Back in 2015, as part of its new traffic laws to regulate “Lebanon’s chaotic roads,” the Lebanese Ministry of Interior and Municipalities announced that every car in the country must be equipped with a small fire extinguisher. For decades, there had been few laws to ensure the safety of Lebanese drivers and their passengers. Now, finally, in addition to seatbelt and car seat requirements, drivers had to have fire extinguishers at hand in case their cars ignited, which, it had been decided, was a real concern. I and other Lebanese citizens were struck by this sudden, endearing care for our safety. There were even some teary eyes.
Now, four years later, Lebanon’s roads are still chaotic, and, while many drivers now possess the indispensable small fire extinguishers, the government, as was made all too clear earlier this week when Lebanon was swept by catastrophic flames from out-of-control wildfires, doesn’t have the proper equipment to handle more urgent calamities.
The fires started on Monday night in the dense forests to the east and south of Beirut and then engulfed other regions to the north, reaching residential areas on their way and endangering houses, schools and small businesses, not to mention displacing hundreds of families. Aerial photographs show rows of charred cars and scorched streets.
Some blamed the sudden temperature rise and the strong winds, others said the fires were the work of arsonists and a few even claimed they had been started by Syrians. But the crucial question is: Why did the Lebanese government fail to react in an efficient manner to contain the wildfires? And what were the cabinet members and the president doing that night, while citizens and firefighters from the Civil Defense, with limited technical capability, were desperately trying to put out the flames?
They were probably sleeping soundly, their consciences appeased, I assume, by the fact that every Lebanese had a small fire extinguisher in his car, so nothing could go wrong.
The fires on Monday had indeed been quashed late that evening, but winds overnight reignited them. The next morning, Lebanese officials requested urgent assistance from the Cypriots, who sent two planes. More help came from Jordan, Italy and Greece, and eventually the fires were contained. But didn’t the Lebanese state have any firefighting aircraft that could have gained us precious time and prevented serious, maybe irreversible, losses?
It sure did. It had not one, not two, but three firefighting Sikorsky S-70 helicopters that were purchased and donated to the government after a coalition of citizens and businessmen raised about $15 million in 2009. The Army was put in charge of these helicopters because the Civil Defense does not have pilots, but they nominally belonged to the Ministry of Interior. From 2009 to 2012, the helicopters were used to fight multiple fires. But in subsequent years, no repairs were made on the helicopters, and they went out of service. The Ministry of Interior and Municipalities didn’t fund the needed amount for their maintenance.
The fires that started on Monday are believed to be the worst that Lebanon has seen in decades. But forest fires have hit the country throughout the past year, decimating some three million trees. The new fires, made up of more than 100 blazes, burned a further 3,000 acres, doubling the yearly average of lost forest. “It’s absolutely catastrophic to our national biodiversity,” George Mitri, director of the land and natural resources program at the University of Balamand in the northern district of El-Koura, told Al Jazeera.
On Wednesday morning, I woke up to a picture of a young man who had lost his life fighting the fires. I woke up to the news of more beautiful and essential trees devoured by flames, in a country already afflicted by the absence of an aware and proper environmental policy. I woke up to people in power expressing regret and calling for an investigation, but not taking responsibility for the disaster. Last but not least, I woke up to the voices of insolent politicians exchanging accusations, trying to exploit the situation to score political points, an indecency we’re by now accustomed to, especially under the current so-called strong regime of President Michel Aoun and his Free Patriotic Movement, whose inadequate performance (to say the least) has made us plunge even more deeply into the economic crisis that has been looming over us for years, and is now crushing the country.
By Thursday, the major fires were under control and the Civil Defense forces were working on putting out a few remaining blazes. But as the day progressed, thousands of Lebanese flooded the streets in protests, calling for, among other urgent demands, the resignation of the government. On Friday morning, flames were burning throughout the country, this time from bonfires ignited by people who are thoroughly fed up with our leaders’ corruption, dysfunction and indifference.
As it all unfolds, I keep reminding myself that all is not yet lost. Because I have a small fire extinguisher in my car, and everything is going to be all right.
Ms. Haddad is the author of several books, including “I Killed Scheherazade: Confessions of an Angry Arab Woman” and “The Seamstress’ Daughter,” a novel about the Armenian genocide.
