Many things can be said about the July-August 2006 war,whose first anniversary we will be commemorating later thismonth. However, for those who lived through it, a singleenduring image remains: that of sudden, irrevocable,traumatic collapse into chaos.
One minute the Lebanese were enjoying the start of whatlooked to be a prosperous summer, the country was awash withemigrants and visitors, and the football World Cup had hadcreated a sense of being hooked into the nodes of acelebrating world; the next minute, Lebanon was being bombedremorselessly, citizens had become refugees in their owncountry, tourists and visitors were taking to the sea, andthe link to the world had been brutally severed with thesudden closing of Beirut Rafik Hariri International Airport.
In what was an instant, Lebanon’s capitalist culture, aculture of openness, of the promotion of free minds and thefree pursuit of profit, had been overturned by one ofconflict and destruction. The country never recovered fromthat transformation, and to this day is paying the price forthe aftermath of that war, which profoundly divided Lebanesesociety.
The mythology of Lebanon’s summer tourism season has beenworn to the bone. The country can be heading to hell in ahand basket, but people will react most sensitively to thefact “summer” is threatened. Somehow, the symbolism of thatthree-month moment cannot be underestimated: it is themoment of Lebanon’s communion with the outside, when a yearof sluggish business can be righted, when politicians take abreak and when people can take a break from politics. Moreominously, it’s also the time when Lebanon has usually beenhit by disaster: the mass entry of Syrian troops in 1976;the 1978 Israeli invasion, followed by that of 1982; thebeginning of the killings after the Syrian withdrawal in2005; the summer war of 2006. The Lebanese psyche seemsforever buffeted by this struggle between profitablenormalcy and debilitating conflict; and most of the timethat psyche is bathed in the hues of a single season:summer.
Today we’re back to the same worries again. Things startedearly this year. In fact, the summer season was the firstcasualty of Lebanon’s proliferating crises and bomb attacks.The bombings in Ashrafieh, Verdun and Aley were all, to alarge extent, designed to suffocate the tourist season itits egg. While not devastating on a human level, at least inlight of what Lebanon endured in the past, the bombings havebeen devastating to the economy. Travel agencies now reportmass cancellations of reservations; restaurants areoperating at well below their capacity, particularly inBeirut; and by 9 p.m., most streets are empty.
Hanoi or Hong Kong?
Once again, the symbolism is stark. In denying Lebanonnormalization, those who planted the bombs went after itsAchilles heel: summer. The pendulum is again swingingbetween a culture of destruction and a culture of opennessand free-wheeling profit. This dividing line has been apersistent one in postwar Lebanon. It was the Druze leaderWalid Jumblatt who summarized it best when he distinguishedbetween “Hanoi and Hong Kong” in the early 1990s. What hemeant, or what he asked, was whether Lebanon would become anemblem of militancy and armed struggle, particularly againstIsrael, as best represented by Hezbollah? Or would thecountry opt for the path laid out by the late Rafik Hariri,who sought to transform Lebanon into a business nexus forthe region, a bastion of liberal capitalism and ecumenicalpermissiveness?
To this day, Lebanon hasn’t found an answer to thatquestion, hence its dilemma as two vastly different projectscontinue to drive apart its political class and its society.Some months ago, after the summer war, a publicity campaignplayed on this perceived difference. The “I Love Life”billboard campaign, which was directed against mainly whatwas seen as Hezbollah’s ideology of war, provoked animmediate reaction from the opposition. In response, it toobegan an “I Love Life” campaign, falling into the trap ofdeploying a discourse shaped by its adversaries. However,more significant was that the opposition was destabilized bythe accusation that it did not love life. Maybe there wassome hope there.
But hope or no hope, for the foreseeable future Lebanonseems destined to remain a front line in the clash between acapitalist culture and a culture that aims to underminethis; between Hong Kong and Hanoi; between a country thatawaits summer impatiently, but then all too often findsitself dealing with an early winter.
Michael Young
