Le Merle

I have a BA in graphic design and an MFA in illustration. My illustrations reflect on social, political and environmental issues. I enjoy illustration as a tool because it is a non-verbal form of communication that transcends language barriers and can be more direct and emotionally resonant than text. I have had different sources of inspiration, among them illustrators such as Milton Glaser, David Gentleman, Paul Hogarth, Ben Shahn, Tomi Ungerer, Ralph Steadman, and Ronald Searle.

At first, I asked people I knew, such as family, friends, and acquaintances. I also contacted sources from the literature I was reading. Some people suggested that I talk to their family and friends, and the number of participants grew to over 60. It all evolved at its own pace. Beirut is such a small town that everyone knows everyone.

I also walked all over Beirut and spoke to people on the street, at the beach, in shops, and in gardens. I talked to security guards, army personnel and municipality guards. Sometimes they would notice me drawing or taking photos and ask me what I was doing, and sometimes I would approach them and ask them a question, usually leading to long conversations.

I would explain what I was working on, and they
would spend the next few hours taking me around their neighbourhood. It was a fluid way to meet people and get them to talk about the city. Many expressed how happy they were that I was reminding them of Beirut in a better light after so much political turmoil, and how no one had ever asked them before to share their memories. This project opened up new avenues for research and discussion about the complexities of collective memory, especially in divided societies, particularly in the materiality of built environments within the intricate context of Beirut.

Oral history and storytelling are extremely important in the context of Beirut’s rich and turbulent past, as well as its prospective future. In a neoliberal environment where all historical aspects of Beirut, its culture, its architecture and its social fabric are being erased by a political class that prefers to privatize public spaces, oral history serves as a conduit for the voices of previous generations.

It allows us to learn about communities through
their own stories, preserving the city’s traditions, customs, and people’s lived experiences through spoken words and personal narratives. These stories establish a sense of belonging among Beirut residents of all backgrounds and ethnicities. In a city as diverse and divided as Beirut, storytelling helps develop shared narratives that transcend cultural and generational boundaries.

Oral history puts the collective memory of Beirut’s past at its centre. It is a testament to the city’s tenacity in the face of civil war, political turmoil, and restoration. These memories are more than just recollections; they lay the groundwork for reconciliation and understanding. By revisiting narratives of recovery and restoration, residents of Beirut can rethink the city’s potential for a brighter future.

These narrative traditions are more than just
modes of communication or historical records; they are living manifestations of the city’s cultural and historical identity. They represent the soul of Beirut, a place where past and future collide in an ongoing story. It is important for me to portray Beirut as having a soul. The soul of a city can be lost but it is in these stories that it can be revived.

The Lebanese Civil War, as well as the later reconstruction period, had a deep and long-lasting impact on Beirut’s metropolitan landscape. This time period was marked by “urbicide,” or the intentional destruction of the city’s built environment. The fighting took its toll on neighbourhoods, historic landmarks, and key infrastructure, resulting in significant destruction and a fragmented urban landscape and society.

Post-war reconstruction in Beirut was marked by exclusionary political programs that prioritized the interests of powerful elites and international investors. The reconstruction was geared towards tourists and the elite while completely neglecting the city’s residents and their social fabric, which had been obliterated after 15 years of war. As a result, Beirut’s rich tapestry of various heterogeneous groups was decimated.

As political elites and foreign interests vied for control, the city’s sense of common spaces, once vital to its character, faded into the background amidst privatization and development projects in the name of “reconstruction.” Private developers like Solidere purchased large swaths of the city, transforming public spaces into exclusive, high-end developments. ³ As these spaces became securitized and commercial-orientated, the principles of accessible and inclusive community spaces were abandoned.

These developments had far-reaching consequences. They increased social and economic inequality in Beirut, marginalizing lower-income neighbourhoods in particular, barring them from venues that should have been open and welcoming to all. The absence of common areas for all residents was normalized and prevented contact between communities. Residents became acclimated to the idea that there were limited public areas for gathering, interaction, and community-building. The city’s urban fabric evolved to prioritize commercial interests over the well-being and inclusion of its varied groups, perpetuating a sense of political violence and dislocation long after the guns were put down.

In Beirut, the urban system is fundamentally shaped by the social relations of its communities. This perspective recognizes that the city’s identity and function are deeply intertwined with the interactions, social dynamics, and histories of its residents.

