Large section of smoldering Beirut port silos collapses

By KAREEM CHEHAYEB

yesterday

1 of 6

This image from a video, shows smoke and dust rising from collapsing silos damaged during the August 2020 massive explosion in the port, in Beirut, Lebanon, Tuesday, Aug. 23, 2022. The ruins of the Beirut Port silos' northern block that withstood a devastating port explosion two years ago has collapsed. The smoldering structure fell over on Tuesday morning into a cloud of dust, leaving the southern block standing next to a pile of charred ruins. (AP Photo/Lujain Jo)


BEIRUT (AP) — Another significant section of the devastated Beirut Port silos collapsed on Tuesday morning in a cloud of dust. No injuries were reported — the area had been long evacuated — but the collapse was another painful reminder of the horrific August 2020 explosion.

The collapse left the silos’ southern part standing next to a pile of charred ruins. The northern block had already been slowly tipping over since the initial explosion two years ago but rapidly deteriorated after it caught fire over a month ago due to fermenting grains.

The 50 year old, 48 meter (157 feet) tall silos had withstood the force of the explosion on Aug. 4, 2020, effectively shielding the western part of Beirut from the blast that killed over 200 people, injured more than 6,000 and badly damaged entire neighborhoods.

Emmanuel Durand, a French civil engineer who volunteered for the government-commissioned team of experts, told The Associated Press that the speed of the tilt rapidly accelerated overnight on Monday, just hours before the collapse.

“There was a very sharp acceleration, which was expected,” Durand explained. “When this happens, you know it’s going to go.”

The country’s caretaker environment minister, Nasser Yassin, told Lebanese TV that the government will now look into how to ensure the southern block remains standing. He urged residents near the port to wear masks, and said experts would conduct air quality tests.

In April, the Lebanese government decided to demolish the silos, but suspended the decision following protests from families of the blast’s victims and survivors. They contend that the silos may contain evidence useful for the judicial probe, and that it should stand as a memorial for the 2020 tragedy.

In July, a fire broke out in the northern block of the silos due to the fermenting grains. Firefighters and Lebanese Army soldiers were unable to put it out and it smoldered for over a month. Officials had warned that the silo could collapse, but feared risking the lives of firefighters and soldiers who struggled to get too close to put out the blaze or drop containers of water from helicopters.

Survivors of the blast and residents near the port have told the AP that watching the fire from their homes and offices was like reliving the trauma from the port blast, which started with a fire in a warehouse near the silos that contained hundreds of tons of explosive ammonium nitrate, improperly stored there for years.

The environment and health ministries in late July issued instructions to residents living near the port to stay indoors in well-ventilated spaces.

Durand last month told the AP that the fire from the grains had sped up the speed of the tilt of the shredded silo and caused irreversible damage to its weak concrete foundation.

The structure has rapidly deteriorated ever since. In late July, part of the northern block collapsed for the first time. Days later on the second anniversary of the Beirut Port blast, roughly a fourth of the structure collapsed. On Sunday, the fire expanded to large sections of the silo.

Lebanese woman sees son for first time since blast two years ago

Maya Gebeily and Layla Bassam
Thu, August 4, 2022 

Nassma Cheaito, kisses the hand of her sister, Liliane who is mostly paralyzed from August 2020 port as she lies on hospital bed at the American University of Beirut Medical Center (AUBMC) in Beirut


By Maya Gebeily and Layla Bassam

(Reuters) - Lebanese mother Liliane Cheaito, stuck in the hospital since the Beirut blast two years ago, saw her son for the first time on Thursday following a court ruling in a protracted family dispute with her husband.

Cheaito has not left the American University of Beirut's Medical Center since August 4, 2020, when she was brought in bruised and bleeding after the enormous explosion at Beirut's port, which was caused by improperly stored chemicals.

She sustained severe damage to her frontal brain cortex that left her mostly paralyzed and unable to speak.

Two of her four sisters told Reuters that her husband, Hassan Ali Hodroj, had barred her from seeing their son Ali, now two years old, during her stay in the hospital. Liliane's family in 2020 filed a complaint with Shi'ite religious authorities seeking to compel Hodroj to allow the child to visit his injured mother.

Iqbal Cheaieb, a lawyer for Hodroj, said the father had kept Ali from the hospital because he was "scared" to let the boy see his mother in such a state. The couple remain married.

On Thursday, Ali visited Liliane at the hospital for the first time following an order by a Shi'ite court in Lebanon, where personal affairs including custody of children are determined by tribunals pertaining to the individual's sect.

"The court issued a final decision on Wednesday mandating weekly visits and our father and lawyer met with Mufti Ahmed Qabalan this morning," said Nawal Cheaito, Liliane's sister.

Qabalan is the top Shi'ite cleric in Lebanon.

A photo shared by the family showed Liliane in her hospital bed, extending her left hand to a curly-haired boy in a black shirt that the family identified as two-year-old Ali.

"She didn't take her eyes off of him for one second," Nawal told Reuters, saying she hoped the visits would boost Liliane's morale and speed up her recovery.

In July, Liliane uttered her first word in nearly two years – "mama" – understood by her siblings to be a cry for Ali.

Her sisters had earlier told Reuters that Liliane represented the "agony" of Lebanon's multiple crises: the devastating blast and its aftermath for grieving families, and the daily struggle of many citizens to survive as the country's economy has crumbled.

(Reporting by Maya Gebeily and Layla Bassam; editing by Marla Dickerson)

Explainer-Two years since Beirut blast, why has no top official been held to account?


A general view shows the Beirut silos damaged in the August 2020 port blast

Wed, August 3, 2022 

BEIRUT (Reuters) - Lebanon on Thursday marks the second anniversary of the Beirut port explosion which killed at least 215 people, wounded thousands and damaged swathes of the capital.

Despite the devastation wrought by the blast, one of the biggest non-nuclear explosions ever recorded, a judicial investigation has brought no senior official to account.

With the probe frozen for months, many Lebanese see this as an example of the impunity enjoyed by a ruling elite that has long avoided accountability for corruption and bad governance, including policies that led to a financial collapse.

Here is a recap of how the blast happened, and the obstacles that have paralysed the investigation.


WHAT HAPPENED?

