. Officially, the Avangard glide vehicles are already in service. The Sarmat is scheduled for delivery in 2021. These weapons all have one thing in common: They can supposedly circumvent U.S. missile defense systems.

"The message was: We used to be behind, but now we’re ahead. We’re not afraid of the Americans and their missile defense,” says Alexei Arbatov, the head of the Center for International Security in Moscow.

It’s difficult to get a good read on Russia’s nuclear strategy. Is it defensive or offensive in nature? "Moscow threatens and exercises limited nuclear first use,” was the assessment of the 2018 Nuclear Posture Review, a nuclear policy strategy paper prepared by the U.S. Defense Department in 2018 for the Trump administration. That argument has been used by Washington to justify the development of tactical nuclear weapons with low explosive power. But experts have their doubts about the accusation.

Putin, for his part, has officially ruled out the possibility of a pre-emptive strike. In June, the president established the "Basic Principles of State Policy of the Russian Federation on Nuclear Deterrence” in an effort to eliminate any doubts. "The Russian Federation considers nuclear weapons exclusively as a means of deterrence, their use being an extreme and compelled measure,” the principles state.

The document laying out the fundamental policy is a reiteration of what has effectively been Russia’s strategy since 2010: That nuclear weapons would only be used in response to a conventional attack, but only "when the very existence of the state is in jeopardy.” What that means, though, is an open question. "The document is ambiguous and incomprehensible even to experts,” Arbatov says, critically.

Finally, Putin’s position on existing arms treaties has also created uncertainty. The INF Treaty has effectively been destroyed by Russia’s alleged violation of the deal. Putin has also criticized it as "unilateral disarmament" on the part of the Soviet Union. "God alone," he once said, knows why the leadership at the time signed such an unfavorable document.
China: The Great Unknown

Lop Nur, China's former nuclear weapons test site, is located on the eastern edge of the Taklamakan Desert and is where China’s first atomic bomb, developed with help from Moscow, was detonated in 1964. The country went on to conduct 45 tests there by 1996. The site was even touted as a tourist attraction for a while.

China is proud of its nuclear program, but it still considers itself to be a second-league nuclear power. The Stockholm International Peace Research Institute (SIPRI) estimates that Beijing possesses only 320 nuclear warheads, about a 20th of the Russian and American arsenals. The institute further believes that none of those warheads is immediately deployable. Moreover, China has been pursuing a defensive nuclear doctrine that rules out a first strike since the 1960s, although that could be deceptive. "The truth is that we really don’t know whether China is a 'minor nuclear power,’” says military expert Zhao Tong of the Carnegie Tsinghua Center, a think tank in Beijing. "China has never released an official number of its warheads, not even a rough number." Zhao currently sees China in third place. "Most importantly,” he says. "China is a world power that is massively expanding its arsenal.”

Chinese President Xi Jinping (above) and North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un: For dictatorships, nuclear weapons serve as a kind of life insurance policy.


This is particularly true of China’s arsenal of ballistic missiles, which is now the world’s largest and is not limited by any disarmament treaty. China is especially strong in the category of medium-range missiles, which have a range of between 500 and 5,500 kilometers. "These regional systems are much more important than strategic intercontinental missiles,” says Zhao. "Because any serious conflict in which China could be involved will break out at the regional level – in the dispute over Taiwan, for example, or in the South China Sea."

China is not bound by the INF Treaty between Washington and Moscow, and medium-range missiles now even form the backbone of Chinese defense doctrine. Most Chinese nuclear weapons are currently stored on land, where they can be destroyed, which is leading Beijing to increasingly lean toward submarine-based nuclear weapons.

China is also concerned about the increasingly powerful missile defense system developed by the U.S. When the dispute over North Korea’s nuclear program came to a head in 2017, South Korea agreed to deploy the American THAAD anti-ballistic missile defense system. Beijing protested because the high-power radar is also capable of spying deep into China. There have been calls to massively expand China’s deterrent capacity. Hu Xijn, editor-in-chief of the nationalist Global Times newspaper in Beijing, has proposed increasing the number of nuclear warheads to 1,000 as quickly as possible. Even the "No First Use” doctrine, which goes back to Mao Zedong, is no longer sacrosanct.

"The majority is still in favor of sticking with this strategy,” says Carnegie’s Zhao. "But in recent years, there has been a growing number of voices in the military who disagree.” China, he argues, has a "very cynical view” of power relations. The idea has always been that, "the weaker party is always dominated by the stronger party in the end."

It is quite conceivable that China will double the number of its nuclear warheads in the coming years, including multiple warheads that can be installed on the strategic long-range DF-5 and DF-41 missiles. Beijing believes the time has come to close the gap with the U.S., to modernize its military – "and not to limit its capabilities under any circumstances, let alone reduce them." That, however, is exactly what the U.S. is demanding. Washington wants to use public pressure to force Beijing to the negotiating table, though that hasn’t worked so far.

"To pull the Chinese into (New START) is, in theory, a good idea,” former Defense Secretary Robert Gates recently said at an online event in Washington. "In practice,” however, he said it would be "impossible” because "the Chinese have no incentive whatsoever to participate.”
The New Uncertainty

"During the Cold War, all the nuclear weapons that had been stockpiled added up to equivalent of 1.5 million Hiroshima bombs. Today, there are only 100,000 bombs left that are equivalent to Hiroshima,” says international security expert Arbatov. "But that is also enough to put an end to humanity."

But it’s not only the number of atomic bombs that’s decisive – the number of nuclear powers is also growing. India and Pakistan have no plans to give up their arsenals anytime soon. Nor is North Korea likely to renounce the bomb under Kim Jong Un. Iran is also pressing ahead resolutely with its nuclear program.

For dictatorships, nuclear weapons can serve as a kind of life insurance policy. As long as they can threaten with the bomb, their opponents will think twice before intervening. And that serves only to complicate the situation.

