Morning after an Israeli attack in Tyre, Lebanon. Credit: Nour

By Eliane Eid
JNOUB, Lebanon, Aug 15 2025 (IPS)

“Special, targeted operations in southern Lebanon,” a phrase that has echoed repeatedly over the past two years in Israeli Defence Force (IDF) statements. But behind these clinical military terms lies a human cost that statistics cannot capture.

The residents of southern Lebanon—mothers, fathers, children, and elders—are the ones who face the daily reality of displacement, loss, and uncertainty. Their homes become coordinates on military maps; their neighborhoods, theaters of “operations.” Yet their stories of endurance, grief, and quiet acts of resilience rarely reach beyond the headlines.

Through interviews with residents of “Jnoub,” we examine how communities are navigating displacement, processing communal loss, and finding ways to grieve while continuing to live. These are voices from a region too often reduced to geopolitical analysis, voices that reveal the profound human dimension of conflict.

“Ironically, my workplace is close to my old house’s rubble. I see it, as well as the zone where my pet died, on a daily basis. I haven’t grieved as I should… haven’t cried as much as I should have.

“I hate the sound of phone calls, especially the landlines and my father’s good old Blackberry phone, as they remind me of the time we received the threat and people were calling to warn us,” said Sarah Soueidan when asked about her daily routine after her home was destroyed.

Having both her residential house and her family’s house bombed by the Israeli Defence Forces, she and her family had to move repeatedly throughout the past two years. Her hometown, Yater, located in South Lebanon, was directly affected by the war, leaving nothing but old memories and rubble.

The night they had to flee their house in Southern Beirut, Sara and her family woke up to a series of calls while listening to the sounds of ‘warning shots’ on the streets. These shootings were made to help draw attention to residents who did not receive the warning to leave their houses and find shelter before the attack.

As it was only 10 am, they had to act fast, so she and her mother left the house first to see what was going on and then realized that their building would be hit. Sarah had to go back home to warn her father and siblings. Since there was not enough time, and her father needed assistance in movement, they had to pick him up and leave the house with as few objects as possible.

They made sure to put Halloum (Sarah’s cat) in his cage, but due to the rush and many people in the house trying to help, Halloum got scared and jumped out of his cage. Sara and her siblings tried to look for him before leaving, but there was no more time; people were dragging them out of the house. On that day, Sarah took his toys and food, hoping to find him again, but she never did. The Israeli attack on Sarah’s house in Southern Beirut reduced it to rubble.

Sarah and her family had nowhere to go as their house in their hometown, Yater, was also bombed, and they had to leave the area until things settled down.

The interview took place a while after the attack, as Sarah was now ready to talk about what happened with her and her family, stating, “While I am not politically affiliated with anyone, nor would I discuss the reasons for escalation, as it is debatable, yet aggression and terrorism would always be so, without any reason. I was born and raised in these areas and streets. None of the allegations regarding ‘weapons, machinery, or drones under a three-story building’ are true. We need answers or proof.”

Halloum the cat, lying next to a Christmas tree. Credit: Sarah Soueidan

Many neighborhoods, streets, and buildings were targeted in the process; no one knew how or why, they only received images of their building with a warning that they needed to evacuate.

“The bomb was so close and I heard the sound of the missiles just before they reached the ground (and here you didn’t know if the missile would fall on you or no) and when I heard that, I ran toward my son and hugged him, then the missile exploded. This was repeated three or four times,” said Zaynab Yaghi, who is a resident in Ansar, a village in South Lebanon. Zaynab and her family had to leave South Lebanon under stress and fear of the unknown, all while trying to control the emotions of her son in order not to scare him even more.

Zaynab, like many others, had to live under stressful conditions, waiting for the unknown. Even after the ceasefire was agreed upon, residents in Southern Lebanon were still unable to go back home or live a normal life.

“Nearby buildings were struck after the ceasefire (one as far as 100m away from our own home). We were very surprised the first time it happened and scrambled to leave. It was very frightening,” said Mohammad Wehbe, who lost his home in Ainata and his apartment in the suburbs of Beirut, which was affected by the bombing of nearby buildings.

After talking to many people from different villages and areas in South Lebanon, there was one thing that made them feel a sense of hope, and that was community, traditions, and resistance. Resistance by choosing to go back, to have a future, present, and past within their grandparents’ land, and to grieve by holding on to what was left.

