For Lebanese, recovery too heavy to bear a month after blast

By SARAH EL DEEB 

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This Aug. 29, 2020 photo shows destroyed buildings near the scene of last month's massive explosion that hit the seaport of Beirut, Lebanon. A month after the giant explosion that killed and injured thousands and destroyed homes across the Lebanese capital, Beirut is still a wounded, grieving city struggling to come to grips with the calamity that struck abruptly on Aug.4. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)

BEIRUT (AP) — A month after Beirut’s devastating explosion, Ghassan Toubaji still sits under a gaping hole in his ceiling — he can look up through the dangling plaster, wires and metal struts and the broken brick roof and see a bit of sky.

The 74-year-old survived the Aug. 4 blast with bruises, but his fall from its impact worsened his heart and blood circulation diseases. Between that and Lebanon’s crumbled economy, he can’t go back to work.

He used the last of the dollars his wife had been hoarding — a precious commodity as the local currency’s value evaporates — to fix the windows shattered by the explosion.

Teams of volunteers, a symbol of the help-each-other spirit that’s grown up from the failures of Lebanon’s corrupt political class, came by his apartment and assessed the damage. They put plastic on the windows and promised glass for free eventually. Four weeks later they hadn’t come back.

With a sweet patient smile, he said he appreciated how well meaning the young volunteers were. But he couldn’t wait — with humidity reaching 80% some days and the summer sun directed all day into his apartment, he had to do something.

“Our house is hot as hell,” he said, sitting in baggy shorts and a tank top as he watched the news in the room with the hole overhead.

Lebanese families are still struggling with rebuilding in the wake of the massive explosion centered at Beirut’s port. Many, already unable to make ends meet because of the country’s economic meltdown, now can’t bear costs of making homes livable. Frustration is high, with the state almost nowhere to be seen and promised international help slow in coming.

With winter and the rainy season only weeks away, aid groups are concerned they may not have time or resources for the mammoth job of repairing and rebuilding.

Around 200,000 housing units, approximately 40,000 buildings, were damaged in the blast, 3,000 of them so severely they are currently uninhabitable, according to U.N. estimates.

The loss of homes is just one of the indignities from the explosion, the result of nearly 3,000 tons of improperly stored and rotting ammonium nitrates igniting at the port. The blast, one of the strongest non-nuclear explosions ever recorded, killed more than 190 and injured thousands.

A month later, Beirut is still a wounded, grieving city struggling with the calamity that abruptly altered so many lives. Tall buildings still face the port with blown-up facades. Hundreds-year old stone buildings have gaping holes and missing balconies. Features of small streets parallel to the port have been totally erased. Residents walk around with patched up eyes, bandaged arms or on crutches.

Social media are still awash with people sharing their stories and videos and recounting their persisting trauma. Pictures of the dead are plastered in neighborhoods. “He is a victim, not a martyr,” read one poster, rebuffing authorities’ attempts to give the dead that esteemed label of self-sacrifice for a cause, seen as a way to water down their own responsibility.

The United Nations appealed for $344.5 million in emergency funds to last until November, and a donor conference was co-hosted by France and the U.N. days after the blast. But so far only 16.3% of the funds have been received.

Of the total pledges, $84.5 million is meant for securing and repairing shelter, but only $1.9 million has been dispersed, said Elena Dikomitis, advocacy adviser for Norwegian Refugees Council for Lebanon.

Aid groups worry the funds are not robust enough.

“The cold and rain could start as early as October,” she said. “For sure, tens of thousands of houses can’t be repaired in time. That we know for sure, even with all the ongoing efforts.”

The NRC is working in two of the hardest-hit neighborhoods, Karantina and Mar Mikhail. It is targeting 12,400 people for help with shelter and 16,800 for water, sanitation and hygiene interventions before March 2021, she said.

Lebanon already has highly vulnerable populations that need help for shelter in winter, including more than 1 million Syrian refugees, the majority of whom live in substandard conditions and now risk being overlooked. “On top of those people ... you also now have all the new homeless of Beirut,” Dikomitis said.

The international community, aware of public anger in Lebanon over rampant corruption, has said it would funnel money away from government institutions and work only through international organizations and the U.N.

Many Beirutis say they are sick of hearing about aid on the way, as they struggle to stay above water in the financial crisis.

The currency has crashed in value to the dollar, and banks locked down dollar accounts to prevent capital flight. Prices have skyrocketed, and imports are limited in a country that imports nearly everything. Unable to access their money, even the most able are struggling to secure materials for repairs.

“Nobody has helped us with even a nail,” said Robert Hajj, owner of a scooter center wrecked in the blast. “Each day’s delay is deteriorating our companies ... Our money is blocked in the banks.”

“They made us give up,” he said.

With little to no safety net, elderly like Toubaji are hit hard.

He has no pension, no social or medical insurance, so he and his wife, both over 70, had to keep working. Toubaji worked charging fees from people to get papers signed for them at the Finance Ministry, wading through the bureaucracy.

He was forced to stay home by the slump and the ensuing nationwide protests that began in October. His wife, a seamstress, is also virtually out of work.

They have been eating away at the 30 million Lebanese pounds in their bank account. Overnight in the financial crisis, their savings’ value dropped from $20,000 to just above $3,000. His wife had kept some dollars at home, away from the banks, but that went into fixing their windows.

“You know how much the meter of glass costs? $160,” Toubaji said.

If the ceiling is not fixed, rain will come in. Or worse — a few days ago brick from a neighbor’s damaged house hit his roof and knocked a chunk more of the broken ceiling down onto a sofa. His home’s main wooden door also remains damaged, its splintered shards glued back in place.

“I don’t have a leader that I follow to chase and secure money,” Toubaji said, referring to Lebanon’s sectarian-based patronage system that fills the place of the absent state.

When the blast happened, Toubaji fell on his face, and shattered glass covered his back. He now walks slowly, worried his knees cannot keep him up straight.

He said Lebanon, too, had fallen because of violence and conflict before and every time, it managed to stand up “and good people came to help.”

This time, he is not so sure.

Politicians “have robbed the country and the banks are broke. Who would help the country get up on its feet this time?”

Families of Lebanese blast victims plead for outside inquiry

By ZEINA KARAM and LORI HINNANT
August 14, 2020

In this August 6, 2020 file photo, Lebanese army soldiers stand guard at the scene where an explosion hit on Tuesday the seaport of Beirut, Lebanon. Lebanon's judicial investigation of the Beirut port explosion started with political wrangling over the naming of a lead investigator, military threats to jail leakers and doubts over whether a panel appointed along sectarian lines could be fully impartial. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla, File)


BEIRUT (AP) — Lebanon’s judicial investigation of the Beirut port explosion started with political wrangling over the naming of a lead investigator, military threats to jail leakers and doubts over whether a panel appointed along sectarian lines could be fully impartial.




So for many Lebanese, their greatest hope for credible answers about the blast that wrecked much of their capital may lie with outsiders. Families of the dead and survivors on Friday called on the U.N. Security Council for an international investigation. Others pin their hopes on the French forensic police who have joined the probe and FBI investigators are expected to take part. Two French investigating magistrates have been assigned to the case, the Paris prosecutor’s office said Friday.

“We are not lawyers or politicians, we are families and people, our appeal today is to the people of the international community,” said Paul Najjar, a survivor of the explosion. “Is it acceptable today that people would find their homes shattered, their families killed, their hopes and their dreams killed as well, with no justice, in all impunity?”

A Lebanese prosecutor on Friday postponed the questioning of former and current, caretaker finance and public works ministers, pending a letter from the newly appointed investigator assigned to the case that says he lacked the authority to question ministers.

French teams have pressed ahead at their work, sending divers into the underwater crater, taking explosives samples and preparing recommendations for both the French and Lebanese magistrates. Among the French judicial police on the case are men and women who responded after the 2004 tsunami in Japan, the 2010 earthquake in Haiti, and the November 2015 and Bastille Day 2016 terror attacks in France.

The Beirut explosion lies at the crossroads of a disastrous accident and a crime scene. It still was not known what sparked the fire that ignited nearly 3,000 tons of ammonium nitrate that were stored for years in Beirut’s port next to densely populated residential areas. Documents have emerged that show the country’s top leadership and security officials were aware of the stockpile.




FILE - In this Aug. 13, 2020 file photo, NGO volunteers hold up placards against Lebanese politicians, as they protest during the visit of U.S. Undersecretary of State for Political Affairs David Hale to the main gathering point for volunteers, near the site of last week's explosion that hit the seaport of Beirut, Lebanon. For many Lebanese, their greatest hope for credible answers about the blast that wrecked much of their capital lies with outsiders. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla, File)

Search and rescue crews flew in from around the world in the immediate aftermath and found themselves looking at a scene that was both familiar and yet strangely alien.

