Blogging from Beirut: The Search for 'Humanity'
Blogging from Beirut: The Search for 'Humanity'
By Greg Mitchell
E & P
August 09, 2006
Returning to the saga of Spencer Witte, son of a good friend, who has been blogging from Beirut for FoxNews.com for three weeks now. His latest dispatches reveal deteriorating conditions: "Even if a ceasefire were to come tomorrow, there is a fast approaching humanitarian disaster in Lebanon."
In the nearly three weeks since I last wrote about the son of a good friend who has been blogging from Beirut for Foxnews.com, sadly little has changed.
Hezbollah is still firing rockets into Israeli villages and hillsides, and Israel is still pounding Lebanon, punishing all of the citizens and severely damaging the civilian infrastructure as a humanitarian crisis builds. Brave reporters in the region are sending back honest and first-rate journalism, while editorial pages and pundits, with rare exceptions, raise few objections to the scale of the Israeli attacks. But at least columnist Tom Friedman, after saying not a word against the air strikes for weeks, is now suggesting that Israel ought to consider a ceasefire, for its own good.
In that previous column, I described how the son of my friends Mike and Sally Witte ended up in Beirut, with his girlfriend, at the very start of the bombardment last month. The Wittes happen to know the editor of the Fox News site, and lo and behold, 24-year-old Spencer Witte (another son, Griff Witte, reports for The Washington Post) was asked to blog almost daily as "An American in Beirut."
I've met Spencer a couple of times -- and all of the Wittes appear in my baseball memoir, "Joy in Mudville" -- so I closed that earlier column with a plea that he keep his "head down" (as we used to say in the local Little League). Catching up with his dozen blog entries since then, I can see that he has been doing just that?-he's not in the prime attack zone of South Beirut?-while venturing out often and observing the impact of the bombing on everyone.
Here are a few entries from some of the Spencer Witte blog postings:
*
July 25
I stand out a bit here. Most locals assume I don't speak much Arabic and, even if I did, don't know the area well enough to direct anyone. But each of the last three days, a sedan packed with people, kids sitting on the laps of mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles, has pulled alongside me in hopes I would point them in the right direction.
I have had brief conversations with about 25 of the more than 800,000 people currently displaced in Lebanon. To put that second number in perspective, Lebanon is home to fewer than 4 million people. In just a little over two weeks of fighting, a fifth of the country has picked up, left their homes and escaped uncertainty only to face more of it.
July 26
At this point, I can't honestly say I'm stuck in Beirut. It's more accurate to say I'm trying to stick it out. I chose to be in Beirut, and, at least for now, I'm choosing to stay
..
July 27
Before the war started, Lebanon was regaining its reputation as a safe and worthwhile place to visit, and now that confidence has been dashed. Businesses both small and large are taking huge losses. Vital infrastructure has been destroyed. It will take 10, maybe 15 years to get these things back. An entire country, an entire people's clock has been dialed backwards.
Even given such a depressing reality, there's an attitude here in Beirut that I think many Americans would admire and relate to. It's a resilience ?- a bounce-back, make-it-bigger-and-better-than-before, show-must-go-on resilience that the people of Beirut absolutely share with the American people.
July 28
The sound of approaching planes bring thoughts of approaching death. I look up at the ceiling and wait for it to collapse. I wait for our windows to blow out. In my better moments, I know otherwise, as the chances of this happening are remote. At least for tonight, death is moving elsewhere, to places like Dahiyeh, Beirut's besieged southern suburb
.
While I still felt welcome here as an individual American, the American position on this issue confuses a lot of people I've spoken to. I've heard this dozens of times over the last week. People wonder how America can grant Israel more time and speed them additional weapons while simultaneously offering Lebanon $30 million in aid. One Lebanese man I spoke with yesterday compared it to a schoolyard rumble. America, he said, is on the sidelines yelling, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" but then wants to pat the loser on the back and buy him a lemonade later that evening.
