Economics & PolicyIndustryIndustry

Crisis or Opportunity?

by Sherine Najdi & Thomas Schellen
written by Sherine Najdi & Thomas Schellen

Villages in turmoil, devastating damages to urban neighborhoods, and people forced into mass displacement: images you see as you peek over the obliterated half of Lebanon. Yet one month into the intense escalation–and subsequent invasion– following 11 months of cross-border assaults and aerial attacks against populated target areas across Lebanon, representatives of Lebanese industry tell Executive that they are staying the course of production and remain dedicated to location Lebanon.

“You wouldn’t find any company in Lebanon, if not for the illogical decision to stay here,” says Salim Zeenni, the president of the Association of Lebanese Industrialists. According to him, it is not only the latest Israeli aggression but rather the long chain of systemic obstacles and economic crises that forced industrialists to weigh their options of moving factories to other jurisdictions.

Middle East Airlines Air Liban (MEA) Airbus A321 line up at Rafic Hariri Beirut International Airport on April 11, 2012. AFP PHOTO / PATRICK BAZ

Yet against conventional business rationales, the companies that are here have taken their decision for Lebanon. “We took the challenge to stay and continue producing in Lebanon. And again, as long as the port and roads are still open, we are still moving [ahead],” he insists. He further points out that, unlike the destruction seen in 2006, there has been only minor collateral damages to industrial properties during the current conflict.

It cannot be denied, however, that the country’s manufacturing industries struggle severely under the uncertainty of war. Although some industries are working at capacity and one high-tech manufacturer even observes a week-over-week increase in productivity in mid-October, heads of industry on the level of both associations and companies are faced with potentially crippling supply chain disruptions of both imports and exports because of risks of destruction of critical infrastructures such as the Rafic Hariri International Airport (RHIA), Beirut Port, and connecting roads.

Resilience amid conflict

The industry’s export-oriented companies seem to be coping well regardless of the dire situation — a notion highlighted by Fadi Daou, founder and CEO of high-tech infrastructure component manufacturer Multilane Inc.

“We are still operating in the same way as before,” Daou says, asserting the company’s determination to function as it always does despite the war.  “We do see a minor slowdown in logistics,” he adds, commenting that logistics departments are having to function with reduced staff.

Zeenni likewise maintains that the industrial sector has not yet struggled with large-scale interruptions in operations. He says that despite the war, the sector is “still holding, still going on,” while many other industries are also adapting to new trends or realities.

Whereas Multilane’s business model of high-tech exports in the global B2B space makes access to aerial transport of goods a key potential disruption point, which according to Daou was partially addressed by increasing imports of raw materials and buildup of stock in the past six months before the escalation, Zeenni emphasizes that companies in sectors such as food production and personal care products are working at full capacity in order to meet local market needs as well as obtaining crucial revenues from exports. “For us, the most important market is not the Lebanese market. The most important is exports. Believe it or not, we barely do any profit out of the Lebanese market,” he notes.  

Supply chains at risk and extremely feeble state support

The main risk imposed on the industrial sector is the disruption of the supply chains, the foundation of the sector. Both Daou and Zeenni express the importance of the supply channels, the airport, and ports to the survival of the industrial sector—their closure would cause an acute disruption to the country’s imports and exports, “The biggest worry is a stoppage of the supply line and [potential] closure of the airport. If these routes remain open, we will still be able to provide jobs,” Daou says.

Zeenni acknowledges that industries relying on products or raw materials from afflicted areas such as the South and Bekaa—mainly the agricultural and agro-industrial sectors that have been dealing with losses and destruction, are unlikely to recover anytime soon. Zeenni mentions that these companies are trying to adapt by sourcing raw materials from other regions, or in some cases relocating production to safer areas. According to him, critical inputs of concern to industries include, on top of raw materials, access to energy and the flow of packaging materials.

Both industrialists also flag the need for redressing legal weaknesses and implementation problems in the collection and reimbursement of importation duties for materials that enter exported products. “What is needed from a long-term point of view to seize the opportunity and have impact on economy of Lebanon, is adoption of laws that make it viable for [high-tech] companies to come and manufacture such products in Lebanon,” says Daou.

