This war's for you

Last week, a report in the Al Akbar newspaper indicated that the leader of Hezbollah, Sayed Hassan Nasrallah, whispered into the ear of released prisoner Samir Kuntar, "this war was fought for you" during a massive victory rally in the southern suburbs of Beirut. The BBC, perhaps unknowingly, has uploaded a video that documents this event. But it doesn't seem to be a whisper. We can hear Nasrallah quite clearly toward the end of the clip, seen here. Interestingly the BBC seems to have missed this detail, which is not mentioned in the text of the story. This is quite a contrast to the Lebanese press, where the words have made headlines such as in this An Nahar report.

The remarks and the controversy surrounding them bring recent developments in Lebanon full circle. Despite the celebrations, the Lebanese continue to be deeply divided over Hezbollah's ability to control the country's fate militarily, especially since the July 2006 war.

Many say that Lebanon is now more powerful as a result of the recent prisoner exchange, which is seen as the ultimate symbol of victory from that war. Others, however, question the value of releasing one combatant at the cost over 1000 Lebanese civilians who were killed during the fighting-- the lingering disagreement over which has brought the country close to civil war.

Yearning for colonialism?

Naharnet, a pro-Western leaning Lebanese news site, is usually quite anxious in its condemnation of foreign forces exercising tutelage over Lebanon. Over the past few years, it has reported avidly on violations of Lebanese sovereignty, focusing largely on maneuvers by Syria and Iran and their local allies. (A headline on Naharnet once screamed "Hezbollahland" when describing the southern suburbs of Beirut.)

But in an article that appeared today, the editors of Naharnet appear to be abandoning their high horse of sovereignty by explicitly campaigning, it seems, for all-out French control over Lebanon. The article discusses French-Syrian-Lebanese relations, but instead of posting the contemporary Lebanese flag, the editors chose to dig up an image of the colonial flag used until the 1940s, when France ruled:



Or did they just think it was cute?

For those who would like to compare, here is an image of the flag that has been Lebanon's for over 60 years:

Lebanese fashion goes E.T.

Over the years, Lebanon has produced a fair number of fashion designers including Elie Saab, who is now a household name at Hollywood's red carpets. But when it comes to brands, few up and coming prodigies will be able to compete with Appolo 11 Fardous. That's right, Appolo 11 --his real first name--was recently featured on the local fashion program "Shou El Mouda" (What is the trend) aired on Lebanese channel New TV.


The host, needless to say, was highly intrigued.


Appolo, as she called him, explained that he was the eleventh child in the family and that his father was a fan of the space program. About half way through discussing his spring collection, she could not help but coming back to the name. Do you prefer "Appolo hedash" [in Arabic numbers] or simply "Appolo eleven" [in English]?

"Eleven", he replied soberly.

Fadous then stated he was a US citizen and hoped to expand his collection stateside in the near future.


The host made two observations of his work:

1. A love of colors...


and bows:




2: The obvious "liberal" audience intended for his wedding dresses:




Fadous agreed, saying that the gowns would 'naturally' be tailored to the tastes of conservative clients. In fact, Saudi and Kuwaiti princesses, who have enough cash to buy $100,000 plus dresses common in the Lebanese couture are among the most valued clients and, in effect, the lifeblood of the industry.

You can find more of Appolo's work at his website where the slogan is "Our design is an inspiration of Us"

Saint sponsorship?

In Lebanon, everything seems to be marketable, even potential sainthood. This wall ad is positioned along one of downtown Beirut's busiest intersections. It follows last week's beatification ceremony for Father Joseph Haddad, also known as Abouna Yaccoub. It is not clear what the relationship is between the Lebanese Canadian Bank (logo pictured left) and the bearded saint in waiting. Both appear to be enjoying the spotlight though.

The bank, like most in Lebanon, has performed exceedingly well and according to press reports, is now building a new headquarters on one of the most expensive plots in the city (the giant wall ad actually covers the perimeter of the construction site).


Father Yaccoub has also seen his stock grow recently. In the last two weeks his pictures have been plastered everywhere in Christian parts of the city, draping scores of billboards, bridges and even entire apartment buildings. The speed and budget of the campaign for the little known priest has rivaled that of the one created last month to promote the country's new President, Michel Sleiman.

