Thanassis Cambanis in Beirut
Minds
are just as important as missiles to Hizbollah, the Lebanese militant group.
It has invested heavily in both since its founding in 1982.
At
a recent celebration of Hizbollah’s private educational system – the Mahdi
schools – Mohammad Raad, a senior party official, announced that the group had
acquired missiles that could reach Eilat,
the city at the southernmost point of Israel.
The
fact that he chose to make the announcement at an education function was a
fitting gesture to the Mahdi schools, established two decades ago by the
Islamic Institution for Education, Hizbollah’s pedagogical branch.
Mahdi
schools are expected to turn out competitive, well-trained students who are
also loyal to Hizbollah’s resistance ideology and can staff the organisation’s
many institutions.
“Our
strategy is to take care of the human cadre,” Mustafa al-Qasir, the head of
the system, said at the event.
Hizbollah
has become the single most powerful political organisation in Lebanon, in part because of
its extensive network of schools, hospitals and other social services as well
as its powerful militia.
Mahdi
schools are a cornerstone of Hizbollah’s “Society of Resistance”. They feature
a standard modern technology-heavy curriculum, and students consistently score
top marks on the brevet – the national high school
exam.
They
dispense a dose of Hizbollah doctrine, with religion and history classes from
the party’s perspective. In every school hang portraits of Ayatollah Ruhollah
Khomeini, the founder of the Islamic Republic of Iran, and Hassan Nasrallah,
the Hizbollah leader.
The
schools are named after the Imam Mahdi – or the occulted imam – whose return,
according to some Shia Muslims, will signal the end of history.
The
first schools opened in 1993 in impoverished towns in southern Lebanon, only
miles from the front line of the war between Hizbollah and the Israeli
military.
There
are now 14 Mahdi schools in Hizbollah strongholds, including the Bekaa valley
in the south of Lebanon and Dahieh, the southern suburb of Beirut that is
effectively Hizbollah’s capital. There is also a branch in the Iranian holy
city of Qom to serve Lebanese students studying in the seminaries there.
The
Al Mahdi Shahid – or Martyr – school on Beirut’s airport road has a swimming
pool and computer lab, resources intended to make the school attractive
against more established and wealthier private institutions.
The
newer schools advertise their sports programmes, extracurricular activities
and even their underground car parks. Tuition and fees run close to $1,000 a
year, but Hizbollah provides scholarships to supporters and needy families.
Tuition receipts do not cover operating costs, according to school officials.
The schools rely on fundraising from private donors as well as subsidies from
Hizbollah and the Iranian government.
State
services were ravaged during the Lebanese civil war of 1975-1991, and today
many people avoid the state education system. According to a UN report, 70 per
cent of Lebanese students attend private schools.
That
proportion is higher for primary students. The state school system is
considered to be of such low quality that families often gamble on for-profit
private schools, especially in underserved rural areas.
In
Beirut, where high-quality schools compete for pupils, families tend to choose
the best school they can afford rather than one that reflects their sect, says
Maha Shuayb, a fellow at St Antony’s College, Oxford, and director of the
Centre for Lebanese Studies in Beirut.
In
rural areas, villages and schools are more homogenous. The Mahdi schools are
unique in their affiliation with a single political movement.
“Their
mission statement talks about ‘education and indoctrination’. It’s a bit
worrying,” Ms Shuayb says, pointing out that, in Arabic, “indoctrination” is
the same word as “to fill up a bottle”.
There
is no state monitoring of private schools, and no uniform curriculum
requirements. Some private schools have sterling reputations for teaching
critical thinking, others are considered low-quality cash cows.
Mahdi
graduates tend to hold their own against other students when they enter
Lebanese universities, but Ms Shuayb says it is hard to judge how well the
schools teach foreign languages and critical thinking, because Mahdi schools
are, notoriously, closed to outsiders and allow no external assessment.
Other
sect-based schools, such as Shia Mabarrat and Mustafa schools, take part in
national standards-building exercises and regularly invite independent
researchers such as Ms Shuayb to assess their teaching methods.
In
contrast, the Mahdi schools consistently deny requests for access from
researchers and journalists, and their teachers and administrators are rarely
seen at Lebanese educational conferences, Ms Shuayb says.
One
Mahdi teacher explains, almost apologetically, why it is unlikely a western
reporter would be allowed to visit. “These schools are for Hizbollah,” the
teacher says, with a
shrug.
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