Sad News of the Past Couple of Weeks

Anthony Shadid, two-time Pulitzer prize-winning journalist who specialized in the Middle East, died of an asthma attack leaving Syria for Turkey last week. A Lebanese American from Oklahoma City, Shadid learned Arabic the hard way, in school as a young adult. There have been almost poetic tributes to him throughout the media because his journalism was uniquely insightful, informed as it was by local people, through countless conversations and intrepid reporting from house to house, cafe to cafe, group to group, and battlefront to battlefront. Here is one remembrance by James Zogby. It emphasizes how Shadid privileged the perspectives and experiences of those who live with policy and politics imposed on them, and how they perish or manage to survive. Shadid died less than two weeks ago; already I notice the absence of his in-depth stories in the mainstream media. Here's Zogby's essay, at: http://www.arabamericannews.com/news/index.php?mod=article&cat=OtherOpinions&article=5329&page_order=1&act=print


Anthony Shadid: A man for others
By James Zogby
Friday, 02.24.2012, 04:33am

"New York Times' reporter, Anthony Shadid died unexpectedly this week. With his passing we lose America's finest reporter on Arab World issues — at the time when Americans need his work more than ever. The importance of Shadid’s writings to Americans and Arabs cannot be overstated. His reporting was unique, reflecting both his understanding of the history and culture of the Arab World and his concern for its people.


[Photo description: ] New York Times journalist Anthony Shadid, middle right, interviews residents of Embaba, a lower class Cairo neighborhood, during the Egyptian revolution.

"Unlike so many of his contemporaries, Anthony appreciated the fact that the story of the region didn't begin the day he got the assignment. His reporting reflected a historian's appreciation for context. He understood contemporary Arab realities, because he knew from whence they had come. And for this reason, he also had a better sense of where Arabs were going than most of the pundits and commentators who fill our airwaves with their endless and often wrongheaded chatter.

More than that, Anthony's work was also distinguished by a poet's sense of texture. He wrote not with an ego, but with an eye for detail and an ear for the voices he heard. Where others "embedded" with troops, he walked the streets of war torn Arab countries "embedded" with people, bringing to life, for the rest of us, what ordinary Iraqis, Lebanese, Syrians, etc. were seeing and saying and feeling. He cared about the Arab people. To him, they were not faceless objects or the "other side" of a conflict. They were real people with hopes and fears, with stories worth telling.

What he brought home to his readers were the voices of his subjects and their story as it was unfolding through their eyes. When you read a Shadid dispatch from Baghdad, Beirut, or Tripoli, it was as if you had been transported to the place. The sounds and smells of the streets where he walked, the warmth of the homes he visited, and the emotions, and concerns of the people he met — all came through in full force.

He often put himself in harm's way to bring us stories we needed to read. He was shot and wounded by the Israeli military in 2003, covering West Bank violence; he was at risk in Iraq, staying with families whose lives were impacted by war and terror; he was kidnapped, held hostage and abused in Libya, telling the story of the early stages of that country's revolt; and he died of a freakish asthma attack while researching a story inside Syria that no one else could or would cover in quite the same way. The last time I spoke with Anthony was after his release from captivity in Libya. He didn't dwell on what had happened to him, he was on to the next story to tell. In a way, he was relentless in his passion for his craft. It was more than a job, it was his mission.

For his work, he won two Pulitzer prizes. But for the contributions he has made to our understanding of a region we need to know, but do not, we owe Anthony Shadid so much more.

If not for him, the voices of everyday folks across the Arab World would not have had an outlet to be heard. We would not have known of the dilemma faced by ordinary Iraqis as they struggled with the life and death issues of war and occupation; we would not have seen up close the impact of Israel's horrific bombing of Lebanon; or experienced the Arab Spring, with all its exultation and frustration from Egypt to Syria.

The Arab American Institute recognized Shadid's work in 2007. Following a moving tribute by Hollywood actor, Tony Shalhoub, Anthony took the stage. What impressed everyone most was his quietness. He was a gentle and humble soul. His greatness lay not his projection of "self,” but in his ability to serve as a conduit for others — he told us their stories, not his own; he brought them to life and made us all aware of their reality.

Anthony Shadid was a man for others, for Arabs and Americans. He was our bridge to a world we impact so profoundly, but whose reality we do not know. And now he is gone. I grieve for him and for his family. And I grieve, as well, for the countless souls in a troubled region who told their stories to Anthony so he could relay them to the rest of us. He was a man for others. This was his greatness and this is why we must lament his passing."