The streets of Beirut don't discriminate. Whether priest, president or bank, all are welcome for the right price.

Beirut V.I.P.

War, peace, it doesn't really matter for Beirut. It's still a playground for the wealthy. This gargantuan yacht--helicopter included-- has been docked at the downtown marina for at least a week now. It apparently has two swimming pools, a gym and a spiral glass staircase, according to a post in the Buzberry blog.

The owner appears to be visiting Lebanon for an extended stay and doesn't mind the exuberant berthing fees or the opportunity cost of keeping a helicopter idle for so long. He/she obviously has a lot of "wasta" (connections) because private helicopters are almost never seen here, and this one is not likely to be taking off any time soon. (Lebanese aviation authorities have too many Israeli aircraft violating the skies to worry about private licensing, it seems.)

Here is a wide angle of the Marina, and the famed St. George Hotel. The yacht above is pictured right of center.



And here is another angle, with some of the more modest guests.

Beirut Hilton--take two

A piece of canvas barely conceals the sign for the new Hilton Hotel in downtown Beirut. A grand opening is planned for this month according to an industry report--and it's just in time. Lebanon is finally expected to have a peaceful summer. Thousands of tourists are reportedly on their way: flights are packed and accommodations are increasingly hard to come by. The country's beleaguered tourism industry is hoping for a major comeback after two consecutive summer conflicts.

If all goes according to plan, this will be the first Hilton to open its door in Beirut, but not the first built in the city. The original Beirut Hilton was built in the 1970s and scheduled to open just before the outbreak of the Lebanese civil war. Instead of a grand opening for tourists, the new hotel was overrun by militias who quickly turned the Hilton, the Intercontinental and the just-built Holiday Inn into bullet-riddled battle positions. By the early 1990s, the central part of town and its luxury establishments were gutted. When reconstruction began at that time, investors decided that the old Hilton, although never used, was beyond repair. A video of the demolition can be found here.

Today downtown Beirut is again poised to be hot destination on the Mediterranean. The new Hilton is flanked by a number of other luxury hotels and apartment towers that are quickly being readied for business.


Hopefully all the opening cermonies will go off without a hitch this time.

Living it up

A new air of optimism prevails in Lebanon today. And as is often the case after a Lebanese war (there have been about half a dozen over the past 50 years) the country is buzzing with excitement and carrying on with life as usual. The streets, recently crowded with political propaganda, have suddenly been switched back to mercantile mode:



Many of these ads replace giant posters of the new President, Michel Sleiman who had ordered his pictures taken down last week. The hope was that other politicians whose faces continue to dot the streets would make similar calls. Local advertisers, on the other hand, still see flag waving as an excellent marketing strategy.

Everyone seems to be catching the buzz, including the national brewery, Almaza:


The cell phone company, MTC Touch:


And Persil, a leading clothing detergent brand:



These massive ads are expensive high quality prints. Some cost tens of thousands of dollars to produce and install. But money seems to be no object for some firms.

Heeding the president's request, an advertising group known as THG almost instantly replaced this 10 story Sleiman poster it sponsored last month:



With this equally sized spot on the same building:



Wealth and creativity abound in Lebanon but I wonder how, and if, nation-building--which the country sorely lacks--can ever be made as lucrative as self-promotion.

Lebanese sitcom

One of the most popular shows in Lebanon is Basmet El Watan, literally, "the country has only died." In addition to being funny, the program also seems to possess psychic qualities.

This scene aired two months before fighting erupted in Beirut. It begins with a couple complaining about how bored they are with the country's night clubs. Never fear, the man says, 'the best soirée' happens at home. He proceeds to invite friends over and all sit around staring at the man for several minutes. Finally, sporadic gunfire is heard in the streets and he announces that the party has started. He asks his wife to confirm.


Party favors are distributed.







The fighting last May seemed to grow out of nowhere but late night shooting incidents have been a regular occurrence since the beginning of the year.

Spoof shows like Basmat El Watan can be more daring than local journalists, using humor to hint at issues that are considered taboo subjects.

