Hezbollah backers claim ‘victory’ while sifting through rubble

Bekaa

In Bekaa, the scene is much the same. Convoys of returnees set off as soon as the ceasefire was announced, and efforts to clear the roads began immediately. Owners of buildings and shops started removing rubble as the dead were unearthed in towns across the Valley, grim displays of war. More are expected to be found. 

The shock of return was especially profound in Baalbek, located east of the Litani River, about 67km northeast of Beirut. The city's historic Ottoman mansion has been destroyed, and part of the famous Palmyra Hotel—which once hosted international stars like the singer Fairouz—is now just a pile of rubble. 

The sight of such destruction was heart-wrenching, yet one local here told me that there was still a sense of "victory" in the tragedy. For instance, the displacement of people from the Baalbek-Hermel region to Deir al-Ahmar had become an unexpected opportunity for solidarity and connection. 

"Our relationship with the people of Deir al-Ahmar was once tense, marked by political disagreements and religious differences," said one Baalbek resident. "But war has its way of breaking down barriers. It brought us closer, not just to the people of Deir al-Ahmar, but also to the good people of Arsal."

In the Bekaa, municipalities have begun their limited efforts to clear debris, count the damage, and repair infrastructure, as civil initiatives work to meet the immediate needs of those displaced, such as by securing diesel, temporary housing, and repairing any homes that can still be lived in.

Nabatieh

In the southern city of Nabatieh, home to a hundreds-year-old historic marketplace, the centre has taken such a beating that the city feels like it has completely lost its identity, with so much of its heritage wiped off the map.

Returnees flocked to the market and walked through the streets as if performing a sacred ritual. Most could not hold back their tears. The conversation shifted. It was no longer about politics, about victory and defeat, but about piecing together the remnants of their city.

According to some reports, 75% of Nabatieh's homes and infrastructure have been destroyed. Bulldozers have cleared paths through the market for vehicles, but whole neighbourhoods remain blocked until they can clear an entrance. 

When the time came, I went to the largely-demolished Saray neighbourhood to check on my house, a journey that was particularly emotional. It feels as if the Israeli army deliberately erased the very character of this city, which has long been a meeting place for those in the south. 

Public institutions, clinics, restaurants, banks, and businesses were all destroyed. The losses to Nabatieh's urban fabric are irreplaceable. These buildings embodied its political, social, and cultural history. They were landmarks of its identity, making it the 'metropolis of Jabal Amel.'

The home of Lebanese MP Mohamed Bek el-Fadel, one of the signatories of the independence flag, has been destroyed, as has the Cultural Council of South Lebanon. But there is no time for grief when bodies remain trapped beneath the rubble.

Dahiyeh

A particular target of the Israeli military was Beirut's southern suburb of Dahiyeh, entrances to which were clogged with traffic as residents returned home. Many waved the yellow flags of Hezbollah, displaying images of its slain Secretary-General Hassan Nasrallah, his successor Hashem Safieddine, and other leaders. 

On the streets, they celebrated a "divine victory"—the dominant theme here, despite the overwhelming devastation. Undeterred, residents spoke to journalists and chanted slogans of triumph, promising to remove Israel and liberate Jerusalem while cheering for Nasrallah and Iran's Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei. Away from the cameras and public, however, the mood was different. 

Walking through the rubble, residents sift for anything salvageable, trying to get closer to their homes to find anything that remains of their lives before the war. Neighbours embrace each other, lost in tears, mourning the death of children, the loss of livelihoods, the weight of displacement, and the uncertainty ahead.

Amid the ruins, Hezbollah flags flutter over the rubble. Some display pictures of Nasrallah. "We won, just as you promised," some residents say to his image before continuing their way through the devastation.

The night before, supporters of Hezbollah gathered at the site in Haret Hreik, where Nasrallah's predecessor was assassinated, to hold a memorial ceremony featuring laser lighting and candles that cast a sombre glow over the destruction of Dahieh.

Villages in the south 

From Naqoura on the Mediterranean in the west to Shebaa Farms near Syria in the east, a 120km borderland strip of southern Lebanon that is variously 5-7km deep has lost at least 37 entire villages—frontline casualties of an Israeli scorched earth policy that included soldiers booby-trapping homes. 

These destroyed villages are part of a group of 71 that remain off-limits to their inhabitants. Eight people were killed trying to enter their villages, despite this being prohibited at the moment under the terms of the ceasefire. More than 120,000 people remain displaced. Many lived north of the Litani River before the war escalated. 

The city of Nabatieh alone took in 13,000 displaced people, but it can no longer accommodate any more. Many of those who sought shelter have now returned to Beirut, Tripoli, Akkar, and Mount Lebanon, but the residents of the south cannot. Some now live under Israeli curfew, from 5pm to 7am.

Battered and dazed

The scale of destruction today far exceeds that of the last major war between Hezbollah and Israel in 2006. This time, state officials are largely absent. Despite their vague promises of reconstruction, Lebanese people know the state is bankrupt, with no money to help them rebuild. The hope of compensation, perhaps from Iran, is just a distraction. 

After the 2006 war, Iran's reconstruction efforts began swiftly, led by Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps General Hassan Shatri (known by his alias Hossam Khous Noyes), whose bulldozers cleared the rubble and rebuilt areas "more beautiful than before". Today, the IRGC is less able to help.

While there are no official figures for the number of homes destroyed by Israel in recent months, it is thought that around 220,000 housing units were either completely or partially destroyed, while according to the Ministry of Health, around 4,000 Lebanese have been killed and 16,000 injured. Hezbollah casualties remain unknown.

Across Lebanon, with so many 'missing', the full extent of the damage and losses is still being calculate. In dozens of villages, the picture remains hazy. Assessing the full cost will take time, but winter will not wait, and nor will the war-weary Lebanese, who once again have to rebuild after war.