Crisis in Lebanon: “Waiting for God to Help Us”

It is dark at night in Beirut – electricity is scarce. Medicines and petrol are also missing. Lebanon is in a deep economic and financial crisis. The situation continues to worsen – with no prospect of improvement.

Salim El-Sayegh leads through the building of his party – or better: what is left of it. The walls are still standing, including the supporting columns, but a large part of the structure was destroyed in the gigantic explosion in the port of Beirut. There are now holes where there used to be window panes. Salim El-Sayegh points to an office that offers a view of the sea.

The general secretary of the Kata’ib party, Nazar Najarian, was still trying to get to safety when hundreds of tons of explosives detonated in the port on August 4th. But a short time later he succumbed to his injuries. Many other people in the building at the same time were also injured. The traces of the explosion are still visible ten months later in the headquarters of the Kata’ib party. Only the conference room behind an imposing wooden door has now been completely renovated and equipped with modern tables and chairs and a microphone system. Salim El-Sayegh says:

People donated a lot to us. You can also do this online. And all of our engineers and architects work for us without taking any money.

As good as bankrupt

The Lebanese Brigades Party, also known as the Kata’ib, has supporters around the world – Lebanese Christians who left the country years or decades ago. They send money because they know that the small country on the Mediterranean is as good as bankrupt – a result of decades of corruption and mismanagement. Salim El-Sayegh draws a grim balance:

We are currently watching Lebanon turn into a completely failed state. This means that Lebanon will no longer be able to govern itself. We’re imploding.

Even before the explosion in the crisis

Even before the explosion in the port of Beirut, which destroyed a large part of the city, Lebanon was in a deep financial and economic crisis. The Lebanese pound has lost more than 90 percent of its value since 2019. The prices of meat, fruit and vegetables are increasing day by day. Electricity, fuel and medication have long been in short supply.

It stays dark in Beirut

At night it stays dark even in the capital because the state can no longer pay the electricity producers. Long queues form in front of the gas stations; Drivers wait for hours to get hold of at least a few liters of gasoline. A Lebanese man has set up his keyboard in front of a closed gas station. “Fill the tank up a little,” he sings. “I want to go to the bakery, my children are hungry”.

It’s not always so creative and peaceful. In the past few days and weeks there have been repeated fights and exchanges of fire in front of the gas stations because the demand for fuel is far greater than the supply.

In the city of Sidon about an hour south of Beirut, shopkeeper Khalil Akhdar slides a small bill over the counter. The elderly woman standing in front of his cash register has no money to buy almonds, nuts or dried apricots. The dealer recognizes the woman’s plight, although he hardly earns anything himself.

I can still remember the civil war that began in 1975. Even then, we didn’t have such major economic problems as we do today. There was inflation back then too, but you could go to the bank and withdraw money. There was a lot of cash. Now there is none. Something is wrong here. Somebody seems to be getting in the way of all of us.

Parties block each other

In fact, the parties in the Lebanese parliament are blocking each other for fear of losing their privileges. The top political posts are divided among the most important religious groups. The president should always be a Christian, the head of government a Sunni and the speaker of parliament a Shiite. The problem: With the help of this system, the political elite haggle for each other and enrich themselves at the expense of the population.

The dealer from Sidon says: Everything will stay as it is. Only the people would be changed. “When Hassan leaves, his brother Hussein comes. Or Ali, Mohamed, Omar or Boutrous come – always the same. If someone leaves, he brings his brother or cousin.”

A young man sells fruit and vegetables in the small market across from Khalil Akhdar’s shop. In the past, says Akram, who refuses to give his full name, a kilo of watermelon cost 500 Lebanese pounds. The price is now six times as high.

“We are waiting for God to help us”

“We work day in, day out to earn our food. If you earn 100,000 Lebanese pounds a day, that’s only five or six dollars in the end,” says Akram. But when you’re spending $ 20 or $ 30 a day, you have to make a lot more to make ends meet. At the moment, the expenses are higher than what we earn. “We are waiting for God to help us,” said Akram.

Hardly anyone trusts the government anymore

Hardly anyone trusts the Lebanese government, which is only executive in office. And countries like France that could help do not want to transfer money as long as there are no guarantees of reform. Many Lebanese are hoping for a new beginning, for the young generation who are concerned about the country and not just about their own interests.

But the political elite is firmly in the saddle. Like Nabih Berri, the leader of the Shiite Amal movement. He has been President of Parliament for almost three decades.

If his adviser Ali Hamdan has his way, things can stay that way in the future: “It is now crucial that the chairman of the Amal movement, Parliament President Nabih Berri, lead an initiative to form a new cabinet,” he says. Everyone knows that this is necessary now. “Unfortunately, we have not yet reached a final result, so we have not yet formed a cabinet. But we have already made a few steps. We have to hurry – but such efforts must not be rushed.”