Admonishing delays in handling of repayment of import duties and the trend of tax increases that push increasing numbers of economically active people into informal – or, in his description, “illegal” – behavior, Zeenni says: “Concerning taxes, the industrial sector has been the milking cow of the whole governmental institutions. We are working legally, so we do pay [our taxes]. This is against any understanding of any economic situation.” He notes, however, that current efforts are being made in collaboration with ministries for enacting programs aimed at modernization and renewal of industrial machine parks and for attracting investments into new industries.

Employee safety and productivity

In addition to the concerns regarding the supply chain, the safety of the workforce is a big priority in a time of war. At Multilane, Daou says he took several measures to mitigate the risk to his employees, especially those living in targeted or risky areas, and those needing to take dangerous roads to reach the workplace. “Employee safety is a very big concern. We’ve provided housing to certain employees so they can stay close by and avoid dangerous commutes,” he explains, adding that the company also incorporated a work-from-home policy.

Nonetheless, these efforts are still not enough to maintain employee productivity at the same rate—especially for people who are product developers and need lab access to do their jobs efficiently. “Productivity drops by 50 per cent when they work from home,” Daou says, “while the production team continues working to full capacity”. This flagrant contrast underlines the varying effects of war across different segments of the workforce.

Moreover, one of the reasons behind this drop in productivity is the mental strain that the employees are facing. “The morale of the team is the biggest challenge. People are on edge; every time there’s a loud sound, they jump to the windows,” Daou says. He resorts to encouraging his employees by sharing stories of resilience, hoping to inspire and bring back motivation.

Global implications and market pressures

When asked if the ongoing war will affect international demand for their products due to fears that Lebanese companies might become unable to honor contracts and meet delivery targets, Daou concedes the existence of such concerns in his global market. “We are spending a lot of time dealing with this specific issue,” he says. To hedge this risk, he is building contingency plans. “We have updated our business continuation plan (BCP) and are exploring partnerships in other countries like China, Turkey, and the Gulf.”

As for their long-term plans for growth, most were stunted. Daou notes that their business could have expanded by 20% in 2024 had the regional situation been stable. This depicts a macro-image of the Lebanese industrial market’s suffering, where they lose growth potential because of socio-political instability in the region in which they function.

Zeenni’s response toward this issue is the same, while also noting the rise of transportation costs that can impair viability of long-term contracts. Moreover, Zeenni points out the struggle to change prices and relays their efforts to “hold prices constrained” to maintain their presence in the market.

Hope for the future: post-war opportunities and long-term vision

Both Daou and Zeenni see hope for Lebanon’s future, especially its economy. Daou sees Lebanon becoming a hub for high-tech manufacturing, inspired by the current AI and semiconductors surge—all intended to happen after the war ends. “Lebanon stands a very good chance for some of the global high-tech manufacturers to build in the Middle East once the bombs stop,” he said. He sees a lower unemployment rate and better utilization of Lebanon’s competent and qualified workforce.

Part of Daou’s long-term vision is investing in Lebanon’s youth and human capital: “Our mission is to provide jobs to our young people so they stay in Lebanon,” he says, adding his intention, after returning to Lebanon in 2006, to be a part of the tech sector’s growth and the creation of high-value job opportunities for the Lebanese youth. Using Multilane’s academy, Doau’s company ensures the advancement of young talent, keeping them updated on tech trends and integration into the sectors while merging theory and practical technical work.

Daou is committed to keeping his company on the rise, along with personal morale, regardless of all new strikes in the industry. “At least in this week [the third week of attacks], the productivity index has improved significantly compared to last week,” he said proudly.

Zeenni says that he believes in Lebanon’s potential since it has risen again and again after each war and crisis throughout the years. In addition, he believes that Lebanon will always remain attractive to investors. “Just give us peace of mind, and you will be amazed what will happen,” Zeenni remarks. Easier said than done, but a sentiment that certainly reflects the forced adaptability and hardiness of Lebanon’s industries despite major repeated adversities.

