Lebanon's Fairouz: The Arab World's Most Celebrated Living Voice

Lebanese icon Fairouz. (AFP)
Lebanese icon Fairouz. (AFP)
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Lebanon's Fairouz: The Arab World's Most Celebrated Living Voice

Lebanese icon Fairouz. (AFP)
Lebanese icon Fairouz. (AFP)

The Arab world's last living music legend Fairouz, who French president Emmanuel Macron is to visit Monday in Beirut, is a rare symbol of national unity in crisis-hit Lebanon.

Since the death of Egyptian diva Umm Kulthum in 1975, no Arab singer has been so profoundly venerated as 85-year-old Fairouz -- a stage name that means "turquoise" in Arabic.

For decades, she captivated audiences everywhere from her native Beirut to Las Vegas, including the grand Olympia in Paris and the Royal Albert Hall in London.

She has sung of love, Lebanon and the Palestinian cause, in ballads that have revolutionized Middle Eastern music.

Fairouz is "certainly one of the greatest Arab singers of the 20th century," expert in Middle Eastern music Virginia Danielson told the New York Times in 1999.

When she sang, she appeared as if in a trance: eyes glazed over, expression stoic, small smiles flashing quickly across her face.

"If you look at my face while I am singing, you will see that I am not there, I am not in the place," she told the New York Times in a rare interview.

"I feel art is like prayer."

Fairouz has been dubbed "our ambassador to the stars" by her compatriots -- not just for her celestial voice, but because she is a rare symbol of unity for a country bitterly divided by a 15-year civil war.

‘I love you, oh Lebanon’
Born Nouhad Haddad in 1934 to a working class family, she studied at the national music conservatory as a teenager.

During her time with the Lebanese state radio choir, composer Halim al-Roumi nicknamed her Fairouz and introduced her to composer Assi Rahbani, whom she married in 1955.

Fairouz, Assi, and his brother Mansour revolutionized traditional Arabic music by merging classical Western, Russian and Latin elements with eastern rhythms and a modern orchestra.

Fairouz shot to fame after her first performance at the Baalbek International Festival in 1957.

Her reign as the queen of Arabic music was partly thanks to her championing the Palestinian cause, including "Sanarjaou Yawman" or "We Shall Return One Day", an elegy to Palestinians exiled by the creation of Israel in 1948.

The star is an immortal icon in her native Lebanon.

Many of her most popular songs are nostalgic odes to pastoral times. Others are poems by the likes of Lebanese legends Gibran Khalil Gibran and Said Aql that are set to music.

She has largely disappeared from public life in recent years, but her soaring voice remains ubiquitous, blaring every morning from radios in street cafes and taxis.

"When you look at Lebanon now, you see that it bears no resemblance to the Lebanon I sing about, so when we miss it, we look for it through the songs," the diva told the New York Times.

Fairouz also won national acclaim for remaining in Lebanon throughout the country's civil war from 1975 to 1990, and for refusing to side with one faction over another.

Tens of thousands of people swarmed her first post-war concert, in 1994 in Beirut's downtown.

"I love you, oh Lebanon, my country, I love you. Your north, your south, your valley, I love you," she croons in one of her most well-known songs.

Political, family controversies
Fairouz is famously protective of her personal life.

"When she wants to, she can be really funny. She's also a distinguished chef. Very humble, she loves serving her guests herself," journalist Doha Chams, her press officer, told AFP.

But she hates "the invasion of her private life".

Fairouz had four children with husband Assi Rahbani, who died in 1986.

Their daughter Layal died at a young age of a brain hemorrhage, their son Hali is disabled, and Rima, the youngest, films and produces her mother's concerts.

Her eldest son, Ziad, followed in the footsteps of his father and uncle as a musician and composer.

Fairouz worked closely with Ziad – an iconic artist in Lebanon in his own right -- to compose songs with a jazz influence.

The Lebanese star's recent past has been marked by a string of family and political controversies.

