Two Months in the Middle East #1

Beirut – June 7th, 2000

Two weeks after Israel have withdrawn from the south

The procession of cars noisily speeds down the alleyway outside my hostel two or three times a night. Hizbullah flags and banners dangle precariously from the windows as passers-by cheer and clap. The scene is made even more surreal by the strip clubs the cortege zooms past. My hostel is located in Beirut’s red light district.

It illustrates the divisions that still rack Lebanon. Religious fundamentalism side by side with naked consumerism. Israel may have gone, but reminders of the past, and the divisions created then, are everywhere. The newly built Continental hotel, a luxury 20 storey building, rests uneasily beside it’s predecessor, now charred and pockmarked from decades of conflict. A hundred yards further on and there is nothing.

Bulldozers have razed entire sections of Beirut and the city is slowly rebuilding. It will take time. It will take time too, before the new hotels are filled with anybody other then diplomats and businessmen. Western tourists are virtually non-existent. The stigma that Beirut acquired some 25 years ago is proving hard to shed.

Yet in some aspects of life here, it’s hard to believe that any conflict ever took place. The night clubs that dot the cities northern suburbs are full every weekend with Beiruti youngsters determined to have a good time. Watching the packed dance floor, I am struck by the familiarity of the scene. Teenagers (both Christian and Muslim) losing it to Fatboy Slim. This could be anywhere, New York, London, even Tel Aviv.

Normality is also evident in the American University of Beirut, a lavish 25 acre complex that overlooks the Mediterranean. Jews, Christians and Muslims all study here and the leafy paths that line the campus are a welcome respite from the chaos of downtown Beirut. However reminders of war, and the irony of it, are never far away. A gold plaque on the wall of the library states that it was rebuilt last year thanks to a donation from the United States of America. The Israeli rockets that flattened it, financially at least, came from the same source.

For all the signs of normality, if you scratch the surface the anarchic side of the city can rear it’s head. A gun was put to my head one night outside my hostel by a coked up pimp who was angry that I declined to see the ladies he had to offer in his “club”. Returning migrants complain of the unprofessionalism and threats that accompany any business deal. Palestinian refugees squat in derelict buildings as the city’s rich speed past in brand new Mercedes.

The city is divided into two distinct districts, one Christian, one Muslim. Religion doesn’t seem to be an issue amongst many however. “As long as they spend money, I don’t care what religion they believe in”, one stall holder explains. For all the support for Hizbullah now, many Beirutis feel that they will never be voted in power. As our taxi driver from the airport put it, “I have no wish to live in Iran.”

In the new Beirut it seems profit comes before Allah. So as the religious divide becomes less pronounced, the biggest gap, as in most Western cities, is between the haves and have nots.