The Corniche is a cosmopolitan gathering place where residents of varied backgrounds and communities can be made visible to each other. In a city marked by social and political divisions, the Corniche often acts as neutral ground that most importantly cannot be claimed by any one community as their own. It is a place where residents can come together without the weight of sectarian or political affiliations, promoting a sense of unity and shared identity through common activities. People engage in conversations, picnics, and leisurely activities, creating opportunities for cross-community interaction that might be limited in other urban contexts.

The Corniche has also come to symbolize Beirut’s resilience. It has weathered the challenges of conflict and reconstruction and continues to serve as a testament to the city’s determination to maintain public spaces that encourage interaction and connection. This resilience has preserved the Corniche from exploitation. The installation of parking meters along the Corniche failed due to protests, and projects such as the construction of a 60-meterlong pier have been shelved.

It is important to note that despite its significance, the Corniche does not resolve the broader issues of segregation and division in the city. Beirut remains a city with deeply entrenched social, political, and economic disparities. While the Corniche serves as a space of encounter, it cannot singlehandedly address these structural problems. However, it does provide a symbolic and practical space for residents to bridge divides and celebrate their shared urban identity.

The Civil Campaign for the Protection of Dalieh is a coalition of civil society organizations and concerned individuals that has played a critical role in advocating for the Dalieh’s protection. They have employed a range of tactics, including awareness campaigns, public engagement, and legal actions to challenge development plans that could harm the site. Also known as the “Save the Dalieh” campaign, it has been a prominent movement dedicated to protecting the Dalieh of Raouche, a coastal area of ecological and cultural value. The campaign has brought together activists, artists, architects, and concerned citizens. They have organized protests, art exhibitions, and cultural events at the site to highlight its importance and to challenge development projects that could threaten its preservation.

Dar Onboz’s Khebez w Meleh (bread and salt)
campaign was created to encourage residents of Beirut to return to the Dalieh for picnics and relaxation. Initially focused on local governance issues, Beirut Madinati (Beirut My City) has evolved into a grassroots political movement that advocates for sustainable urban planning and preservation of public spaces. Their platform includes proposals for improving Beirut’s public spaces, making them more accessible and environmentally friendly.

Grassroots movements have also focused on educational initiatives, such as workshops, lectures, and guided tours. These aim to inform the public about the ecological and cultural significance of public spaces, raising awareness and building a sense of ownership among community members. Often, these grassroots movements collaborate with environmental non-governmental organizations (NGOs) to leverage expertise and resources in advocating for the protection of public spaces. These partnerships strengthen their advocacy efforts and broaden their impact. By mobilizing as independent voices outside dominant political structures, these groups have sought to counter the influence of neoliberal policies on public space and promote a more democratic approach to urban planning.

Reclaiming public spaces involves safeguarding and nurturing the natural environments nestled within urban landscapes. In the case of the Dalieh, the recognition of its geological significance underscores the need to preserve it as a heritage site. Civil society initiatives often focus on public spaces in underserved or marginalized communities. By advocating for the reclamation and revitalization of these spaces, they address concerns of social equity intertwined with environmental justice. This endeavour extends the right to enjoy and experience nature to communities that have been historically excluded. Environmental justice initiatives often aim to bolster resilience in the face of environmental challenges, including the daunting spectre of climate change. Reclaiming public spaces can play a pivotal role in promoting urban sustainability by creating green spaces that enhance community well-being and mitigate environmental risks.

In this context, tanuzah represents a cultural practice deeply ingrained in Lebanese society. It involves the simple yet meaningful act of spending time outdoors, in the open air, often by the sea, and signifies a connection to nature and the communal experience. Before the Lebanese Civil War, tanuzah was a common practice that reflected a way of life where people came together to enjoy the beauty of the outdoors and the company of one another. It was more than a leisurely activity; it was a cultural and social tradition. However, what makes tanuzah especially significant in the context of the Dalieh and similar spaces in Beirut is how this seemingly apolitical practice can transform into an act of political contestation by civil society.

