Hamra Under Siege

One of the two stories I punched out yesterday:

Starting late last night and continuing into the morning, Hezbollah and Syrian Social Nationalist Party (SSNP) militiamen engaged in street clashes on the major roads of Hamra and Verdun, among other areas of broader Ras Beirut. "We have an SSNP flag right under us. I'm looking at their guys as we speak," noted Dana, a resident of Hamra. "The ones that I can see are holding their guns...they stop cars; like, every time a car passes by, they stop the car. If they like it, they'll let it go. If they don't, they'll make it turn around."

Fighting has been punctuated by automatic weapons fire and explosions of rocket-propelled grenades. Residents stayed indoors and away from windows, to avoid ricocheting bullets. "Right now, we're looking at about 10 militiamen with what are RPGs mounted on their shoulders, carrying big guns. There are loud bangs, followed by militiamen running down Hamra," stated Sarah, an AUB student. "There were guys in fatigues. At first, I thought they were army. But now, I'm not so sure, because they were wearing masks on their faces...and now these guys aren't in any kinds of uniforms. It has been surreal."

While the Lebanese Army has a presence in Hamra, they are refraining from taking on the militiamen. "On Hamra Street, I don't know, about ten tanks were rolling down the street a couple of hours ago," said Sarah. "They were just talking to the militia guys, standing next to them, and just hanging out. There were not, as far as I can tell, any requests for them to go home."

In the absence of army protection, residents suggested that Hezbollah's control had spread even to the gates of the American University of Beirut. "I just heard that Amal and Hezbollah are on Bliss. Have you heard this? They locked the main gate [of AUB] right now, because they're roaming around," said Hayeon, a South Korean resident of Hamra.

"It's pretty f***ed up," said Ryan, a student at the American University of Beirut studying for a masters degree in Middle Eastern studies. "I was drinking pretty heavily, but you sober up pretty quickly when you're scared. I don't know. We've just been trying to stay indoors, trying not to freak out."

Fighting has died down as the day progressed, as militiamen loyal to Hezbollah and their allies secure their control over West Beirut. "I was walking Hamra Street ten minutes ago, and there was one Hezbollah soldier each five meters," explained Francois, a Hamra resident, around noon. "It seems to be under their control. These are the real fighters. It's like an army, with full equipment and weapons. They are really well-equipped. More than the Lebanese army, by far."

A perplexing sense of order prevails on Hamra's streets, regularly interrupted by sporadic bursts of gunfire. Nevertheless, some people were seen walking the streets and a few shops opened their doors. "Snack Faysal [on Bliss Street] is still open," announced Ryan. "They're really making a killing."

Staying Safe In Beirut

By definition, there are not a great many rules in war. However, there are a few -- and 2007 Beirut is no exception. With this in mind, I have taken the liberty to write up a list of rules for staying safe in Lebanon. It is meant for a new arrival to this part of the world (though I am not quite sure who that may be), not quite sure what they are getting themselves in to.

While the perceptive reader might detect a certain flippancy to my tone, this does not suggest a rejection of the rules' validity. On the contrary, there is a certain truth to each of them. If they seem absurd, the blame lies in the reality of Lebanese life, not the rules themselves. Now, without further ado:

• Rule 1. Immediately after a bomb goes off, the rest of Lebanon becomes one of the safest places on the world. One of the safest times to go out in Lebanon is after an explosion. This is because the terrorists would never set two bombs in one night -- it is one of the first rules in the Terrorist's Handbook.

• Rule 2. After a neighborhood has been bombed, it is safe. See also: Terrorist's Handbook. After all, Lebanon is a big place and there are only so many bombs in the world.

• Rule 3. After a large bomb attack, there will be a brief lull in the violence. It is completely safe to venture out in this period. During this time, the terrorists hold celebratory potluck dinners which distract them from carrying out additional violence.

• Rule 4. The bombs only come out in late evening and nighttime. If you are home before 8 p.m., you are safe. While this rule has been challenged recently, it remains widely believed. The fact is that terrorists are notoriously late risers, and their vaguely vampire-like habits make them more apt to carry out attacks at night.

• Rule 5. Please consult your neighbors and local dekken owners for neighborhood-specific reasons why the area in which you live is completely safe. They will be happy to provide answers. In Hamra, the reasons include the proximity of two major universities, and the presence of foreigners (which is bizarre, considering that Fatah al-Islam does not appear to have any qualms on this front).
  

One Growth Industry In Lebanon: Dark Humor

I apologize for the absence of an update yesterday. I was at the office well into the evening, trying to run down MPs who had known Walid Eido for this tribute to him. Everyone was very helpful once I got them on the phone, but many anti-Syrian politicians seem to be hiding from public view, in fear that they will be next. This doesn't go for Hariri or Jumblatt, who need to be visible, but it does seem true for the people a few rungs beneath them. Understandable, of course.

Anyway, Jeha mentioned dark humor in a comment below, just as I was trying to think of something to write. It reminded me of a discussion I had with one MP yesterday, who was very friendly with Walid Eido. "He liked me very much, and I liked him," said the politician. "We used to joke around a lot."

Of course, I asked him what they joked about. "Well, when we would hold a meeting and the cameras would be there, I would turn to the photographers and say 'take a picture of Walid, this might be the last time you see him. He might get assassinated!' And Walid would say. 'No no, take a picture of him, he might get assassinated!'"

We laughed together about that and, for a second, I forgot that I was interviewing a man about his friend's death. Which, of course, is exactly the point of Lebanon's black humor.

Lebanese Hospitality

He took a knife and carefully skinned the orange, so that the peel was left in one long spiral. Then he halved the orange, then quartered it, then cut it into eighths. But we couldn't eat it yet, of course. He had to find forks.

The two brothers tottered around the ruined house. They poured Arabic coffee into the tiny cups, slowly placed them in front of my companion and I. None for them. The forks were rested neatly on the side of the bowl of oranges. I was offered a cookie, I politely refused; the cookie was re-offered more vehemently, I accepted.