Bus parking

This city bus may look like it's part of a stream of traffic, but its actually going nowhere.

There are no passengers and no driver.


Yet the keys are still in the ignition and the engine is on.


Some see the utter lack of traffic rules in Beirut as a chaotic nightmare. But others find the situation charming. Where else in the world can you park a bus in the middle of a lane on a narrow street, back up traffic for blocks, and leave the keys in the ignition?

Playboy and the Rosary

This scooter was parked across the street from a police station in Beirut a couple of nights ago. When I tried to take a picture, an officer sitting in a wooden sentry post outside the station took offense.
"You," he bellowed from his side of the street. "Stop taking photos!"
"Why?" I yelled back.
"It's forbidden," he said. "It belongs to the police."
But I like the 'playboy' emblem," I said.
"Doesn't matter. Photos of the police are forbidden," he said, adding a stern look.

A moment later, another officer standing outside noticed me. He was chit-chatting with a dozen camouflaged colleagues on the sidewalk near the sentry post.
"Hey, what are you doing!" he hollered in my direction. "That's my bike!"
"Can I take a picture of it," I yelled from my side of the street.
"Of course" he replied, trading a wincing look with officer in the sentry post who smiled boyishly, as if he had just scored some much needed attention from the others.

The scooter owner happily rushed over to my side of the street. "You like the playboy?" he asked proudly.
"Yes," I lied.
"Take as many photos as you like," he said, warning, "as long as you don't take a picture of the license plate." He repeated the last phrase for emphasis.

The Lebanese authorities have recently slapped a curfew on the use of scooters after dark. The fear is that young wild boys use them for late night trouble-making prowls that often become political and sectarian in nature. Obviously, the curfew does not apply to young officers.

A scoop of Doha

I saw this ad last night in front of the Haagen Daaz stand in downtown Beirut, which is now buzzing with pedestrian traffic. With its "Doha Agreement Cone" (as seen above) the American ice cream retailer is capitalizing on the recent truce signed by Lebanese politicians and former warlords upon the urging of the Qatari Emir in his country's capital. Haagen Daaz partnered with none other than Qatar Airways to offer the deal.



Does this mean the Emir can have his cone and eat it too?

Beirut boys gone wild

Here are some pictures I took during last night's festivities in downtown Beirut. In a bid to 'rejuvenate' the posh city center--after it had been occupied and thus economically suffocated for the last 17 months by the Hezbollah-led opposition-- rich downtown landowners and other wealthy corporations (i.e. the other side) organized a series of free concerts to stimulate activity in the area.


Thousands attended and performers included top-selling artists such as Rami Ayache, Fadel Shaker and Nancy Ajram, arguably the Arab world's biggest pop star.


What struck me though was the enormous amount of testosterone in the air. The male-female ratio was about 20:2 and those who attended were clearly not the crowd that was expected to spend money in downtown's trendy cafes and restaurants.


Yet the lack of the opposite sex didn't seem to be a problem for the young men who happily danced among themselves.



But revelry quickly gave way to rambunctiousness; pushing and shoving ensued, and the overall atmosphere verged on the aggressive.


They did not appear to be under any influences (alcohol or drugs), in fact many seemed religious: chants praising the Sayed Hassan Nassrallah often erupted spontaneously. They were not the "cool" ecstasy-taking wild of the privileged breed seen in the country's most expensive night clubs and concert venues; they were simply zealous in their machoism, as if they had been freed from oppressing circumstances. When I look back at the scene, it almost reminds me of a prison yard.

I was amazed at the speed in which they rushed to pose for photos.



If I could command so much wild enthusiasm with my tiny digital camera, I wondered how easy their unbridled energy could be harnessed with other incentives. A lucrative population indeed, especially for those with desire, and the means, to rally bodies for political gain.

Resume normal programing

After weeks of broadcasting war-mongering propaganda, Lebanese television stations have resumed their usual diet of music videos, soap operas and cure-all skin cream infomercials. Tasteless as he may seem, credit-card friendly "Dr. Kimaz" (above) is a welcome break from the vilification campaigns that filled the airwaves earlier this month, often supporting the physical battles that went on in the streets of Beirut.