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Real estateReal Estate

Inescapable: A more just realty

by Thomas Schellen
written by Thomas Schellen

An exploration of mortgage finance opportunities at a time of daily bombings and property destruction seems to be an anything but natural thing to do. Investing into a new home at a moment while the enemy bombs, blows up, and bulldozes dwellings in nearby neighborhoods with impunity but no true predictability, is at its most optimistic an act of calculating risk and opportunity in an extremely contrarian and reckless environment. At worst it is perilous and could destroy one’s own life.
In this and every other sense, the market for real estate development and property transactions in Lebanon must be assumed to be in a state of acute shock and extreme uncertainty. But markets are survivors. Their ability to adapt is the very principle of their existence.
 Moreover, it cannot be overlooked that even under the assault of war’s most malevolent forces and insidious lies, the needs of the Lebanese people do not change. The right to dignified shelter is the response to a fundamental human need. This need does persist and will resurge after the madness and evil of invasion under a fake pretext of defense has run its course – or if in an unlikely but far better alternative, the armed confrontations were stopped by global comprehension and multilateral repulsion and subjugation of this evil.  

In the meanwhile, three issues are on the real estate agenda: the supply of living quarters in socially and economically productive ways, the avoidance of haphazard construction activity that serves short-term needs but damages the urban and rural quality and violates long-term “green” development objectives, and the restitution of damages to the lives and properties of all people who are victimized by the war.   

Needs of planning the future amidst the morally valid dream of restitution

Of course, as long as the aerial and ground invasions last and wreak havoc on mental health and civilian livelihoods in Lebanon, it is not possible to map the property damages conclusively. Nor is it realistic to either plan for reconstruction and betterment of living quarters or assess claims for eventual reparations against the aggressors.
But both issues need attention already today. First is the practical aspect of people who are in need of shelter over the long term, and specifically a national need for shelter that is environmentally, socially, and economically sustainable. In this regard, it is a lesson of the internal conflicts of the past century that in times of armed confrontations and protracted violence, building activity in the country did not cease but was undertaken in ways that inflicted damages on urban fabrics and integrity of communities.
And then there is the moral elephant hidden in the mist of international discourses over human rights and victims of gross violations of those rights in countries like Lebanon. An even greater need than dignified shelter for the currently displaced Lebanese people is the need of safeguarding the rights of people living in the land without the specter of recurrent conflict. Part of satisfying this need could be for Lebanon to insist in front of the global community on reparations for unjust aggression by a belligerent neighbor. 
According to concepts declared by the United Nations in 2005, not just the losers in a war (as seen in previous conflicts such as the two world wars and severe reparations imposed on aggressor Germany in post-war negotiations) but generally victims of “gross violations of international human rights law and serious violations of international humanitarian law” have rights to “restitution, compensation, rehabilitation, satisfaction and guarantees of non-repetition”, through mechanisms of reparation “in a systematic and thorough way at the national and international levels.”

Imperative to define and settle reparations

In any civilized court and international order of justice among peoples, these reparations have to be towering on the balance of real inflicted damages by one party to the other. Note: Israel some years ago claimed to be owed $250 billion in reparation for the victimization of Jews in different countries around the region.
Lebanon’s 20th century past is not void of historic failings such as discrimination against the country’s Jewish citizens and pogroms in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s, acts that marred both the human rights record and the country’s philosophy as home to minorities without discrimination. Big however: Even if Lebanon assumes the responsibility for all property damages south of the border that have been inflicted from its territory, plus shoulders the investigation and eventual reparation burden from the anti-Jewish actions of the 20th century’s second half, the infliction of harm on Lebanese people in the various Israeli invasions and occupation periods of the 20th and 21st century up to the current war crimes enacted with determination and fake justifications against civilians, will push the burden of reparations 100 or even a thousand to one on the scale of justice in favor of Lebanese victims.
This summer, an opinion by the International Court of Justice found that Palestinian people deserve reparations for 57 years of Israeli occupation. However strong the pro-Israel political gale force is in so-called high-developed countries with moral compasses anchored in EU and UN declarations of the past 75 years, and however weak the actual moral authority of the UN has been revealed to be in the past year, it is necessary to start thinking about a universal damage registry for the purpose of reparation demands and accountability.    
Standing as a civilian in the bombed-out remnants of one’s home must count as one of the most tangible symbols of unjust victimization through the type of precision destruction that is by all evidence of September-October 2024 falsely described as minimizing civilian damages and despair.
While restitution and reconciliation over the incalculable cruelty meted out against Lebanese people by regional aerial superpower Israel must be assessed as a problem of future generations, real estate in this sense is literally more real and concrete as an argument for reparations, however politically uncertain and viciously opposed they are by culprits. But even if this cause of claiming reparations were to be taken up by global civil advocates and legal luminaries in the very hour of this writing, any recovery of physical compensation will be years and years away.    

