"They say it's only about respecting public space," said Shayya, the urban planner. "But in private they voice their elitist and sectarian inclinations about keeping all the poor people out of the park."
Still, uneasiness in Beirut is palpable. Violence between young Shiite and Sunni toughs has erupted numerous times over the last few years, and authorities fear that opening the park will create a powder keg.
Unlike "West Side Story," Lebanese don't mess around with knife fights. Many families have Kalashnikov assault rifles. During a dispute in August between Sunnis and Shiites over a parking space in the lower-middle-class neighborhood of Bourj Abi Haidar, some pulled out rocket-propelled grenade launchers.
But advocates such as Ayoub say the park could ease tensions among the country's religious groups by allowing them to interact. In Iraq, for instance, even during the darkest days of the civil war that pitted Shiites against Sunnis, Baghdad's 250-acre Zawra Park offered families a respite from the violence on the streets, albeit after a thorough pat-down.
"They keep saying that our young people are antisocial," Ayoub said. "But what do they expect when they have no other recreation except going on the Internet?"
Talking recently at a downtown Beirut cafe, City Councilman Choucair kept adding reasons to keep the park closed, even as he expressed hope that it would be opened by this summer.
He mentioned the threat of fires and sexual predators as well as concern that the tree branches were still not high enough to allow people to romp through the park.
"The people do not understand the challenges we face," he said. "The people have to be patient and understand our situation."
--