“In an earthquake, it’s easier because we can understand ... how it moves. But in this case, we didn’t have enough elements to understand what happened,” said Alberto Boanini, a member of the Italian rescue team. The team has seen its share of quakes and forest fires, but nothing quite like the port in Beirut, where he said it was hard to fathom what could level it so completely.

Many Lebanese want the probe taken out of the hands of their own government, having learned from past experience that the long-entrenched political factions, notorious for corruption, won’t allow any results damaging to their leadership to come to light. The explosion killed more than 175 people, injured at least 6,000 and left tens of thousands homeless




Paris sent judicial police and assigned the magistrates in Paris this week because two French citizens were among the dead, and French law gives jurisdiction for an investigation if a citizen dies abroad under questionable circumstances.

But the French investigators work only at the invitation of the Lebanese, and their orders are confidential.

French officials say they have the access they need but will not say whether their inquiry extends to questioning witnesses or requesting documents. They hand over their findings to the Lebanese, but keep a mirror copy for a French inquiry. The FBI is also joining at Lebanese authorities’ invitation.

“At the request of the Government of Lebanon, the FBI will be providing our Lebanese partners investigative assistance in their investigation into the explosions at the Port of Beirut on August 4th,” the FBI said, adding that it was not an FBI investigation.

Top Lebanese officials, including President Michel Aoun, have rejected calls for an independent probe, describing it as “a waste of time” and suggesting it would be politicized. Nonetheless, Nada Abdelsater-Abusamra, a lawyer representing victims, said a letter was submitted this week to the U.N. Security Council asking for an international investigation.

“The Lebanese government refused to do it … they are claiming it will affect the sovereignty of Lebanon,” she said. “This is ridiculous. The only thing that the international investigation affects is the position of these rulers and these politicians.”

The leader of the powerful Hezbollah group on Friday said he did not trust any international investigation — claiming the first thing it would do is clear Israel of any responsibility in the port explosion.

Israel has denied involvement and so far no evidence has emerged pointing otherwise, but Aoun, who is supported by Hezbollah, has said it’s one of the theories being investigated. In a speech Friday night, Hezbollah’s Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah said Israel will be met “with an equally devastating response” if the investigation points to its involved.

In its last decision before resigning under pressure, six days after the explosion, Prime Minister Hassan Diab’s government referred the case to the Higher Judicial Council, Lebanon’s highest justice authority, to carry out the investigation.

An argument then ensued with the outgoing justice minister over the investigation’s lead judge. After public wrangling, they compromised on Judge Fadi Sawwan, a former military investigating judge.

The Council itself is made up of 10 people, eight of whom are appointed according to the interests of the various political factions and religious sects in line with Lebanon’s sectarian power-sharing system.

The authorities have so far arrested more than 19 people, including the head of the Customs Department and his predecessor, as well as the head of the port.

Lebanese say they want to see investigations into top officials who knew about the ammonium nitrate.

“They will blame the small guys while the ones who are really responsible will get away with their crime, that’s what will happen,” said Jad, a 38-year-old computer engineer who declined to give his full name in line with his company’s regulations not to discuss politics.

“If this time there is no credible, serious investigation that will lead to the punishment of everyone responsible for this disaster, it is goodbye Lebanon. No one will ever want to live in this country again,” he said, standing on a bridge overlooking the decimated port.

Explosions have marked a grim timeline in Lebanon’s modern history and have killed presidents, prime ministers and countless journalists and activists during the country’s 1975-90 civil war and beyond.

Almost none of the perpetrators were ever arrested or tried, and the truth was invariably buried. Lebanese had high hopes that the U.N.-backed tribunal investigating the 2005 killing of Prime Minister Rafik Hariri would be a chance to end impunity in Lebanon. But it took 15 years and was marred by doubts, politics and more deaths. The tribunal is to issue verdicts Tuesday.

International involvement in the investigation might bring some truth, but bringing justice is more complicated. Dov Jacobs, an international legal scholar based in the Netherlands, said the shooting down of Malaysia Airlines Flight 17 over eastern Ukraine six years ago might be the closest analogy.

In that case, international experts had full access to the site, and international prosecutors charged three Russians and a Ukrainian with involvement in bringing down the plane and the murder of all on board. The men are on trial in a Dutch court in absentia, since none have been extradited.

But in Lebanon, Jacobs said, “the investigation itself is a tool of political influence. It’s one of those frustrating moments where immediate calls for justice are faced with a wall which is the political reality on the ground.”

___

Hinnant reported from Paris. Associated Press writers Sylvie Corbet in Paris and Sarah El Deeb in Beirut contributed to this report

https://apnews.com/64b3226337874969e2cbf375c6c37fc3

Captain astonished that his ship delivered Beirut explosive
DARIA LITVINOVA, Associated Press•August 6, 2020


Boris Prokoshev, a sea captain poses for a photo after his interview with the Associated Press outside Sochi, Russia, Thursday, Aug. 6, 2020. When Boris Prokoshev, a sea captain spending his retirement years in a southern Russia village, woke up and found an email saying a ship he once commanded had carried the ammonium nitrate that devastatingly exploded in Beirut, he was astonished. The 2,750 tons of ammonium nitrate that blew up in Beirut’s port on Tuesday wasn’t supposed to be in Lebanon at all. It was bound from the Black Sea for Mozambique, but made an unscheduled detour to Beirut and never left there. (AP Photo/Kirill Lemekh)More



MOSCOW (AP) — When Boris Prokoshev, a former sea captain spending his retirement years in a Russian village, woke up and found an email saying a ship he once commanded had carried the ammonium nitrate that blew up swathes of Beirut, he was astonished.

“I didn't understand anything,” he told The Associated Press on Thursday from Verkhnee Buu, 1300 kilometers (800 miles) south of Moscow.

The email was from a journalist, he said, and titled with the name of the MV Rhosus, which he had captained on a voyage that he was never paid for.

“I opened my inbox and saw a letter about the Rhosus; I thought maybe they were sending me money, my salary,” he said.


The 2,750 tons of ammonium nitrate that blew up in Beirut's port on Tuesday — killing 135 people, injuring more than 5,000 and causing widespread destruction — wasn't supposed to have been in Lebanon at all. When the Rhosus set sail from the Georgian Black Sea port of Batumi, it was bound for the Mozambican port of Beira.

But it made an unscheduled detour to Beirut as the Russian shipowner was struggling with debts and hoped to earn some extra cash in Lebanon.

Igor Grechushkin, a Russian businessman residing in Cyprus, bought the cargo ship in 2012 from Cypriot businessman Charalambos Manoli. Grechushkin has been questioned by police on request of Interpol's Lebanon office, said Cypriot police spokesman Christos Andreou, but he has not been detained.

Prokoshev, now 70, said he joined the ship in Turkey in 2013, after the previous crew quit over unpaid wages. Grechushkin, who resides in Cyprus, was paid $1 million to transport the dangerous cargo from Georgia to Mozambique, the former captain said.

The chemicals were to be delivered to Fábrica de Explosivos de Moçambique, a company majority-owned by the Portuguese explosives company Moura Silva e Filhos.

Importing ammonium nitrate is common in Mozambique, either to make fertilizer or for use as explosives in quarries and coal pits.

The ship made a stop in Beirut to try to earn extra money by taking on several pieces of heavy machinery. But that additional cargo proved too heavy for the Rhosus and the crew refused to take it on. The Rhosus was soon impounded by the Lebanese authorities for failing to pay port fees, and never left the port again.

Prokoshev and three other crew members were forced to remain on board because of immigration restrictions. The former captain said they were stuck on the ship for 11 months, with food and other supplies running low. He said Grechushkin abandoned them without paying the wages or the debt he owed to the port.

He said the Beirut port supplied them with food out of pity.

At some point he sold some of the fuel and used the cash to hire lawyers, who got the crew released on compassionate grounds in 2014. The application to the court emphasized “the imminent danger the crew was facing given the ‘dangerous’ nature of the cargo,” the lawyers wrote in a 2015 article published by shiparrested.com, a website providing information on ship arrests and releases.

The cargo was transferred to a port warehouse only after the crew disembarked and headed back to Ukraine in 2014, Prokoshev said. It remained there ever since -- until it detonated on Tuesday.