Getting real quickly

In the short and real realm of housing needs, however, the attention is on the financing of affordable homes. This is the segment of the real estate market that had been kept somewhat buoyant – but artificially and perilously so – in the 2010s by the Banque du Liban (BDL)-issued “incentive packages” for the Lebanese economy.

The economic perilousness of the unsustainable interventions into the housing market brought supply of subsidized lending crashing down five years ago at the threshold of the current decade, after it had been driven up over roughly one-and-a-half decades by a combination of speculative demand and genuine need for starter homes.

Expressed in numbers of housing finance, mortgages reached $13 billion, serving 12,000 beneficiaries just prior to 2019. A significant portion of housing finance contracts included subsidized loans, including $1 billion for members of the Lebanese armed forces (LAF), $265 million for members of the Internal Security Forces, $95 million for members of the General Security, and $25 million for the judiciary.

Although housing needs of and finance arrangements available to young couples and growing families were faced with the shocking freeze of banking and crash of currency values in 2020 and the two years thereafter, the real estate story of the past four years has not been a simple one. 

According to Nassib Ghobril, the head of economic research at Byblos Bank Group, real estate was the first sector that benefited from the crisis because when the depositors discovered that they can’t transfer their deposits abroad, they transferred them out of the banks to the real estate sector in form of checks. “Companies and individuals were able to repay their dollar loans at a much lower value than they originally borrowed. This was a loss for both depositors and banks, as it contributed to the financial crisis.”

 But this opportunity did mean neither that genuine demand in the organically growing and socially value-adding market segment for working people’s home was met, nor that the man-made, minor catastrophe called urban planning was addressed.   

Whereas the void in urban planning has to be addressed in a broad societal development with insistence on sustainable real estate and communal coexistence paradigms (cf. comment piece), the collapse of the in the 2010’s thriving mortgage sector mandates a return of banking.

Ghobril emphasizes that the banking sector desperately needs to resume lending activities, “as loans have traditionally been a primary source of income for banks.” This revenue stream has been effectively cut off since 2019, severely impacting the sector’s financial health.

“The size of the loan portfolio was 58 billion dollars at the end of 2018 and today it is about 7 billion dollars or a little less,” Ghobril says. The decline is even more in foreign currency loans, with Ghobril noting that “loan portfolio in foreign currencies declined by $34.5 billion from the beginning of 2019 till the end of June this year.”

“Today, we hear companies saying they need banks to resume lending,” Ghobril says. However, he outlines three conditions for banks to restart this practice. First, banks must have sufficient liquidity to lend, which primarily comes from deposits and shareholder contributions. “Companies shouldn’t complain about banks not lending them money while also keeping their profits in safe boxes or foreign bank accounts. They should contribute to the economy by depositing their funds in Lebanese banks.”

Secondly, Ghobril argues, a law is necessary to guarantee that loans are repaid in the same currency they were originally given. “For example, if a bank lends fresh dollars, it should receive fresh dollars in return, not Lebanese pounds at the exchange rate or devalued checks.” Third, the importance of addressing a crucial question for Lebanon’s economic future: “What identity do we want for the Lebanese economy?”

In his view, one option is a liberal, free-market economy that is open to the world, particularly the Arab world. This model would prioritize the private sector and individual entrepreneurs, while the public sector would play a supportive role by creating a favorable investment climate and modernizing laws and institutions. The other option is an economy dominated by the public sector, characterized by efficient public services, tax evasion, open borders, and a large informal economy.

The return of housing loans

After a five-year hiatus, housing loans are making a comeback in Lebanon, offering a ray of hope to Lebanese youth who had almost abandoned their dreams of homeownership amidst the country’s economic crisis. On June 3, the Banque de l’Habitat began accepting applications for subsidized housing loans.

The new application process has moved online, replacing the old system of physical submissions at bank branches. Antoine Habib, CEO of the Banque de l’Habitat tells Executive in mid-September. “The enthusiasm is clearly there. Applications have exceeded our expectations. So far (September 19), 24,300 people have visited the platform,” he says while not specifying how many of these visitors submitted applications.

