Beirut, a City in Crisis
Don McCullin
London, United Kingdom: New English Library Ltd, 1983
Language: English
11 in. (H) by 9 in. (W)
127 pages
How it runs, the way it runs, and why — to me, Lebanon is an enigma, an open mystery. It hurtles with great force toward the unknown and at once it sits still. But beneath the surface, beneath its many layers of energy and rich heritage, it broods. Lebanon, and Beirut in particular, has suffered greatly. In the quiet it tends to its wounds.
British photojournalist Don McCullin is one of very few photographers who, in the 1970s and 1980s, managed to capture Beirut’s turbulence for public study. Although his fascination with Lebanon before the beginning of its civil war in 1975 was highly romanticized, his photography thereafter was far from romantic.
Beirut, A City in Crisis is the most authoritative collection of McCullin’s work in Lebanon. The book itself is really two halves of a greater project, each half documenting an event that would shape Beirut’s social fabric and the region’s geopolitics for generations.
The first section covers the Karantina massacre of 1976 when Lebanese Christian nationalists and Phalange militants assaulted the La Quarantaine district of Beirut, home mainly to Muslim Palestinian refugees. The district was also a budding stronghold for supporters of the Palestinian Liberation Organization who hardline Lebanese nationalists viewed as unwelcome at best and subhuman at worst.
All told, up to 1,500 people, mostly Palestinians, were killed and the neighborhood was destroyed by fire and bulldozer in what would soon become the first of many massacres across Lebanon.
The second half of the book covers the Sabra and Shatila massacre of 1982. With the support of various Israeli military personnel now present in Beirut after invading earlier in the year, Lebanese Christian forces killed anywhere from 1,300 to over 3,000 Palestinian refugees and Lebanese Shia Muslims in Beirut’s Sabra neighborhood and Shatila refugee camp.
The indiscriminate killing and desecration of anything that moved lasted forty-three straight hours. The extent of the campaign still cannot be described. Current casualty estimates are thought to be conservative.
Compared to massacres of similar scale and duration, photographic documentation of the massacre in Karantina is light. The vast majority of imagery that reached global audiences was produced by foreign photojournalists. McCullin, who had earlier established rapport with Lebanese Phalangists, was one of them.
It was with this social currency that McCullin was able to gain access to chaotic scenes of unscripted violence and subsequent moments of intense despair. Other photographers were either not so lucky (McCullin himself was nearly killed by survivors in Karantina after providing a Phalange press pass) or unaware of the weight of the circumstances developing around them.
Sabra and Shatila was slightly different. Foreign photographers like McCullin captured what they could once the targeted areas were unsealed by the Israeli military.
Domestic journalists and photographers were also present but, as Lebanese-American photojournalist George Azar can attest, their work was either neglected by international media agencies, destroyed, lost, or “lost”.
McCullin’s coverage of the Sabra and Shatila massacre therefore diverged from his modus operandi. Rather than capturing the event in real time, he captured only its aftermath. But even then, his photographs are raw, unwavering, dark, heavy.
Across both sections of the book, the photographs are arranged chronologically and, especially in Karantina, with such narrow windows of time between them that the viewer will feel as though they are witnessing the scenes unfold in real time.
The crimes committed during both massacres did not occur in isolated settings hidden from public view. McCullin therefore brings the viewer to exposed back alleys, to hospitals full of abandoned children, to coastlines, to the rubble of demolished homes, to wide streets where assailants act without shame, and even to a mass grave.
Consequently, there is very little happiness in this book. Many subjects are distressed. Most are powerless. Some are viscerally screaming; others stare blankly. Only the Israeli and American soldiers who make brief appearances toward the end of book seem unbothered. It is a reminder once again that Beirut has suffered greatly and that it suffers alone.
I think this is McCullin’s best work. Much can be said about his exoticism of Lebanon and its people (in this collection of photographs about war, death, and the destruction of human decency, he fixates on the beauty of Lebanese women multiple times), and more can be said about what and who he chose to frame, how sensitively he framed them, and how he gained access to these scenes in the first place. But his photography nevertheless provides a permanent record of seminal heartbreaking moments in Beirut’s history.
Ratings:
Photography: 5.0/5
It is virtually impossible to flip through these photographs without taking a moment to think. They will elicit emotion. The compositions are excellent, and so is the editing. Blacks are rich and provide depth, and whites are actually light grey and soften the overall contrast in his photographs.
Layout, text, and curation: 5.0/5
The photographs are organized chronologically and allow the viewer to follow McCullin as he discovers, documents, and moves to the next scene. The captions are minimal and unintrusive and provide valuable context. Overall, the book is balanced, the themes are consistent, and the transition from Karantina to Sabra and Shatila is seamless.
Messaging: 3.0/5
Beirut, A City in Crisis delivers two messages. One is that the people of Beirut have suffered tremendous injustice. It does nothing to alleviate this injustice, but this is not McCullin’s responsibility. The second and probably the more prominent message is a showcase of McCullin’s recklessness – which he admits to and which also led to many of his most poignant images. The vanity can be more subtle, though.
Physical quality of the book: 4.5/5
This hardcover book is sturdy and has remained intact for many decades since this edition was printed. The cover is yellowing but that is a natural process. The pages themselves are luster and thick, and the binding is robust.
Accessibility: 3.5/5
This book is best appreciated by readers familiar with Lebanese history since the 1970s and who have a firm understanding of regional geopolitics. Someone without any knowledge of the region will at least still bear witness to the cruelty and inhumanity endured by so many Lebanese.
Overall experience: 4.2/5 (averaged score)
Beirut, A City in Crisis is one of my favorite photography books. The photographs are technically excellent and well curated. McCullin captures scenes we wish we could unsee but must face head on in order to appreciate Lebanon’s wounds. This book is difficult to find but effort should be made to find and explore it.