The bomb, which inaugurated this current string of terrorism, exploded next to a residential apartment adjacent to ABC Mall. A wall in the first floor apartment collapsed, killing an old woman. All the other residents left the destroyed building -- some escaped abroad, most are staying with relatives. Except the two brothers living on the fourth floor.

The government came by once -- not to provide any aid, of course. The man just said the building was unsafe -- structurally unsound, you see -- and if they didn't leave they would be thrown in jail. The brothers refused. They had lived in their house since 1956. Through the violence in 1958, through the civil war, through the bombings in 2005. They said they wanted to die in their home.

And now they were rushing around their house without windows, without walls, while it crumbled slowly around them. Making sure that everything was perfect for my snack.

Just maybe, no matter how many political battles are fought and lost, everything will be all right.

A Good Day

It would, of course, be possible to go on for pages about all the things that are not perfect about the newly established international tribunal. Lebanese are still divided, the will of the international community might not extend to actually doing anything against Syria, and there is something fundamentally unsavory about Lebanese putting their hopes for salvation on something that happened in New York City. But I don't really want to write about any of that. This is the Middle East, and justice -- even imperfect justice -- is hard to come by.

There were scattered celebrations and fireworks on the street last night. But my favorite touch were the candles placed in doorways, and lining the Corniche. For my money, I prefer that simple and elegant form of political statement to the massive, baroque rallies that seem to be all the rage in Lebanon. There is a quiet confidence to all of the candles that no political rally, no matter how big or loud, can ever quite match.

In other news, Syria is continuing its quest to be the world's least subtle regime. A concussion grenade exploded near St. Michael's Church in Beirut, mere minutes after the UN vote establishing the tribunal. The next journalist to frame the current wave of violence as an "Al Qaeda vs. Lebanon" fight should be fired on the spot.

While we're on the topic, Syria's official objection to the international tribunal complained that the court "violates Lebanese sovereignty." Because we all know Syria has always been dreadfully concerned about Lebanese sovereignty.

World On Fire

In some ways, war reporting is the worst journalism that appears in a newspaper. It is mindless. Visit the bomb site, talk to people present, record the number of dead and injured, snap a few pictures. The dead are the story; there is no need to make sense of it, to explain what occurred and why. And then people buy the newspaper, gasp a little at the pictures, read about the number of dead, and consider themselves informed.

So here, again, are facts. A bomb exploded in Verdun last night, an upscale, predominantly Sunni Muslim, area. Nahar is reporting that a suspect is in custody. In the north, an Islamist group who nobody had ever heard of a few months ago is still fighting the army. Gee, Bashar Assad must be the world's most astute political analyst to guess that the region would be "set on fire" if the UN passed the international tribunal. There's a guy that should be picking lottery numbers today.

In all seriousness, all eyes should be on the opposition now. Can Aoun and Berri still stomach their close relationship with Syria? How far will the opposition be willing to push the crisis, and how will pro-government forces respond? Paradoxically, all of these questions and answers get pushed to the back while the bombs are still exploding, before the smoke clears. After all, this is war journalism.

No Government, But Shiny Teeth

It may be hard to believe, but there are many countries in the world with worse political situations than Lebanon. Their banks just normally don't provide loans for plastic surgery and orthodontics. That's quite a luxury, for a country without a functioning government.

I want to write about this at greater length later, so I'll cut myself short here. But if anyone has any insights into how these luxuries can be so popular in a country that finds itself in such a dire political position, I'm all ears.

The Waiting Game

Beirut is in wait-and-see mode today, in light of ">the discovery of the bodies of the two PSP boys. It's not nearly as bad as the riots in January, where people largely stayed in their homes. There are plenty of people out and about, but everyone is waiting to see if the other shoe is going to drop -- if there is going to be retaliation for the murders. The universities are closed, and there are new checkpoints around the city.

Defense Minister Elias Murr said that he knows who did it, and that, "[w]e are chasing them and we hope to arrest them." Well, I'm not sure that they really know who did it -- but odds are that they'll arrest someone soon, regardless. The pressure to do something and defuse the situation is going to outweigh the need for 100% certainty.

Dead

The two PSP members were found -- tragically but not unexpectedly -- dead today. Nahar is reporting that Saniora referred to the murder as a "national disaster," and Jumblatt called for "maximum restraint." Universities are closed tomorrow, and we're back to the ghost-town phenomenon on the streets of Hamra -- similar to, though not yet as bad, the period during the strike and riots.

Just came back from Starbucks, where I was drilling Arabic vocabulary. I asked the barista if they would be open to their normal time, given the situation. "Eleven-thirty," he said confidently, then paused. "Eleven-thirty -- unless something bad happens. That should be the motto of Starbucks Lebanon: 'Open until eleven-thirty! Unless something bad happens.'"

Further Adventures In Arabic

David Adesnik wants to know how to say "Israel" in Arabic. Turns out that the two best-known introductory Arabic textbooks published in America fail to mention the name of the country that separates the Meditteranean from the Jordan River. If these Arabic books were published in Syria, for example, I wouldn't be surprised. But there's no reason for American publishers and academics to go along with the Arab world's juvenile habit of playing dumb to Israel's existence.

Nevertheless, this reminds me of one of my many faux pas in learning Arabic. We were learning country's capitals, and how to say one place was "in" another place. "Parees bi Faransa," "New York bi Amerka." It was boring at the time, too.

Finally, the teacher asked, "Wayn Quds?" (Where's Jerusalem?) Without thinking, I answer, "Quds bi Israel!" That was not the right answer. "Quds bi Falasteen," she snapped back, glaring.

The Routinization of Crisis

This Anthony Shadid article is a must-read for anyone living outside Lebanon, looking to understand what is going on in the country. Shadid captures the bizarre normality of a city supposedly undergoing a political crisis: the nightclubs are full, the protesters relax and organize soccer games, and MPs from opposite sides of the political divide hug and exchange jokes. It doesn't seem, on a daily basis, like a country on the brink of civil war.

But, I think, the initial perception misses the point. Lebanese have become very good at ignoring the political crises gathering around them. They have become habituated to the cycle of one apocalyptic confrontation after another; they have even become blase about it. This doesn't mean that they don't care. It just means that they can bifurcate their lives between politics on one side, and everyday life on the other.

