The Jackie Chamoun incident may have ultimately been a storm in a D-cup, but the uproar surrounding the leaked video of Lebanon’s most famous winter Olympian was a reminder of Lebanon’s shortsighted attitude to sport and its obvious commercial potential.
Indeed, the fatuous position taken by the Lebanese Olympic Committee in declaring the skier’s actions – she had posed nude in the snow – as tarnishing Lebanon’s sporting reputation, only served to shine a light on the pitiful support it gives to aspiring sporting hopefuls and remind us that what reputation we have has been stained by corruption.
It was, to borrow a sporting metaphor, a spectacular own goal.
It is no secret that sport is not as ingrained in Lebanese society. We do not rank among the heartier nations of the world – the United States, Canada, Australia and New Zealand et cetera – where sporting excellence is seen as equal, or in some cases superior, to academic achievement.
Take our attitude to what passes for a national football league. Sport can be the glue that holds together even the most chaotic societies – look at India and its maniacal devotion to cricket – we Lebanese can’t watch our favourite teams, which have to play each other in dystopian silence in empty stadiums because the authorities don’t want the headache of having to deal with sectarian tensions spilling onto the terraces.
So instead of finding ways to defuse the threat of violence and hatred by for instance, promoting the league as family friendly, the authorities simply shut it down. As a result, our players, most of whom are part-timers, earn less than they could if the sport embraced obvious commercial opportunities.
But being Lebanese, they find other ways to make money. In 2013, a couple of dozen Lebanese footballers playing in Lebanon and Asia were investigated for match fixing. Two players were banned for life, while the rest received fines and bans for up to three seasons, mostly for “throwing” games at the behest of international gambling cartels. Very classy.
Last April, three Lebanese referees were charged with accepting sexual favours in Singapore, while in May our basketball federation, which represents arguably our most high profile sport, was banned from participating in an international competition after it emerged that the sport had been hijacked by a political dispute.
All pretty shabby really, but if the clubs that play in the English Premier League, which in the mid-1980s was a pit of seething mob hatred and crowd violence, can become the envy of the football world – generating revenues of US$4.7 billion in the process – then surely there is nothing stopping Lebanon from shaking off the shackles of sectarianism and corruption and building a positive, clean and potentially profitable, domestic football league.
It is, as the Americans would say, a no-brainer. For a start, it would boost national morale and create jobs.
There would be the merchandising and TV rights, which would eventually attract foreign players. There would also be exciting opportunities for corporate sponsorship in which local brands could reach out to a whole new demographic. Clubs could get involved with sport at schools and footballers, now on a decent salary and unlikely to take bribes, would become genuine roles models.
And guess what? The national reputation that we supposedly all hold so dear would also be enhanced. If our league were commercially successful, Lebanon would gradually be known for its football, perhaps even as a regional model for organised sport. It is something that should not be underestimated.
I’m not suggesting that Lebanon will become a football superpower anytime soon. But Lebanon’s authorities need vision.
In the meantime, Lebanon’s sports bodies would be well advised to keep their own counsel when it comes to declaring what is and what isn’t appropriate for our sporting reputation. Because from the available evidence, Ms Chamoun has done more to promote Lebanese sport, and bring a smile to our faces, than anyone in our short history.
Michael Karam is a Beirut-based freelance writer