Asharq Al-Awsat in Baalbek-Hermel: Lack of State Control Fortifies 'Local Self-Rule'

Farmers working in cannabis fields in the Bekaa (AP Photo/Hassan Ammar)
Farmers working in cannabis fields in the Bekaa (AP Photo/Hassan Ammar)
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Asharq Al-Awsat in Baalbek-Hermel: Lack of State Control Fortifies 'Local Self-Rule'

Farmers working in cannabis fields in the Bekaa (AP Photo/Hassan Ammar)
Farmers working in cannabis fields in the Bekaa (AP Photo/Hassan Ammar)

Residents of Lebanon's Baalbek-Hermel are cautious when they talk to the media, whether they are from the Hezbollah party and Amal Movement, or even neutral people who only mind their own affairs and avoid political concerns.

A very rare number of those interviewed by Asharq Al-Awsat agreed to reveal their true identity. Censorship is a golden rule. The majority emphasizes the words, “on condition of anonymity”, when they talk about the reality of this region which has been neglected by official authorities since Lebanon’s independence in 1943. The area is a no-law zone, and is classified as Hezbollah’s “resistance tank”.

The outcome of the field tour leads to the conclusion that the ruling methods are the same: imposition of dues in Baalbek or Arsal, kidnapping for ransom, settling scores with those whose arrest threatens the “safety” of the area or those who rebel against the “resistance”, in addition to many more means that further fortify the no-law zone.

Asharq Al-Awsat’s tour also showed the striking neglect and deprivation in the area, in terms of water infrastructure, electricity, roads, etc., compared to other regions in Lebanon.

Weapons that are not visible in the streets are seen in densely populated villages, whether for the security of certain figures or for other personalities who are well-known to the residents, most of whom are said to be senior drug traffickers.

This season marks the beginning of harvest in the area’s large cannabis fields. It is, therefore, normal to see a mother and her children harvest the crop, taking the leaves from their trunks and cutting them with knives, indifferent to passers-by. But beware of getting too close or staring with curiosity. Usually, the cannabis is for export and not for domestic consumption. The people of Baalbek-Hermel are not addicted to cannabis. The use of narcotic pills is present, but it remains insignificant compared to in urban areas, especially in Beirut.

Some argue that legalizing cannabis will go against the interests of big dealers, who are afraid that supply will surpass the demand and prices will fall.

Lack of trust in the state is a common sentiment among the residents. However, the distinction between the state and Hezbollah is subjective. Those who support the party insist that it is their only salvation that compensates for the absence of any legal authority. Hezbollah provides fixed salaries for about 20 percent of the Baalbek-Hermel population and supports medical, social and educational institutions.

War in Syria was a source of income for many families. But it is worth mentioning that a large number of part-time fighters from Lebanon returned to their homes last month. They now receive half a salary and stay in their homes until they are needed again.

Many do not support Hezbollah. Although they are “elite” fighters, they are unable to achieve the change they hope for. They believe that the party has become a “micro-state”, a local regime that benefits from the total absence of the Lebanese state. The talk about the decline of the dominance of the Shiite duo (of Hezbollah and Amal) is seen by the majority as a distant dream: the May parliamentary elections did not produce the desired change.

A senior figure opposed to Hezbollah speaks of indiscriminate crimes and the infiltration of clans and many more... He even tells about a man “disciplining” his brother who tried to extort the party.

Iran is also strongly present through photos of its spiritual leader, Ali Khamenei, or through blue boards that resemble village nameplates, filling the corners along the roads in Hermel and carrying the words: “The Iranian people in the service of the Lebanese people.”



Lebanon's Public Schools Reopen amid War and Displacement

Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)
Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)
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Lebanon's Public Schools Reopen amid War and Displacement

Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)
Children playing in a shelter center for displaced people in the town of Marwaniyah in South Lebanon (AP)

In the quiet seaside town of Amchit, 45 minutes north of Beirut, public schools are finally in session again, alongside tens of thousands of internally displaced people who have made some of them a makeshift shelter.

As Israeli strikes on Lebanon escalated in September, hundreds of schools in Lebanon were either destroyed or closed due to damage or security concerns, according to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA).

Of around 1,250 public schools in Lebanon, 505 schools have also been turned into temporary shelters for some of the 840,000 people internally displaced by the conflict, according to the Lebanese education ministry.

Last month, the ministry started a phased reopening, allowing 175,000 students - 38,000 of whom are displaced - to return to a learning environment that is still far from normal, Reuters reported.

At Amchit Secondary Public School, which now has 300 enrolled students and expects more as displaced families keep arriving, the once-familiar spaces have transformed to accommodate new realities.

Two-and-a-half months ago, the school was chosen as a shelter, school director Antoine Abdallah Zakhia said.

Today, laundry hangs from classroom windows, cars fill the playground that was once a bustling area, and hallways that used to echo with laughter now serve as resting areas for families seeking refuge.

Fadia Yahfoufi, a displaced woman living temporarily at the school, expressed gratitude mixed with longing.

"Of course, we wish to go back to our homes. No one feels comfortable except at home," she said.

Zeina Shukr, another displaced mother, voiced her concerns for her children's education.

"This year has been unfair. Some children are studying while others aren't. Either everyone studies, or the school year should be postponed," she said.

- EDUCATION WON'T STOP

OCHA said the phased plan to resume classes will enrol 175,000 students, including 38,000 displaced children, across 350 public schools not used as shelters.

"The educational process is one of the aspects of resistance to the aggression Lebanon is facing," Education Minister Abbas Halabi told Reuters

Halabi said the decision to resume the academic year was difficult as many displaced students and teachers were not psychologically prepared to return to school.

In an adjacent building at Amchit Secondary Public School, teachers and students are adjusting to a compressed three-day week, with seven class periods each day to maximize learning time.

Nour Kozhaya, a 16-year-old Amchit resident, remains optimistic. "Lebanon is at war, but education won't stop. We will continue to pursue our dreams," she said.

Teachers are adapting to the challenging conditions.

"Everyone is mentally exhausted ... after all this war is on all of us," Patrick Sakr, a 38-year-old physics teacher, said.

For Ahmad Ali Hajj Hassan, a displaced 17-year-old from the Bekaa region, the three-day school week presents a challenge, but not a deterrent.

"These are the conditions. We can study despite them," he said.