July 31
In talking to people here, it seems to circle back to a sense that the international community has been uncaring and extremely slow to push hard for a ceasefire. We're now coming up on 20 days of conflict between Israel and Hezbollah in Lebanon. Each new sunrise carries the news of mounting deaths of civilians, the loss of their homes, the creation of more displaced people and the deepening of challenges that Lebanon will face after the smoke clears. Each day there are more people caught in the middle whose feelings will harden and whose willingness to forgive will become less likely.
August 1
Over the last several days I've received several hundred e-mails from people who are reading this blog. It certainly hasn't all been fan mail. Words like "human shields," "kidnapped soldiers," "innocent civilians," "katyusha rockets," "U.N. 1559" make appearances and become part of justifications for one action or another. These points can be debated. Heck, they should be debated. They need to be debated. It's healthy.
What should not be questioned, however, is the humanity of the people involved in this conflict. I've received a tiny and troubling minority of e-mails that refer to Hezbollah members, Muslims, Arabs, Israelis and Jews as "rats," "ants," and even "orcs," the monstrous foot soldiers from "The Lord of the Rings." Pushing real people to the level of lowly animals and monsters contributes nothing to understanding the conflict between Israel and Hezbollah in Lebanon. It does nothing to mask the reality that, whatever our political beliefs, humans make up both sides of this conflict and are being motivated to act on the basis of real circumstances and real ideas.
August 2
Two young Lebanese were passing us in a sedan on our right, windows down and music blaring. I recognized the song right away. It was one of Hezbollah's many martial-themed propaganda tunes that play on both their radio and TV station. Bassel glanced over, again flicking his tongue, and turned up the volume of his radio news broadcast. Lebanon's diversity had again shown itself, this time in a fleeting wordless exchange.
August 3
We're now entering our 23rd day of war between Israel and Hezbollah in Lebanon, and I'm beginning my 22nd day in Beirut. It's amazing how quickly human beings seem to adjust to their surroundings. Routines get established around changing realities. I woke up late this morning. The fan was still going, pushing humid, Mediterranean air around a sun-soaked room. The first thing that came to mind was that we still had electricity ?- a welcomed sign since Wednesday had been bad and we were without it for about 18 of 24 hours.
In the last three weeks, I've found that normal moments are possible in wartime. But normalcy is not. Last night, I was readying for bed at 2 a.m. when the bombing resumed in Beirut. The sound is unmistakable, and the heart always skips a beat. The windows shake, as does the hanging lamp, as does the floor. But short of ducking under a table, there's also an awareness that you're essentially helpless to the situation. And so you try to remember your routine; close your eyes, get some sleep and hope the fan is pushing humid Mediterranean air around the room when you wake up in the morning.
August 6
Even if a ceasefire were to come tomorrow, there is a fast approaching humanitarian disaster in Lebanon. The 25 day-old air and sea blockade has been effective and regardless of politics, the fact remains, the entire country is squeezed. The last overland routes to Syria were hit by repeated air raids on Thursday night. Roads that connect the south and north to Beirut have been cut off. Many of the electrical and water lines that run underneath the roads have been destroyed. Food is short. At the current pace, even Lebanon's hospitals will have to close in a week to 10 days for lack of fuel. The situation is urgent.
August 8
Stickers have started popping up all around town. They seem to have a simple message but then again, maybe not. "NO WAR" they read, in bold red print on a pure black background. This sentiment has strong support here in Beirut. It's a call for a cease-fire, a halt to the bloodshed, but not a pointing of fingers. Instead, there have been frequent appeals for unity and remembrance of an all-too-recent civil war that dragged on for 15 years and left more than 100,000 dead across Lebanon. An end to hostilities is something most people here can agree on. How to end hostilities is another issue
.
Shortly after, two loud explosions pierced the air. They were separated by about 10 seconds and shook the storefront windows advertising for ever-deeper sales. A new area of Beirut called Shiyyah had been hit and at least 10 more people were dying beneath new rubble. As I continued my walk down Hamra Street yesterday evening, it was yet another sign of the times.
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Greg Mitchell (
[email protected]) is editor of E&P and first met Spencer Witte when he was about 15.