According to the captain, the ship sank several years after they left. It had a hole in the hull, and the crew, while on it, had to regularly pump water out to keep it afloat. But Charalambos Manoli, the Cypriot businessman who owned the ship before Grechushkin bought it, claims the vessel remained docked in Beirut and was destroyed in the blast on Tuesday; he says he saw the wreckage in the photos of the destroyed port.

The blast has raised outrage in Lebanon against authorities who allowed the dangerous substance to be stored for years. Prokoshev sympathizes with them.

“It’s very bad that people died; they had nothing to do with it. And I realized that it’s the government of Lebanon that brought about this situation,” he said.

___

Associated Press writers Jim Heintz in Moscow, Menelaos Hadjicostis in Nicosia, Cyprus, and Tom Bowker in Maputo, Mozambique, contributed to this report.

The Beirut Blast Is Lebanon’s Chernobyl
Negligence and corruption have caused a devastating disaster.
BY OZ KATERJI | AUGUST 5, 2020, 4:37 PM
A Lebanese couple inspect the damage to their house in an area overlooking the destroyed Beirut Port on Aug. 5, in the aftermath of a pair of massive explosions in the Lebanese capital. JOSEPH EID/AFP VIA GETTY IMAGES

Beirut Gov. Marwan Abboud broke down in tears as he spoke to reporters on Tuesday evening while searching through the strewn rubble of Beirut’s destroyed sea port for the remains of missing firefighters.

“It’s a national catastrophe,” he said, comparing the devastation in the aftermath of the explosions to Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the bombings, before breaking down in tears.

But there is a more fitting nuclear metaphor for what shook Beirut: the Chernobyl meltdown. Tuesday’s warehouse blast does not seem to have been a product of conflict or an act of deliberate violence. Instead, like the Soviet disaster, it is the work of gross incompetence, endemic corruption, and negligence—and its impact will spread far beyond the initial explosion.

Beirut has been declared a disaster zone by Lebanese authorities following two blasts that tore through the city just after 6 p.m. on Tuesday. At the time of publishing, at least 135 people have been killed and thousands injured, and social media networks are flooded with the images of missing loved ones still unaccounted for.

The immediate economic impact is devastating. Between 250,000 and 300,000 people have been left homeless—roughly 10 percent of the city’s population.
Between 250,000 and 300,000 people have been left homeless—roughly 10 percent of the city’s population. Thousands of people need treatment at hospitals already crammed full of COVID-19 victims. The property destruction is estimated at $3 billion.

That’s a debilitating burden in a country where most people are struggling just to find the money to get by already. Even before the blasts, Lebanon was already at a breaking point. A refugee crisis from the war in neighboring Syria is almost entering its 10th year, with Lebanon already struggling to meet the aid requirements of the 30 percent of its population that has been displaced from the war in Syria.

But it is not just refugees struggling to meet their needs, with the World Food Program recording that nearly half the Lebanese population was struggling to meet basic food needs. Speaking to the Telegraph in June, Martin Keulertz, an assistant professor at the American University of Beirut, said: “By the end of the year, we will see 75 percent of the population on food handouts, but the question is whether there will be food to hand out.”

The pandemic had already brought Lebanese hospitals to their knees, and COVID-19 hit Lebanon during a period of unprecedented economic destitution, with the nation buckling under the weight of its own debt. Food prices had already risen by 247 percent, and with the blasts destroying tons of Lebanon’s remaining food stocks and wrecking a port vital to the nation’s infrastructure, the situation is set to deteriorate rapidly. Even before the explosions, some Lebanese protesters had gone as far as self-immolation.

Lebanon’s foreign minister, Nassif Hitti, had even resigned the day before the blasts, warning that “Lebanon today is sliding toward becoming a failed state.”

Given Lebanon’s history, many people, including U.S. President Donald Trump, leapt to the idea that terrorism was involved. Yet it’s not violence that has been poisoning the country in the last three decades. It’s corruption.


READ MORE

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While details are still emerging, the official story from Lebanese authorities is that a warehouse fire ignited a seized shipment of ammonium nitrate, impounded from a ship at the port in 2013 and seemingly left there ever since.

Ammonium nitrate has a place in the annals of terrorism, such as when the white nationalist terrorist Timothy McVeigh detonated 2 metric tons of the industrial chemical in Oklahoma City in 1995, killing 168 people and damaging 300 buildings.

But without McVeigh’s malice, just deadly negligence, 2,750 metric tons of ammonium nitrate—over a thousand times the amount he used—was allowed to pile up in a warehouse for more than six years in the heart of Beirut, seemingly “awaiting auction.”

Could the lure of a financial reward for officials have led to the dangerous stockpiling of highly explosive material in the heart of Beirut? Some Lebanese journalists have been asking that question following the discovery of documents relating to the seizure of the shipment.

A photo shared on social media, allegedly of the warehouse in question, shows workers in front of a warehouse packed with 1,000-kilogram bags of ammonium nitrate stamped with “Nitroprill HD,” which the arms control expert Jeffrey Lewis suggested may be a knockoff brand of Orica’s Nitropril, a mining explosive. The upper limit for storing Nitropril safely, according to the manufacturer, is 400 metric tons.

Whether corruption, negligence, or a combustible combination of both was responsible for this disaster, we may never truly know.

Whether corruption, negligence, or a combustible combination of both was responsible for this disaster, we may never truly know.

But the responsibility certainly doesn’t just lie with port workers who failed to do basic checks or took bribes to avoid handling problems. It falls on the people who put them there and who created a system that rotten. While the Lebanese civil war officially ended in 1990, most of the surviving warlords, who had escaped accountability for their decades of atrocities, simply swapped militia uniforms for suits and took control of what remained of Lebanon’s fragile postwar state.

The Lebanese ruling classes have bled the country dry with near total impunity for generations. Their corruption and greed have repeatedly plunged Lebanon into crisis, and that’s without even considering the rampant sectarianism of the political elite,. Regulatory failure and routine incompetence haunt the country.

From a sanitation crisis that has left mountains of rotting garbage choking the air to the tanking economy, hyperinflation and poverty are driving families to the brink of starvation, with dire warnings of a potential famine.

The existing crisis produced months of sustained protests against the Lebanese government, uniting Lebanon’s sects under the slogan “all of them means all of them,” a condemnation of the entire ruling class and a repudiation of the country’s sectarian political system.

Since the incident, Hassan Koraytem, the general manager of the port, and Badri Daher, the director-general of the Lebanese Customs Administration, have both declared that they warned about the dangers posed by the explosives and called for their removal.

Lebanese authorities have since announced that port officials responsible for storing and guarding the ammonium nitrate are being held under house arrest. The traditional “it wasn’t me” blame game of contemporary Lebanese politics is now playing out, as the former warlords line up to shift the accountability toward anyone but themselves.

How that plays out with a Lebanese population already pushed long past the point of potential insurrection remains unknown. But the hashtag “hang up the nooses” trending in Arabic on Twitter may cause Lebanon’s corrupt warlords to wonder whether their impunity is soon to be tested.

Chernobyl was not just the story of a disastrous testing accident in a Soviet nuclear power plant. It was the product of how endemic arrogance, negligence, careerism, and authoritarianism created a system that allowed that disaster. It was the Soviet Union in a microcosm, a deadly outcrop of decades of political failure and negligence that would ultimate help bring down the entire nation. The handful of local officials convicted and sentenced were guilty enough—but they weren’t the ultimate culprits.

Likewise, the story of the Beirut warehouse blasts is not one of a construction accident leading to a tragedy. It’s the tale of how a gang of warlords carved up a country and governed with prejudice, incompetence, and a total indifference to human suffering while robbing a helpless and defenseless population blind.

And, like Chernobyl, it is almost guaranteed that none of the men truly responsible for this catastrophe will ever face justice for their crimes.


Oz Katerji is a British-Lebanese freelance journalist focusing on conflict, human rights & the Middle East.

Lebanon turns 100 amid upheaval and crises

Facing potential bankruptcy and total collapse, many Lebanese mark the centennial feeling their nation has failed.

Demonstrations have taken place in Lebanon against multiples crises, including the deadly Beirut blast [Houssam Shbaro/Anadolu]

It was a century ago on September 1, 1920, that a French general, Henri Gouraud, stood on the porch of a Beirut palace surrounded by local politicians and religious leaders and declared the State of Greater Lebanon - the precursor of the modern state of Lebanon.

The current French president, Emmanuel Macron, is visiting Lebanon to mark the occasion, 100 years later. But the mood could not be more sombre.

Lebanon has been hit by a series of catastrophes, including a financial crash. On August 4, a massive explosion at Beirut's port killed at least 190 people and injured thousands - the culmination of decades of accumulated crises, endemic corruption, and mismanagement by an entrenched governing class.

