Engaging the Future: Learning From Hate

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Before 1975, Beirut, the capital of Lebanon was a thriving cosmopolitan city known to many as the "Riviera of the Middle East." The government, created after gaining independence from France in 1943, managed a delicate balance between its diverse population of Christians, Muslims, and a dwindling number of Jews. By the late 1970s and 80s,however, Lebanon had become synonymous with war and ethnic violence. The violence that scarred the country altered not only the physical landscape, destroying a much-admired capital, but the lives of nearly everyone in the country.

Beginning in 1948, tensions over the founding of the state of Israel were exacerbated by a series of wars between the new nation of Israel and its Arab neighbors, including Lebanon. As a result, populations shifted throughout the region. By the 1970s Lebanon's population was changing. Muslims made up 60 percent of Lebanon's population and the addition of 300,000 Palestinian refugees, who had been expelled from Jordan, placed new stresses on the political structure. While the Muslim community advocated for increased political representation in Lebanon, the Palestinian Liberation Organization, operating out of Southern Lebanon, used terror and violence in an ongoing war against Israel in order to create a Palestinian state. In April 1975, 26 Palestinians were killed on a bus in a retaliatory attack for an attempted assassination of Pierre Gemayel, a Christian leader. Before long, the country divided along ethnic and religious lines. The central government was unable to control the violence, and extremist leaders on all sides of the conflict organized militias - often with the support of outside forces including Israel and Syria - to carry the battle to the streets. Civil war broke out.

Hicham Chehab, a journalist and a peacemaker, describes what is what was like to grow up in war-torn Lebanon:

Since my early childhood, I became aware that the world I lived in was divided along sectarian lines. Playing in the few green fields left among the growing "forest of cement" - Beirut in the early 1960s - I realized that those boys who had different names, like Pierre and Elias, were Christians. And boys like me, with Arabic names, or a name that sounded, or combined words like those that the Muezzins chanted from the minarets (Muhammad and Allah), were Muslims. Those boys, with French or Western names, used to side with each other, in any quarrel that took place, irrespective of what was right or wrong. In those days, a brawl over marbles used to lead to a fight between the Muslim boys and the Christian boys. Two incidents I remember clearly. The first, was when a cousin of mine chased a Christian boy to beat him up. In his attempt to escape, the "cowardly" Christian scampered across the street and was run down by a car. We did not see him back then for weeks. Nobody was sorry for him. "Allah has punished him," we thought, "He had it coming."

The second incident was when Pierre, the youngest brother of the wounded boy, appeared from nowhere and banged me on the head with a piece of wood that had a protruding nail, and ran away. I could not remember why he attacked me then. But I still remember how a teenage cousin of mine dragged me home, weeping with blood trickling down my face. I was six or seven then, and did not understand the reasons behind their animosity towards us. But I still have the scar of that attack on my upper forehead. I was only thirteen when an extremist Muslim group recruited me, two years before the Lebanese civil war broke out. I was "able" then, as I thought, in the ranks of that faction, to "comprehend" the big picture of the sectarian community we were living in, in the 1970s.

My late eldest brother (less than 15) and I (13) were first attracted to that faction by a group of teenagers studying the Qur'an in the mosque in our neighborhood. Kemal was bright and educated, and drew our attention to the political privileges that the Christians, the minority, had in Lebanon, and the grievances of the Muslims, the majority. He asserted how shameful it was for the descendants of the Caliphs who ruled the world, to have a Christian president. We understood then that we were second-class citizens in our homeland, and deprived from our full rights. We were denied the top positions in the government and had no clout in any public sector. We felt that our rituals and holidays were not respected. Christmas and Easter were celebrated in the official media, while our holidays went unnoticed. All the conditions around us smacked of a "conspiracy" by the West, Israel, and the Lebanese Christians.

In 1973, I was taken to a military training camp. In that training camp, we were told: "If you want to shoot straight, imagine there is a Christian in your sights." Verses from the Qur'an were often invoked to prove that Jihad was an obligation. Preachers often supported their views with fatwahs (verdicts) that date to the Middle Ages, and argued that all Muslims were sinners if they give up the path of Jihad, especially with Muslim lands, like Palestine and the Muslim republics of the (previously) Soviet Union, under occupation. In 1975, as soon as the civil war in Lebanon broke out, I participated in most of the aspects of the war, from shelling Christian neighborhoods to laying in ambush for Christian militias.

