Generational Conflict  4 min “If not us, then who?”

Something remarkable has begun in Beirut. Massive government mismanagement and the attendant garbage crisis two years ago inspired and galvanized Lebanese youth to demand more of their government and to hold their leaders accountable. It all began with the closure of the Naameh landfill, which was over-capacity.

Chapter 1: Garbage Pileup

 
June 2015: Although politicians knew for years that the Naameh landfill was to eventually be closed, they were never able to come up with a sustainable, long-term waste management plan for Lebanon’s capital. And with Naameh closed and no place else to put Beirut’s trash, the corporation that handles Beirut’s trash ceased collection.

Within hours, Beirut’s streets were piling up with garbage. 
   
A larger rally soon took place in Martyrs’ Square in downtown Beirut. There was music, and people aired their grievances. They tied the garbage crisis to economic corruption and lack of transparency regarding public spending. 

While the young activists started to get minimal media attention, the crowds attending the rallies grew larger. Speaking to my parents, older relatives, and even older bystanders around the protests, they all had similar concerns. “What if this leads to instability and bigger problems?” they would usually ask. It was obvious that they had the civil war on the back of their minds, which pitted Christian against Muslim, leftist against nationalist...etc. But the garbage crisis was different in almost every way possible. The piles of festering garbage didn’t affect just one of Lebanon’s 18 religious sects. It affected everyone. And the young men and women that did not live through the war were fed up. They could not just sit back and tolerate as their parents continued to. 
 
I’ve been to many protests over the years in Lebanon for a wide variety of issues and causes: secularism, opposing illegal Parliament term renewals, campaigning for a domestic violence law, LGBTQ rights, among others. This was different.

This was the first cause in many years that the whole country, which is divided along sectarian and political lines, could agree on. This was not a Christian issue or a Muslim issue, a religious issue or a secular issue. This was about corruption and the failure of our leaders, something all Lebanese could agree on.
 
This was rage at a government that clearly did not care about its citizens at all.
I felt that the garbage wasn’t the only issue, but it was just on the top of the list. It was the final straw. 

CHAPTER 3: Floodgates open
 

In Lebanon, the moment the police forcefully ends a protest or when the government turns a blind eye long enough, the movement dies out. But this was different. When the police attacked protesters with water cannons, rubber bullets, and mass arrests to try and stop protests from taking place, more people turned out and the crowds grew. When the police lobbed tear gas canisters, protesters threw them back. And, of course, people came back the next day in larger numbers. 

When I’d ask several protesters whether they feared police violence and arrest, they would tell me that they had to be on the streets. “If not us, then who?” was a common response.
 
Local and international media were present, and Beirut was center stage. Families from all backgrounds joined the young protestors. They chanted: “The people demand the fall of the regime.” 
 
This was a generation that hadn’t lost hope the way the last one did. Living through 15 years of war is soul-crushing. The people that made up the majority of the protestors were willing to fight for a better life, and were willing to take matters into their own hands. While our parents put stability at first, fearing another repeat of the civil war, this new generation sees it differently. Some of the older people did eventually take to the streets, but many others chose to support the protests from a distance. They’d sometimes tell people as they pass by that they are happy they are doing this or cheer them on from a distance. However, many would also observe with an emotionless look on their face, not being sure what to make of it. 

The protests were like a snowball picking up speed and growing rapidly. Statements from authorities and political leaders were met with bigger protests and louder calls for the resignation of the government.
 
Given that my childhood wasn’t tarnished by the war, I can understand why an escalation concerned my family, but as a journalist trying to cover the protests, I struggled to contain my excitement. 

CHAPTER 4: Escalation

The police were ruthless; they shot rubber bullets from short range, causing many injuries. They beat protesters as they tried to run away. They attacked journalists and anyone who tried to help people caught in the chaos. Mohammad Kassir, a college student mere months from his engineering degree, was shot in the back of his head and fell into a coma. Though Kassir survived, his life will never be the same.
 
I remember my parents and parents of friends heartbroken over the incident. They asked me and others who were covering the protests or protesting to not end up in his situation, and to stay home instead, and that it wasn’t worth the risk. 

Lebanese Red Cross ambulances zoomed off to the nearest hospital every few minutes when clashes escalated. 
 
Protests would go on all day, and all night. At night, the riots escalated. But the protests only ended when people left the streets fearing their safety, or in an ambulance, or a police van. Standoffs between young protesters and riot police became routine. 
 

CHAPTER 5: Transformation

 
Downtown Beirut was destroyed during Lebanon’s civil war. It was rebuilt but without soul. It became an expensive area with nothing but banks, office buildings and pretty facades covering empty buildings. Where were the people?
 
The protests brought Downtown Beirut back to life. For a brief period, downtown was full of people young and old. They talked. They laughed. They took selfies with their friends, sprayed graffiti, vented their frustrations and clashed with the police.
 
They talked about possibilities that summer. They discussed what Lebanon could be.
 
When police built a concrete wall, artists painted anti-government murals within minutes. People gathered by the wall to continue their conversations, using it as shade.

Downtown Beirut briefly became what it was before the war and what it ought to be again: a place where people from across the capital and country can come together. It became a public space. Even small vendors selling ice cold water settled in the area. It was the democratic grassroots that Lebanon hasn’t had in years.
 

CHAPTER 6: What’s left? What’s next?

 
The garbage has been taken off the streets. Most of the barriers have been taken down, though some of the graffiti is still present.
 
A meaningful resolution is nowhere in sight. Beirut still does not have a sustainable waste management plan. The government simply opened new dumps with little to no environmental studies or planning, and is pretending that everything is OK.
 
This much is clear: people are more engaged with local issues, especially when it comes to Lebanon’s diminishing public spaces. Two independent slates ran for office in Beirut’s municipality during the 2016 municipal elections. They lost.The general public is looking forward and approaching political issues in a slightly different way than before. My parents’ generation is tired. But the younger generation is angry. It knows Lebanon’s leaders have failed them. This generation has many years ahead of it, and it does not want to mitigate existing problems that the older generation has accepted.
 
Why can’t we have a waste management plan like other countries? Why can’t we have reliable water and electricity like other countries? Lebanon’s internet is so sluggish that streaming this report in rural areas might be problematic. Are we supposed to accept this?
 
So, what’s next? I don’t know. Anything can happen. Are yesterday’s protest movement leaders tomorrow’s political officials?

This is what I know: Lebanon is witnessing the emergence of a generation that refuses to sit quietly, and that gives me hope.

February 2018