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Nour grips the remote control so tightly that the knuckles of her bruised hands turn white. Tears sting her eyes as she listens to experts from around the world speak of Beirut’s downfall. The sadness is overwhelming, too vast for her to fully grasp. Yet it’s anger that thrums within her. The fate of this city will not be sealed by those who have never rolled up their sleeves as she has in the last 24 hours. And as she will continue to do until the complete reconstruction of her city is done. Nour is a revolutionary.
August 5, 2020. Yesterday, the heart of the Lebanese capital was blown apart. At 24, Nour works with an NGO to develop low-energy housing for those in hardship. Beirut is her ancestral city: it’s under her skin, it’s her heritage, her struggle. Persistent and endearing, she’s a character in her own right. With her platinum blonde hair, she is easily spotted at general assemblies or demonstrations.
Nour turns off the television and powers up her computer. In minutes, she drafts an open letter to the institutions and the Lebanese people, calling for unity. She wants to raise an army: an army of thinkers. In the hours that follow, she receives hundreds of messages of support.
On the day, thousands gather at Martyrs’ Square despite authorities’ calls not to assemble. The media coverage is significant, reassuring Nour who feared severe repression. The gathering is peaceful. Nour knows that time is against the people and that the movement might wane. The troops are rallied in the form of a spontaneous think tank: men and women from all walks of life, merchants, artisans, scientists and intellectuals. The heart of Beirut beats strongly, and its mind in turmoil contemplates and suggests major societal changes. Sustainability is key.
After several weeks, the government finally resigns. It’s a first victory.
Nour is moved as she takes the microphone. It is with calm that she presents innovative ideas she believes in. It’s time to return power to the people and legitimacy to democracy. Thousands of voices fall silent yet speak in unison. The youth, having learned from its manifold destructions, now sweep away the ashes, for only from them can the phoenix rise anew, albeit vulnerably. Weary of resilience, the youth harness their last strength in an act of resistance.
Bolstered by the crowd’s encouragement and her unwavering faith in science and its transformative power, Nour finds herself detailing the hitherto untapped resources of her city amidst the apocalypse, the promises of tomorrow.
While great metropolises scrutinize the city’s descent into hell, Beirut on its knees returns to the basics. What if we completely rethought the urban model to return to its original essence: the living and the human? What if we built less ostentatious buildings, more functional ones, technologically designed to produce more energy than the residents consume? What if our engineers competed for ideas to minimize energy losses, taking advantage of the country’s mild climate? What if real estate developers thought not of money, but people?
Should the health crisis also experienced in 2020 not lead us to conclusions about the meaning of life? Omar the potter, Youssef the florist, Nadine the bookseller, Ahmad the cabinetmaker and Dima the haberdasher: they are the economic lung of Beirut. Money does not buy happiness; in Lebanon, it even breeds misery! Audacious, utopian, or anarchistic ideas, yet it is the word “barter” that now crosses the lips of the activist. Money doesn’t disappear from the equation, but why not lessen its importance? And what if “Made in Lebanon” became a habit? Local products, short supply chains, energy and economic independence, pride.
Rethinking the future around the public interest, Nour dreams and the public’s jubilation lifts her. She is not alone.
August 2045. It’s a lucid dream. Beirut is a model envied by the world’s greatest capitals. While each city turned inward and plunged into its own abyss, Beirut relishes its tranquility and sustainable prospects. They have been visionaries!
Nour stands upright, dignified, her blonde hair gleaming in the moonlight that illuminates it. She savors this moment, thinking that Beirut has become a beacon of light in the nights of the Orient. Many years after the battle of her life, she is far from imagining that her capital will guide others, and for the people of Beirut, the night will never again be black.