Habib states that this online platform aims to ensure a fair and transparent loan distribution process. “To prevent favoritism, this website is the answer. Anyone who meets the requirements will receive a loan. If someone wants to support specific individuals, they should do so with their own money, as the bank is not responsible for personal endorsements,” he elaborates.

Under the new scheme, households earning between $1,200 and $1,500 per month can apply for loans up to $40,000, while those with “average incomes” ($1,500 to $2,000) are eligible for up to $50,000. These loans come with a 20-year repayment term and a 6 percent interest rate.

The eligibility criteria are specific: the property must not exceed 150 square meters, applicants must not own another residence in Lebanon, and they should not have previously received a subsidized loan. The bank is also relaunching loans for improvements and restoration of old homes, with caps of $40,000 to $50,000.

Funding for these loans comes from a credit line of 50 million Kuwaiti dinars (approximately $163 million) obtained from the Arab Fund for Economic and Social Development. This agreement, signed in March 2019, but it faced delays due to the economic crisis and its aftermath.

Addressing concerns about the adequacy of the loan amounts, Habib acknowledges the limitations but emphasizes their potential impact: “If a Lebanese wants to buy a house in downtown Beirut, or in Tripoli Square, or in Bardouni in Zahle, the loan amount is certainly not enough, but if he wants to buy a house in the suburbs of Akkar, Sidon, or Zahle, the amount will be enough.”

You can’t buy a peace of land

Lebanon’s real estate sector defies predictions, with trends of growth and decline that do not always mimic the country’s broader economic and security shocks. While the market is heavily influenced by local and regional uncertainties, it also follows its own internal logic, driven by unique investor behaviors, foreign interest, and a historically durable expatriate demand.

While there are signs of resilience, such as the return of housing loans and the reopening of commercial centers, the sector faces significant obstacles. A comprehensive urban planning strategy is essential to guide development.

Real estate lending needs to resume more broadly, whether in form of purely commercial housing loans or through mortgage lending with support of subsidies and strict eligibility controls. Long-standing reform needs are still piling up, but now with the addition of war and disintegrating physical security as the most pressing challenge that impedes real estate and the right to shelter along with every aspect of civilian life – a challenge that stimulates Lebanese resilience and determination but can only be mitigated on the global stage.

Reporting by Rouba Bou Khzam was integral to this story.

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Real Estate

Inside Perspectives: Experts unpack Lebanon’s dynamic real estate market

by Rouba Bou Khzam
written by Rouba Bou Khzam

Israel’s long-prepared revenge strike against their arch-enemy Hezbollah under a pretext of securing the return of their internally displaced population to the northern holy land, long ago a peaceful area of coexistence of different Semite peoples, has violently intruded on Lebanon – and displaced multitudes – at a time when the country was emerging into new, people-led efforts of recouping the quality and dignity of life that had been eroded by the multi-tiered crises of 2019 to 2023. One aspect of this fervently thought recovery was the resurrection of the urban spaces and affordable housing. Here is what Executive learned about the prospects and developments in those livelihood markets just before the country was assaulted with the anti-peace, genocidal stamp of approval by Israel’s international supply chain of advanced weapons of “precision” destruction and indiscriminate death. 

Lebanon’s real estate and development sector has faced dramatic fluctuations, mirroring the country’s political, economic, and regional experience. From the boom periods that saw Beirut’s skyline transformed by luxury towers (a first post-conflict one in the 1990s, a distinctly different one from the mid-2000s up until 2011), to the deep troughs caused by global economic shifts and regional disunity in the 2010s, the ebb and flow of the market became exceedingly volatile in the late 2010s. Pockets of opportunity arose amidst stagnation. Starting with 2019, the property scene became even more complex, due to currency collapse and mass waves of both in and out migration.

And at time of this writing, the country is cursed with an intrusion of violence and war after a year of expanding conflict. While it is neither viable nor in the least predictable how the war economy will change the property market and real estate development sector in Lebanon, a wistful assessment of the nuanced forces that were shaping Lebanon’s real estate landscape in absence of enemy intrusions can still be obtained by looking at investor sentiment, currency shifts, and government policy in the first eight months of 2024.

Beirut’s downtown, once a center of commercial activity, entered the year with an overburden of obstacles to its economic vitality. “Downtown and all of Lebanon are oppressed. Those responsible have been busy for many years with political disputes and have not developed a new vision for the real estate market or urban planning,” says Walid Moussa, head of the syndicate of real estate brokers and consultants.

