To
some Lebanese, they are an army -- a horde of Syrian
workers who do the menial jobs in Lebanon and mirror
the presence of troops who are part of the military
and political grip Syria has on its smaller neighbour.
Few Lebanese, however, are in a hurry to wrest their
freedom by picking the potatoes and heaving the bricks
now moved by Syrians, who find a living they could
never make at home in the jobs that their cousins
to the west sneer at.
"They
will sleep in a wrecked building, wear the same clothes
for days, live on next to nothing while they are here.
No one can compete with this," said Faysal, a Lebanese
plumbing contractor. "No one wants to, really."
Statistics are often touchy in Lebanon -- where no
census is possible because it would threaten the shaky
balance of power among the confessional groups that
fought the 1975-1990 civil war -- but no more so than
when it comes to workers who are one face of Lebanese-Syrian
ties as close as they are uneasy.
Lebanon's Labour Ministry estimates there were about
54,000 foreign workers registered in 2000. Conservative
Christian groups that are the main opposition to Syrian
influence speak of a million or more workers of Syrian
origin in a country of about four million.
The truth, analysts say, lies somewhere in the middle
and shows that even for Lebanese who chafe at a relationship
Syria describes as "one people in two countries",
their economic interests are separate from their patriotic
sensibilities.
"This
is not a one-way love affair; it goes both ways,"
said one analyst -- who preferred not to be named
-- of the preponderance of agricultural and construction
workers from Syria, which has a GDP roughly equivalent
to Lebanon's but a population about four times bigger.
"My
conviction is that there are 300,000 to 350,000 Syrian
workers, some who come for seasonal labour, some who
remain for building projects, and a small number in
the service sector, hotels and personal services.
"It's
a relationship between the Lebanese employer and the
foreign labour, and what makes it go is the desire
of employers to lower their costs in the face of existing
regulations."
OFF THE BOOKS, ACROSS THE COUNTRY
Those regulations include tax and social security
contributions that all observers agree give employers
a reason to avoid Lebanese workers, but more than
the law is keeping the Lebanese from digging their
own ditches.
"The
matter quickly gets complicated when you are talking
about the readiness of Lebanese to work in jobs that
were previously the province of non-Lebanese," said
Kamal Hamdan, an economist who has studied migrant
labour in Lebanon.
"They
are not really prepared to enter this work which they
look down on, and it's a question of the entire society
and its willingness to enter into these things that
they look down on."
Historically, he argues, jobs of the sorts filled
by Syrians have frequently fallen to foreigners, and
even rising unemployment -- which the United Nations
estimated at 29 percent in 2000 for people aged from
15 to 24 -- is not enough to change that.
The result is a sight that has became familiar --
Syrian workers living in shell-pocked buildings in
Beirut or on their construction sites, or in shacks
and tents thrown up on the rust-coloured soil of farms
in the Bekaa valley.
THE HIGH-MAINTENANCE LEBANESE WORKER
In the eyes of some, it is an unbearable provocation:
several Syrian workers were killed in 2001 in shooting
or grenade attacks on their quarters, though Lebanese
security officials have called some of the latter
episodes accidents.
The attacks were widely read in Lebanon as a sign
of anger at Syria's consolidation of post-war power
in Lebanon, where it has about 20,000 troops and broad
influence over the presidency, judiciary, military
and security services.
Syria's military presence dates back to the early
days of the civil war, when it intervened to keep
Muslim and Palestinian fighters from overwhelming
Christian militias. Damascus later turned on those
Christians after they backed its enemy Israel.
Syria then sponsored a pact to end the war that justified
-- at least temporarily -- its military presence in
Lebanon, which opponents of Syrian influence say is
just one symptom of an unhealthy power relationship
between the two countries.
Samer Meshaalany, a civil engineer and organiser for
a Christian-based opposition group that wants Syria
out of Lebanon, says the Syrian labour phenomenon
shows clearly that both countries need to rethink
their ties.
"Everyone
knows that there are defects in the Lebanese-Syrian
relationship, and we want the best possible relations
with Syria," he said.
"When
it comes to the workers, we need them but we need
them without them taking the place of Lebanese who
would be paying taxes, and without employers whose
priority should be their own country."
He laments the fact that many Lebanese, whatever their
resentment of Syrian workers, would never deign to
take on the jobs that may yield $15 to 25 daily --
well beyond what the average Syrian civil servant,
let alone labourer, makes.
"Lebanese
who own businesses, and contractors, play a big role
and have a responsibility, but the Lebanese who owns
a workshop and used to work with his own hands has
got used to getting a Syrian to do it for him," he
said.
Ghazi Ibrahim, a 28-year-old Syrian who has worked
on and off in Lebanon since his military service here,
agreed.
As he sat at a traffic island in central Beirut where
contractors hire day labourers, nearly all of them
Syrian, he cited the Lebanese unwillingness to stoop
to manual labour and tough living conditions that
allow him to send his earnings home.
"Everywhere
that I've worked it's been the same: if there are
Syrian workers, especially for the hard physical things,
it gets done faster and with no hitches, which is
something that they are not used to having if Lebanese
are involved," he said.
"It's
a question of putting up with some discomfort and
inconvenience for the gain for me, but for them it's
costing next to nothing and they are getting the results
they want."
