In Lebanon, the price of gas ‘fuels’ isolation and empties streets

On its part, a study by Carnegie Mellon University also confirms that loneliness reduces the body's ability to resist cold and diseases, promotes food addiction and other behaviours, and causes a decline in mental health and dementia, leading to sudden death.

Statistics issued in 2016 by the International Institute of Health Metrics (IHME) shows that obesity among the Lebanese has increased to dangerous levels to 31%, while the percentage of those who are overweight stands at 67.9%.

Given that it has been seven years since the study was conducted and the situation in Lebanon has gone from bad to worse, these statistics are likely to increase.

Reality indicates that people turn their bodies into stockrooms to store food out of a masked feeling of starvation. Additionally, 'big bellies' act as a barricade that spares them from communicating their feelings.

Empty shops leave hostile void

A large number of shops, libraries, cafes, cinemas, and theatres that used to forge people's memories have closed their doors in the past few years. "Beirut Theatre", which closed in 2011, was an early warning of future crises. The "Empire Metropolis Sofil" cinema was closed in 2020. Hamra Café, Antoine Library in Beirut Souks, and YN Bookstore, have also been closed, to name a few.

The fact that these were not natural closures and felt to many like deliberate assassinations, has increased feelings of sadness, nostalgia and mourning, leaving scars that possibly will never heal.

The ruins of these empty places remain in the public space, for all to be seen.

Dating back to the 1950s, the Domtex shop for linens on Beirut's popular Al-Hamra Street was closed at the end of 2022. It was a landmark for those visiting the area. Its famous staircase was a meeting place for lovers and for those simply wishing to enjoy the spirit of the place.

It has left a void suspended in the street space, with nothing new to replace it. Into the depths of the space, people can only see emptiness.

Shaped like a miniature square, the shop's staircase, which once attracted people, is now empty. Despite the fact that the closure made the staircase more available, no one can bring themselves to sit on these once-cherished steps anymore. The staircase and the meaning it held in people's hearts has now perished.

Cars are now a luxury

Fuel in Lebanon can no longer transport and connect people. Unaffordable for many people, fuel has emptied streets and isolated people from one another. The outdoors have become a hostile and inaccessible place. This lack of connectivity has negatively impacted communication and relationships between people.

Travelling by taxi or "minibus" has turned into a charged and routine dispute between a broke passenger and a driver who believes it's his right to set his fairs to the price of the dollar on the black market — which has now exceeded 80,000 liras.

For those who can still afford to travel in their own private cars, trips have become functional and limited to driving to work or buying necessary goods. In fact, Lebanese are now sarcastically referring to private cars "tourist cars" – meaning that only those living abroad are able to afford such a luxury.

The sale of small cars that do not consume a lot of fuel have skyrocketed and their prices have increased, while larger cars with higher fuel consumption have become cheaper.

In the absence of quality control and high customs prices, trading is limited to used cars that are already in the country, or those that were imported and stored before the decision to raise the customs tariff was issued. Most of these cars are not very safe and durable. Good car brands are no longer affordable for the majority of Lebanese.

As a result, more people are using motorcycles —a nightmare scenario for Lebanese, because they are often used to intimidate or even steal from people.

Daily struggles

Daily life in Lebanon has turned into a string of arduous struggles just to get through the day.

While traffic jams have always been commonplace in Beirut, nowadays they are largely caused by currency exchangers on motorcycles who are delivering to those buying and selling dollars.

These bikes line the sidewalks, along with a group of cars that belong to private customers or to armed undercover guards. This clogging of the streets creates an artificial crowdedness to make up for the lack of people in the streets.

Lebanon's nightlife has become a reflection of the jungle people find themselves living in. There are no streetlights and traffic lights are usually switched off. Crossing the road has become a life-or-death proposition for pedestrians.

Even the gathering of people in the street to protest — often in the form of blocking a road or setting cars on fire — is no longer cheered as revolutionary act. People have become jaded and have realised that such acts are futile and will never produce results.

In this setting, people's houses which once were a place for socialisation have been transformed isolated caves. People no longer reside in their homes, but instead seek refuge in it. People stand guard in their homes trying to banish the scary outside world, which has manifested in the form of thieves, rapists, or murderers.

A permanent pandemic

The region is reeling under the impact of a devastating series of earthquakes that hit neighbouring countries and led to tens of thousands of fatalities. Lebanon experienced weak aftershocks and earthquakes that did not result in destruction or casualties.

Traumatised by what happened in Turkey and Syria, Lebanese hysterically poured into the streets during the aftershocks. People were shaking and could not sleep.

This came after a very traumatic and isolating period during the Corona pandemic, which included quarantines and curfews.

This quarantine seems to have extended into permanent reality now and has become a part of people's daily life. It seems this 'pandemic' is here to stay. It is no longer a thing of the past but now has a firm grip on the present.

It haunts the future of the Lebanese people who live in a place where nothing grows and flourishes except for fear and isolation.