To read more about the media's use as weapon during the conflict, see this article I wrote today for news website Menassat.

Red carpet election: Is the show over?

As we watched a series of foreign dignitaries step out of armored SUVs and Mercedes sedans at the Lebanese parliament today, one journalist remarked, "I feel like I'm at Cannes." Indeed, the red carpet was rolled out and scores of photographers elbowed over one another in paparazzi zeal hoping the dignitaries would turn their way for a good shot. "Mr. Solana!", "Mr. Kouchner!", "Mr. Erdogan!" the yelled desperately, in a reference the the EU foreign policy chief, French foreign minister and Turkey's prime minister as they walked up the parliment steps. Even Iraq's foreign minister, Hoshyar Zebari, showed up for the voting in of Lebanon's new president. "Maybe we should comment on what they are wearing," another reporter on the scene said.


Lebanese journalists have a reason to be skeptical. They have seen this all before: visits by foreign ministers, smiling politicians shaking hands with former enemies; hope springs eternal, but Lebanon's past is a bastion of unresolved differences and unsolved crimes that are likely to haunt its future. Chief among these is the string of assassinations over the past three years. Many wonder, will these acts of murder be swept under the rug, as had been done during numerous other occasions in Lebanese history?

Still, many average citizens are relieved. They are happy to have some semblance of peace in their lives. Even the journalists cheered and clapped as they watched the parliment speaker announce the country's new president. "I am happy, even if we don't have work," a local correspondent for a major Arab news network told me. "It's going to mean a lot more days off," she said smiling.

And although blocks of downtown were sealed off to keep security tight during the vote, we could still hear the crackle of machine gun fire as many of those who took over West Beirut last month also celebrated the occasion.

UPDATE: I've just spoken about the situation with CNN's Hala Gorani and posted more pictures on her blog. I told her that celebratory gunfire continued well into the night, raising the thorny issue of disarmament, which has been an illusive goal for successive Lebanese governments since the end of the civil war. Can the new president make a difference?

Sleiman mania

For some reason, the term 'overkill' has not worked its way into the Lebanese vocabulary. When a new leader arrives on the scene, logic goes that he must be celebrated ad nauseam. Today's leader au jour is army commander Michel Sleiman, as seen about a thousand times this morning on my commute from Mount Lebanon to Beirut. It included:

Sleiman in uniform.


Sleiman in a suit.


Sleiman on the bridges.

Sleiman, Sleiman...


Sleiman, Sleiman.

Two Sleiman's are better than one?


Or three?


Even gas stations caught the buzz.



So who had all the time and money to put up this glossy abundance of signage? The municipalities of greater Beirut apparently.


Filling crater-like pot holes that dot the country's roads or putting up street lamps to illuminate the dark and dangerous highways at night is clearly a second priority for these men in yellow trucks. It's far more important, it seems, to celebrate a leader who has barely made a single public policy speech and whose politics thus remain a complete mystery to most Lebanese.

I'm not saying he is a bad choice. Sleiman is credited with keeping the Army united as the country's politicians toyed with civil war. He is the 'consensus' candidate, loved by all, at least for now.

But his candidacy raises an inherent problem with Lebanese political culture. It is too often based on idolatry rather than issues, limited to stern looks or smiling faces over concrete policies and proposals. To succeed in Lebanese politics is to create a personality cult based on mythological strength rather than identifiable achievements.

Talking to a Hezbollah handyman

Hezbollah is associated with a lot of horrible things in the West, but few would attribute lane painting to the group. I took this photo this afternoon after observing several crews of the Hezbollah construction company Jihad El Bina busy in what they described as a mission to restore downtown Beirut to its former glory. They told me they would leave the posh district "in a better state" than they had found it after setting up a sprawling tent city here 17 months ago in an effort to paralyze the US-backed government.

I couldn't help but joke with the man in the photo above about the color of paint he was using. "Now come on," I said, "I'm sure this lane was painted blue before you guys moved in."

