Pessimism Deepens In Postwar Lebanon

Debate Swirls Over Prospect of 'Iraqization'

BEIRUT -- A racket filled the air outside Mohammed Jassar's shop in a swath of Beirut devastated in this summer's war with Israel. Hammers delivered a cadence to the clamor of bulldozers, saws and drills trying to rebuild. The noise was almost as loud as the invective these days in Lebanese politics, paralyzing a country that has never quite known peace. Jassar has had enough. Three weeks, he blurted. After that, he'd decide whether to leave Lebanon.

"This is a country scared of its future," he said.

Lebanon has emerged from the 33-day war with Israel only to find itself lately in one of the most pronounced political crises it has experienced in a generation. At first glance, the issues dividing it are somewhat arcane: the legitimacy of an international tribunal to try those suspected of killing former prime minister Rafiq al-Hariri in 2005, and the representation in the cabinet for the opposition, which comprises Hezbollah, another Shiite Muslim faction and a Christian ally. But the stakes are far higher, in effect the future of the country: What groups and their patrons -- the United States, France, Syria or Iran -- will guide Lebanese politics?

There is a cinematic quality to the events, a commotion that resembles a film's opening credits: snippets of hurried conversation, incendiary news broadcasts, glimpses of politically loaded posters draped over streets, and a pessimism, deep and intransigent, that has become a national pastime.

"This is what is so tragic about it," said Fawwaz Traboulsi, a historian and professor at Lebanese American University. "We've been reduced to people who are frightened by the worst and hoping for something that might be less bad."

Lebanon is blessed and cursed by its diversity. The logic of coexistence among 18 religious sects, often with their own readings of history, dictates a tolerance and occasional cosmopolitanism that stands out in an Arab world becoming ever more atavistic and resentful. On display these days in Beirut, though, is that diversity's more menacing side.

On television, a Christian-owned station has introduced broadcasts with the ominous phrase: "Is it the silence before the storm?" Another station, loyal to Hariri's son Saad, a key figure in the governing coalition, has shed any pretense of objectivity, airing footage of this summer's war. A voiceover asks: "Who was responsible?" What does it matter? We won, answers Hezbollah's station, al-Manar.

Hezbollah's iconography still adorns the city, depicting "The Divine Victory" and "Victory from God." One poster portrays Israeli soldiers crying. "The invincible army," it mocks. Along the city's fault lines, the Hezbollah icons mix with posters hung by Hariri's followers. "We will not forget," they read over portraits of Lebanese killed since 2005 in a string of assassinations that many here blame on Syria, an ally of Hezbollah.

"Everyone is hanging up a picture," one resident quipped as he saw a poster unfurled.

Vitriol has reigned on talk shows since Hezbollah first threatened mass demonstrations last month to topple the government of Prime Minister Fouad Siniora, and everyday conversations are punctuated with talk of emigration. A new word has entered political discussions: Does Lebanon stand on the brink of "Iraqization"?

Some shop owners say customers have stocked up on milk, rice and other staples. And, if it could get any grimmer, a statement attributed to al-Qaeda announced the network's arrival in Lebanon "to work on destroying this corrupt government which takes orders from the American administration."

"Pity Lebanon," said Ali Zein, a store owner in the city's southern suburbs, whose 5-year-old son, Mohammed, plied the sidewalk in his toy car. "People are living like there's always a crisis. If it's not war, it's protests. If it's not protests, it's war."