The situation of Lebanon's displaced remains precarious with the absence of a functioning state. Until a solution is found, the struggle continues.

Dana Hourany
Fatima, 67, was determined not to leave her home in Nabatiah el-Fawka. Throughout the war that began on October 7, 2023, she remained steadfast, staying with her husband and four children. Everything changed on Monday, September 23, when Israel launched a series of carpet bombings across south Lebanon, the Bekaa Valley and later the Beirut southern suburbs. That day, she realized it was time to flee.
“The missiles were falling all around us, and we didn’t know if we’d be next,” Fatima told Fanack.
She quickly packed her children into the car, and she and her husband drove toward Beirut.
“We didn’t know what was more dangerous—risking our lives on the road or staying home where a rocket could hit us at any moment,” she said.
Amid the sounds of screaming children, the constant roar of missiles, and explosions she couldn’t locate, her husband drove without a clear destination. Their only option was to seek refuge with family in the southern suburbs of Beirut (Dahye), which had remained relatively safer than the south. Up until that day, Israeli attacks on the densely populated suburb had been somewhat sporadic and limited.
“I looked back at my house with a heavy heart,” she said, her voice filled with grief. “I knew if I left, I might not find it when I returned.”
In the evening, Israel unleashed a devastating barrage of airstrikes across large parts of Lebanon, marking the deadliest day since the clashes between Israel and Hezbollah began. According to authorities, more than 500 people—many of them women and children—were killed, and over 1,800 were wounded. The death toll now stands at 2,083 killed, including at least 127 children, according to the country’s Health Ministry. Numbers are updated daily.
Desperate to escape, residents fled en masse.
Fatima and her family were caught in a 16-hour traffic jam for a journey that would normally take an hour and a half.
“We were lucky,” she said. “At least we weren’t close to the bombs, and our car didn’t break down like others.”
In the days that followed, clashes intensified, with daily bombings throughout south Lebanon, the Bekaa Valley, and Beirut’s southern suburbs. On Friday, September 27, Israel dropped dozens of bombs on an apartment complex in Dahiyeh, killing Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah and an unknown number of civilians after leveling several residential buildings.
According to the Lebanese government, at least 1.2 million people have been displaced due to Israel’s attacks, 90 percent of them in the last week of September. Some have found shelter in schools, but thousands now sleep in mosques, under bridges, or on the streets, as shelters are over capacity.
Lama, 19, and her family would have been among the many left without shelter had it not been for relatives in the town of Arsal, located in the Baalbek district.
Already displaced from their home in Aitaroun, south Lebanon, they had been staying in the village of al-Ain, Bekaa.
“The bombs were getting closer and closer, and we knew we had to flee immediately,” Lama told Fanack.
As they made their way to Arsal, they were stopped at a checkpoint by locals and denied entry because they were Syrian.
“We had to call someone who knew people in the town to help us get through,” Lama explained. The person who intervened clarified to those at the checkpoint that they were Syrians coming to stay with relatives, not at a school designated for displaced Lebanese.
Several Syrians residing in Lebanon were killed in Israeli airstrikes, with the highest toll occurring in the town of Younine in the Bekaa Valley. The Israeli raid on September 26 claimed the lives of 20 people, 19 of whom were Syrian nationals.
Most families have lost their jobs and homes, and the chaos has deprived the majority of southern residents of economic security. Syrian refugees are among the hardest hit, experiencing double displacement. Lebanese officials have called on Syrians to return to their country, given the scale of the crisis.
While there has been an increase in border crossings from Lebanon to Syria over the past days, most Syrians remain inside Lebanon as the country continues to host an estimated 1.5 million Syrian refugees, and over 11,000 refugees of other nationalities, according to UNHCR. At least 185,000 people are estimated to have crossed into Syria from Lebanon, fleeing the violence, 70% of whom are Syrians and about 30% Lebanese nationals, seeking safety.
On October 4, the border crossing into Syria was cut by a new dawn strike, the United Nations confirmed.
“There were two strikes and a huge crater was created in the no-man’s land between the Syrian and the Lebanese side. It’s very hard for vehicles still to go through this road,” said Rula Amin, Senior Communications Advisor for the UN refugee agency, UNHCR, for the Middle East and North Africa.
In Arsal, Lama’s family managed to stay at a relative’s house, now shared with five other families.
“You lose all sense of privacy and normalcy,” she said. “Just when you start adjusting to a new place after being displaced, it’s taken away again.”
Although basic necessities like electricity and water are available, internet access is rare. Lama has had to adapt to a new routine—once able to enjoy slow mornings as a university student, she is now surrounded by adults and children, with little to no peace in the overcrowded house.
“We’re a large family, doing our best to get by, but we haven’t received any aid. We don’t believe there’s much help for Syrians,” she said. “But we have to support each other. We’re in a state of war.”
Temperatures are starting to drop, and Lama’s family didn’t have time to pack all their belongings before fleeing from their house in al-Ain.
“We were warned by locals that if we left Arsal, we wouldn’t be allowed back through the checkpoint. So we haven’t gone back for our things,” she said.
Migrant domestic workers also faced their share of discrimination amid the ongoing crisis. Lebanon’s 176,000 migrant workers, most of them women employed as domestic helpers, have been left to fend for themselves.
In downtown Beirut, dozens of migrant workers were abandoned on the streets after shelters refused to take them in. Some told local media that their employers had fled the country, leaving them stranded in Beirut.
