Though tensions may not lead to war, writes Serene Assir in Beirut, they are generating stagnation at a time for action "Something in Lebanon doesn't feel quite right," says Ilham Bekdashe, who works at a Beirut law firm. "It's something under the surface of politics, but I can't make out what it is." Hers is a sentiment that has been echoed time and again through recent days in Lebanon, a country that through decades of turmoil has become home to conspiracies -- at times imagined no doubt, but to an uncomfortable extent real. Now, however, in the wake of a brutal war waged on the country by Israel that left more that 1,400 dead, 4,000 injured, 15,000 homes destroyed and another 15,000 partially damaged, the urgency in Lebanon for real transparency is stronger than ever. The political, physical and psychological reconstruction of the fractured country depends on it. As things stand now, however, there is a huge gap between the genuine demands of a large chunk of the beleaguered Lebanese population and what it is being offered both by the government and the international community. Monday's visit by British Prime Minister Tony Blair to his Lebanese counterpart, Fouad Al-Siniora, and his government only served to exacerbate this feeling. While thousands of demonstrators gathered outside the government building in downtown Beirut to protest the visit, thousands more Hizbullah supporters staged their first rally since hostilities ended 14 August in the destroyed southern suburbs of Beirut, demanding that the government, dominated by the Saad Al-Hariri-led 14th March bloc, resign immediately. Leader of the Free Patriotic Movement, Michel Aoun, who joined an alliance with Hizbullah soon after his return from his 14-year exile in France, has also been increasingly categorical in his demands for the creation of a national unity government, which would presumably incorporate less of the 14th March bloc and more members of his alliance with Hizbullah. On the other hand, days after UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan made it quite clear during a visit to Lebanon that international peacekeeping troops would not be deployed along the border with Syria, Walid Jumblatt MP, leader of the Druze community and a close Hariri ally, nevertheless reiterated his demand that the border be guarded, lest arms be smuggled to Hizbullah. While demonstrators from large sections of the Lebanese political spectrum close to the government building felt that Blair's visit only served to add insult to the injured given that he was instrumental in preventing an early Security Council demand for a ceasefire, Jumblatt accused the crowd of aiming to topple the government. To some extent, perhaps, he may be right. But while calls for the restructuring of Lebanon's political class may be understood as baseless disruption among supporters of the 14th March bloc, on the street feelings of disaffection range from the ideological to the sincerely humanitarian. For instance, at the destroyed Beirut port of Al-Uzai, where 20 Israeli raids wrecked the majority of boats leaving 400 families with no income, fishermen described how the government, the international community and, to a lesser extent, Hizbullah had let them down. "During the war, we received $150 in assistance from Hizbullah," said 28-year old fisherman Hassan Hjeil. "Since, we have been told to wait until they provide people whose homes have been destroyed with aid first. As for the government, they told us the money is with the UN, which as far as I know is not true." He and fellow fisherman Mohamed Faqih added that even after they staged a demonstration in downtown Beirut, the government's pledges have so far come to nothing. "We come here every day in the hope that they will keep their promise. We are not partisans but we feel very, very disappointed. All summer, we have made no money, ever since the war started. It is an embarrassment." For many, the government's tardiness in meeting the demands of those most directly affected by the war constitutes in itself a political move; an attempt to push Hizbullah into a corner and to undermine its grassroots support. The resonance of the move, given Fatah's pressure on Hamas in Palestine, is all too great; that, in conjunction with reports of corruption in the ranks of the government leading up to a purported corruption scandal surrounding Yehia Raad, deputy chief of the Higher Relief Council (HRC). Whether or not allegations of the HRC's theft of aid money are correct, however, Lebanese governance still has a long way to go before its leadership gets back on a clear path. "As far as I'm concerned," said one disaffected Beirut taxi driver, "all of that aid that countries have promised will either never arrive, or most of it will make its way into the pockets of our corrupt leaders. There is no reason why we should trust the government, not now, not when political action is needed most."
