Thanks to a CBRL Travel Grant, I spent three fruitful weeks in Beirut in September 2015, gathering material for two projects. Firstly, I conducted research for a forthcoming publication on the history of Lebanon under contract with Cambridge University Press and secondly, I conducted fieldwork for an account of contemporary Lebanon I am currently completing for Hurst. As an Affiliate of the American University of Beirut’s Centre for Arab and Middle Eastern Studies, I was able to spend much of my time wandering about the stacks of the University’s wonderful Jafet Library, chasing down long sought-after leads and happily stumbling on new discoveries. The Director of the Centre for Arab and Middle Easter Studies, Waleed Hazbun, proved a tremendously welcoming and supportive host. My time at the American University of Beirut thus allowed me to take full advantage of its exceptionally rich collection of rare Arabic language periodicals, early Arabic books, official publications, memoirs, novels and anthologies of primary sources. As I now sit down to write the history of the lands that make up the modern state of Lebanon, I find myself returning again and again to the ream of notes I accumulated in those three weeks. For these texts, closely crammed together on the Jafet’s wood and aluminium shelves, teem with long silent voices from the past, voices that provide new insights into the social, economic, political, cultural and intellectual history of these storied regions.
In addition, my time in Beirut offered me the opportunity to dip my toes into the American University of Beirut’s special collections. The contents of this vast and under-exploited resource range from the university’s own archives—a fascinating record of a century and a half of American involvement in the Middle East—to the private papers of significant figures such as the turn-of-the-century editor and man of letters Jurji Zaydan or the historian, philosopher and university teacher Qustantin Zurayq. These archives have undergone significant reorganization in recent years at the hands of an expert team working under the direction of Kaoukab Chebaro, and I owe a debt of gratitude to Samar Mikati, Nadine Knesevitch, Dalia Nouh and Kamilia Kassis for the generosity with which they shared their knowledge, and for their good grace in the face of my constant requests and questions. At a time when so many archives across the Middle East are closed off by conflict and restrictive accession policies, the American University of Beirut’s archives and special collections are a veritable treasure trove for historians of the region. This is already apparent from the work of Melanie Tanielian and Keith Watenpaugh, who have drawn on these archives to reconstruct the ragged, painful history of famine in First World War Mount Lebanon. The forthcoming work of Zeina Maasri and Hana Sleiman on the intellectual history of the postcolonial Middle East will also confirm the importance of the archives.
Not all my time, however, was spent in the enclosed spaces of the library and the archives. Many colleagues in Beirut offered warm company and stimulating intellectual exchange. These include the indefatigable Nadya Sbaiti, Mona Fawaz, Samer Frangieh and Abir Saksouk-Sasso, who all generously shared their time and knowledge of Lebanon’s past and present. Indeed, my spell in Beirut coincided with the height of the trash crisis that began late that July, which remains unresolved, despite the Lebanese government’s assurances to the contrary. These three weeks, then, certainly offered sobering insight into the failings of the contemporary Lebanese state which appeared to be a state unable to offer its citizens potable water, functioning electricity, or regular rubbish collection, let alone affordable housing, environmental security, or working internet connections. Nevertheless, my visit also left me, foolish as it may sound, with a sense of optimism; this was an optimism born of my admiration for the anger, the passion, the humour and commitment and creativity of the many scholars, activists, and ordinary people I met in Beirut who are committed to building a new, more equitable and less precarious society. This makes me all the more grateful to the Council for British Research in the Levant, for affording me the opportunity to learn so much, and for allowing me to fall in love all over again with Beirut and its people.