In the opinion of George Nour, founder and managing director of property consultancy Estate Solutions, the country’s political climate has indeed hindered development of high-profile areas in the urban core of Beirut, impacting both the capital and the nation.  “We were facing a stagnation situation in the real estate market even before the crisis in 2019,” Nour tells Executive. He points to two primary factors contributing to this long-standing stagnation: the chaotic urban development in Lebanon and the precarious financial situation.

Despite these challenges, the real estate professionals point to signs of potential change in both the commercial and residential markets with the emergence of new businesses and the recent reopening of housing loan applications, which signal a returning access to the financing of property purchases and development. This change may encourage both homeownership and new construction projects, potentially contributing to urban renewal in certain areas.

Going by the evidence of numbers

The real estate market in Lebanon has experienced a significant decline, with transaction numbers plummeting by 84.96 percent in 2023 compared to the previous year. Only 11,639 real estate purchase and sale transactions were recorded last year, versus 77,380 in 2022. However, these figures are not quite as devastating as they appear to be, mainly because public sector strikes led to the closure of the General Directorate of Land Registry and Cadastre, which caused a delay in registration of real estate transactions. Some of this backlog seemed to get addressed in the current year. However, the 16,390 real estate transactions registered in the first six months of 2024 according to the Ministry of Finance, was a number still significantly lower than the 39,921 transactions from the same period in 2022. Rather than bureaucratic bottlenecks, the waning of buyer interest in recent months was driven externally. “The summer of 2024 was particularly challenging, marked by fear and uncertainty. This atmosphere of instability significantly dampened investor enthusiasm for purchasing property,” Moussa emphasizes.

This downturn in the real estate sector is symptomatic of the broader challenges facing Lebanon’s economy. The country’s ongoing political crisis—the ongoing and escalating Israeli-Hezbollah conflict, delayed government formation, presidential vacuum, interim rulings, and public utility strikes—has greatly affected confidence in the real estate market. In particular, the ongoing war in southern Lebanon, now expanding into Beirut and beyond, creates an increasingly hostile security environment that discourages investments, especially in high-profile real estate projects.

Furthermore, although the real estate market has had periods of growth since the 2019 financial crisis, the protracted economic struggle still negatively impacts purchasing power, while housing loans are still edging back into the market. “Development for sale does not exist today because developers do not have the capital to build; [also] the buyer does not have enough money to buy, which indicates that financing is suspended from all sides,” says Moussa. In addition, “closing the doors of their loans and financing prevents [people] from obtaining prior approvals to develop their investments or buy an apartment.”

The inconsistent availability of real estate registration services, with the closure of real estate departments in Mount Lebanon and the intermittent opening of others, creates a bottleneck for potential buyers and sellers in the property market. This uncertainty prompts concerns about the security of property transactions and the ability to transfer ownership. “How can people confidently purchase a property if they cannot even register it or transfer ownership?” Moussa points out.

Urban development’s broken backbone

Lebanon’s urban development has long been characterized by a lack of comprehensive national planning. According to a 2018 UN-Habitat report, only 14 percent of Lebanese territory was covered by urban plans, leading to uncontrolled construction in some areas and underdevelopment in others. According to property consultant Nour, “all developers without any market survey, market research, nor market analysis, were jumping into doing new projects just because they saw that real estate in that time is the favorable business.”

According to him, the precarious state of Lebanon’s financial institutions is the second major hurdle for the real estate market. “The financial institutions were always ready to finance as much as the developer wanted in terms of providing cash, and also the buyer at that time had the chance to borrow from the bank,” Nour explains. This easy access to credit fueled a boom in real estate development, with Lebanon’s construction sector contributing significantly to the country’s GDP – reaching 13.1 percent in 2018, according to the World Bank. However, this growth came at a cost.

“The market was interactive, yet insufficient because at that time the banks were not really looking at how the developers were spending the money. There was no compliance, no anti-money laundering control, and nobody was asking about ‘know your client’,” claims Nour. A lack of due diligence and oversight created a perilous environment where financial risks could accumulate unchecked.

