In South Lebanon, solidarity with the displaced despite everything

“Everyone is helping the displaced here. Some people speak about what they do to help, but others help silently and do things that go unnoticed,” said Amina, a young teacher living in Nabatieh who is hosting a displaced family in her home.

“Donations of money, clothes and medicines are made in the surrounding villages. Of course, this is negligible compared to what the government could do, but our government does nothing,” she continued.

According to AFP, the exchanges between Israel and Hezbollah have killed 200 people, mostly combatants, over the past four months, and displaced 86,874 people, according to the International Organization for Migration (IOM).

In a president-less country rocked by economic, social and financial crises, and without a functional cabinet, authorities have neglected those affected by the fighting in the south.

“Admittedly, our response is inadequate, but with zero budget, that’s something,” stated caretaker Social Affairs Minister Hector Hajjar at a press conference on Wednesday.

Hajjar stated that his administration would support 18,647 families in south Lebanon with a $2.5 million fund granted by UNICEF and the World Food Program (WFP).

Over the next few weeks, the Ministry of Social Affairs will pay a one-time allowance of $25 per family and an additional $20 per individual. This is far from enough to rent a flat, and the emergency crisis centers that opened in Sour, Hasbaya and Saida are not enough to accommodate everyone.

‘The situation would have been disastrous’

Currently, eight out of ten displaced persons are rehoused free of charge, while only 17 percent have to rent on their own, and two percent sleep in collective shelters, according to the UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (UNOCHA). For many residents of southern Lebanon, taking in these families was an obvious choice.

“Their children were at university with us,” said Amina, referring to the family she is hosting. They fled the border village of Taybeh and had nowhere to go. During the 2006 war, Amina, then aged 9, was one of the nearly one million persons displaced, and she feels a sense of solidarity with those who find themselves in a similar situation amid this conflict.

“This time, the inhabitants of the spared southern towns can help their neighbors, so everyone is pitching in,” she said.

Right at the start of the “33-day war,” the left-wing movements’ call to support civilians displaced by the war gave rise to Samidoun. For several months, hundreds of volunteers mobilized to feed and shelter the displaced, even if it meant breaking into schools.

“Samidoun had a political position: To support the resistance against the Israeli attack, whether or not they were with Hezbollah. At the time, we more or less did the job of the Ministry of Social Affairs. If we hadn’t mobilized, the situation would have been disastrous,” said Ghassan Makarem, one of Samidoun’s organizers.

Could such an initiative, which mobilized all Lebanese, see the light of day today? Makarem is cautious: “Firstly, political tension with Hezbollah is much higher than in 2006,” he said. “Media coverage increases this divide, with most TV channels describing south Lebanon solely as Hezbollah’s stronghold and neglecting the humanitarian situation.”

Joseph Daher, a professor at the University of Lausanne, said “Hezbollah’s isolation is also taking place at the social and sectarian level, due to a series of incidents, including the clashes in Tayyouneh in 2021 and Khaldeh in 2023, which have heightened tensions with the other communities.”

“Our houses are not open [to the displaced]” read a hashtag that circulated on X (formerly Twitter) in early October. It was a sign that pointed at this change in mentality. Beyond this political and sectarian dimension, Makarem pointed to “the weakness of civil society, since the October uprising.”

‘We can’t meet everyone’s needs’

There are certainly exceptions. For example, at Christmas, Paul and Tracy Naggear, parents of little Alexandra, who died at the age of three in the port explosion, mentioned in their end-of-year fundraising the “relatives and friends from South Lebanon who have had to flee to Beirut and the North.” The theme of their fundraiser this year was “solidarity and hope.”

On Feb. 3 Samidoun organized an evening at KED Beirut, with proceeds going to displaced persons in the south. “We want to distribute money rather than aid in kind to the displaced,” said Lina Sahab, a member of Samidoun, who explained that the event is intended as “a first step towards relaunching the movement.”

Fifteen people were actively involved, “ in addition to many volunteers who are ready to take action when the time comes,” she added.

However, Father Albert Abi Azar said that “most Lebanese living far from the front line say “Ma khassna” (Arabic for it doesn’t concern us).”

With his association Alpha, which has been present in the South since 2006, Father Abi Azar considers it his duty to help the displaced. “We distributed $200 a month to 400 families for two months,” thanks to international donors, he said.

“The aid is far below what is needed, particularly since the war is coupled with previous crises,” he added.

He mentioned the soldiers who are paid $100 a month, and whose displacement has made the situation even more unbearable.

“Soldiers are among the first people we helped,” said Odette Mikhael. Her initiative, Kelna Haddak (We are all by your side), has been distributing medicines to needy families “since the 2029 uprising” amid soaring prices and shortages.

With the wave of displaced persons, Mikhael’s Saida-based business has taken on a new dimension. “My phone never stops ringing with requests for medicines, but also milk for the children, mattresses and warm clothes,” she said.

When she runs out of medicines, she calls Oussama Ajami, who also collects them from pharmacies and residents of the Litani region.

“My house has turned into a pharmacy,” Ajami who founded “Pills of Hope” in 2019, said over the phone. In addition to donating medicines, Ajami’s organization raises funds to cover the medical expenses of the displaced.

“Even so, we can’t meet everyone’s needs,” said Mikhael.

While individual initiatives cannot replace state institutions, the latter, weakened by the crisis, are now only surviving on a drip-feed of international aid.

Hicham Fawaz, Head of the Hospitals and Dispensaries Department at the Ministry of Public Health said that “20 mobile clinics are available to displaced persons and those who have decided to stay, thanks to a UNICEF funding,” and added that up to 70 percent of emergency hospital costs for displaced persons are covered.

‘Paying for the damage’

“Most people go directly to Hezbollah clinics because they are often of better quality than public hospitals,” said Aurélie Daher, a lecturer at Université Paris-Dauphine and at Sciences Po, Paris and author of a book on Hezbollah.

Benefitting from a pull factor, Hezbollah managed to consolidate its popular base, while responding to the resentment felt by the war’s victims. By mobilizing its entire medical network, it has sought “to pay for the damage caused by its military effort,” said the researcher. This provision of services far precedes this war but has taken on a new dimension since the beginning of October, as has the payment of cash.

“The family of teachers we take in are not members of Hezbollah, but they receive $100 a month because they have had no income since the school was bombed in Taybeh,” said Amina.

While he also stressed the importance of the social organizations affiliated with Amal or Hezbollah, Joseph Daher, author of a book on Hezbollah’s economic policy, questioned the long-term effectiveness of such palliatives. “This support helps them occasionally, but with the financial crisis, people want to work,” he said.

However, the destruction caused by the Israeli strikes is likely to complicate the return to the labor market, particularly for farmers whose fields have been permanently affected by white phosphorus.

According to Father Albert Abi Azar, who is proud to be providing assistance independently of political parties, there is a need for a change in mentality within NGOs and other regions to help the survivors in the long term.

“To do social work on the ground, you have to stay, even when the funds dry up, to be part of the social fabric, so that you can make your mark, despite the constraints,” he said.

In the meantime, the main burden of solidarity continues to fall on local families hosting the displaced. “They won’t be able to remove from their plate forever and give to others,” said the founder of Alpha.

This article was originally published in French in L'Orient-Le Jour. Translation by Joelle El Khoury.