Worse yet, the most important guarantor of peace has disappeared: the fear of nuclear war that makes compromises possible in the first place. "We have forgotten how to fear nuclear war," says Sokov. "And the bad thing about that is that if people aren’t afraid of it, it will become inevitable.”

Anticipating the possible failure of the disarmament deal concluded in 1970 between nuclear and non-nuclear powers, a group of countries initiated the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons. The treaty was adopted in a round of UN negotiations and puts nuclear weapons on par with biological and chemical weapons – prohibited weapons of war. So far, 40 countries have ratified the nuclear weapon ban treaty and it goes into effect once 50 nations have ratified it, a figure that observers believe could be reached in the next year.

At most, the ban treaty will influence the political debate. Legally, it has few consequences, since none of the nuclear powers have signed it. Not a single NATO member state is participating, either, and that includes Germany. Ultimately, the treaty is really just a symbol of good intentions at a time when the arms race has already long since restarted. At this point, getting rid of the bomb will be no easy feat.

75 Years after Hiroshima

The Nuclear Risk Is "Higher Than it has been since the Darkest Days of the Cold War"

In an interview, Izumi Nakamitsu, the United Nations' leading disarmament official, warns that the risk of a nuclear war is greater than ever. She says that the lack of dialogue between nations has created an extremely dangerous situation today.

Interview Conducted By Dietmar Pieper

DER SPIEGEL
06.08.2020


The detonation of a French nuclear bomb in 1971 on the Mururoa atoll in the Pacific Ocean. Foto: DPA


DER SPIEGEL: The global system of nuclear arms treaties is eroding. The INF treaty is history. The ongoing negotiations surrounding the New START treaty have been difficult. There is even talk of new nuclear testing in the United States. Are we about to lose everything that has been achieved during the Cold War and the time since?

Nakamitsu: Arms control and disarmament instruments provide tangible security and stability benefits. It is highly concerning that some governments appear to forget this lesson. Instead, we should work together to maintain what we have. And there are some important elements still standing.

DER SPIEGEL: What are you thinking of?

Nakamitsu: We are encouraging the United States and the Russian Federation to extend the New START treaty, which limits the number of deployed strategic nuclear warheads. The norm against nuclear testing is also one of the greatest achievements of the post-Cold War era. We consistently encourage countries to identify means that will accelerate the entry into force and universalization process of the treaty banning nuclear tests.

About Izumi Nakamitsu

Foto: M. Migliorato/ CPP/ IPA/ Catholic Press Photo/ imago images


Japanese diplomat Izumi Nakamitsu, 57, holds degrees in law and international relations from universities in Washington, D.C., and Tokyo. After her studies, she began working for the United Nations. She has also taught international relations at Tokyo’s Hitotsubashi University. Nakamitsu has served as the UN under-secretary-general of disarmament affairs since 2017.


DER SPIEGEL: The famous Doomsday Clock, published by the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, is now closer to midnight than ever. Do you think the underlying assessment of nuclear risk is correct?

Nakamitsu: The Doomsday Clock is a very effective way of informing the public about how dangerous things have become. I share the concern. The risk of use of nuclear weapons, whether intentional or by accident, is higher than it has been since the darkest days of the Cold War. But the greatest danger is through miscalculation.

DER SPIEGEL: Why?

Nakamitsu: After the Cuban missile crisis in 1962, which brought the world to the brink of nuclear war, the U.S. and the Soviet Union installed special communication channels. One very important factor is: We don’t have the same dialogue channels for risk management between Washington and Moscow that existed during the Cold War, especially at a working level. The lack of dialogue today creates a very dangerous situation.


DER SPIEGEL: So, the risk of a misunderstanding between two traditional nuclear powers is greater than unforeseen action by a nuclear upstart like North Korea?

Nakamitsu: That the dialogue between the U.S. and the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) does not seem to be moving forward is also quite worrying. We consistently encourage them to return to negotiations. Another source of concern is that the dialogue channels between the DPRK and the Republic of Korea seem to be suspended. Mechanisms that create confidence and transparency are critical for risk reduction.
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DER SPIEGEL: What can the UN do to promote nuclear arms control?


Nakamitsu: The situation in the Security Council is difficult because of a lack of great power cooperation. But the vast majority of UN member states are still committed to the goals of nuclear disarmament, non-proliferation and the complete elimination of nuclear weapons. The UN can and does play an important role as a trusted and neutral broker. We bring the different parties together: our member states and also other actors. While we must safeguard the great gains made to date, there is a need for more creativity, for a new vision and new approaches in arms control and disarmament. The UN is ready and willing to facilitate new thinking on such a vision.

DER SPIEGEL: The U.S. is asking China to enter into nuclear arms control negotiations. Do you support this endeavor?

Nakamitsu: As I mentioned before, we need a new vision for nuclear disarmament. The security environment surrounding nuclear weapons has dramatically changed in several ways. We have massive advancements in technology, artificial intelligence and autonomy, means of cyber, missiles, the use of outer space. These changes require a new approach, which will take time. One of the reasons why we are encouraging the U.S. and Russia to extend New START is to avoid unconstrained nuclear competition and gain time to discuss the new approach, also with other nations.
"The security environment surrounding nuclear weapons has dramatically changed in several ways."


DER SPIEGEL: This is where China could play a role?

Nakamitsu: The world is no longer bipolar. The great powers are in competition with each other. The U.S. and Russia still have the largest stockpiles. So, there are immediate disarmament responsibilities that are required from those two states. I very much hope that, as a global power, China wants to be a responsible actor and engage in future arms control talks. It is also in China’s interest to have strategic stability, to avoid miscalculations and ensure common security.

DER SPIEGEL: How important is the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) that came into force in 1970 for achieving a stable world order?

Nakamitsu: With 191 states as parties, it is a crucial pillar of international security and stability. It contains the only legally binding commitment to nuclear disarmament. Also, very important are the verifiable non-proliferation obligations. The NPT was crucial for maintaining peace on a global scale for 50 years and has to stay strong and healthy.

