LEBANON: Martrydom and misfortune
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If Times Square embodies the essence of New York, Trafalgar Square that of London and La Place de L’Etoile that of Paris, then the heart of Beirut is Martyrs Square.
During World War I, the occupying Ottoman forces hanged six nationalists in the central Beirut square. Later, a statue, representing these six heroes holding the flame of freedom, was erected at this site to commemorate their sacrifice for the nation. But the martyrs’ statue turned out to be a curse. Ever since this original incident, Beirut has been a factory for ‘martyrs.’
From Hezbollah militants dying in fights along the borders with Israel, to pro-Western politicians assassinated in car bombs, Lebanon has stockpiled the dead. And the martyrs category has grown to encompass a wide range of people.
A blameless child kidnapped and then killed is called a martyr. A passerby who happened to be at a bomb scene is a martyr. A woman blown up in a bus while on her way to buy groceries is a martyr. Former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, assassinated in February 2005, is the most famous martyr. The long-drawn-out 1975-1990 civil war is full of other examples. Their photographs along with lyrical odes to their memories are pasted all over the city.
Beirut sometimes seems to be populated with more spirits of new and old martyrs than with living Lebanese. Whatever your beliefs, your age, your profession, if you die in Lebanon just because you happened to pass by at the time of an explosion, you are immediately branded as a martyr of freedom, independence, resistance or any other political cause.
Recently, the brother of a 27-year-old Lebanese man who died in a car bomb made a cry from the heart on television when he said, “My brother Charles is not a martyr, he’s a victim.” Charles Chikhani, was a dynamic middle-class young man, not really interested in politics, and apparently leading a normal, happy life among his friends and family. He was returning home from work on Sept. 19 when a bomb targeting yet another lawmaker killed him.
A few days later, photos of Charles, a smiling happy man and, for once, a victim and not a martyr, were displayed all over Beirut. A march was organized to honor the memory of Charles, who became the symbol of any ordinary man killed for absolutely no good reason, and not martyred for some cause. On Oct. 3, thousands of people from all backgrounds walked with candles that day in an unprecedented apolitical march, free of slogans.
— Raed Rafei in Beirut