10 Strange and Fascinating Truths About Lebanese Society

10 Strange and Fascinating Truths About Lebanese Society

Lebanon stands in opposition to all simple categorization. It is a country of breathtaking beauty and profound chaos, where ancient history clashes with hyper-modernity, and deep-seated tradition coexists with radical liberalism. To the outside world, it is frequently confined to headlines about political instability or economic crisis. But to understand Lebanon is to understand its people-a society of immense complexity, contradiction, and resilience. Here are ten aspects of Lebanese society that to outsiders might seem strange but are fundamental in understanding this nation's unique soul.

#### 1. The "No State" State: A Society Built on DIY Resourcefulness

One of the most jarring and strange realities for visitors is the phenomenon of the "absent state." For decades, the Lebanese government has supplied notoriously unreliable electricity, water, and telecommunications. The official power supply might be available for only a few hours a day. The response? A massive, privatized, parallel economy. Nearly every building in the country is hooked up to a *générateur* (private generator) for which residents pay a separate, often hefty, monthly bill. Water tanks on rooftops and private wells are the norm. This has created a society that is incredibly self-reliant and entrepreneurial out of sheer necessity. The Lebanese have become masters of building systems that bypass the state entirely-a trait that is both a testament to their ingenuity and a symptom of a deeply broken social contract.

#### 2. The Sectarian GPS: Knowing Someone's Religion in 30 Seconds

In most countries, small talk may reveal where you work or what you study. In Lebanon, within moments of meeting someone, it is often possible to discern their religious sect: Sunni, Shia, Maronite Christian, Greek Orthodox, Druze, etc. This isn't always done crudely; it's woven into the social fabric through a series of subtle cues: the name, Jean-Pierre vs. Hassan, the village of origin, Jbeil vs. Nabatieh, the specific saint one mentions, or even the turn of phrase. This "sectarian GPS" is a survival mechanism in a political system where power is rigidly divided along confessional lines. It’s a strange and often uncomfortable reality that dictates not just politics, but also social circles, business networks, and often, marriage prospects.

#### 3. Plastic Surgery Capital of the Middle East

In a region known for its conservative values in some quarters, Lebanon, and particularly Beirut, is a stunning outlier. It is the undisputed cosmetic surgery capital of the Middle East, with a per capita rate of procedures that rivals South Korea. Nose jobs, breast augmentations, and liposuction are not taboo subjects but common conversation starters and popular high school graduation gifts. This fascination with physical perfection can be a complex phenomenon. It reflects a culture that places immense premium on aesthetics, social status, and outward presentation. It is also, for some, the way to exert control in a society where so much feels uncontrollable—a personal transformation in a world of public chaos.

#### 4. The "We Killed a Prime Minister" Amnesia

Modern Lebanese history has been a tapestry of violence and political assassinations, most notably the 2005 killing of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri. It is here that the peculiarity in the national psyche with regard to these events lies. While the political class points fingers, often the general populace functions on a kind of collective, willful amnesia. The perpetrators of the 15-year-long civil war from 1975 to 1990 became the leaders of the post-war era. Warlords are parliamentarians now. This isn't because people have forgotten; it's a complex coping mechanism. For there to be any semblance of life in a small, interconnected country, one cannot constantly dwell on the past, demanding accountability. It’s a fragile, pragmatic peace built on a foundation of unspoken truths.

#### 5. The PhD as a Status Symbol and Taxi Driver Accessory

Lebanon is home to one of the highest literacy and PhD holders in the Arab world, while education remains a holy cow and non-negotiable part of family ambition. The weirdness can then be found in how this highly educated population just can't get absorbed into its economy. It becomes this running, sad joke that your taxi driver is likely an engineer with a master's degree, and your plumber a former professor of French literature. This disconnect between immense human capital and a stunted, nepotistic economy creates a society of overqualified, underemployed people, fueling a deep-seated frustration that is among the primary drivers of the country's massive brain drain.

6. The "Shameful" Act of Throwing Garbage in the Bin This may be the most viscerally strange phenomenon for a newcomer: despite a profound garbage crisis that has seen mountains of trash pile up on the sides of highways and in riverbeds, you will often see a Lebanese person meticulously wrap a candy bar wrapper in a plastic bag, only to then roll down their car window and toss it onto the street. The cognitive dissonance is staggering. A sociological explanation is needed: civic duty, for many, ends at their private property. The home is kept spotlessly clean, while the public space is seen as "someone else's problem"—usually the government's, which has consistently failed in its duties. This creates a tragic cycle where individual action exacerbates a collective failure. #### 7. The 15-Minute "Lebanese Maybe" Punctuality is a very fluid concept in Lebanon. One well-known social code is the "Lebanese Maybe." When invited for 9:00 PM, it's axiomatic that this actually means 9:30 or 10:00 PM. It is not considered rude; this is how things go. Moreover, "See you there *inshallah*" often means "There's a 50/50 chance I'll show up, depending on my mood, traffic, or a better offer." This relationship with time is rooted both in a chaotic urban environment-notorious traffic jams-but also in a cultural emphasis on social spontaneity over rigid scheduling. #### 8. The National PTSD Disguised as "Joie de Vivre" It is true that Lebanon is famous for its legendary nightlife, its bustling cafes, and its "joie de vivre." But seasoned observers know that this is the flip side of a deep, collective national PTSD. After decades of war and instability, the mentality can oftentimes be, "We could die tomorrow, so let's live tonight." The endless partying, the egregious spending even when in economic collapse, and the obsession with celebration are not only hedonism but a deep, collective psychological response to trauma-a form of resistance through revelry, a way to scream in the face of an uncertain future. #### 9. The Village is Your Permanent Address, Even from Abroad An estimated 14 million people of Lebanese descent live outside of Lebanon, a number far dwarfing the domestic population of approximately 4.5 million. To this vast diaspora, a powerful and strange connection remains. No matter whether their family left three generations ago, a Lebanese-Canadian or a Lebanese-Brazilian will fiercely identify with their ancestral village (*el belled*). They will know its name, its customs, and its political leanings. They will send money back (*remittances* are a cornerstone of the economy), and many hope to be buried there. This creates a nation whose heart and influence are globally dispersed, making it a truly transnational society. #### 10. The Ultimate Paradox: A Fierce Love for a Country That Doesn't "Work" Perhaps the strangest truth of all is the unyielding, almost pathological, love the Lebanese have for their country, despite its endless failures. Ask them a question, and they will spend an hour detailing everything that is wrong with Lebanon-the corruption, the traffic, the sectarianism, and the inefficiency. In the same breath, they will tell you it is the most beautiful country on earth, has the best food, the most resilient people, and the richest culture. That is not a contradiction to them; it's the core of their identity. They feel possessive over their homeland's potential and its flaws. It is a love that is critical, passionate, and heartbreaking-a bond that persists even when millions are forced to leave in search of a functional life. In conclusion, these ten points show that Lebanese society constitutes a vital laboratory of human adaptation, where the failure of public institutions has bred radical private enterprise, deep historical wounds are masked by a vibrant social life, and a global diaspora remains tethered to a tiny, troubled piece of land. In short, the "strangeness" is a logical but extreme product of people dealing with a reality where the one constant seems to be that of contradiction itself.