17 April 2007

BEIRUT: As anyone who has traveled in a car through the diesel-fumed streets of the capital can surely attest, in Lebanon there are no rules of the road, at least none that are observed.

Beirutis regard traffic lights as mere suggestions and cars routinely speed through red lights and careen in the wrong direction down one-way streets. Vehicles parked three deep clog narrow neighborhood thoroughfares, forcing pedestrians to navigate a virtual obstacle course around oversized SUVs and decrepit service taxis. 

But life may get a bit easier for everyone next month when the second phase of the Council for Development Reconstruction's (CDR) on-street parking meter installation program continues, moving on from the isolated avenues of Beirut Central District to crowded commercial strips like Bliss Street and Charles Malek Avenue.

About 50 "pay and display" meters went up in Bab Idriss and Rue Foch this month, and a further 750 machines, serving 7,500 spaces, will go up in business districts - including, eventually, the area currently hosting the opposition's tent city - over the next two-and-a-half-years. Funded by an $8 million World Bank loan, the program is expected to generate up to $5 million in revenues for the Beirut municipality if successful, and will hopefully regulate some of the more populated and anarchic routes in the city. But will drivers who so freely flout traffic laws actually pay the LL500 per half hour it will soon cost to park on Beirut's busiest streets for up to two hours?

Will business owners cooperate with new parking rules at the risk of alienating customers? And how will Near East Automatic Distributors (NEAD) - the private company contracted by CDR to manage, operate, and enforce the on-street pilot program - succeed where government authorities have failed?  

NEAD manager Chafic Sinno plans to give them no choice.

"The government is not in charge of enforcing paid parking rules," Sinno said of why people will obey. "I will be the one sending my staff to issue surcharges if people don't pay, I will be the one booting and towing cars if they don't pay."

NEAD has already hired 40 field officers to monitor neighborhoods and enforce violations, and the team will gradually increase to 150 as the program expands. Customers will feed money into the pay and display machine - each will serve between 10 and 20 customers - which will feed them a coupon to display in the windshield.

Vehicles that remain in spaces past the allotted time will receive up to three citations requiring the driver to pay progressively larger fines of LL10,000, LL20,000, then LL30,000.

If three so-called "surcharges" (under Lebanese law NEAD cannot use the word ticket, according to Sinno) are accumulated within 15 days, a uniformed NEAD guard will "boot" the car. Each is expected to issue about 70 citations a day.

Though a violator could presumably rip up the "surcharge" notice and drive home on day 14 before NEAD clamps steal blocks around the car tires, the computerized meter connects wirelessly to a main office which records outstanding payments.

In contrast to the outdated pole meters lining the streets of Tripoli, the  machines in Beirut are tamper-proof, and send a signal to NEAD if someone tries to break or steal money from the machine.  The new system will "civilize" the streets of Beirut, said Sinno, which is why the World Bank encouraged the CDR to take on the project.

"Today people place sticks, large objects, or signs to reserve parking places, which is not civilized at all. Finally the parking in Beirut will be regulated now," he predicted. 

The CDR "anticipates that most users will abide by the regulations of the on-street parking meters as it is the case in Tripoli," project manager Elie Helou wrote in a faxed response to The Daily Star's inquiry.  

But those with first-hand knowledge of Beirut's chaotic streets are skeptical about residents' willingness to comply with the new system.

A valet attendant at Paul in Gemmayzeh dismissed the prospect with a laugh.

"Of course they won't do it," he said, cocking his head "no" with a definitive tongue click.

"Even if they boot their car people won't pay. Trust me they would break them first."

Nearby, the traffic policeman at the nearby Saifi intersection agreed that Lebanese drivers are as unlikely to comply with parking fees as they are with traffic lights. "There are a lot of troubles here and nobody has any money, plus Lebanese people don't like to pay for anything," he said on condition of anonymity.

He issues about 10 citations a day for parking violations, but the thousands of drivers who ignore both street lights and his directions go unpunished. Though the officer has the authority to stop cars for failing to observe traffic signals, he rarely does so.  

"What am I supposed to do, run after a car that speeds through a red light? Sometimes they listen to me, and sometimes they keep going. It depends if they are busy or late for work," he shrugged, before jumping in the middle of the intersection to demonstrate. Though no vehicles came to a complete stop, the growl of motors dimmed to a purr of token compliance for a split second - much to the young officer's delight - before charging ahead aggressively.

"It's the afternoon, so they obey me but sometimes they almost run me over."