It took me a while to realize that the trajectory my education, cultural choices, and life choices had taken had made it somewhat difficult to really pinpoint a place or culture I belong to. It started off as a high-nosed policy when I transferred from an American school (which influenced my reading, education, and language choices then and later on in life) to a Lebanese English-speaking school. The reason, I think I now understand, why there is any power felt in speaking English, which drove my superior attitude is the influence that several kinds of imperialism have had in this region, fueling, in their path, the conviction of the superiority of the foreign (the French and the English/American) and the inferiority of the Arab. This might not be present in all levels of society, but it carries weight and underlies many of the elements of the so-called Lebanese culture. Why then do so many of us speak in English or French to our children, refuse to accept that Lebanese people have an "accent" and, if they do, try to squash it out before anyone else can hear? Clinging to our Arab heritage (whatever that is) and the language is a conscious and even difficult endeavor.
At university, I thought I began to understand why I, personally, felt confused. I couldn't identify with he culture my parents projected or with the culture that many of my friends carried. I had ideas that were frowned on, and hobbies and interests that people just shook their head at. We read DuBois in an American Studies class, and something clicked. This sense of being separated, split, cut into two made sense. I was influenced by two cultures. And as I had also learned the importance of language and reading in transmitting culture, it suddenly all made sense. My identity was that of the post-modern, the globalized, the person in whom more than one culture lived, and sometimes clashed. And as we read more, I realized I had gone past DuBois into a world where having split identity did not necessarily mean that I had lived in more than one place. The power of culture spread through modern imperialism was overwhelming as it was silent and pervasive. I had resolved the problem, and I could live my life knowing I was colorful, creative.
This theory is not necessarily true, and as I grew older and realized that the deep sense of superiority was a large part of this belief, and as the Arabic language and culture became more interesting, as did the Lebanese, out of a conscious effort to understand them, the problem became a more serious one. A large part of this new-found confusion stemmed from my having become more interested in Islam, and eventually transforming from a person who had inherited Islam to a person who believed in this faith. A lot of the things that I had believed could be adapted to my beliefs, and fell under them, like feminism (which became more focused as I understood my roles, etc.) and philanthropy....
But the problem that this caused is that I now had something else to grapple with. Part of a culture is people's socialization, attitudes toward life, and their general lifestyle. As I became more religious, as it were, I found that some things I had grown up with or within did not necessarily fit my new perspective on life. And these things were from both the Western and Lebanese cultures I had grown up in. Where did I fit now? I had long ago decided that I was not "Western" and had reconciled myself to the conviction that I was just as multi-cultural and complicated as every other Lebanese person, and, like the rest, in my own way.
So if we try to define Lebanese culture, the Lebanese people, and Lebanon, what do we get? In light of the ever-growing conflict in the region and in Lebanon, loyalties and localism has become an issue of debate, to me at least. A woman on TV stated in a rage that "We are more Lebanese than they are," stemming from the grounds that being Lebanese is something specific to what she believed. Certainly, this shows loyalty but does this statement reflect Lebanese-ness? People seem to identify with each other and the nation in Lebanon in several ways. Ask any person what they are, and they will declare with a sense of pride and defiance that they are Lebanese. This form of loyalty is inspiring, but if we look into it, it seems bare. Why are you Lebanese? Because I was born in Lebanon. Lebanon was part of something much larger not too long ago and then lines were drawn by the French and English to delineate its borders. Unless they had some divine knowledge of where a certain culture ended, then these borders are just confusing.
It seems, from the general structure of government we have been struggling with, that being Lebanese means close to nothing. People do not identify with the nation, because identifying with a nation means believing in a singular national narrative that unites people, even if it has to be made up. Look at the United States. Nothing joined the separate colonies together, but they forged national narrative and defined themselves by what they were not: French or English. Regardless of whether this was good or bad, it was effective. And the point behind it is that people living in a certain nation have loyalty to that nation and to each other as a group. We do have a narrative that circulates, that being Lebanese mean diversity, but when it comes down to it, people define themselves against each other, the other types of Lebanese rather than identifying as one large group. Like, we the (Muslim/Christian/Druze) of this sect and this area are better at being Lebanese than they are.
Where do people's loyalties lie? They are obviously sectarian and not a single drop more. No one is interested in the well being of the nation, no matter what speeches they make. People don't vote for officials because they will help develop the nation. They vote for them because they are "one of us." And democracy is built, if nothing else, on diversity. But this isn't diversity. This is a blind and tribal devotion.
Fine, let's say that this is not what defines a nation. What else? Language? We gave up on that a while ago. How about culture? Okay. According to the glorious Wikipedia, "The Lebanese people (Arabic: الشعب اللبناني / ALA-LC: al-sha‘ab al-lubnānī, Lebanese Arabic pronunciation: [eʃˈʃaʕb ellɪbˈneːne]) are a nationand ethnic group of Levantine people originating in what is today the country of Lebanon, including those who had inhabited Mount Lebanon prior to the creation of the modern Lebanese state."
Wait, what? Let's give them another chance... "The cultural and linguistic heritage of the Lebanese people is a rich blend of both indigenous elements and the foreign cultures that have come to rule the land and its people over the course of thousands of years." A rich blend? Meaning what? What is it? Do they all speak a rich blend of languages? No. Are they all influenced by the same foreign cultures? Probably. How is culture manifested then? By habits, tradition, etc.? Do we really have the same culture, though? If we ever did, a lot of it has been diluted by modern pervasion of culture and language. We listen to foreign music, watch foreign films, eat a lot of foreign food. It's not wrong, it just shows that the traditions we base our culture on are either no longer acted upon and they never really were united. From personal experience, my habits and culture don't really seem to match those around me. And neither do a lot of people's.
I watched a Karakella show recently, and towards the end, they sang about Lebanon. People went crazy with excitement, but I listened to the words and felt nothing. A year ago, I might have cried and cheered with the rest. But now I realized that nothing but the emotional wanting that I had to belong here made me feel Lebanese. My problem is that I began to realize that my identity as a Lebanese was not really much more than the fact that I was born here. And I'm not saying this to criticize but because I'm just worried. And I was raised by a mother who is the most patriotic thing to walk the planet. She bleeds red, white, and cedars. So it is not from a lack of being raised as Lebanese that I'm confused. But because I've been raised to feel proud of my heritage, culture, and nation that I'm confused. What is it exactly that I'm proud of? What is my heritage, culture, and nation?
We tend to get angry when faced with the question of our heritage, and a lot I think owes to the fact that we are still trying to build that heritage and the sense of belonging. We have built it so much on a sense of belonging to the land, that we forget that it also means a sense of belonging with other people. Not just the people of the same religion or the same sect. And that is a crucial aspect of what makes this nation so fragile and its people so bent on turning on each other. There is a sense of belonging but also a sense of "only those like me belong." But the question remains: What is that joins us? A Fayrouz song about the beauty of Lebanon and its resilient people paints an idealistic image, one we have of Lebanon but one that doesn't really exist. It's purely emotional.
