A Beirut Fire Brigades truck waves a bloodied Lebanese flag to commemorate the forth anniversary of the Beirut Port blast, on Aug. 4, 2024. (Credit: Matthieu Karam/L'Orient-Le Jour)
BEIRUT — Hundreds of people fill the streets of Beirut with the sounds of their chants:
“[Ghassan] Oueidat listen closely, from the streets, we’ll never leave. To the nitrate government: It’s your silence we’ve grown to hate. The blood of our martyrs: We’ll never let you forget.”
As they have done every year since the deadly Beirut Port blast of Aug. 4, 2020, demonstrators and the victims’ families are gathered both in Martyr’s Square and at the Beirut Fire Brigade in Karantina to march toward the scene of the crime.
While the day marks four years since the nuclear-level explosion that killed 235 people, injured 6,500 more, and left over 77,000 homes destroyed, it also marks four years since then-Interior Minister Mohammad Fahmi promised the country that an “independent investigation” would reveal the details of the crime in “five days.” It’s been 1,461 days since that statement, and not a single person has been charged with a crime related to the blast.
Demonstrators carry pictures of victims of the Beirut Port blast to commemorate the forth anniversary of the Beirut Port blast, on Aug. 4, 2024. (Credit: João Sousa/L'Orient Today)
Justice and solidarity first, grief second
“In my opinion, we shouldn’t be marching towards the Port. The people who killed your children aren’t hiding in the silos,” says Rawad Jalloul, 19, during Sunday's march, “We should turn around and march towards the Parliament. That’s where they are.”
In Jalloul’s view, a march to mourn should only happen when the families of the victims finally get justice.
“We want the criminals to be named,” says George Pezekhian, father of Jessica Pezekhian who was killed by the blast at just 22 years old. “Who let the shipment in, who paid, who was paid and who knew and didn’t say anything.”
The Port explosion was the result of 2,750 tons of ammonium nitrate — neglected and improperly stored in a hangar — catching fire. The nitrate had been stored at the Port since 2013, with reports of ministers, Port and security officials and even former President Michel Aoun knowing of the chemical’s presence there and the danger it posed, according to an investigation by Human Rights Watch.
“Nothing we or anyone can do can bring my brother back,” says Rima, sister of Amin Zahed, who was killed in the blast during his duty as a port employee, “But I need everyone to remember: this could’ve happened to you too.”
A woman cries while holding a picture of one of the victims of the Beirut Port blast during its forth commemoration on Aug. 4, 2024. (Credit: João Sousa/L'Orient Today)
Frustration and anger brew under each and every statement as the judicial case stagnates. The fact that some of the officials accused of the crime remain in their positions of power only aggravates it further.
Standing on a makeshift stage overlooking the Beirut Port, Cecile Roukoz, sister of Joseph Roukoz who was killed while at work at the shipping company CMA CGM, declares that today those responsible for the crime and for obstructing justice deserve to be tried in the “people’s court.”
As Roukoz calls out politicians and officials accused of the crime name by name, the crowd cheers, and nearby their heads are being hung on pickets, covered in blood, with the word “criminal” over them.
“And Ghassan Oueidat, the worst one of all,” Roukoz adds, referring to the former Public Prosecutor at the Court of Cassation who retired in February, after three and a half years of obstructing the investigation.
Despite being the brother-in-law of one of the accused (then Public Works Minister Ghazi Zaiter), Ouiedat refused to recuse himself from the case and instead charged the case’s investigative judge Tarek Bitar with “usurping of power” and “rebellion against justice” and placed him under a travel ban in January 2023. Coincidentally, this happened a few days after Bitar had accused and detained 17 politicians and security officials in the case — Oueidat included.
Oueidat eventually retired a year and one month later and was replaced by Judge Jamal Hajjar. But today, in August 2024, the charges against Bitar remain, and Hajjar is the only one who can reverse them.
“We believe in you,” says Roukoz, who is also a lawyer, addressing the judicial system. “Although you are doing your jobs, we also believe you are resisting the corrupted government.”
George Fares, father of Sahar Fares, one of the firefighters who was killed by the blast, tells L’Orient Today, “Those responsible are criminals, but today they remain ‘accused’ because they are evading both justice and the law.”
Legal action
MP Mark Daou (Aley district) stands in the shade of what was once The Grey Hotel in downtown Beirut, across from Martyr’s Square. He declares that he is here today to commemorate the “biggest crime in the history of our country.”
“As the opposition MPs, we have signed an amendment to Article 751 that would give Bitar more freedom in his investigation. While the current version allows the Public Prosecutor to halt his investigation, our proposed amendment would instead have that decision be made by a committee instead of one person,” Daou tells L’Orient Today.
And did it pass? “No,” he responds. “Berri didn’t propose it in any legislative meeting.”
With Bitar’s investigation partially halted, Hajjar refusing to clear the charges against him, and opposition MPs not being able to bring about any change, one would think people are losing hope, but by the looks of the crowd on Sunday, the feeling was far from it.
“We will keep fighting for justice for our whole lives,” Fares says.
“And even after we die, our children will keep fighting until justice is served,” adds Paul Najjar, father of Alexandra Najjar, the three-year-old girl killed by the blast.
“We can’t lose hope,” Pezekhian continues, “Because if we choose to sit at home and give up, we will be shutting a door that will never be reopened.”