Lebanese society

Water > Hear > Lebanese society

	I wish I could plug you into a Matrix-like software so that you could get a proper taste of Lebanese society. In the absence of that, the best I can do is try and extract everything I can think of from it and put it into words. Here is my overview; the links to the left lead to articles that go into much more detail. The Lebanese don't like rules. They are reluctant to let a third party impose a way of conduct on them. In all situations, for good or bad, they prefer to rely on their own judgement rather than look up what the law says. Perhaps it is a habit taken during the war, when chaos reigned and there was no higher authority to look up to. Maybe it goes back further than that, as they were troublemakers under the Ottoman Empire already. What's certain is that their self-reliance lets them solve almost any situation one way or the other. Resourcefulness and wits are what the Lebanese are best know for in the Middle-East, but to be frank, that does not necessarily mean an honest use of them. It does mean however that except for very old men, you'll never see a Lebanese beggar. They will work, they will cheat if they're the dishonest kind, but they will not sink to what they consider a disgrace. The art of "finding a way" also accounts for the success achieved by Lebanese emigrants anywhere. Now emigration is another local "thing". There are perhaps as many as 23 million Lebanese outside Lebanon, almost 8 times as many as there are living in the homeland. It is a strange paradox that a population so deeply rooted to its land should be so willing to leave it. That's not exactly what happens, however. The largest part leave to study abroad, or work there so they can send money back to their family: such a small market as ours only offers proportional opportunities. A great many have fled during the war; twenty years later, they are too afraid to be heart broken at what they might find to return. A lot are settled outside now, with a family and career that prevent them from returning; many others are probably happy to be away. Yet an overwhelming number reports that they just want to come back, and a lot are doing just that, despite the precarious political situation and economical crisis.
.	Lebanon has a long history of give-and-take with other cultures, doubtlessly the longest in the world, as it was the first nation to reach out in friendship rather than in conquest. Even now it is, contrary to misinformation, a peaceful, even debonair nation where people dislike aggressivity, made up of many different communities. The latter can be divided religiously: the Christians, made up mostly of Maronites and Orthodox but also of Protestants, etc; the Muslims, divided into Sunni and Shi'a among others; the Druzes. In all, there are 18 recognized religions of which these are the dominant ones. Yet the division is actually more complicated than that. There is for example a French-speaking community that made up the elite of the population before the war; an English-educated group that first started when English was introduced during the war, and is growing at a rapid rate; an Armenian subculture gathering the refugees from the Turkish genocide, whose first language is Armenian; a similar group of Palestinian refugees who were taken in during the war. On the non-Lebanese side you have a community made up of Sri Lankese, Philippino and African immigrants who come to work here, and then you have, or rather had the intruders: with the end of the Syrian occupation in 2005, we are less burdened with illegal immigrants from that country and the insecurity they created in the streets (as they could literally get away with murder at the time).
. About Lebanese food . Other strange things we eat	To the Syrians' distasteful joke that "the most beautiful part of Syria is Lebanon", we answered with jokes of our own. What Belgians are to the French or blondes are to Americans, Syrians (especially the inhabitants of the city of Homs) are to us. Few other populations turn so much to humour in the face of adversity. I tend to think that throughout 4000 years of successive occupations, we'd have been wiped out if we weren't capable of laughing at whatever happens. We also laugh at ourselves, abundantly. We knock on ourselves, on our neighbours, on other religions and countries, and we howl the loudest when the joke is returned on us. We know that teasing is a good-hearted way of showing liking, and we are difficult to offend. Rather, we don't get offended over silly little things. A friend from France, who was visiting here, told me how amazed she was at the way young men talked to her: "They speak to you nicely, they're not angry all the time". If there's something the Lebanese are not, it's stressed out. Of course, the situation right now has everyone nervous, but by nature and anytime we are given a chance, we lay back and enjoy life. Despite the pressures of work, the pace is still slower here than it is in the West, with everyone clearly understanding the notion of "work to live, don't live to work". Beirut has an exceptional nightlife that attracts visitors from all over the world, as we like to have fun and be with friends no matter what. Cinemas, restaurants of every possible sort (54 have opened down town this year alone), clubs, strip clubs, the Casino du Liban are constantly full. We are very fond of good food, not only our own but every possible cuisine, and we like long extended meals that allow us to fully enjoy the presence of our friends. It is not rare for people to set a table up on the sidewalk in front of their shop to have breakfast or lunch as they watch the street activity.