DER SPIEGEL: Should there be more international pressure on the states that are not parties to the NPT and possess nuclear weapons?
"I very much hope that, as a global power, China wants to be a responsible actor and engage in future arms control talks."


Nakamitsu: In nuclear disarmament and arms control, there is no panacea. If you just apply pressure, would it work? No, it wouldn’t. States like India, Pakistan and also Israel, which has never confirmed or denied the possession of nuclear weapons, have security concerns that are related to their regions. So, it is not just pressure that will work. We also need dialogue, to build confidence, and to increase transparency. We need to have better arguments for why nuclear disarmament bolsters their security rather than the other way around.

DER SPIEGEL: Should we differentiate between those countries which have been in possession of the atomic bomb for a long time now - and a nuclear upstart like North Korea?

Nakamitsu: This is not about the length of possession. The DPRK is a very special case because it is subject to several Security Council resolutions, which are legally binding. According to these resolutions, the DPRK has to abandon its nuclear weapons program. We always encourage this country to return to full compliance with its international obligations.

DER SPIEGEL: The NPT requires in Article 6 that the "P5 nations” – the U.S., Russia, China, France and the United Kingdom – pursue "complete disarmament” of nuclear weapons. Are all of these countries fulfilling their obligation?

Nakamitsu: Historically, they have been making progress. There were massive reductions in nuclear stockpiles, from more than 70,000 down to about 14,000 today. But the movement toward nuclear disarmament has stalled and is now going backward. All of the five powers, including France and the United Kingdom, are modernizing their nuclear arsenals. Some say this modernization is simply maintenance. But we know from a lot of research that it goes beyond that and is actually about a qualitative improvement of nuclear weapons. This is very unfortunate.

DER SPIEGEL: Are they violating the treaty?

Nakamitsu: We still hope that they will return to the disarmament path. There was a small but important gesture in March, 50 years after the entry into force of the NPT, when the P5 adopted a joint statement expressing their commitment to the treaty.

DER SPIEGEL: They also jointly expressed their strong opposition to another international agreement, the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW), saying "It contradicts, and risks undermining, the NPT.” Do you support the TPNW in spite of the fundamental criticism?

Nakamitsu: Yes, definitely. It came about because non-nuclear weapons states were frustrated to see that there was a stall in and reversal of the required nuclear disarmament under Article 6 of the NPT.

DER SPIEGEL: The TNPW was adopted in 2017 and has been ratified by 40 countries so far. It needs 50 ratifications to enter into force. What will happen then?

Nakamitsu: Many people think we will have 50 ratifications sometime next year, but I do not speculate. The TPNW will become a very important part of the nuclear disarmament regime. The core group of TPNW states continue to say that it does not undermine the NPT, but was made to complement and strengthen it. Both treaties have the common objective of pursuing a world without nuclear weapons.

"These so-called tactical weapons run a high risk of theft, including by terrorist groups."



DER SPIEGEL: How dangerous is the deployment of "smart bombs,” smaller, more flexible nuclear weapons?

Nakamitsu: Extremely dangerous. First, there is the perception danger: Because of their supposed "low yield,” people might think that limited use of these weapons in a conflict is a possibility. Then you have the escalation danger: What might begin under the notion of limited exchange will almost automatically evolve into nuclear war on a much bigger scale.

DER SPIEGEL: A large proportion of the nuclear stockpile during the Cold War consisted of so-called tactical weapons. But not a single one was ever used in combat.

Nakamitsu: This shouldn’t calm us down. With weapons that are considered to be merely tactical, military commanders might have a delegated authority to use them. The command and control structures would come under a lot of pressure. And, the last point, these so-called tactical weapons run a high risk of theft, including by terrorist groups.

DER SPIEGEL: This week, the world is remembering what happened to the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki 75 years ago. Are there still lessons to be learned?

Nakamitsu: Yes, of course. The average age of the Hibakusha, the survivors, is now about 82 years. The United Nations and civil society organizations are making sure that their message to eliminate all nuclear weapons is shared and passed on to younger generations all over the globe.

DER SPIEGEL: What are your feelings when you visit the memorials in Hiroshima and Nagasaki?

Nakamitsu: It is very moving and emotional and gives me a strong sense of commitment: Why we at the United Nations must maintain nuclear disarmament as a priority. Why we have to make absolutely sure that no major war will happen.

DER SPIEGEL: Are you optimistic that there will be a world without nuclear weapons in maybe 20 or 30 years?
"For real steps toward elimination, we need more than pragmatism."


Nakamitsu: We remain 100 percent committed to achieving this goal. Many of the world leaders during the height of the very difficult Cold War understood the danger of nuclear weapons. If world leaders today will reaffirm the objective of a world free of these weapons, then we will again have momentum toward their elimination. We talked about risk reduction, which is a very important pragmatic idea. But for real steps toward elimination, we need more than pragmatism. They require a very strong political will. And those who shape the political will are the citizens and, in most nations, parliaments. We as United Nations cannot tell governments what to do. The citizens can.

BACKGROUNDER PRE-BEIRUT EXPLOSION

End of the Illusion 

The Inexorable Collapse of Lebanon

Once celebrated as the Switzerland of the Middle East, Lebanon is facing a severe crisis. Its economy is collapsing, while electricity and adequate medical care are hard to find. The state has completely failed its people.

By Christoph Reuter
20.07.2020 DER SPIEGEL

The Tripoli neighborhood of Bab Tabbeneh: "We can't go on." 

Foto: Jacob Russel / DER SPIEGEL


It was a rather harmless beginning, as it so often is in Lebanon. Two-year-old Walid al-Manna was tired, perhaps unsurprising given the summer heat. But just a few hours later, he was no longer eating and was growing increasingly listless.