(Blue is the color of the pro-Western parties and yellow is Hezbollah's color)

He laughed and then asked me to join him for a cigarette break. I sat down on the floor and began to ask about his view of the situation. After a few minutes, he decided to show me a photo from his wallet to help put things into perspective. It wasn't a photo of his wife or children but rather a folded-up newspaper clipping of Hezbollah soldiers in marching formation. He pointed himself out as the third man on the right.

He had quite a few things to say in what developed as cordial conversation/lecture. I cannot confirm any of his claims but I will publish them here to provide a little insight into what at least some followers of the party think.

He said the following:

-The United States provided air support to Israel during the July 2006 war as evidenced by the large number of planes attacking Lebanese territory. (He said Hezbollah tracked over 500 aircraft while Israel has far less than that number)

-Hezbollah deployed only a small number of its troops during the recent take over of West Beirut. He said the group merely directed other militias to carry out the operation--meaning it had only exercised a fraction of its true strength.

-Hezbollah discovered large arms caches across Beirut, with weapons presumably supplied by the US government.

-Syria's negotiations with Israel are not intended to make peace, but merely to regain territory

-There will never be peace with Israelis, whom he accuses for being behind the string of assassinations in Lebanon.

-Peace in Lebanon will only last for two years at a maximum. After that, a regional war is likely to break out involving the usual suspects: USA, Iran, Israel, Syria.

Again, these are the views of one man on the street and certainly do not represent the views of the party or its members in general.

Here are some more of the guys fixing up the streets:

Clean up and move on?

Shockingly, the Lebanese leaders seem to have agreed and the most symbolic evidence of this is the end of the opposition's tent city, which stifled the economy of Beirut's posh downtown district for the last 17 months. As soon as the decision was announced, a horde of journalists descended upon the area, which had been virtually off limits to the press since 2006.


But though the opposition seems to handle crises well, they didn't seem to be prepared for a stampede of journalists. After about 20 minutes of a free-for-all, they began stopping us from filming (see man pointing at me in center).


For some reason, they didn't really want to share this scene with the rest of the world, but that proved difficult to enforce in the middle of the city, and journalists continued filming from the highway overpass, where they set up live shots and parked their satellite trucks.



As is usually the case in these acts of civil disobedience, Sukleen, the city's garbage company, was called in to help clean up the political mess.

But opposition campers asked them to cease and desist when they touched their refrigerators.

It appears the fridge was a "khat ahmar" or red line and the garbage collectors were asked to move on.

In the end however, it seemed to be a happy day for everyone, with many average Lebanese coming back downtown for the first time in months.


And with optimism in the air, shops restaurants that had been closed for over a year, began scrubbing down their dust-caked windows.

I overheard the manager of an Italian restaurant ordering spaghetti and new uniforms as he stood outside talking to a supplier. You've got to hand it to these shop owners, after sustaining nearly two years in lost revenue, they are ready to reopen in a couple of hours notice.

And even in the tent city, despite its cardboard shanty town look, the young activists still retained a sense of style, as seen here in this makeshift espresso stand, dedicated to the resistance.

A polite militia

A lot has been said about all the terrible things that happened in West Beirut last week: the burning of a TV station and newspaper office, the shooting up of buildings, the revival of civil war era turf boundaries, the list goes on and on. But few media reports have captured what appears to be a certain chivalry among at least some of the machine-gun toting men that temporarily ruled the capital's streets. In fact, most were really just boys, and many, aspiring students at the American University of Beirut (pictured above) and other nearby colleges.

The American university is situated in the heart of West Beirut, which during the temporary coup of sorts was largely governed by the Syrian Socialist National Party or SSNP. (The party's black and red flag is still visible in the image above, perched on a light post just above the center stone arch known as Main Gate).

The flag is intimidating enough--students and faculty are forced to pass under it on their way to and from class each day--but by many accounts, the party's members are not. Three reliable sources have described their experiences to me and I have personally dealt with the militants once myself during a rather animated exchange at a checkpoint. Here is a brief summary:

The first source is an American professor at AUB who was temporarily detained by the armed men after taking photographs of them during a lull in the shooting. "They were polite," he told me. "One of them described himself as a dental student." The professor said the boys had pulled him aside and asked why he was taking the photos. When he replied by saying that pictures of the militants were all over the news and the internet, the boys were stunned: "It was news to them," the professor said with a grin. The boys then asked him to delete any photos revealing their faces but assured him that he could keep all other photos. "They looked more scarred than me," he said. "They were tired. They just wanted to go home," he added.

