BEIRUT,  (Xinhua) — Lebanese central bank’s foreign exchange reserves increased by 1.4 billion U.S. dollars during the second half of August to …

 (UPI) — The U.S. Treasury Department sanctioned a Lebanese bank for connections to Hezbollah on Thursday. The agency announced the sanctions against …

by esquireme.com -Chris Cotonou- It might be nothing, or it might just be the perfect metaphor. On a usually busy corner of Armenia Street in Beirut, a mural depicting the iconic Lebanese singer Fairuz is now semi-hidden, obscured by plant pots, chairs and scribbled graffiti. I point it out from a busy bar across the street and Salma, a 22-year-old Beirut student, half-smiles and muses “I hadn’t noticed it before, but I’m not surprised.” The short pause in our conversation is replaced with a pulsating American club track bluring out of the bar’s speakers. “Not a lot of people my age would admit they listen to Fairuz these days. She is our parent’s generation,” says Salma. The street art is the work of Yazan Halwani who—along with other artists such as Sabah and Khalil Gibran—sought to fill Beirut with murals of Lebanese cultural icons they believed would inspire and unite the next generation. As the Arab-world’s best-selling singers Fairuz is undoubtedly one of those icons. In Lebanon and abroad she remains a representative of the country’s identity. As Halwani once put it “she’s a symbol of Lebanese identity not soured by sectarianism”. “Not a lot of people my age would admit they listen to Fairuz these days. She is our parent’s generation”

As a transcendent star stitched into the tapestry of Arabic pop-culture, her popularity has spawned a rather unique tradition where many Lebanese families, taxi drivers, and workers start their days with her music. On Spotify and YouTube you can find popular playlists titled ‘Fairuz Morning Songs’ created specifically for this ritual. Although, today with the maturing of a new generation, people like Salma believe that perhaps it has now had its time. “That is something our parents do,” she says, “but that won’t be happening in 10 years, at least not in Beirut.” While a shift in tastes is not particularly dramatic—new generations have always sought music styles that will define and differentiate them from their elders—it is Fairuz’s longevity that is impressive. “These days people have no respect for the classics. Kids today would rather listen to trash! They forget what we fought for to get here.” With a career spanning 50 years, and more than 150 million records sold, Fairuz has been three types of icon to three generations: the first during the glamour and optimism of the Golden Age; then to that generation’s children, who either heard her from abroad, or amidst the sounds of sobbing and ammunition; and finally following the war when her image became a de facto matriarch of a new Lebanon looking for reinvention. For three generations, she has remained relevant.

by naharnet.com —Lebanon’s Higher Defense Council on Tuesday stressed “the right of the Lebanese to defend themselves with all means against any …