At midday last Sunday, his parents brought him to a doctor in their neighborhood of Kubba, located in the center of the Lebanese city of Tripoli. Due to the ongoing economic crisis, it was the last medical practice still operating in Kubba. The doctor said the boy's condition was serious, likely pneumonia, and he had to be taken to the hospital immediately. He also said that he had nothing to give to the boy except for a bit of the pain medication paracetamol.

The boy's father called the only public hospital in the city, but was told there were no beds available. He then began calling around to all of the some 20 private clinics in the city, but got the same answer everywhere he tried: Sorry, we are no longer accepting patients due to supply shortages. The family then began calling hospitals across northern Lebanon, before expanding their search around the rest of the country. They ensured each hospital that they were able to pay for treatment - but they were unable to find a single one that could help.


Walid was almost completely inert when his father Bilal al-Manna and some of his friends took him to the public hospital at 10 p.m., simply marching through to the intensive care unit. "The doctor really tried to help," says al-Manna. "He took an X-ray of the lungs and even performed a coronavirus test, which turned up negative."

Initially, al-Manna was told that the ventilator was defective, and then that there was no oxygen available. At 4 a.m. on Monday morning, Walid al-Manna slipped into a coma. Two hours later, he was declared dead.
Anger Yielding to Fear

Later that day, relatives, friends and neighbors carried the boy to his grave. They stood around the small bundle on the table, wiping the tears from their eyes. The imam quietly recited the funeral prayer, the father gave him a final kiss on the forehead and then the shroud was folded closed. His son would still be alive, said his father, if he had received treatment – if clinics were still accepting patients.


But the little boy's death did not produce a wave of protests, as similar cases had done in the past. It is as though the anger has yielded to fear – the fear of being dragged into the maelstrom that is accelerating by the day, pulling more and more people into hunger and desperation. It is a maelstrom that has hit Tripoli the hardest, Lebanon's second-largest city, with an estimated population of 500,000.

The funeral of Walid al-Manna: Not a single hospital could be found to help him. 

Foto: Jacob Russel / DER SPIEGEL


It is a quiet tumble into the void. The country is imploding, with hardly any electricity or diesel available and almost no replacement parts for generators. Medical equipment is no longer coming into the country because the importers have gone bankrupt, and there is a lack of medicines.


"In 14 days, we will close everything down except for chemotherapy and a handful of emergency procedures," says the surgeon Mustafa Allouch, a former member of parliament who is now a spokesman for the city's private clinics. They are no longer able to pay their suppliers, he says, and the government owes the clinics millions of dollars for the treatment of public officials and soldiers. "We can't go on."

For many years, Lebanon was the exception, an oasis of relative calm in a war-torn region. Whereas neighboring Syria plunged into civil war, Lebanon saw the steady growth of a strong middle class after its own civil war ended in 1990. There was a construction boom, and luxury hotels for Gulf tourists contributed to a booming economy. Freedom of opinion and a flourishing cultural life were more prevalent here than elsewhere in the region.
Systemic Collapse

Part of the economic upswing, however, was consistently rooted in the illusion of a strong currency. At the end of 1997, the Lebanese pound was pegged to the U.S. dollar, at a rate of 1 to 1,500. Banks paid up to 10 percent interest rates on deposits and loaned their own capital to the central bank for even higher rates – a situation that led a succession of governments to accumulate one of the highest sovereign debt loads in the world.

DER SPIEGEL 30/2020

The article you are reading originally appeared in German in issue 30/2020 

(July 18, 2020) of DER SPIEGEL.

The system collapsed in October, and suddenly, there were no more dollars available, at least not at the official rate. What began with a relatively harmless downturn in the exchange rate quickly became an avalanche – and that in a country that imports almost all of its goods. Clothes, food and fuel became more and more expensive, unaffordable for most – a situation that pushed stores and companies into bankruptcy and the people into poverty.

The coronavirus has exacerbated the crisis, even if case numbers in the country are low. But during the three-month lockdown, the hotels and restaurants suffered and Lebanese living abroad were unable to return home – and unable to bring their money with them.

Public schools and hospitals have been largely neglected by the state over the last 30 years, leaving education and medical care up to the free market, which is now pulling those private clinics and schools into bankruptcy. Meanwhile, the Lebanese pound continues to plunge.

When the crisis began, tens of thousands of people across the country took to the streets, demonstrating against the banks and corrupt politicians. The revolution, as they called it, had begun, and it was centered in Tripoli. DJs set their systems up on balconies and the crowds danced in protest – even including young women, which is unusual for the conservative city.

Surgeon Mustafa Allouch: "In 14 days, we will close everything down except for chemotherapy and a handful of emergency procedures." 

Foto: Jacob Russel / DER SPIEGEL


The protesters demanded the installation of a technocrat cabinet, the return of the billions that corrupt politicians had misappropriated and reforms to the country's election laws. At that time, the pound had already fallen to half of its previous value. Tens of thousands of people gathered in Sahat al-Nour Square in Tripoli, with many camping out in tents. In winter, when the exchange rate continued to fall, the first bank branches went up in flames. Tires were burned in the streets and demonstrators blocked the roads.
A Kind of Ghost Town

Today, the pound is only worth a sixth – on good days, a fifth – of its previous value. Bank deposits, salaries, pensions – they have all shrunk to breadcrumbs. But these days, protests are nowhere to be seen. Citing the need to implement measures to counter the coronavirus spread, the military and state security agencies cleared al-Nour Square a few months ago. Now, even though coronavirus measures were lifted several weeks ago, the square remains empty. Only the barricaded bank entrances, fortified with graffiti-covered steel plates, recall the popular uprising. People seem to have capitulated in the face of the crisis.

Tripoli has essentially become a kind of ghost town. Life continues on the surface, with people out and about and cars on the roads, though fewer than normal. But entire rows of shops are locked up, while in others, shopkeepers sit around for hours waiting for a customer to show up, or they just sit on the sidewalk outside because there is no electricity to light the interiors.

