Lebanon’s displaced feel forgotten while war rages in Gaza

People who have fled the cross-border clashes in Lebanon's south warn that the world is underestimating the extent of fighting while the country is ill-prepared for a breakdown in rules of engagement.

People walk along a street at the entrance of the Burj al-Barajneh Palestinian camp south of Beirut on November 15, 2023, as battles between Israel and Hamas militants in the Gaza Strip continue.
AFP
People walk along a street at the entrance of the Burj al-Barajneh Palestinian camp south of Beirut on November 15, 2023, as battles between Israel and Hamas militants in the Gaza Strip continue.

Lebanon’s displaced feel forgotten while war rages in Gaza

Civilians who have fled Israel’s incursions into Lebanon’s south feel abandoned after the violence the war in Gaza has eclipsed there.

They are also warning that the extent of the violence is being underestimated and that the country is under-prepared for the breakdown of internationally-recognised rules of engagement, which are designed to stop a full-blown war.

But there is a feeling among the people of the south that the rules are in danger of coming undone. That comes amid an unprecedented economic crisis in Lebanon.

They also arise from two other factors: a lack of faith in the National Emergency Plan to cope with any escalation in conflict and the existing imbalance in the rules of engagement.

Displaced people suspect that an enduring and sprawling war could be developing in the homelands they have had to leave behind.

Whatever happens next, many people from the south are already suffering — far from home. A woman from the area, currently sheltering in a Beirut suburb, said: “It's as if we’ve been erased from the map.”

REUTERS
People walk in Shatila Palestinian refugee camp, in Beirut suburbs, Lebanon November 21, 2023.

Whatever happens next, many people from the south are already suffering, far from home. A woman from the area, currently sheltering in a Beirut suburb, said: "It's as if we've been erased from the map."

Fleeing in the thousands

Most of the displaced people come from villages in southern Lebanon. There are also some from the Bekaa Governorate.

A report recently published by the International Organisation for Migration (IOM) found that over 29,000 people have moved to non-border regions in the south, Beirut and its suburbs, the north, and Mount Lebanon. Some sought shelter with family, while others rented apartments. High prices mean families often have to live in shared homes.

The rental of furnished apartments has reportedly doubled, sending the price of a two-bedroom apartment from $500 to $1,000. In the outskirts of Aley, the rental of an unfurnished apartment has risen from $200 to $400, while for furnished apartments, it climbed from $400 to $800.

Some shelters in the southern city of Tyre have become home to some of the most vulnerable people who lack the family ties or the financial means to fund accommodation elsewhere.

The response plan there is overseen by the Union of Tyre Municipalities. The head of its Disaster Management Unit, Mortada Mhanna, told Al Majalla that the number of displaced individuals in the District reached 12,910 as of 13 November, increasing at a daily rate of 400 people.

There's no official recognition of a war in Lebanon today, which has deterred international organisations from providing relief.

Mortada Mhanna, Union of Tyre Municipalities

He added: "The conditions surrounding this latest wave of displacement of southern residents are harsher than the July 2006 war."

"There's no official recognition of a war in Lebanon today, which has deterred international organisations from providing relief, not to mention the stifling economic conditions that the displaced and host communities are grappling with."

The union struggles to provide essentials like mattresses, blankets, food supplies, baby formula, nappies, and female hygiene products, while international organisations offer limited quantities.

When asked about coordination between Tyre municipalities and the government's emergency plan, Mhanna said he does not know any upcoming steps or government support.

Borderland villages deserted

Ahmad, a father of two – including a newborn baby – sought refuge with his small family in a relative's home on the outskirts of Sidon.

"My wife is in postpartum, and she's in a delicate mental and physical state that she is finding hard to navigate outside our family home," he said.

They returned, only to find their village almost deserted. So few families remained that Ahmad said there was no sense of social cohesion left, wiping out the feeling of community for which the place was once renowned.

There is only marginal acknowledgement of the suffering of displaced southerners in much of the rest of Lebanon, prompting activists to remind people of it in videos and blog posts, saying: "Don't forget that the south is part of Lebanon."

They are pleading with fellow Lebanese to rise above sectarian differences, which some see as a contributing factor to indifference in Lebanon to the displacement crisis in the south, where there is a perception that the population is affiliated with Hezbollah.

Schools closed

Mirvat Bazzi, a vocational education teacher currently staying at her parents' house in the southern suburbs of Beirut, found herself out of work when all schools in border areas were closed in October at the government's behest.

