In response to a question about his government’s plan regarding banks and depositors, Lebanese Prime Minister Nawaf Salam, stated that he himself is a victim of the illegal capital control imposed by a bank on his deposit.
Salam’s response reminds us that we now have a Prime Minister who is a victim, just like over a million other Lebanese citizens. It is likely that Salam deposited his end-of-service compensation from his tenure at the United Nations or one of the universities where he worked—only for a renowned Lebanese bank to swallow his savings, just like it did to the rest of us. Or at least, that’s how we imagine it.
So now, at the head of the government, we have a depositor who has suffered from the same banking theft—a theft enabled by banks, the government, and the central bank. We have reason to be cautiously optimistic. On his first day in office at the Grand Serail, this man declared that he would abolish the term “deposit write-offs”—a phrase pushed by financial experts and economists working for the banks, as well as the advisors of ministers from the corrupt political elite stretching from Ain el-Tineh to Beit al-Wasat, passing through Clemenceau and Haret Hreik, all the way to Rabieh and Batroun.
We now have a Prime Minister who resembles us—someone who wants his deposit back, just like we do.
Do you remember Hassan Diab when he was Prime Minister? He requested that the American University of Beirut transfer his end-of-service compensation in fresh dollars to his overseas account, while his own citizens stood helplessly at the doors of banks that had stolen their savings. The difference between prime ministers is now clearer than ever.
Meanwhile, the banks are gearing up for a fight. The mafia that looted nearly $100 billion has begun activating its media, legal, and political machine.
Riad Salameh is in prison, yet the banking mafia has not learned its lesson—because it still holds the money, and with that money, it can hire an army of lawyers, journalists, and politicians.
The battle will be over who bears the losses. We are in a stronger position with this new government, but the outcome is far from certain. The banks have political parties represented in the government, loyal media outlets, and, most importantly, offshore accounts that they can use against us.
Nawaf Salam may be on our side, but among his ministers are board members of banks, and a finance minister inherited from the very system that orchestrated the financial heist. So, the battle is far from settled. It requires organization, mobilization, and the collection of more evidence to bring before the courts—and there is no shortage of evidence.
A lawsuit against us was filed by Antoun Sehnaoui, the owner of Société Générale Bank, adding to the series of frivolous legal cases aimed at silencing us.
But the more significant development is what the Association of Banks in Lebanon has done. It has restructured itself, renewed its leadership, and expanded its membership in preparation for blocking any attempts at reform, resisting banking sector restructuring, and refusing to share in the financial losses.
The banks refuse to admit they are bankrupt. They reject the idea that they must return the enormous profits they accumulated during the financial engineering schemes. They refuse to lift banking secrecy on their board members.
However, the new government has promised something different—a shift that could redefine the relationship between depositors and banks: judicial reform.
The judiciary has stood by the banks until the very last moment. It prevented holding banks accountable for violating the law by enforcing capital controls. It ignored the fact that banks transferred more than $10 billion abroad during the two weeks of financial lockdown. It turned a blind eye when we published evidence of a transfer benefiting a high-ranking judge—not to mention the documented transactions involving Riad Salameh’s son and other influential figures.
The latest scandal involves Optimum Invest, where a financial report exposed a hidden account at Banque du Liban used for suspicious financial operations. These transactions, carried out on behalf of the central bank, were particularly rampant during the financial engineering years and involved nearly $8 billion of unknown fate.
And once again, the judiciary is waiting for Judge Ghada Aoun to reach retirement age before quietly closing the case.
The judiciary was brutally hijacked by the ruling system, as Nawaf Salam was told by one of Lebanon’s judges.
If judicial reform truly happens, it must include holding the banks accountable.
There is nothing clearer than the banks’ violations of the Code of Money and Credit. There is nothing clearer than the crime they committed—a crime that must not go unpunished.