The meat in the last remaining butcher shops is bright pink, as though it has been thawed and refrozen several times, and there are no more bananas available in the city. In front of a mosque in the city center, an imam is trying to sell corona masks that nobody wants to buy. Price tags are changed daily, while in the cafés, elderly men sit for extended periods in front of a single espresso, saying nothing. Nobody is yelling, nobody is protesting any longer. Everyone is doing their best to keep their composure, as though they were extras in their own downfall.


Tripoli residents: "Thefts are on the rise."

 Foto: Jacob Russel / DER SPIEGEL


And it's not just the poor who are struggling. The middle class, in particular, is collapsing, a group that had until recently lived lives similar to their counterparts in Europe. They had an apartment and a car, took annual vacations abroad, and had enough money for meat. Running water, electricity, reliable hospitals, supermarkets and decent schools – all that was a given. Now, though, their savings are melting away like the last spring snow on the peaks of the Anti-Lebanon Mountains.
"Thefts Are On the Rise"

Amer Barudi, a personnel manager who lost his job, and his wife Maya, who earned good money as a yoga instructor, have left Tripoli and are now farming his father's land outside the city. They are pragmatists more than they are escapists. "We began in February with parsley," says Barudi, during a walk around this three-hectare (7.4 acre) plot. "Now, we have eggplants, tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, different varieties of peppers and mint."

They announce their daily harvest via WhatsApp to their 180 regulars, along with the dairy products like yoghurt and cheese they produce with milk from 60 sheep, a few goats and four cows. They could sell more than they are able to produce. Four watchmen keep an eye on the animals at night, because, as Barudi says, "thefts are on the rise."

A resident of Tripoli: As though they were extras in their own downfall. 

Foto: Jacob Russel / DER SPIEGEL


The Association of Dentists of Tripoli has organized a protest rally. Yahya Hassan, a doctor and civil rights activist, arrives in a Porsche Cayenne SUV, with others showing up in their BMWs or Mercedes. But don’t let that fool you, Hassan asserts. "Our accounts have been frozen, and we are unable to import anything.” Filling compound has become so expensive that no one can afford treatment. Just getting a single tooth fixed is the equivalent to a worker’s entire monthly salary, so no one is coming.” Banks only provided loans in dollars, and "they are now six times as expensive. We can’t pay them back anyway.”

The dentists have invited a Harvard-educated Lebanese banker to the rally to explain the crisis to them. Nicolas Chikhani rapidly outlines the creation of the bubble that could have been seen if anybody had wanted to. "On what basis could the central bank pay 15-percent interest to the banks? Our government doesn’t produce anything. Technically, the banks, the central bank and the state are bankrupt. Their debts are higher than their assets."

The astronomical interest rates on bank deposits was the bait everyone was more than happy to swallow. But it was like poison for an already restricted economy because hardly anyone was still investing, with most preferring to collect interest instead.
Left to Their Own Devices

Despite interruptions from power outages, Chikhani speaks about central bank head Riad Salamé, who seemed to conjure up money by magic - money that is now gone. But the details of Salamé's complicated system of "financial engineering” are too complicated for the audience, even for doctors. When Chikhani finishes, they ask: "Now what about the dollar?" They want to know when the storm will pass – they are looking for a miracle. The economist can only shake his head: "Nothing will stop the collapse of the pound," he says.

In Beirut, the government's talks with the International Monetary Fund (IMF) have been suspended without any results. Even after weeks of talks, the Lebanese either could not or would not quantify the individual debt levels of banks, the central bank and the government. The differences in estimates between the two sides are in the double-digit billion range.

Leading the charge in opposing any audit of the government’s finances has been Nabih Berri, speaker of Lebanese parliament and one of the country's wealthiest politicians, with an alleged $78 million in assets. But without transparency and without reforms, neither the IMF nor the European Union or even the country’s former mandate power, France, will be willing to grant billions to save this corrupt system.

Meanwhile, in Tripoli as elsewhere in the country, people have been left to their own devices. Only a few private soup kitchens are providing for the growing number of needy, but they are having trouble soliciting donations. "We distribute food to neighborhoods we’ve never been to before, where no one has ever gone hungry,” says Fida Hajjeh, the manager of the NGO Sanabel Nour. "There are so many people crowding in front of our distribution sitze that we have had to hire security guards."

Across the country, police are registering a "new form of theft," an official told the news agency AFP. "It involves baby milk powder, food and medicines."

Tripoli is home to the two richest men in the country, the Mikati brothers, who together are worth around $4.5 billion. They are keeping a low profile these days and it isn't even known if they are still in the country.
A Product of Lobbying

Their wealth comes from the country's most successful mobile phone company, and Najib, the younger of the two, served for years as prime minister. "I have spoken to him several times in recent months,” says a frustrated Mustafa Allouch, the surgeon. "He promised to help, but he isn’t doing anything. Nor are the other superrich. This state just doesn’t work. It never has."
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"Modern-Day Slavery": Humiliation and Abuse in Lebanon's Kafala System By Thore Schröder in Beirut

Lebanon never grew together as a nation, Allouch says, adding that it was pieced together by France a century ago from the leftovers of the Ottoman Empire. Ultimately, he says, it was the product of lobbying by rich merchants, particularly in Beirut. "But we have never felt like we belonged together."

Shiites, Sunnis, Maronites, Armenians, Greek-Orthodox Christians or Druze: All groups eye the others with suspicion, he says, their leaders stirring up fear of the others and only joining together to plunder the state. "We’re a kind of Frankenstein with make-up," Allouch says.

The radiance of Lebanon, and the myth of a "Middle Eastern Switzerland," has always been fragile, and no city has experienced this as painfully as Tripoli. Here, in a kind of remake of the civil war that continued for years until 2014, the inhabitants of the two poorest quarters would fire shots back and forth at each other: the Alawites from Jabal Mohsen and the Sunnis from Bab Tabbeneh.