Facing potential bankruptcy and total collapse, many Lebanese are marking the centennial with a feeling that their experiment as a nation has failed and questioning their willingness to stay in the crisis-riddled country.

"I am 53 years old and I don't feel I had one stable year in this country," said prominent Lebanese writer Alexandre Najjar.

Like others from his generation, Najjar lived through the 1975-1990 civil war, when Beirut's name became synonymous with hostages, car bombings and chaos.

He was a teenager when Israel invaded Beirut in the summer of 1982, imposing a suffocating siege of the capital for three months, and a young man when Christian militias turned their guns on each other in 1989. When former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri was assassinated in an enormous Beirut truck bombing in 2005, Najjar was in his late 30s.

The following year, Israel and Hezbollah engaged in a month-long war. In between, countless other conflicts, bouts of sectarian fighting and other disasters plagued one generation after another, leading to waves of Lebanese emigration.

But the August 4 explosion, says Najjar, was the "peak of a failed state" - proof that authorities cannot even provide basic public safety.

It was not supposed to be that way.
Model of pluralism

Following the fall of the Ottoman Empire after World War I, Lebanon fell under the French mandate, starting in 1920. France governed for 23 years until the country gained independence as the Lebanese Republic.

Home to 18 different religious sects, it was hailed as a model of pluralism and coexistence. The nation settled on an unwritten sectarian arrangement, initially seen as the guarantee of stability, but which many Lebanese now consider a curse: the president would always be Christian, the prime minister Sunni Muslim and the parliament speaker Shia Muslim, with other posts similarly divvied up.

In the 1950s, under pro-Western President Camille Chamoun, the economy flourished thanks to booming tourism and cash from oil-rich Arab nations. But his presidency ended with the outbreak of Lebanon's first civil war in 1958, which lasted for several months and saw US troops land to help Chamoun.

A Lebanese flag is pictured in the aftermath of the enormous explosion in Beirut's damaged port area [Hannah McKay/Reuters]

Lebanon saw its heyday in the 1960s and early '70s, when the country became a regional centre for the rich and famous who flew from around the world to gamble at the Casino Du Liban, or to attend concerts in the ancient northeastern city of Baalbek by international artists such as the Berlin Philharmonic, Soviet ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev, American jazz singer Ella Fitzgerald, as well as famous Arab singers like Egypt's Umm Kalthoum and Lebanon's own Fairouz.

Palestinian fighters during this time began launching attacks against Israel from Lebanese territory, splitting the Lebanese. Disaster struck again in 1975, with the start of the 15-year civil war, eventually pitting Lebanon's sects against each other.

That conflict killed nearly 150,000 people. Syrian troops moved in, and Israel invaded twice - once in 1978, then again in 1982, in an assault that forced late Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat and his fighters to leave Lebanon.

US interests were repeatedly attacked, most notably two bombings of the American embassy and the 1983 Marine barracks bombing in Beirut that killed 241 US service members, the deadliest attack on the Marines since the battle of Iwo Jima in 1945. On the same day, 58 French paratroopers were killed by a second attacker who struck their installation in Beirut.

The country also had two presidents and two prime ministers assassinated, in addition to dozens of other politicians, legislators, journalists and activists who were killed.

Hundreds of protesters injured as anger simmers in Beirut (3:20)

Rise of Hezbollah

Israel's 1982 invasion and the attacks on the Americans marked the rise of what later became the armed group Hezbollah.

After the civil war ended in 1990, the Iranian-backed Shia militia was the only one allowed to keep its weapons because it was fighting Israeli occupation forces in southern Lebanon.

When Israel withdrew from the south in 2000, Hezbollah kept its powerful fighting force, depicting itself as Lebanon's defender. It fought Israeli forces to a draw in 2006, and tensions remain high along the border.

Today, Hezbollah and its allies, led by President Michel Aoun, dominate Lebanese politics and control a majority in parliament.

But the Lebanese are deeply divided over Hezbollah. While many in the Shia community are fiercely loyal to the group, and many non-Shia sympathise with its anti-Israel stance, others increasingly see it as imposing Iran's will on the country.

Many civil war-era warlords today head political factions, holding onto posts for themselves or their families and controlling powerful local business interests. The factions pass out positions in government ministries and public institutions to followers or carve out business sectors for them, ensuring their backing.

Corruption has soared during the past two decades, and the sectarian-based patronage system has left Lebanon with crumbling infrastructure, a bloated public sector and one of the world's highest debt ratios, at 170 percent of gross domestic product (GDP) - topped by a governing class that amassed fortunes.

Last October, nationwide protests erupted against the worsening economy, and the financial juggling act that had been the basis of Lebanon's prosperity since 1990 collapsed into the most severe economic crisis of the country's modern history, made worse by the coronavirus pandemic.

"Lebanon is in its worst period over the past 100 years," said legislator Marwan Hamadeh. "We are in the worst stage, economically, politically and even when it comes to national unity."

"We are currently occupied by Iran and its missiles," added Hamadeh, who was seriously wounded in an assassination attempt in 2004 that he blames on Hezbollah.

Supporters of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri wave Lebanese flags outside the Lebanon Tribunal on August 18 [Pierre Crom/Getty Images]

Historian Johnny Mezher said to solve its problems, Lebanon could start by adopting a law that boosts national identity rather than loyalty to one's sect and helps ensure qualifications determine who gets state posts, rather than sectarian connections.

"Religious figures should be prevented from meddling in politics," he said.

Even after seven decades of Lebanese independence, France still wields strong influence on the tiny Mediterranean nation.

Two days after the port blast - with Lebanese leaders totally absent - Macron visited Beirut and toured one of the most heavily damaged neighbourhoods to a hero's welcome, with some chanting "Vive La France."

More than 60,000 signed a petition to place Lebanon under French mandate for 10 years, an idea Macron firmly dismissed. "It's up to you to write your history," he told the crowds.

On his return trip, Macron will plant a tree in Beirut on Tuesday to mark the centenary and meet with Lebanese officials to push them towards forming a government and enacting reforms.

"There is no doubt we were expecting the 100th anniversary to be different. We did not expect this year to be catastrophic to this level," said Najjar, who is a lawyer, poet and author of about 30 books in French, including one that tells the story of Beirut during the 20th century.

"There is still hope," he said. "We have hit rock bottom and things cannot get worse."

START HERE
How will Lebanon ever recover? | Start Here

SOURCE: AP NEWS AGENCY

Lebanon's prime minister and his entire cabinet have resigned following last week's deadly explosion in Beirut
Kelly McLaughlin

Firefighters spray water at a fire after an explosion was heard in Beirut, Lebanon August 4, 2020. REUTERS/Mohamed Azakir

Lebanon's Prime Minister Hassan Diab announced in a press conference on Monday that his government would resign from power following the explosion in Beirut.

His announcement came after several of his 20 cabinet members announced their own resignations.

The August 4 explosion in Beirut killed at least 160 people and injured 6,000 others.

Lebanon Prime Minister Hassan Diab has announced his cabinet's resignation on Monday over the deadly explosion in Beirut.

"I declare today the resignation of this government," he said at a press conference at the presidential palace on Monday, after several members of his 20-person cabinet announced their own resignations.

The resignation means that Lebanon will have to form a new cabinet, just months after forming Diab's earlier this year.

Ahead of Diab's announcement, several members of parliament also resigned, according to the Associated Press.

"Only God knows how many catastrophes they are hiding," Diab said at his press conference, the Washington Post reported. "That's why I have announced my resignation today. May Allah protect Lebanon. May Allah protect Lebanon. May Allah protect Lebanon."

According to the AP, Diab blamed the explosion on corruption that preceded him in office.

"They (the political class) should have been ashamed of themselves because their corruption is what has led to this disaster that had been hidden for seven years," he said.

The mass resignation comes after an August 4 explosion in Beirut that killed at least 160 people in injured another 6,000.

The explosion was fueled by thousands of tons of explosive ammonium nitrate, which had been improperly stored in a warehouse near the port for years. Business Insider's Ryan Pickrell previously reported that the explosion registered as a magnitude 3.3 earthquake.

Several people have been detained for questioning over the blast, including the head of Lebanon's customs department and the head of the port where the chemicals had been stored. Two former cabinet officials and the heads of the country's security agencies have also been questioned, government officials told AP.

Resignations in the government's cabinet started on Sunday when the information and environment ministers stepped down, and several others followed, Reuters reported. Diab is expected to announce the entire government would resign in his Monday press conference.

