How Lebanon deals with war trauma: ‘When the bombs stop, the party begins’

Beirut’s club scene is still thriving despite the increased violence between Israel and Hezbollah (Picture: Clique Beirut)

Beneath the bouncing lights of Beirut’s nightclubs, there is no sign that the Shia Islamist political party Hezbollah is preparing for all-out war with Israel.

Ever since the bloody civil war that left 150,000 dead between 1975 and 1990, Lebanon has been synonymous with defiance, an attitude that sees people party ’til dawn and sunbathe unfazed as plumes of smoke billow in the distance.

The capital’s club scene is still the most vibrant in the Middle East, despite fears that the country is about to be dragged into open conflict with Israel.

Saturday’s deadly attack on a football field in the Golan Heights, an Israeli-controlled territory near neighbouring Lebanon, has only heightened this anxiety.

Explosions have become the soundtrack of Lebanon’s summer in the south (Picture: Clique)

But six hours’ drive north in Beirut, there is little to suggest that war is on the horizon.

Once hailed the Paris of the Middle East, Lebanon’s capital is where the rich kids of Europe and the Gulf go to blow off steam against a backdrop of remixed Arab and Western beats – and rocketing inflation that averaged an alarming 222% in 2023.

Some DJs have cancelled sets, a telltale sign of the city’s fragility amid government warnings to avoid all but essential travel. Techno producer Massano pulled out of a scheduled performance in May, citing UK Foreign Office advice.

But besides the absence of a handful of international acts, bars and clubs operate as normal, blasting house music until the early hours.

Gabriel El Murr, owner of the exclusive nightlife spot Clique, spoke to Metro.co.uk about the stereotype that Lebanese ‘party even under missiles’ at an upscale seafood restaurant in the heart of downtown Beirut.

This was two weeks after a viral video captured a barrage of Iranian rockets flying above the heads of revellers partying at the AHM club on the waterfront, on their way to Israeli territory.

‘Clubs are the only places where sectarian issues do not matter. We are like brothers and sisters there,’ Gabriel says of the importance of Lebanon’s party culture.

‘Rival politicians and their children act like the best of friends when they go out.

‘We [club owners] consider ourselves to be the unofficial ministry of tourism. [Successive] conflicts have not deterred some people from coming to Lebanon, so the clubs are still full. The only obstacle is a few international DJs cancelling their sets.’

Explosions and the booms of fighter jets are the soundtrack of Lebanon’s summer, but those unaffected by military escalations – who continue partying – are being accused of tone-deafness.

One of Beirut’s building bearing the scars of multiple conflicts over the years (Picture: Gergana Krasteva)

Missile exchanges between Hezbollah and Israeli forces have displaced more than 100,000 people from Lebanon’s south since Hamas’ October 7 attacks on Israel.

‘Our way of coping with the stress of living in a country as unstable as Lebanon is to live life to the fullest,’ Gabriel explains.

His comments come in response to criticism by Mohammad Raad, the Hezbollah parliamentary group leader, who has lashed out at ‘some selfish Lebanese who only want to go to the clubs and live their lives’.

Beirut still possesses some of the allure it was famed for from the 1950s until the early 70s, when it earned the name ‘The Paris of the Middle East’ thanks to its French colonial influence and vibrant culture.

Nothing seems permanent here. It feels as though the city is eating itself from the inside – a concrete jungle with no pavements. But there is no obvious sign of conflict; just past ones.

The building of the ‘Egg’ monument – once destined to be Beirut City Center – was interrupted by the civil war (Picture: Gergana Krasteva)

To understand the roots of Beirut’s nightlife DNA, Metro.co.uk sits down with Nicole Moudaber, the woman who threw the first party, not just in the Lebanese capital, but in the whole of the Middle East. 

The 47-year-old swears a lot and calls you ‘babe’ in a unique, husky voice.

Born in Nigeria to Lebanese parents, the DJ and promoter spent her childhood in Lagos before moving to Beirut at the age of 15, during the Syrian occupation.

The capital used to be this ‘tiny dot on the Mediterranean’, but now it’s ‘popping’, she says.

Nicole remembers the bombs falling on Beirut, but says she ‘just got used to it’. It was part of a coping mechanism the Lebanese are familiar with.

Beit Beirut portrays the history of Beirut, with a particular focus on the Lebanese civil war (Picture: Gergana Krasteva)

‘When there is war going on, people become resilient and carry on with their lives,’ she says.

‘And when the bombs stop, the party begins. It is business as usual. We lived like this for 30 years.

‘If rockets are flying over me, I go out on the balcony and look at them. We have become so jaded about these things.’

A friend of Nicole’s, also a Lebanese promoter, sent her the now-famous video of the party at AHM where people videoed Iranian rockets piercing the clouds above them.

‘That shows who the Lebanese are,’ she says.

Smoke rises after Israeli airstrikes hit targets in the town of Khiam, southern Lebanon on April 8, 2024 (Picture: Getty)

‘We are thick-skinned. We just want it to be over. The cliché is accurate. The 2020 explosion was the cherry on the cake, if you want. It wiped out our economy. The worst has happened already.’ 

August 7 will mark the 4th anniversary since 2,700 tons of ammonium nitrate that were stored at the Port of Beirut blew up, obliterating parts of the capital.

A total of 218 people were confirmed dead, and more than 7,000 were injured.

The blast was felt across Lebanon and Syria, and is still considered ‘the worst’ that has happened to the Middle Eastern nation since its 15-year civil war.

Mar Mikhael and Gemmayzeh – neighbourhoods congested with restaurants and bars – were largely destroyed.

Nicole Moudaber is heading back to Beirut in August for a DJ set

One of Beirut’s most respected institutions, The Grand Factory, a nightlife venue inspired by the clubs of Berlin, was left picking up the pieces.

The old site of its summer club was wiped out, while the winter venue suffered extensive damage.

With the help of the hospitality community and Beirutis’ trademark resilience, the team behind Grand Factory rebuilt. It has since been ranked 70th in DJ Mag’s top 100 clubs in the world.

Alongside many other clubs, it is regarded in Lebanon as a lifeline, an escape for generations that have gone numb from decades of war and years of economic crisis.

In the past 10 months, multiple airlines have cancelled their routes to Beirut-Rafic Al Hariri International Airport.

Nicole threw the first party in Beirut and has since been DJing all over the world

Turkey’s low-cost carrier Pegasus is one of the only airlines still flying to Lebanon’s capital.

The UK Foreign Office continues to advise against all travel to Lebanon. It urges all citizens currently there to leave while commercial flights remain available.

On Sunday, after the strike in the Golan Heights for which Hezbollah has denied responsibility, the UK reiterated the same advice.

As the already febrile conflict reaches fever pitch, other Western governments have also issued warnings.

Thea, a British citizen, and Ahmed, a French-Tunisian, who are based in Paris are not disturbed by Lebanon’s ‘unpredictability’.

The aftermath of an Israeli airstrike in the southern Lebanese border village of Chihine on July 28, 2024 (Picture: AFP)

Metro.co.uk spoke with the pair in May while they were in Beirut for a two-week holiday, enjoying the nightlife.

Ahmed, who had been to Lebanon before, after the 2020 port explosion, shares his philosophy: ‘It is the Middle East. If you wait for all conflict to end, you will never visit.’

Get in touch with our news team by emailing us at webnews@metro.co.uk.

For more stories like this, check our news page.