Editor’s note: This is the second of a three part series on Tripoli’s social and economic problems. The third and final part will be published Tuesday.

TRIPOLI, Lebanon: With hundreds of old monuments, a historic port and railroad, a large fairground and a resilient people, Tripoli should be a bustling center of trade and tourism.

Instead, the pride of the city, the St. Gilles castle, is now occupied by soldiers keeping watch over the neighborhoods of Bab Tabbaneh and Jabal Mohsen which were the scene of deadly clashes last month between the city’s two sects of Alawites and Sunnis.

Lebanon’s second largest city, which always seems to be on the verge of turning a corner, has been routinely hit by setbacks over the past several years, including lack of funding for post-war reconstruction (state compensation to the displaced of the Tripoli district was 50 percent less than that given to other areas), the 2007 war at Nahr al-Bared camp 16 km away, and now unrest in nearby Syria, contributing to sectarian tensions between the most impoverished communities.

“For years, Tripoli has been seen as a place of fanatics and extremists. But we’re good people,” says Sultan al-Halabi Harba, manager of the Quality Inn in Tripoli, the city’s only high-end hotel, which is currently at 35 percent occupancy, well below the 80 percent that he would expect for July.

At the same time, the Chamber of Commerce hasn’t had a president in two years, following the murder of chief Abdullah Ghandour in August 2009.

And the city’s sprawling international fairgrounds, about 10,000 meters of which are not in use, have not had a chairman in six years.

Over the past five years, at least a dozen factories have closed, including one of the biggest manufacturers of pipes in the region, due to the high costs of fuel and electricity.

Between 1996 and 2004, factory jobs dropped from 3,000 workers to 300 in the Tripoli area. Today, the city’s poverty rate stands at 35 percent, mainly concentrated in the Bab Tabbaneh and Jabal Mohsen neighborhoods, and well above the national average of around 28 percent.

With the recurring bad news comes a loss of confidence in the area, from both residents and non-residents, further adding to the city’s woes.

In fact, Harba, who returned to Lebanon from his studies in California in 1981, says that for the past several years the hotel hasn’t been breaking even, but he keeps it open with the hope that the situation in Tripoli will improve. If that day comes, he says he plans on completely renovating the hotel and also opening a boutique hotel near the clock tower in the city center.

“Tourism is the simplest thing that can be done in Tripoli. We should be on the map because there are so many things to see here. But the Ministry of Tourism hasn’t included the city in any of their advertisements,” says Taha Naji, who started the Facebook group “We Love Tripoli” four years ago, with the aim of engaging locals, as well as those outside the city, in civic activities, such as volunteerism.

The group regularly hosts weekend photo-shooting excursions, where members meet to take pictures of the city’s hidden treasures and then post them online, which have encouraged more people to join.

Still, he acknowledges that three of the group’s administrators live abroad because of work, while Naji, who works in IT, splits his time between Tripoli and the UAE, because of a lack of opportunity in his hometown.

Meanwhile, Harba says he’s working to diversify his investments through Tajer, a construction, hospitality and transportation company – all sectors that have been suffering under the current unrest – where he is CEO.

“Business is tough. So many times I feel bad that I invested so much here,” he says.

Still, he insists that he won’t give up, because Tripoli is his home, and he believes it has the potential to change.

Oussama Ziade, who returned to Lebanon in 2006, having spent more than 20 years in the United States working in software and business architecture, is now running a business in the same sectors out of his office in Tripoli, where he has 20 employees.

Back in his hometown, Ziade struggles to find good employees who are willing to stay in the area.

“Unfortunately, talented people aren’t motivated to stay here. They’re trained to think they need to leave – either go to Dubai or even Beirut,” he says. “They think: I’ve got to get out to be successful. That’s what their friends do.”

Ziade adds, “Every day, as soon as they step out of the office, they face pressure from friends and family. And the first time that happens, they crack.”

He also has to contend with an environment where success stories are few, and many people have become conditioned to disappointment.

He recalls, “When I started, people bet that I wouldn’t be successful. Instead of encouraging me, it’s like people were betting on me giving up … If society’s not supporting the push, then what’s going to happen? People are going to leave.”

While Ziade acknowledges that his business, where he has so far invested $5 million, is a struggle, he says he’s never considered giving up.

But Ziade and Harba are exceptions, and it will likely take more than an attachment to their city to keep Tripoli residents at home.

And it will take more than the private sector to turn things around, say residents, who think the government should be doing more to help their city.

“There’s this feeling here in Tripoli that we’re left out. Maybe that will change now that we have five ministers and a prime minister from here,” says Naji. “We need to put pressure on them.”

Sara Ayoubi, a 23-year-old master’s student in computer science doesn’t expect things to change anytime soon, and she’s already decided that she’ll move to the capital city to seek work upon graduation.

“This is where I was born. If I could stay, I would,” she says.

“But things are going backward here. I’d like to see Tripoli get better, but I don’t see that happening.”

But some residents are more optimistic, despite the odds they are facing.

Ozo Najjar, a freelance software developer who works and lives in Tripoli, where he is active in civil society, is adamant that he will remain in the city, regardless of its problems.

“When you see something wrong with something you love, and you see that it can be fixed, and that it can be great, you do whatever you can to change it.”