Paul Chaoul: Humans are drifting toward a state of emptiness

For him, the city is a place that embraces diversity and spaciousness. 

Al-Hamra Street, for example, was once "a street in a city, and a city in the street; a theatre for the activities of all political and cultural models — Arab and foreign ones alike. The end of this street began with the beginning of the Lebanese civil war, which wiped out diversity in exchange for unilateralism," he told me.

Beirut is one of many cities that experiences what he calls 'city dwindling.' 

The concept of the city, in general, is being threatened worldwide. Many occurrences have shifted people into the virtual world, the most recent is Covid, diminishing the need for direct human interaction.  

Technology a threat to intellectualism

The world's most famous search engine, Google, is developing a new linguistic system that threatens general language and poetry. Opposing this move, Chaoul asks people to return to books. He believes that technology leads to laziness and intellectual dullness.

Chaoul believes that although technology has helped spread information, it has hindered people's ability to think.

"There is no need for physical spaces anymore, now that everything happens behind screens. Technology has forced us into isolation, obstructing thinking, poetry, and the arts in general," Chaoul says.

He adds: "Production in any field is created via direct encounters and interaction. Before this wave, people used to meet and discuss, and cities were spaces for meeting, interaction, and debating ideas and projects."

"Unfortunately," he goes on, "this culture has disappeared. People no longer go to movie theatres to watch films. Instead, broadcasting platforms provide them with content to watch on their private home screens."

"Libraries have faced a similar fate as e-books took over. And writing, even that which requires reflection, like poetry, is published immediately. Poets today circulate their poems online as soon as they've finished writing them."

Chaoul warned that if the situation worsened, universities would soon disappear. 

"Permanent and inevitable progress is no longer guaranteed. There is no doubt the world is going backwards," he said.      

A different kind of isolation

In the face of empty technological isolation, Chaoul is keen on adopting a different type of isolation inhabited by thoughts, words, and their echo.  

"Poetry is the offspring of solitude and has always faced the world alone," Chaoul said, repeating this phrase twice.

He added: "I live in a rich isolation full of conceptualisation. I write content outside of public taste, not for one class or group. I come from reality and express it, but I don't let it shape my language or sentiment."

He expressed his fear of calculated language infiltrating everything, including poetry. 

"We now live with an ideology of emptiness… Poets since the 19th century have been lonely, and poetry has always been a space for the unique. Meaningful poems don't target the masses."

A culture of forgetting  

There are no policies to preserve our memories in Lebanon.

Forgetfulness and erasure are a substantial part of the culture, leaving way for idle talk and gossip, as if the country has no history, or did not produce generations of writers, artists, musicians, poets, and playwrights.

Chaoul spoke sadly of this total oblivion of the country's history. 

"The generation before us was fortunate because we read, appreciated, discussed, disagreed with, and wrote research papers about it. Now things are completely different, as great names are forgotten," he explains.

"Who today remembers Issam Mahfouz, for example? There is no memory in this country. The families of deceased writers have to spend their own money on republishing their volumes. But there is no official interest."  

When we asked him how he defends himself and his accomplishments in the face of this threat, he answers, "People love me. I make an effort with young people and celebrate their writings in the hope that I will enjoy the same attention given to the generation before me — that I will be read and studied as they were." 

"I believe the output of young generations in the Arab world calls for optimism. I find texts whose authors engage with the heritage without following anyone's lead. Ideological polarisation has fortunately died out; every young poet and writer today is distinct and independent, bearing their imprints. I love them, read them, and hope to carry on through them." 

The defeat of democracy

Chaoul admitted his defeat. 

"Our dream has been defeated. All that we fought for on the streets, all the liberal ideas and dreams of democracy and freedoms, has been defeated."

In a forthcoming book entitled "The Savage Poem," he tackles this dissipation with a soft tone aimed at peeling off the thick skin of defeat. The name implies it is a long, complex, and indirect poem.

"In my new book I tried to write an abrasive poem that reflects the ruggedness of the world. I was keen to defend the right of reproducing new meanings from the old and ancient. Yes, we are defeated, and the world has become mindless, and is run by madmen."

As we approached the end of our conversation, Chaoul was hit with nostalgia, and I could almost see in his eyes and on his features the images, places, and faces of the friends he's lost that he spoke of.

He spoke as if he was reciting a final poem.

"The street was our home, and when she died, that death haunted us and occupied our rooms. Places occupy our bodies. I yearn for my friends and for a street that was once my identity and family. I used to study and marvel at the trees, memorising every detail, but now, there is nothing but ruins."