Mayssoun Sukarieh
Mondoweiss / August 12, 2024
During the past week, Israeli jets have been flying very low over Lebanon, a constant reminder of the looming threat of war. “If they want to wage war on us, so be it. Perhaps it could lessen the pressure on Gaza,” my mother says.
What to take and what to leave in case of war? Shall I take my passport? Even if I wanted to leave, I couldn’t; the only border is with Syria. I would be stopped and grilled by border control when I return to the UK. In any case, I will not leave or evacuate like foreigners, leaving the country and my family just because I have the luxury to do so. I kept the passport in Beirut and brought only my Lebanese ID, in case I needed it.
It was a few days after the attack that killed Shukr, the Hezbollah leader. Drums of war are everywhere, and the city is in panic. Discussions about whether Beqaa is safer than Beirut abound. Who can reason with Israel, anyway? We packed the house and left the doors half open in case there were big explosions, so there wouldn’t be too much pressure. Are we saying goodbye to the house? What if it gets hit? We are in a safe area — Israel won’t hit Ras Beirut, they say! But are there any safe areas in wars? Gaza tells us otherwise.
“Will there be a war?” a passenger in the service-taxi in Beirut asked. The driver immediately said, “What do you mean, will there be a war? There is already a war! I haven’t been to my village in the south all this year. Over thirty villages are leveled to the ground. Whole areas are burned. Is not that war, or do we call it war only when it is in Beirut? Is not the south part of this country?”
We left Beirut in less than twenty minutes even though it was noon, a road that usually takes no less than an hour. The roads were empty. Beirut suddenly looked beautiful, a city that has started to regain a bit of its life after a few years of terrible economic crisis. Buildings once hated now suddenly look beautiful, a sudden feeling of nostalgia for a city that no longer exists, a city that suddenly looks charming.
The Beqaa roads were full. Perhaps everyone left the city. Perhaps they also thought like us — wars are more bearable in smaller villages; they are harder in cities, even if we know that nowhere is safe.
Messengers of war
Embassies, the media, and Lebanese citizens living abroad caused panic and fear in the country, leading the psychological war. It is nerve-wracking and exhausting to keep receiving messages or reading in the news about embassies asking their citizens to leave Beirut — either ASAP or within the next 72 hours, or on the earliest flight they can find.
Flight prices rocketed, with $1500 to Turkey and $1400 to Paris. Once most airlines stopped flights to Beirut, trips to Cyprus, which used to cost $150, are now $1000 by boat! It is depressing to read about airlines cancelling flights or halting all trips to Beirut — will we be cut off from the world around us, and how long would it be for? The alerts from embassies and airline decisions have become the barometer of the looming war over the country.
One wonders what will happen to the billboards all over the country welcoming the summer visitors. It is summer season, and Lebanese spread all over the world come to visit. It is the season the country waits for to get some fresh dollars and much-needed economic activity. In a week, almost all of those who have countries to go to have left! Replacing them are journalists and reporters and cameramen from well-known newspapers who are coming to Beirut, expecting a war to report, as we read in the news. Another barometer that the war is coming. It will be long, according to the long-term rents the journalists are securing. The embassies and the Western media are the barometers of wars — somehow we believe that they know.
For those who are not blessed with foreign passports, there are decisions to be made — whether to stay in Beirut or move to other regions; Bekaa, north, the mountains, but of course, not the south.
Where will Israel hit? Perhaps we can check the alerts from the foreign offices. The British say to avoid Beqaa and the south, same as the Americans.
And of course, avoid Beirut.
So what is left of the country? Again, they know. It is where decisions are taken, and we need to believe them.
There is something surreal in all this. Embassies only care for their own citizens, a message for the Lebanese that it is OK if they get killed. It is OK if you are unsafe, OK if you are starved or bombed. Your lives do not matter. We already saw this in Gaza! Newspapers are war chasers, jumping from one place to the other where their countries predict wars. Do we need these journalists? What did the world’s knowledge of what is happening to Palestinians in Gaza matter? They are still subject to ongoing genocide.
Lebanese abroad also participate in the panic. They read the news and start pushing people to leave. Lebanese in France insist that Iran will hit before the end of August, or maybe on the fifteenth! Somehow, we believe them. Aren’t they living in the center? They must know! They are the experts, they know from their governments, who warn of war but just watch it, allow it as long as their citizens are not in the country,
‘We do not want war !’
The road to Beqaa is filled with We Do Not Want War! billboards. They include pictures of happy Lebanese all westernized by the beach, in restaurants, or in different visits to Lebanon. On some of these, people have inscribed, “War is not a choice, it is imposed on us.” This reminded me of the I Love Life campaign after the 2006 war. It was a campaign paid for by Saatchi and Saatchi, claiming that some of the Lebanese do not love life and have a culture of death, while others have a culture of life and love to live. At that time, Hezbollah launched a counter-campaign, inscribing under “I love life” words such as “with dignity, with liberation.”
This time, however, many of those who are for life with dignity remain skeptical of an all-out war. This is partly because Iran is not to be trusted after Syria and Iraq, partly because of the disappointment in Hezbollah of not supporting Palestinians more in the current war on Gaza, and partly because the U.S. and Iran do not want the war. While in 2006 there was a clear-cut distinction between those who were for the resistance and those who were against it, the war on Syria and Hezbollah’s involvement in many other Arab countries have made them lose the support of many in the pro-Palestine camp. The slogan, my enemy’s enemy is my friend, does not hold anymore. My enemy’s enemy does not have to be my friend.
What will we do in case Israel hits Beqaa ?
Even those who do not believe there will be an all-out war believe that some kind of war might erupt at any point. What will we tell the children, then? Or what do we tell older people who are scared? There are many excuses;, that it’s safe in our village. Or they are extracting sand from the mountains, or perhaps a joke that the results of the baccalaureat — high school — are out, and everyone passed and parents are celebrating with new ideas.
It is panic all around, whether one believes there is war or not. We are bound to worry, and the images from Gaza we see all the time are a good reminder of what war might look like and how the world will leave us alone. For my mother, though, “we are not better than the Gazans, and if they want to wage war on us, let it be. Perhaps it could lessen the pressure on Gaza, and that will be the only good reason for the war. That will be the only reason we can accept a war!”
Divine intervention
During the past week, Israeli jets have been flying very low over the country, a constant reminder of the looming threat of war. In the news, it is all about Iran and its proxies stating that, in reality, Israel is leading wars everywhere. Biden is boasting that he is the only president who had no war during his term. We laugh. What does he call the war on Gaza? Is it not an American-Israeli war fully funded by the U.S.? Ammunition, weapons, guided missiles? What do you call this? Not your war!
It is a world gone mad. For those who are pro-Palestine and concerned with the genocide, there is a total disenchantment with any form of justice. There is no hope in any rule of law or international law; it is a trap. There is no hope except in divine intervention. Some of us imagine being invisible and getting rid of all those who are actively participating in the genocide. Others dream of superpowers that can take us to certain meetings and blow them up, and yet others dream of natural disasters like earthquakes that can wipe out those who are involved in the killing.
I think of Walter Benjamin, writing during the Holocaust. Benjamin wrote: “Marx says that revolutions are the locomotive of world history. But perhaps it is quite otherwise. Perhaps revolutions are an attempt by the passengers on this train — namely, the human race — to pull the emergency brake.” I only understand what he meant now. Perhaps we all need to stop our lives and act now. In times of genocide, pulling the brakes is an act of revolution. Will we pull the brakes? Unlikely.
Mayssoun Sukarieh is a member of the research committee at the Institute of Palestine Studies