The explosion just after 6 p.m. on August 4, 2020, resulted from the detonation of hundreds of tonnes of ammonium nitrate which ignited as a blaze tore through the warehouse where they were stored.

Originally bound for Mozambique aboard a Russian-leased ship, the chemicals had been at the port since 2013, when they were unloaded during an unscheduled stop to take on extra cargo.

The ship never left the port, becoming tangled in a legal dispute over unpaid port fees and ship defects.

No one ever came forward to claim the shipment.

The amount of ammonium nitrate that blew up was one fifth of the 2,754 tonnes unloaded in 2013, the FBI concluded, adding to suspicions that much of the cargo had gone missing.

The blast was so powerful it was felt 250 km away in Cyprus and sent a mushroom cloud over Beirut.

WHO KNEW ABOUT THE CHEMICALS?

Senior Lebanese officials, including President Michel Aoun and then-Prime Minister Hassan Diab, were aware of the cargo.

Aoun said shortly after the blast he had told security chiefs to "do what is necessary" after learning of the chemicals. Diab has said his conscience is clear.

Human Rights Watch said in a report last year that high-level security and government officials "foresaw the significant threat to life ... and tacitly accepted the risk of deaths occurring".

WHO HAS INVESTIGATED THE BLAST?

The justice minister appointed Judge Fadi Sawan head investigator shortly after the blast. Sawan charged three ex-ministers and Diab with negligence over the blast in December, 2020, but then hit strong political pushback.

A court removed him from the case in February, 2021 after two of the ex-ministers - Ali Hassan Khalil and Ghazi Zeitar - complained he had overstepped his powers.

Judge Tarek Bitar was appointed to replace Sawan. He sought to interrogate senior figures including Zeitar and Khalil, both of them members of Parliament Speaker Nabih Berri's Amal Movement and allies of the Iran-backed Hezbollah.

He also sought to question Major-General Abbas Ibrahim, head of the powerful General Security agency.

All have denied wrongdoing.

HOW HAS THE PROBE BEEN STYMIED?

All of the current and former officials Bitar has sought to question as suspects have resisted, arguing they have immunity or that he lacks authority to prosecute them.

This tussle has played out in the courts, in political life and on the streets.

Suspects swamped courts last year with more than two dozen legal cases seeking Bitar's removal over alleged bias and "grave mistakes", leading to several suspensions of the investigation.

The ex-ministers have said any cases against them should be heard by a special court for presidents and ministers. That court has never held a single official accountable, and it would pass control of the probe to ruling parties in parliament.

The probe has been in complete limbo since early 2022 due to the retirement of judges from a court that must rule on several complaints against Bitar before he can continue.

The finance minister - who is backed by Berri - has held off signing a decree appointing new judges, citing concerns with the sectarian balance of the bench.

WHAT DOES HEZBOLLAH THINK?

Bitar has not pursued any members of the heavily armed, Iran-backed Hezbollah group.

But Hezbollah campaigned fiercely against him last year as he sought to question its allies. One senior Hezbollah official sent Bitar a message warning that the group would "uproot" him.

An anti-Bitar protest called by Hezbollah and its allies last October escalated into deadly violence.

Hezbollah has accused the United States, which lists the group as a terrorist organisation, of meddling in the probe.

The U.S. ambassador has denied this.

Hezbollah dismissed accusations made at the time of the blast that it had stored arms at the port and says it had nothing to do with the blast. Its adversaries have long accused the group of controlling the port - something it also denies.

(Writing by Timour Azhari and Tom Perry, Editing by Angus MacSwan)

Groups ask UN to investigate Beirut's massive 2020 blast


FA rescue team surveys the site of a massive explosion in the port of Beirut, Lebanon, Aug. 7, 2020. A group of Lebanese and international organizations on Wednesday, Aug, 3, 2022, called on members of the U.N. Human Rights Council to send a fact-finding mission to investigate the Beirut Port blast two years ago. The call came as the domestic investigation has been stalled since December following legal challenges by charged officials against the judge leading the investigation into the Aug. 4, 2020 blast that killed nearly 220 and injured over 6,000.

AP Photo/Thibault Camus

BASSEM MROUE
Wed, August 3, 2022 

BEIRUT (AP) — Lebanese and international organizations Wednesday called on the U.N. Human Rights Council to send a fact-finding mission to investigate the Beirut port blast two years ago, as a domestic probe continues to stall.

The call by groups including Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International came as the Lebanese investigation has been stalled since December following legal challenges by charged and accused officials against the judge leading the investigation. The Aug. 4, 2020 blast killed nearly 220 people, injured over 6,000 and caused widespread damage in Beirut.

The call also came amid concerns that a large section of the port's giant grain silos, shredded by the massive explosion, might collapse days after a smaller part fell following a weekslong fire of fermented grain ignited by the scorching summer heat. Lebanese authorities closed a main road outside the port and directed traffic into internal streets as a precautionary measure.

The northern block of the silos has been slowly tilting for days since the other part collapsed Sunday.

A group of U.N. experts also called Wednesday for an international investigation saying “this tragedy marked one of the largest non-nuclear blasts in recent memory, yet the world has done nothing to find out why it happened.”

The organizations called on the U.N. rights council to put forward a resolution at the upcoming council session in September that would dispatch “without delay, an independent and impartial fact-finding mission” for the explosion.

They believe the mission would establish the facts surrounding the explosion, including the root causes, without political intervention. This would support the victims’ campaign for an effective investigation, they said. The groups want to establish state and individual responsibility and support justice for the victims.

Many have blamed the Lebanese government’s longtime corruption and mismanagement for the tragedy considered one of the largest non-nuclear explosions in history when hundreds of tons of highly explosive ammonium nitrate, a material used in fertilizers, detonated at the port.

Official correspondence between political, security and judicial officials reveal that many were aware about the hazardous substances unloaded in the port a decade ago without taking meaningful action to remove it.

After the blast, port, customs and legal documents revealed that the ammonium nitrate had been shipped to Lebanon in 2013 on a worn out Russian ship and stored improperly at a port warehouse ever since.

Tarek Bitar, the judge leading the Lebanese investigation, charged four former senior government officials with intentional killing and negligence that led to the deaths of dozens of people. He also charged several top security officials in the case.

None of them have been detained and two of those charged were re-elected to parliament in May.