In 2008, when Lebanese political factions were fiercely divided over support for the regime in neighboring Syria, Fairouz performed in Damascus.

Two years later, the Lebanese judiciary prevented her from singing tunes co-written by the Rahbani brothers without the authorization of the sons of her brother-in-law Mansour.

Fairouz spent several years without new material until 2017, when her daughter Rima produced her last album, "Bibali".



Iranians in Europe Share ‘Mixed Feelings’ on Israel Offensive 

Smoke billows from an explosion in Tehran on June 16, 2025. (AFP)
Smoke billows from an explosion in Tehran on June 16, 2025. (AFP)
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Iranians in Europe Share ‘Mixed Feelings’ on Israel Offensive 

Smoke billows from an explosion in Tehran on June 16, 2025. (AFP)
Smoke billows from an explosion in Tehran on June 16, 2025. (AFP)

As Israel and Iran trade fire in their most intense confrontation in history, members of the Iranian diaspora in Europe are torn between hopes for change and fears for their loved ones back home.

In Frankfurt, Hamid Nasiri, 45, a product developer at a pharmaceutical company, said he had "mixed feelings" about the fighting, started by Israel on Friday after weeks of tensions over Iran's nuclear program.

Like many Iranians in Europe, he sees Israel's offensive as a chance to topple the Iranian leadership under Ali Khamenei -- long accused of human-rights abuses and brutally repressing dissent.

"On the one hand, Israel's actions are specifically directed against the government, which is itself known for its brutal methods. That gives me a certain hope," Nasiri said.

"At the same time, I naturally mourn for the people of Iran. When women, children and now scientists are killed, I find that morally very disturbing," he said.

"Many are caught between hope for change and horror at what is happening right now," said an Iranian teacher based in Frankfurt who did not want to give her name.

She has not been able to reach a friend living in northern Tehran since Friday.

In London, around a dozen members of the Iranian diaspora gathered in front of the Iranian embassy on Monday.

Some were waving Israeli flags, others the flag of the Pahlavi dynasty -- the ruling house of Iran until the revolution in 1979.

Psychology student Maryam Tavakol, 35, said she supported Israel's assault.

"There is no freedom in Iran, no human rights... We support each act that makes the republic weaker," said Tavakol, who left Iran in 2019 and has been living in the UK for two years.

But Ali, 49, a restaurant worker living in London who did not want to give his last name, said he would prefer the arch rivals to "sit down and speak to each other".

"(I have) never supported the Iranian regime, I don't like the regime," said Ali, who left Iran in 1997.

"(But) who will suffer? The people... I don't support anyone who harms kids and people. I'm really upset," he said.

"We still have family and friends in Iran, Tehran," said Paria, 32, another London restaurant worker.

"They are fleeing to the north. We are really worried for them."

Israel on Friday launched a surprise aerial campaign targeting sites across Iran, saying the attacks aimed to prevent its enemy from acquiring atomic weapons.

Iran's uranium enrichment has for decades caused tension with the West and Israel, which fear the drive is aimed at making an atomic bomb, a charge denied by Tehran.

The Israeli strikes have so far killed at least 224 people, including top military commanders, nuclear scientists but also civilians, according to Iranian authorities.

Iran's retaliatory strikes on Israel have so far killed 24 people, according to Israeli authorities.

Hamidreza Javdan, a 71-year-old actor and director originally from Tehran and now living in Paris, said the Iranian diaspora was "divided" over the conflict.

"Some say 'no one has the right to attack our country', others think it's a good thing," he said.

Javdan said he was "hopeful" for a change of government, but also fears for his brother, who is disabled and unable to quickly leave Tehran.

"And there are more than 10 million people in Tehran, where are they going to go?" he said.

In Berlin, an Iranian translator who wanted to remain anonymous said she felt "torn" over Israel's attacks.

"I hope so much that this war will overthrow the mullah regime. I wish for that so much. Then all the deaths would not have been in vain," she said.