Survey Shows Students Reject Sectarianism, Love Lebanon

By Marilyn Raschka

In April, the American University of Beirut (AUB) Drama Club put on a Charles Schultz play "You're a Good Man, Charlie Brown," and dedicated it to all the children of Lebanon, wishing them a brighter future. The actors, all AUB students, were children themselves when Lebanon's civil war broke out in April 1975. Today they are among the thousands of young Lebanese adults who never had a normal childhood.

The attitudes of this war generation toward Lebanon and its politics were measured in a 1989 project by a team of four AUB students for a Public Opinion course. Their sampling included the AUB West Beirut campus and its now-discontinued off-campus program in East Beirut. The 43-itern questionnaire was given to 280 students from Lebanon's five major religious communities: Sunni, Shi'i, Druze, Maronite and Greek Orthodox.

A striking overall observation is that, in spite of everything these young people have lived through, four out of five are proud of being Lebanese: 78.9 percent said they did not regret being born Lebanese and 85.1 percent said they would not avoid saying they are Lebanese.

Traveling on a Lebanese passport, however, has caused many young people, especially the men, delays and humiliating experiences. Even getting a visa is problematic. Cyprus is the only Western country that issues visas to Lebanese upon arrival.

The US Embassy in Beirut has not issued visas for several years. Lebanese seeking to visit the United States must travel to Damascus or Cyprus. The visa line at the US Embassy in the Syrian capital forms at midnight—even on the coldest winter nights. The flight to Cyprus is $200 per round trip and often two trips are needed before the visa is granted—if then.

US-bound students tell of complete body searches upon arrival. Others, who traveled during the Gulf crisis, were insulted by US Immigration and Naturalization officials when their Lebanese passports were spotted.

Their "pariah complex" is traced to the continuing hostage crisis, according to one 27-year-old Lebanese. "I wish they would put all the hostages in a bus and take them to Damascus and that would be the end of all this hostage stuff," he said bluntly.

Labeled as terrorists and kidnappers, many of this generation have themselves experienced the terror of being arrested by militias, or have had their fathers or other family members kidnapped or killed. And many more must face the rest of their lives blind, disfigured or as amputees.

Nevertheless, the survey results showed that 62.78 percent of the respondents said they would not give up their Lebanese nationality for a foreign one. But with economic conditions as bad as they are in Lebanon, working abroad still has great appeal. A surprising 68.9 percent said they plan to work somewhere outside Lebanon.

In spite of everything these young people have lived through, four out of five are proud of being Lebanese.

Among respondents in their late teens and 20s, there is the desire to equip themselves with skills that will increase their chances of finding work abroad. Interest in English as a second language among young adult Shi'i Muslims convinced one man to open a language school in Beirut's infamous southern suburbs. He is offering computer programming courses as well.

When polled on the subject of politics, 89.2 percent said they had no political affiliation. And 96.7 percent said the Lebanese Parliament did not represent them. Lebanon's aging legislators were elected in 1972 for a four-year term. Security conditions in the country have prohibited elections since then.

For these 20-year-olds, changing the political system is an overwhelmingly popular idea. The present sectarian-based political arrangement apparently would not last long if these young adults had their say. Of them, 83.2 percent are for abolishing confessionalism and 41.1 percent said it should be done "right now."

Their desire to see the sectarian system abolished surfaced at a personal level when asked if they would choose to have their religion stated on their national IDs. An astonishing 84.03 percent said, given the chance, they would refuse to have their sectarian affiliation mentioned. (All forms issued by the Lebanese government require a declaration of religion.)

Putting their beliefs into practice, 34 out of 60 medical students at the American University of Beirut recently chose not to state their religious affiliation on various application forms. "Our names give our sectarian backgrounds away, " explained one student, "but we did it out of good intentions. " (AUB now has deleted this question from university forms.)

But many of Lebanon's ills cannot be voted out of existence. Dina is a recent graduate from AUB in sociology. She would like to work for UNICEF, Save the Children or any of the non-governmental organizations operating in Beirut.

Wasta as a Way of Life

"Do you have any wasta?" she asks a foreign acquaintance. Wasta is clout, connections and recommendations rolled into one. Wasta was the way of life before the war and so it seems now. "No way I can get a job without wasta," she insists.

This practice operates along sectarian lines. The Lebanese government is based on confessionalism and wasta has always been accepted. Maronites bring in Maronites, Druze bring in Druze and so it goes.

But the young respondents see Lebanon's "new world order" differently. An overwhelming 92.47 percent favor a merit system as the basis for political appointment, rather than religion or party affiliation. And 76 percent think appointments based on religion should not be made at any level.

Lebanon is not an easy place to grow up in. Being Lebanese, clearly, has its darker side. The students must have considered many factors before answering the final question of the survey: Have you given up hope in the future of your country? "No, we have not, " was the response of 64.1 percent.

For the 20s crowd, these present quiet times, whether temporary or permanent, are giving them the chance to catch up with life. Playing Charlie Brown and Lucy and Schroeder and Snoopy is part of it. So is abandoning videos for nights out at the movies. Crossing the old green line after dark is becoming a habit instead of a brush with death.

And when members of this war generation have caught up with life, married and settled down, where will they seek a brighter future for their children? Asked in the questionnaire if they would raise their children in Lebanon, 59.7 percent of the student respondents answered with a firm "yes.”

Marilyn Raschka is an American faculty member at the American University of Beirut and an editor of the Americans for Justice in the Middle East newsletter.