Fearing all-out war, thousands flee southern Lebanon
'They came here without anything in their pockets,' says local official
Along the Lebanese-Israeli border, violence between the Israel Defence Forces (IDF) and Hezbollah militants has been steadily intensifying over the past two weeks amid fears that Lebanon will become engulfed in a broader conflict as Israel wars with Hamas.
Several countries, including the United States and Canada have urged their citizens to leave immediately.
Across the troubled country, people are bracing for a war Lebanon cannot afford, and thousands from the south are fleeing north to escape the skirmishes near the border.
In the city of Tyre, around 15 kilometres from the Israeli border, explosions could be heard in the distance on Friday. At the Tyre Technical School, refugees were being cared for by the UN's International Organization for Migration (IOM) and local officials. Standing by to assist was Hassan Mortada, head of the Union of Tyre Municipalities.
"They are mostly farmers, so they came here without anything in their pockets," he said. "We try our best to provide their basic needs, such as food, beds and covers as the weather is getting colder."
Refugees from south describe destroyed villages, casualties
Almost 20,000 people have fled southern Lebanon since Oct. 7 — when Hamas attacked Israel and fighting subsequently broke out between the IDF and Hezbollah — according to the IOM.
Among the displaced is Abdullah al-Grayeb, a Lebanese man from the border village of Zahajra, located less than a kilometre from the Israeli border. Grayeb left the village with many other families after Israeli shelling damaged his house and two vehicles.
Grayeb says that almost all of his village has been destroyed in the conflict. He arrived at the school on Thursday.
Grayeb says the IDF deployed white phosphorus in his village, resulting in property damage and civilian casualties.
"Some of the houses turned to ashes, turned completely into ashes, nothing else at all!" he said.
"Some people experienced shortness of breath because of the phosphorus bombs that were used. A woman suffocated while trying to help her husband who was injured by the bomb in his leg."
CBC News has not independently verified those details, but Human Rights Watch has recently accused the Israeli military of using white phosphorus inside Gaza and Lebanon.
Israel has called the accusation "unequivocally false."
The munition has a complicated standing in international law. Because it's used primarily for illumination and as an obscurant, it doesn't fit the UN's definition of an incendiary or chemical weapon. Its incendiary properties are considered "incidental" to its primary use, as are its toxic properties.
Another man from the neighbouring village of Yarine who did not give his name had also taken refuge at the Tyre Technical School. He said that Zahajra had been hit especially hard and that he was worried about the conflict spreading.
But Lebanese people have gotten used to disaster, he said.
"Lebanon is already destroyed … There is nothing left to be scared about. Why should we be sad to lose? Nothing is left to be lost," he said.
Crisis upon crisis
Lebanon's ongoing financial and governance crises have allowed Hezbollah to become the dominant military and political power. The Iran-backed militant group is both a political party that operates as part of the duly elected government and a rogue actor with its own standing army and governance system.
Like its smaller ally Hamas, Hezbollah is considered a terrorist group by Canada's government.
Lebanon's divided parliament hasn't been able to elect a president since October 2022, leaving the country with a bankrupt, caretaker government — and therefore enormously unprepared to deal with a war between Hezbollah and Israel.
Their last war, in 2006, killed more than 1,600 Lebanese civilians in just over a month.
Since then, in 2019, Lebanon's banking system collapsed and it spiralled into hyper-inflation. The World Bank has said its financial crisis may be one of the worst three in the last 150 years.
Then, in 2020, a devastating explosion in the port of Beirut destroyed a large part of the capital; a catastrophe for a country heavily reliant on imports, made worse by lockdowns and supply chain issues stemming from COVID-19.
Lebanon also already had a significant population of people displaced by war even before this current crisis. According to the UN, the country hosts almost half a million Palestinian refugees, many of whom were born in Lebanon after their parents fled the Israeli-Arab wars of 1948 and 1967 and still live in refugee camps.
There are also over 1.5 million refugees of other nationalities, mostly Syrians, inside the country, according to the UN.
Common enemy
While the Lebanese people are divided in their support between Hezbollah, the central government and other sectarian groups, Israel remains a common enemy for many.
"While many don't approve of [Hezbolllah] dragging Lebanon into another conflict, they believe in the necessity for internal unity as the country braces for an Israeli attack, leading to internal displacement, and potentially more loss of life on the Lebanese side," said Mohanad Hage Ali, senior fellow at the Carnegie Middle East Centre, a Beirut-based think-tank.
One Lebanese Armenian man said he would defend Lebanon if push came to shove.
"It's Hezbollah that would be doing the fighting, not the Lebanese military, but if we all have to fight, for sure I would," said Avo Boiynerian. "I don't have any training, I'd be starting from scratch. But if Lebanon is going to collapse, for sure I would help."
However, not everyone in Lebanon considers the fight for southern Lebanon as their own.
"I don't care what is happening in the south of Lebanon," said Hagop Havartyan, a Lebanese Armenian man who owns a variety store in Beirut and advocates for the partition of Christian and non-Christian society in Lebanon. "I don't go there, and I don't plan on going there."
'A lot of bombing and flying sounds'
Eighty-three kilometres north of Tyre, other people from southern Lebanon have found living arrangements with family members in Beirut.
Mariam Fawaz and her family are from Chaaitiyeh, a farming community in the Tyre municipality. Her husband and three children are now staying at her brother-in-law's house.
"Honestly, we couldn't sleep," said Fawaz, holding two children in her arms. "There was a lot of bombing and flying sounds. That's why we came here. We thought it's safer and calmer for the children. I have some relatives that are still in the village. But they don't have anybody here to stay with."
Hussein Fawaz, her brother-in-law, opened his home to Mariam's family. But for Hussein, supporting his own family has been hard enough.
"It's been a week now for them at my house. There are five people in the other room right now," he said, sitting next to his disabled daughter in a wheelchair that is too small for her.
Hussein has been unemployed since he lost his shoe store due to complications brought on by Lebanon's economic crisis. He gets by with occasional donations from a family member in Sweden.
"It's been a while since I'm not working. Mostly, I stay beside my daughter," he said.
With files from CBC News
