A restoration of peace and tolerance

Wadi Abu Jmil, Beirut. Something is happening, something big, something exceptional. In the middle of down-town Beirut, between the newly opened Beirut Souks and the Hotel district where chains like the Four Seasons have already welcomed thousands of tourists, a quiet revolution is happening. A synagogue is being renovated.

A Jewish place of worship is being restored in a country where anti-Semitism is unfortunately anchored in a considerable part of the population. It is a place where slogans like “death to the Zionist enemy” are chanted by militiamen who see themselves as resistant fighters with a holy purpose. Misconceptions concerning the “other side” are often left uncorrected and, more dangerously, are encouraged. Needless to say then that such an event is quite astonishing, and mostly promising. The synagogue, built in the 1920s, was mostly destroyed by the Israeli bombings of West Beirut during the 1982 invasion. Today it is brought back to life, and now bears a message of tolerance. No one has opposed its reconstruction, not even the Hezbollah, who considers its sole purpose to be fighting the “Zionist occupier”.

Can this therefore be a step forward towards acceptance of the other, and also a hope for peace? Sceptics will say no, it cannot be. This renovation is as futile as it is meaningless. The Jewish community has long fled Beirut. Most Jewish Lebanese living abroad do not consider ever coming back. Even though the majority cherished the life they had in Beirut, all unanimously agree that Jews have no future there. In fact, the few who stayed have mostly burnt any proof of their religious affiliations, and try to attract as little attention to themselves as possible; they have learned to hide.

The latest visit of President Ahmadinejad certainly did not give them any hope. During his two-day stay in Lebanon, the Iranian head of state made it clear in a speech given in Bint Jbeil, a southern town bordering Israel, that “the Zionist enemies” will disappear, and that his country fully supports the efforts the Hezbollah and the Lebanese people put in the annihilation of Israel.

Who can therefore say that, in a country where such a controversial figure is so cheerfully welcomed, hope for peace and tolerance can be found?  However, amid the thrill and exhilaration that this visit has caused in several areas in the country, many Lebanese have voiced their concerns about its repercussions and the image it gives of the country. They have had enough of bitter conflicts and destructive wars, and are now seeking peace. Hope for a more tolerant nation is therefore slowly building up. And Wadi Abu Jmil is proof of this. The renovation of the synagogue is a sign that the Lebanese are ready to accept the Jewish community that was once loved and respected in the city. Wadi Abu Jmil should then be seen as the first successful battle in the war against hatred.  The next steps will hopefully include the removal of the ban on movies like Schindler’s List and From Beirut to Jerusalem, and books like the Diary of Anne Frank. And maybe, some day, one day, in the distant future, anyone will be able to freely and publicly embrace their religion without fear of persecution in a city that is slowly becoming the Paris of the Middle East.

In a few months, in the middle of Beirut, not far from where the Palestinian Liberation Organisation started plotting the destruction of the state of Israel in the mid-70s, a synagogue will emerge as an emblem of the fight against discrimination and obscurantism. Let’s hope this time, it actually wins that war.

s.saade@warwick.ac.uk