Cymbeline and Lebanese politics

Went to see Cymbeline in the open air theatre in Regent's park last night. It was very entertaining, very funny. All overly melodramatic and bawdy. The man playing Cloton really needs to consider becoming an estate agent - if he wasn't one in a former life.

I'm still processing a lot of stuff from Lebanon in my mind, but I think I'll write a little bit more about it now.

I went to the beach with a bunch of the girls on the first Thursday. We took the bus (an experience in itself) and went to a beautifully clean beach near Byblos. There were lots of families, all sitting round on chairs smoking Narguile and eating or swimming and playing in the cordoned off swimming area. Muslim women stood chest deep in the water, in full hijab, playing ball with their children, and Christian women performed the same service in their bikinis. Perhaps everyone was sitting in their own family group and not talking a huge amount to the other families, but it was still a very hopeful, peaceful thing to see.

On the other hand, the political situation there seems to be extremely messed up at the moment. Even speaking to one tiny, and non-representative group of Lebanese students it was clear that there were divisions - 'are you for Geagea or Aoun?' I was asked so many times. Always I smile and say that I can remain only neutral in this. It is a time of great turmoil, with old leaders returning from exile (Aoun, only a couple of months ago) and being released from prison after acts of parliament (Geagea, whose release was ratified while I was there). Politicians are targeted by roadside bombs, several have been killed this year already, and a blast on my first Tuesday there was only a few hundred metres from where the guys in my group were living, it woke up those in siesta and damaged at least one of the windows in their building. Fortunately the target of that bomb was not killed, although I think around four others were not so fortunate. I met no-one willing to trust a politician with money, although some of the younger guys were willing to trust one or another with their dreams. Everything is murky and unclear, between the war and the subsequent occupation by the Syrians, nobody seems to have clean hands. There was no sense that there was a good choice to make, only the least worse. But also there was no sense in those that I spoke to of bitterness against one faction or another, no sense that the Christians hated the Sunni, the Shiia or the Druze. No sense that people think that more fighting would make anything better. And on my first evening in Lebanon I went to the Martyr's Square which was the scene in March of a million-person demonstration, more than a quarter of the population of the country stood to ask the Syrians to leave. It is also now the resting place of the body of Rafiq Hariri, the former prime minister (Sunni) who was killed in February. He lies in state under a canopy outside the massive new mosque that he helped to build. People wander in and out, stopping to look or pray, or both. Muslim and Christian they come through, with no obvious security - just a couple of guys at the entrance in civilian clothes. Again, it seemed that it was important to be Lebanese, whatever your faith. To have control of your own future, and some dignity in your public institutions. The fact that Hariri was a Muslim seemed irrelevant. Again, I'm aware that this is not a clear or inspiring narrative. It's just some impressions, for what they're worth.


If you're interested in Lebanon, I read a book called Pity the Nation by... what's his name... Robert Fisk...? I forget but he was a journalist who was based in Beirut for most of the civil war. It seems to blame all sides in the matter fairly indiscriminately, so it's probably not too biased.

And there is an English-language Lebanese newspaper online - The Daily Star.