An initial investigation by Human Rights Watch points to the potential involvement of foreign-owned companies, as well as senior political and security officials in Lebanon.

“It is now, more than ever, clear that the domestic investigation cannot deliver justice,” the groups said adding that the establishment of an international fact finding mission mandated by the U.N. Human Rights Council is “all the more urgent.”

The group said that previous calls by survivors of the explosion and families of the victims remain unanswered.

“As the Lebanese authorities continue to brazenly obstruct and delay the domestic investigation into the port explosion, an international investigation is the only way forward to ensure that justice is delivered,” said Diana Semaan, acting deputy director at Amnesty International.


On Beirut blast anniversary, Christian patriarch condemns govt



Thu, August 4, 2022

(Reuters) -Lebanon's top Christian cleric on Thursday denounced his country's government for failing to bring to justice those responsible for the Beirut port blast, marking the huge explosion's second anniversary with demands for accountability.

Bechara Boutros al-Rai, in a mass commemorating its victims, said that "God condemns those officials" who were stalling investigations that the government "has no right" to block.

The blast at the port, which killed at least 220 people and was recorded as one of the largest non-nuclear explosions in history, was caused by massive stores of ammonium nitrate kept at the site since 2013.

Two years on, no senior official has been held to account.

A domestic probe into the exact causes of the explosion - and who was responsible for or negligent regarding the ammonium nitrate's presence - has been stalled for more than six months.

There is still no unified official death toll. Two security sources told Reuters that their counts were at least 220 dead, with at least 20 more people unaccounted for, mostly Syrian nationals.

(Reporting by Maya Gebeily; Editing by Frank Jack Daniel and John Stonestreet)

Truth about Beirut port blast cannot be hidden, pope says


Pope Francis holds weekly general audience at the Vatican


Wed, August 3, 2022 

VATICAN CITY (Reuters) - Pope Francis said on Wednesday he hoped the people of Lebanon can be comforted by justice over the Beirut port blast that killed at least 215 people two years ago, saying "the truth can never be hidden".

Speaking at his weekly general audience, Francis noted that Thursday would be the second anniversary of the blast, which also wounded thousands of people and damaged large swathes of the capital.

"My thoughts go to the families of the victims of that disastrous event and to the dear Lebanese people. I pray so that each one can be consoled by faith and comforted by justice and by truth, which can never be hidden," he said.

Despite the devastation wrought by the blast, one of the biggest non-nuclear explosions ever recorded, a judicial investigation has brought no senior official to account.


With the probe frozen for months, many Lebanese see this as an example of the impunity enjoyed by a ruling elite that has long avoided accountability for corruption and bad governance, including policies that led to financial collapse.

Francis said he hoped that Lebanon, helped by the international community, could see a "renaissance" and be a land of peace and pluralism where members of different religions can live together in fraternity.

The pope was to have visited Lebanon in June but the trip was postponed, partly because of his health and partly because of the political situation in Lebanon.

(Reporting by Philip Pullella; Editing by Nick Macfie)

Beirut blast victim's parents wage lonely battle for justice

Layal Abou Rahal
Tue, August 2, 2022 


Paul and Tracy Naggear have lived in grief since the massive explosion that tore through the Lebanese capital in 2020 killed their three-year-old daughter, and their anger boils over the stalled investigation.

The August 4 mega-blast, blamed on a fire that ignited tonnes of ammonium nitrate fertiliser haphazardly stored for years at Beirut harbour, was one of the largest non-nuclear detonations ever recorded.

It destroyed thousands of homes, including the couple's apartment which overlooked the harbourside. Their daughter Alexandra was one of the youngest among the more than 200 people killed.

Failed attempts to hold accountable the state officials whose negligence is widely blamed for Lebanon's worst peacetime disaster have made Alexandra's death even more bitter.

"Our sadness is not the same, it keeps growing, because as time goes on, we miss Alexandra and feel her absence," said Tracy, 36.

"Although we can learn to live with sadness, there is an anguish and anger that continues to grow" in the absence of justice, she told AFP in the lead-up to the tragedy's second anniversary on Thursday.

Paul and Tracy moved out of Beirut and settled in the mountain town of Beit Mery, 10 kilometres (six miles) away following the blast.

The walls and shelves of their home are adorned with pictures of Alexandra.

Like hundreds of relatives of blast victims, they have received no answers from those at the top. And with investigations stalled, not a single official has been put on trial.

"In the beginning, we were hopeful" about the fight for justice, Tracy said. "But now we feel that we are alone."

- 'Exhausting' -

The port blast -- which was heard as far away as the island of Cyprus -- briefly reignited public anger against a ruling class that had already flared in a 2019 protest movement.

The demonstrations were drained of momentum by a severe economic crisis and the coronavirus pandemic, before the monster explosion presented a stark reminder of the negligence of the country's leaders.

In the wake of the disaster, Lebanon's ruling elite drew even more public ire by interfering in a local probe that aimed to pinpoint culpability.

The lead investigator, Tarek Bitar, who was chasing after some of the country's top brass, has been barred from proceeding by a series of lawsuits filed by political leaders since last year.

The lawsuits against Bitar are part of a wider campaign spearheaded by the Iran-backed Hezbollah movement which has called for his replacement, accusing him of bias.

"It is exhausting to live in a country that lacks justice," Paul said, a painting of his daughter raising a Lebanese flag during the 2019 protests on a shelf behind him.

"The criminals won't prosecute themselves," he added.

For the bereaved father, justice can only be served through an international fact-finding mission -- a demand of many relatives and rights groups.

The stalled domestic probe has been coupled with a decline in public mobilisation, as only relatives of blast victims still join demonstrations calling for accountability.

"Unfortunately, we feel as though people have either lost hope or become lazy," Paul said.
- 'Until death' -

Parliament member Melhem Khalaf, a former Beirut bar association head, has tried to fight the official impunity.

During his time at the helm of the Beirut bar, the association helped 1,200 families affected by the explosion to file lawsuits against the state.

But both domestic and external factors have hampered official investigations.

Khalaf said international powers have yet to provide Lebanon with satellite images or reports drafted by foreign experts who participated in preliminary investigations.

Back in Beit Mery, the living room is filled with pictures of Alexandra -- as well as with the belongings of Tracy's infant son Axel, who was born in March.