The people in Bab Tabbeneh have always been poor, says Hassan Shair, a shopkeeper, but now everyone is in debt and more and, he claims, more people are resorting to theft to survive. A week ago, he says, he watched as a man with four children stood in the street screaming that he needed bread. Three days ago, he says, the battery was stolen out of his van. "It’s a disaster,” he said. "I can’t afford a new one.” He says that only drugs remain cheap, for whatever reason, and the number of junkies is growing.

"Hey, Ahmed!" He pulls a staggering adolescent with glazed eyes from the sidewalk into his store, "Look at him: all strung out!" Ahmed says nothing, looks confused for a moment, stumbles back out into the open and disappears.

There is an uproar outside, with a group of women making a ruckus and throwing rice into the street. It sounds not unlike a wedding, but all there is to see is just a man in sweatpants. He was released early from prison – because of the coronavirus pandemic, but also because the state can no longer feed the inmates.
Watching His Country Fall Apart

"We’re all going to go crazy here,” says Shair. "Or we'll starve. Or both."

A muscled man in a wheelchair pushes himself down a street, almost everyone greeting him as he rolls along: "Hey Toufic, how are you?” For years, Toufic Allouch has mediated between the different sides, traveling all over the country in that role, seeking to do his part to overcome the constantly bubbling mistrust born out of all the unresolved mistrust of the civil war. He took part in the fighting himself in Tripoli, until he was gunned down in 1983 by a group of drunken young Lebanese serving the Iraqi Baath Party.

Six of the seven marksmen were killed by his friends in retaliation, Allouch recounts soberly. At some point, though, he took a stance against the violence. He became an internationally successful wheelchair basketball player and coach and even joined football star Zinédine Zidane for dinner on one occasion. Now, though, he is in Tripoli watching his country fall apart.

He says he can hardly blame the men who sought to kill him for throwing their allegiance behind the Iraqi dictator back then. Even today, very few Lebanese identify themselves with their country. "I was prepared to die for the Palestinian cause,” he says.

His brother Mustafa, the surgeon, meanwhile, was more loyal to the Soviet Union than to Lebanon. Today, he says, it is Hezbollah that sees itself more as an Iranian spearhead than as a Lebanese party. "The roots are all the same: We want to be everything but Lebanese."

Still, he says, the country's collapse and the lack of overseas interest in Lebanon's fate does have, at best, one silver lining: A resumption of the civil war seems unlikely for now. "Who could afford it?" Allouch says with a laugh. "A single Kalashnikov costs $2,000 to $3,000.” Even a war must be paid for.

Deeply Wounded CityA Portrait of Beirut After the Explosion

Following the devastating explosion in the port, anger with the political elite is growing in Beirut. People there are trying to pick up the pieces, but many of them have nothing left to lose.

By Christoph Reuter, Thore Schröder und Lorenzo Tugnoli (Photos)

14.08.2020



View of Beirut from a destroyed apartment: "This cursed state does nothing to help the people, nothing." Foto: 

Lorenzo Tugnoli / DER SPIEGEL


Sometimes, it's just a trickle. But it never stops - the tinkling, jangling and crunching of glass splintered into hundreds of thousands of pieces. Even a week after the gigantic explosion on Aug. 4, which sent a powerful shockwave racing through Beirut initially at 2,500 meters per second, the city is still filled with the unceasing sound of shattering windows and glass panes.



Thousands of helpers and neighbors are sweeping up the shards as bulldozers push the shimmering blue turquoise piles together. Sometimes, entire glass facades collapse into the streets from several floors above. These are the sounds of a deeply wounded city.

That day, 2,750 tons of ammonium nitrate, a highly combustible ingredient in both fertilizer and explosives, detonated in the port of the Lebanese capital, the result of a chain reaction of unfathomable incompetence by the state, its security apparatus, the army and public agencies. The violence of the explosion ravaged the houses and apartments of around 300,000 residents. The death toll, according to the Beirut Bar Association, stands at 240 people, with more than 6,000 injuries.


Every evening since then, stone-throwing demonstrators have been marching toward parliament, and have been met with tear gas from the police. Prime Minister Hassan Diab's government resigned on Monday after just seven months in office, remaining in an acting capacity until a new government is chosen. "Corruption is bigger than the state," Diab said in parting, "and the state is paralyzed by this (ruling) clique and cannot confront it or get rid of it."

DER SPIEGEL 34/2020

The article you are reading originally appeared in German in issue 34/2020 (August 14, 2020) of DER SPIEGEL.

There were protests and resignations last fall as well, when the criminal pyramid scheme of the central bank imploded, sending the Lebanese currency into freefall and plunging the country into its worst economic crisis in decades. Thousands of people protested back then as well, for months on end. Prime Minister Saad Hariri was forced to resign, but things did not improve.


For decades, Hezbollah, the Shiite militia party, has been warning of the threat posed by Israel. At first, most of those who survived the explosion instinctively thought it had been caused by a rocket, by an Israeli air strike. It was all the more painful to realize that it was once again the complete indifference of the Lebanese elite that had plunged the country into ruin. "It sounds strange, but I would have preferred an Israeli missile," says a businessman from southern Lebanon who came to Beirut to help out. "The reality is so humiliating."

All of the illusions that the Lebanese may still have had about their country were shattered just like the picture windows of the high-rise apartments looking out onto the sea. Hezbollah and the others who hold power are refusing to make concessions, and they’re the ones with the weapons. But ever since the city recovered from the initial shock, rage has been growing. Even those who never wanted to give up on Lebanon, despite it all, are now losing hope. Calls for revolution are even coming from former mayors and from palace owners.

"It Makes No Sense Anymore"

A man is apoplectic as he demolishes the last intact window frame in a courtyard on Monday morning and screams at a small truck as it drives off. "I'll throw it into the street! I'll throw everything into the middle of the street," he screams, until his wife calms him down.

