some guy in lebanon

I’m tan – “How did you get so tan, Will?” You might ask – Well, dear reader, this is for three reasons:

1. I live at the eastern end of the Mediterranean. One can get a tan just by walking around
2. I spent Saturday at “Lazy B,” a wonderful little cabana-style resort south of Beirut.
3. I spent most of Sunday sitting in no-man’s-land at the Syrian border in the sun. For five hours. Just to be in Syria for forty five minutes.

I want to remark on this last point -  “Why did you go to Syria, Will?” Well, dear reader, it’s because my visa was going to expire and they changed the rules in Lebanon requiring an exit stamp to leave at the airport if you’re in your third month of a tourist visa. But I couldn’t get an exit stamp because my visa was going to expire in two days, so they told me ‘just go to Syria – you don’t need an exit stamp.’ Of course, going to Syria means waltzing into one of the most skeptical-of-Americans nation in the world – they purposefully make you wait forever if you’re American to dissuade you from coming back – or something, I’m not really quite sure (they fax the information to Damascus – who knows how long it sits next to a cup of coffee there). Luckily, they let me in after I got a mean tan – I had to be out of the country for “a few minutes” according to Lebanese authorities in order to renew my visa.

Unfortunately, I have renewed my tourist visa too many times, so they confiscated my passport on the way back into Lebanon, and I spent this morning at General Security sorting things out.

But, thankfully, this series of events brought to bare one of those keen little existential moments that sometimes come along and really force an expatriate to come to grips with their experience. This Sartre-ian moment was made extra poignant, I believe, because I am approaching (tomorrow) my eight month anniversary in Beirut, and will be returning to America in two weeks.

So before I go and jump the shark here with some shmrarmy expatriate psychological meandering (although I already have), let me illustrate the situation I faced this morning with the nice Lieutenant in charge of interrogating (that is to say, politely questioning and taking everything I had to say absolutely at face value… seriously) me:

Lieutenant: “What is it you’re doing in Lebanon.”

Me: “How much time do we have?”

Lieutenant: “All the time in the world.”

Me: “Well we’re going to need it…”

But then I drew a blank, as I always do when people ask me what I’m doing here. Because I didn’t know – and I said as much, although I did go through the logistics of it all – who I’d worked for, where I’d quit, etc etc. – I didn’t really think more of it until after things got sorted out and I was told I’d get my passport back tomorrow with the appropriate visa and got in a cab for home.

“What is it you’re doing in Lebanon.” Why am I here? Why is any expatriate in Lebanon, let alone the Middle East – citizens of this region aren’t ignorant; they know the type of press the Middle East gets in the West. They know Americans in particular think that Lebanon is sand dunes, camels and war (when Orlando Bloom lands near Tyre in the movie Kingdom of Heaven which is set during the crusades, he literally lands on rolling Suadi-style sand dunes, and is immediately challenged by a dark-skinned sword-waving mean-toned Arab to a fight to the death).

I admit I didn’t know much about Lebanon before I came, but I knew it wouldn’t be sand dunes and camels (there are neither in Lebanon as far as I can tell). I didn’t know about war, but I assumed it would be relatively safe, an assumption that turned out to be quite true. I knew that most pictures that accompany stories about Lebanon are of the bombed out Holiday Inn – cropped out of that picture are the Lebanese Canadian Bank Headquarters, the Intercontinental Phoenicia Hotel, the Sea, and a new high-rise development under construction.

And then it struck me, on the cab-ride home – Another man had already put the equation into words, and all I had to do was realize where I stood in that equation:

“And because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect.

To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict or blame their society’s ills on the West, know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy.
To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history, but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.” – Barack Obama, Inauguration Speech

When I heard these words five months ago, I and my peers were shocked at the simplicity yet profundity of the image – the statement it made, the weight that it carried, and the challenge it proposed.

Clearly Obama was directing this statement towards the Middle East, where corruption and deceit, so often supported directly through American aid, or indirectly through American acquiescence, is the status quo here, as is blaming the West for nearly everything. His words were straightforward yet poetic – understanding of the legacy of the past, yet pointing towards a future with different rules and different expectations.

Well good for Barack Obama – I read here that his speech writer is 27. I’m sure the kid has never been to the Middle East or the larger Muslim world, although obviously President Obama has.

And this gets me to my point – Sure, it’s nice that Obama said that. Bush said similar things (minus the imagery and skilled oration). Ameriacn foreign policy is supposed to be designed to change closed fists to open and welcoming hands, though we all know that isn’t true.

In fact, Obama and the State Department owes every American living in the Middle East who isn’t a soldier or arms dealer an enormous thank you.

For who will be there to shake unclenched fists? You’d best be sure that it will eventually be some member of the State Department – Eventually. But we – those of us who live here – we’re the ones that will be changing minds and extending hands, even as our State Department issues travel-warnings to places like Lebanon that are equivalent to:

“Traveling to Lebanon will result in your immediate death.”

So, President Obama, I would like to issue you a challenge, as you did five months ago to the tyrants, dictators and extremists of the world – don’t build bridges that you and your establishment secretly intend to blow up later, and likewise, don’t rebuild bridges you blew up in the past if you intend to do it agian.

To illustrate what I mean, consider the bridge being constructed on the Damascus highway in Lebanon that I past by on Saturday – It was blown up by the Israelis with American-made weapons in 2006 for the reason that “Hezbollah might use the bridge to send Israeli hostages to Syria” as if this sole bridge was the only passable transit to Syria, and its destruction was instead not obviously a part of an Israeli attempt to punish the Lebanese as a whole by destroying their infrastructure.

The lessons are obvious – The American government has to do more than just shake hands – That’s the easy part. Myself and the many Americans who live here are busy trying to get those fists to unclench:

• Lesson 1: I am here for the simple reason that I like shaking hands, and this is a part of the world where the West needs to be doing more hand-shaking. Our President said as much.
• Lesson 2: The minds that control clenched fists have long memories and short fuses. Rebuilding a bridge that your foreign policy and foreign aid were responsible for blowing up is not a proud moment for a nation.
• Lesson 3: Few foreigners who live in the Middle East have “tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation and emerged from that dark chapter strong and more united” – But all foreigners who live in the Middle East know that, though old hatreds may someday pass, lines of tribe will never dissolve, and that it will be private expatriate citizens, independent of government, that play the true role in “ushering in a new era of peace.”

For we are the ones that draw suspicion – we are the ones that take the risk to leave everything for foreign shores in a part of the world that our friends and family are convinced is “dangerous” – without our effort and our presence Obama’s words would ring hollow.

I believe that our reasons for leaving America and finding a new home in the Middle East are not so diverse – We knew, before President Obama said it, that we were doing more for our country and for peace with our physical presence here than the building of any bridge by the American government can accomplish.

Especially if that bridge was destroyed by American smart bombs, just three years ago.

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More Beirut Stories are coming soon.