Extending a hand of friendship in the midst of a fragile peace

06 January 2013 - 02:00 By Terry Waite
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He spent five years as a hostage in Lebanon. In early December last year, he went back to Beirut to meet his captors with an unexpected message

THE night before my return visit to Beirut in early December last year, I needed to call my bank regarding a transaction on my credit card. After the matter was dealt with, I thought it wise to inform them that I would be overseas in Beirut for the next few days.

There was a pause on the line. "Mr Waite," said the lady, "I rather wish you hadn't told me that!"

Her reaction was hardly surprising. For years, Lebanon has been the scene of kidnapping and warfare. In the late 1980s, I languished there for almost five years as a hostage, most of the time chained to a wall and denied many basic creature comforts.

In recent years, the situation in Lebanon has vastly improved, but the name Hezbollah continues to strike terror into the hearts of many. Once wholly identified as a terrorist group, the Iranian-backed Shia militia has since developed into a fully fledged political party. Now the country's fragile peace is threatened by the conflict raging in Syria and the continued turmoil in the Middle East.

I was released from captivity in November 1991 and returned once, several years later, to support some of the development projects being supported by YCare International, an agency I assisted in founding some 30 years ago. But I had not been back since that visit. I was invited to return again last week, in particular to see for myself the plight of the many Christian refugees who are flooding across the Syrian-Lebanese border to escape the horrors of the so-called Arab Spring.

TO reach the Syrian border, one has to travel through the Bekaa Valley, which, since Roman times, has been a prime agricultural region. In recent years it has developed a less pastoral image as it became known as an area in which terrorism is rife and many hostages are alleged to have been kept. For most of my captivity, I was held in the southern suburbs of Beirut, although it is just possible that, for the final few months, the Bekaa was my home. I cannot be sure about that. Each time I was moved, I would be wrapped in masking tape, blindfolded and transported in the boot of a car.

On this visit, I travelled in comfort in the front seat of a four-wheel-drive vehicle. It was strange to be on a road that, perhaps, I had travelled along years earlier as a hostage. I remembered lying in the boot, trying to recall every twist and turn of the road and listening intently to the sounds of life outside. I do not suppose I shall ever know where I spent my days incarcerated and, frankly, I do not much care.

We arrived at Al Qaa, a dusty, somewhat ramshackle town that has been the scene of numerous border clashes across the years. It is here that many of the Christian families who have escaped from the terrors of warfare in Syria find a temporary home. For generations - for almost 2000 years - the various ethnic and religious communities have lived side by side in Syria. Christians and Muslims have shared places of worship.

Today, that has changed dramatically. It could be argued that the Arab Spring began in 2011 as a genuine movement seeking greater democratic freedom across the Arab world. It could also be argued with equal force that the uprising has now been hijacked by extreme jihadists and that, for the first time in years, religious persecution is taking place where once there was harmony.

The refugees now seeking shelter in Lebanon have been taken into the homes of other Christian families, or are renting properties. The people I met were not, by any stretch of the imagination, well off. I visited a family paying $200 a month for rent, plus $100 for fuel. The main breadwinner earned between $10 and $15 a day. He had a wife and several children to support, including a little boy with Down's syndrome. In the past few weeks, at least 200 Christian families from Syria have come to this village and thousands more have entered other parts of the country.

Poor little Lebanon, I thought, with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict on one side and now the Syrian horrors on the other. The conflict had become so severe that other families I visited said they had been forced to leave their homes. In one place there were 15 people living in four small rooms. "The Arab Spring is a joke," said one of the refugees. "It has become another form of persecution."

Such disruptions over the border in Syria are bound to impinge on Lebanon in many ways. On our return to Beirut, we learnt that on the road to the town we had visited that afternoon three men were abducted by an armed gang, probably made up of criminal opportunists. Gradually, the fragile peace that Lebanon currently enjoys is being threatened.

Leaving Al Qaa, I travelled to Zahle, another border town, to talk to John Darwish, the Melkite archbishop. A mild-mannered and gentle person, he is gravely concerned about the breakdown in relationships in Syria and the number of refugees flocking to Lebanon. It is difficult to get an accurate estimate, but a figure of 250000 is quoted. It could be more and the number is increasing each day.

Apart from the current refugee problems, I also discussed with the archbishop one of the most remarkable developments in Lebanon in recent years: the agreement, signed in 2006, that effectively brought together a majority of the Christian communities with Hezbollah - Christian and Muslims working together for a united Lebanon.

Cynics might regard this agreement as nothing more than political expediency. However, it may well be that it marks the way for the only solution possible for Lebanon and the surrounding countries.

Given the ethnic and religious mix in Lebanon, the only sensible solution is for the various communities to respect each other and live and work together for the good of the country. The archbishop strongly backed the new relationship and firmly believed that Hezbollah had grown and matured over the years and was working for the best interests of all the people of Lebanon. He believed this act of reconciliation was a positive step forward.

THE next morning I decided it was time to make my own move towards reconciliation, believing as I do that political agreements have to be accompanied by individuals stretching out their hand to those with whom they have previously disagreed. I took steps to make contact with senior figures in Hezbollah with a view to having a face-to-face meeting.

