Updated June 5, 2025 at 5:45 p.m.*
-Analysis-
BEIRUT — Fadel Chaker resembles the nation of Lebanon. The singer’s story has the distinct features of a country drowning in its contradictions. It holds beauty and life but also hatred and death, a sweet voice but also the buzzing sound of passing bullets.
His story resembles the calm country on the Mediterranean coast known for tourism, art and a love for life, slipping into the abyss of civil and foreign wars, yet never completely losing its elements of beauty.
Chaker is the stark embodiment of these dualities within the Lebanese character, represented in one person, in one face — at times writhing from musical ecstasy, love and tenderness, and at others overflowing with anger, hatred and a thirst for revenge.
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His biographical documentary series Ya Ghayeb, on the Shahid platform reinforces his deep resemblance to Lebanon. In the 2025 mini-series, he speaks truthfully — with tears and pain — of his childhood, his poverty and being placed in an orphanage despite having a family.
He also discusses his transformation from a singer of romantic ballads into a person consumed by rage after the Syrian revolution. He describes how repression by the regime of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad deeply affected him, pushing him in directions he later regretted.
He spoke of his conflicting feelings in a language filled with contradictions — between sectarian rhetoric and Islamic terminology used by extremists, and the voice of a wronged and calm man, who was lured into the trap of sectarian conflict and vertical division the country was experiencing.
There is no doubt that many viewers felt lost: Should they believe Chaker?
What he says, they know well. And perhaps they lived it themselves, regardless of their affiliations. This injustice that turns a victim into someone angry, nearly mirroring the monster. And the sectarianism that drags thoughts into the abyss, just as during the civil war cars dragged corpses through the streets.
A shocking turn
At the end of 2012, Chaker shocked his fans by announcing his retirement from singing and disappearing from the spotlight. He chose a completely different path, drawing closer to a hardline religious discourse and radical Islamic organization of Lebanese Sunni cleric Sheikh Ahmad al-Assir, which stood in opposition to Hezbollah, especially after Hezbollah fighters supported Assad in the Syrian civil war.
His change became physically visible: Chaker’s gentle smile was replaced by a long beard and a sharp look that reflected the buildup of years of feeling wronged and disappointed in a country where contradictions coexist.
From musical concerts to battlefields, Chaker found himself in the heart of a confrontation he never imagined — an internal confrontation between who he was and who he became. Between the singer of joy and melody and the extremist filled with anger. At that point, Chaker wasn’t just confronting the contradictions of Lebanon’s state; he was fighting his own internal contradictions.
The sweet-voiced singer fell into the swamp of Lebanese sectarianism.
This contradiction reached its peak in the summer of 2013. Armed clashes erupted between al-Assir’s supporters and militias affiliated with Hezbollah, then escalated into confrontations between al-Assir’s militias and the Lebanese Army, in which blood was spilled on both sides. The army chose to confront the militia and impose stability by force. But it also chose to confront one militia in favor of another. That fact was so clear it was almost unbelievable.
Hezbollah’s power rhetoric and internal dominance turned the battle into a conflict between the Lebanese army and al-Assir. But the actual battle was a purely sectarian one between Hezbollah and al-Assir’s group. This reflected the sectarian conflict occurring in Syria as well, where Hezbollah was defending the Assad regime against Sunni Syrian militias.
The battle far too great for Chaker’s fragile character. The sweet-voiced singer fell into the swamp of Lebanese sectarianism. He was photographed in that battle as part of the violent scene. Did he really carry a weapon, or was he merely in the company of those who did? The question puzzled everyone. Some saw in him a betrayal of himself and his artistic past. Others considered him a victim deceived by a game bigger than him. Was he completely innocent? I don’t think so. But who is the judge? And who passes the sentence?
On trial
Before his judicial trial, Chaker was subjected to a public moral trial. His fame made him a target for everyone. Fans of his old music remained quietly loyal in their hearts, touched by his beautiful songs and joyful voice. Others unleashed their fury upon him, saying that he was tainted by the hatred ignited by war. In the Lebanese imagination, he had two faces: one lit by the melodies of the past, and one darkened by gunfire and images of armed men around him. Yet this is a common trend in Lebanon, where individuals may find themselves torn between a love for life and art, and a drift toward waves of sectarianism and violence.
In the judicial trial, the military court sentenced Chaker in absentia, first in 2016 to five years in prison, and then in 2017 to 15 years of hard labor. There was a glimmer of hope in 2018, when one of the sentences was overturned and he was acquitted. But that hope quickly faded in 2020 with a new harsh sentence to more than 20 years.
Human Rights Watch has documented many violations committed in military courts.
Yet Lebanon’s judicial system is as complicated as Chaker’s fate. The military judiciary is a subject of controversy and fear. Many whisper about these exceptional courts as if they belong to an underworld with their own laws. There, in the shadows of closed courtrooms, a civilian is tried before a judge in military uniform, where fear reigns supreme. Those who have been down that road speak of confessions extracted under duress, of stifled screams behind walls, and of trials lacking the simplest conditions of transparency and fairness.
Human Rights Watch has documented many violations committed in military courts, where the defendant becomes a number, and the truth becomes distorted by the impact of torture and fear — not to mention the politicization of verdicts and the dominance of Hezbollah over the court in many instances.
Who demands the trial and handover of Chaker to justice? Hezbollah — a party convicted by an international court of assassinating Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri? Did the party hand over the five accused to justice? Or did it celebrate them as “martyrs” who died in its war for Assad in Syria?
His redemption — and ours
These glaring contradictions in the Lebanese justice system deepened Chaker’s sense of bitterness. He sees — like many Lebanese — a skewed scale used to weigh verdicts. He sees in the ruling class men who boast of their roles in the civil war, and officials who speak casually about dragging the country into foreign wars on Iran’s altar, without any accountability or admission of guilt.
He saw, as we all did, how Hezbollah and the rest of the system obstructed Judge Tarek Bitar’s work in the case of the devastating 2020 Beirut port blast. He saw how, under political pressure, the judiciary closed the file on the assassination of longtime Shiite political activist and researcher Lokman Slim — before reopening it after Hezbollah’s grip weakened following severe blows from Israel.
With all his contradictions, Chaker is mirror of Lebanon.
In clips on his Instagram page, Chaker asserts his victimhood, saying that he is a Lebanese citizen and that he wants to appear before a civilian Lebanese judge. That is the crux of the matter. He knocks, with a bloodied hand and a broken heart, on the door of justice in a fragmented country, asking to be heard by a just judge — not a politicized one subject to the whims of the powerful.
Chaker, with all his contradictions, is mirror of Lebanon: an artist who carried in his voice the hopes and dreams of the people, only to find himself in the midst of a storm of hatred and violence. His story resembles all of ours. And it represents the ultimate test of Lebanon’s cruelty upon us, as individuals. And in this painful test, Chaker seeks his redemption — just as we all seek Lebanon’s.
*Originally published on May 11, 2025, this article was updated June 5, 2025 with enriched media
