Lessons from the Lebanese Space Program

How the Lebanese Rocket Society's innovative drive and visionary leadership created a space program from scratch.

Modest Beginnings

At the height of the Cold War, only a handful of nations possessed the capacity to launch rockets into space. Among them were the world's foremost superpowers of the time: the United States of America (USA), and Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR). Then there was Lebanon, a newly formed Mediterranean nation barely larger than the state of Delaware.

Between 1960 and 1967, the almost forgotten Lebanese Rocket Society, led by its founder Manoug Manougian, competed with the great powers of the Cold War to create a space program in Lebanon. Founded as a student association within the Haigazian College in Beirut in November 1960, the Rocket Society operated without any official funding from the state or the university. Relying on the dedication of a few professors, seven students, and a modest donation from the Lebanese entrepreneur and Parliamentarian Emile Bustani, what the burgeoning Society lacked in resources, it made up for in ingenuity, drive, and vision.

Aiming to elevate Lebanon and the Arab world to the level of the era’s great powers, then locked in a fierce space race, the Rocket Society was an ambitious scientific endeavour. The Rocket Society emerged amid a complex backdrop: Lebanon’s nascent state-building effort, the ebb and flow of Nasserite-coloured Pan-Arabism, ongoing hostilities with Israel, the intensifying Cold War between the USA and USSR, and the yet-unrestricted optimism in technology and its capacity to transform society for the better. This was the now forgotten post-imperial, post-war world of possibility in which the Rocket Society found itself.

Within a few years of its founding, the Rocket Society successfully launched rockets beyond Earth’s atmosphere into space and became a source of national pride for Lebanon. Yet by 1967, it had all but been abandoned by Manougian and much of his team. Escalating geopolitical tensions, diplomatic pressure, war, and Manougian’s fear of the militarisation of his technology would end Lebanon’s brief but remarkable emergence as a space power.

The Rocket Society’s initial success relied not on vast material resources or institutional support but on the singular vision and leadership of Manougian. Born in 1935 in Jericho, Palestine, to a family of Armenian refugees, Manougian was raised and educated in Jerusalem, and in 1955 received a scholarship to study mathematics at the University of Texas, Austin. During his time in Texas, Manougian witnessed the rise of the space race between the USA and USSR. Seized with ambition, and believing that the promise of technology could transform both Lebanon and the Arab world, he planned to put Lebanon on the map. In 1960, at just 25 years old, he returned to Beirut to teach mathematics and physics at the Haigazian College. There, he took charge of the Haigazian Science Club, looking to inspire a new generation of young Lebanese scientists.

What Manougian lacked in formal experience or technical backing, he made up for in his ability to inspire and organise these resourceful students, who required a catalysing force to structure their efforts towards a shared goal. And if there was a space race, why not focus their efforts on rockets? So, the Science Club was renamed the Haigazian College Rocket Society.

The Rocket Society pose in front of a Cedar rocket.

Small Steps and Large Leaps

In the beginning, with few resources at its disposal, everything the Rocket Society built was manufactured locally: prototypes were built using wood, cardboard, metal pipes, and homemade chemical compounds, all produced on-site. The initial tests were conducted without prior trials, often in the gardens of society members' homes in the Lebanese countryside. Nevertheless, in April 1961, they made a breakthrough: a single-stage rocket successfully reached an altitude of two kilometres, a small leap that confirmed they were on the right track. The achievement inspired the team to consider sending an animal, perhaps a mouse, into space. Manougian’s wife shot down that plan.

The success of these initial tests drew the attention of Lebanese President Fouad Chehab, who, in 1961, allocated a budget of 10,000 Lebanese pounds to the project, followed by an additional 15,000 pounds in 1962. The state’s support significantly enhanced the program's capabilities, particularly through the technical and financial assistance of the Lebanese Army. From that point onwards, the rockets were launched from the military base of Dbayeh near Beirut. With funding, some measure of military support, and growing national acclaim, the Haigazian Rocket Society was officially renamed as the Lebanese Rocket Society.

Perhaps Manougian intuited it at the time, but the Lebanese Army’s interest in the Rocket Society was not purely out of national pride. Indeed, as similar programs had done in other countries, Lebanon’s government saw the potential military applications of the Rocket Society’s rockets. However, lacking the vast resources and state capacity to undertake research and development programs like those in the USA and USSR, the Lebanese Army’s best shot was to support Manougian. The ground was laid for the beginning of a tension that would one day unravel the Rocket Society.