Still, the longer this crisis goes on, the harder it will be to mend the growing division between the two factions. The two sides are learning to live without each other. It might not seem that way, on the surface. But that's only because it's a matter of routine by now.

A Failed State

It is impossible to read Hassan Nasrallah's recent remarks without getting the impression that he believes that Lebanon is a failed state, and has no hope of ever exerting serious influence within its borders. Considering that Nasrallah runs a state within a state, this should not be surprising. It is certainly a reality which benefits his interests. But, if a national leader anywhere else in the world complained so persistently about the state's weaknesses, he would be considered hopelessly defeatist. Not Nasrallah. He's the leader of the Resistance.

Will Hizbullah be giving up its weapons any time soon? Nope. For that to happen, "there must be a strong state and a strong army capable of confronting any Israeli aggression on Lebanon." Is Nasrallah burning the midnight oil to strengthen the state's military, so that this is possible? Let's not descend into fantasy.

Nasrallah has a vested interest in a weak state -- in its current form, the state can't challenge Hizbullah's domination of the south or the dahiyeh. He has no incentive to end the current deadlock. If a compromise was reached, the state might get back to doing things that states normally do: convening parliament, aiding economic development, investigating the assassination of a Prime Minister. When the government cannot fulfill its functions, Hizbullah can move in.

Don't believe me? Nasrallah said it himself: "If the stalemate continues for a while until a solution is found or we go to a civil war, then let the stalemate continue."

Al-Jazeera goes on to say "the opposition was willing to bide its time until circumstances become convenient for a solution or regular elections are held in 2009." If this is still going on in 2009, Lebanese will have grown so accustomed to being at each other's throats that they will no longer see themselves as members of the same nation. And chaos like that only benefits the group with all the guns.

Easter Sunday Pictures/Stories

A suspicious baby.

This is in Byblos, a city just north of Beirut. The site has been continuously inhabited since 5000 B.C., making it one of the oldest still-inhabited cities in the world (though most academics agree that this boat has only been here half that long).

The "pigeon" rock, in Beirut. I don't know why it's called that. It graces the cover of many Beirut tourist guides, for obvious reasons.

Are the Maronites Bowing Out?

It is obnoxious that these articles are reporting that "nearly half" of Maronites are considering fleeing Lebanon are being published, before the actual poll. In all likelihood, even the articles were written without looking at the hard data in the poll, or its methodology. So we'll have to wait for a few more weeks to see if the poll can back up its eye-catching conclusion.

The Daily Star shoots holes -- sort of -- through the poll's (alleged) conclusion that Lebanon's "Islamization" is the reason for the (alleged) Maronite departure from Lebanon. My superficial, anecdotal impression tends to agree with the Daily Star's take -- Christians aren't fleeing because they're worried that Lebanon is going to turn into Iran, they're fleeing because there ain't any jobs here. Of course, the Daily Star article reaches its conclusion through assorted "man on the street" interviews. And really, when faced with the choice of believing the leaked conclusion of an unpublished poll or anecdotal evidence gathered from a couple of interviews, there really is no right answer.

More disturbingly, nobody seems to want to argue with the assertion that there is a mass exodus of Christians (and, to a lesser extent, Sunnis and Shi'as) from Lebanon. Because, when all is said and done, it doesn't really matter why they leave -- no matter the reason, Lebanon is still being deprived of some of its best-educated citizens. In this case, what the pundits choose not to argue about is more instructive than the battles they do choose to fight.

Guess Who's Back, Back Again

I apologize for my absence the past few days; I know it's been hard for you. Hopefully, the witty Slim Shady reference in the subject has done something to assuage your anger, fear, and depression. It's just been a busy few days, and I haven't had a great deal to see about the four month-long April Fool's joke that is Lebanon's political deadlock.

As the situation seems to have reached a stalemate, we have a good example of both factions using the remaining sticks in their possession to put pressure on their enemies. To wit: Aoun predicts that the Presidential elections won't occur on time. That must have been a tough announcement for someone who is yearning for the Presidency. And of course, the opposition always can hint at unleashing the mobs to spread chaos across Beirut.

On the other side of the divide, March 14 is threatening to convene Parliament without the Speaker, Nabih Berri. That would let them pass the international tribunal to investigate Hariri's assassination in whatever form they pleased, free from political compromises.

Are we any closer to a solution than we were four months ago? I'm not sure. Faster, please.

May Chidiac at AUB

May Chidiac spoke at AUB today. I have a lot to say about her visit, and would have more to say if her remarks hadn't been in Arabic. Nevertheless, there are some aspects that one doesn't exactly need a translator to understand.

First, a little background. Chidiac is a television journalist who was the victim of a terrorist attack on September 25, 2005. She was targeted because of her outspoken criticism of Syria's involvement in Lebanon's internal politics. Her program on the Lebanese Broadcast Corporation the day of the attempted assassination discussed Syria's possible involvement in the killing of Prime Minister Hariri. Chidiac was not the only journalist targeted for their anti-Syrian stance -- Samir Kassir and Gebran Tueni paid for their beliefs with their lives. As for Chidiac, she lost a leg and a hand in the explosion, and spent 10 months recuperating in a Paris hospital.

Needless to say, Chidiac's speech was unlike any university lecture that I've ever been to. She was greeted by a standing ovation, and her words were interrupted every few minutes by applause. National pride ran high -- before she began, everyone stood and most sang the Lebanese national anthem. At one point, when reciting the names of the politicians and journalists targeted in the terrorist campaign by pro-Syrian forces in 2005, Chidiac broke in tears. The whole event felt like a highly charged political rally, rather than a dry, factual lecture.

And you know what? Chidiac deserves every round of applause that she received. Lebanon's journalists were tremendously courageous to tell the truth about Syria in 2005 -- at a time when the government was still run by Syria, and its intelligence services had carte blanche to run wile throughout the country. It would have been easy to hide behind a dishonest veneer of objectivity; to downplay or ignore Syrian's role in Hariri's assassination. But many of them didn't, and their speaking truth to power made it easier for regular citizens to oppose the Syrian regime. I'll give May Chidiac a standing ovation any day.