Finding shelters has become a major challenge, and when they do find one, they are often told that priority is given to Lebanese citizens. However, local NGOs such as the Anti-Racism Movement (ARM) have stepped in to provide assistance.
Similarly, displaced people in the Metn region are suffering from the absence of government assistance, as overcrowded schools lack the resources to accommodate them. While individual initiatives, such as those by the Antelias Maronite Archdiocese and the Focolare Movement, have offered shelter and support, these efforts are incapable of substituting the state’s responsibility to provide for its citizens.
The Israeli army has intensified its warnings to Lebanese residents in various regions across Lebanon, prompting widespread displacement. On October 3, Israeli Army spokesperson Avichay Adraee warned residents of several villages in southern Lebanon to evacuate their homes immediately.
The affected areas include Biyyadah, Byout al-Saiyad, Rashidiye, Maachouq, el-Buss, Chabriha, Tayr Debba, Borgholiyeh, Qasmiyeh camp, Nabi Qassem, Borj Rahal, Aabbasiyyeh, Maarakeh, Ain Baal, Mahrouna, Bafliyeh, Deir Kifa, Srifa, Arzoun, Derdghaiya, Dahr Barriet Jaber, Jebel el Aadas, Chehour, and Borj El Chmali.
The Israeli army also warned residents against traveling south, stating, “Any movement south could put you in danger,” Adraee posted. The warnings are often issued during the night, and are followed by strikes within minutes.
In Rashidiye camp, home to Palestinian refugees in southern Lebanon, Rania and her family had hoped to remain, just as they did during the 2006 war with Israel. But this time, the escalating violence and warnings left them with no choice.
“The bombing kept getting more intense each day. At one point, the entire house was shaking, and we couldn’t sleep,” Rania told Fanack, describing the constant sound of Israeli surveillance drones overhead, which only added to the mental strain.
When the evacuation orders finally came, the chaos that erupted was “like the end of the world,” she recalled.
Hundreds of families fled, seeking refuge in UNRWA schools, relatives’ homes, or rented accommodations. Rania emphasized the difficulty of finding shelter due to financial constraints and the lack of available transportation. “Some people didn’t have money to leave, and there were no taxis available,” she said, adding that some taxis charged as much as $100 for a short trip to Saida.
Despite the dangers, many young men chose to stay behind, unwilling to leave their homes. “My brother refuses to leave,” Rania said, her voice breaking. “He says he feels suffocated at the thought of abandoning the camp. He and his friends, along with the doctors at the nearby hospital, are staying.”
Economic exploitation has worsened in the camp as well. “Last week, we saw stores hoarding goods, waiting to raise prices,” Rania explained. “A gas cylinder that used to cost 1.2 million Lebanese Lira now costs 4 million.”
Though Rania has found temporary shelter with family in Saida, she is desperate to find a place of her own for her parents and herself. But the high prices and reluctance of landlords to rent to people from the south make the search difficult.
“We, as people from Rashidiye, are deeply connected to the villages around us and to the people of the south. We owe them so much for their support,” she said. “But some landlords hesitate to take in anyone from the south.”
Though Saida feels safe for now, Rania is haunted by the fear that she might never return to Rashidiye.
“Leaving the camp is like tearing a part of yourself away,” she said, her voice trembling. “It’s not our homeland, but it’s part of us. We’re connected to its streets and its stones. When we see the entry to Tyre, right before the camp, we feel the spirit return to our bodies.”
Meanwhile, Zeinab, a resident of Burj al-Barajneh in Beirut’s southern suburbs, was forced to leave on September 24, just before the area came under heavy Israeli bombardment.
“I felt it was my responsibility to get my family out,” she told Fanack. “I couldn’t sleep, thinking about what might happen to them.”
Zeinab and her family relocated to Aley in Mount Lebanon, but the colder weather and the rushed departure meant they didn’t have time to pack winter clothes. “I have no idea what happened to my house, and I can’t afford to care right now. My family comes first.”
One heartbreaking aspect of Zeinab’s situation is that her new home overlooks the very neighborhood she fled. She can see and hear the bombs falling on Burj al-Barajneh, knowing her home and memories are at risk of destruction.
“We force ourselves to sleep, but we can’t truly rest,” she said.
Israel has claimed its strikes target Hezbollah infrastructure, but its broader strategy—often referred to as the “Dahiya Doctrine“—aims to inflict disproportionate damage on civilian areas, particularly in Shia-majority neighborhoods. The doctrine, named after the Dahiya suburb of Beirut, was implemented during the 2006 war and is being revived now, causing widespread destruction and civilian displacement.
Lebanese Christians have also not been spared. Last week, the residents of the southern village of Ain Ebel received warnings on their phones, forcing them to flee their homes. On October 2, a house in Debl, another Christian village in southern Lebanon, was targeted in the early hours of the morning, leading to the deaths of several family members. Up until the intensification of the Israeli attacks on Lebanon, the people of Ain Ebel, Debel, and other Christian towns had managed their daily affairs while insisting on not leaving their homes and remaining steadfast in their land. However, now everything remains uncertain.
While the end of the war remains uncertain and fear intensifies daily, Zeinab, Rania, Lama, and Fatima wait with weary hearts for the day they can return home. They hold onto the hope that as soon as a ceasefire is declared, they will be able to return.
However, the situation remains precarious, and with the absence of a functioning Lebanese state, the responsibility for the displaced and for providing necessary assistance and shelter fall into question. Until a solution is found, hopefully soon, people who have been forcefully displaced will continue to struggle.