The Levantine Pioneers: How Arab Immigrants Helped Build Modern Latin America
In the markets of São Paulo, the streets of Santiago, and the plazas of Mérida in Mexico, you may hear surnames that sound instantly familiar to an Arab ear: Haddad, Khoury, Saab, Nasser, Bukele, Slim. Behind each of these names lies a family story that began more than a century ago in the villages and towns of the Levant. It is one of the most remarkable migration stories in modern history, and it is still unknown to many readers in the Arab world.
Why They Left the Levant
Large-scale migration from Greater Syria, a region that included today's Lebanon, Syria, Palestine, and Jordan, began around the 1880s. At the time, the region was part of the Ottoman Empire. Economic hardship, the decline of the silk industry in Mount Lebanon, population pressure, and political uncertainty pushed many young men and families to seek opportunity abroad.
Some headed to the United States, but a very large number chose Latin America. Countries such as Brazil, Argentina, Chile, and Mexico were growing quickly and welcomed newcomers who could work and trade. Because the first arrivals carried Ottoman travel documents, locals often called them turcos, "Turks," a nickname that many families found frustrating, since they were proud Arabs and not Turks at all. Over time, however, their own achievements replaced the label with respect.
From Peddlers to Pillars of the Economy
Many of the first immigrants arrived with little money and did not speak Spanish or Portuguese. A common path was peddling. They carried fabrics, needles, buttons, and household goods on their backs, traveling from farm to farm and village to village. In remote areas where stores were rare, the Arab peddler, known in Brazil as the mascate, became a familiar and welcome visitor.
With patience and savings, peddlers opened small shops, and shops became wholesale businesses and factories. In São Paulo, the famous Rua 25 de Março became closely associated with Syrian and Lebanese merchants and remains one of the busiest commercial streets in Latin America today. In Mexico, the family of Carlos Slim, whose father Julián Slim Haddad emigrated from Jezzine in Lebanon, built a business legacy that eventually made him one of the wealthiest people in the world.
Chile's Remarkable Palestinian Community
Chile is home to one of the most striking chapters of this story. The country's Palestinian community, largely descended from Christian families from Bethlehem, Beit Jala, and Beit Sahour, is often estimated at several hundred thousand people, frequently described as the largest Palestinian community outside the Arab world.
In 1920, members of this community founded Club Deportivo Palestino in Santiago. More than a century later, the football club still plays in Chile's top division, and its players wear jerseys in the colors of the Palestinian flag. For many Chileans of Palestinian descent, the club is more than a sports team; it is a living symbol of memory and identity passed from grandparents to grandchildren.
Poets, Writers, and the Mahjar Literary Movement
The Arab immigrants in Latin America did not only bring trade skills; they also brought a deep love of the Arabic language. In Brazil and Argentina, Arabic newspapers and magazines appeared in the early 20th century. In 1932, a group of Arab writers in São Paulo founded al-Usba al-Andalusiyya, the Andalusian League, a literary circle whose very name looked back to the golden age of Al-Andalus.
These writers belonged to what Arab critics call adab al-mahjar, the literature of the diaspora. Poets such as Rashid Salim al-Khoury, known as al-Sha'ir al-Qarawi or "the Village Poet," wrote powerful verses about longing for the homeland, faith, and identity. Their work was read and admired back in Beirut, Damascus, and Cairo, creating a cultural bridge across the ocean. Later generations continued the tradition in Portuguese and Spanish; the Brazilian novelist Milton Hatoum, born in Manaus to a family of Lebanese origin, is one of the most respected writers in Brazil today.
Presidents of Arab Descent
Perhaps the clearest sign of how deeply Arab immigrants integrated into Latin American society is political. Several heads of state have been of Arab descent. Carlos Menem, president of Argentina from 1989 to 1999, was the son of Syrian immigrants from Yabroud. Julio César Turbay Ayala, president of Colombia from 1978 to 1982, had a Lebanese father. In Ecuador, both Abdalá Bucaram and Jamil Mahuad had Lebanese roots. In El Salvador, Antonio Saca and Nayib Bukele both come from families of Palestinian origin. Honduras, too, has a large Palestinian community whose members have held the country's highest office.
Food That Crossed the Ocean
Arab cuisine also found a warm home. In Brazil, quibe (kibbeh) and esfiha (sfiha) are sold in bakeries and snack bars across the country, and many Brazilians consider them part of their national food culture. In Mexico's Yucatán peninsula, where a significant Lebanese community settled, kibi is a popular street snack. Hummus, tabbouleh, and stuffed grape leaves appear on menus from Buenos Aires to Bogotá.
A Bridge Between Two Worlds
For Arab travelers, discovering this history can be a moving experience. Meeting a shopkeeper in São Paulo whose great-grandfather came from a village near Zahle, or watching a Palestino match in Santiago, reminds us that the Arab world and Latin America are connected by blood and memory, not only by history books. Today, millions of Latin Americans of Arab descent form a natural bridge between the two regions, one that can grow stronger through travel, trade, and cultural exchange. When you visit, do not be surprised if someone smiles, hears your accent, and tells you proudly: "My grandfather was Arab too."