In the meantime, the Rocket Society would go on to launch 10 more rockets, with four main ‘Cedar’ rockets: the HCRS-7, Cedar-2b and 2c, Cedar-3, and finally, Cedar-4. When the Cedar-4 rocket was launched in 1963, it was a remarkable technological advancement for its time. The Cedar-4 was a three-stage rocket capable of reaching an altitude of 145 kilometres, thus entering the low Earth orbit (LEO) zone, and blasting past their record of two kilometres in 1961. LEO is where most satellite and human space flight activities take place. In every sense then, the Cedar-4 was a modern rocket; it rose over the Kármán line, considered the boundary between Earth's atmosphere and space, and the ability to reach LEO opened up possibilities previously unimagined.

Launch of the Cedar-4 rocket.

The Rocket Society was no longer playing with fireworks. Lebanon’s membership in the exclusive club of LEO-bound technology was extraordinary. The achievement was celebrated with the release of a commemorative stamp, generating national excitement. Lebanese people, especially amongst the Armenian community, flocked to witness the launch of each rocket, proud of the Rocket Society’s accomplishments.

A commemorative stamp.

The Rocket Society and Manougian were also attracting attention from abroad. Manougian received lucrative offers from several (unnamed) Arab countries seeking to develop their own indigenous ballistic missile programs on the back of his work. But, he categorically declined these proposals, stating:

"I was offered the moon in terms of money and support – a mansion to live in and a lab of my own design. I turned them down. I realised what the implications would have been, as I'm very strongly against violence of any kind."

Manougian’s dream of a peaceful space program was beginning to clash with the geopolitical realities around him. Where he saw a means to improve society through peaceful technological development, states and other political actors saw the potential–or threat–of possessing this technology.

Too Close to the Sun

In 1966, Manougian and his team would launch the Cedar-8 rocket, with Lebanese citizens, government officials, and even foreign diplomats in attendance. This would be the last rocket that the Society would build as a team.

As the regional geopolitical tensions were becoming more hostile, the proliferation of advanced rocket technology, especially via small states like Lebanon, concerned larger powers. The Cedar-8 rocket had nearly hit a British naval cruiser in the Mediterranean. Cyprus was unhappy with the rockets launching so close to its airspace. Manougian, too, was disheartened when two students were injured (with one severely burning their hands and losing an eye) after a flawed experiment. Manougian was also concerned about the potential militarisation of the technologies he and the Rocket Society were developing. The space program was a dream of scientific and peaceful exploration that he had developed since his childhood in the West Bank. However, the Lebanese military saw it as a strategic opportunity to develop ballistic missiles. As he stated:

"By 1965, I realised that the Lebanese military’s interest had changed from scientific research for peaceful exploration of space, to rockets as an instrument of war.”

By 1967, geopolitical tensions created an even more hostile environment for the Rocket Society. Manougian was approached by CIA agents posing as "cultural attachés," who warned him of escalating regional tensions and the increased likelihood of a conflict with Israel—fears that materialised during the Six-Day War in 1967. Simultaneously, French President Charles de Gaulle cautioned Lebanese President Fouad Chehab about the security risks posed by the space program. Under combined pressure from the United States, France, and the United Kingdom, the activities of the Rocket Society were gradually scaled back.

Under severe pressure, Manougian left Lebanon for the United States, accompanied by several of his colleagues, mostly Palestinians of Armenian descent. The Lebanese Army and what remained of the Rocket Society would go on to launch another rocket, the Cedar-10, and western powers decisively stepped in to end Lebanon’s experiment once and for all. The Rocket Society was disbanded and the program shut down. A few months later, the Six-Day War broke out.

In the years that followed, the program faded into obscurity. The outbreak of the Lebanese Civil War in 1975 and the Israeli invasion of 1982 destroyed much of the program’s archives. What had once been front-page news, and an achievement commemorated on Lebanese postage stamps, vanished from collective memory. Neither Haigazian College, where it all began, nor national museums preserved this legacy. No official commemorations, academic studies or journalistic investigations kept the story alive. A program that had once drawn thousands of spectators and attracted the attention of international powers became a ghost, erased so thoroughly that, as far as most people are concerned — even in Lebanon — the Rocket Society never existed.