Tracy took Axel to a protest organised by victims' families last month.

"August 4 will be a big part of his life," Tracy said of her son.

"We will fight for truth and justice until the day we die. But if we die before, I would want Axel to carry on the cause."

lar/ho/aya/hc/fz

Part of Beirut silo complex collapses after fire, following devastating 2020 port blast

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Silos damaged in waterfront explosion that killed over 200 and injured thousands

The Associated Press · Posted: Jul 31, 2022 

Dust rises as part of Beirut's grain silos, damaged in the August 2020 port blast, collapses on Sunday. (Mohamed Azakir/Reuters)

A section of Beirut's massive port grain silos, shredded in the 2020 explosion, collapsed in a huge cloud of dust on Sunday after a weeks-long fire triggered by grains that had fermented and ignited in the summer heat.

The northern block of the silos collapsed after what sounded like an explosion, kicking up thick grey dust that enveloped the iconic structure and the port next to a residential area. It was not immediately clear if anyone was injured.

Assaad Haddad, the general director of the Port Silo, told The Associated Press that "everything is under control" but that the situation has not subsided yet. Minutes later, the dust settled and calm returned.

However, Youssef Mallah, from the Civil Defence department, said that other parts of the northern block of the silos were at risk and that other sections of the giant ruin could collapse.

A section of the silo complex along Beirut's waterfront is seen burning on Friday. The fire ignited on July 7 due to fermentation of remaining grain stocks paired with rising temperatures. (Joseph Eid/AFP/Getty Images)

The 50 year-old, 48-metre-tall giant silos withstood the force of the explosion two years ago, effectively shielding the western part of Beirut from the chemical blast that killed over 200 people, wounded more than 6,000 and badly damaged entire neighbourhoods.

In July, a fire broke out in the northern block of the silos due to the fermenting grains. Firefighters and Lebanese Army soldiers were unable to put it out and it smouldered for weeks, a nasty smell spreading around. The environment and health ministries last week issued instructions to residents living near the port to stay indoors in well-ventilated spaces.

Part of the silos is seen burning during the night of July 14. (Joseph Eid/AFP/Getty Images)

The fire and the dramatic sight of the smouldering, partially blackened silo revived the memories and in some cases, the trauma for the survivors of the gigantic explosion that tore through the port two years ago.

People rush indoors after collapse

Many rushed to close windows and return indoors after the collapse Sunday.

Emmanuel Durand, a French civil engineer who volunteered for the government-commissioned team of experts, told the AP that the northern block of the silo was already been tipping since the day of the 2020 blast, but the latest fire had weakened its frail structure, accelerating a possible collapse.

• ANALYSIS
  Beirut blast a 'knockout punch' after succession of crippling blows to Lebanon

• Thousands of Lebanese call for justice 1 year after massive explosion

When the fermenting grains ignited earlier in July, firefighters and Lebanese soldiers tried to put out the fire with water, but withdrew after the moisture made it worse. The Interior Ministry said over a week later that the fire had spread, after reaching some electric cables nearby.

The silos continued smoldering for weeks as the odour of fermented grain seeped into nearby neighbourhoods. Residents who had survived the 2020 explosion said the fire and the smell reminded them of their trauma. The environment and health ministries last week instructed residents living near the port to stay indoors in well-ventilated spaces.

The Lebanese Red Cross distributed K-N95 masks to those living nearby, and officials ordered firefighters and port workers to stay away from the immediate area near the silos.

Engineer says collapse was inevitable 

Emmanuel Durand, a French civil engineer who volunteered for the government-commissioned team of experts, told the AP earlier in July that the northern block of the silo had been slowing tilting over time but that the recent fire accelerated the rate and caused irreversible damage to the already weakened structure.

Here's a view of Beirut's badly damaged waterfront and the still-intact side of the silo complex as part of it continued to smoulder last Thursday, a week after flames were extinguished. (Hussein Malla/The Associated Press)

Durand been monitoring the silos from thousands of kilometres away using data produced by sensors he installed over a year ago, and updating a team of Lebanese government and security officials on the developments in a WhatsApp group. In several reports, he warned that the northern block could collapse at any moment.

Last April, the Lebanese government decided to demolish the silos, but suspended the decision following protests from families of the blast's victims and survivors. They contend that the silos may contain evidence useful for the judicial probe, and that it should stand as a memorial for the tragic incident.

The Lebanese probe has revealed that senior government and security officials knew about the dangerous material stored at the port, though no officials have been convicted thus far. The implicated officials subsequently brought legal challenges against the judge leading the probe, which has left the investigation suspended since December.

Beirut Silo Collapses, Reviving Trauma Ahead Of Blast Anniversary


By Issam Abdallah, Yara Abi Nader, Laila Bassam and Timour Azhari
07/31/22

A woman uses her phone near the partially-collapsed Beirut grain silos, damaged in the August 2020 port blast, in Beirut Lebanon July 31, 2022.

 Photo: Reuters / MOHAMED AZAKIR

Part of the grain silos at Beirut Port collapsed on Sunday just days before the second anniversary of the massive explosion that damaged them, sending a cloud of dust over the capital and reviving traumatic memories of the blast that killed more than 215 people.

There were no immediate reports of injuries.

Lebanese officials warned last week that part of the silos - a towering reminder of the catastrophic Aug. 4, 2020 explosion - could collapse after the northern portion began tilting at an accelerated rate.

"It was the same feeling as when the blast happened, we remembered the explosion," said Tarek Hussein, a resident of nearby Karantina area, who was out buying groceries with his son when the collapse happened. "A few big pieces fell and my son got scared when he saw it," he said.


A fire had been smoldering in the silos for several weeks which officials said was the result of summer heat igniting fermenting grains that have been left rotting inside since the explosion.

The 2020 blast was caused by ammonium nitrate unsafely stored at the port since 2013. It is widely seen by Lebanese as a symbol of corruption and bad governance by a ruling elite that has also steered the country into a devastating financial collapse.

One of the most powerful non-nuclear blasts on record, the explosion wounded some 6,000 people and shattered swathes of Beirut, leaving tens of thousands of people homeless.

Ali Hamie, the minister of transport and public works in the caretaker government, told Reuters he feared more parts of the silos could collapse imminently.

