Lebanon conflict resonates in mid-Mo.

Roger Nahas waited for the bombing to stop. He had presents for his parents, brothers and sister, but now he waits in Columbia for the end of the Israel-Hezbollah conflict, which threatens to destroy his native Beirut for the second time in as many decades.

Two weeks ago, Nahas, a 28-year-old chemistry doctoral student at MU, was supposed to leave Columbia to visit his family in Lebanon, but the escalating violence snuffed his plans.

“I waited and waited, hoping the situation would get better,” he said. “I didn’t expect it to last, so I didn’t cancel my ticket right away.”

For Nahas, the destruction is a replay of the civil war that ravaged Lebanon for 15 years from 1975 to 1991. Two of his three younger siblings have lost their jobs, and his family has had to abandon its business in Beirut and head for another home in the mountains northeast of Beirut. And as Israeli forces continue to pound the southern half of Lebanon in their hunt for Hezbollah militants, Nahas cannot help but cringe.

“It’s the same now, just like before,” Nahas said, referring to the civil war.

Nahas, a Christian, said that one year after the outset of the civil war, his family had to move from West Beirut, a predominantly Muslim area, to East Beirut, a mostly Christian zone. They had little choice in the matter.

“The militias took our house,” Nahas said.

In East Beirut, he grew up across the street from what he called the “Heartland of Hezbollah,” spending the majority of his youth trying to dodge the violent areas of the city.

“Our house was dangerous,” Nahas said. “I never saw my own balcony until the end of the civil war because of snipers.”

For 12 years during the war, his family would go for periods of up to a month without electricity as the country’s infrastructure fell prey to the incessant violence.

“I had to finish my homework before sunset,” he said.

The past 16 years has been a period of reconstruction and healing old wounds. But three weeks ago, everything changed as Israel began bombing targets in southern Lebanon, including the airport in Beirut, in response to Hezbollah’s capture of two Israeli soldiers. Parts of the cosmopolitan city lie in rubble, and the nation’s all-important tourism industry has been decimated.

Rani Jaafar, 24, an MU master’s student of geophysics, said that his homeland depends greatly on the summer tourist season and that people in the U.S. don’t get an accurate portrayal of what Beirut is really like.

“People here have a bad idea about it,” he said. “All the Gulf people vacation in Lebanon.”

Jaafar has been in Columbia since January and was planning to visit family and friends two weeks ago. But he, too, had to cancel his trip and said many of his friends have fled to other countries like Australia, Germany and Canada until the violence quells.

“A lot of people in Lebanon are Lebanese and something else,” he said, explaining that many of his friends have dual-citizenship in Lebanon and another country.

Jaafar is part Russian. His mother is Russian Orthodox Christian, and his father is Shiite Muslim. His parents had an opportunity to go to Russia, but instead they sought refuge at a family friend’s house in the mountains northeast of the city.

Nahas said he calls his parents on their cell phone daily for updates he cannot get on television. His father still returns to Beirut every few days to check on his jewelry store.

“I feel bad for my parents,” he said. “They suffer a lot.”

But not all people have a place of refuge from the violence. Jaafar said people in small villages often lack the money or the connections to be able to evacuate their homes. And even if they leave, he added, their bus might be attacked.

“You could say it’s a lose-lose situation,” Jaafar said. “If I stay, I might die. If I go, I might die.”

As Israel and Hezbollah battle on Lebanese soil, civilians increasingly find themselves in the line of fire. During almost three weeks of fighting, the Lebanese government has reported that almost 500 people have died. The Israeli government, meanwhile, has said that 19 Israeli civilians and 33 Israeli soldiers have been killed by Hezbollah missiles. Additionally, Israel’s blockade of Lebanese ports and borders has hindered attempts to get aid to damaged areas.

“I wish they would push more for a cease-fire, from a humanitarian point of view,” Nahas said, adding that such actions do little to stymie Hezbollah.

“It just hurts people like me and my parents,” Nahas said. “We’re tired of rebuilding the country over and over.”