Later, I was given a long-range rifle with a powerful telescope and ordered to snipe at people in the Christian part of Beirut. It was a moment of truth when, through my rifle I saw three people running for cover: an old woman and two boys. One of them looked like a cousin of mine. The old woman reminded me of my grandmother. My conscience told me that they were people like us. I refused to follow orders and decided to quit. "No causes are worth the bloodshed," I thought.

Later I joined a Muslim clerical school to study Islam properly. I discovered that I had been taught ideological Islam in the extremist group, not Islam as a religion. I discovered that a Muslim cannot be an observing Muslim if he does not believe in Jesus and his message, and respect the Christians.

Later I went to college. A course of civilization sequence was required. It included the Qur'an and the Bible. The Qur'an I had known then by heart, but the Bible was a new thing to me. I discovered that my countrymen who were fighting us were not good Christians. And we, the Lebanese Muslims, were not good Muslims in our attitude towards them. Let me confess that we, the Muslims and the Christians in Lebanon, in our double-talk and stereotypes of each other, encouraged a culture of hate, not a culture of tolerance; and that culture of hate led to the civil war that destroyed our country.1

Since the end of the civil war, Chehab has done what he can to help build a culture in which differences can be accepted and understood in a country where contact with Israelis is discouraged. In 1992 Chehab founded a human rights organization that works to create opportunities for dialogue between Lebanon's many ethnic and religious groups. He is also an educator whose classes emphasize tolerance and pluralism. Using his position as a journalist he uses his frequent newspaper columns to condemn violence, terrorism, and intolerance. In the fall of 2003, he went one step further and founded a newspaper with which he hopes to expose his readers to writers from diverse backgrounds and points of view, including Christians and Jews.

Chehab explains:

I believe that education, equal opportunities, and justice have become matters not only of national security but also international security. I hope that all educators will look for common ground among the races and faiths....There is a reconciliatory verse in the Qur'an that a great Muslim scholar believes that Muslims should heed: "Believers, Jews, Christians, and Sabaens, whoever believes in the Last Day and does what is right, shall be rewarded by the Lord. They have nothing to fear or regret."

Connections
Below is an identity chart for a High School student from the United States.

Using this model, create an identity chart for Hicham Chehab. What labels does she use to describe herself? Which labels might others attach to her?

Create an identity chart for yourself. Begin with the words or phrases that describe the way you see yourself. Add those words and phrases to your chart. Compare your chart with those of your classmates. Which categories were included on every chart? Which appeared on only a few charts? As you look at other charts, your perspective may change. You may wish to revise your chart and add new categories to those you have already included. This activity allows you to see the world through multiple perspectives. What labels would others attach to you? Do they see you as a leader or a follower? A conformist or a rebel? Are you a peacemaker or a bully? Or a bystander? How do society's labels influence the way you see yourself and the kinds of choices you make each day?

When does tolerance break down between groups? How are ethnic and religious differences used to turn neighbor against neighbor?

How does growing up amidst ethnic and religious violence influence the way people see themselves and others? What questions does Chehab's story raise about a society that surrounds children with discrimination, hatred, and injustice?

Psychologists believe that peace is possible when people are able to transform suffering into a force that enables them to see the common humanity among people. How does one accomplish this? What obstacles stand in the way?

Why do you think Chehab believes "that education, equal opportunities, and justice have become matters not only of national security but also international security?"

Chehab uses his position as a journalist to expose intolerance. What is the role of a journalist in a civil society? Why is an independent press essential to democracy?

In Lebanon, many journalists have been attacked, with both words and physical violence, for writing about the very subjects Chehab takes on. What do people hope to accomplish by attacking journalists? Why is a free press vital to the health of a country?

Chehab quotes what he describes as a "reconciliatory verse in the Qur'an." What is reconciliation? When is reconciliation desirable? What makes it so difficult to achieve? What role can people like Hicham Chehab play in making reconciliation possible?

To learn more about the Lebanese civil war, its echoes and legacies and the rise of religious extremism, visit the website for the Frontline story Lebanon -The Party of God at http://www.pbs.org/frontlineworld/stories/lebanon/index.html.

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