Since engaging with literary works, I have deliberately steered clear of two domains: politics and religion. Politics, with its volatile shifts and dependence on circumstance, lies outside both my concern and my purpose. Religion, too often mired in blind extremism that suffocates dialogue, does not align with the spirit I seek in my writing. From the outset, I chose to devote myself to literature and the arts—fields that remain constant, enduring, and unwavering in their course.

Yet the book by journalist Antoine Salameh, The Maronites and the Shiites in Lebanon – Convergence and Conflict (Naufal/Hachette Antoine Publications, 466 pages, large format), pulled me beyond my literary commitments and into the realm of history. And history, after all, is inseparable from the course of literature. What first captivated me was Salameh’s style. A seasoned journalist and media figure, he writes with elegance born of culture, profession, and pedagogy. His prose carries readers effortlessly into the world of his text, so that they neither tire nor notice time slipping away, as they move through its pages.

With Salameh, we journey back to the Middle Ages, to the formative era of sectarian Lebanon and its two oldest communities: the Maronites and the Shiites. Across centuries of medieval and modern history, they alternately diverged and converged, each maintaining internal cohesion through shared convictions and faith. Salameh’s lens falls on the rivalry between the two groups, a contest shaped by the pursuit of territory, demographic expansion, and political influence. 

Yet Salameh does not pretend to offer solutions. Instead, he opens a space for understanding, grounding his narrative in extensive documentation and rigorously verified evidence. Readers are thus invited to draw their own conclusions—or to step back altogether from Lebanon’s entrenched sectarian atmosphere, system, and trajectory, which continues to raise the question: for how long must the future remain bound to sectarian foundations and fanaticism? The historical record offers clear examples, from Mount Lebanon to Mount Amel, where Maronite and Shiite communities sometimes converged in cooperation, and at other times diverged in conflict.

The story begins at its roots: with the rise of the Maronites along the Orontes River, defined by historian Kamal Salibi as distinguished by the legacy of a community named after a monk. In parallel, Shiism took shape in the wake of the assassination of the Rashidun Caliph Uthman ibn Affan in 656 AD, reaching its zenith under the Fatimids, with Muhammad Ali Makki noting its spread across Jabal Amil. Between these “two mountains” emerged solidarities that were unified—but never fused—under the framework of Greater Lebanon. The sectarian system, by design, left ample space for confessional groups to grow in relative autonomy.

Maronite historians emphasized the distinctiveness of Mount Lebanon during the Ottoman Empire, while Shiite historians stressed the historical rebellion against the allied authorities. Together, these perspectives illuminate the dual currents of convergence and divergence that have long shaped Lebanon’s sectarian landscape.

The symbolism of identity itself reflects this divergence. For the Maronites, Mount Lebanon drew legitimacy from its ancient Phoenician roots—the “White Mountain” as a marker of continuity and uniqueness. The Shiites, meanwhile, anchored their mountain in Arab lineage, tracing its name to the Yemeni tribe of Amila and affirming its Arab origins. In this contrast lies a deeper tension: two communities, two histories, and two symbolic claims to belonging, each reinforcing Lebanon’s enduring sectarian duality.

With meticulous precision, Antoine Salameh traces Lebanon’s medieval and modern trajectory, moving seamlessly through its defining moments. He pauses at Jerusalem during the Crusades, highlighting the setbacks endured by the Shiites and the upheavals experienced by the Maronites. He examines the shifting circumstances under Bashir Shihabi’s rule, the tragedies of the era of the two deputies, and the devastating famine that marked the years of the Mutasarrifate. From there, he follows the divergence in political affiliation between Maronites and Shiites with the creation of Greater Lebanon, carrying the narrative into the era of independence and, ultimately, to the eruption of the 1975 war. That conflict, with its tragedies and scars, deepened Lebanon’s wounds and entrenched its divisions, leaving a legacy that continues to shape the nation’s sectarian landscape.