Is John Zogby Batman?

Imagine the broad strokes of most comic book plots: Bad Guys surprise Superhero while he's in his alter-ego as a mild-mannered citizen, and abduct the Pretty Girlfriend. Superhero rushes off, changes into his costume. Superhero beats up the Bad Guys, rescues the Pretty Girlfriend, people yell "Who was that masked man?" etc etc.

Now, I know what you're thinking: that sounds exactly like the life of American pollster John Zogby! Well, you're absolutely right.

Zogby gave a lecture earlier this week at American University of Beirut. He is of Lebanese descent, and still maintains close emotional (and business) ties to the Middle East. "It is home," he said of Beirut. His polling firm, Zogby International, does a lot of research in the region. They work in close association with his brother James Zogby, who is the head of The Arab American Institute.

At the same time, it is no secret that public opinion in the United States has not been overwhelmingly positive towards Arab causes. This has been especially true since 9/11, but American support of Israel goes back to the 1940s. I'm not sure Zogby's professional reputation could survive him making a full-throated declaration of his beliefs. As such, he has to walk an interesting line between his professional role as American pollster and election wizard, and his identity as an Arab man and supporter of Arab causes. He has to switch between his superhero costume of American public opinion guru, and his alter-ego as an Arab man.

Zogby's solution to his problem is to let his research speak for itself, trying to gently nudge American policymakers to adopt a more pro-Arab position. His lecture was titled "Love, Hate, Envy or Respect: Recent Trends in Arab and American Public Opinion." Essentially, his conclusion was that Arabs and Americans aren't getting along right now because of American policy, not because of any underlying cultural clash. "Good will can be resuscitated," Zogby said, if only American policy would change.

Still, at times, Zogby The Pollster seems to give way to Zogby The Arab Activist. "I have my profession, I have to maintain the purity of my profession," he said, "but I won't shut up." He explained why American public opinion did not support Arab causes by blaming a hazy "high-intensity crowd." In response, two women in the audience yelled, "Who? Name them!" "Say it -- AIPAC!" Zogby finally banged the table and said firmly, "AIPAC."

But, after all, this is Beirut. When he meets with clients in Manhattan and Georgetown, you can be sure that Zogby does his best to keep his identity secret.

"Weakest Link" Addendum

I decided to put that article on the non-aligned groups here, rather than try to find some interested American magazine, for a couple of reasons. First, speed: it's massively obnoxious to be finished with an article and then spend the next week or two finding it a home. Second, audience: the people who read this blog have a better sense of Lebanese politics than the average reader of an American political magazine. And, insofar as the current situation is an internal Lebanese problem (if such a thing exists), you people are more important. Doesn't that make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside?

If I had known when I started writing that I was going to post the article here, I would have cut down on the background of Lebanon's problems. That's another problem about writing for an American audience -- you have to basically slip in a review of Lebanese history, from 1975 to present. It's massively annoying. I would have much rather talked about the psychological impact of the civil war on these non-aligned protesters, but there simply wasn't room if I wanted to write a concise article. Instead, I had to explain the confessional system. Yes, I know it's boring. I apologize.

Honestly, I think the article is mediocre. The problem was that I wanted to write about a huge issue -- the scattering of liberals across the political spectrum -- but my ostensible topic was one segment of Lebanon's liberals. I didn't talk to liberal-minded people in the FPM, or Future, or who had abandoned the political process entirely. The piece felt schizophrenic, constantly switching between flogging the non-aligned protests and explaining the larger Lebanese political scene.

Oh well. That's enough self-criticism for one day. Expect vicious, ad hominem attacks on some unsuspecting organization as a way to balance the books.

The Weakest Link

"I really want us to unite," says Walids Younes, a representative for "Loubnani W Bass." "For one Lebanon. To be Lebanese first. Believe in whatever you want to believe, but then be Lebanese."

What former President Amin Gemayel calls Lebanon's "Cold Civil War" began three months ago. Hizbullah and the Christian-supported Free Patriotic Movement set up a tent camp in downtown Beirut, trying to topple the Western-backed government. Tensions have occasionally flared into violence, causing casualties on both sides. Clashes at a local university grew into a full-fledged riot, raising the possibility of leaders losing control over their followers. The ideas of people like Walids Younes represent Lebanon's best chance at an enduring peace. It is a shame that their organizations fail to get that message out.

"Loubnani W Bass" is one of over a dozen groups unaffiliated with either political faction that have formed to protest the country's slow slide into violence. The well-funded groups have plastered Beirut with their billboards. Occasionally, the groups hold protests. Last month, Lebanese formed a human chain and marched slowly across a busy Beirut intersection. Soldiers watched impassively, perhaps a little bored, rifles slung casually over their shoulders. Last week, citizens made white handprints on a black sheet of construction paper. It was a way, "to leave your handprint of hope on this dark situation." The whole scene is inevitably very symbolic, idealistic, and easily ignored.

The people who make up these non-aligned groups are liberal, Westernized university students and professionals. The economic downturn caused by political instability resulted in some of them losing their jobs. If the economic climate does not improve soon, many of them will be forced to find work in the West, or the Gulf States. The desire to create an economically prosperous Lebanon is a common feature of their rhetoric. Fadi, a representative of the non-aligned group "11 March," describes his organization as "a group of businessmen, doctors, and students who want to live in this country." He denies that they are a political group, explaining, "We are people who [have] had enough of political conflict."

These people share ideological, as well as economic, ties. They believe strongly in the value of pluralism and democracy. In Lebanon, loyalty to one's religious sect is often stronger than loyalty to the nation. Liberals want to strengthen national identity, and remove the sectarian divisions enshrined in Lebanon's Constitution. For example, by law, Lebanon's President must be Christian, and the Prime Minister must be Sunni. Younes is "totally against" this system. "I want a country where you're judged by what you've achieved...disregarding [your] sect," he explains. While the mainstream parties fight to seize the most possible power for their clique, only Lebanon's liberals offer a way out of the bitter power struggles between the sects.

