The topic of race in Lebanon is one I've wanted to bring up for a while. It's not an easy issue, but one I don't think is often brought up when talking about Lebanon, at least in the media abroad. There's a lot to say, so consider this part one of several posts on the issue.
This is not to say that all Lebanese people are racist. This is not to say that Lebanon is uniquely plagued by racism; being a raging progressive who has lived in France and the US, I've seen how ugly and insidious racism can be on an institutional and societal level. But perceptions of race are shaped by culture and society, influenced by local and external factors. Coming to Lebanon has shown me new and, at times, blunt aspects of race relations that I think are worth discussing.
I'll admit that upon arrival, I had expected Lebanon to be rather racially homogeneous, and was surprised by the diversity I saw in the streets. This impression soon changed once I realized that while there may be sizeable African and Asian populations in Lebanon, the overwhelming majority of them form an exploited migrant worker class filling in the lowest-level positions for scant pay and terrible living conditions. One woman I spoke to who worked at a nail salon told me that she moved from the Philippines only to have her passport confiscated upon arrival by her boss. When she wasn't working some ten hours a day, her employers locked her and her colleagues inside their apartment.
This story is far from unusual: having a live-in maid is a common occurrence in upper-class families, to the point where luxury apartments are even designed to include a smaller "maid's room" (because why give them a normal-sized living space?). While there are undoubtedly families who treat their immigrant employees well, and most certainly claim they do, migrant workers are constantly rendered invisible, treated as "less than" and find themselves extremely vulnerable to various forms of abuse—especially if they are women. The brutal public beating and subsequent suicide of Ethiopian worker Alem Dechasa a couple of months ago cast a bright and uncomfortable light on the systemic discrimination against the people who do some of Lebanon's most ungrateful jobs.
The living conditions of refugees are even less enviable, with Palestinians representing the biggest portion of the refugee population in Lebanon. Thousands fled Palestine after the Nakba in 1948, and there are now an estimated 400,000 Palestinians in the country—about ten percent of the country's total population. Yet despite their numerical importance in the country, and despite the fact that the Palestinian cause has been claimed by some political parties in Lebanon, their living conditions in refugee camps remain deplorable. Palestinians are barred from exercising most qualified jobs in Lebanon, such as doctor, lawyer or engineer, and can't legally own land or housing outside of camps. On top of this, some portions of the Lebanese population feel a lot of resentment against Palestinians and hold them responsible for causing the civil war. Despite the fact that several generations of Palestinians were born and died here, they are still treated like strangers. All in all, it's a generally undisputed fact that Lebanon is one of the worst host countries for Palestinian refugees in the region.
And they are not alone. The Syrian conflict has been taking a turn in the past several weeks, as fighting has further intensified, reaching formerly calm places like Damascus or Aleppo. Last week, UNHCR reported that some 18,000 Syrians crossed the border into Lebanon—in two days. While Syrians refugees have found their way into Lebanon since the beginning of the conflict last year, this is by far the largest influx yet. This is of course in addition to the numerous Syrian migrant workers who have been working thankless jobs here for years and face threats of violence on a regular basis. Many of the most recent arrivals are wealthy Syrians who could easily afford the trip, but more will undoubtedly come later, and the Lebanese state is not expected to do much to help. In contrast, a Lebanese woman I know told me that when she fled to Syria during the July 2006 war, she and her family were housed, had a doctor visit them every day, and were given 50,000LL ($33) per person per day—an unthinkable level of assistance here.
The discrimination against "others" isn't a feature exclusive to Lebanon, but it its presence here is striking in the absence of any form of sugarcoating. It is made all the more blatantly uncomfortable seeing how I don't experience it as a white person (well... being a white woman here is another matter, but probably for a later post). I wonder how much is due to the racial hierarchy inherited from the colonial era, or whether fear and distrust of the other is just a global human feature. Ultimately, it's hard to expect Lebanese citizens to embrace foreigners in their own land when they are still struggling to live peacefully among themselves. But the excuses for paralysis in social justice cannot go on forever. I've seen a lot said and done in the past year by the activist community here on migrant rights which shows that there is awareness of the issues. But more still needs to be done. When you have refugees from freaking Sudan protesting to be resettled to another host country, it's probably time to reassess the status of human rights in your country for immigrants—as well as for your own sake.
And they are not alone. The Syrian conflict has been taking a turn in the past several weeks, as fighting has further intensified, reaching formerly calm places like Damascus or Aleppo. Last week, UNHCR reported that some 18,000 Syrians crossed the border into Lebanon—in two days. While Syrians refugees have found their way into Lebanon since the beginning of the conflict last year, this is by far the largest influx yet. This is of course in addition to the numerous Syrian migrant workers who have been working thankless jobs here for years and face threats of violence on a regular basis. Many of the most recent arrivals are wealthy Syrians who could easily afford the trip, but more will undoubtedly come later, and the Lebanese state is not expected to do much to help. In contrast, a Lebanese woman I know told me that when she fled to Syria during the July 2006 war, she and her family were housed, had a doctor visit them every day, and were given 50,000LL ($33) per person per day—an unthinkable level of assistance here.
The discrimination against "others" isn't a feature exclusive to Lebanon, but it its presence here is striking in the absence of any form of sugarcoating. It is made all the more blatantly uncomfortable seeing how I don't experience it as a white person (well... being a white woman here is another matter, but probably for a later post). I wonder how much is due to the racial hierarchy inherited from the colonial era, or whether fear and distrust of the other is just a global human feature. Ultimately, it's hard to expect Lebanese citizens to embrace foreigners in their own land when they are still struggling to live peacefully among themselves. But the excuses for paralysis in social justice cannot go on forever. I've seen a lot said and done in the past year by the activist community here on migrant rights which shows that there is awareness of the issues. But more still needs to be done. When you have refugees from freaking Sudan protesting to be resettled to another host country, it's probably time to reassess the status of human rights in your country for immigrants—as well as for your own sake.
This was wonderfully written and true.
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