ILLEGAL DRUG CROPS STILL STRONG IN BEKAA VALLEY

Money Woes Wither Substitution Program

Baalbek, Lebanon

One recent afternoon in the Bekaa Valley, Ali Shreif plucked a small
branch from an oak tree and illustrated the technique that made him a
rich man during the height of Lebanon's civil war.

"You dry the leaf in the sun," he explained, pressing on his impromptu
model. "Then, when the cold comes, you scrape off the residue and make
it into powder."

The end result of that simple process-when applied to the cannabis
plants Shreif grew - is hashish that can be sold on the street for
$1,500 a kilo. With 25 acres of fertile land in his family's
possession, Shreif says he produced as much as 500 kilos of the drug
each year during the 1975-91 war.

When peace returned, however, the boom went bust.

Lebanon's government, resurrected from the ashes, came under enormous
pressure from the United States and the United Nations to end the
illicit trade that had flourished in the Bekaa Valley for nearly two
decades and had supplied much of the world with high-quality
marijuana, heroin and hashish.

The government needs to stamp out the drug business to show would-be
international donors that it is firmly in control and able to take
responsibility for reconstruction. Otherwise, Lebanon's anarchic image
will linger.

Armed with U.S. and U.N. pledges of cash to help farmers learn to grow
tobacco leaves and vegetables instead, the government dispatched the
army to uproot and burn thousands of acres of cannabis and opium crops.

Whenever a stubborn farmer tried to replant, soldiers would arrive
with bulldozers to dig up the freshly laid seeds or, if the plants had
matured, gather them in a pyre and send them up in smoke.

Seven years later, most of the foreign promises to continue support of
the crop-substitution program have not been kept. Aid workers say that
the low prices the farmers are obtaining for their new crops are
leaving thousands indigent - and tempting many to return to drug
cultivation.

In 1994, donor countries gave $5.5 million to finance the first phase
of a scheme run by the United Nations Development Program to provide
loans to farmers for agricultural equipment, fertilizer and seed.

But last year, at a "Friends of Lebanon" conference in Washington,
D.C., convened to raise money for the UNDP program's second phase, not
one donor country stepped forward. Lebanon's cash-strapped government
and two UN agencies were able to scrape together only $7 million - far
short of the $53 million organizers say they need to keep the project
afloat.

The money would have financed an integrated program to raise the
standard of living for farmers in the Bekaa. It ineluded health care,
job creation, agricultural improvement, education and infrastructure
projects.

"We have tried so hard to get a response f rom the international
community," said Zeinah Ali Ahmed, the UNDP's program officer. "We
don't have any serious commitments."

"It's really short-sighted," Ahmed added. "The Lebanese government
will stop replanting of illicit drugs, but, without money, for how
long?"

Farmers in Baalbek say the lack of support funds has forced many of
them to flee to the mountains, where they can grow drug crops out of
sight of the authorities. Others pool their resources to sow cannabis
and opium seeds in abandoned fields closer to town and then return at
night to harvest the precious leaves.

Several times since the government began its crackdown, mobs of angry
farmers have attacked the police who come to enforce the law,
punching policemen, burning police cars and calling on the government
to legalize the drug crops. Some have formed ragtag militias to defend
their mountain contraband from police raids.

"Our government is putting us out of business," complained Shreif, who
says he gave up trying to replant his burned-out cannabis crop three
years ago after enduring multiple government raids. He has switched to
tobacco.

"For me, the solution is to go back to growing hashish," he said "If
the government would leave us alone, we'd be very happy."

The problem reached its apex in March,when a Lebanese television
station Mur TV, interviewed an armed farmer hiding out on the
Bekaa's hiding out on Mt. Hermel.

Lebanon's conservative society, Muslim and Christian alike, has zero
tolerance for drug use and the footage sparked public outrage. The
government canceled the show's sequels, and the Police began hunting for
the farmer.

"After the program aired, the situation really was tense," said
Lebanese journalist involved in Mur TV interview who requested
anonymity. "The farmers started to think neither the government nor the
aid agencies would help them anymore."

"So they decided to grow hashhish again. We have a lot now," he added,
estimating that some 100 farmers are involved in clandestine mountain
production.

The United States Agency for International Development has tried to
alleviate the farmers' plight by providing some assistance to rural
areas.

In 1997, Congress allocated $60 million over five years to USAID's
Lebanon branch - ostensibly to improve the environment, provide small
business loans to women and promote democracy. Seven million of the
$12 million annual allocation is earmarked for or rural development
programs - building roads, irrigating farms and providing clean
drinking water.

But a lack of direct oversight means it is possible that some of the
aid may inadvertently be going to farmers who plant drugs on the side.

"We're not working as police," admitted program officer Ghassan
Jamous. "We're trying to help the farmers to refrain from growing
(drugs) by showing them that growing something else would be more
beneficial for them."

In the Bekaa's dirt-poor villages, however, pushing for cucumbers over
cannabis is a hard sell. When he was making hashish, Shreif bought a
new car each year. Today, he peddles potatoes for or $1.50 a kilo and
owes the bank $10,000.

Accordingly, he is nostalgic for a time that most Lebanese would like
to forget.

"I miss the war," Shreif smiled, his dark eyes crinkling into a face
weathered by years under the sun. "God willing, it will return. Our
life was easier then."

Checked-by: Patrick Henry