But the sad fact of Lebanese politics is that no political party currently reflects the interests of liberals. They are present in many organizations, and dominant in none of them. The non-aligned groups attempt to avoid this problem by endorsing neither political bloc. "Once you get into the political circles that presently exist, you'll be labeled," explains Younes. By remaining independent, these groups have prevented themselves from being associated with the illiberal policies of either faction. But they are also vulnerable to a whole new set of problems.

In order to maintain their independence, the non-aligned groups are notoriously vague when it comes to concrete political issues. Many of these professionals have made a career in marketing; very few seem to have made a career in substance. On their website, "11 March" summarizes its message as "one of pride and hope in lasting values, and perhaps above all, the virtue of patience coupled with determination." They limit their advocacy to calls for "compromise" and say they want to "give the people a voice." But nobody is opposed to these things in the abstract -- the conflict revolves around what compromise is reached, what the voice of the people says. By refusing to comment on the issues of the day, they relegate themselves to the fringes of the political debate.

There are good reasons for liberals to be skeptical of Lebanon's current leaders. Many politicians, on both sides of the political divide, were in power during Lebanon's catastrophic fifteen year civil war. The non-aligned groups are dubious that they can create a peaceful, pluralistic society. "We don't think we can properly work with these people," says Younes. "Someone who has been in and out of war for so long...I don't know how I can trust [them]." But by remaining agnostic on how to pull Lebanon out of this particular crisis, they have made themselves dependent on the politicians they despise.

Their skepticism includes the "liberal" government supported by the West, as well as the anti-government protesters. The government's closest allies have shady pasts, and a reputation for throwing gasoline on delicate situations. Samir Geagea, a key partner in the government's coalition, was convicted of assassinating the head of the Liberal National Party. At a massive rally, Walid Jumblatt, another ally, addressed Syrian President Bashar al-Assad in this language: "you ape unknown to nature, you snake from which even the snakes have fled, you whale vomited by the ocean, you wild desert beast, you creature that is only half-man." He continued in that vein for quite some time.

Because Lebanon's liberals lack a true home, they are forced into the unenviable position of being ignored, or co-opted by the major parties. In the political battlefield -- and that is not a metaphor -- those who dream of a truly democratic, non-sectarian Lebanon are scattered across the spectrum. Some are allied with the government, and some camp outside in the anti-government tents. The non-aligned groups watch from a distance, as the situation deteriorates. And others simply walk away, leaving Lebanon for jobs abroad.

Walids Younes, and his non-aligned friends, like to talk about how Lebanese need to unite. But don't expect it to happen until liberals take their own advice.

Of Arabic Vocabulary and International Perceptions

The word for "aunt" and "uncle" does not exist in Arabic, because that would be too easy. There are separate words for your maternal aunts and uncles, and their paternal counterparts.

In Lebanese, at least, one's paternal aunt is called 9amme, and one's maternal aunt is called khEle. Arabic is equally specific when talking about cousins. There's no word for that concept either. You say, "the daughter of my maternal uncle," or "the son of my paternal aunt."

As the notecards for this rather painful lesson were piling up, I was reminded of a conversation I eavesdropped on in southern Turkey. The speakers were Turks rather than Arabs, but I believe the larger regional point still applies. The man was explaining (in English, ironically) how Western children don't really love their parents; they just take their money and skip town.

The traditional Turkish/Arabic idea of a family is much closer knit than the Western idea. Accordingly, they have a nauseating number of words to describe their family relations. Speaking as someone who has taken their parents' money and skipped town, I tend to see these people as painfully cloistered and ignorant of the larger world. And I suspect they tend to see me as a lonely soul with no meaningful relationships.

This would be a rather ugly argument if it ever was made explicit. Thank God for modern etiquette and language differences.

Lebanon News Parodies Itself

Bombs are being found everywhere now -- even in a bag of potato chips. A man leaving a Palestinian refugee camp near Sidon hid 200 grams of TNT in his snack.

In other news, there isn't much to write about the "optimism" caused by the Hariri-Berri meetings. Most of the reports focus on the fact that the two sides are smiling at each other, rather than snarling. That's an improvement, but it's gossip column material rather than hard-hitting reporting. Though I did like this morsel:

"The two rival leaders combined the Arabic words for 'optimistic' and 'pessimistic' to form a new word, 'Tashaoulieh,' implying that things are at an 'in-between' stage."

I wonder how long they spent debating the creation of that word.

Writing About Lebanon Is Hard

I tried to think of the most blindingly obvious subject for this post that I could, and that's what I came up with. The ability to state the obvious is wildly underrated.

Anyway, the article is almost done. I'll finish it today, barring the horrible -- almost unmentionable -- possibility of it slipping out of my hands again like some wet fish that just won't die. It was painful to write over the past two days. The problem is that Lebanon is so complex, it's hard to write a concise description of a single group or event. This is especially true when writing for a foreign audience, who doesn't necessarily have a strong background in the country's politics.

The article keeps on trying to expand to encompass the whole breadth of Lebanese politics. It has a mind of its own -- it wants to talk about confessionalism, and then the government's activities since '05, then Geagea, then -- something else. It thinks: if I'm going to describe Lebanese liberals well, the reader is going to need to need to understand Lebanon's political landscape first. The problem is that you end up with a novel, not a magazine article.

Okay, I'm done anthropomorphizing a Microsoft Word document. More updates later today; I'm off to play some tennis, and take a little break.

Saturday Morning Sunset

I am one of those ridiculous people that jog along the Corniche in the afternoon. If I decide to leave at just the right moment, this is what I see near the end of my run. I thought you might appreciate it; I do.

(As a side note, I am a huge fan of the oxymoronic title of this post. Revel in it, please.)

Any Day Now...

So, I'm writing this article on the plight of liberals in Lebanon. How's it coming? I'll give you the same answer that I have people when they ask about my Arabic studies. Shway, shway (slowly, slowly). It is an evil, evil article that taunts me by keeping an interesting thesis just out of arm's reach, and when I finally think that I have it within my grasp it flits away and I am left with pages full of gibberish and disconnected paragraphs and mixed metaphors. Oh, and there's also the distinct possibility that the political deadlock could be resolved before I finish, thus destroying the immediate relevance of the piece. So that's always fun.