A similar story was told by a friend who works for a major international organization. She had been dying to take a photo of one of the SSNP flags that was recently hung outside her house, but was too intimidated to do so due the presence of armed men constantly congregating around it. Finally, all was clear one morning and she went out to snap a picture. A few moments later she found herself surrounded by six men with scarves covering their faces. However her fears quickly evaporated when one spoke. "He was very well-mannered," she said, blushing slightly as she admitted he had 'nice eyes' and a soothing voice. Again, the militants only asked to see if the photos revealed faces. "We don't want to delete any other pictures you've taken," they told her, then added warmly: "We are very sorry to have bothered you."

My third account comes from another AUB professor, who enjoys his drink so much that he drove halfway across town late one night in search of an open bar, despite fresh gun battles. After having digested the fact that he was not joking about his desire to cross over to East Beirut for a glass of whiskey, three armed young men on scooters cordially advised him on a route around their checkpoint. It involved driving the wrong way down a one-way tunnel, they said, advising the use of hazard lights and honking.

Finally, my story. As I was driving home one night, I took a short cut through a West Beirut neighborhood. To my surprise, a narrow street that stood between me and my apartment was suddenly barricaded on both ends, a distance of less than 100 meters. Suddenly I was approached by a man in black with a walkie talkie. Before I could get a word out, he motioned to a couple of others who began pushing the plastic barricade out of the way. I sheepishly drove forward noticing a group of black-clad men seated in plastic chairs on my left starring as my car passed. A moment later, I pulled up to the next barricade at the opposite end of the block but this time the two men manning it scowled. At first they refused to make passage but suddenly the man at the other end of the road yelled out in Arabic "open it, let him through", and hesitantly, they began pushing barricades. I couldn't help but ask. I lowered my window and said: "Is this a new checkpoint?" An affable young man in his early twenties replied: "No, we've been here since the beginning--but we always let people pass who live in the area." But, how did you know I live here, I countered. He produced a broad 'i have my sources' smile. "Good people are always apparent," he said, with a slight wink.

I still wonder whether the men had actually kept tabs on my car, which I usually park on the street, or whether they were impressed by my beard, which had become quite thick during the week of street violence. In either case, they seemed rather trustworthy and decent, much to the contrast of their portrayals in the media.

Sleiman for president?

It seems the Lebanese politicians in Doha have agreed on at least one thing: elect Army general Michel Sleiman as president. Of course this is nothing new, lending credibility to those who see the talks as a waste of time. This is because both sides of the USA-Iran confrontation in Lebanon have already agreed to Sleiman months ago, they just cannot agree on a government. But interestingly, the opposition's hooded gunmen who overran West Beirut last week may have a different view, as seen in the tearing up of Sleiman posters above.

Here are some more souvenirs from last week's surprise attack/temporary coup:



I took these photos near Hamra, one of the many neighborhoods that was held by militants. The upper image is that of late prime minister Rafik Hariri. In the lower image, Hariri is spared but his son and sucessor is torn to shreds.

By desecrating the symbols of Sunni power in Beirut, opposition forces have crossed a 'red line 'in Lebanon's political mentality according to security expert Timur Goksel as quoted in this Jerusalem Post article.

The fear is that Sunnis will not stand for this kind of humiliation and may procure increased arms as a result.

Don't come back from Doha

As Lebanese politicians try to make peace in Qatar this weekend--or at least say they are trying to make peace--average citizens are fuming. They are utterly fed up with the performance of their so-called leaders over the past 3 years, which have seen a long list of assassinations and terrorist attacks that remain unsolved to this day, as well as two devastating wars that have wrecked the country for two consecutive summers. In the photo above (courtesy LA Times blog) some of the survivors of previous wars ask the leaders not to come back if they don't work out an agreement. But privately, many Lebanese say they wish the politicians never come back. In fact, those I have spoken to say they hope something terrible happens to all of them, either during their meeting in Doha or on the way back. The hatred people in this country have for their leaders is a sign of the failure of the Lebanese political system. In the 60 years since it was established, little progress has been made on the country's social and economic problems, and by and large, those participating in the system share the same last names as those who founded it.

