Lebanon is being sucked into Syrian war. Graham Usher reports from Tripoli, the country's most lethal frontline Machine-gun fire crackles from the Alawite militiaman hidden in a warren of apartments piled up on his mountain home. Below -- on a roundabout empty of traffic -- a woman gathers her children between her skirts and runs behind a van. An old man -- in no hurry -- limps out of one shop front and into the next. A Sunni fighter, in black fatigues and clutching an AK-47, spins on the balls of his feet, trying to make out the sniper, his face wet with fear. Another spray of gunfire and he scampers under a truck. An armoured personnel carrier throbs idly. It could be Damascus, Aleppo or just about anywhere in Syria -- or at least just about anywhere in Syria until a few months ago. But it's Tripoli, Lebanon's second city, 80 kilometres up the coast from Beirut. And it's the hole through which many Lebanese fear the war in Syria will enter Lebanon. Tripoli is ripe for penetration. Of all Lebanon's cities, it most resembles Syria. Half a million people are split between a Sunni Muslim majority and an Alawite minority, like Syria. And like Syria these communities are pretty rigid in their political allegiances. The Alawites mainly support the regime of Bashar Al-Assad and its ruthless crackdown on all and any opposition. The Sunnis mainly back the Free Syrian Army and the armed Syrian resistance, including the Islamists, and want Al-Assad dead. Allegiance is not yet expressed in the language of religion or sect but rather of homeland and community. "I'm just defending my own neighbourhood," says Abu Mahmoud. "No one should come and threaten us. We are not going to wait for anyone to protect us. We have to protect ourselves." Abu Mahmoud is a fighter from Tripoli's Bab Al-Tabanna, an impoverished Sunni district. It lies in the shadow of Jebel Mohsin, its equally poor Alawite neighbour. In what seems like a uniform Abu Mahmoud is dressed all in black with a headband that reads "We are your soldiers Mohamed". He carries a walkie-talkie. For the last week he and his fellow Sunni fighters have been engaged in a ferocious street war with the Alawites. By Saturday at least 17 had been killed and 120 wounded, including 11 soldiers. The weaponry used included mortars, rocket propelled grenades, even anti-tank missiles. But the most lethal were the telescopic rifles in the hands of snipers: dozens, including many civilians were hit in the crossfire. Tentative ceasefires have been reached, more from fighter exhaustion than any desire for peace. Few lasted longer than hours. On Friday hostilities erupted between the Bab Al-Tabanna and Jebel Mohsin districts, leaving three dead, including an alleged Islamist commander. Seven Alawite shops were torched by masked gunmen. Locals said the arsonists were members of Islamic Salafi groups. Between the wars, the people of Tripoli emerge, blinking, into the daylight from their bunkers, basements and makeshift lairs. Militiamen have their wounds dressed. Women buy groceries, and families make precarious returns to battle ravaged homes. Locals gather for talk and respite on Syria Street. In peace this is the road that runs through the Alawite and Sunni neighborhoods. In war it's their frontline, a fact attested to by side-streets eaten away by bullets and the crunch of shattered masonry. Tripoli has been hit by sectarian guerrilla war at least three times this year -- in January, May and June. How does August compare? "The sniper fire was heavier," says Mohamed, a native of Tripoli, who works with a media company. "The fighting covered a wider area. This time nearly the whole of Tripoli was affected. People stayed home out of fear. And some fled the city. In the past, the fighting was confined to Jebel Mohsin and Bab Al-Tabanna. The rest of Tripoli got on with their lives. This time you couldn't." It was clear what started the fighting. On the last day of the Muslim holiday of Eid Al-Fitr youths from Bab Al-Tabanna fired fireworks into Jebel Mohsin. They also hurled invective at Bashar Al-Assad's younger brother, Maher. He is rumoured either to have been killed or badly mutilated in the bomb blast that killed three top Syrian security officials in Damascus last month. In reply, a round of live ammunition was sprayed into Bab Al-Tabanna fired from Jebel Mohsin. But what kept the fires burning was the news out of Syria: especially the ferocious government blitzes on rebel bases in Damascus and Aleppo. Yet it wasn't just the constant stream of grisly videos from Syria that kept tempers high in Tripoli. Sunni fighters like Abu Munif insist Damascus had a hand in the turmoil. "There is a direct order from Syria to open up the battle in Tripoli," he says. "But we don't care about the Alawites here. We have a bigger cause, and that is winning in Damascus and Aleppo. We want to cut off the head of the snake [Bashar Al-Assad]". The alleged recipient of the "direct order" is Rifaat Eid. He is the head of the Arab Democratic Party, the main Alawite party in Lebanon. He is also unofficially commander of the largest Alawite militia, the main cause of the sectarian violence in Tripoli, charge his Sunni foes. "He gets his instructions directly from Al-Assad," says one. Alawites think this fantasy. The real reason for Sunni hostility to Eid is that he has tried to block Tripoli from becoming a smuggling route for men and arms to the opposition in Syria, they say. Damascus is only a two and a half hour drive away. Like Sunni claims against Eid there is much exaggeration here but some truth. Sunni militiamen boast that 300 fighters from Bab Al-Tabanna have fought in Homs since the Syrian uprising began in March 2011 and seven have been killed there. Whatever the facts, Lebanon's sectarian militias are becoming sucked into the Syria war, with potentially mortal consequences for Beirut. The latest ceasefire negotiations on Tripoli involved not only local politicians and notables but the Shia Hizbullah movement, Sunni Muslim parties and Lebanon's prime minister, Najib Miqati. He advocates a policy of Lebanese "dissociation" or neutrality to the war in Syria. On Sunday he authorised the Lebanese army to arrest gunmen involved in the clashes and seize arms as part of a plan to restore order to the city. It's easy to understand this collective concern. Every Lebanese party knows the Alawite-Sunni fracture is peculiar to Tripoli. But they also know that the violence here could easily tap into the core divide in Lebanon over Syria: between the Shia, led by Hizbullah, which broadly backs the Al-Assad regime and the Sunnis, led by their political parties, which broadly do not. And all Lebanese parties appear determined not to let Tripoli's militia war over Al-Assad escalate into a full blown civil war in and over Lebanon. "In Tripoli we still count every casualty," says Mohamed, summing up starkly what's at stake. "In Homs, Damascus and Aleppo, they don't."
