Is Lebanon immune to the Arab spring?

Several crises during the past decade haven’t led to outright conflict in Syria’s neighbour.

The Lebanese are adept at living their lives normally while national and regional events simmer or rage. Lebanon is going about its business as usual, without notable crisis or conflict, and with members of the Lebanese disapora on holiday this Christmas filling the bars, restaurants and ski slopes.

But people are very politically aware and have been watching developments in the Middle East with a sharp eye over the past year. While the toppling of dictators in Tunisia and Egypt has been welcomed by all, the uprisings in neighbouring Syria have inspired a quieter and more uneasy mood.

Officially neutral with regard to Syria, Lebanon is nervous about the potential consequences that either a protracted civil war or a collapse of the Syrian government might cause in Lebanon. Along with Iran, Syria is the main patron of Hezbollah (the Shia militant group and political party in Lebanon), so its loss could have far-reaching effects on the balance of power here.

Despite this air of quiet worry, the more immediate effects of the unrest next door are economic. The streets are relatively empty of tourists from other countries. Visitors from Jordan and Iran usually travel to Lebanon by land through Syria, so tour operators have been trying to attract them back with cheaper flights. "There has been a general slowdown in economic activity, particularly in trade and tourism," says Alia Moubayed, senior economist (Middle East) at Barclays Capital. The first ten months of 2011 saw a 25 per cent drop in tourist arrivals compared to the same period in 2010.

International sanctions recently imposed on Syria are being felt in the Lebanese economy, because a third of Lebanon's trade is either with Syria or transported through Syria. Ahmad Fayyad, a trader at Beirut's wholesale fruit and vegetable market, tells me that "a kilo of lemons used to be 3,000 lira [US$2]. Now it's down to 2,000." Citrus fruits and apples are big exports to Syria, but only a small portion of Fayyad's produce is actually leaving Lebanon, and prices have dropped. Exports to Egypt, Libya and Iraq are also down, and produce to the Gulf is now mostly flown out. "There is fear," Fayyad says, "and it affects us in Lebanon."

Pressure point: Hezbollah

Another economic challenge stemming from the Syrian crisis is the scrutiny under which the Lebanese banking system is being placed. Although no abnormal increase in deposit rates has yet been noticed, there are rumours that Syrian money is pouring into Lebanese banks. Meanwhile, the Lebanese-Canadian Bank has been pursued by the US treasury, investigating allegations of international transfers on behalf of Hezbollah.

But Moubayed points out that "the Lebanese authorities have done well in terms of acting upon the international community's demands to investigate, and their measures seem to have gained credibility". Lebanese banks are taking even more measures than international regulators are asking for. Most banks are family-owned, so there is an incentive to keep them clean.

Politically, the climate of uncertainty is expressed in the Lebanese press. Newspapers supporting the "March 14" alliance (Sunni, Druze and Christian parties) fear that civil strife in Syria might spill over into Lebanon. They predict more strained Sunni-Shia relations, with Christians and Druze caught somewhere in the middle, and worry that a Hezbollah weakened by the loss of its Syrian backer may feel pushed towards an aggressive move. Media that favour the "March 8" bloc (Hezbollah and its Christian allies) follow the official Syrian line, blaming the uprisings on foreign intervention and Salafist extremists.

To some, the Arab spring brings back memories of the 2005 Cedar Revolution: following the assassination of the former prime minister Rafiq Hariri, a quarter of the Lebanese population took to the streets to demand an investigation into his death, with Syria as the main suspect. This massive movement led to the creation of the March 14 alliance.

However, rather than unifying the country against its powerful neighbour, Hariri's assassination polarised it more starkly. The March 8 alliance demonstrated in support of Syria, and the 2006 war between Hezbollah and Israel further divided the country, as Hezbollah was blamed for provoking Israel's disproportionate attacks on the whole country.

The anti-Syria demonstrations nevertheless led to international pressure on Syria to withdraw its troops from Lebanon, which it did. But the Syrian presence, built up over 30 years, has remained endemic in many Lebanese institutions and political parties. Most recently, Damascus was blamed by the Lebanese police and Human Rights Watch for organising abductions of Syrian dissidents on Lebanese soil. Roughly 5,000 Syrians have been registered as refugees in Lebanon since the political crisis in their country began last March, and there have been 13 to 15 reported abductions.