It was not until the 2010s that the story of Manougian and the Rocket Society resurfaced from obscurity through the efforts of Lebanese filmmakers Joana Hadjithomas and Khalil Joreige. They had stumbled on the story while researching forgotten pieces of history from Arab modernity, finding a commemorative stamp from the 1960s featuring a Lebanese rocket. This piqued their curiosity. Through publications, rocket replicas and exhibitions, Hadjithomas and Joreige undertook a multi-year journey to revive the memory of this forgotten chapter of scientific achievement. Their work culminated in the critically acclaimed documentary The Lebanese Rocket Society (2012).

The Rocket Society and onlookers watching the launch of a Cedar rocket.

The Lebanese Rocket Society begs the question: What if Lebanon had continued its space program? Had it been able to scale its efforts, leveraging both state and private resources, could it have become a major player in the space industry?

With state and private investment, the Rocket Society could have expanded its reach and become a catalyst for industrial development, creating a technological edge in niche sectors such as aerospace and satellite technology. Satellites, in particular, have become indispensable tools for surveillance, border monitoring, and agricultural management. Lebanon could have positioned itself as a leader in these areas, offering satellite-based services to other countries in the region. The Arab Satellite Communications Organisation (Arabsat), founded in 1976, is a relevant example. Had Lebanon pursued its space program, it might have spearheaded such an initiative a decade earlier, providing satellite communications to the Arab League and beyond. This would have aligned with Manougian’s vision of uniting Arab countries through scientific endeavours and future-oriented ideas.

Moreover, operating such complex mechanical systems would have compelled Lebanon and the Haigazian College to enhance educational quality and infrastructure to innovate and compete with wealthier rivals such as the USA and USSR. Retaining homegrown talents such as Manougian would have been crucial, especially as other countries sought to recruit him for their own programs. The Lebanese Army, which provided limited support to the Rocket Society, might have invested in building a rudimentary spaceport and acquired advanced equipment ranging from communication systems to radar and material testing machines. Without easy access to foreign technology, Lebanon would have been forced to develop indigenous alternatives or seek partnerships with industrial powers, likely in Eastern Europe.

Ultimately, we will never know. International pressure and regional war ensured that the Rocket Society would be short-lived. Lebanon would never again have the alchemy of talent, resources and political will necessary to launch a serious space program.

A Future Lost

Manougian died on May 7, 2024, at 89. He never again returned to Beirut. Manougian’s ability to create functional rockets from off-the-shelf chemicals and metal pipes, with little more than a small team of students, is a testimony to his ingenuity and resourcefulness. In doing so, he pioneered developments in an industry typically dominated by superpowers with vast resources and industrial capacity. Yet, despite his achievements, Manougian’s name has faded from the collective memory of the Lebanese people and the broader Arab world. This erasure is a tragedy because Manougian exemplifies how individuals with vision, determination, and the ability to inspire others can achieve extraordinary feats, even in the most resource-scarce environments.

Manoug Manougian.

Perhaps Manougian’s idealism also contributed to the Rocket Society’s ultimate demise. The space race, and the impetus for scientific and technological development in the USA and USSR, was not driven merely by scientific curiosity and a love of science. It was, first and foremost, funded and directed by military needs. In hindsight, it is hard to say, but Manougian’s pacifistic stance may have been self-defeating. Nations like Lebanon, lacking the technological capacity for self-defence, remain vulnerable to conflict and are therefore prone to conflict, foreign and domestic. After leaving Lebanon, Manougian continued his career in American institutions where technology development often serves military applications — the very connection he denied his own nation.

Today, a new space race is heating up between the world’s great powers. Unlike the 1960s, more nations than ever before are launching space programs and possess ever-more advanced rocket technology. In the Arab and Muslim world, countries like Morocco, Egypt, Turkiye, and Pakistan aim to compete with the likes of China and the USA to possess indigenous technological capacity for space projects. As they strive to establish themselves as technological powers, the travails of Manougian and the Rocket Society offer a critical lesson: Technological advancements and societal change are not determined solely by national budgets or industrial capacity. Rather, they also depend on the vision and determination of a few strong-willed individuals—those willing to “eat dirt,” and persevere against overwhelming odds to achieve their goals. These individuals, leading small but highly motivated teams, can catalyse change far beyond what their material resources might suggest. A giant leap requires a thousand small steps.

Yasin Atlassi is a historian of technology, focused on how tools and infrastructure shape society, culture, and politics.

All art has been custom-drawn for Kasurian by Ahmet Faruk Yilmaz. You can find him on Instagram and X.

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