The explosion also led to violent protests, with demonstrators accusing the government of neglect leading up to the blast, which caused an estimated $10 billion to 15 billion in damage.

Lebanon's president and prime minister had received a report on July 20 — two weeks before the blast — in which state security officials warned government leaders of the dangers of storing chemicals in the port. An investigation into why nothing was done has been launched.

World leaders have pledged $300 million to help Lebanon rebuild following the explosion, but much of the funds are being withheld until government officials address protesters and set out plans for political and economic reform.

Many of Beirut's hospitals 'non-functional' following deadly blast, WHO warns

Issued on: 13/08/2020 - VIDEO AT THE END

People wearing face masks move a gurney at a damaged hospital following Tuesday's blast in Beirut, Lebanon August 5, 2020. © REUTERS/Mohamed Azakir

Text by:FRANCE 24Follow

The St. George Hospital where Soha Khalaf works as a nurse lies less than a mile from Beirut port. She had no time to recover from the enormous explosion that blasted over the city.

The ceiling crashed onto her head and tears streamed down her face, but she stuck to her task.

"People ran here yelling, 'Please, we need the ER.' But the ER was gone. And wherever I turned, I saw staff rushing down from other floors screaming," recalled Khalaf, assistant head nurse at the emergency room of Lebanon's oldest hospital.

Needles flew across the hall. Blood covered the floor. The lights went out.

Hundreds of people poured in from across the Lebanese capital after the Aug. 4 warehouse blast, which killed more than 170 people and demolished neighbourhoods.

"We just kept working, even as some of us bled, and we cried and cried."

With her colleagues, Khalaf stitched, intubated and bandaged victims on the pavement outside the ER. They stopped random cars to send patients to other hospitals, and relied on light from mobile phones as it got dark.

Across Beirut, doctors and nurses recounted a night of horror that shook up veteran medical workers in a city no stranger to explosions.

The aftermath of the blast has also raised fears for a healthcare system in tatters, already fighting a coronavirus outbreak which has seen 87 deaths and more than 7,100 cases since February.

Hospitals "non-functional"

More than half of Beirut healthcare facilities evaluated by the World Health Organisation are "non-functional" following last week's deadly port explosion, the agency said Wednesday.

Following an assessment of 55 clinics and health centres in the Lebanese capital, "we know now that just over 50 percent are non-functional", said WHO's regional emergency director Richard Brennan at a virtual press conference in Cairo.

Three major hospitals were non-functional and another three operating at well below normal capacity, he said.

Impact of financial crisis

Beirut's hospitals - which long attracted patients from around the region - have also been wrestling with the country's financial meltdown since late last year.

There are shortages in everything from dialysis equipment to syringes, with the state owing hospitals millions of dollars in arrears.

Now with hospitals turned into trauma centers and coronavirus cases still rising, some healthcare workers are asking: how can the system cope?

"The knockout"

On the night of the blast, hospitals used two months' worth of supplies, said Rona Halabi, spokeswoman for the International Committee of the Red Cross.

The explosion, which injured more than 6,000 people, knocked out three hospitals in Beirut and damaged 12 other facilities. Days later, pressure piled on thanks to hundreds of injuries at protests against Lebanon's leaders.

"These times are unparalleled to say the least," Halabi said, warning that the need for mental health care was also rising after scores of people suffered trauma.

"I have seen many explosions and a war. But I've never seen what I saw on August 4," said Khalaf, who has worked at St. George for 28 years.

The blast killed four nurses there. A few floors above, a doctor had delivered a baby as the building shook.

The next day, Khalaf and her friends returned to help clear rubble from the blast, which officials blamed on explosive material stored in unsafe conditions at the port.

When the shockwaves hit Naji Abi Rached's hospital all 17 elevators crashed. Staff had to carry some patients down eight flights of stairs. They could not evacuate patients in the COVID-19 ward.

Abi Rached, medical director at the nonprofit Lebanese Hospital Geitaoui, said the virus could now spread faster. With nearly a quarter of a million people homeless, the risk has grown. Lebanon recorded on Tuesday 300 new infections and seven deaths.

"This blast dealt the final blow, the knockout," he said.

Still, a week later, with the help of volunteers, the ER was running again. The dialysis center also opened, although with shattered windows.

For Beatrice Karam, a nephrologist who returned to Beirut after living abroad, the past week killed any hope for stability. Many of her friends felt the same, she said, warning of a looming exodus of doctors.

"It's like there was a blast inside of me too. And I had no feelings anymore, and I just want to leave."

(FRANCE 24 with AFP and REUTERS)

Lebanon outgoing PM warns of ‘dangerous chemicals’ in southern Zahrani oil facility


Tanker trucks filled with fuel offered by Iraq wait to empty their content at the oil refinery of Zahrani, near the southerm Lebanese city of Sidon (Saida) on August 20, 2020. (AFP)

Reuters

Published: 27 March ,2021:

Lebanon’s outgoing prime minister said on Friday that experts had found “dangerous chemicals” at a warehouse at the Zahrani oil installations in the south.

Hassan Diab said the country’s atomic energy authority identified the substances as “nuclear” after reviewing a report by German company Combi Lift, which Lebanon had tasked with clearing hazardous material at Beirut port.

The comments came nearly eight months after a stockpile of chemicals detonated in Beirut, killing nearly 200 people in one of the largest non-nuclear explosions on record. The ammonium nitrate went up in flames after being stored unsafely at the port for years.

A Combi Lift spokesman confirmed to Reuters that the firm was in talks with Lebanon over potential recovery projects in Tripoli and Zahrani refineries but said there were no concrete results yet.

“We don’t want to comment on possible finds,” the spokesman said.

Diab appealed for action, without elaborating.

Lebanon’s caretaker PM Diab says conscience is clear over Beirut port blast

But Lebanon’s oil directorate said the canisters, which totaled 1.2 kg (2.7 lb), were just used for research and would be transferred next week for safe storage.

“We assure the Lebanese...there is no reason for any fear,” the directorate said.

Diab’s cabinet has served in a caretaker capacity since resigning over the devastation that last August’s explosion wreaked in much of the Lebanese capital, compounding an already acute financial crisis.

After Lebanon hired Combi Lift in the wake of the blast, the German firm said it had found 58 containers at Beirut port that posed a threat to the city. Some of it had been there for more than a decade.

The German ambassador to Beirut, Andreas Kindl, said this month the material were packed well but were still waiting to be shipped to Germany for disposal, as Lebanon had yet to make a nearly $2 million payment in the contract.

Combi Lift spokesman Malte Steinhoff said on Friday those containers remained in Beirut amid talks with the Lebanese authorities over financing.

“We...hope to find a solution this month,” he said.

Turning 100: Lebanon, a nation branded by upheaval, crises

By BASSEM MROUE 

1 of 12FILE - In this Oct. 24,1983 file photo, rescuers continue to probe the wreckage of the U.S. Marine barracks a day after a suicide truck bomb near Beirut airport, Lebanon. It was a century ago on Sept. 1, 1920, that a French general, Henri Gouraud, stood on the porch of the French residence in Beirut surrounded by local politicians and religious leaders and declared the State of Greater Lebanon - the precursor to the modern state of Lebanon. (AP Photo/Zouki, File)

BEIRUT (AP) — It was a century ago on Sept. 1, 1920, that a French general, Henri Gouraud, stood on the porch of a Beirut palace surrounded by local politicians and religious leaders and declared the State of Greater Lebanon — the precursor of the modern state of Lebanon.

The current French president, Emmanuel Macron, is visiting Lebanon to mark the occasion, 100 years later. But the mood could not be more somber.

Lebanon has been hit by a series of catastrophes, including a financial crash. On Aug. 4, a massive explosion at Beirut’s port killed at least 190 people and injured thousands — the culmination of decades of accumulated crises, endemic corruption and mismanagement by an entrenched ruling class.

Facing potential bankruptcy and total collapse, many Lebanese are marking the centennial with a feeling that their experiment as a nation has failed and questioning their willingness to stay in the crisis-riddled country.

“I am 53 years old and I don’t feel I had one stable year in this country,” said prominent Lebanese writer Alexandre Najjar.

Like others from his generation, Najjar lived through the 1975-1990 civil war, when Beirut’s name became synonymous with hostages, car bombings and chaos.

He was a teenager when Israel invaded Beirut in the summer of 1982, imposing a suffocating siege of the capital for three months, and a young man when Christian militias turned their guns on each other in 1989. When former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri was assassinated in a massive Beirut truck bombing in 2005, Najjar was in his late 30s.

