大象传媒

Two years ago Mounira Chaieb visited Lebanon and caught an cautiously optimistic mood among young people. Since this summer's war with Israel she's found there's a different feeling in the air

When I visited Lebanon towards the end of 2004 for the series Young in the Arab World, things looked very encouraging. There was relative peace and signs of real prosperity after a civil war that lasted over a decade tore the country apart and killed more than 100,000 people. Two years ago, the security situation in the country was stable, there was a functioning government and a sense of optimism. Many Lebanese were even referring to their country as "the only real democracy in the Arab world". It was also beginning to restore its reputation as the "Switzerland of the Middle East".

However, the dreams of Lebanon's population, especially its youth, have been shattered again by yet another war. Between July and August of this year, a war sparked by the kidnapping of two Israeli soldiers by the Islamic organisation Hezbollah, led to the killing of around 1,000 people and the displacement of over half a million.

During the war, my family and I thought of moving to another area, but decided to stay. Streets were empty, it was kind of sad Selim, Beirut

Selim, a young man from Beirut, says: "During the war, my family and I thought of moving to another area, but decided to stay. Streets were empty, it was kind of sad. Going home at the end of the day was depressing because I am young, but there is no place to go. Everywhere was closed, my friends couldn't leave their homes, so I spent two months without seeing my friends or my colleagues. My only way of communication was through the internet."

Despite everything, Selim says, he was not afraid because he was born during the civil war and is used to the voice of bombs. But this time it was too much for him. He says he has had enough of seeing his country "being destroyed".


But many of Lebanon's youth feel a sense of exasperation and they are not alone. In August, during the war, 大象传媒 World Service's interactive programme invited children from both Israel and Lebanon to contribute to the debate and talk to each other.

"It was fascinating how the hour panned out; at first, they talked movingly to each other about the fear they felt when they heard the sirens and the alarms. They definitely empathised with the other side." Says World Have Your Say Editor, Mark Sandell.

"But when asked how it was going to end, both groups reverted to type and blamed each other. By the end though they appreciated that they had things in common and one of the most breathtaking moments was when the father of two young Israeli children offered shelter to the family of one of our Lebanese teenagers. After an hour of talking to each other they at least understood each other better."

Dispirited about the prospects for peace, however, a new generation of young Lebanese are packing their bags. And joining the exodus are some of the country's brightest minds. Charli Hanna, a high-scoring, 18-year-old student, wanted to attend university in Beirut. But, as the bombs exploded around his father's farm in the Bekaa valley in the summer, he surfed the internet for other options. After some frantic queries, a school in Kentucky, USA offered him a scholarship. "It seemed the best option," he said.


Exodus is nothing new to the Lebanese, young or old. A vast diaspora, rooted in centuries-old traditions of seafaring and travel, is estimated at between four million and 15 million people. This latest brain drain, however, is more regrettable for the fact that, until the war, Beirut was busy consolidating its reputation as the most glamorous city in the Middle East.

Memories of the traumatic assassination of former Prime Minister Rafiq Hariri, in February 2005, were receding. Stylish restaurants and luxury hotels were popping up. Tourists from the oil-rich Gulf states, uneasy about holidaying in the West, were flooding in. The government predicted 1.2 million visitors this year - not bad in a country of less than four million.

Now the buzz is gone. "We have been pushed 15 years into the past," said Bassam Bouhabib, a young sales manager who has applied for Canadian citizenship. Raghad Midani, in her early twenties, said goodbye to friends who had fled for Saudi Arabia. "They have no jobs, no family, nothing over there," she said. "I hope it works out for them."

Not everyone was ready to leave, however. The American University of Beirut says 90% of students turned up for the resumed summer term. Some students, it seems, were transferring their studies abroad for a term and the university expects them to return in the spring. And the spirit of resilience is still alive among some. Yanan Najjar, a 22-year-old medical student, though sad and very angry about what happened to her country, said: "I just love this place so much. In Lebanon, everything is in Technicolor. Outside, the world seems black and white." She adds: "Nobody ever really leaves Lebanon, you feel this place very deeply inside you."

Those who remained at home are well schooled in living through war and have been offering a helping hand to those less familiar with it. Jamal Ghosn, a young man from Beirut, says: "During the war, young people who stayed behind got involved in helping move people to safer places. They also helped younger people understand the concept of war. The wartime solidarity is an example for the world. People put all their differences aside and helped each other pull through the crisis."

Mounira Chaieb is a presenter and producer of documentaries and features with service.
You can read more about her original series