When asked, Nour described her village as a step back in time, a place of simplicity, serenity, and beauty. Nature all around and people who are warm and always have their doors open for strangers. Nour’s village, which is located within the Tyre district, was directly affected by the Israeli attacks. Her old neighborhood was completely demolished, and while the streets feel empty, she is trying to visit the area as much as possible to remember, to tell the story of those forgotten, and to belong to something greater than a title.

“The first time I went in winter, it felt strange: silence and destruction. But visit after visit, nature and the people of nature try to live again. That gives me hope. We’ll be fixing our home again. What matters is that we acknowledge this land is ours. And on our land, I can sense existence.”

While Nour gets her strength from people around her and her will to go back and build her home again, some have lost it completely, as it is not black or white; there is not a single way of grieving, existing, and living within times of chaos and displacement. “What beliefs I had before the war are long gone now. I don’t think I have processed what happened and I cope by ignoring everything and focusing on survival. Hope certainly feels like a big word these days,” Mohammad Wehbe said.

Compounding these challenges is the absence of government support. None of the interviewees have received any assistance from official channels, instead relying on their savings and help from family members to survive. This reality adds another layer of uncertainty to their daily struggles, as they navigate displacement and loss without institutional backing

These stories from Southern Lebanon reveal the complexity of human resilience in the face of displacement and loss. While some find strength in community and connection to their ancestral land, others struggle with the weight of survival itself. What remains constant is the need to bear witness to these experiences, to ensure that behind every military briefing and policy discussion, the human cost is neither forgotten nor reduced to mere statistics.

The residents of Jnoub continue to navigate an uncertain future, carrying with them the memories of what was lost and the fragile hope of what might be rebuilt. Their voices remind us that recovery is not just about reconstructing buildings but about healing communities and honoring the stories of those who endure.

IPS UN Bureau Report

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By Eliane Eid
BEIRUT, Lebanon, Aug 7 2020 (IPS-Partners)

Eliane Eid, IPS correspondent in Beirut spoke to a cross section of people who shared their views and fears with her. On the third day of the deadly explosion, amidst an outpouring of anger from the Lebanese people, Angelina, 18, speaks about her lost home in the Mar Mikhael area. Josette, 27, talks about her experience of the explosion while she was on the road and Charbel, 28, shares his thoughts about being a volunteer at this critical time. They are all numb and speak calmly of how their lives were turned upside down, with this tragedy affecting thousands of people.

By Eliane Eid
BEIRUT, Lebanon, Aug 6 2020 (IPS-Partners)

Following the massive explosion in Beirut on Aug. 4, IPS correspondent Eliane Eid reports that the residents of the city are still shell shocked. Beirut looks like a battlefield, with destruction all around. The main port was on fire before the explosion. Described by some quarters as a “chemical bomb”, the explosion ripped through the heart of Beirut While the investigations have begun, the Lebanese community is uncertain as to what might have been the cause of this exposition that tore apart peoples lives with the blink of an eye.

Outside of the Ethiopian embassy in Beirut, June 2020. Credit: This is Lebanon

By Eliane Eid
KESERWAN, Lebanon , Jul 10 2020 (IPS)

They were promised the world but ended up in a Lebanese household. This is the story of many domestic workers in Lebanon. With a 70-year-old sponsor system still in place, domestic workers are tied to their employers with little or no basic rights. The ‘Kafala’ system is the major problem behind what we have been seeing in Beirut in the last months.

Dumped outside of their embassies, many domestic workers were left without money, belongings, or their passports. In June 2020, when Lebanon witnessed a new wave of economic crisis, many of the Ethiopian domestic workers were left abandoned at their embassy doors in Beirut. With recent events that escalated the country’s economic situation, Lebanese people started losing the value of their national currency. And, since all domestic workers are paid in foreign currency, especially in US dollars, their employers were no longer able to pay what they owed their employees.

This situation exposed the reasons why Lebanon should abolish the ‘Kafala’ system and why Black Lives should also matter in Lebanon.

‘Kafala’ means sponsorship in Arabic. The International Labor Organization (ILO) and the Migrant Forum in Asia (MFA) worked on policy briefs to explain and examine the situation of domestic workers in Lebanon and in the Middle East. While referring to the ‘Kafala’ system they analyzed the main points of why it should change. The system makes the worker’s immigration status legally bound to the employer or sponsor. The migrant worker must sign a written acceptance of his or her ‘kafeel’ (sponsor) in order to exercise their rights, without which they would not be able to leave the country.

“This situates the migrant worker as completely dependent upon a ‘kafeel’ for their livelihood and residency” (ILO, MFA). In other words, an employer or sponsor can restrict the movements and any communication of the worker leading to abusive practices such as overwork, underpayment and even extortion.