Environment Minister Nasser Yassin said that while the authorities did not know if other parts of the silos would fall, the southern part was more stable.

The fire at the silos, glowing orange at night inside a port that still resembles a disaster zone, had put many Beirut residents on edge for weeks.

'REMOVING TRACES' OF AUG. 4

There has been controversy over what do to with the damaged silos.

The government took a decision in April to destroy them, angering victims' families who wanted them left to preserve the memory of the blast. Parliament last week failed to adopt a law that would have protected them from demolition.

Citizens' hopes that there will be accountability for the 2020 blast have dimmed as the investigating judge has faced high-level political resistance, including legal complaints lodged by senior officials he has sought to interrogate.

Prime Minister-designate Najib Mikati has said he rejects any interference in the probe and wants it to run its course.

However, reflecting mistrust of authorities, many people have said they believed the fire was started intentionally or deliberately not been contained.

Divina Abojaoude, an engineer and member of a committee representing the families of victims, residents and experts, said the silos did not have to fall.

"They were tilting gradually and needed support, and our whole goal was to get them supported," she told Reuters.

"The fire was natural and sped things up. If the government wanted to, they could have contained the fire and reduced it, but we have suspicions they wanted the silos to collapse."

Reuters could not immediately reach government officials to respond to the accusation that the fire could have been contained.

Earlier this month, the economy minister cited difficulties in extinguishing the fire, including the risk of the silos being knocked over or the blaze spreading as a result of air pressure generated by army helicopters.

Fadi Hussein, a Karantina resident, said he believed the collapse was intentional to remove "any trace of Aug. 4".

"We are not worried for ourselves, but for our children, from the pollution," resulting from the silos' collapse, he said, noting that power cuts in the country meant he was unable to even turn on a fan at home to reduce the impact of the dust.

(Writing by Nayera Abdallah and Tom PerryEditing by Hugh Lawson, Nick Macfie and Frances Kerry)

Lebanon: LGBTQ+ community says crackdown is endangering members

After Covid-19, economic collapse and the Beirut port explosion, the LGBTQ+ community finds itself newly targeted

The LGBTQ+ community is concerned at the scale of recent official hostility (AFP)

By Clément Gibon 

in Beirut, Lebanon
Published date: 10 July 2022 

Sitting on the balcony of his apartment in the Achrafieh neighbourhood of Beirut, Kareem, a 23-year-old filmmaker who identifies as queer, reflects on the latest developments targeting his community in Lebanon.

“As a Syrian and queer person, every time I pass a military base, I wonder what would happen if they arrested me,” he tells Middle East Eye, asking for his surname not to be used over fears for his security. “Last week, no fewer than nine Syrians were arrested in Beirut and Saida, and other places in Lebanon, on the basis of expired residency." It's little wonder he's concerned at being singled out, and that's before taking into account "the increase in measures against LGBTQ+ people in the country".

Kareem arrived in Lebanon in 2016 from his village in Sweida, southwestern Syria, with a scholarship to begin his studies in television and film at the Lebanese American University.

Looking out of the window, he describes how Lebanon's LGBTQ+ community has been impacted by a three-pronged crisis over the past three years: the Covid-19 pandemic, the country's economic collapse, and the Beirut port explosion in 2020 have created a housing crisis for the community, and left many without jobs.

“In Beirut, I learned to surround myself with people who accept me for who I am," he says. "It's part of the process of self-acceptance. However, the number of safe spaces we used to have has diminished considerably.


"The 4 August explosion in Beirut completely destroyed neighbourhoods that included safe places like coffee shops and bars, such as Riwaq, Kalei or Tota," he says, referring to the huge blast at the capital's port that left more than 200 people dead, and devastated some of the city's most trendsetting areas.

"Now they have been rebuilt and I can meet my friends again," he says, but adds that many LGBTQ+ people lost their homes in the explosion.

Riwaq, an LGBTQ+ friendly restaurant in Beirut's Geitawi district

 (MEE/Clément Gibon)

"Some activists from the community organised fundraisers to help people from the LGBTQ+ community to restore their homes," he says.

"However, the aid wasn’t enough, as a lot of people were also suffering from mental health issues as a result of the blast. Aid was also not enough to address all the needs of the community.”

'Contrary to the habits and customs of our society'

In its latest report on the situation facing the LGBTQ+ community in Lebanon, Oxfam determined that housing was one of their main challenges, with the community facing increased exposure to violence in their current living spaces and experiencing an urgent need for shelter.

The report found that as a result of the three-pronged crisis, 70 percent of LGBTQ+ respondents said they had lost their jobs, making meeting even their most basic needs increasingly complicated.

The deterioration in their economic status and loss of safe spaces have had a significant impact on the mental health of the LGBTQ+ community, ranging from suicidal thoughts to health risk behaviours related to coping mechanisms.

It was in this vulnerable context that Lebanon's outgoing interior minister, Bassam Mawlawi, sent a letter on 25 June, during Pride Month, to the General Security Directorate and the General Directorate of Internal Security Forces (ISF), asking them to prevent “gatherings aimed at promoting sexual perversions”.

"This phenomenon is contrary to the habits and customs of our society" and religious principles, Mawlawi said, adding that "personal freedoms cannot be invoked".

For Tarek Zeidan, executive director of Helem, the first LGBTQ+ rights NGO in the Arab world (established in Beirut in 2001), the measure was vague, underhanded and calculated to divert attention from unpopular policies.

Activists at Helem in Beirut, a pioneer for LGBTQ+ rights in the Arab world (MEE/Clément Gibon)

“This is like the cherry on top: many people are afraid and angry at this barbaric, unnecessary and unbelievable aggression that is used against us," he tells MEE.

"What we have done has not changed; what has changed is the status quo in Lebanon, and that was the catalyst for this letter.

“In despotic, autocratic or militarised regimes, it is common to fabricate artificial morals or moral panics to divert public attention in times of great economic and social dysfunction,” Zeidan adds.

Events cancelled and postponed

Mawlawi's letter is especially controversial because it not only exceeds the rights granted to him as interior minister, but also violates both the Lebanese constitution - which guarantees freedom of expression - and treaties it has ratified, such as the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights.

The measure also contradicts the recommendations to guarantee the right to peaceful assembly and expression of LGBTQ+ people that Lebanon accepted at its Universal Periodic Review at the UN Human Rights Council in 2021.

