Beirut: In contrast to the more recent clashes between Internal Security Forces and “#YouStink” and “We Want Accountability” protesters, Riad Al Solh Square witnessed a peaceful gathering on Saturday evening, which saw several thousand Lebanese relive the flea market atmosphere of the pre-civil war era.
Downtown Beirut, once a vibrant marketplace known as “Abu Rakhussa” (a colloquial term that translates as “father of cheap” in reference to street vendors who sold inexpensive items), with an array of open-air stalls, no longer exists in that form. Except, that is, in the imagination of a working class that values traditions and a unique way of life that, regrettably, ended with the Civil War.
The latest protest was prompted by remarks uttered by Nicolas Chammas, the head of the Beirut Traders Association, who warned on Thursday against transforming Downtown Beirut into a new Abu Rakhussa and called on demonstrators to leave the district because they were “cheapening” it.
“The commercial central district will remain as classy as it currently is, and will remain a hub and destination to the whole Arab world,” Chammas said. Although the wealthy merchant maintained that his words were taken out of context, they now haunt him, because the disparity between the merchant and working classes is now greater than at any previous time.
Even if unintentionally, Chammas rekindled the growing schism that has come to separate the Lebanese, who once co-habited this truly glamorous city and could tolerate the wealth gap that separated them.
Before the 1975-1990 Civil War, Downtown Beirut was a bustling district, heavily populated by street vendors who were all replaced by high-end shops under the reconstruction master-plan, known as Solidere, a development company established by former prime minister Rafik Hariri. Spanning nearly 200 hectares of prime real estate in the heart of the city, this impressive rebuilding pushed out hundreds of working-class tenants and transformed the avenues Weygand, Foch, and Allenby — ironically still carrying the names of colonial officers who ruled parts of the Middle East — into replicas of Fifth Avenue in New York or the Champs-Elysees in Paris.
“We Want Accountability” campaign spokesperson George Azar was thus on target when he affirmed that “the economic issues [that led to the collapse] of this country started in the 1990s, not because of us,” highlighting the fact that so few benefitted from the post-Civil War reconstruction.
The activist movement posted on its Facebook page: “We want to hold accountable everyone who robbed this country..., and we want to reclaim Downtown Beirut for the people ... Al Burj Square and the markets are coming back,” referring to the name that Martyrs’ Square was once known as.
On Saturday, dozens of booths selling everything from sweets and drink to literature and clothing packed Riad Al Solh Square, now transformed into Beirut’s political epicentre on account of its strategic location in front of the Grand Serail [Government House] and abutting Nijmeh Square where parliament is located, leading banks, and several ministries.
Those who attended the “Abu Rakhussa” wished to reclaim Downtown Beirut from men like Nicolas Chammas, who labelled protestors “communists” allegedly for exploiting recent demonstrations to advance their agendas and “drift the movement away from its path”. His “warnings” to civil society movements did not sit well, and the choice of poorly articulated words — “there are people who are even more dangerous [than rioters]: these are the economic charlatans, the remaining communists, the residues of communism and Marxism who even Russia and China have spit out” — tipped the balance of power.
“We want to thank ‘Chammas Abu Rakhussa’ for giving us this idea in order to deliver a message to people that they have the ability to head to Downtown Beirut and buy cheap stuff,” an activist affiliated with “We Want Accountability” told the Al Jadeed television network. On Saturday evening, colourful vendors sold homemade goods, in a peaceful atmosphere. One, wearing a hammer-and-sickle necklace, hawked sweets baked by her mother. Another traded lemonade and labelled politicians and businessmen in Lebanon as “thieves,” accusing them of running a mafia. “They are splitting us [like trophies]... but we want to build our country, not give them this pleasure,” he told the camera.
