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LEBANON – BEWITCHED, BEDAZZLED AND BEWILDERED

I have now been in Beirut over three months. The Lebanese tell me that the more you learn about this extraordinary country, the less you understand. So I fear that my first impressions could become more confused over the next three years.

The contrasts of Lebanon are a well worn cliché, but still hit the new arrival. The brash new souk (with every top British brand) alongside the pockmarked Holiday Inn, a remnant of the civil war. Hijabs and hotpants. A government in debt, but Mercedes on every corner. Excess and abstinence. Huge flat screen TVs and power cuts. The mental scars of civil war and occupation, and the physical scars of a capital that has more cosmetic plastic surgery than any other. Beirut has the swagger of Sydney, the panache of Paris, and the dynamism of Dubai. It creates the enchanting and inspiring mix that has so entranced outsiders for centuries. But it also makes your head spin.

Lebanon has too often found itself a prisoner of history and geography. The persecuted of the 20th century sought refuge here. So, for many, success in the 21st century is survival. Mountain people: resilient, tough survivors who put family and clan first. And sea people: adventurers, dreamers and traders.

Caught between a rock to the East/North and a hard place to the South, maybe it is little surprise that so many Lebanese have opted to go West. For Lebanon is all too often a vector for regional instability, the place where others fight their battles. Seeing Lebanon as a test ground for the relative strength of interfering outsiders, we agonise over who is really in charge. But the Lebanese know that the battle for Lebanon’s soul is never truly won. Nor does any group really believe it ever will be. A fragile but somehow functional system of consent, patronage and compromise holds. And as a result Lebanon, through its diversity, remains the best place to take the pulse of the Arab world.

But the transformation of the region creates greater uncertainty and – given the past – fear. Each of the key groups is taking stock, marshalling forces, testing internal and external alliances. Lebanon is a cauldron of raw politics. There are no permanent allies nor enemies. Many fear sectarianism is getting worse – only 5% in co-education, compared to 40% a generation ago. The Lebanese are fatalist – “this is Lebanon” – about these problems. And they often have an outsider to blame, normally with good reason.

With so many challenges, for some observers it defies logic that Lebanon still works. My sense is that it is through a combination of money, the fear of going back to the past, and – above all – the talent, ingenuity and resilience of the Lebanese. But the downside of this adaptability is that the Lebanese tolerate and work around problems that should be solved. This doesn’t always make for perfect government – getting even basic legislation is based on constant negotiation and brinkmanship, which risks encouraging inertia.

External interventions in Lebanon tend to end in tears. As people here say: Lebanon is easy to swallow, but hard to digest. So should we marvel at Lebanon’s wonders but despair of change? Unsurprisingly, I think not. I believe that the forces holding Lebanon together remain stronger than those pulling it apart. And the UK should be very much in the former group. If we can’t win the argument for democracy, politics and co-existence in Lebanon, we’ll lose it closer to home.

Our embassy’s mission here is to serve Brits, through a prosperous partnership with a stable and sovereign Lebanon. In support of Lebanon’s stability, I think the UK can:

Running through all these themes, I think we must focus on the future. Too much debate tends to be on the immediate. So I want to start a conversation on what Lebanon could be like in 2020, aged 100. See my next blog for more …

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