The following year, Israel and Hezbollah engaged in a month-long war. In between, countless other conflicts, bouts of sectarian fighting and other disasters plagued one generation after another, leading to waves of Lebanese emigration.

But the Aug. 4 explosion, says Najjar, was the “peak of a failed state” — proof that authorities cannot even provide basic public safety.

It wasn’t supposed to be that way.

Following the fall of the Ottoman Empire after World War I, Lebanon fell under the French mandate, starting in 1920. France governed for 23 years until the country gained independence as the Lebanese Republic.

Home to 18 different religious sects, it was hailed as a model of pluralism and coexistence. The nation settled on an unwritten sectarian arrangement, initially seen as the guarantee of stability but which many Lebanese now consider a curse: the president would always be Christian, the prime minister Sunni Muslim and the parliament speaker Shiite Muslim, with other posts similarly divvied up.


In the 1950s, under pro-Western President Camille Chamoun, the economy flourished thanks to booming tourism and cash from oil-rich Arab nations. But his presidency ended with the outbreak of Lebanon’s first civil war in 1958, which lasted for several months and saw U.S. troops land to help Chamoun.

Lebanon saw its heyday in the 1960s and early 1970s, when the country became a regional center for the rich and famous who flew from around the world to gamble at the Casino Du Liban, or to attend concerts in the ancient northeastern city of Baalbek by international artists such as the Berlin Philharmonic, Soviet ballet dancer Rudolf Nureyev, American jazz singer Ella Fitzgerald, as well as famous Arab singers like Egypt’s Umm Kalthoum and Lebanon’s own Fairouz.

Palestinian militants during this time had begun launching attacks against Israel from Lebanese territory, splitting the Lebanese. Disaster struck again in 1975, with the start of the 15-year civil war, eventually pitting Lebanon’s sects against each other. That conflict killed nearly 150,000 people. Syrian troops moved in, and Israel invaded twice — once in 1978, then again in 1982, in an assault that forced late Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat and his fighters to leave Lebanon.

U.S. interests were repeatedly attacked, most notably two bombings of the American Embassy and the 1983 Marine barracks bombing in Beirut that killed 241 U.S. service members, the deadliest attack on the Marines since the battle of Iwo Jima in 1945. On the same day, 58 French paratroopers were killed by a second attacker who struck their installation in Beirut.

The country also had two presidents and two prime ministers assassinated, in addition to dozens of other politicians, legislators, journalists and activists who were killed.

Israel’s 1982 invasion and the attacks on the Americans marked the rise of what later became the militant group Hezbollah.

After the civil war ended in 1990, the Iranian-backed Shiite militia was the only one allowed to keep its weapons because it was fighting Israeli occupation forces in southern Lebanon. When Israel withdrew from the south in 2000, Hezbollah kept its powerful fighting force, depicting itself as Lebanon’s defender. It fought Israeli forces to a draw in 2006, and tensions remain high along the border.

Today, Hezbollah and its allies, led by President Michel Aoun, dominate Lebanese politics and control a majority in parliament.

But the Lebanese are deeply divided over Hezbollah. While many in the Shiite community are fiercely loyal to the group, and many non-Shiites sympathize with its anti-Israel stance, others increasingly see it as imposing Iran’s will on the country.

Many civil war-era warlords today head political factions, holding onto posts for themselves or their families and controlling powerful local business interests. The factions pass out positions in government ministries and public institutions to followers or carve out business sectors for them, ensuring their backing.

Corruption has soared over the past two decades, and the sectarian-based patronage system has left Lebanon with crumbling infrastructure, a bloated public sector and one of the world’s highest debt ratios, at 170% of GDP — topped by a ruling class that amassed fortunes.

Last October, nationwide protests erupted over the worsening economy, and the financial juggling act that had been the basis of Lebanon’s prosperity since 1990 collapsed into the most severe economic crisis of the country’s modern history, made worse by the coronavirus pandemic.

“Lebanon is in its worst period over the past 100 years,” said legislator Marwan Hamadeh. “We are in the worst stage, economically, politically and even when it comes to national unity.”

“We are currently occupied by Iran and its missiles,” added Hamadeh, who was seriously wounded in an assassination attempt in 2004 that he blames on Hezbollah.

Historian Johnny Mezher says that to solve its problems, Lebanon could start by adopting a law that boosts national identity rather than loyalty to one’s sect and helps ensure qualifications determine who gets state posts, rather than sectarian connections.

“Religious figures should be prevented from meddling in politics,” he said.

Even after seven decades of Lebanese independence, France still wields strong influence on the tiny Mediterranean nation.

Two days after the port blast — with Lebanese leaders totally absent — Macron visited Beirut and toured one of the most heavily damaged neighborhoods to a hero’s welcome, with some chanting “Vive La France.”

More than 60,000 signed a petition to place Lebanon under French mandate for 10 years, an idea Macron firmly dismissed. “It’s up to you to write your history,” he told the crowds.

On his return trip, Macron will plant a tree in Beirut on Tuesday to mark the centenary and meet with Lebanese officials to push them toward forming a government and enacting reforms.

“There is no doubt we were expecting the 100th anniversary to be different. We did not expect this year to be catastrophic to this level,” said Najjar, who is a lawyer, poet and author of about 30 books in French, including one that tells the story of Beirut during the 20th Century.

“There is still hope,” he said. “We have hit rock bottom and things cannot get worse.”

Blast destroyed landmark 19th century palace in Beirut

Broken glass and window frames lay on the floor of the Sursock Palace, heavily damaged after the explosion in the seaport of Beirut, Lebanon, Friday, Aug. 7, 2020. The level of destruction from the massive explosion at Beirut's port last week is ten times worse than what 15 years of civil war did. (AP Photo/Felipe Dana)


BEIRUT (AP) — The 160-year-old palace withstood two world wars, the fall of the Ottoman Empire, the French mandate and Lebanese independence. After the country’s 1975-1990 civil war, it took 20 years of careful restoration for the family to bring the palace back to its former glory.

“In a split second, everything was destroyed again,” says Roderick Sursock, owner of Beirut’s landmark Sursock Palace, one of the most storied buildings in the Lebanese capital.

He steps carefully over the collapsed ceilings, walking through rooms covered in dust, broken marble and crooked portraits of his ancestors hanging on the cracked walls. The ceilings of the top floor are all gone, and some of the walls have collapsed. The level of destruction from the massive explosion at Beirut’s port last week is 10 times worse than what 15 years of civil war did, he says.

A painting hangs on the wall of a heavily damaged room in the Sursock Palace after the explosion in the seaport of Beirut, Lebanon, Saturday, Aug. 8, 2020. The level of destruction from the massive explosion at Beirut's port last week is ten times worse than what 15 years of civil war did. (AP Photo/Felipe Dana)

More than 160 people were killed in the blast, around 6,000 were injured and thousands of residential buildings and offices were damaged. Several heritage buildings, traditional Lebanese homes, museums and art galleries have also sustained various degrees of damage.

The Sursock palace, built in 1860 in the heart of historical Beirut on a hill overlooking the now-obliterated port, is home to beautiful works of arts, Ottoman-era furniture, marble and paintings from Italy — collected by three long-lasting generations of the Sursock family.

The Greek Orthodox family, originally from the Byzantine capital, Constantinople — now Istanbul — settled in Beirut in 1714.

The three-story mansion has been a landmark in Beirut. With its spacious garden, it’s been the venue for countless weddings, cocktail parties and receptions over the years, and has been admired by tourists who visit the nearby Sursock museum.

The house in Beirut’s Christian quarter of Achrafieh is listed as a cultural heritage site, but Sursock said only the army has come to assess the damage in the neighborhood. So far, he’s had no luck reaching the Culture Ministry.

The palace is so damaged that it will require a long, expensive and delicate restoration, “as if rebuilding the house from scratch,” Sursock says.

Roderick Sursock stands in a heavily damaged room of the Sursock Palace, affected by the explosion in the seaport of Beirut, Lebanon, Saturday, Aug. 8, 2020. "In a split second, everything was destroyed again," said Sursock, owner of the charming Sursock Palace, one of the most prominent and well-known buildings in the Lebanese capital. (AP Photo/Felipe Dana)

A broken statue from the 19th century lays on the floor of the Sursock Palace, heavily damaged after the explosion in the seaport of Beirut, Lebanon, Saturday, Aug. 8, 2020. The Sursock palace, built in 1860 in the heart of historical Beirut on top of a hill overlooking the now-obliterated port, is home to beautiful works of arts, Ottoman-era furniture, marble and paintings from Italy — the result of more than three long-lasting generations of the Sursock family. (AP Photo/Felipe Dana)

Sursock has moved to a nearby pavilion in the palace gardens, but this has been his home for many years alongside his American wife, his 18-year-old daughter and his mother, Yvonne. He says the 98-year-old Lady Cochrane (born Sursock) had courageously stayed in Beirut during the 15 years of the civil war to defend the palace. His wife was just dismissed from hospital, as the blast was so powerful that the wave affected her lungs.