Nadim Shehadi of Chatham House takes a longer view and believes there is little to fear from instability in Syria: "Lebanon has everything to gain from the new political culture in the region." Hezbollah supported the uprisings in Tunisia, Egypt and Bahrain, so if Bashar al-Assad falls, it would only have to justify its stance on Syria to its own constituents and adapt to the changing situation.

Several crises over the past ten years could have led to outright conflict in Lebanon, but they didn't. The memory of the 1975-90 civil war is still fresh in the minds of most, and people are understandably reluctant to return to such a scenario. Perhaps for this reason alone, Lebanon is, as Shehadi says, "the most stable country in the region".

Lana Asfour is a freelance journalist based in London and Beirut.

Getty
Show Hide image

Let's face it: supporting Spurs is basically a form of charity

Now, for my biggest donation yet . . .

I gazed in awe at the new stadium, the future home of Spurs, wondering where my treasures will go. It is going to be one of the architectural wonders of the modern world (football stadia division), yet at the same time it seems ancient, archaic, a Roman ruin, very much like an amphitheatre I once saw in Croatia. It’s at the stage in a new construction when you can see all the bones and none of the flesh, with huge tiers soaring up into the sky. You can’t tell if it’s going or coming, a past perfect ruin or a perfect future model.

It has been so annoying at White Hart Lane this past year or so, having to walk round walkways and under awnings and dodge fences and hoardings, losing all sense of direction. Millions of pounds were being poured into what appeared to be a hole in the ground. The new stadium will replace part of one end of the present one, which was built in 1898. It has been hard not to be unaware of what’s going on, continually asking ourselves, as we take our seats: did the earth move for you?

Now, at long last, you can see what will be there, when it emerges from the scaffolding in another year. Awesome, of course. And, har, har, it will hold more people than Arsenal’s new home by 1,000 (61,000, as opposed to the puny Emirates, with only 60,000). At each home game, I am thinking about the future, wondering how my treasures will fare: will they be happy there?

No, I don’t mean Harry Kane, Danny Rose and Kyle Walker – local as well as national treasures. Not many Prem teams these days can boast quite as many English persons in their ranks. I mean my treasures, stuff wot I have been collecting these past 50 years.

About ten years ago, I went to a shareholders’ meeting at White Hart Lane when the embryonic plans for the new stadium were being announced. I stood up when questions were called for and asked the chairman, Daniel Levy, about having a museum in the new stadium. I told him that Man United had made £1m the previous year from their museum. Surely Spurs should make room for one in the brave new mega-stadium – to show off our long and proud history, delight the fans and all those interested in football history and make a few bob.

He mumbled something – fluent enough, as he did go to Cambridge – but gave nothing away, like the PM caught at Prime Minister’s Questions with an unexpected question.

But now it is going to happen. The people who are designing the museum are coming from Manchester to look at my treasures. They asked for a list but I said, “No chance.” I must have 2,000 items of Spurs memorabilia. I could be dead by the time I finish listing them. They’ll have to see them, in the flesh, and then they’ll be free to take away whatever they might consider worth having in the new museum.

I’m awfully kind that way, partly because I have always looked on supporting Spurs as a form of charity. You don’t expect any reward. Nor could you expect a great deal of pleasure, these past few decades, and certainly not the other day at Liverpool when they were shite. But you do want to help them, poor things.

I have been downsizing since my wife died, and since we sold our Loweswater house, and I’m now clearing out some of my treasures. I’ve donated a very rare Wordsworth book to Dove Cottage, five letters from Beatrix Potter to the Armitt Library in Ambleside, and handwritten Beatles lyrics to the British Library. If Beckham and I don’t get a knighthood in the next honours list, I will be spitting.

My Spurs stuff includes programmes going back to 1910, plus recent stuff like the Opus book, that monster publication, about the size of a black cab. Limited editions cost £8,000 a copy in 2007. I got mine free, as I did the introduction and loaned them photographs. I will be glad to get rid of it. It’s blocking the light in my room.

Perhaps, depending on what they want, and they might take nothing, I will ask for a small pourboire in return. Two free tickets in the new stadium. For life. Or longer . . . 

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 16 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The New Times