Inside a Land of Great Charm and Even Greater Chaos

By Ziad Doueiri/Beirut

There is something enigmatic about Beirut. It is the tension between old cultures and new ideas, the contrast between the chaos from an absence of government and the day-to-day freedom that results. Beirut has never had an adequate infrastructure or careful planning. Fifteen years of civil war did not help either. Yet things limp along--how, no one really knows. The country has tax laws but no effective collection system, yet all government workers get paid. Street signs and numbers are erratic. If you ask, "Where is the IBM shop?" you will hear something like this: "Find the old Swiss Pastry Shop that was bombed in 1978, go across the street, turn right at the Pepsi-Cola sign; make a left where Ali's Java Shack is; go into the car dealership and ask them; they will tell you where the IBM shop is."

I once wrote my dad a letter and estimated it would take two months to arrive. It never did. "Which address did you send it to?" Dad asked. "Our home, Hamra Street, Concord Building, eighth floor, across from Saint John's Church," I told him. "Of course I didn't get it," he said. "They bombed the church." Europeans seem to agree that Lebanon is a special case. In the 1960s a group of experts was commissioned to study Lebanon's economy. Their conclusion: We have no idea how the country works, but we recommend that no changes be made.

Beirut is trying to outgrow these "quaint" imperfections. The country's tumultuous civil war brought invading armies, marauding militias and enough political intrigues to make Watergate seem demure. But the country has a new chance now with an Israeli withdrawal on the horizon. It is a moment to watch.

Lebanon is a country about the size of Connecticut with 4 million inhabitants. It produces not a drop of oil, has no mineral resources and manufactures no weapons of mass or minor destruction. And though the land is often convulsed by TV-worthy violence that lands it a slot on the American news, Lebanese have never stopped finding ways to live their lives. To withstand the punishments of centuries of invaders and civil wars, the Lebanese have evolved into a species that not only adapts to but takes advantage of all that is broken. The rebuilding of shredded downtown Beirut is a testament to the Lebanese will not only to survive but to do it in style.

I have lived in some quite frenetic cities, yet Beirut is the only place where chaos is the order of the day. There is no privacy in this city. For one thing, friends and family drop by unannounced. You will always bump into someone you know, whether at a bar, in a shop or on the streets. A couple of years ago, while scouting a location for a film, I got stuck at a very busy intersection. I considered making a U-turn to avoid gridlock. I asked the traffic officer if it was O.K.

Traffic Officer: If you want.

ZD: I do, but is it legal?

TO: Give it a try.

ZD: Yes, but are you going to give me a ticket?

TO: The only way to find out is to try.

ZD: Well, how do I know you won't give me a ticket?

TO: That's right, no one knows except Allah himself.

So I made the U turn, and the officer blew his whistle. "Pull to the side!" he yelled.

ZD: I guess Allah decides to give me a ticket.

TO: My friend, Allah does not give tickets. I do.

I produced my California driver's license and my U.S. passport.

ZD: So you live in Los Angeles? How long?

ZD: Fifteen years.

TO: And what do you do?

ZD: I work in film.

TO: Like what kind of film?

ZD: Films, you know, like Hollywood films, nothing you would recognize.

TO: Why do you say I don't know?

ZD: O.K., I worked on a film called Pulp Fiction. Have you heard of it?

TO: YOU KNOW TRAVOLTA?

He summoned other traffic officers, who hurry over.

TO: Check this out. The gentleman knows Travolta!

Questions and comments poured in. "So, how is Johnny? We like Travolta, he is good people? What is he like, nice? Does he like Arabs?"

ZD: I didn't ask him if he likes Arabs.

TO: We apologize for keeping you. We'll clear a path for you.

ZD: Thank you. Perhaps you can fix the traffic now.

TO: My friend, the traffic can take care of itself.

So can Lebanon. We hope.

Ziad Doueiri grew up in Lebanon. He is the director of the award-winning West Beirut--a film set during the Lebanese civil war. He has also worked on Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs and From Dusk Till Dawn