A man surveys the rubble of a building destroyed by an Israeli air strike on Oct. 1 in Ain el-Delb, a Palestinian refugee camp on the outskirts of the coastal city of Sidon, Lebanon.DIEGO IBARRA SANCHEZ/The New York Times News Service
Dany Assaf is a lawyer and author of Say Please and Thank You & Stand in Line: One Man’s Story of What Makes Canada Special, and How to Keep it That Way.
Looking at the news outlets’ mapping of Israeli strike locations in Lebanon in recent days, my eyes are drawn to those red dots of the Bekaa Valley. This is the region where I spent summers as a child at my grandparents’ house in the tiny village of Lala. I vividly recall the valley’s terraced, red-earth Mediterranean hills studded with abundant cherry, olive and fig trees, and the vast blue skies and captivating landscapes where its tranquility is its treasure. I am seized with sorrow, knowing that the serenity of this cherished valley is broken by the sounds of deafening fighter jets and its residents suffering from fear of war, again.
Canada and Lebanon have been deeply connected for well over a century, with precious and cherished bonds from coast to coast. As a long-standing friend, Canada is well positioned to play a meaningful role to help it write a new chapter – but only if our leaders take bold steps to act before it’s too late. The situation in Lebanon and our collective steps from here will become a mirror of how we will define this era of our humanity. This small land with its huge history reflects so much of the tensions in the modern world, war and violence, religion and sectarianism, global geopolitical battles, but also much charm, entrepreneurship and opportunity in this place long associated with the phoenix, the legendary bird that always rises in rebirth and renewal.
In forging our renewed path ahead in a world with so much darkness, it is incumbent on us to try to save the beautiful things, and Lebanon and Beirut are particularly beautiful. If you have ever visited Beirut, you know I don’t mean just the physical kind of beauty, but the beauty of the soul. Kind of like when you meet someone for the first time, yet you feel like you’ve known them your whole life, and they suddenly just seem beautiful to you, with all their imperfections. That is Beirut. Regardless of its scars or its dangers, it’s like a magnet that clings to your heart and attaches. It won’t let go. A part of it becomes a little part of you.
That is the only explanation for this eternal city, and why, over the centuries, it remains in the hearts and minds of so many in times of peace and in times of war. To be sure, the signs of times of war and strife are everywhere. If you drive by the iconic St. Georges Hotel, which once hosted stars such as Elizabeth Taylor, Marlon Brando and Brigitte Bardot, you remember it now marks the spot where prime minister Rafic Hariri was assassinated. You may also see the indelible damage to the Port of Beirut from the 2020 explosion on the Mediterranean, or the skeletal remains of the Holiday Inn, which is like a sick monument to the Civil War almost 50 years later. Exploring the city, you are quickly reminded of the recent pain the “Paris of the Middle East” has endured. On the walls of many Lebanese restaurants, you will find pictures of Beirut from the 1960s and early 70s – past memories of this cosmopolitan and hip place. That is the image of Beirut that many Lebanese choose to freeze in their minds. It serves as both a coping mechanism to suppress thoughts of what has befallen this pearl of a city, but strangely also represents the eternal spark of Lebanese resilience of this phoenix-like city, a place where the glories of the past can be reborn in the future.
Lebanon’s history goes back more than 8,000 years. The city of Jbeil (Byblos) is documented as one of humanity’s oldest continuously inhabited cities and perhaps even the oldest city over all. It is also where the Phoenician alphabet was invented, which was the precursor to the Greek alphabet and the Latin languages. The history of language itself is a metaphor for our common and ever intertwined history.
Then there were the adventures of Phoenicians, famous for their seafaring, navigation and trading ways and their outward vision and engagement. This lived history contributed to Lebanon becoming the crossroads to humanity, and a vibrant diaspora later spread worldwide. This eventually came to include my own great-grandfather, who emigrated to the Canadian Prairies in 1927 to join his extended family, who had already arrived several decades prior.
A man walks on building rubble at the site of an overnight Israeli airstrike on the Laylaki neighbourhood in Beirut's southern suburbs on Oct. 1.ANWAR AMRO/AFP/Getty Images
In Beirut in normal times, you can ski in the morning, go to the beach on the Mediterranean in the afternoon and have a glamorous night out for food and fun amongst the stylish locals until dawn. It is the original city that never sleeps. But, of course, with war raging, it is far from its heyday of the 1960s or even its pre-COVID and pre-Port blast days, when many people still found a way to visit and celebrate the joys of the city. Today, the city is packed with families fleeing the bombing, with displacement already surpassing the 2006 war, and these families are stuffed into overflowing shelters and sleeping along the streets and in parks.
Beirut’s fall has been the result of many factors, and a testament to how conflict, complacency and corruption can destroy even the most beautiful things. And how when things start to unravel, they can spiral fast. It is also a lesson on how those always latent forces of sectarianism, once unleashed in any society, can become the accelerant to ignite an out-of-control fire.
In recent times, Lebanon has been both victim and the author of its own troubles. While it has always had its divisions, starting with religion and those who cynically exploit it for political gain, such long-standing divisions do not really distinguish it among nations.
The arrival of Palestinians in 1948 and onward who took refuge in Lebanon has weighed on the country for generations. The militias that formed to fight for one cause or another further divided the country and weakened it. When the state is weak, it is also vulnerable to the forces of corruption. That is when people start to think only of themselves and not of the common good. They feel the country falling and turn to just lining their own pockets or helping their friends.
How we solve the current conflict between Israel and Lebanon will have a lasting impact on the Middle East region and for humanity. Dishonouring its history of beauty is not an answer. The war in Lebanon is a real-time experiment on how our generation will solve complex human conflicts.
Today, Canada needs to reaffirm its history as a peacekeeping nation as we did in the Suez Canal crisis. Canada should use its power as a convener to host a global peace initiative with like-minded nations and challenge others to join us.
Life teaches us all that hate blinds and that our anger does not provide answers. In the Middle East, if killing one another was the answer, its problems should have been long solved by now with all the blood spilt. Over the decades, the names of the leaders and groups have changed or become irrelevant or died, but the cycles of violence seem to live on.
Hope for a better tomorrow is how we honour the gift of life today. In the beautiful words of Lebanese-American writer and poet Khalil Gibran, “Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream.”
Despite all of today’s unfolding horror in Lebanon, our common humanity demands we never stop dreaming and working toward a better tomorrow for peace and tranquility for everyone’s children. And by saving beauty in Lebanon so it can shine again, we also save a little piece of ourselves.