Disappearing Beirut

Every week in my neighborhood in East Beirut, I discover that another beautiful old building has suddenly dissolved into a pile of rubble, or been replaced by an empty crater. What's going on? More Israeli air-strikes? A Syrian bombing campaign? Iranian infiltrators?

No, this is one Lebanese mess you can't blame on outsiders. The country is in the middle of a construction boom that is eating through Beirut's endangered historic housing stock.

The 15-year Lebanese civil war (1975-1990) did much to destroy Beirut's mellow Mediterranean mosaic of Ottoman villas, Arab souks, and Art-Deco apartment buildings from the French Mandate era. The country's post civil war reconstruction, with an emphasis on wannbe-Dubai glitz and bland luxury hotels, is rapidly taking care of the rest.

At first glance, it is surprising that real estate development in Beirut is continuing at such a rapacious rate. The country is in the midst of a political crisis between the Hizballah-led opposition and the US-backed ruling coalition, which (along with bouts of sectarian rioting and the possibility of another war with Israel) has already scared away many investors. But precisely because of such instability, there is now an even bigger premium on real estate in socially desirable, "safe" neighborhoods.

Sections of East Beirut like mine survived last summer's war almost totally unscathed, since the Israeli air force concentrated on Hizballah strongholds in the Shia suburbs south of the city. And the conventional wisdom is that any future sectarian squabbling between Shia and Sunni gangs will likely take place in predominantly Muslim West Beirut, not the Christian East. So the developers and their bulldozers have stormed East Beirut and are replacing some of the last and best specimens of the city's historic residential buildings with condominium towers. What weak preservation laws exist are routinely flouted.

With all the mounting mayhem in the Middle East, one might well ask what saving a few old buildings would do to hold back the forces of destruction. Perhaps nothing in the scheme of things. But at a time of rising fundamentalism and sectarianism, reminders of the polyglot past are more important than ever. A fragile young nation like Lebanon needs all the history it can hold on to.

--Andrew Lee Butters/Beirut