Sursock says there is no point in restoring the house now — at least not until the country fixes its political problems.

“We need a total change, the country is run by a gang of corrupt people,” he said angrily.

Despite his pain and the damage from last week’s blast, Sursock, who was born in Ireland, says he will stay in Lebanon, where he has lived his whole life and which he calls home.

But he desperately hopes for change.

“I hope there is going to be violence and revolution because something needs to break, we need to move on, we cannot stay as we are.”

UPDATE
Beirut explosion bares pitfalls of sending aid to Lebanon


Words are written by Lebanese citizens in front of the scene of Tuesday's explosion that hit the seaport of Beirut, Lebanon, Sunday, Aug. 9, 2020. Public fury over the massive explosion in Beirut took a new turn Saturday night as protesters stormed government institutions and clashed for hours with security forces, who responded with heavy volleys of tear gas and rubber bullets. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)

BEIRUT (AP) — Hospitals and schools, then shattered and bent water pipes, then the crater that once was Lebanon’s port.

The rebuilding needs of Lebanon are immense, but so is the question of how to ensure the millions of dollars promised in international aid is not diverted in a country notorious for missing money, invisible infrastructure projects and its refusal to open the books.

And the port — the epicenter of the explosion that shattered Beirut, the center of Lebanon’s import-based economy, and a source of graft so lucrative that Lebanon’s political factions were willing to divide its control so everyone could get a piece — sits at the heart of the fears.

Sunday’s international donor teleconference raised a total of 252.7 million euro ($298 million) in emergency aid, organizers said.

The conference was hosted by French President Emmanuel Macron, who was mobbed last week by tearful victims of the Beirut ammonium nitrate explosion begging him to ensure the corruption they blame for the blast that devastated the capital does not profit from its destruction. The French presidency said France contributed 30 million euros ($35 million).

The head of the International Monetary Fund, which wants an audit of the national bank before handing over any money, was clear: No money without changes to ensure ordinary Lebanese aren’t crushed by debt whose benefits they never see.

“Current and future generations of Lebanese must not be saddled with more debts than they can ever repay,” IMF head Kristalina Georgieva said during the conference. “Commitment to these reforms will unlock billions of dollars for the benefit of the Lebanese people.”

International leaders, government officials and international organization participated Sunday in the teleconference co-organized by France and the United Nations to bring emergency aid to Lebanon, including President Donald Trump.

International diplomacy usually calls for careful language. Rigged votes are “irregular.” The response to furious protests should be “measured.” Disappearing funds require “transparency.”

But Macron’s response to the crowd in Beirut and in a later speech there was unusually blunt: The aid “will not fall into corrupt hands” and Lebanon’s discredited government must change.

In the short-term, the aid streaming into Lebanon is purely for humanitarian emergencies and relatively easy to monitor. The U.S., France, Britain, Canada and Australia, among others, have been clear that it is going directly to trusted local aid groups like the Lebanese Red Cross or U.N. agencies.

“Our aid is absolutely not going to the government. Our aid is going to the people of Lebanon,” said John Barsa of USAID.

But actual rebuilding requires massive imports of supplies and equipment. The contracts and subcontracts have given Lebanon’s ruling elite its wealth and power, while leaving the country with crumbling roads, regular electricity cuts, trash that piles on the streets and intermittent water supplies.

“The level of infrastructure in Lebanon is directly linked today to the level of corruption,” said Neemat Frem, a prominent Lebanese businessman and independent member of parliament. “We badly need more dollars but I understand that the Lebanese state and its agencies are not competent.”








Lebanon has an accumulated debt of about $100 billion, for a population of just under 7 million people — 5 million Lebanese and 2 million Syrians and Palestinians, most of them refugees. Its electricity company, controlled like the port by multiple factions, posts losses of $1.5 billion a year, although Frem said most factories pay for their own generators because power is off more than it’s on.

“There’s grand theft Lebanon and there’s petty theft Lebanon. Petty theft Lebanon exists but that’s not what got the country in the hole we’re in,” said Nadim Houry, executive director of the Arab Reform Initiative.
Prior aid, Houry said, ended up as a tool in the hands of the political leaders, who kept their slice and doled out jobs and money to supporters.

Protesters, tired of the small indignities they endure to get through a day — 37% of people report needing to pay bribes, compared with 4% in neighboring Jordan, according to Transparency International — and the larger issue of a collapsing state, are going after both.

“The public is going to be incredibly distrustful of the way this is done, and I think rightly so,” said Frank Vogl, a co-founder of Transparency International and chairman for the Partnership for transparency Fund.

On Saturday, they seized offices of the Economy Ministry, hauling away files they said would show corruption around the sale and distribution of wheat. Lebanon’s wheat stockpile, stored next to the warehouse filled with ammonium nitrate, was destroyed in the explosion.

“We restored the economy ministry to the Lebanese people,” one man called out as they rifled through the desks.

Julien Courson, head of the Lebanon Transparency Association, said the country’s non-profits are forming a coalition to monitor how relief and aid money is spent. He estimated Lebanon loses $2 billion to corruption each year.

“The decision-makers and the public servants who are in charge of these files are still in their positions. Until now, we didn’t see any solution to the problem,” he said.

A first step would be an online clearinghouse for every contract linked to reconstruction, Courson said. And the first project has to be highly visible and spread the benefits widely, said Christiaan Poortman, board chairman of Infrastructure Transparency Initiative.

“That will help keeping some of the political stuff at a distance,” Poortman said. “Donors will have to be on top of this. The issue of procurement is always where lots of corruption takes place ... it needs to be done quickly, and there is always the temptation to not follow the rules and go ahead and do something where a lot of people are going to make a lot of money.”

Speaking at a news conference in which he conspicuously did not appear alongside Lebanese President Michel Aoun, Macron said he was approaching Lebanon with “the requirements of a friend who rushes to help, when times are hard, but not to give a blank check to systems that no longer have the trust of their people.”

___

Hinnant reported from Paris. AP writers Sarah El-Deeb in Beirut and Sylvie Corbet in Paris contributed.

Lebanon's descent into turmoil: assassinations, war, financial collapse


A man walks past posters depicting Lebanon's former Prime Minister Saad Al-Hariri in Beirut

Sun, May 8, 2022, 

BEIRUT (Reuters) - Lebanon holds an election on May 15 that could see a shift of power that sends shockwaves far beyond this small country squeezed between Syria and Israel.

Here is a timeline of the nation's recent history, from assassinations and war to a devastating explosion and economic meltdown.

2005

Lebanon's billionaire former premier Rafik al-Hariri is killed on Feb. 14 when a huge bomb explodes as his motorcade travels through Beirut; 21 others also die.

Mass demonstrations erupt blaming the assassination on Syria, which had deployed troops during Lebanon's 15-year civil war and kept them there after it ended in 1990.


Shi'ite allies of Damascus stage their own big rallies in support of Syria, but international pressure forces the troops to withdraw.

2006

In July, armed movement Hezbollah crosses the border into Israel, kidnaps two Israeli soldiers and kills others, sparking a five-week war. At least 1,200 people in Lebanon and 158 Israelis are killed.

After the war, tensions in Lebanon simmer over Hezbollah's arsenal. In November, Hezbollah and its allies quit the cabinet led by Western-backed Prime Minister Fouad Siniora and organise street protests against it.

Anti-Syria politician Pierre Gemayel is assassinated in November.

2007

Hezbollah and its allies maintain a sit-in protest in central Beirut against the Siniora government for the entire year. Their stated demand is veto power in the government.

2008

Wissam Eid, a police intelligence officer investigating the Hariri assassination, is killed by a car bomb in January.

In May, the government outlaws Hezbollah's telecom network. Hezbollah calls the government's move a declaration of war and takes control of mainly Muslim west Beirut in retaliation.

After mediation, rival leaders sign a deal in Qatar to end 18 months of political conflict.

2011

The government led by Hariri's son and political heir, Saad, is toppled when Hezbollah and its allies quit because of tensions over a U.N.-backed tribunal into the Rafik al-Hariri assassination.

