The ongoing conflict in Lebanon has left a deep scar on its economic landscape, particularly in the southern suburbs of Beirut, including areas like Dahieh. This region, largely controlled by Hezbollah, has been particularly devastated by recent Israeli airstrikes. Devastation can be seen at the shops, businesses, and residential areas left in ruins. One prominent image from a beleaguered Dahieh showcases a car parts dealer’s sign buried amid rubble, revealing the lost identity and vibrancy of the area.
Imad Abdelhak, who operated a car garage next to a severely damaged building, found himself standing among debris, reflecting on the astonishing extent of destruction surrounding him. “We were so confident we wouldn’t be hit,” he remarked about the resilience and unity of the community. Yet, that confidence was shattered when the building next door took a direct hit. Although his garage withstood the immediate impact, concerns about structural integrity loomed large as assessments were still pending. Like many amidst the chaos, Abdelhak was left questioning how he and others could possibly survive the aftermath of such profound losses.
As news of a ceasefire brokered by the U.S. and France spread, many business owners in Lebanon began to reckon with their economic realities. Ibrahim Mortada, another dealership owner in Dahieh, succinctly conveyed the gravity of the situation: “I have lost $20,000 and my only source of income.” With his own business severely damaged, he, too, expressed uncertainty about the path forward.
The heart-wrenching stories didn’t end with Abdelhak and Mortada. In Nabatieh, a historical city with rich Ottoman-era architecture, many felt abandoned amidst the rubble and loss. Niran Ali, owner of a children’s clothing store, lamented not only her destroyed shop but also the absence of response from government or relief agencies. She observed a pink item belonging to her lost inventory, poignantly representing the remnants of her now-nonexistent business. Such sentiments were echoed widely across Nabatieh, where broader businesses like Jalal Nasser’s coffee shop complex had become mere ashes. Nasser quantified his losses at around $250,000, a staggering figure reflecting years of hard work shattered within moments.
The urgency for assistance became palpable. Hezbollah pledged to assess damage and allocate support, including per household allocations designated to help people pay for rent and purchase furniture—a temporary but necessary relief amidst an uncertain future. However, not all businesses felt confidence in access to these funds; the hope for a quick assessment was contrasted by the long wait many families faced.
According to the World Bank, the recent conflict has inflicted damages totaling approximately $8.5 billion. This figure looms heavy over a nation still grappling with the scars of past political and economic crises, most notably the financial collapse in 2019 and the cataclysmic port explosion in 2020. Hints of external funding for reconstruction, reminiscent of the response post-2006 war, seem fleeting this time, with major economies hesitant or unwilling to engage.
As local optimism wanes, thoughts turn to prospects for support. Amidst this uncertainty, environmental minister Nasser Yasin warned of impending needs for “billions of dollars” in recovery efforts, painting a grim picture of Lebanon’s immediate future. Concurrently, UN representatives reiterated the arduous road to recovery that lies ahead, emphasizing the scale of devastation faced by communities previously vibrant with life.
In the shadows of the ruins, individuals like Yusuf Mouzzain are left clinging to faint hopes of rebuilding their lives and homes, reflecting their collective resilience amid overwhelming destruction. “This is the worst war we have seen,” Mouzzain stated. Rebuilding may take years, if not decades, but for now, faith in the Lebanese community and its leaders remains a flickering light amid the rubble.