“West Beirut” revival

For the past few days, many Lebanese have been using the term “West Beirut” as in easy way to define the mainly Sunni parts of the capital that came under the control of the opposition. The revival of this term is worrying because it conjures up memories of 1980s Beirut, where Christian militias held the east part of town and Muslim ones held the west, making travel between the two nearly impossible. In some ways, that East-West split was recreated thanks to the opposition’s ‘take over the streets with masked gunmen’ strategy. It gave many young Beirutis a taste of those bad old days, including a real “green line” separating the capital’s Christian and Muslim quarters. The picture above is from the Sodeco intersection, which delineates part of the line.

For those who grew up in the early 1990s, the green line was largely a legend of the past; an alien concept to the legions of college students who attend the American universities in West Beirut during the day and then party all night long in the night club districts of Monnot and Gemayze in the Christian areas. But over the past week, that simple act of driving five minutes across town suddenly became a labyrinth of roadblocks and armed men. I made the journey a couple of nights ago and it involved several winding detours and four roadblocks, only one of which was manned by army soldiers. Here’s a picture I took during the day of the biggest roadblock on the highway connecting Hamra (West Beirut) with Tabaris (East Beirut).


Unlike the civil war, the new green line was established following an agreement between Hezbollah and its Christian ally Michel Aoun, who noted recently on television that Christian areas would be sparred from the militants’ hostile takeover of Sunni parts of town. Thus West Beirut was redefined as the conflict zone, the arena for what the opposition called an act of civil disobedience, but what an actuality culminated in a bloody siege of the city under the power of rocket propelled grenades. Last night, the opposition began taking down its roadblocks, in a move they are now celebrating as a successful political pressure tactic on the pro-USA government. But by recreating the green line, they clearly also knew that they were playing with fire. If violence had spilled over into Christian areas—and taken on an added sectarian momentum—clashes could still be raging right now, not only in Beirut, but across the whole country.

Tonight the roadblocks are gone, but the Lebanese are still deeply worried about what tomorrow will bring.

Victory by bulldozer

In what would appear to be a shining moment in the history of the construction industry, road clearing suddenly became live breaking news across the Arab world today. For over half an hour, audiences around the region were gripped by the action: the methodical and utterly predictable motions of bulldozers picking up a load, hoisting it up into the air, releasing it into a dump truck and then repeating the cycle, over and over again. It was almost therapeutic. A bit of mundane earth removal (courtesy of Hezbollah) to seal a semblance of closure on a week of chaos.

In addition to the Lebanese Broadcasting Corp. or LBC (top photo), which carried a live shot of the airport road being unblocked, local station New TV also carried the event live, from a major Beirut intersection that has also been rendered inoperable by a series of sand berms.



Al Arabiya interrupted regular programing to carry the bulldozing:


As did Al Manar, the Hezbollah channel, which panned to show a shot of the Lebanese army standing by to observe the dirt removal. It seemed to be quite a show for the soldiers, who vied for space on the roof of their APC to get a good view:


And as usual, the temporary take over of the state proved to be a fun day for the whole family to enjoy:


But Al Manar TV had already claimed victory earlier today, noting that the Arab league delegation (headed by Qatar) visited opposition leader and speaker of Parliament Nabih Berri, before visiting the offices of the Prime minister and the Lebanese cabinet. As we can see in the photo below, the opposition leaders had put out fruit cocktails, a favorite in the Arab gulf, for their Qatari guests.


And although some may wonder why it is seemingly normal in Lebanon for a visiting government delegation to meet first with opposition politicians before greeting the head of the country's government, local viewers were probably just happy the lotto was back on tonight



As I type this, I can hear a plane landing at the airport, the first to do so in over a week. The streets of the city are slowly filling back up with traffic and I've seen some shoppers in Hamra, a major commercial area. Many are wondering: is this the new normal?