BEIRUT: From east to west, the Arab region is afflicted with mounting religious divides that are increasingly affecting the well-being of children. Lebanon's Constitution, which splits power between Muslims and Christians, is no exception to this growing chasm. Under the Constitution, 18 religions are formally recognized by the Lebanese government. No other country in the region boasts such recognition of diversity, but it is a mix that has ultimately become both Lebanon's greatest strength and its weakness.
"In such a varied society, the question of identity is always at the forefront of people's concerns," says Mahmoud Natout, professor of psychology at the Lebanese American University.
After the 1975-1990 Civil War, when Lebanon's main religious factions fiercely battled each other, Lebanon finally reached a peace agreement in 1989 - albeit one that was imposed by foreign powers. In the following 15 years, religious tensions substantially abated, only to reignite in 2005 after the assassination of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, leading to a political crisis that has been increasingly taking a religious dimension.
Ten-year-old Maher, who attends private school in Beirut, complains that his schoolmates constantly inquire about his religious beliefs.
"My mom is Christian and my father Muslim, and children are always trying to find out what sect I belong to," he says with frustration.
"Religion is extremely important to Lebanese, but there is a difference between the spiritual and social aspect," says Professor Nabil Dajani from the sociology department at the American University of Beirut. "In Lebanon, it has become a form of political thinking."
Dajani says children in Lebanon are mostly educated within the political facet of a religion.
"At school, Shiites will support Hassan Nasrallah [leader of Hizbullah, the Shiite resistance movement] while the Sunnis identify with Saad HaririSaad-Hariri-Profile Sep-07 [leader of the parliamentary majority and son of the slain former prime minister]," says Jana, a teenager at a private school on the outskirts of Beirut.
Faith itself is secondary; religion is defined by the children's environment, or the political affiliation of their parents.
Aida Suleiman, a public school teacher working in Aley, a predominately Druze area about 20 kilometers from Beirut, says that fights are erupting more frequently between children from different religious backgrounds.
"Tensions are on the rise between Druze and Shiite kids, who are a minority at our school," she says.
Dajani explains that although many Lebanese schools are secular, they are heavily segregated, with a veiled sectarian curriculum. The country itself is mostly divided along invisible lines that separate communities, with exceptions in many parts of Beirut, where neighborhoods tend to be more mixed than in other areas.
"In my children's classes, some of the kids have never met Sunnis in their life," says Dalia, a mother of two residing in the vicinity of Tyre.
Rana, who teaches at a private school in the suburbs of the capital, says that she has also observed an increase in altercations pitting children from different communities against each other.
"Girls are also starting to be veiled at a younger age - sometimes as young as seven - and the numbers have probably increased from around 5 percent of female students to 30 percent in recent years," she says.
Jana says that one of her Shiite schoolmates was even withdrawn from school by his parents for 10 days because the headmaster refused to allow him to break the school's dress code and by wearing black during Ashoura - the commemoration of the martyrdom of Hussein, the grandson of the Prophet Mohammad.
Therese Bechara, who works at a public school for girls in a predominantly Christian area, explains, however, that although conflicts rarely arise between her students, one of her daughters acknowledged that she had been mocked by other youths at a party because of her Christian beliefs.
According to Dajani, the Lebanese are becoming increasingly fanatic, practicing religion by strictly adhering to rituals and traditions. Unfortunately, the education system is also feeling the brunt of this religious fervor.
At one upscale private school in Beirut, for example, a prominent religious authority demanded a ban on a French history and geography textbook because it contained a century-old illustration of the Prophet Mohammad. Under pressure, the school agreed to have the illustration deleted.
"In such a varied society, the question of identity is always at the forefront of people's concerns," says Mahmoud Natout, professor of psychology at the Lebanese American University.
After the 1975-1990 Civil War, when Lebanon's main religious factions fiercely battled each other, Lebanon finally reached a peace agreement in 1989 - albeit one that was imposed by foreign powers. In the following 15 years, religious tensions substantially abated, only to reignite in 2005 after the assassination of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, leading to a political crisis that has been increasingly taking a religious dimension.
Ten-year-old Maher, who attends private school in Beirut, complains that his schoolmates constantly inquire about his religious beliefs.
"My mom is Christian and my father Muslim, and children are always trying to find out what sect I belong to," he says with frustration.
"Religion is extremely important to Lebanese, but there is a difference between the spiritual and social aspect," says Professor Nabil Dajani from the sociology department at the American University of Beirut. "In Lebanon, it has become a form of political thinking."
Dajani says children in Lebanon are mostly educated within the political facet of a religion.
"At school, Shiites will support Hassan Nasrallah [leader of Hizbullah, the Shiite resistance movement] while the Sunnis identify with Saad HaririSaad-Hariri-Profile Sep-07 [leader of the parliamentary majority and son of the slain former prime minister]," says Jana, a teenager at a private school on the outskirts of Beirut.
Faith itself is secondary; religion is defined by the children's environment, or the political affiliation of their parents.
Aida Suleiman, a public school teacher working in Aley, a predominately Druze area about 20 kilometers from Beirut, says that fights are erupting more frequently between children from different religious backgrounds.
"Tensions are on the rise between Druze and Shiite kids, who are a minority at our school," she says.
Dajani explains that although many Lebanese schools are secular, they are heavily segregated, with a veiled sectarian curriculum. The country itself is mostly divided along invisible lines that separate communities, with exceptions in many parts of Beirut, where neighborhoods tend to be more mixed than in other areas.
"In my children's classes, some of the kids have never met Sunnis in their life," says Dalia, a mother of two residing in the vicinity of Tyre.
Rana, who teaches at a private school in the suburbs of the capital, says that she has also observed an increase in altercations pitting children from different communities against each other.
"Girls are also starting to be veiled at a younger age - sometimes as young as seven - and the numbers have probably increased from around 5 percent of female students to 30 percent in recent years," she says.
Jana says that one of her Shiite schoolmates was even withdrawn from school by his parents for 10 days because the headmaster refused to allow him to break the school's dress code and by wearing black during Ashoura - the commemoration of the martyrdom of Hussein, the grandson of the Prophet Mohammad.
Therese Bechara, who works at a public school for girls in a predominantly Christian area, explains, however, that although conflicts rarely arise between her students, one of her daughters acknowledged that she had been mocked by other youths at a party because of her Christian beliefs.
According to Dajani, the Lebanese are becoming increasingly fanatic, practicing religion by strictly adhering to rituals and traditions. Unfortunately, the education system is also feeling the brunt of this religious fervor.
At one upscale private school in Beirut, for example, a prominent religious authority demanded a ban on a French history and geography textbook because it contained a century-old illustration of the Prophet Mohammad. Under pressure, the school agreed to have the illustration deleted.