With the power granted to the sponsor, many ‘kafeels’ used it to oppress Migrant Domestic Workers (MDW), resorting to physical and psychological abuse.

Domestic workers in Lebanon are mainly from developing countries in Africa or from South and South East Asian countries. The majority of them are women and, according to Amnesty International, Lebanon is home to 250,000 domestic workers.

Working conditions in Lebanon under the Kafala system. Credit: Eliane Eid

There have been many approaches by international and local communities to reform the Kafala system and even abolish it. Several NGOs, the ILO and many foreign embassies have raised the issue of reform with the Lebanese Ministry of Labor in order to ensure the safety and protection of foreign domestic workers from forced labor and exploitation.

‘This is Lebanon’ (TIL) is one of the organizations that has been working to help raise awareness of this modern-day slavery and protect MDWs from abusive families and employers. To protect those who agreed to speak, TIL used pseudonyms to ensure that they are safe and can continue with their mission.

When asked about the existence of modern-day slavery in Lebanon, a member of TIL, Patricia, told IPS that the answer is “an unequivocal yes”. She explained that the system justifies racial and class discrimination leading to apartheid-style societies. The reason why MDWs are considered “inferior” or even “subhuman” is because the system creates a culture of xenophobia, race superiority, sexism, and classism, and because employers see themselves as owners of these workers due to the power granted by the system.

According to Patricia, many workers don’t even know that they will be working in homes. They are usually lied to and promised job opportunities such as working in shops, restaurants, offices, schools and many other positions. She also mentioned that Nigerians are the worst affected by these falsehoods.

Zahraa Dirani, a freelance journalist and member of Fe-Male, an NGO that works with women and girls in Lebanon to eliminate injustice in the country, told IPS that the situation of MDWs is inhuman.

“Kafala puts domestic workers under the legislation of slavery” said Dirani. She explained that this situation is not humanly acceptable and is not part of the 21st century. Dirani stated that “NGOs are playing an important role in the society because they are intercepting and helping MDWs while the government is practically nowhere on this”.

According to Dirani, when Fe-Male decided to work on the relationship between domestic workers and employers, “people asked us why would we mention the rights of domestic workers; they are stubborn and deserve what is being done to them. Why would I give her a cell phone, she gets more money than I do, she doesn’t need more rights – this Lebanese mindset was one of the main challenges that we had to face”. Dirani continued to explain that what they heard was expected, especially because the system gave the employers all the power to feel “higher” or even “better” than MDWs.

As of today, the solution remains opaque or unknown. Many MDWs were able to leave the country, but a lot of them are still waiting to see how this period unfolds. What is of concern, though, is how much pressure was brought on by the foreign embassies on the government and why they have been silent on the plight of their own nationals. IPS learned from TIL that most embassies are consulates run by “honorary consuls” and not foreign ministry officials of those countries. Here lies the conflict of interest and the unexplained businesses that have a huge impact on migrant workers. “They are Lebanese nationals who have used their position to foster their business interests and sometimes running a recruitment agency on the side”, TIL’s Patricia added.

Since many of the consulates have hidden agendas, the Lebanese government should take a stand to minimize the damage. Unfortunately, Lebanon is in a deep conflict with its own policies and the only action that came forth was to waive the fine for some MDWs in order for them to be able to leave the country.

Usually, whenever a migrant worker wants to leave, he or she has to pay 300,000 Lebanese pounds (approximately USD 200) as an exit fee. “This was prohibitive and meant that women who had escaped abusive employers who hadn’t paid them for months were effectively imprisoned in the country”, said Patricia.

The “Kafala system made people treat MDWs as if they were “things” or even a “property” while forgetting that they are human beings”, Dirani stated.

Imprisoned in a foreign country, left without money, lied to, abused, broken and left behind, why are the authorities turning a blind eye while so many are suffering? In Lebanon, each week, two female domestic workers die according to the General Security’s intelligence agency. Silence is not an option when human trafficking is pushed to the backburner.

Lebanese women in politics. Credit: Eliane Eid

By Eliane Eid
KESERWAN, Lebanon, Mar 2 2020 (IPS)

Women were at the forefront of Lebanon’s 2019 ‘October Revolution’. Beyond the iconic images of their participation, it seems that by women linking equity in politics to the broader issues of mismanagement of corruption paid off – although activists say there is a long road ahead.

In May 2018 saw the election of six Lebanese women to parliament from 86 female candidates. Following the October 2019 uprising, that started to change the equation within the political system and under the continued pressure of the civil society, a new cabinet was formed. It included six female ministers out of 20.

