The green line that during the civil war (1975-1990) divided Muslims and Christians in Beirut has disappeared to give way to an apparently more reconciled city, but where sectarianism continues to condition municipal and state politics, in a country that is organizing itself. politically and socially through the distribution of powers between religious groups.
The greatest distinctions are made by sectarian elites, who weaken public institutions through the control and administration of more than 60% of resources and basic services. Dependency is absolute in the capital of a country like Lebanon, economically failed, with decades of corruption behind it and an abysmal public debt. This means that in Beirut access to services such as gas, electricity or health care can only belong to those who participate in the game and leaves the rest in precarious conditions.
The Dahiye neighborhood (literally, “suburbs”), mostly Shia and poor, is this “rest.” In this area where Palestinian refugee camps have been made – scenes of massacres during the Israeli occupation in 1982 – those who fled from the north of Beirut during the civil war and those who came from the south of the country after the invasion also live. of Israel (1978). Currently, this area is Hizbullah territory and where the Israeli drone attack took place on January 2 that killed Hamas' second-in-command, Al Aruri, and six other people from the organization.
Although Israel has not accepted any responsibility for the attack, everyone in the Lebanese capital believes it was its own doing. They have normalized this constant threat, but, after the bombing in which they have seen the sovereignty of their country violated, they fear a response from Hizbullah that would lead the country into a regional conflict. Although Hizbullah has exchanged missiles with Israel in southern Lebanon since October, it would be very different to see the city involved. An attack on the civilian population in Beirut would turn it into a war that practically no one seems to want, today. Although the drones and planes that fly through the skies of the suburbs already make them feel that, in some way, the war has already arrived.
This last sentiment, however, is not as widespread in central Beirut. Those who live closer to the sea do not seem to share the level of concern. Although they reject Israel, their unease over the escalation of the conflict is less. An acquaintance who lives next to the seafront commented that “in Beirut you can calmly have a coffee on one street while the one next to it is burning” and expressed how he believed that violence would continue in the south of the country. In fact, on the day of the bombing, the news arrived and what surprised him most was how absolutely nothing was happening in the center. The northern neighborhoods continued with their usual lifestyle; Full restaurants, fully functioning cocktail bars, cars driving normally and plenty of people on the street. The next day, they talked about an anecdote they had just remembered.
In the same way that the economic crisis – which has devalued the Lebanese lira by 98% and has caused inflation of more than 170% – has diverse effects on daily life in Beirut, the same goes for the threat of any other crisis. . Those who are paid in dollars from abroad, those who can pay for a generator to have electricity when the Government cuts it off, and those who only have it three hours a day all live in Beirut, but the impact of the danger they perceive is very different.
It is a saying that “Beirut has been rebuilt seven times” (eight, if we add the port explosion in 2020) and, although there is no doubt that the Lebanese are characterized by their resilience, reconstruction – like destruction – does not It affects everyone the same; even if they live in the same city.
