Goodbye, Beirut

Goodbye, Beirut

[caption id="attachment_55244786" align="alignnone" width="594"]Lebanese American University of Beirut alumni. (Anwar Amro/AFP/Getty Images) Lebanese American University of Beirut alumni. (Anwar Amro/AFP/Getty Images)[/caption]I recently read the results of a survey conducted by Saint Joseph University in Beirut on the reasons Lebanese people emigrate with great astonishment. I did not doubt the results, published by one of the finest universities in Lebanon, but was amazed by what they found. In my mind, the main reason to emigrate is the security situation. That is one of the main things that make me seriously consider leaving: I want safety for my children, despite my strong connection to this country. I know Lebanon would be a wonderful place to live were it not for the worries over security—and, of course, the politicians.

But what really stands out in this study is that the security factor is almost the last concern; most people who responded to the poll said that the reason they emigrated was to look for work. It is unfortunate that financial concerns have begun to supersede worries about security among young Lebanese people. We seem to have grown used to explosions, kidnappings, rocket attacks and party clashes, but despair when we think about our career prospects and the future.

The figures say it all. Lebanon is a country where the minimum wage is USD 450 per month and a small flat in the outer suburbs of Beirut costs, at the very least, USD 100,000. Simple arithmetic shows that it would take a young Lebanese person on minimum wage at least fifty-five years to pay that off, not including interest payments, as financial regulations in Lebanon mean you cannot have mortgage repayments that equal more than one third of your salary. And that is only if we controversially assume that someone can live on USD 300 a month (the electricity bill from private generators alone is USD 150). These calculations are vastly simplified, of course, but it is clear that nobody can live on this minimum wage. This demonstrates the depth of the labor crisis among the Lebanese youth.

What makes this crisis even worse is that large numbers of emigrants are university graduates. The study conducted by Saint Joseph University highlighted that 43.4 percent of emigrants aged 18 to 35 were graduates and that 37 percent of those were specialists in engineering, science and technology. In addition, 30 percent of them were graduates in administration and services, and 13 percent were graduates in medicine. Moreover, the results show that more than half of the respondents (54 percent) had no intention of returning to Lebanon. A further 28 percent had yet to make up their minds, and only 18 percent said that they did intend to return.

At times, I wish that the bodyguards at the barricades and the political mercenaries would pack their bags and go as far away as possible; to be separated from them would be a blessing. But for young, educated people to leave their country—for Lebanon to become a nation hemorrhaging young people—is something close to a tragedy.

I am not opposed to emigration in search of work—often an unavoidable choice. And it is not all bad news for Lebanon: remittances from overseas Lebanese workers amounted to USD 7.5 billion last year, around 17 percent of Lebanon’s total GDP and more than the value of its exports. But it is still upsetting that Lebanon is losing over half of its bright young citizens forever as they search for what they cannot find at home.
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