The latest developments in Lebanon's political saga is a meeting between Berri and Hariri. Nobody knows the specifics of the meeting, but the rhetoric is certainly more optimistic than it had been. In other news, Saniora suggested that Saudi Arabia appoint a "neutral" minister to the Lebanese government -- a development that should make any Lebanese nationalist break down in tears. But guys, if you could please just delay reaching a compromise for four or five more days...

Wrestling With Arabic, version XXLI

So, we've already discussed how Arabic nouns devised the "dual" form of plurality to frustrate me. What we haven't yet gone into is the nefariousness of the plural nouns themselves. You see, there doesn't appear to be any rhyme or reason for how to modify a word to make it plural! In English, you almost always just add an "s!" Now, granted, that S is sometimes soft (ie: cats)and sometimes pronounced like a Z (ie: dogs), for reasons that the vast majority of native speakers would not be able to explain. But at least it's easy to spell.

Oh no, Arabic couldn't be that accomodating. Take the word (and now we delve into the dark world of transliteration) "binit" -- it means girl. The plural is "banEt." Which is fine, until you discover that the plural of "bEb" (door) is "bwEb." In the absence of a pattern, it seems I'm just going to have to memorize all of them.

In less traumatic news, optimism is fading regarding peace in Lebanon, and Cheney's former chief of staff was found guilty of lying to a grand jury.

Tick, Tick, Tick

Despite scattered, vague reports that a compromise to the political deadlock has been reached, nothing specific has come out of the opposing camps. Which, I suppose, is something that none of us should be too surprised with. "NO DEAL REACHED" hasn't exactly been an above-the-fold headline in Lebanon for some time.

However, Lebanon is closing in on more politically charged dates. The anti-government movement is called 8 March. In other words, Thursday. I assume that they have to do something -- one of the giant political rallies where the side calls its followers to the streets as a show of force could be an option. But if Nasrallah or Aoun use this opportunity to call Geagea a "whale vomited from the ocean," or whatever absurd phrase Jumblatt referred to Assad with, it could kill any fledgling peace initiative. And the fun doesn't stop there, folks. The pro-government forces celebrate their anniversary on March 14th, next Wednesday.

Hey, remember when massive demonstrations were a display of national unity, rather than a way for each side to flaunt its muscles among the populace? That was fun.

Censorship With A Smile

When I wander outside of my usual circle in Beirut, I take my camera and snap pictures as I go. This is not a habit that has endeared me to the many sides of Beirut's political standoff. On Saturday when I was walking to the non-aligned protest, I ran astray of Beirut's armed forces. The picture that caused my temporary internment wasn't even of anything military -- there was a billboard which alternated between the Loubnani W Bass logo and a memorial to Rafiq Hariri. I thought it was an interesting juxtaposition of Beirut's past unity and current disunity, I thought the Loubnani W Bass logo is nifty, I was walking a long distance and wanted something to show for it...yadda yadda yadda. Suffice it to say, this wasn't a long-planned subversion of the state's national interest.

Anyway, it was enough for a soldier to rush across the street and grab me firmly around the side and walk me, in a half-hug, across the street to the impromptu military base. This probably should have been disconcerting, except that the soldier and his friend were smiling the entire time, and saying things like, "Hello! Don't worry!"

I was led into a trailer full of military roadmaps, where a young officer demanded that my photo be deleted. I didn't argue. It wasn't a particularly good photo anyway. But, if some armed group wants to get intel on the military's positions throughout Beirut, all they need to do is take an innocuous picture. After that, they'll get a full tour of the military's base, including passing glances at the military documents laid out on the officer's table.

After the officer was satisfied, I was led out of the base by two beaming soldiers, who asked me what country I was from. America, I said. "We love America!" said the younger one, who was carrying an enormous rifle and looked about nineteen. "We are the good guys. Don't worry! Enjoy Beirut and buy a lot of things to help tourism!" We shook hands, I assured them there were no hard feelings, and I was on my way.

Probably a month ago, I was in the tent camp set up in downtown, doing pretty much the same thing. Suddenly, a Christian FPM supporter came up to me, and demanded that I sit down at a table to show the anti-government protesters my pictures. I said sure -- talking to them was far more interesting than taking pictures of posters and buildings. A young protester informed me that it was forbidden to take pictures of protester's faces or inside of the tents. This was even more ridiculous, because the anti-government protesters (by definition, almost) had no possible legal protection for their sit-in. Nevertheless, I deleted the pictures. Especially in Lebanon, it's not always just the law which has recourse to violence. We had some tea, talked a bit, and then departed the best of friends.

Sure, events like this can't compare with what's going on now in Egypt. But there's something about the friendly way that my photographs are censored that strikes me as perfectly Lebanese. The message is: we'll make use of any means necessary to protect our side, and we'll do it all without the slightest waver in our smiles, or in our cultured veneer.

Get Your Hands Up

The protest went off as planned today, near Sodeco Square. Fourteen politically non-aligned groups participated, including Resolve It. Solve It, Loubnani w Bass, and Pour Que Le Liban Vive. Like any thinking person, these groups are concerned about Lebanon's slow slide into civil war. They are calling on pro- and anti-government forces to "compromise," and put their identities as Lebanese above their sectarian loyalties.

People made white handprints on a long, black sheet of paper, an effort to "leave your handprint of hope on this dark situation." This was followed by the entire crowd applauding together, for probably two or three minutes, because I don't know why. Wait, let me look up the symbolism behind the clap on the "Resolve It. Solve It." Facebook group (a strangely good source of information). Okay, it was a "United Clap against political irresponsibility." That's what is sounded like.

Anyway, the entire event was very idealistic and pure and devoid of any real conflict, or specifics of any kind. I don't want to comment on it at great length, because I'm writing an article on these people. I want to sort out my thoughts before I spout off. But once the article is published, I'll have more details on this site. Here are some of my favorite pictures. Note the "Unaffiliated Citizens Can Make A Difference" poster in the final picture, which I stupidly failed to get all of.