The October 2019 Uprising, or Thawra, was pivotal in inspiring individuals to engage in acts of contestation. It awakened a sense of agency and empowered people to assert their rights, including the right to access and enjoy public spaces. Tanuzah was practiced before the October 2019 Uprising but it increasingly became a collective expression of dissent and political resistance after these events. When people resume the practice of tanuzah and gather to engage in outdoor activities, it symbolizes their unity and determination to reclaim spaces that were once off-limits. In essence, tanuzah and similar practices transcend their cultural and recreational roots to become powerful vehicles of political contestation. They carry profound symbolic meaning, representing the resilience and determination of civil society to assert their rights and advocate for a more inclusive, open society, especially where public spaces are restricted due to political or social factors.

The Laziza Garden in Beirut can be understood within the framework of Henri Lefebvre’s “right to the city”, which emphasizes the principles of inclusive, participatory, and accessible urban spaces. It encompasses two fundamental rights:

Firstly, the right to participate in urban development emphasizes the importance of citizen involvement in shaping urban spaces. In the context of the Laziza Garden, it demonstrates that citizens, even without formal legal approval, can actively shape their urban environment by creating public spaces that cater to their communities’ needs and aspirations. Secondly, the Laziza Garden, as an
unofficial public garden on private property, serves as an example of citizens reclaiming a space that might otherwise remain inaccessible or underutilized. Such occupation challenges traditional notions of ownership and control over urban spaces, asserting the community’s right to utilize and benefit from these areas.

Beirut’s scarcity of public spaces underscores the significance of citizen-led initiatives such as the Laziza Garden. In a city where officially designated public parks and gardens are limited, communities take it upon themselves to create and maintain public spaces that enhance urban life. These initiatives serve both as recreational areas and hubs for social interaction, cultural expression, and community cohesion. It is important to acknowledge that unofficial public spaces often exist in a legal gray area and may encounter challenges related to property rights, land use regulations, and long-term sustainability. Nevertheless, they represent the people’s right to have a say in their city’s development and their capacity to actively shape and utilize urban spaces, even in the absence of formal legal frameworks. The Laziza Garden, in this context, symbolizes grassroots urbanism and reflects the ingenuity of communities in the face of urban challenges. It also highlights the ongoing struggle for more equitable, inclusive, and accessible public spaces in Beirut.

The Thawra or “Revolution” marked a significant shift in the history of public demonstrations in Beirut. Several aspects set it apart from previous protests. The Thawra was notable for its grassroots and non-sectarian character. Unlike previous protests that often aligned with specific sectarian or political groups, the Thawra drew a diverse range of participants from various backgrounds, transcending traditional sectarian divisions. The October 2019 protests were not limited to specific policy demands; they called for fundamental systemic change. Protesters advocated for an end to political corruption, a complete overhaul of the political establishment, and the establishment of a civil, non-sectarian state.

Social media and digital activism played a crucial role in mobilizing and organizing the Thawra. Facebook, Twitter, and WhatsApp were used to coordinate protests and disseminate information to a wide audience. Unlike previous, shorter-lived protests, the Thawra lasted several months. It demonstrated the determination of the protesters to maintain pressure on the government to respond to their demands. Creative forms of expression, including graffiti, music, and art, were prominently featured in the Thawra. They added a compelling dimension to the protests, reinforcing the message of change and hope.

The Thawra also highlighted the importance of public space in Beirut. Martyr’s Square became a symbolic focal point for the protests. Unlike earlier protests, this marked the first time the people expressed grievances about public space in Beirut. They made claims that sites like the Egg and the Grand Theatre, which had fallen into decay during the war, belonged to them and not Solidere. ¹⁰ Protestors began to occupy these spaces, repurposing them to voice their demands and using them to hold lectures and other events.

As a result of the October 2019 Uprising and
the subsequent years of political unrest and economic turmoil, several political movements and parties emerged, reflecting the desire for change and reform in Lebanon. These new political movements positioned themselves as alternatives to the traditional sectarian parties in Lebanese politics.

The Hirak movement is a grassroots, nonpartisan, and non-violent movement that emerged in response to the economic crisis and government corruption. It seeks to mobilize civil society for political and social change. The “You Stink” movement initially started in response to the garbage crisis in Beirut but evolved to encompass broader issues of government accountability and transparency.

