– Walid Khoury
The dispute taking place today is not just a dispute over numbers. The amount of $35 million seems shocking in a country reeling from collapse. But more important than this number is the path chosen by the Audit Bureau, the limits it set for itself, and the most dangerous question: Are we in the process of establishing legitimate financial oversight, or are we facing a precedent that might open the door to exploiting judicial powers in a disguised political struggle?
The decision taken by the Audit Bureau regarding the file of the “Qasabian” building and Blocks B and C in Bachoura was not an ordinary decision. The fines are large, the names carry weight, and the message is clear: ministers are not above financial accountability. On the surface, the move appears to be progress toward long-overdue accountability. But in essence, the matter reveals a deep constitutional dispute over the extent of the Bureau’s right to hold ministers directly accountable, bypassing the constitutional process of prosecuting them.
Here the great importance of the legal advice prepared by Judge Dr. Elias Nassif appears, not to defend people, but to reaffirm the authority of the Constitution. This consultation does not deny the necessity of accountability, but rather rejects turning oversight into an alternative path to the constitutional text.
Articles 70, 71 and 80 of the Constitution are clear: impeaching ministers is within the jurisdiction of the House of Representatives, and their trial shall be before the Supreme Council for the Trial of Presidents and Ministers. These are not just procedural details, but rather an entire system designed to control the accountability of the executive authority within a delicate balance between powers. When the Audit Bureau goes beyond this framework, and considers itself competent to prosecute ministers as they are included in the concept of “public employee” or “whoever interferes in the management of public funds,” it not only exercises financial oversight, but also reinterprets the constitutional system from a supervisory angle.
The consultation hits the core of the problem: jurisdiction is not formal, but rather a constitutional guarantee. Allowing any party to bypass the path specified in Article 70 under the pretext of protecting public money means practically emptying the text of its content. What is more dangerous than that is that it creates a parallel path to the Supreme Council, and establishes a duality of references that may end in contradictory rulings, which harms legal security and weakens the prestige of institutions instead of strengthening it.
The second dilemma concerns the characterization of the action. Is what happened in the lease and purchase contracts a “breach of the minister’s duties” or “ordinary crimes”? The consultation clearly distinguishes between the two cases: if the act is directly related to the exercise of ministerial powers, even with an error of judgment, it falls within the scope of constitutional accountability. However, if the elements of a criminal crime are present, such as bribery or embezzlement, the natural course is judicial justice. Creating a third path through expanded financial censorship means an idiosyncratic expansion of texts beyond their original structure.
Added to this is the issue of the minister’s capacity. The Minister, according to the Staff Regulations, is not a traditional public servant. Subjecting him to “judicial control over employees” raises a fundamental question: Is it permissible to bring the holder of a constitutional capacity into a framework of administrative accountability that was originally designed for the administrative employee? The consultation answers in the negative, considering that the minister is subject to a special and constitutionally defined system of accountability, and that expanding the concept of “as an employee” to include him is a circumvention of this system.
In a country like Lebanon, where politics intersects with the judiciary, the political dimension of the issue cannot be ignored. Expanding the powers of a regulatory body in this way, without a clear constitutional resolution, opens the door to the possibilities of political employment. Today is a decision that affects one team, and tomorrow a decision that affects another team. Who guarantees that censorship does not turn into a pressure tool in power battles? Who ensures that the interpretation of powers does not become dependent on political circumstances?
The consultation does not ignore public money, but rather repositions its recovery within a coherent legal path. It also raises the issue of the passage of time, and confirms that considering a violation “hidden” must be proven conclusively, otherwise the prosecution will be dropped. It also stresses that the personal responsibility of the minister from his own money is not a general rule, but rather a specific exception in the Public Accounting Law. Imposing huge financial responsibilities on the minister outside this framework may satisfy angry public opinion, but it threatens to turn ministerial work into an open risk, which may lead to paralysis in public decision-making.
Moreover, justice is not limited to one person. Contractual decisions pass through companies, boards of directors, committees, expert reports, and regulatory bodies. Limiting responsibility to the minister alone may seem politically attractive, but it does not always reflect the complex administrative reality. True justice requires dismantling the entire decision chain, not just a political title.
The issue, then, is not a defense of a minister or an objection to accountability. It is a battle over the limits of powers. If oversight turns into open jurisprudence that goes beyond texts, the result will not be a stronger state of law, but rather a state in which authorities are in conflict. If each authority begins to define for itself the limits of its jurisdiction, the constitutional system will turn into a space for interpretation, not a binding framework.
Accountability in Lebanon is required, even urgent. But extraconstitutional accountability is not a reform, but an adventure. Reclaiming public money is a legitimate goal, but the path to achieving it does not pass by breaking the constitutional hierarchy. Between the Audit Bureau’s decision and Judge Nassif’s consultation, the question remains outstanding: Do we want solid justice that respects the constitution, or resounding decisions that may fall at the first higher judicial test?
The answer will not only determine the fate of this file, but it will also determine the shape of the relationship between censorship and politics in Lebanon. If the boundaries are not drawn clearly today, we may discover tomorrow that the $35 million precedent is much more dangerous than the number itself.