'The situation is very risky for queers in Lebanon. Some people can’t even leave their homes because they don’t feel safe'

- Kareem, 23, a queer filmmaker

It is also seen as normalising hate speech towards the LGBTQ+ community. Following its publication, social networks have seen a wave of incitement to violence against the community by religious groups, individuals and even members of parliament.

Several events offering safe spaces to the LGBTQ+ community have been cancelled - like those planned by Haven for Artists, a feminist-cultural organisation promoting art and activism - or postponed for security reasons.

Kareem says these cancellations and suspensions have come at the very time when the community needs to come together.

“A panel discussion that I was planning to attend has been cancelled, probably because in this situation the event could risk becoming a target by the government to arrest people who attend it, whether they are queer or not," he says. "This is another strategy of the Lebanese government to divide and conquer, and spread anxiety.

“The situation is very risky for queers in Lebanon. Some people stated that they felt like they can’t even leave their homes because they don’t feel safe,” he adds.

Other types of intimidation include the vandalism of rainbow billboards, such as one installed by the group Beirut Pride that was destroyed by a Christian group called the Soldiers of God.

Judicial backing

While Lebanese authorities have regularly interfered with gender and sexuality human rights events, it is the scale and intensity of recent events that have concerned the LGBTQ+ community.

Nonetheless, the community has been successful in asserting some of its rights in recent years.

Lebanon to break up LGBTQ+ gatherings after pressure from religious groups

Read More »

Since 2009, no fewer than five court rulings have gone against Article 534, the penal code directly inherited from the French mandate that criminalises “unnatural sexual intercourse”.

Karim Nammour, a legal researcher, activist and member of The Legal Agenda, a Beirut-based non-profit research and advocacy organisation, described to MEE the progress brought by the most recent 2018 Mount Lebanon Misdemeanour Court of Appeal decision.

“The judiciary started issuing decisions stating that homosexuality is not against the order of nature. In the last couple of decisions it went further and stated that homosexuality is the exercise of a natural right and therefore should not be considered as a crime,” he says.

“We wish to see parliament follow the footsteps of the judiciary in promoting LGBTQ+ rights. A lot of members of parliament spoke about LGBTQ+ rights in their campaigns, and programmes. Now we wish to see them advocating for it in the parliament.

"If that doesn't work, the judiciary can continue to oppose article 534 and stop prosecuting people under it,” he adds.

The issue of LGBTQ+ rights has officially moved from being a side issue to a serious and politically divisive debate, Zeidan acknowledges.

“Our mainstreaming efforts are horizontal, with other people mobilising; not just vertical, with an already established entity or institutions. In many cases, our role is to co-create a new Lebanon, a new system, or whatever is being developed.”

Activism for the advancement of LGBTQ+ rights has also been steadily increasing, with different initiatives and a growing motivation within the community.

“It is important to know that our strength and security come from our numbers, and we are many," says Kareem. "We have to stand up and tell them that they have to go, not us.”

A world apart, Lebanon and Sri Lanka share economic collapse

By ZEINA KARAM and DAVID RISING

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Riot police stand guard as anti-government protesters try to remove a barbed-wire barrier to advance towards the government buildings during a protest against a slate of new proposed taxes, including a $6 monthly fee for using Whatsapp voice calls, in Beirut, Lebanon, Saturday, Oct. 19, 2019. The measures set a spark to long smoldering anger against the ruling class and months of mass protests. Irregular capital controls were put in place, cutting people off from their savings as the currency began to spiral. (AP Photo/Hassan Ammar, File)

BEIRUT (AP) — Lebanon and Sri Lanka may be a world apart, but they share a history of political turmoil and violence that led to the collapse of once-prosperous economies bedeviled by corruption, patronage, nepotism and incompetence.

The toxic combinations led to disaster for both: Currency collapse, shortages, triple-digit inflation and growing hunger. Snaking queues for gas. A decimated middle class. An exodus of professionals who might have helped rebuild.

There usually isn’t one moment that marks the catastrophic breaking point of an economic collapse, although telltale signs can be there for months — if not years.

When it happens, the hardship unleashed is all-consuming, transforming everyday life so profoundly that the country may never return to what it was.

Experts say a dozen countries — including Egypt, Tunisia, Sudan, Afghanistan and Pakistan — could suffer the same fate as Lebanon and Sri Lanka, as the post-pandemic recovery and war in Ukraine spark global food shortages and a surge in prices.

ROOTS OF CRISIS

The crises in Lebanon and Sri Lanka are rooted in decades of greed, corruption and conflict.

Both countries suffered a long civil war followed by a tenuous and rocky recovery, all the while dominated by corrupt warlords and family cliques that amassed enormous foreign debt and stubbornly held on to power.

Various popular uprisings in Lebanon have been unable to shake off a political class that has long used the country’s sectarian power-sharing system to perpetuate corruption and nepotism. Key decisions remain in the hands of political dynasties that gained power because of immense wealth or by commanding militias during the war.

Amid the factional rivalries, political paralysis and government dysfunction has worsened. As a result, Lebanon is one of the most backward Middle East countries in infrastructure and development, including extensive power cuts which persist 32 years after the civil war ended.

In Sri Lanka, the Rajapaksa family has monopolized politics in the island nation for decades. Even now, President Gotabaya Rajapaksa is still clinging to power, although the family dynasty around him has crumbled amid protests since April.

Experts say the current crises in both countries is of their own making, including a high level of foreign debt and little invested in development.

Moreover, both countries have suffered repeated bouts of instability and terrorist attacks that upended tourism, a mainstay of their economies. In Sri Lanka, Easter suicide bombings at churches and hotels killed more than 260 people in 2019.

Lebanon has suffered the consequences of neighboring Syria’s civil war, which flooded the country of 5 million with about 1 million refugees.

Both economies were then hit again with the onset of the coronavirus pandemic.

LEBANON PROTESTS

LEBANON PROTEST

SRI LANKA PLASTIC WASTE ON BEACHES AS SHIP CATCHES FIRE AND SINKS 

SRI LANKAN BUDDHIST NUN OVERCOME BY TEARGAS 

TIPPING POINTS

Lebanon’s crisis began in late 2019, after the government announced new proposed taxes, including a $6 monthly fee for using Whatsapp voice calls. The measures set a spark to long smoldering anger against the ruling class and months of mass protests. Irregular capital controls were put in place, cutting people off from their savings as the currency began to spiral.

