It is common now for revolutions and protests to have names: the Arab Spring across the Arab world, the Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia, the Velvet Revolution in Armenia, the 17th of October protests in Lebanon, or, less conventionally known as the WhatsApp revolution. While the catalyst for the 17th of October protests was the poor socio-economic conditions, a government proposed $6 tax for using WhatsApp was the tipping point. I wasn’t in Lebanon then, and I am reminded of that each time I criticize the current situation, as if it were a bigger sin than skipping my own father’s funeral. Apparently, you have no right to complain about Lebanon unless you were there in 2019. Even if, like everyone else, you've witnessed your hard-earned savings vanish into the void, you are forever marked with the scarlet letter of "privileged expat": We should be thankful for the divine opportunity to be away from home, to drift from family, and to build a life in a place that may or may not align with our identity. However, we cannot express our frustration because, in this country, one must always "thank God."

In this part of the world, thanking God is a universal practice, irrespective of one's religious inclinations. Even atheists should apparently praise God. After all, we should constantly thank God for whatever we have because, compared to the abundant misery around us, we are living in paradise. To be honest, it doesn’t take much to beat the misfortunes of others - God isn’t exactly pulling out all the stops here!

Now, let's shift our focus away from religion and divinity, as this post is dedicated solely to the venerated messaging app that holds a special place in every Lebanese heart: WhatsApp. A tax on WhatsApp sparked a rebellion – or at least it did for those who were physically present at the time (I'll graciously exempt myself this time). Regardless of the triumphs, setbacks, or overall impact of this WhatsApp revolution, the attachment to the app lives on. The revolution never ended, and instead of “voicing” their demands on the street, people exercise their right for self-expression through “voice notes.” No one bothers with conventional calls or text messages anymore; it's all about voice notes. Originally designed for multifaceted communication, WhatsApp is now exclusively used for sending voice snippets. I recently returned to Lebanon to find that text messaging is so last season; it's all about voice notes now and everyone expects you to respond in kind. A friend says it's laziness. I honestly can’t put my finger on the drive behind using voice notes. If you're too busy to type, why not just call? Maybe sending voice notes is the sender's way of respecting your time. But if that is true, how can I explain voice messages that contain urgent questions or requests for information? Do people expect you to listen to those anywhere you are? Apparently, yes, judging by the many people who now play their voice messages for all to hear.

In retrospect, maybe this 2019 tax might have been the government’s genius plan to keep us all quiet after all… because, you know, aside from thanking God, our other national pastime is crafting conspiracy theories. I've never been pro-government, but I'm thankful I wasn't here in 2019. If I had been, I wouldn't just have supported a tax on WhatsApp; I might have even advocated for a ban on voice notes. But I wasn’t there, and I have no right to complain. So, I can only exercise my right to refrain from listening to or responding to voice notes and in the process write a post about it that no one will read – because I should have recorded it instead!