Those Polite Hizbullahi

Here's what the United Nations' patrol of South Lebanon looks like:

"The UNIFIL officer further said that upon trying to inspect one of these sites, he was challenged by two of Hezbollah's fighters armed with machine guns and equipped with wireless communications equipment. They asked him politely for identification before asking him to leave.

He added that in another spot he saw a sign up on the entrance of one of the fortifications that said: 'Warning. Restricted Access', signed 'Hezbollah.'"

Someday, Hizbullah will ask -- just as politely -- for UNIFIL to leave the rest of South Lebanon too. And they will smile, nod, and do exactly as they are told.

Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa...

Speaking truth to the masses:

"And please don't give me any of the 'it's the fault of the political leadership' verbiage. Do not try to peddle any of the cheesy ethnic cliches along the lines of 'When the elephants fight it is the grass that suffers'. Those who have driven us to this war are not the few war criminals or corrupt political dealers who rejoice at our stupidity. It is the millions of Lebanese who have flocked spontaneously on February 14, March 8, March 14, December 1, then 8 then February 14 again and continue to do so whenever they have a chance. With great flag waving and slogan shouting these millions of patriots have empowered the rotten leadership towards our destruction."[emphasis mine]

I like this. Well, no I don't, let me rephrase: I agree with this. When I was writing my article on "Beirut Diaries," I asked the director, Mai Masri, what had kept Lebanon's confessional system of government in place. She answered as if it was obvious: it was the politicians, who maintained the system in order to stay in power. They subverted the will of the people for their own nefarious desires.

It sure is tempting. It sets the manipulative, evil politicians against the true and good Lebanese people. But I don't think it is true. The fact of the matter is that many Lebanese want confessionalism, in the same way that they want to maintain the old client-patron relationships with the old, feudal leaders. Confessionalism guarantees representation of their religious sect in the political process, and it keeps them from trying to tear down the other religious sects, if they should become too powerful. The feudal leaders provide them with security, a flag to rally around.

No, sorry, I can't walk down that particular road. If civil war breaks out, the reality will be that we will have nobody to blame but ourselves. No excuses. Lebanon will get the type of government it deserves.

Lahoud To Stay?

Sorry for the lateness of the updates today. I woke up as scheduled but, probably because of a storm last night, the Internet was down. I'm drawing stares in the local cafe because of my hair shirt.

Now that's out of the way, President Lahoud has suggested the possibility of staying with us, even after his term expires! Here's what he has to say: "How am I supposed to hand over the country to a non-existent government?...I will not."

Lahoud was appointed by Syria when they ran things in Lebanon, and his term was already extended in 2004. As a Christian who takes his orders from Syria, he has no true base of support within the Lebanon population. His exit has been eagerly awaited by anti-Syria types; somewhere on the Internet, I remember seeing a live countdown to when Lahoud's Presidential term expires. I remember when my Arabic teacher mentioned that she came from the same village as Lahoud. She gave that rueful, semi-apologetic smile that is common when Arab civilians talk politics with Americans.

If Lahoud stays, it has the potential to radicalize a lot of pro-government people, and turn them against a compromise with Hizbullah and Co. Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

Great Picture

From what I can tell -- by a superficial exploration of their website -- Loubnani W Bass benefits from all of the good qualities and suffers from all the faults of Lebanon's "non-alignment" movement. Nevertheless, their picture sums up the situation many Lebanese find themselves in perfectly, and explains the recent rise of groups such as these.

Druze For Jesus

I take Arabic classes outside of my university three days a week, for two hours each session. It's an opportunity for me to freely butcher Arabic pronunciation and ask stupid questions to my heart's content. It is a great experience.

We'll call my teacher R. She is 28, friendly, a talented teacher, and a lawyer in training (but I forgive her). She is also a Christian, and not shy about it. During breaks in the lesson, she'll evangelize to her heart's content -- speaking about her relationship with Christ, about how he died for our sins, and her favorite Biblical verses. I don't mind at all. All my friends in Lebanon and, for that matter, in the States are secular types. Even among the Jesuits at Georgetown, whose reputation was founded on their ability to win converts, the slightest missionary tint would have been considered declasse. So, R. is a type of person I don't often have the opportunity to meet.

We started talking about her conversion experience today. This came as a surprise to me, because I assumed that she came from one of the many Christian families in Lebanon. It turns out that she was born Druze (an idiosyncratic Muslim Shi'a offshoot), and converted to Christianity at 19. She told me that God spoke to her, that she broke down and cried, and converted right then. I wanted to ask about how her family took this news, but I was afraid of reopening old wounds.

Here was how she described her faith, and her allegiances: "I am Druze, who believes that Christ is the messiah." Even a change in religion does not break her Druze tribal loyalties. One wonders how imported Western abstractions like democracy or liberty can override tribal allegiance, when not even religious faith can do the trick. In darker moments, it makes me think that Lebanon is doomed to limp along with its fractious sectarian divisions forever. Still, like many doomed things, it is very pretty.

[Photo is of the Shouf, the historic Druze heartland. By: Fares Jammal.]

Stumbling Upon Some TNT

Ghazi Ayoub, a man who wanders Beirut looking for scrap metal to sell, is walking around near midnight on Monday. He comes across a tire on a pedestrian overpass near Beirut Arab University, where student riots broke out a few weeks ago. He knows that tires are valuable, so he rolls it to Jihad Kaak, an auto mechanic. Mr. Kaak says that he will buy the rim of the tire.

When Mr. Kaak goes about the task of separating rim from tire, he finds something he didn't expect: 1.2 kilos of TNT. After that, everything happens in the order you would expect: panic, the arrival of soldiers, the defusal of the bomb, a new fear of stray tires for everyone involved.

Just another of those half-funny, half-sad stories that make up their own cottage industry in Lebanon.

"Because We Didn't Learn Our Lesson the First Time"

"Because We Didn't Learn Our Lesson the First Time" could turn out to be the slogan of Lebanon's history, 1975 to the present. If a second civil war breaks out, I hope somebody records its story using that subtitle.