The minister of education asked that teachers within areas receiving displaced people give lessons in schools to affected students. She criticised the "impromptu decisions of the minister, which have proven far removed from reality."

The choice was left to individual schools in other parts of the south. Bazzi shared the challenges that her husband, also a state school teacher, faced during their initial displacement to Tyre:

"My husband was asked to enter a classroom and give a philosophy lesson immediately. I wonder what quality of education displaced students will receive – if they are fortunate enough to receive it in the first place."

Bazzi added that her husband had to earn extra income by working for a private school: "My husband is experiencing a dual displacement. He wraps up his teaching day in the village of Tibnine, then returns to reside in his family's home in Jmaijmeh. Then he travels to Beirut to reunite with me and our two daughters during weekends."

AP
Syrian children play soccer in their tents at a refugee camp in Bar Elias in the Bekaa Valley, Lebanon, on July 7, 2022.

This has intensified the psychological strain on her daughters, who are also being deprived of education. "Official schools lack the mechanisms to cope with crises, and the students bear the brunt of this failure," she says.

In contrast, private schools in the south continue the academic year through online platforms first adopted during the COVID-19 pandemic. Some schools have even allowed students to join affiliated colleges with the same curriculum.

Bazzi said: There's a common belief that border areas are abandoned and desolate regions—when, in fact, our homes and fields are there."

Phosphorous in the olive groves

Rules of engagement may cover the clashes between Israel and Hezbollah in the south of Lebanon, but even so, lives are lost, and there is significant destruction.

So far, at least 11 civilians have died, including journalists covering the conflict.

Israeli strikes on Lebanon's south have included phosphorous shells, which have not only interrupted this year's harvests but may have done longer-term damage to the land best known for growing olives.

According to the Ministry of Environment, around 462 hectares of agricultural and forest land in the region have been affected, another reason why people have fled.

The rules in place between Hezbollah and Israel are supposed to limit the fighting to "action and commensurate reaction" via both parties upholding the UN Security Council Resolution 1701, issued in the aftermath of the July 2006 war.

Speaking to Al Majalla, lawyer and professor Paul Morcos, dean of the International Executive School in Strasbourg, said: "The essence of UNSCR 1701 lies in the local, regional, and international consensus upon which it was based."

"Stripping it of its practical implications does not negate its significance in the political scene or on the ground. It remains binding and enforceable by any party seeking to implement its provisions against the other party."

Morcos added that during and after Israel's recurrent violations or the occasional transgression by any party in Lebanon, the resolution retains its binding nature, and there is no need for a second resolution with the same content.

He underscored that failure to uphold the resolution stems from either party's non-compliance. This is especially true for Israel, he said, which has failed to fulfil the requirements of the resolution since it was issued, especially regarding the widespread deployment of the Lebanese Army alongside international peacekeeping forces.

Morcos concludes: "I wouldn't be surprised if a new resolution from the UN Security Council reaffirms this …  given its importance in defining the rules of engagement in southern Lebanon."

Israeli strikes on Lebanon's south have included phosphorous shells, which have not only interrupted this year's harvests, but may have done longer-term damage to the land best-known for growing olives.

Unfunded emergency plan

Lebanese authorities lack authority over some unfolding skirmishes, but it has a tool to maximise their control of any full-scale war that might develop: The National Emergency Plan.

But it is viewed with scepticism in the border villages of the south.

Drawing lessons from the 2006 war, the plan is set to be executed under the supervision of various state bodies, including the National Disaster and Crisis Committee at the Presidency of the Council of Ministers, the Committee for Coordination with International Organisations, and the Disaster Risk Unit.

But the plan is old and ambiguous and faces many obstacles, not least over funding.

Sadek Alawieh, a researcher at Information International, a Beirut-based analytics firm, put numbers on the matter to Al Majalla: "What's certain is that the plan needs an extra injection of funds, roughly 200bn Lebanese pounds, or around $2.34mn," he said.

He added: "On 1 November, the Cabinet issued decision no. 21 proposing the exceptional approval of a line of credit covering this amount in the 2023 budget. But the plan remains in limbo, as the Cabinet referred the decision as a decree to parliament."

Only six laws have been passed in a year-long power vacuum with no sitting president. Alawieh pointed out that the Lebanese government's ability to implement the plan remains theoretical.

This adds to southerners' suspicions that the current conflict is not only under-estimated but also about to worsen. This growing sense of danger and despair adds to the sadness that the hardships already caused by the wave of displacement.

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