. Coincidences à la Lebanese . Life in Beirut	Lebanese society is intensely social. In sociological terms, it is a group community, rather than an individual one. Anything you do has to take into consideration the ways in which it will affect the family members and family name; anything you do is also everybody's business, as people are inherently nosy. It's not exactly nosiness though, as that implies knowing something is none of one's business but putting one's nose in it anyway. Over here nothing is private unless stated otherwise -- or better yet, unless kept carefully hidden. The grapevine functions with fearsome efficiency, thanks in particular to the spread of the cell phone and to the sobhieh concept -- morning gatherings of women who come to drink coffee together and exchange all the news. It's difficult to be alone if one wants to be, and real privacy is very difficult to obtain. That is however a small price to pay for the kind of social security we have. Like I said above, one is never alone. Whatever happens, there is always someone to help, always someone who knows where you were going, always someone to notice you haven't been heard of for the past few hours. There's always someone who can lend you something you need, get you a job, send you to a doctor friend who can examine you free of charge. Connections rule, we call them "wasayet" (plural of "wasta"). They are unfair, but they are part of the game -- in an informal society such as this, where everybody knows nearly everybody else, things don't function the way they do outside. In these parts, informal business transactions are unacceptable; one doesn't trust a work relation that doesn't become more personal. It is almost unavoidable for it to do so, anyway. I have a client, 30 years older than I, who after a few meetings was already at the stage where she'd pinch my waist and tell me I put on some weight.
. To touch or not to touch	This kind of slight invasion is part of an unconscious social ritual that is a statement of acceptance. To do or say things that in theory only close people would day do or say is to convey that the person is welcome to enter our private space the way we have just entered theirs. Invading this private space by physical touch or by standing very close is, unlike in the West, not an aggression but a mark of liking. We are very fond of physical contact, and we use it to convey not only closeness, but also liking, respect and conciliation. To touch is a natural thing, but it follows intricate unconscious rules.
	Warmth is the most striking feature of the population as a whole, and it also exists in language. The Lebanese vocabulary is bountiful in thanks and blessings, and we use them no less bountifully. We express our appreciation to hard workers by saying, "May God give you flourishing health"; we thank strangers by saying, "God bless these hands"; we part with strangers with the formula "God be with you". Most of these blessings span all the country's religions, although there exist some that are more faith-specific; yet I was more than once blessed "in the name of Jesus the Messiah and Mohammad the Prophet" by a well-meaning soul. This exquisite politeness is seldom feigned: if someone has no patience for you they will be plain rude, even if they are paid to be pleasant.
. Flying elephants and other ways of speaking funny . Your complete guide to cursing and abuse (warning: explicit language) . Talking with the hands . Lebanese proverbs and expressions	Aside from the polite formulas, the language is no less rich in colourful abuse and general daily expression that are hilariously picturesque. My personal favourite is the expression "he/she makes elephants fly", said of someone who tells tall tales. I was sent rolling one day when I said something that sounded impossible and one of my listeners instantly replied "I can hear something REAL HEAVY landing on the roof". Like the rest of the people of the Mediterranean, we have difficulties speaking without using our hands as well -- or even our hands alone in certain situations. An interesting feature of language is that we make liberal use of quotes and proverbs in everyday conversation. In an English conversation, you might sound kind of weird if you suddenly quoted Shakespeare or said "Thou shalt not steal", but it is natural to us, for the love of language itself.
. "Don't present in 3 languages!"	The Lebanese language is highly informal both in form and content. Form-wise, it takes liberties with the rules of Arabic grammar -- probably because it is not entirely a product of Arabic, and it mixes languages outrageously. I always say that if I am speaking normally, I can never end a sentence in the same language I started it. That is no exaggeration. It is a characteristic of Lebanese, and one of the reasons why Arabs have a hard time understanding what we're saying. The other reason is that we use a lot of words that sound Arabic but are actually hybrids from other languages like French, English, Italian, Greek, Turkish, tweaked to fit Arabic structure but totally alien to anyone who is used to proper Arabic.
. The matrix of family names	Content-wise, Lebanese basically addresses everyone as if they were family members, or at least acquaintances. The taxi cab who calls you "sweetheart" and the vendor who addresses you as "darling" are common enough, but it is a national custom to call strangers "uncle", "aunt", "brother", and other family titles (strangely, such addresses are reciprocal, meaning a mother calls her son "mommy", for instance. So on the street grown men call me "uncle"). The family is the nucleus of the culture, and to be social usually involves treating people like family, as this is the friendliest possible gesture towards people who are not your peers. We function on a stubbornly first-name basis for all except the most formal transactions, family names being given mostly to help the listener plot you on the population map that every Lebanese has in mind. Family names are not used to pin down an individual by forming a full name that's more unique than the first name: in social interactions, they are just that, an indicator of the family you belong to. Moreover it is conventional for one's middle name to be the father's first name, which further pinpoints what exact branch of that family you belong to. Sometimes people don't mention their family name at all but just say "son of so and so" (ibn...) or "father of so and so" (abou...).