The first step was to track down Dr Adnan Mrouea, one of my contacts from 25 years ago. Mrouea, who later became minister of health, was the person in whose apartment I first met the kidnappers of the Western hostages and where I was promised safe conduct to visit them when they were allegedly sick and one, so it was said, was about to die. This promise was broken, not by the doctor, and I was taken hostage myself.

I found his cellphone number and called him out of the blue. "Hello, Adnan," I said. "This is Terry, Terry Waite." Clearly, he was surprised about hearing from me after so long. I asked him if we could meet some time that day because I would be glad to see him again after so many years.

It did not surprise me when he said that he was out of town and engaged throughout the day. I was sorry, but not surprised. I could tell from his tone of voice that he was not comfortable and I did my best to put him at ease. To this day, I do not know how much he knew about my impending kidnapping, but it was over and forgotten as far as I was concerned. I wished him well and concluded by saying I hoped one day we might meet face to face.

Later in the day I drove to his apartment, the very place where, years ago, I had walked down the marble steps, climbed into a waiting car and been driven not to see ailing hostages as I hoped, but to be confined to an underground cell.

My mind went back across the years to a dark, rainy night when I left my car and driver at the end of the street and walked the final 500m to the doctor's apartment. Then there was little or no traffic on the streets, because civil war was raging and it was dangerous to be out after dark. It was exactly as I remembered it.

Throughout the day, using various contacts, I attempted to get an invitation to visit Hezbollah. Dusk fell and there was nothing. Although I was beginning to wonder if I would get to see them before leaving the next morning, I was not entirely without hope, because I knew that they often chose to meet under the cover of darkness, deep in their own territory.

Beirut, situated on the Mediterranean, has some of the most wonderful sunsets and I sat for a while taking in the natural beauty and thinking how sad it was that this whole region had suffered so much across the years. The Lebanese were kindly and hospitable people at heart who had so frequently been pushed and pulled in all directions by political and religious forces. Would their turmoil never end?

THEN the call came. "You have a meeting with a senior official from Hezbollah at 10.30 tonight." I had something light to eat and then prepared for the drive down to the southern suburbs.

Hezbollah's former administrative headquarters had been razed to the ground some years ago in an Israeli attack and now they had wisely distributed their offices in various locations. We drove into a small compound and a young man came to raise a barrier to allow us to drive in.

I squeezed into a small lift and ascended several floors. I was guided along a small corridor and into a meeting room. I did not feel at all nervous.

My encounters in the past had long lost any negative power they had over me and I was determined to do what I could to make an individual act of reconciliation. As I said before, reconciliation between larger groups has to be made up of a thousand smaller acts of reconciliation.

After a few moments, Ammar Moussawi came into the room, dressed neatly in a brown jacket, brown trousers and shoes. He was walking with a slight limp. I learnt later that he had been wounded in one of the many conflicts that have been part of Lebanon's heritage.

I spoke without notes and started by saying that there were three points I wanted to make. First, that the past was the past. Although I had had my difficulties with Hezbollah, I had no hard feelings. Second, my sufferings were nothing compared with the sufferings so many people from all communities in Lebanon had suffered in the past. And third, I believed that reconciliation between all groups in the country was the only way forward.

I applauded the new spirit of cooperation that existed between the majority of Christian communities and Hezbollah and said that I would like to see this cooperation extended to encompass all people throughout the country. I further said that Hezbollah continued to have a very negative image in the West and I hoped this would improve. For my part, I would do what I could to change attitudes.

The way forward was clearly not their way of violence, but one of peace and reconciliation. The so-called Arab Spring had become a force of oppression, not of freedom, and one now saw chaos in Egypt, Libya and Syria. That chaos must not extend to Lebanon, for if it did, that would bring disaster to the whole region.

Hezbollah had a vital role in working for - and holding - the peace. I expressed my concern for the Christian groups that were leaving Syria and asked whether Hezbollah would make a gesture towards helping them, especially at Christmas. I said a positive gesture from Hezbollah would cement the agreement and be a step towards changing the group's negative image in many parts of the world.

When Moussawi replied, he was more relaxed. First, he denied that Hezbollah was responsible for my suffering. I did not challenge this, because I felt it would lead to a pointless argument. All I could say was that Hezbollah, like so many other groups of its kind, had grown and developed tremendously in the years since my captivity and that we had to look forward, not backwards.

He said Hezbollah would not take up arms except to defend itself, especially against Israel. As for the Christian refugees, he asked me to let him have a proposal and he would see if something could be done. He invited me to return to Lebanon when I would be able to meet other people from Hezbollah, an invitation I said I would be happy to accept. I left Lebanon the next morning for London, having, I felt, taken a few steps forward, both personally and on behalf of others.

LEBANON is once again standing on the brink. The waters of conflict lap closer and closer and it is vital for the country and for the whole region to hold together in peace. Old grudges and conflicts need to be confined to the past and all groups need to be encouraged and supported to move forward together.

From the Christian perspective, Lebanon is rapidly becoming the only country in the Middle East in which there remains a significant Christian presence. It was the late Pope John Paul II who said: "Lebanon is more than a country. It is a message of freedom and an example of pluralism for East and West."

All men and women can pray that will be true, but it requires more than prayer. It requires a change of heart, a change of attitude and political courage. I wonder if we shall be able to rise to the challenge. - ©The Telegraph, London

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