Passersby near the epicenter in the port: "It makes no sense anymore.” Foto: Lorenzo Tugnoli / DER SPIEGEL


The truck is the first sign of life from the city administration, six days after the catastrophe. But the driver is refusing to cart away debris that is not piled neatly on the side of the road. Residents have to do that part.

"This cursed state does nothing to help the people, nothing," fumes Pierre Aisa, once the long-time mayor of the swanky Beirut suburb of Baabda, where the country's president has his seat. Now, he is taking care of his 85-year-old mother-in-law who survived the detonation with injuries.

These days, conversations often end in anger and bitterness. Many mention violence as a last resort. The architect Ely Boustany owns one of the oldest homes in Mar Mikhael, one of the badly damaged areas of the city. He spent two years restoring the place. "We sent away all of the real-estate sharks who wanted to buy it, tear it down and build an apartment building," he says, carefully making his way up a half-destroyed staircase.

He shows off the deep red walls in the salon, precisely restored to their original appearance, and in the next room, the calligraphic quotes about Beirut from the legendary singer Fairouz and from Lebanese poets. "We wanted to restore a nugget of Beirut history as a hotel. It would only have had four or five rooms, but it was my passion." The hotel was to open at the beginning of this year. "But then came the economic crisis, and we hoped we could open in the summer. Then came corona. And now this."

Following the explosion, he says he called the city administration, the culture office and building officials. "I spent two days on the telephone to ask for help. Then, some nitwit from the city came by and said that the house was old and built of sandstone - no wonder it collapsed. That was it."

He pauses quietly and swallows hard, searching for words. "It makes no sense anymore. If you want to buy the house, go ahead."
Completely Obliterated

Gemmayze, the worst-hit neighborhood just across from the port warehouses, is Christian, but it has always been a microcosm of Beirut. Poor new arrivals would find shelter near the port while the superrich, like the Sursock family that resettled here from Constantinople in the 18th century, built their palaces on the hill demarcating the southern edge of the district. Ten or 15 years ago, Gemmayze became trendy, with bars and restaurants opening up all over. But the living, prewar relics remained, such as the corner store of Nasri Dekmak, who specialized in repairing chandeliers. Or Super Out, a shop that still sold used cassette tapes. And then there was Roupen Sulahian, whose father opened a prosperous company in 1952 selling ball bearings for large machinery. It was based out of a building that had remained unchanged since then – until Tuesday evening.

Ceremony for the victims Foto: Lorenzo Tugnoli / DER SPIEGEL


It has now been completely destroyed. Sitting among the wreckage of his life, Sulahian speaks hesitantly at first, then more energetically, about all that the business and his family had lived through. It’s a way of illustrating what this now means. "During the civil war, the 'Green Line,' the front, was just 100 meters from here." A piece of shrapnel from back then is still stuck in the molding of a cabinet. "But we stayed open, because business was good! Back then, there were more than 300 large companies in the country. We were the official representative of FAG, the West German ball bearing producer."

His grandfather came to Beirut in 1932, he says. "As a small boy, he was smuggled in from Gaziantep in a basket on the back of a donkey during the Armenian genocide perpetrated by the Ottomans. We have worked hard for three generations to build up a good livelihood. Lebanon was my homeland, I never wanted to leave. But now?"

He escaped the explosion unscathed, he says, because he closed up shop at 2 p.m. that day and went home. "We've hardly had any customers since the economic crisis," he says. "Of the 300 large companies, only 22 remain. The others have given up over the decades."

High above Sulahian, 67-year-old Robert Sursock is sitting in a halfway intact pavilion surrounded by his park-like garden as a half-dozen Germans in protective clothing and helmets knock on his door. The disaster experts from THW, a German government aid organization, and International Search and Rescue (ISAR) are going door-to-door to check buildings for structural integrity. Torgen Mörschel, a matter-of-fact structural engineer with an eye for detail looks at the meter-long cracks in the palace's load-bearing walls, whose façade is bowed outward. The weight of the roof is the only thing lending it much stability, says Mörschel, "but a strong wind could be enough to relieve that pressure, which may cause the wall to buckle, whereupon the collapsing roof could destroy everything."

Street scene: Chance decided between life and death. Foto: Lorenzo Tugnoli / DER SPIEGEL


The Sursock Palace has survived 160 years, a decade-and-a-half of civil war and two world wars almost untouched. It is Beirut's landmark palace. Now, its fate hangs on a gust of wind. Roderick Sursock nods. He, too, will later say that only a revolution and violence can get rid of this system.
Aid from Abroad

Thousands of volunteer helpers have been streaming into the streets since the explosion. Armed with brooms and buckets, they carry debris and shards of glass out of apartments. Many of them are from Beirut, but others are from Saida in the south or Akkar way up north. Municipal governments from smaller towns like Keserwan and Jounieh have sent bulldozers and dump trucks, while soup kitchens and first-aid stations are being operated by Caritas and small NGOs. They have set up open-air sites where neighbors can list the items the need most urgently. The Real Estate Developers Association is passing out plastic sheeting that can be used to temporarily replace shattered windows, and Orienthelfer, a German aid agency, has moved its field kitchen - which they received from the German military – from a refugee camp in the Bekaa Valley to Beirut, along with a few Syrian refugees. They are now delivering meals to the elderly and infirm in their half-destroyed apartments.

At midday on Sunday, Father Eli from the mountain village of Bkfeir sets up an improvised altar right in front of the hulking ruin of the Lebanese electricity agency. "To offer solace," he says. "Especially here! Especially now!" The singing of the small congregation competes with the tinkling and jangling of glass in the surrounding area. "Father, we ask for your mercy." A young man with a full beard and a Che Guevara T-shirt crosses himself incessantly.

Professional aid workers from France, Germany, Italy and Britain arrived within the first two days. The British took charge of dividing the city's neighborhoods into sectors of responsibility so they wouldn't get in each other's way. The Italians and French are searching the port for the dead while the Germans are primarily operating in the hills to the south.