Existing political parties, such as the Kataeb Party, also underwent changes, with some members advocating for reform from within established political structures. Also, various civil society organizations and NGOs have become more active in advocating for transparency, good governance, and human rights. These shifts reflect the ongoing struggle for political and social reform in Lebanon, with many citizens seeking an end to corruption, sectarianism, and economic hardship. While these movements have faced significant challenges and obstacles, they represent a sustained effort to transform Lebanon’s political landscape.

Everyone in Lebanon heard the explosion, no matter where they were. My sister had passed by the silos an hour before the blast. It is something that has joined people together in a shared experience of trauma.

After the devastating explosion, several communities and civil society groups emerged to challenge the government’s attempts to obstruct investigations into the blast and demand transparency, justice, and accountability. The families of the victims––people who lost their loved ones in the explosion––formed a powerful and emotionally charged community. They organized protests that continue to this day, demanding justice for their lost family members. Their pleas for truth and justice resonated with many and brought attention to the government’s role in the tragedy. Grassroots activists and protesters played a significant role in mobilizing public opinion against the government. They organized large-scale protests and demonstrations, often focusing on the demand for accountability in the aftermath of the explosion. Various civil society organizations in Lebanon came together to demand transparency and accountability. They conducted investigations, compiled evidence, and pushed for the government to cooperate with international efforts to investigate the explosion.

Legal experts and advocates worked to bring legal challenges to the government’s attempts to obstruct investigations. They pursued accountability for the explosion in both domestic and international courts. Independent journalists and media outlets, such as Megaphone News, played a crucial role in reporting on the explosion and its aftermath, often exposing government negligence and corruption. Their investigative reporting shed light on the situation and pressured the government to cooperate with investigations.

International pressure bolstered the efforts of local communities in challenging the government’s obstruction of investigations. While these communities have made significant strides in challenging government obstruction, the road to achieving full accountability and transparency remains long and arduous, given deeply ingrained political and systemic issues in Lebanon. As long as impunity persists, victims’ families, human rights organizations, and even Lebanese parliamentarians are exploring new avenues to seek justice. These include civil litigation, such as a 2023 British Court ruling that held a London-based company, which supplied the explosive ammonium nitrate to Beirut’s port, liable for the blast victims. There are also repeated appeals for the United Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC) to conduct an international fact-finding mission. Over 40 current Lebanese parliamentarians, along with more than 162 local and international human rights organizations, survivors, and victims’ families, are calling for an international investigation. The victims’ families have been instrumental in moving these efforts forward.

The campaign to save the silos also created a community dedicated to raising awareness about the importance of protecting them from erasure by the ruling class. The campaign has made use of social media, architectural competitions, regular media, and podcasts to emphasize the need to protect the silos. It has stressed the importance of keeping them standing as a witness to the crime of the Beirut port explosion. The campaign coordinators include The Association of the Beirut Port Explosion Victims’ Families, The Families of the
Martyrs of the Beirut Fire Brigade, The Families of the Port Explosion Victims and Martyrs, The August 4th Collective, The Association of the Residents of the Area Affected by the Beirut Blast, The Order of Engineers and Architects, Legal Agenda, LiveLoveLebanon, Public Works Studio, and Group of 25 Heritage Experts.

My Instagram page, The Beirut Silos Memorial Park, explains my thoughts on turning the silos into a memorial. The account serves as a record and document. It is a space to honour those who died and suffered, as well as to advocate for the creation of a memorial using the silos structure.

Drawing connections between the Hiroshima Peace Memorial (Genbaku Dome) and the Beirut port silos can provide useful insights into how the latter can be used to enhance transparency in government and function as a memorial site. The Hiroshima Genbaku Dome is a dramatic emblem of the atomic bomb’s devastation and the perseverance of the people of Hiroshima. Similarly, the Beirut port silos can serve as a devastating icon.

They can help to preserve the memory of the explosion and its aftermath, reminding future generations of the importance of transparency and accountability in governance.

The Hiroshima Peace Memorial is an educational and reflective space where visitors can learn about the bombing’s history and its consequences. The Beirut port silos can be converted into a similar venue where visitors could learn about the 2020 events and the conditions that made them possible. The Genbaku Dome draws tourists from all around the world, raising international awareness of the dangers of nuclear war. It promotes public participation and dialogue to advocate for peace and nuclear disarmament. The Beirut port silos, as a place of remembrance, can foster a global discourse on governance, accountability, and the prevention of such disasters, by drawing attention to these critical issues.