Protests bring Lebanon to a halt
'We have to do something to make them hear us, to make them know we
exist.' - Natalie Rizek, Anti-government protester Hezbollah and its
allies paralyzed Lebanon on Tuesday, sending thousands of demonstrators
to seize control of major roads, brawl with government supporters and
choke the seaside capital in the acrid smoke of burning tires.
The swift seizure of the country's roads took many here by surprise,
and marked a major escalation in the militant group Hezbollah's campaign
to overthrow Lebanon's U.S.-backed government. At least three people
died and more than 100 were wounded as clashes flared around the
country.
The opposition, dominated by the powerful Shiite Muslim Hezbollah,
had called for a general strike Tuesday, and the roadblocks gave people
little choice but to stay home.
The roads to Beirut's airport were impassable, blocked by sand berms,
garbage and roaring fires. Some flights were canceled, and arriving
passengers languished at the airport. The roadblocks in the capital were
being cleared overnight, but the opposition threatened further
escalation if the government didn't step down.
Hour after tense hour, the army and security services gave free rein
to the protesters. While young men barricaded neighborhoods and halted
cars to interrogate the drivers, soldiers and police officers stood by
and watched. Security forces in riot gear lined some streets, and
armored personnel carriers crunched over the rubble. But to the delight
of some Lebanese and the disgust of others, they didn't interfere.
"They are on our side," crowed Kamal Yehiya, a 20-year-old Hezbollah
supporter who was hurling rubble into a fire near downtown. The blockade
tapped into the deep well of tribal rage and sectarian animosities that
seem to fester just beneath the surface in Lebanon.
"Welcome to hell," said Mohammed Boukari, 29, who stood watching as
his south Beirut neighborhood dissolved into a melee of religious
taunts, gunfire and rock-throwing.
On one side of the road, Sunni supporters of Prime Minister Fouad
Siniora clambered onto the roof of a gas station, lobbed stones and
cursed Shiite leaders. On the other side, young Shiite men responded in
kind, waving the pipes and bedposts they carried as weapons and
hollering with rage.
Sunnis, Shiites face off
Clad in riot gear, soldiers raced through the streets between the two
mobs, shooting into the air and blocking the young men from charging at
one another.
"We are from the same neighborhood. We are Lebanese," Boukari said."
But look at this." Barricaded indoors, the government decried the
opposition's tactics as an attempted coup d'etat.
"This is not a strike. This is military action," Cabinet minister
Ahmed Fatfat told Al Arabiya satellite channel. Speaking on Lebanese
television, Siniora said the government was ready for talks with the
opposition and called for parliament to convene.
"The current explosive crisis needs to be dealt with quickly by
moving the fights from the streets to the legitimate political
institutions," he said.
For more than 50 wintry days, Hezbollah and its allies have camped on
the pavement downtown in a massive sit-in aimed at toppling the
government. The demonstrators deride the government as an illegitimate
tool of the United States and Israel.
But Siniora's government has dug in its heels, vowing not to
relinquish power. When hundreds of thousands of people flooded the
capital to demand his ouster, he dismissed their calls as a coup attempt
engineered by Syria and Iran, the main backers of Hezbollah.
"The opposition was well aware that it was running out of cards,"
said Amal Saad-Ghorayeb, a Hezbollah expert and visiting fellow at the
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace. "This is perhaps their only
remaining weapon."
In Washington, the Bush administration criticized the demonstrators
and accused Syria of fueling the turmoil.
"These factions are trying to use violence, threats and intimidation
to impose their political will on Lebanon," said chief State Department
spokesman Sean McCormack. But in the Lebanese capital, one of the many
demonstrators at an intersection in front of Beirut's museum explained
her motivation as fires blazed around her.
"We have to do something to make them hear us, to make them know we
exist," said Natalie Rizek, 23, a medical student who supports popular
Christian opposition leader Gen. Michel Aoun.
"We tried everything," she said. "They were continuing as if nothing
was happening."
Residents who ventured forth held tissues to their noses or wore
surgical masks to shield against the black smoke that billowed through
the streets.
"This is not democracy," sputtered Noha Qaisi, a 48-year-old
homemaker. "My kids are saying they're suffocating from all the smoke
inside."
Premier alters plans
As the capital smoldered around him, Siniora was forced to postpone
his departure for an international donors conference in Paris.
Supporters of the government have been banking on the Paris meeting
to help Lebanon recover from the devastation of last summer's war
between Israel and Hezbollah. Like most events backed by Hezbollah,
Tuesday's demonstrations were carefully coordinated.
Trucks loaded with tires were parked along the roadsides to feed the
fires. At intersections, older men with walkie-talkies supervised the
fire building. Young men on mopeds buzzed from one corner to the next,
passing along news and instructions. A red Volvo rolled slowly between
stained apartment blocks, a loudspeaker strapped to its roof and the
driver's words echoing off the buildings:
Corniche Mazraa, a boulevard in south Beirut that divides a
predominantly Shiite neighborhood from a mainly Sunni area, degenerated
into a scene of urban warfare as gangs from each neighborhood battled
the army to get at their rivals across the street.
"Saddam, Saddam, Saddam," chanted the young men, invoking the
executed former president of Iraq, who was a Sunni. They thumped
themselves on the head, mocking Shiite self-flagellation rites. They
chanted for Siniora, beat a tambourine and danced wildly, waving their
makeshift weapons.
"They want us to be ruled by Iran and Syria," said Omar Senou, a
27-year-old photography clerk. "That will never happen, even if we have
to cut throats."
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