The absence of robust regulatory controls is particularly concerning given the scale of lending to the real estate sector. As of 2019, before the onset of the current crisis, real estate loans accounted for approximately 36 percent of total loans in Lebanon, as reported by the Association of Banks in Lebanon. This high concentration of lending in a single sector, combined with lax oversight, left the banking system vulnerable to shocks in the real estate market.

Rotten roots

Nassib Ghobril, the chief economist at Byblos Bank Group, tells Executive that “even before the crisis, there were significant issues with the investment climate and business environment in Lebanon,” echoing Nour’s sentiment that problems have been brewing for some time.

The severity of these issues was already before the financial crisis of 2019 underscored by the country’s dismal rankings on the quality of its business environment. Ghobril adds, “According to the last business environment index issued by the World Bank in 2018, it was found that 75 percent of the world’s countries and 65 percent of Arab countries have a better business environment than Lebanon.”

The Lebanese economy has been hindered by the absence of comprehensive reforms, a lack of action that has damaged investor confidence and economic stability. The shortage of reliable economic data has long been a stumbling block for Lebanon’s economic progress. This persistent issue has made it challenging to accurately gauge the country’s economic health and has deterred potential investors from making informed decisions. Ghobril says that “more data” is needed, and notes that “the recent Fitch Ratings update and S&P report highlight the continuing struggle with data availability and transparency, issues that have long affected Lebanon’s standing with international rating agencies.”

Commercial comebacks and residential roadblocks

While new real estate development projects in downtown Beirut have been at a standstill, the area is experiencing a surprising surge in commercial activity. “There are no new real estate projects in downtown this year,” says Moussa, “however, we’re observing a lot of commercial movement and increased pressure in commercial real estate.” The prices, as Moussa indicates, are approaching levels seen before the crisis.

A cornerstone of this commercial resurgence is the reopening of Beirut Souks, a key shopping center in downtown Beirut, which announced on a June 26th Instagram post that more than 100 stores will soon be open, including Nike, Zara, Bershka, Stradivarius, Virgin, Etam, L’Occitane en Provence, Mouftah El Chark, among others. “The Azadea Group, a leading lifestyle regional retail company that owns some of the brands, will take off in Beirut Souks at the end of this year,” knows Moussa.

Beirut Souks, managed by Solidere, first opened in 2009 after a 10-year delay and $100 million expenditure. The massive complex, which sits on the site of Beirut’s original traditional souks, has been plagued by the same series of unfortunate events over the past years, including the 2019 economic crisis, the Covid pandemic, and the port explosion, which heavily damaged its stores and led it to fall into disarray.

Outside of the luxury retail niche and the commercial sector, the residential real estate market tells a different story. “The real estate sector is still in intensive care, in the absence of financial funding for real estate projects, which is the main nerve for developing the sector. While the majority of projects that are being implemented are self-financed to meet a personal need,” says Nour.

Despite these challenges, demand for real estate persists, particularly in Greater Beirut and coastal areas. Nour points out, “To meet the needs of natural population growth (Lebanese only), we must have an annual increase of 4 percent in residential apartments.” This demand has been further intensified by the displacement of over 100,000 citizens from southern Lebanon due to the ongoing Israel-Hezbollah conflict, leading to increased rental prices in some areas.

In the residential segment, rentals dominate the market as many Lebanese struggle to afford property purchases. Commercial real estate also sees merchants favoring rental arrangements over property ownership. Nour explains, “The merchant prefers to rent instead of buying because he considers the rent as part of the operating cost that provides him with the return on the sale.” This flexibility allows businesses to adapt quickly to changing market conditions.

Price trends vary across regions, with apartments in areas like Baabda, Hazmieh, and Beirut’s suburbs ranging from $150,000 to $300,000. Investor expectations have adjusted, with acceptable profit margins now around 6 percent, a significant drop from pre-crisis levels.

Expatriates and foreign citizens are finding opportunities in the current market. Nour observes, “Expatriates have a good opportunity to buy real estate, especially those who have cash, as they can buy real estate at reduced prices.” In the land market, sellers are often motivated by immediate financial needs and buyers looking to convert cash into tangible assets.

Unsettled ground

While the health of Lebanon’s real estate market has not always mimicked larger economic trends in the country, developers and stakeholders are now besieged with the upheaval of war. The country is in many ways, shaken and turned on its head, with large segments of the population displaced from the south, the Bekaa, and Beirut, and pushed into Mount, Lebanon, Metn, Kesserwan, and elsewhere. In the short term, stagnation or contraction in the market can be expected, with recovery dependent on broader political and security improvements.