On Thursday of last week, French President Emmanuel Macron strode through the Rue Gouraud, Gemmayze's destroyed main street, where he was cheered on by locals, who decried their own president as a "terrorist" and chanted "Revolution!" They saw him, it seemed, as their savior. Six days later, German Foreign Minister Heiko Maas came to inspect the damage in the port area.
Where Is the State?

Indeed, it feels as though everyone is doing their part. Everyone, that is, except the Lebanese state. Soldiers and police are merely warning passersby not to come too close to buildings in danger of collapse. Or they are pressuring homeowners to sign papers making them responsible for the condition of their houses as soon as they set foot inside.

There hasn't been even the smallest gesture of reconciliation, no state effort to help all those who have become homeless. None of the people who became billionaires through state-tolerated corruption have spoken out or even made a donation. It is as though the blast wave from Tuesday blew away the last illusions of volition and aptitude among the ruling class and their supporters in the state institutions.

For the residents of Gemmayze on that Tuesday of the explosion, tiny decisions and coincidences determined whether they lived or died. A Syrian worker named Saïd left the port shortly before 6 p.m. A Red Cross employee named Ayman picked up his car at 6:01 from a parking lot that just seven minutes later, was transformed into an inferno of twisted metal.

Jessica Bazdjian, a young nurse, decided to show up for her nightshift at the St. George Hospital in the Geitawi neighborhood one hour early. She had just passed through the entrance when the blast wave hit the hospital. "Her coworkers say that she was struck by the large glass door," says her sister Rosaline. Just four minutes earlier, Jessica had sent her mother a WhatsApp message as she did every day: "I made it to work."

The rest of the family felt the blast from their home in the suburb of Bsalim, and Jessica could suddenly no longer be reached. They all headed into the city, parking their cars once they hit the traffic jam on the outskirts and riding on motorcycles driven by strangers the rest of the way. "When we got to the clinic, everything was dark and destroyed," says Rosaline.

Soldiers before wreckage of a ship Foto: Lorenzo Tugnoli / DER SPIEGEL


Badly wounded patients were being treated in the streets, lit up by mobile phones, says Rosaline, who recognized her sister by her white trainers. "The ground around her was covered in blood. Jessica had a hole in her neck." Dead at 23. Her colleagues fought hard to save her, twice injecting her heart with adrenaline. Even a week after Jessica's death, the Bazdjians still hadn't heard anything from the Lebanese state. "But we had to pick up her body early the next morning," says her father George. "They didn't have electricity in the hospital for the dead. The people up there in power didn't even take care of that."

Hundreds of people showed up to the memorial ceremony on Monday evening for the four nurses who died, sitting in the ruins of what had been a 385-bed hospital. The blood on the ground had turned mostly black. Two priests, one Roman-Catholic and the other Greek-Orthodox, conducted services, with the families of the four victims sobbing quietly in the first row. Images of the dead were set up between dahlias and bouquets of roses next to an icon of St. George, the dragon slayer.

A piano player played a score from the movie "The Piano." "We wish we could have done more, much more," said a colleague in her eulogy. "We failed, but we were simply overwhelmed."
"Something Isn’t Right"

Amid the destruction, the death of one person sometimes meant others were able to survive.

When the Beirut Fire Department dispatcher on duty in Qarantina, the poor neighborhood east of the port, received the first calls from police that Tuesday at 5:55 p.m., saying that something was burning in the port, he wanted to know more. "I made it clear to them that I would not be sending any firetrucks until we knew what was burning," Raymond Farah said in an interview with Al Jazeera. "An officer from state security called back and said it was just a warehouse with fireworks. So I gave the dispatch order."

It seemed like a routine call. Nine firemen and a paramedic jumped into the truck and the ambulance and raced the short distance to the port, waved through the gate by armed guards. Farah was in constant radio contact with the responding firefighters. "They said something isn't right. The fire is huge and it sounds crazy." They asked him to send reinforcements, so Raymond Farah sounded the alarm, with all available firefighters grabbing their helmets and putting on their heavy jackets. They were running down the stairs to the trucks when the blast wave hit the building. Scalding hot air, the pressure from the blast and myriad bits of glass and stone shot through the top floor.

It was safer down below in the garage. Farah, who was unhurt, helped the injured and then waved down a moped rider on the street, who took him down to the port. "When we had managed to make our way through to near the epicenter, not a firetruck or ambulance could be seen. It was as though they had evaporated." He began searching desperately for his people. "But the biggest thing we found was about the size of a hand."

Memorial service in city center: "We failed.” Foto: Lorenzo Tugnoli / DER SPIEGEL


The incorrect information provided by the port security guard led to the death of the first 10 who responded, but also saved the lives of the 100 or more who would have immediately been dispatched for a massive fire. And it was only because of the last call from the fireman on the scene that they all ran downstairs where it was safer.

None of the guards at the port was aware of the deadly danger that lurked, says Raymond Farah. "If they had known what was being stored there, they all would have run away. Only the very top of the command chain was aware."

And they had been since 2014, when the ammonium nitrate from an abandoned freighter called Rhosus was brought into port. The port administration had repeatedly demanded it be removed. Now, the Interior Ministry, the customs agency, state security and the army are all trying to pass the buck to the other.

An investigative team from state security had sent an alarmed memo to the offices of the president and prime minister two weeks before the Aug. 4 explosion, something the recipients don't deny. President Michel Aoun says he told the security agencies to "do what is necessary" and said, "I'm not responsible." He also said he had no authority to deal with the port directly. Prime Minister Diab, who has since resigned, also said that he immediately passed the warning along.

But nothing happened.

Then something did happen - just enough to trigger the catastrophe. To at least fix the holes in the warehouse, a team of Syrians was sent out to weld them shut, a member of state security told the news agency Reuters. But, the official said, nobody bothered to tell the Syrians the warehouse was full of tons of ammonium nitrate along with confiscated fireworks.

A spark from the welders ignited the fireworks. The heat from that fire detonated the ammonium nitrate.