Calm streets in Beirut’s southern suburbs as tensions grow between Hezbollah and Israel, on July 29, 2024. (Credit: Olivia Le Poidevin/L’Orient Today)
BEIRUT — It's a tense moment in the streets and cafes in Beirut and its suburbs... or is it? On Saturday, a deadly strike in the Druze town of Majdal Shams, in the Israeli-occupied Syrian Golan Heights, killed 12 children. Since then, the Israeli government has been threatening Hezbollah — which it blames for the strike — and Lebanon more generally, with "harsh" retaliation. Hezbollah, fighting Israel in a "support front" since Oct. 8, has categorically denied responsibility for the strike. Now people in Lebanon are waiting, seemingly oscillating between anxiety and resilience.
'War would be hard on all of us'
In Beirut’s southern suburbs, residents expressed a range of emotions speaking with L’Orient Today, who was accompanied by a member of Hezbollah — a condition for being allowed to film. Several senior Hezbollah members are thought to live in the area, making it a potential target in any escalation. Shafia Haidar maintained a defiant stance. “Regarding the situation, we are not scared ... We have lived through many wars. We will not be scared of Israel — we are stronger now. If they strike, they'll get struck back. We are ready," she asserts. She recalls how, in 2006, when Israeli bombardments flattened whole areas in Beirut’s suburbs, she stayed behind.
Calm streets in Beirut’s southern suburbs as tensions grow between Hezbollah and Israel, July 29, 2024. (Credit: Olivia Le Poidevin/L’Orient Today)
Shawkat, another resident from the Mouawad area, says he is scared of an attack. “The recent assassination close to Mouawad was not easy,” he says, referring to the drone strike that killed Hamas’ deputy political leader in January. “At the end of the day, war would be hard on all of us,” he acknowledges, emphasizing the heavy toll of potential conflict on the community.
Ibrahim Ezzedine, also from the southern suburbs, offers a more cautious perspective. “I personally don't think there will be a strike in Dahiyeh because there is a lot of anticipation. The Israelis would not announce their plans beforehand; it's more of a psychological tactic,” he remarks, suggesting that the current situation might involve more psychological warfare than actual military action.
'If your neighbor's house burns down'
On the other side of town, Hamra Street is packed. With her blond hair cut short in a bob, Zeina says she's “a little more anxious than usual,” but that she also understands the situation.
“If your neighbor's house burns down, you can't just sit there with your hands folded — you know you'll be next,” she says. She’s certain that Hezbollah could not have been responsible for the Majdel Shams strike against Syrian children.
Imad, a local shopkeeper, agrees: “If we hadn't started this war, the Israelis would have dragged us into it,” he asserts, but he adds, “Our politicians have so poisoned our existence that Israel can't do anything worse,” before moving on.
Despite the lively street scene, the local stores are notoriously empty, reflecting the impact of the economic crisis, exacerbated even further by the war. “We haven't sold anything for eight months,” laments Mustafa, a shopkeeper who has spent his life in Hamra. He is not overly concerned by the current security threat. “Nobody dies before their time,” he says.
Sitting in one of the street's legendary cafes, Serwan, an Iraqi artist who has lived in Lebanon for the past 15 years, appears calm. “I've lived through wars all my life, much like this Lebanon that I love, and I don't find these Israeli threats so intimidating,” he says. However, he is “worried for Beirut” more than he is worried for himself, and has no intention of leaving the country.
For Jalal, a Beirut resident from the south, “Israel has been threatening us continuously for so long that only the weakest are still afraid of it.”
“I don't really believe in their threats, but if they want to attack us, we'll be waiting for them," says the 40-year-old.
Lana, a Lebanese expat living in Qatar, and her friend have come to window-shop in the neighborhood and are clearly not worried. "You want an answer? Come and see the program of activities we're organizing in Batroun [northern Lebanon],” Lana says emphatically. She had decided it was safe to visit Lebanon for the summer. “The Minister of Foreign Affairs reassured us, and I believe him," her friend says cheerfully.
'I'm not afraid of anything anymore'
A man in his forties sits at a cafe in Achrafieh's Sessine, where passers-by are few and far between on this particular Monday afternoon. Tony is serene, even responding to the possibility of a retaliatory Israeli strike on Lebanon with one word: “Inshallah.”
“Only then will our leaders wake up and decide to build a real state," he says with determination.
Sitting in the same cafe is another man named Tony. This Tony is playing backgammon with his friends. He shows the scars on his leg — the marks of an injury from the Aug. 4 Beirut port explosion.
“I'm not afraid of anything anymore,” he says. “But I'm worried about this country. You can't play around with Israel: look at Gaza, 80 percent destroyed. If Lebanon is affected in this way, who's going to rebuild it?" he asks, before launching into a diatribe against Lebanese officials, "all incapable of forcing Hezbollah to stop its provocations against an enemy so much stronger than it and us.”
Ghassan and Nada, on the other hand, aren’t really worried. “I don't think it's in anyone's interest to change the rules of the game,” Ghassan says. “If there was going to be a major strike, it would have already happened.”
Nada, a journalist, agrees a “plunge into the unknown,” isn’t worth it, “especially Hezbollah, which runs the risk of seeing the whole population turn against it, even its supporters,” she says.
Elias worries “this absurd Iranian-Israeli war, which has nothing to do with us,” could spread, while Rouba, a 31-year-old mother of two, says she's “more worried than usual,” even if she doesn't believe in the possibility of a major war. “Both sides have other things to worry about,” she says.
