From my last post, my trip to the South might sound like it was a sad meditation on life in a war zone—and undoubtedly it was partially that—but it was also an eye-opener on how unexpectedly normal (if such a word can be said about anything) my stay was there.
I won't deny that I had certain apprehensions prior to going. Many Lebanese people have never visited the region, and al-Janub being, as I mentioned earlier, mainly Hezbollah territory, I wasn't completely certain what to expect. It didn't help that the only books I had read that discussed the South were written by foreign men (Thomas Friedman and Michael Totten, both from the New York Times), who described a hovering, pervasive Hezbollah presence everywhere they went.
Not so. Well, at least, not by Lebanese standards.
Flags from Hezbollah and Amal (another Shi'a party) are a ubiquitous presence, as are posters with faces of the shahid (martyrs). But it would be hypocritical to make this observation in the South when all of Lebanon is plastered with huge photographs of politicians living or dead and my own neighborhood is covered with the flag of the Syrian Social National Party, whose emblem israther suspiciously reminiscent of a swastika.
I went in with a scarf permanently around my neck, expecting to have to cover up my hair the further south we went, but it was never necessary. In fact, I found there to be more unveiled women in the South than I had observed when I visited the traditional neighborhood of Tripoli. I did not even have to cover myself when in the presence of Hezbollah members, although I was told not to greet men with handshakes. If I had come there in order to observe a region under the throttle of Islamism, man would I have been disappointed.
What I say here is based solely on my observations during two days, accompanied by someone who knew the region. The fact that I am a young woman probably contributed to the fact that I was not perceived as a security threat at any point, like the aforementioned journalists. I am very well aware that I have most probably not been exposed to some less savory aspects of al-Janub. But even if I don’t have the full picture of what everyday life is like in southern Lebanon, I think it is important to share my experience, because it did not fit the narrative of Hezbollah as big, bad, evil terrorists out to stone those infidel foreign women who dare come too close.
There are two drastically different visions of Hezbollah: they see themselves as a resistance group fighting against the Israeli threat to their sovereignty and security. The West has labeled them “terrorists” and lumped them together with Al-Qaeda, as if these groups had anything in common beyond being non-state actors with weapons whose memberships don’t include very many white people. The war on terror has proved a useful tool in reshaping the narrative in the Middle East in Israel’s favor, where freedom fighters, whether from Hezbollah or the PLO, are now portrayed, irony of ironies, as freedom-hating groups that must be stopped at all costs, lest they destroy Israel and come after America next. Hezbollah is often reviled as an agent of Syria and Iran, but it is rather surrealist to see Lebanese politicians emit these criticisms when they are themselves funded by Americans and Saudis.
I am well aware that Hezbollah is far from being an innocent victim of circumstances caused by Western interventionism. I am not exonerating them of any crimes they have committed. By principle, I find the conflation of religion and politics extremely problematic, but in a country where all politics are religious, it is dishonest to slam Hezbollah for their Islamism and ignore the others. Coming here has forced me to reconsider the discourses I have been exposed to from all media in the West, and come to the re-realization that nothing is simply black or white, especially in politics, especially in Lebanon.
Soooo, now that I have possibly offended some of my meager readership, let me make up for it by showing you some more pictures of my trip!
I won't deny that I had certain apprehensions prior to going. Many Lebanese people have never visited the region, and al-Janub being, as I mentioned earlier, mainly Hezbollah territory, I wasn't completely certain what to expect. It didn't help that the only books I had read that discussed the South were written by foreign men (Thomas Friedman and Michael Totten, both from the New York Times), who described a hovering, pervasive Hezbollah presence everywhere they went.
Not so. Well, at least, not by Lebanese standards.
Flags from Hezbollah and Amal (another Shi'a party) are a ubiquitous presence, as are posters with faces of the shahid (martyrs). But it would be hypocritical to make this observation in the South when all of Lebanon is plastered with huge photographs of politicians living or dead and my own neighborhood is covered with the flag of the Syrian Social National Party, whose emblem israther suspiciously reminiscent of a swastika.
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| From left: the Lebanese, Palestinian and Hezbollah flags, and a sign commemorating a shahid. |
I went in with a scarf permanently around my neck, expecting to have to cover up my hair the further south we went, but it was never necessary. In fact, I found there to be more unveiled women in the South than I had observed when I visited the traditional neighborhood of Tripoli. I did not even have to cover myself when in the presence of Hezbollah members, although I was told not to greet men with handshakes. If I had come there in order to observe a region under the throttle of Islamism, man would I have been disappointed.
What I say here is based solely on my observations during two days, accompanied by someone who knew the region. The fact that I am a young woman probably contributed to the fact that I was not perceived as a security threat at any point, like the aforementioned journalists. I am very well aware that I have most probably not been exposed to some less savory aspects of al-Janub. But even if I don’t have the full picture of what everyday life is like in southern Lebanon, I think it is important to share my experience, because it did not fit the narrative of Hezbollah as big, bad, evil terrorists out to stone those infidel foreign women who dare come too close.
There are two drastically different visions of Hezbollah: they see themselves as a resistance group fighting against the Israeli threat to their sovereignty and security. The West has labeled them “terrorists” and lumped them together with Al-Qaeda, as if these groups had anything in common beyond being non-state actors with weapons whose memberships don’t include very many white people. The war on terror has proved a useful tool in reshaping the narrative in the Middle East in Israel’s favor, where freedom fighters, whether from Hezbollah or the PLO, are now portrayed, irony of ironies, as freedom-hating groups that must be stopped at all costs, lest they destroy Israel and come after America next. Hezbollah is often reviled as an agent of Syria and Iran, but it is rather surrealist to see Lebanese politicians emit these criticisms when they are themselves funded by Americans and Saudis.
I am well aware that Hezbollah is far from being an innocent victim of circumstances caused by Western interventionism. I am not exonerating them of any crimes they have committed. By principle, I find the conflation of religion and politics extremely problematic, but in a country where all politics are religious, it is dishonest to slam Hezbollah for their Islamism and ignore the others. Coming here has forced me to reconsider the discourses I have been exposed to from all media in the West, and come to the re-realization that nothing is simply black or white, especially in politics, especially in Lebanon.
Soooo, now that I have possibly offended some of my meager readership, let me make up for it by showing you some more pictures of my trip!
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| "7ayate b7ebek": my life, I love you |
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| Fatima Gate, now closed, used to be the passage between Israel and Lebanon. |
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| A UNIFIL tank |
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| Beautiful sceneries |
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