A Time to Dig Out--and Rearm

Perhaps it was a late-dawning awareness of the extent of the destruction and horror. Perhaps it was sheer exhaustion. Perhaps it was only that the opposing sides needed a chance to replenish arms supplies. Whatever the reason, Beirut last week was tremulously observing a pause in the political-sectarian civil war that has killed at least 3,500, wounded 6,000 more, left more than $2 billion in property damage and destroyed the city's once freewheeling economy. Beirutis have seen eleven previous cease-fires come and swiftly go in the past eight weeks; few believed that the twelfth and newest would be lasting proof against the violence.

The cease-fire was the result of Premier Rashid Karami's tireless wheedling, pushing and talking with leaders of the rival warring factions (see box). But there was no agreement on any of the political issues that have divided Lebanon between conservative Christians, who constitute less than 40% of the population, and predominantly Moslem leftists, who are in the majority and want political reforms that would result in a more equitable distribution of power now largely in Christian hands.

The left had won a limited tactical victory the week before in the city's worst violence to date, and neither side gave up any key positions during last week's ceasefire. Christian Phalangists did leave some of the luxury hotels they had occupied in downtown Beirut but held on to the rocket-battered 26-story Holiday Inn. Leftists refused to budge from their commanding perch in the nearby 30-story, unfinished Murr Tower. Public cynicism about the cease-fire deepened when Karami's attempt to collect heavy weapons from both sides produced nothing. Kidnaping continued, and snipers killed ten on the third day of the truce.

Still, the situation was an improvement. "We must not remain hiding in our homes just because a shot is heard here or there," urged Announcer Sharif Akhawi of Radio Lebanon, who was the only source of reliable information for Lebanese during the fighting. Thus encouraged, Beirutis took advantage of the fragile peace. Many who had been trapped in their homes emerged--some in order to flee the city. Overflow lines of visa applicants waited outside the U.S. embassy. Most stores did not reopen, but sidewalk vendors--sometimes offering looted goods from those same closed stores--busily peddled everything from vegetables to fancy clothes. Suitcases were especially hot items. Traffic was nearly at normal bumper-to-bumper proportions in some areas, though it thinned out early each afternoon, particularly on streets dividing opposing sides. In one remarkable incident, fedayeen of Fatah, on orders from Palestine Liberation Organization Leader Yasser Arafat, brought food and water to some 100 Lebanese Jews who had been trapped in a synagogue that was close to some of the bloodiest street fighting.

Clean-up efforts began, but schools and most banks did not reopen, and most civil servants ignored Premier Karami's order to return to work. One suspicion was that the lull was only a "paycheck truce" during which the soldiers of the private militias involved would collect back salaries from local political bosses or other employers, get food for their families and rebuild their own supply of arms and ammunition.

Mysterious Army. There is certainly no problem finding arms. Leftist weapons flow through neighboring Syria; local distribution is controlled by the fedayeen. Libya and Iraq reportedly provide the money for the arms. Funding for the rightists comes from rich Lebanese Christians both inside and outside the country, but there are predictable suspicions that the U.S. may be involved, as well as Iran, Jordan and even Israel. In any case, the Christians buy most of their arms in Western and Eastern Europe through well-placed and long-established agents. Most shipments then come in by boat along the largely Christian-held coastline between Beirut and Tripoli.

Last week the discovery of one such shipment being unloaded threatened to finish the shaky truce on its fourth day. Tipped off in advance, the government had sent army troops to stop the delivery. The army's role has been curtailed throughout the crisis because of Moslem fears that its mostly Christian officer corps would favor the Phalangists. Sure enough, the army mysteriously failed to stop the weapon delivery. "The ship is still unloading," announced an obviously angry Karami, "although troops are surrounding the area and the ship itself. When the reasons for the army's inability to carry out its duties are known to me, I shall have a stand." As Karami once again contemplated resigning, Beirutis battened down in fear that the new strain would lead to another burst of fighting.

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