Beirut's Bastille

The free-for-all inside Lebanon's most notorious prison.

BY SULOME ANDERSON | MAY 2, 2013

"It's not true that these Islamist prisoners have it better than the others," he says. "On the contrary, they're searched far more than the other prisoners.… The reason people think that they enjoy more privileges is because there are around 200 of these Islamist prisoners in Roumieh and they are united under one leadership, so when they have demands, they send a very strong message."

Asked to explain reports that the Islamists often refuse to allow prison guards access to Block B, the sheikh smiles patiently.

"That was a misunderstanding between the Islamists inside Roumieh prison and the security forces," he says. "The security forces sent a new team to the prison, and the Islamists assumed that this team was there to give them a hard time or to try and divide them. At the same time, these police told their superiors that they didn't want to enter Block B because the Islamists could be dangerous terrorists."

Hassan, another sheikh who leads a Salafi militia in Tripoli, has been an inmate in Roumieh on more than one occasion. His last stint was a year and a half long, and he served out his sentence in Block B. He sips a cup of tea at his apartment in the Tripoli neighborhood of Bab al-Tabbaneh, a predominantly Sunni area that often serves as a flash point for bloody clashes with an adjacent Alawite neighborhood.

Hassan was released from Roumieh in 2008 and paints a picture of an existence that may be, in many ways, more comfortable than life in this impoverished, violent northern city.

"When I was in Block B, they had just started to give us things … so we'd get microwaves, TVs, MP3 players, fridges, things like that," he says. "I heard that the first washing machine to enter Roumieh prison was brought in for our guys in 2004. The first fridge came later."

According to Hassan, many inmates in Block B are foreign militants, some arrested in transit across the Middle East.

"There are a lot of prisoners from the Gulf, and consulates from their embassies come and make sure they have everything they need," he says. "One of the guys I was friends with was Algerian. He said he was arrested while traveling from Syria to fight against the Israelis in Gaza."

However, Hassan is indignant at the suggestion that the Islamists in Block B are responsible for all the security incidents inside Roumieh.

"I was in prison in 2003, before the Islamists became so powerful, and there were always problems," he says. "Beatings, murders, things like that. The only difference is that we're united in a way that the other prisoners aren't."

While the Islamists seem to enjoy the relative comforts of their little fiefdom, less politically connected inmates are left to fend for themselves. Yousef has been an inmate at Roumieh for 22 years, serving two back-to-back life sentences for murder. Lanky and quiet, he speaks perfect English and sits with his hands folded in his lap.

"I was 16 when I committed my crime," he says bitterly. "I was originally supposed to be hanged; then they commuted my sentence to life in prison. I know I made a mistake, and I have to accept responsibility for what I did. But some of the people here have done much worse things, and they only spend a year or two in jail. I feel like I don't belong here."

Asked what he thinks is the primary problem with Roumieh prison, Yousef's lips twist in a cynical smile.

"Inside and out, it's the same," he says. "It's all about politics. That's the main virus of this country."

RAMZI HAIDAR/AFP/Getty Images

 

Sulome Anderson is a freelance journalist based between Beirut and New York City. Follow her on Twitter: @SulomeAnderson.