Public Spaces in Beirut

I have recently read a couple of articles on usage of public space in Beirut. One I read for pleasure (thanks, Dad), and the other for work-related research.

Rachel Doyle (2/17/12) wrote the first one: "In Beirut, the Zaitunay Bay Promenade Opens" (http://travel.nytimes.com/2012/02/19/travel/in-beirut-the-zaitunay-bay-promenade-opens.html?emc=eta1). Reading it reminded me of my first (and sadly, still only) visit to Beirut. I spent as much time as possible during my 19 days there walking along the Med. (As a Jersey girl and sailor, I am most at home on or along the water. It turns out that I was "down the shore" in Beirut!) For an idea of the location of the Beirut Marina, where the Zaitunay Bay Promenade is, look at https://foursquare.com/v/zaitunay-bay/4df7630ab3adec5a0b9a9b84 . When I thanked Dad for forwarding the link to the NYT article, I ragged a bit about the latest of Beirut's post-civil war construction efforts as being elitist. Although an upper middle income country (http://data.worldbank.org/country/lebanon), Lebanon's ratio of government debt to gross domestic product is one of the world's highest, at around 130%, because of the weak central government (see, e.g., http://www.albawaba.com/gross-public-debt-sees-marginal-drop-2011-388901). This means there is less public financing available for free and low-cost services, like spaces for civic and cultural events, parks, and playgrounds. Civil society organizations and the private sector help keep the country going, and the private sector needs to make a profit to do so.

For a Lebanese perspective on Zaitunay Bay, I went to the Beirut-based Daily Star (http://www.dailystar.com.lb/Culture/Lifestyle/2011/Dec-21/157459-zaitunay-bay-brings-back-old-glory-days-at-beirut-marina.ashx#axzz1mwEoDZme). There is reference to the need for public play spaces for kids and more fast-food and less expensive dining venues, but I don't think the average Lebanese could muster $35 for a modestly priced French dinner. I hope that the public and private sectors of Lebanon will continue the (slow but hopefully steady) trend exemplified by the developers of Zaitunay Bay Promenade to open up safe public spaces accessible to people of all ages and backgrounds. In my brief internet search, I didn't see any signs of one, but I hope there is a no-fee playground/space for kids in the new area. If not, is there a Lebanese performer who could do a benefit on Zaitunay Bay Promenade to raise money for one? You know, someone with rock-star quality and a big heart...like Bruce Springsteen ;-)

The second piece is "Spatial Transformations in the Lebanese 'Independence Intifada'" by Sune Haugbolle [The Arab Studies Journal, vol. 14, no. 2 (Fall 2006), pp. 60-77.] (This intifadah, or uprising, is known in the West as the Cedar Revolution.) The author shows how the redeveloped downtown area of Beirut was transformed from February through April of 2005 into a vibrant area for free political expression. The activity was precipitated by the demand for withdrawal of Syrian government troops from Lebanon as well as the assassination of former Prime Minister Rafiq Hariri (also the principal architect of the downtown development project). Although non-profit civil society organizations (from individual Lebanese, political parties, to scholars to non-profit media organizations) were the main participants/organizers, as with Zaitunay Bay/Beirut Marina, the private sector was involved.

The author provides examples of a cathartic spirit of national unity of over one million Lebanese who demonstrated in two rallies in March. The two rallies were organized by different political groups, the first on March 8th by Hizbullah, the Party of God (which is "pro-Syrian") and the second on March 14th, by the opposition (or mu'arada), which called for the Syrian withdrawal. The author writes that the opposition leaders tried to keep their followers from using harsh or violent rhetoric; unfortunately, the situation devolved over the course of the three-month uprising. It was a brief interval of national unity, though, with people of all backgrounds milling around, much speechifying, a wall for posting whatever graffiti or banners one wanted, a huge banner with a unity slogan in front of the National Museum, and an opening up of once strictly single-sect neighborhoods to mixed sectarian activity.

At the end of Independence Intifadah, Syrian troops retreated from Lebanon, but the spirit of "one Lebanon," to the extent that there was one, dissolved and is yet to be revived in as large a mobilization as one-quarter of the country's population. However, there are small pockets of unity-building that I have observed in civil society and government. I just try to remain hopeful that Lebanon will keep moving along, despite the current Syrian strife surrounding the country, other governments and outside groups with Lebanon-related political projects, internal conflict between the March 8th and 14th coalitions, the Palestinian refugee situation within Lebanon, and Israeli-Palestinian-Lebanese tension along the southern border.

Phew! Time for a walk in the park.