2012

Hezbollah fighters deploy to Syria to aid President Bashar al-Assad's forces against a Sunni rebellion.

In October, a car bomb kills senior security official Wissam al-Hassan, whose intelligence service had arrested Michel Samaha, a pro-Syrian former minister charged with transporting Syrian-assembled bombs to wage attacks in Lebanon.

2017

Sunni regional superpower Saudi Arabia, increasingly frustrated with Hezbollah's expanding role in Lebanon, is accused of detaining Saad al-Hariri in Riyadh and forcing him to resign.

Both Riyadh and Hariri publicly deny this version of events, though French leader Emmanuel Macron later says Hariri was being held in Saudi Arabia.

2018

Lebanon holds its first parliamentary vote since 2009, after lawmakers repeatedly extended their four-year mandate, citing security concerns.

Hezbollah and allied groups and individuals win at least 69 of the 128 seats, consolidating their hold over the legislative branch.

2019

Despite a stagnant economy and slowing capital inflows, the government fails to enact reforms that might unlock foreign support, including cutting the state wage and pension bill.

In October, a government move to tax internet calls ignites mass cross-sectarian protests accusing the ruling elite of corruption and mismanagement.

Hariri quits on Oct. 29. The financial crisis accelerates. Depositors are frozen out of their savings amid a hard currency liquidity crunch and crashing currency.

2020

Hassan Diab, a little-known academic, becomes prime minister in January with backing from Hezbollah and its allies.

Lebanon defaults on its sovereign debt in March, the currency loses up to 80% of its value and poverty rates soar.

Talks with the International Monetary Fund flounder as the main parties and influential banks resist a financial recovery plan.

On Aug. 4, a vast quantity of ammonium nitrate explodes at Beirut port, killing more than 200 people, wounding 6,000 and devastating swathes of Beirut.

The Diab cabinet quits and Hariri is designated to form a new government but the parties remain at odds over portfolios.

A U.N.-backed tribunal convicts a Hezbollah member of conspiring to kill Rafik al-Hariri 15 years after his death.

2021

The economic meltdown deepens. Hariri abandons his effort to form a government and trades blame with President Michel Aoun for the failure.

In August, the central bank declares it can no longer finance subsidies for fuel imports, prompting power outages and fuel shortages that lead to long queues and sporadic violence at filling stations.

A tanker explodes in the north, killing more than 20 people.

In September, after more than a year of rows over cabinet posts, a new cabinet is finally agreed led by Najib Mikati.

Its work is quickly derailed by tensions over the investigation into the Beirut port explosion. Hezbollah and its ally Amal demand the removal of investigating judge Tarek Bitar after he charges some of their allies.

The Shi'ite parties call a protest against the judge. Six of their followers are shot dead when violence erupts. Hezbollah blames the Lebanese Forces, a Christian party.

The probe into the port blast grinds to a halt, impeded by a flood of legal complaints against the judge by officials whom he has charged over the disaster.

Gulf states recall their ambassadors and Saudi Arabia bans all Lebanese imports in protest at comments by a pro-Hezbollah minister criticising Saudi Arabia over the war in Yemen.

2022

In January, the pound sinks to 34,000 against the dollar before being strengthened by central bank intervention.

The World Bank blasts the ruling class for "orchestrating" one of the world's worst national economic depressions due to their exploitative grip on resources.

In April, Lebanon reaches a draft agreement with the IMF for a possible $3 billion in support, dependent on Beirut enacting long-delayed reforms.

The ambassadors of Kuwait and Saudi Arabia return. Saudi Arabia and France announce a joint 30 million euro ($32 million) fund to boost health and other services in Lebanon.

Hariri announces he and his Future Movement will not run in a May parliamentary election.

($1 = 0.9471 euros)

(Writing by Tom Perry and William Maclean; Editing by Maya Gebeily, Mike Collett-White and Pravin Char)

Escaping slow death in Beirut, Lebanese embrace farm life

At 28, Thurayya left behind the Beirut neighbourhood where she was born and moved to the family farm, not because of environmental concerns but forced there by Lebanon's bruising crises.

© JOSEPH EID

Like many Lebanese, Thurayya has left the capital Beirut for life on the family farm to escape from an economic crisis, the covid pandemic and chronic power cuts in the city


© JOSEPH EID

Graphic designer Hassan Trad ploughs a field with his brother Abed in southern Lebanon where he has relocated to grow an agriculture business to supplement his salary

"Living in the city has become very miserable," she told AFP from the lush south Lebanon farmland planted with avocado trees that is now her home.

"The quiet violence of city life sucks you dry of energy, of money... It was just too much."

Lebanon's unprecedented economic crisis, the coronavirus pandemic and last year's massive and deadly explosion of chemical fertiliser at Beirut's port have dimmed the cosmopolitan appeal of the capital.

Many are turning their backs on urban life and heading for their ancestral towns and villages, where they can cut down on living costs and forge new connections with a long-forgotten agricultural inheritance.

In October, Thurayya moved to the two-story house built by her father in the south Lebanon village of Sinay.

She took the step only weeks after her Beirut landlord said she would quadruple the rent at a time when electricity generator bills and transportation costs were already spiralling beyond reach for most.


© JOSEPH EID

Experts say a long-standing trend towards rapid urbanisation in Lebanon seems to be slowing down partly due to diminishing job projects in major cities where the cost of living is 30 percent higher that in the countryside

"It didn't make sense for me to stay in Beirut," Thurayya said.

"It's pitch dark, there is garbage everywhere and you don't feel safe... it's hostile in its unfamiliarity."

- YouTube farming tips -

Now, when she's not working remotely for a non-profit group, Thurayya spends much of her time in her family's farmland, discovering how plants look when they need water and the feel of ripening fruit.

She has turned to YouTube to learn how to prune trees and pestered local farmers for tips on how to best tend to a plot she hopes to one day take over.

"We are about to plant the new season and that's what I'm really excited for," Thurayya said. "I want to follow the planting from seed to harvest and I want to be there for all of those steps."


© JOSEPH EID

A massive explosion of chemical fertiliser at the Beirut port killed more than 200 people and destroyed swathes of the Lebanese capital

In a country where no official census has been held since 1932, there is little data on the demographic shift to rural areas, which are largely underprivileged and underserved.

But a long-standing trend towards rapid urbanisation seems to be slowing partly due to diminishing job prospects in major cities, where the cost of living is 30 percent higher than in the countryside.

A spike last year in the number of construction permits outside Beirut suggest such a movement, according to Lebanon's Blominvest bank.

Information International, a consultancy firm, estimates that more than 55,000 people have relocated to rural areas.

UN-Habitat Lebanon said that some mayors and heads of unions of municipalities had also reported an increase in the number of people moving, although it said it had no data to verify or quantify these claims.

"The lack of rural development plans and the highly centralised nature of Lebanon are expected to ultimately deter a counter-urbanisation in the long run," said Tala Kammourieh of the agency's Urban Analysis and Policy Unit.


© -Lebanon is battling economic turmoil and the cash-strapped country has struggled to import enough fuel oil for electricity production

- 'Suffocation' of city life -

Another Beirut escapee, graphic designer Hassan Trad, was ploughing a craggy field near the southern village of Kfar Tibnit and said he now steers clear of the "suffocation" of city life.

"My return to the village is an escape from three crises," the 44-year-old said, scattering thyme seeds on a bed of soil.

He pointed to the country's economic collapse, the pandemic, and the so-called trash crisis that has long left festering piles of garbage strewn across the city.

Trad, a father-of-four who works remotely as a freelancer for a daily newspaper, started weaning away from the capital in 2016 but resettled full-time after Covid-19 and last year's portside blast.

Hassan said the cost of schooling his children is about half what it would be in the city but, more importantly, he can grow an agriculture business to supplement his salary.

"I took advantage of the crisis and grew closer to farming and working the land," he told AFP from one of his many plots. "I now have a deeper attachment to my village."

Writer and essayist Ibrahim Nehme, 35, who was severely wounded when the Beirut port blast ripped through his home, has sought solace in his family's north Lebanon village of Bechmizzine.

"An explosion that made me lose touch with my ground eventually led me to realise how much I am connected to my land," he wrote in a recent essay reflecting on the months he spent recovering there from his injuries.

In June, he left Beirut and rented a chalet by the sea, only a 20-minute drive away from his family's olive grove.

He is not yet ready to commit fully to village life but Nehme said he is growing to realise his role in safeguarding an agricultural legacy left to him by his forefathers.

"I am connected here, I am rooted," he said. "I have these olive trees, and one day I will have to take care of them."

ho/jmm/fz

AFP