After one-million pro-democracy demonstrators in Martyr's Square set off a political earthquake that stunned the Middle East and the world, 700 democratic opposition leaders set up a semi-permanent tent-city - called Freedom Camp - where they insist they will remain until Lebanon is a free country.

They picked the perfect location. Not only is the site on Martyr's Square just a few short blocks from Parliament, it is the place where all of Lebanon converges in its lush variety. The edge of the camp is only a few feet from a Roman archeological site. From inside you can see both the soft turqouise waters of the Mediterranean and the snow-capped peak of Mt. Lebanon rising in its majesty above the city. Across the street are Rafik Hariri's grave site and shrine, the Khatem Al Anbiyaa Mosque, the Church of St. George, and a Virgin Megastore selling iPods, plasma screen TVs, and the latest video games and DVDs. In the center of the camp is the Statue of the Martyrs, still riddled with bullet holes from the civil war.

Christians and Muslims live together not only in the same camp, but inside the same tents. (Christians make up around 40 percent of Lebanon's population.) Not only have Christians and Muslims in Lebanon been divided against each other, they have been (and in some ways still are) divided against themselves. During the civil war different sects and tribes sometimes fought each other with the same ruthless zeal they brought to the fight against people from other religions. Most of the tent-city residents had nothing to do with all that. They were, for the most part, terrified children during the war. The last thing they want to do is create a similar living hell for their own children.

After Hariri was killed, images of a Christian and a Muslim kneeling and praying together in front of his coffin were broadcast live on Lebanese television. The images stunned the nation and jolted millions of people out of their lingering sense of unease and distrust toward the "other." The scene has been replayed over and over again as the people of Lebanon watch transfixed in both horror at the atrocity that prompted it and in awe of what it means for the future of their country.

The tent-city is Lebanon's crucible. Here is where the hard work of reconciliation and the forging of national unity is taking place. These kids are the future civic and political leaders of Lebanon. Their countrymen look upon them with the deepest, most profound, admiration. They stay up all night strategizing about what they can do to oust the Syrian agents and clear the way for free elections. But just as importantly they stay up all night getting to know each other for the first time. They are building the bonds of trust that will, or so they hope, last the rest of their lives and lead to a permanent solution to Lebanon's long-simmering and sometimes explosive fratricidal conflict. The invisible Berlin Wall in their minds is disintegrating.

Student leader Nabil Abou-Charraf gave me a tour of the camp. I was slightly nervous and I had to ask: "Are you worried this place is a terrorist target?" Murderous Syrian agents still operate here, as does Hezbollah.

"Nowhere is safe in Lebanon," he said. "But this is one of the safest places. As you can see, we are surrounded by the Lebanese Armed Forces. They are protecting us. We talk to them regularly. We have their unflinching support. Many of them say if they were not in uniform they would be inside the tents with us."

Like Hariri's grave across the street, this is a crucial little piece of this world. Its importance is all out of proportion to its physical size. I can't help but think these people are fighting not only for themselves and for their own country, but - whether they consciously know it or not - on my behalf and for my country too.