Anyway, this sentiment has relevance today because the Daily Star is reporting that Lebanon's opposition is mulling civil disobedience. Here are the key points:

"Amal MP Ali Hassan Khalil confirmed media reports that 'civil disobedience is currently one of the options under consideration.' A civil-disobedience campaign would hit all public institutions, he said, as civil servants who support the opposition would remain at home and refrain from paying taxes and utility bills. The ports and airport could also be affected.

...

Meanwhile, the Arab League's efforts to mediate the political crisis in Beirut appeared to hit a stumbling block. After an optimistic week of seemingly impending breakthroughs, Egyptian Ambassador Hussein Darrar hinted on Monday that there had been a deterioration in the negotiations."[Emphasis mine]

For those with short memories, here are the highlights of the last attempt at "civil disobedience" in Lebanon: lines of burning tires, angry mobs throwing stones at soldiers and each other, dozens wounded and supporters dead on both sides. So let's call Mr. Khalil's statement what it is -- a naked threat to release chaos and violence upon Lebanon.

More Notes From February 14th

Here is a longer segment from Walid Jumblatt's address to the crowds at Hariri's memorial, courtesy of the indispensable MEMRI. He's talking about Syrian President Bashar al-Assad:

"We have come to Freedom Square to tell you, oh tyrant of Damascus, you ape unknown to nature, you snake from which even the snakes have fled, you whale vomited by the ocean, you wild desert beast, you creature that is only half-man, you Israeli product at the expense of the corpses of the South Lebanese, you liar and arch-killer in Iraq, you criminal blood-shedder in Syria and Lebanon -- we have come to say that the words of the great poet Nizar Qabani apply to you. He said: 'Every twenty years comes an armed man to slaughter unity in its cradle and to kill the dreams.'"

Even for someone who is on Jumblatt's side, this is a bridge too far. Yes, Assad has done awful things to Lebanon, and to his own people. Yes, the world would be a better place if he wasn't in power. And Lebanese leaders should say so. But calling someone a "whale vomited by the ocean," while admittedly sort of amusing, stoops to a fairly ridiculous level. Nobody is going to be convinced by this sort of rant; it's only going to rally the type of people March 14 doesn't need to rally, and it's going to alienate everyone else.

Case in point: Rampurple runs a smart, interesting blog on Lebanon. It's statements like Jumblatt's that have made him, and many young people, turn away from active participation in politics.

Barn Burners

Samir Geagea and Walid Jumblatt gave the most aggressive speeches at last Wednesday's rally. No reason to back down now; you don't hold anything back in this game. Here are some key lines:

Geagea

Regarding Hizbullah: "[H]enceforth, we will not accept any weapons outside the Lebanese army's frame of control...The Lebanese army is the resistance, the Lebanese government is the resistance, the Lebanese people is the resistance."

Regarding President Lahoud: "History has settled its account with any tyrant …at the end (of your term) you will go away to history's garbage dump."

Jumblatt

Regarding Hizbullah: "from now on there will be no weapons except what is controlled by the Lebanese army."

Regarding Syrian President Assad: "a snake .. a beast .. an Israeli product .. a liar .. a criminal."

Regarding what will happen to Assad: "This year will witness the creation of the international tribunal, justice will be served and the punishment will be a death sentence."

More Pictures

"Hizbullah on your right, Hariri straight ahead..."

Follower of Walid Jumblatt, climbing up a crane to wave the Progressive Socialist Party's (cool-looking) flag.

What should be three of Lebanon's national symbols: the cedar flag, a mosque, and a crane.

Flags, Flags, Flags

So far, the protests have been problem-free. Martyr's Square is packed with more people than I have ever seen in one place; there were plenty of times when I literally could not move because of the crowd. Much time was spent diverting stray flags from my eyes. The majority of flags are the red and white Lebanese flags, but there are also plenty of the white Future Party flags, as well as some of Walid Jumblatt's Progressive Socialist Party. At 12:55, the time of the assassination, downtown Beirut fell silent and the muezzin gave the call to prayer.

Security is tight. Soldiers patted people down before they were allowed to enter downtown; it took me a while to explain what purpose my iPod served. An extra layer of security separated the crowd from the anti-government protesters. Red-hatted men -- perhaps the security detail of some specific party? -- also helped to manage the crowd and were, by and large, quite friendly.

The mood is celebratory, not angry. Adults and children chant Hariri and Sinioura's name, and clap along to the patriotic songs blared through the speakers. They wave their flags and greet each other with three kisses on the cheek. It has been a good day.

Daily Star editorial

Here's the lead from the Daily Star's wonderful editorial regarding yesterday's attacks:

"One day before the second anniversary of the massive blast that killed one of the most important personages in Lebanon's history, Tuesday's bus bombings near the town of Bikfaya previewed the inevitable result of unsolved murders and uninspired politics since the slaying of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri."

Read the whole thing. The bombings really were entirely predictable. A string of politicians have been assassinated since 2005, and not one of the perpetrators have been brought to justice. Are there really criminal masterminds at work in Lebanon? Does anyone expect the Lebanese to believe that? The negligence of the political authorities in pressing for these crimes to be brought to justice only encourages more murders, more bombings.

Bus Bombs and Chances of Peace

I planned to write this post earlier today; it was going to say that chances of a peaceful resolution to Lebanon's problems was looking up. It was going to quote this report, which spoke promisingly of compromises between pro- and anti-government forces. And then a pair of bombs go off in North Lebanon. CNN is reporting three dead; the Daily Star is reporting that was the preliminary count and the real number is somewhere around 11

Sigh. What to say. The attacks took place in a Christian area, near the hometown of Amin Gemayel. Amin Gemayel's son, Pierre, was a government minister assassinated in November. Pierre was the latest politician assassinated in Lebanon's long history of political strife, currently wavering precariously on the brink between farce and tragedy.

A lot hangs on the "massive commemoration" that pro-Hariri, pro-government supporters will hold in downtown Beirut tomorrow. I'll be interested to gauge the mood on both sides. It's a "national day of mourning" for Hariri, so businesses and universities are closed. I can think of about ten ways that this could play out. Tomorrow, they say blandly, is another day.