Paper short abstract:

This paper dwells-with two trees resistantly rooting two landscapes in the seasoned battlefield of South Lebanon. Exploring in counterpoint two landscapes of war, one docile, one untamed, it turns on the Arabic word maskun to describe the way landscape both enfolds and unsettles present power.

Paper long abstract:

This paper dwells-with two trees resistantly rooting two landscapes in the seasoned battlefield of South Lebanon. One tree anchors a museumized topography that celebrates the military victories of the Resistance. Gathering in its hoary fibers the multiple and heterodox traditions of dwelling in a landscape still alive with more than human presences, this tree is made to submit to a hegemonic politics of the present that seeks to (yet fails to) singularize and silence its multivocal nature. The other tree, twisted, deeply grooved and gnarled, lives steadfast atop a hilltop on a borderline and front and has witnessed and weathered countless seasons of war, dispossession, occupation. The hollow oak, though scorched and haggard by now, still houses lively spirits and stories. Its fire-resistant constitution continues to vitally resist the leveling encroachments of capitalism, nationalism, war. Maskun is an Arabic word describing the recognized presence of “spirits” in nature (and other forms). Rooted in the three letters s-k-n meaning silence, and simultaneously evoking silence and presence, habitation and hauntedness, maskun describes the power of landscape to unsettle predatory present orders.