Beirut: The young farmworker heard no warning when a blast tore through his group of farmhands in southern Lebanon on Sunday. Now he lies in a hospital ward in the nearest town, trying to survive the war unleashed across the Middle East when missiles slammed into Iran less than two weeks ago.
Ali Hussein, 20, is a Syrian who sought a life in a rural area of Lebanon with others from his home country. He is one of about a dozen Syrian workers who were targeted by the Israel Defence Forces while unloading poultry from a truck at a chicken farm. “We were working when the jets struck. It was at six in the evening,” he says from his hospital bed. “Two of my friends were martyred, the rest are still alive. And I don’t know why we were targeted.”
Hussein has shrapnel wounds to his chest, right leg, and right arm. His doctor says he will recover. But he is another victim of the violence that is spreading through the region and bringing danger to the world.
Escalating Tensions in the Region
We are at the Al Najdah Hospital in Nabatiyeh, close to where Hussein and his friends were attacked in the village of Yohmor al-Shaqif, which is within 20 kilometers of the borders of both Israel and Syria. The threat of war is all around us: the streets are empty, the shops are closed, and dogs roam the pavements, their owners nowhere in sight.
The medical director of this hospital, Alchafii Fouani, says the district is home to 200,000 people but now has fewer than 15,000. Amid the evacuation, however, the casualties still mount because some families cannot bear to leave. Fouani says up to 20 patients are rushed to the hospital each day after drone and missile strikes.
One feature of this war is beyond dispute: the attacks are intensifying by the day. Whatever is said in the White House about the purpose of the war on Iran, and whatever Trump claims about how soon the strikes on Tehran will end, the battle between Israel and Hezbollah is a lasting enmity that will not end soon.
The Human Cost of Conflict
That means civilians wait in the sure knowledge that an airstrike will come. In the ancient city of Tyre, also known by its Arabic name of Sour, residents at the old port share warnings about an impending strike after the IDF issues an alert. Some walk out to the seawall, next to the fishing fleet in the harbor, to find a safe distance from the city across the bay.
First, we hear the low roar of the jets. The aircraft are rarely seen, and the missiles are too fast for the naked eye at a distance. The first proof of the attack is a plume of smoke above the buildings behind the beach. Then comes the sound of the explosion. Then, the rise of a thick, black cloud that drifts over the city.
When the airstrike is over, a young couple walks back along the seawall; the woman is visibly distressed at what is happening to her country. With every strike, Israel demonstrates the power to bring Lebanon to its knees. The tempo is quickening in response to the volley of strikes from Hezbollah into Israel, and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu could widen the target list if he chose to inflict even greater pain on civilians. His message to the government of Lebanon is simple: disarm Hezbollah, or we will punish you.
Historical Context and Implications
In the hills above the Mediterranean, a woman stands in the rubble of a family home and tells us what she thinks of Israel and this war. Um Qassem, 55, is grieving her brother, who died in an airstrike here the previous day, and she is praying for her nephew, whose body lies somewhere beneath the broken concrete and twisted metal.
“It’s not about the calamity of what’s happening, like this destruction of houses,” she says. “It’s the resistance. It comes from inside. It comes from the need to protect the dignity and honor of the people.” She means the resistance to Israel – the same cause that has driven Hezbollah for decades.
We are in Ghaziyeh, just south of Sidon, the Old Testament city also known as Sayda. Workers operate an excavator to clear debris, while flames rise from some of the broken furniture. This was the home of four brothers, one of whom died in the blast. Six displaced people from southern Lebanon were staying, including three sisters. Two of the sisters lost their lives.
There is no time for sorrow when there is so much anger. Um Qassem is burning with fury over the attacks on the Shia Muslims of Lebanon. She talks of the 1982 invasion when Israeli forces overran the country and came to the edge of Beirut, and she says she remembers being denied the right to say “Allahu Akbar” in the mosques.
“We are not fighting for Iran,” she says. “We are fighting for ourselves, for our honor, for our dignity. If anyone would attack us, I want my husband and my son to go and fight to defend our dignity.”
Others share this righteous anger in response to the escalating attacks of the past two weeks. In a shelter for people who have fled their homes, a woman tells us she will send her son to war if Israel does not stop. Others talk of resistance. Every attack from one side deepens the grievances that trigger attacks in reply.
The Strain on Lebanon and International Reactions
The dust from the explosion covers the lemon tree in the neighboring yard, turning its leaves grey. The windows are shattered in most of the nearby buildings, and some are partially destroyed. Two brothers, Zaher and Samer al Nasser, have already begun reconstruction on their home next door.
The young man beneath the rubble is Mustafa, who ran a small store in the district. One neighbor, Mohammed Ali Ghaddar, 26, cannot believe that his childhood friend is gone. “He was about to get engaged in five days,” he says. “He’s the most pure person I’ve ever known. He’s super calm, doesn’t do any trouble.” Mustafa was asked to sleep over at the Ghaddar family house on the night before the airstrike, but wanted to stay home.
“This is a residential area,” says a municipal worker visiting the destroyed home. There is no evacuation order here, but death visits anyway. About 80 percent of the people in this neighborhood have fled.
The strain on Lebanon is immense. The government says more than 800,000 people are now registered as displaced, while 120,000 are now living in shelters. What the official statistics do not show is the number of families living in tents, or merely on synthetic blankets, on the streets of Beirut.
Every attack compounds the pressure on the government to act against Hezbollah, but the national army lacks the strength to control a militia that operates almost as a separate state, tied to Iran. In its regional strongholds, such as the south of Lebanon and the Bekaa Valley in the east, Hezbollah intensifies its fight against Israel.
Lebanon has to manage the differences between Shia and Sunni Muslims, Alawites, Druze, and Christians, including Maronites, Armenians, and Greek Orthodox. Every community suffers while Hezbollah and Israel wage a new phase of a conflict that goes back decades.
Lebanese President Joseph Aoun, a Maronite and former army general, criticizes Hezbollah for attacking Israel but seems unable to stop it. French President Emmanuel Macron tries to support Lebanon by warning Hezbollah to stop the rocket strikes. Syrian President Ahmed al-Sharaa is offering to help Lebanon stop Hezbollah. Netanyahu is intent on destroying the militia once and for all.
It is no exaggeration to say that many fear a new outbreak of civil war if the government tries to move against Hezbollah in concert with neighbors – including Syria – and with approval from Israel. The cost of stopping the strikes from outside the country may be a violent breach of the delicate balance inside.
There is also the prospect of an Israeli ground invasion across the border into Lebanon in the area bordering Syria, reprising the violence of the 1980s. With every airstrike, Israel is telling the people of Lebanon that it will keep battering cities and towns – and even chicken farms – to eliminate Hezbollah and stop the rockets that threaten the communities of northern Israel.
In the Al Najdah Hospital in Nabatiyeh, in a ward near the young farmhand, an old man lies on a hospital bed. Some have died, he tells this masthead, and some have had their homes destroyed. “The war is targeting all people,” he says.
In Lebanon today, nobody can feel safe.
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