. A Lebanese wedding . Souk, soap and scents	Obviously the family has great importance, and by that I don't mean just the immediate family: our concept of it includes grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. The extended family brings in second-degree cousins, etc. No matter how much the members spread, there is always a home they consider their "source". It is usually the village of origin, but sometimes even a house. Families are greatly attached to their place of origin and visit it often if possible. Great events such as weddings and Christenings are preferably performed in the village church, no matter how far it may be. This will explain why we are also particularly fond of country traditions and bring them to life at every occasion, even the most westernised of us. Weddings look just like their American or European equivalent, white dress and bouquet and all, except for a bunch of details that come straight from a long tradition and are smoothly integrated to the new one. Traditional crafts, hundreds of years old like olive-oil soap, or thousands of years old like pottery and glassblowing (invented by the Phoenicians), are an integral part of daily life, used either practically or aesthetically. Historical Lebanese dress, the lovely embroidered 3abaye, are difficult to wear daily by now, and so are instead used as robes in the house. In a day and age where Spinney's has opened its doors in Beirut, we still buy our vegetables from vendors who push their carts loaded with fresh greeneries through the streets, straight to our door, and we whistle to them from the balcony before lowering a basket tied to a rope for them to fill with our order.
	One thing that can be said for (or against) Lebanon is that it never ceases to look towards the future: constantly at the point of progress, it sometimes threatens to forget its past, or at least the less concerned part of the population does. Beirut has been the cultural centre of the Middle East since Antiquity: already then, it sported the first Law School in history, and the Greeks and Romans came to study here. Today it is still extremely active and cosmopolitan, hosting cultural and artistic events from all over the world. We have the advantage of a wide exposure to culture: it pours in from Europe, America and the Middle East. We are not only constantly aware of everything that goes on in the rest of the world; we get the information from different sources with different perspectives. Such an opening to the outside makes for a very liberal society considering the area, a paradoxical mix of middle-eastern taboos and western freedom. Men are raised in the idea that women are supposed to obey them; women grow up with a big attitude, full awareness of their natural beauty, and the know-how to bring it out. They're the most fashionable (and scantily clothed) crowd I know -- it's no wonder that visiting men always mention Lebanese women as one of the things that struck them most. There is nothing the West produces that doesn't reach our market, and cell phones in particular are hugely popular. I believe we have the highest density of cell phones in the world (after Finland). That should tell you about the Lebanese love of gimmicks. They are a necessity now though as we don't really have cabin phones, and at the time the cell phone was introduced, the regular phone lines hadn't been completely repaired from the war damage yet. So a lot of people just gave up on phones and got mobiles instead. Being incurable suckers for fashion is just one of the many quirks of the Lebanese. Another famous one is their chronic lack of punctuality. Take my word for it, the Lebanese are always late, and my punctuality can only be due to the French blood in me. If a show is due to start at 8, it means people start coming in at 8:30 and it starts some time after 9. I am a fervent supporter of the idea of locking the door past the announced time -- this threat has actually started to show up on invitation cards in a vain effort to make people come on time. The only real solution is to lie about the time. If you want to start the evening at 9, you tell people that it starts at 8. Then you only have to deal with a few latecomers.
. Driving in Lebanon . Beirut buses or how to commute with style . Old Mercedes retire in Beirut	Less deserved is our reputation for bad driving. Oh, it is fully deserved, but not in the meaning it seems to convey. We are not bad drivers, we are just bad (very bad) at following driving rules. Our skill is unquestionable: we have the mastery of the vehicle, the reflexes, the intimate knowledge of both straight highways and sinuous mountain roads -- everything one would need to participate in a race. We just don't like rules, so we ignore traffic lights, one-way signs and sometimes even, driving on the right side of the road. The first contact of foreigners with Lebanon, since it involves being driven from the airport, is always a source of disbelief. From what I've seen, they are so shocked they forget to be scared. It is even worse if they try to take a bus or a service, these old Mercedes that function somewhat in-between the bus and the taxi.
	Did I say we didn't like rules? It is rigidity we don't like. It is against our religion to get hung up on small details that are meaningless to us. A good example of this is our use of a double currency: the Lebanese Pound and the US Dollar. We use them simultaneously, with the conventional value of $1=LL1500. It doesn't matter what the real rate is, we just simplify. We use dollars exactly as if they were banknotes of LL1500 ($1), 7500 ($5), 30 000 ($20) etc. I can pay either in Lebanese or in $, or in $ complemented by Lebanese, or I can pay in one and be returned change in the other. I remember a few years ago watching a French TV channel around the time when the Euro was invented. People were panicking because there was a difference of a few cents every time an exchange happened, and that would supposedly do something chaotic to the economy. I had to laugh when I thought of all the times we didn't bother with the exact change. We prefer numbers that end in 500; we tend to remove other increments, so that I would either pay less than my bill or pay more just to avoid having to deal with such small change. Sometimes in the supermarket, instead of returning change smaller than LL500 to me, the cashier gives me a cookie. The general attitude goes towards making life easier. I am not sure what all this does to the economy, but here's a famous story. Some years ago a group of Belgian specialists were summoned to analyse the economical situation. They worked day and night for a long time before reporting their results: "We have NO IDEA how your system manages to function, but whatever you're doing, keep doing it." Thus ends my quick (and possibly incomplete) tour of our most outstanding characteristics.