From a general perspective, this seems like a win for achieving gender equality, considering that 30% of the actual cabinet is female. Lebanon, a democratic republic in the Middle East, is deemed to have acknowledged the role of women and started to include them in the political field.

However, from a Lebanese perspective, questions arise whether this achievement is a veneer to please the streets and Western donors in a crumbling country?

Rouba El Helou-Sensenig, coordinator of the gender, communications and global mobility studies at the Faculty of Law and Political Science at Notre Dame University in Lebanon, is not convinced this change is enough.

“Even though the Lebanese government signed international agreements related to advancing women’s rights and their participation in political life, I believe that the Lebanese government is not serious about reaching gender equality,” she says.

“What has been achieved so far is the result of a combination of pressure from civil society and international bodies,” she added, citing a list of reasons why women’s rights within the country are flawed.
“Today, the Lebanese people, whether they are with or against gender equality, are aware that Lebanese women do not have the right to give their citizenship to their children; that the religious courts do not rule in favour of a mother most of the time.”

She says the Kafala system promotes more injustices in Lebanese society and “family friendly-policies should be drafted and implemented” as a matter of urgency.

El Helou-Sensenig explained to IPS that Lebanon still has a labour code with a long list of articles which prohibit women from working in certain fields. Gender-based violence and sexual harassment are still not appropriately criminalised.

Two young women rest in the morning of a new day during the October 2019 Revolution, Lebanon. Credit: Blanche Eid

Historically, Lebanese women waited until 1953 to vote and run for elections – and their fundamental rights undermined until Lebanon signed the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW) in 1997.

Most of the women in parliament have been elected based on their political affiliations or even traditional ones. Lebanese society has rarely seen any organic approach to promote female candidates in any election.

This year the World Economic Forum (WEF), in its 2020 report Mind the 100 Year Gap, noted that gender parity would not be attained for 99.5 years – meaning that none of the current generations will witness it. WEF’s even more sobering analysis puts the gap in the Middle East, and North Africa is 140 years. This is a challenge to NGOs and institutions fighting gender discrimination.

Once such a global advocate for gender equality and health and rights of girls and women, Women Deliver is working with five civil society organisations (CSOs) to breach the gender inequity gap in Lebanon. Its Humanitarian Advocates Program, along with the CSOs, is working toward meeting the needs of the women and children who make up 80% of the country’s more than 1 million registered refugees.

In the broader society equality will take time, but many countries still lack fundamental human rights, including Lebanon.

In February Notre Dame University held a seminar on women pursuing peace and justice and being politically active. During the seminar, Cedar Mansour, dean of the faculty of law and political science, explained that for Lebanon to make changes, women need to be more involved in policymaking and participation.

“In order to make a real difference, the change should start in the institutions. Equality should be paramount, inherited discrimination that is infesting our laws should be revolted against,” Mansour said.

By making laws and creating opportunities for women to become more involved, only then, Lebanon will have a chance to stay in the race.

Many factors stand in the way of achieving these goals, the seminar heard.

Lea Baroudi, the founding member and director of March, Lebanon, told IPS has personal experience of many of these challenges and what it takes to be successful.

“What made me continue is what I saw I was capable of doing. I had this belief that I can change. There are two struggles that affect us as women: the patriarchal attitude and the older generation mentality. The attitude of ‘you cannot do it’,” she said.

“But, to succeed, you have to fail many times, and that’s what kept me going”.

Baroudi explained that no matter what a woman will do, she will always be questioned and evaluated every step of the way. She always has to be number one in every field; otherwise, she is considered weak and powerless.

“As long as we cannot change the laws, we have a problem” she adds. Lebanon needs a shift in the understanding of gender equality and its implementation. Many factors play an essential role in shaping this culture, especially patriarchal power rooted in the Lebanese mindset.

In 2016, Lebanon created the first ministry of women’s affairs; this initiative was supposed to be a step forward to achieve political empowerment and gender equality. In the case of Lebanon, the minister of women’s affairs was a man. The idea of creating this ministry was to promote political empowerment, but a female figure in Lebanese politics is known to be more of a mediator than an action taker.

Four months have passed since the revolution started – women have taken a critical role in keeping this uprising safe and its agenda in the spotlight.

One of the current demands is to have an early election with more women involved.

Lebanon might witness a new era of female leaders, but the key issue is whether create a safe environment for Lebanese women by changing policies or they would fall in the trap of being the winning ticket for political parties.

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