No conflict is ever simple, and the violence in Lebanon is as illustrative as any example can be, with many nations having a political stake in the outcome. Iran supports Hezbollah ideologically and militarily, while the U.S. is unmoving in its support of Israel. But for people whose loved ones are caught in the middle, the stakes are painfully human.

“I feel, like, stuck in between Israel and Iran,” Nahas said.

In a country where 59 percent of the population is Muslim, and 39 percent Christian, many surely find themselves caught in the middle.

Hezbollah has always been a dividing force in Lebanon; its militia hold vast swaths of territory and is entrenched in the Lebanese government. After the end of hostilities in 1990, Hezbollah used an unresolved dispute over areas in the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights as a reason to remain armed. U.N. troops have been stationed in the area since 1978.

“I would personally like to see Hezbollah without weapons,” Nahas said. “But to be fair, they haven’t used them against the Lebanese.”

Nahas said he resents Iran’s support of Hezbollah and the slow response of Arab leaders in pushing for a cease-fire. He added that those nations who oppose Israel should not use Lebanon as their field of battle.

“They don’t have the right to support this war,” he said. “Why use Lebanon as a playground for them?”

But where one man sees aggression, another sees defense.

“I think that people in the Middle East have this very clear agenda that we shouldn’t be there,” said Benyamin Schwarz, an MU professor of environmental design whose parents survived the Holocaust.

Schwarz was born in the Czech Republic, and shortly after his birth his parents moved to the newly established state of Israel. Schwarz lived there until 1984.

His 36-year-old son lives with his wife and three children in northern Israel, while his two other children live in Columbia. Two days after the fighting broke out, Schwarz’s oldest son was called to active military duty, and his wife and children took refuge with friends and family in Tel Aviv.

The 59-year-old professor’s graying hair and quiet demeanor belie the fact that he fought in three wars during his mandatory service in the Israeli Defence Forces. During the Six-Day War in 1967, Schwarz was on active duty, but he was called up from the reserves in 1973 and 1982. Schwarz almost died of internal bleeding from what he said might have been a concussion in the October 1973 war between Israel and Egypt and Syria, known as the Yom Kippur War in Israel and the Ramadan War in the Arab world.

Schwarz’s son was in Columbia just over a month ago for his sister’s wedding. But upon his return to Israel, there was little cause for celebration.

“When he came back (to Israel), obviously things had changed dramatically from the happenings of our family,” Schwarz said.

In Israel, military service is compulsory for men and women. Men serve three years of active duty and are technically in the reserves until their early 50s. Women serve two years of active duty.

“Like anybody else in Israel at this point and the right ages, he’s trying to do the right things,” Schwarz said.

Rabbi Yossi Feintuch of the Congregation Beth Shalom in Columbia said the military plays a vital role in modern Israeli culture. Feintuch, who grew up in northern Israel and moved to Columbia in 1997, said young men take great pride in being a part of elite forces. He himself is a veteran of the 1973 war.

“It’s a litmus test of being a true Israeli,” he said.

Many times before, the Israeli army clashed with the armies of its neighbors, uniformed soldier against uniformed soldier.

But Hamas and Hezbollah are organized militias and employ urban guerrilla tactics to blend in with civilians.

Schwarz said Hezbollah has taken up the mantle of “a social movement that is embedded in the society,” with tactics that pose a massive ethical problem for Israel.

“It’s almost like fighting with one hand behind your back,” he said. “You don’t want to kill civilians, but who are those people?”

With so much talk about conflict, Schwarz said he thinks most people want to live their lives in peace.

“The majority of the Palestinians in the world want peace,” he said. “The majority of the Lebanese don’t need this crap.”

For Feintuch, the conflict is part of a larger puzzle that has complicated peace talks for decades. He also fears that peace is an idyllic notion. He pointed to a Hebrew hymn parents used to sing to their children after the 1973 war that resonates for all involved in this crisis.

“I promise you my little daughter that this will be the last war,” he read. But, closing the book, his face lapsed into a blank sadness:

“They don’t sing this song anymore because it is a lie.”