In March 2020, Lebanon defaulted on paying back its massive debt, worth at the time about $90 billion or 170% of GDP — one of the highest in the world. In June 2021, with the currency having lost nearly 90% of its value, the World Bank said the crisis ranked as one of the worst the world has seen in more than 150 years.

In Sri Lanka, with the economy still fragile after the 2019 Easter bombings, Gotabaya pushed through the largest tax cuts in the country’s history. That sparked a quick backlash, with creditors downgrading the country’s ratings, blocking it from borrowing more money as foreign exchange reserves nosedived.

On the brink of bankruptcy, it has suspended payments on its foreign loans and introduced capital controls amid a severe shortage of foreign currency. The tax cuts recently were reversed.

Meanwhile the Sri Lankan rupee has weakened by nearly 80% to about 360 to $1, making the costs of imports even more prohibitive.

“Our economy has completely collapsed,” the prime minister said Wednesday.

UPENDED LIVES

Before this latest descent, both Lebanon and Sri Lanka had a middle-income population that allowed most people to live somewhat comfortably.

During the 1980s and 1990s, many Sri Lankans took jobs as domestic workers in Lebanese households. As Sri Lanka began its postwar recovery, they have been replaced by workers from Ethiopia, Nepal and the Philippines.

The recent crisis forced most Lebanese to give up that luxury, among others. Almost overnight, people found themselves with almost no access to their money, evaporated savings and worthless salaries. A month’s salary at minimum wage isn’t enough to buy 20 liters (5 1/4 gallons) of gasoline, or cover the bill for private generators that provide homes with a few hours of electricity a day.

At one point, severe shortages of fuel, cooking gas and oil led to fights over limited supplies – scenes now replicated in Sri Lanka. Cancer drugs are often out of stock. Earlier this year, the government even ran out of paper for new passports.

Tens of thousands of professionals, including doctors, nurses and pharmacists, have left the country in search of jobs.

Similarly, Sri Lanka is now almost without gasoline and faces an acute shortage of other fuels. Authorities have announced nationwide power cuts of up to four hours a day and asked state employees not to work on Fridays, except for those needed for essential services.

The U.N. World Food Program says nearly nine of 10 Sri Lankan families are skipping meals or otherwise skimping to stretch their food, while 3 million are getting emergency humanitarian aid.

Doctors have resorted to social media to seek critical supplies of equipment and medicine. Growing numbers of Sri Lankans want passports to go overseas to search for work.

OTHER DISASTERS

In addition to the political and financial turmoil, both countries have faced disasters that worsened their crises.

On Aug. 4, 2020, a catastrophic explosion s truck Beirut’s port, killing at least 216 people and wrecking large parts of the city. The blast, widely considered one of the largest non-nuclear explosions in history, was caused by the detonation of hundreds of tons of ammonium nitrate that was stored in a warehouse for years. The dangerous material was housed there apparently with the knowledge of senior politicians and security officials who did nothing about it.

There was widespread outrage at the traditional parties’ endemic corruption and mismanagement, which were widely blamed for the calamity.

Sri Lanka faced a disaster in early 2021, when a container ship carrying chemicals caught fire off the coast of the capital of Colombo. It burned for nearly two weeks before sinking while being towed to deeper waters.

The burning ship belched noxious fumes and spilled more than 1,500 tons of plastic pellets into the Indian Ocean, which were later found in dead dolphins and fish on the beaches.

Fishing was banned in the area because of health risks associated with the chemicals in the water, affecting the livelihoods of some 4,300 families, who still have not received compensation.

___

Rising reported from Bangkok. Associated Press writer Krishan Francis in Colombo, Sri Lanka, contributed.

LEBANON PORT AFTER EXPLOSION

Lebanon: The Sailing Shipwreck

The Lebanese people have persevered through endless hardships with an impenetrable dedication to their culture and community, but, with no light at the end of the tunnel, it is unclear how much more they can take.

The Lebanese people have proven their grit in the face of their attempted demise yet again. (AFP) - Photo Courtesy of BBC


by Inside Arabia | May 21, 2022

Picture a ship carrying a nation’s worth of passengers. A large boat sailing in the middle of an ocean of others, which suddenly starts taking significant blows. An incredible number of hits aggravate its condition until it’s wholly submerged. However, although underwater, the vessel has not yet sunk. It continues to slowly move forward, often stopping and never reaching the bottom –– all under the surface. Now think of Lebanon as that ship, with all its citizens aboard. And like this ship, Lebanon has taken on as much water as it can but refuses to sink to the seafloor. And like any item freefalling into the abyss of the deep blue, the bottom is out of sight.

How do you explain to a sailor from another ship that your captain has repeatedly attempted to throw you overboard? Or that your ship does not have permanent power or a freshwater source? Or that your captain has one day informed you that your life savings had just disappeared into thin air? Or that you survived the largest non-nuclear explosion coupled with a global pandemic and one of history’s worst-ever economic recessions, all at once? And that you protested for reforms, but were met with violence and oppression?

The Lebanese people are aboard a ship experiencing constant and imminent collision.

Our ship is unlike all other ships –– in the worst way possible. The Lebanese people are aboard what can only be described as a ship experiencing constant and imminent collision, extreme weather, damaged stability, engine breakdown, fire at sea –– and any other possible marine emergency you can imagine, orchestrated by a ruling class of warlords, bent on keeping a tight grasp of their captaincy.

Media outlets worldwide have, since early 2020, recorded dozens of headlines detailing the scuttling of our ship. Except we have not sunk, not yet, at least. A lawless vessel that continues to descend towards deeper waters piloted by commanders that refuse to abandon ship. Instead, they have turned into dead weight, planning on taking the ship and everyone down with them. So why has the ship not sunk?

This resistant force refusing to evacuate –– the only remaining fighting figure pulling away from the deepest depths of the sea –– is the very passengers. The Lebanese people have proven their grit in the face of their attempted demise yet again. For those in Lebanon, it is our hope-filled lungs that keep our ship from plummeting deeper. For the Lebanese diaspora, it is the lifelines that they continue to throw in an attempt to pull the ship back to the surface. The very essence of Lebanese society, culture, and identity is one of resilience, support, and togetherness –– an essence that lives on in the people all aboard this ship, flaring their hopes and dreams of a better Lebanon, like emergency beacons signaling rescue.

