The lost heritage

The tower block vultures are circling owners and tenants of Beirut’s heritage homes in the Ashrafieh, Mar Mikhael and Gemmayze neighbourhoods offering to buy 19th century Ottoman and 20th century French mandate buildings damaged or gutted by the Aug.4 blast in the port. Banners adorning two such buildings read, “We are staying” and “Our history is not for sale.” But, many owners do not have the funds to save homes or shops, restaurants and bars in heritage buildings.

The vultures are also pressuring owners and threatening tenants in the poor Qarantina quarter with the aim of turning this district into a luxury seaside development. The poor would become homeless if the developers are successful in their campaign to bulldoze historic neighbourhoods in their quest for land.

Maronite Catholic Patriarch Bechara al-Rahi warned against these ruthless “vultures” hovering over the wreckage of East Beirut, a mainly Christian area. The Culture Ministry has decreed damaged properties must be rebuilt before being sold while the Finance Ministry has prohibited the sale of any listed property without formal official permission. However, as corruption has reigned in Lebanon for more than three decades, the authorities cannot be trusted.      

Naji Raji, spokesman for Save Beirut Heritage, said the explosion damaged more than 600 historic buildings. Of the 40 at risk of collapse workmen are erecting scaffolding to prevent them from collapsing. He estimated the cost of rescuing century old buildings at $300 million (Dhs1.1 billion).   

Last week, Director-General of the UN educational and cultural organisation (UNESCO) Audrey Azoulay launched an appeal for donations to rehabilitate schools, historic buildings, museums, galleries and the country’s creative sector. The organisation estimated that 8,000 buildings in all have been affected by the explosion which killed 180, wounded 4,000 and rendered 300,000 homeless.

She asked for $23m (Dhs84m) for repairing schools and estimated that $500m (Dhs1.8b) is needed to support heritage over the coming year. She hopes to raise a large proportion of this sum during a conference scheduled for the end of this month.

“It’s Beirut’s soul that’s on the line,” she said. “Without its historical quarters, its creators, Beirut would no longer be Beirut.”

UNESCO has committed to stabilising, securing and safeguarding heritage buildings in the most damaged districts and to press the authorities to fend off the vultures by issuing a “call for the historic centre to be protected — through administrative measures and appropriate regulations — to prevent property speculation and transactions taking advantage of residents’ distress and vulnerability.”

This is precisely what happened when Lebanon’s second civil war ended in 1990. Under the auspices of ex-Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, the devastated centre of Beirut, the core of the city where West and East meet, was partially reconstructed after owners of destroyed properties and were inadequately compensated by developers who promised to unite the city. Instead, they rebuilt several avenues of handsome French mandate era buildings hosting offices, cafes and upmarket shops and put up tower blocks along the seafront.

Gone is cosy, stone-arched Souq al-Franj, the French Market, in Bab Edriss where Mr. Mahmoud in a beige smock stocked 500 cheeses in winter, 200 in summer, and flower shops overflowed with wonderful blooms every morning. The popular Cinema which showed Indian films non-stop was obliterated but did not merit rebuilding because the vultures had no use for Bollywood. They turned the centre of the capital into an arid, depopulated expanse where since last October tens of thousands of Lebanese have gathered to protest against the mismanagement and corruption of the post-war political elite. 

The Lebanese capital does not need more towers. Hundreds of empty gleaming glass-sided buildings with multi-million dollar flats loom over Beirut where government electricity is rationed and water is delivered in tanker lorries rather than  pipes. Windows in many West Beirut blocks five-to-six-kilometres from the explosion were shattered when nearly 3,000 tonnes of deteriorating ammonium nitrate were detonated in a warehouse where other flammable materials  were improperly stored, killing at least 190, wounding 4,000, rendering 300,000 homeless, and attacking Lebanon’s cultural heritage.

The iconic Sursock Contemporary Art Museum exhibiting Lebanese and foreign artists’ work was one of the iconic merchant mansions seriously damaged by the explosion. Having survived Lebanon’s 15-year civil war, the distinctive white Italianate facade of the villa, built in 1912, appears untouched. But, its stained glass windows were blown in by the blast and its interior and many of the paintings on display were wounded. Fortunately, a roving Picasso exhibition on recent display had gone elsewhere.

Next to the museum is the Sursock Palace built in 1860 by Moise Sursock. Having survived World War I, the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, World War II the French mandate, and Lebanon’s two civil wars, the mansion was also ravaged by the explosion. Walls and ceilings of the second floor cracked and collapsed and the valuable collection of Ottoman artefacts and paintings damaged. Sursock said the destruction is far worse than the damage inflicted by the 1975-90 civil conflict. Having spent 20 years restoring the house after that war, the owner

Irish-born Roderick Sursock intends to rebuild. His mother, Lady (Yvonne) Cochrane Sursock, once a prominent social figure and campaigner for the preservation of Lebanon’s cultural heritage, agreed. She died on Monday aged 98.

Although the home is listed as a cultural heritage site, Sursock told ABC news that the army has come to assess damage in the neighbourhood but the Culture Ministry has not sent a team. The palace will require “rebuilding from scratch” he said but he will not embark on this lengthy, expensive venture until Lebanon’s economy is stable and political class removed. “We need total change, the country is run by a gang of corrupt people,” he stated. Like his mother, who remained during the civil war, Sursock intends to stay on. Like most Lebanese and long term residents, he is deeply attached to Beirut. Even those of us who left years ago feel we are “displaced Beirutis” and have also been traumatised by the blasts that destroyed so much of the city.