On the walls of a mini-market in the Ras El-Nabaa district of Beirut, old photos of the city. At the cash desk, Aymane juggles with the yo-yo of the dollar, after the Lebanese pound (LL) fell sharply against the greenback: because the majority of goods consumed are imported and therefore purchased in foreign currencies, the impact on price is staggering. “Every hour, I check the course”, says the manager (a dollar is worth around 14,000 LL today, compared to 1,500 in the summer of 2019). He readjusted the invoices due to suppliers and the selling prices. In the shelves, these are no longer indicated. “When we discover them, we widen our eyes”exclaims Abdelrazek, a teacher.
The country is bankrupt and hyperinflation dizzying. Aymane knows it: “The store risks being looted or broken”, as the prices gallop. The business hired security guards at night. During the day, it is useless: the employees outnumber the customers. “People are angry, anxious, unhappy”, he reports. Complaining and screaming are part of everyday life. In other supermarkets, shelves are no longer stocked. On the Internet, there are many scenes of disputes in shops or, on the contrary, those of the “triumph” of customers who have managed to seize a subsidized product – such as oil or flour – are numerous. These tensions are also fueled by panic.
The humiliation was preventable, however, with a recovery plan. Political parties, banks and central bank have derailed the one that the resigning government had drawn up in the spring of 2020. Since then, there is no longer a roadmap. Instead of a fair distribution of losses, society is paying the price for the violent readjustment underway. The end of subsidies, announced as imminent, should further sink the poorest households. A controversial loan has been taken out from the World Bank to support them.
“We have no benchmarks”
The current cataclysm reveals an increasingly two-speed country. “Those who have a contribution in foreign currency, by their salary or family abroad, take advantage of the situation. But we who have small salaries in Lebanese pounds, we are heading towards hunger ”, said Rim, pregnant with her first child. Coming to the supermarket to buy a man’ouché, the Levantine pizza, at break time, Lina, a 35-year-old civil servant, worries, more than anything, about the anxiety-provoking climate: “We have no benchmarks, we don’t understand what’s going on. I only spend what is necessary, I try to have a little savings, in the event of a big security blow. “
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