These beacons live among us –– they are us –– whenever able and often when unable too. This unparalleled desire to once again resurface has been passed on by generations –­– by the people, for the people –– no matter how desperate and dire the situation. I was lucky enough to witness and experience some of the purest forms of the Lebanese culture in what can only be described as the most desperate time for the Lebanese in history. I share these narratives and personal accounts to depict a small part of the reality on the ground.

This unparalleled desire to once again resurface has been passed on by generations.

The purest embodiment of this notion of offering something you don’t have is Adib (uncle in Arabic). Adib is a homeless old man stationed under a bridge outside my place of work. I greet him daily and often ask if he needs anything, but I always receive his usual answer, “I cannot ask for more than your daily greeting.” A few months later and mid-Ramadan, I was staffing a later shift and would finish around iftar time. One night I was leaving just as the call for prayer signaled iftar, and I passed by Adib, only to find him still fasting. I informed him that the call for prayer had started and that he could break his fast. He answered, saying he had heard it but noticed I was finishing at this exact time and that he was waiting to share his donated meal with me. And he did so for the entire month of Ramadan. Every day, this man would wait for me to come down before he broke his fast, waiting to see if I wanted to share his donated meal with him. A man with nothing, sharing everything.

[Prospects for Real Change are Still Dim in Lebanon]

[Lebanon Crisis Leaves the Elderly Particularly Vulnerable]

Adib was not alone in giving something he didn’t have. Sometime during 2020, gasoline shortages hit on the eve of what I thought would be one of the most important meetings of my lifetime. I spent the night looking for a gas station to fill my car that was already running on fumes, but to no avail. The morning of, I left the house two hours before my meeting in search of gas. After an hour of franticly searching, I found an open station, but with a very long queue. Thirty minutes before my meeting, my turn finally came. As I approached with less than a kilometer left on the dashboard, the gas jockey lifted the gas pump nozzle, turned it upside down, and pulled the latch – nothing came out. The station had run out of gas –– I panicked.

Noticing my desperation, the gas jockey looked at me and asked me to turn my car on and follow him. We drove down the street and parked near a residential building. He asked me to get a screwdriver and an empty water bottle. He rushed up to the building and fetched what seemed to be a gallon of gas he had stored away in anticipation of a shortage. He sliced the bottle in half, put the screwdriver halfway into the bottle to clamp the valve open, and poured in the whole gallon. In disbelief, I started thanking him and reached inside the car for my wallet. When I had returned, he was already on his bike, driving off. I ran after him, requesting to pay him for the gas, but he didn’t stop and simply yelled back, “The people for the people. Pass on the blessing and help whoever comes your way.” I was speechless. There was no rhyme or reason for his generosity. I am sure there was someone who probably needed the gas more than I did.


“The people for the people. Pass on the blessing and help whoever comes your way.”

This very notion of the “people for the people” was most evident after the Beirut Port Explosion on August 4, 2020, when life in Lebanon ceased to exist for nine seconds. The very day after the blast tore through Beirut, Lebanon’s entire population, from all corners of the country, poured into Beirut. Armed with brooms, gloves, hammers, nails, and broken hearts, everyone came to the rescue of their fellow citizens. Streets filled with hundreds of thousands of volunteers –– cleaning, rebuilding, and supporting residents of the affected areas. A basecamp combining people of all backgrounds and expertise came into existence: organizing the distribution of supplies, documenting the damage, and allocating donated resources and construction teams to rebuilding homes –– all without the help or presence of the government. One particular house we helped stood out among others to this day. My friends and I were assigned to a top-floor apartment that had been completely torn apart and belonged to an old man who had barely escaped death. We spent over twelve hours cleaning and repairing all the damage. As we were finishing, the old man asked to show me an old picture. It was an image of him and his high school best friend –– someone he thought I shared a bizarre resemblance with. It took him a few minutes before he remembered his name, which quickly filled my eyes with tears. The old man was pictured standing beside my late grandfather back in high school. “He must have sent you to help me; he knew I would need you,” he said to me, crying his heart out.

There are too many stories that depict this unparalleled solidarity and commitment to our community, which has become the very identity of our culture. And this has been proven to be the case far outside and beyond Lebanon’s borders, just as recently as in the parliamentary elections. The Lebanese government played its dirty games to discourage people from voting by making the process more difficult, changing polling stations without notice, or locating them too far to reach. But we knew how important it was to vote them out, and the Lebanese diaspora was nothing short of incredible. People drove insane distances in multiple countries to get to the polling stations, stood in voting lines for hours under scorching heat, and flew to other cities to vote –– all to stop the corruption from gaining a tighter grasp.


We are part of something bigger –– for the first time in a long time.

We almost don’t have a choice. No one in Lebanon can do it alone. No one can survive. Perhaps the very reason we’ve been able to stay standing –– or more like crawling –– is because of how much we support each other. We are part of something bigger –– for the first time in a long time. And everyone knows it.

Perhaps sinking is necessary to rid ourselves of the ruling anchors dragging on the bottom of the seabed and start anew. Instead, we continue to adapt and grasp for more air or jump overboard to other ships and throw more lifelines. Adapt till when? Where and when is our breaking point? How much worse can it get? And how much more can we take? The Lebanese culture and identity have proven their expandability in depth and breadth, but are we really helping ourselves? Perhaps our culture’s very resilient aspect is also the enabler of our demise. How have we allowed ourselves to continue to take on so much, and why?

I am no expert to provide these answers. Still, when you live in a country where 78 percent of the population now lives under the poverty line, yet unattended bread crates delivered outside shops and restaurants go untouched or stolen, something does not add up. The reality is that the Lebanese identity –––the very essence of our culture –– cannot be killed. It cannot die. You can kill people, but you cannot kill an idea or an identity. It lives on, and it will live on. And it will continue to do so far after being supportive becomes a choice instead of a necessity. One day our ship will resurface – beaten, bruised, damaged, and destroyed –– but never sunk. Until then, “We are all for each other, and for [our] homeland” [كلنا لبعض و للوطن].