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Home » Analysis & Comment » Opinion | Lebanon Is on Fire
Opinion | Lebanon Is on Fire
Back in 2015, as part of its new traffic laws to regulate “Lebanon’s chaotic roads,” the Lebanese Ministry of Interior and Municipalities announced that every car in the country must be equipped with a small fire extinguisher. For decades, there had been few laws to ensure the safety of Lebanese drivers and their passengers. Now, finally, in addition to seatbelt and car seat requirements, drivers had to have fire extinguishers at hand in case their cars ignited, which, it had been decided, was a real concern. I and other Lebanese citizens were struck by this sudden, endearing care for our safety. There were even some teary eyes.
Now, four years later, Lebanon’s roads are still chaotic, and, while many drivers now possess the indispensable small fire extinguishers, the government, as was made all too clear earlier this week when Lebanon was swept by catastrophic flames from out-of-control wildfires, doesn’t have the proper equipment to handle more urgent calamities.
The fires started on Monday night in the dense forests to the east and south of Beirut and then engulfed other regions to the north, reaching residential areas on their way and endangering houses, schools and small businesses, not to mention displacing hundreds of families. Aerial photographs show rows of charred cars and scorched streets.
Some blamed the sudden temperature rise and the strong winds, others said the fires were the work of arsonists and a few even claimed they had been started by Syrians. But the crucial question is: Why did the Lebanese government fail to react in an efficient manner to contain the wildfires? And what were the cabinet members and the president doing that night, while citizens and firefighters from the Civil Defense, with limited technical capability, were desperately trying to put out the flames?
They were probably sleeping soundly, their consciences appeased, I assume, by the fact that every Lebanese had a small fire extinguisher in his car, so nothing could go wrong.
The fires on Monday had indeed been quashed late that evening, but winds overnight reignited them. The next morning, Lebanese officials requested urgent assistance from the Cypriots, who sent two planes. More help came from Jordan, Italy and Greece, and eventually the fires were contained. But didn’t the Lebanese state have any firefighting aircraft that could have gained us precious time and prevented serious, maybe irreversible, losses?
It sure did. It had not one, not two, but three firefighting Sikorsky S-70 helicopters that were purchased and donated to the government after a coalition of citizens and businessmen raised about $15 million in 2009. The Army was put in charge of these helicopters because the Civil Defense does not have pilots, but they nominally belonged to the Ministry of Interior. From 2009 to 2012, the helicopters were used to fight multiple fires. But in subsequent years, no repairs were made on the helicopters, and they went out of service. The Ministry of Interior and Municipalities didn’t fund the needed amount for their maintenance.
The fires that started on Monday are believed to be the worst that Lebanon has seen in decades. But forest fires have hit the country throughout the past year, decimating some three million trees. The new fires, made up of more than 100 blazes, burned a further 3,000 acres, doubling the yearly average of lost forest. “It’s absolutely catastrophic to our national biodiversity,” George Mitri, director of the land and natural resources program at the University of Balamand in the northern district of El-Koura, told Al Jazeera.
On Wednesday morning, I woke up to a picture of a young man who had lost his life fighting the fires. I woke up to the news of more beautiful and essential trees devoured by flames, in a country already afflicted by the absence of an aware and proper environmental policy. I woke up to people in power expressing regret and calling for an investigation, but not taking responsibility for the disaster. Last but not least, I woke up to the voices of insolent politicians exchanging accusations, trying to exploit the situation to score political points, an indecency we’re by now accustomed to, especially under the current so-called strong regime of President Michel Aoun and his Free Patriotic Movement, whose inadequate performance (to say the least) has made us plunge even more deeply into the economic crisis that has been looming over us for years, and is now crushing the country.
By Thursday, the major fires were under control and the Civil Defense forces were working on putting out a few remaining blazes. But as the day progressed, thousands of Lebanese flooded the streets in protests, calling for, among other urgent demands, the resignation of the government. On Friday morning, flames were burning throughout the country, this time from bonfires ignited by people who are thoroughly fed up with our leaders’ corruption, dysfunction and indifference.
As it all unfolds, I keep reminding myself that all is not yet lost. Because I have a small fire extinguisher in my car, and everything is going to be all right.
Ms. Haddad is the author of several books, including “I Killed Scheherazade: Confessions of an Angry Arab Woman” and “The Seamstress’ Daughter,” a novel about the Armenian genocide.
The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips. And here’s our email: [email protected].
Follow The New York Times Opinion section on Facebook, Twitter (@NYTopinion) and Instagram.
Source: Read Full Article