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Q&AQ&AQ&A

Food security in times of war

by Thomas Schellen & Sherine Najdi
written by Thomas Schellen & Sherine Najdi

In this interview with Atef Idriss, CEO of MENA Food Safety Associates (MEFOSA), the Executive Magazine addresses issues related to food security in Lebanon given the current ongoing war.  Moreover, several topics are explored: shortages in supply, the effect on the supply chain, the quality of the produce, the price change in available produce, and the availability of products in general. As such, On October 9.2024, Mr Idriss gives some insights regarding this matter, tapping into some core issues in the agriculture and industrial sectors in Lebanon.

Executive: What can you tell us about the current struggles of producers, such as farmers, and suppliers in the food chain? How is Lebanon’s food security situation in the context of the ongoing war against the country and also the border conflicts of the year October 2023?

Idriss: Food security is a complicated issue because it needs to define not only availability but also quality and related issues about nutritious content. When you take the broader definition of food security, the extent of disruption [by the war and preceding conflict] hit not only the supply chain but also the value chain. The value chain is disrupted when you cannot feed an infant the right infant formula, or when you cannot provide the right fortified food to an elderly person.

But of course, we realize that [the problem of food security] has been growing. Ultimately, we have reached a stage where even availability is sometimes amiss. People are displaced. They can’t find what they want from the place they used to buy. But Lebanon has a free economy. Our imports have been sustained despite all the unrest. The infrastructure is availing. And the supply chains, even the industrial supply chains, have been maintained. And because of the economic conditions, many new companies, and new producers entered the market. And they’re keeping up with the right support and delivery.

Executive: Did you observe that the retail outlets had bottlenecks?

Idriss: Yes, We couldn’t find several of the items that were imported or even that were produced regularly. At one point, we couldn’t even find our bread. The retail outlet [in this building in Hamra] has doubled or tripled its daily sales because of the people that flocked to Ras Beirut.

Executive: Is this shortage only because the supermarket operators did not anticipate this high demand? So would they be able to supply enough for the demand at some point?

Idriss: Consumption changes at times of war. So sometimes you need to better ascertain your client needs and the ability to avail. That is not easily done. [For example] many people are consuming much more bread, staple foods, and canned foods because of the conditions [they have to live under]. The retailers are trying to better ascertain what is needed.

Executive: Will this shortage be covered by more imports or will the local supply be enough?

Idriss: Producers can supply [for the changing demand] but they require raw material, and also other things such as packaging. If the required [inputs] are available, the adjustments are usually taking place. But the supply chain acts with a delay. So it’s very good that supplies are coming in from donor countries. These support the requirements of the Lebanese people and supply rations that are integrated and well-needed.

Executive: Do you see the prices being affected?

Idriss: Some of the prices are indeed affected. The effect may be related to longer supply chains or more costly supply chains because of the war. [Other impacts arise] because [agro-food manufacturers] are not able to run efficiently because of shorter operating times and production cycles in the industry. Or longer delays in the port. The syndicate of importers has recently been engaging the Ministry of Economy and the Ministry of Finance to speed up testing so that more supplies are delivered in time.

Executive: From a producer or farmer’s point of view, will they be able to satisfy this demand or will we be relying heavily on imports?

Idriss: The agriculture in the country should be able to address market needs. But tremendous shortages are resulting from what you are witnessing in the south [of Lebanon] where the hostilities are cutting production out of the agricultural supply chain. On top of that, [the Israeli aggressors] are using different corrosive chemicals that are very bad for agriculture, for the land and even for the farmers and rural inhabitants. 

Executive: If the war ends tomorrow, how long will it take the industry to recover from all aspects, price, quality, and security?

Idriss: The agricultural exporters are facing all kinds of problems even from the times before the war. Many of our markets have been lost because of different issues. The Gulf states have been demanding much more quality focus and better compliance with international standards. We opened markets such as Iraq but then roads have been bombed again. Our exports to the EU have been also challenged because of the inability of some of the labs to deliver on the specifics of sanitary and phytosanitary requirements and issues known as technical barriers to trade (TBT).

Such requirements need to be addressed, many involving [standards] and laboratory testing. We’ve claimed this on the Ministry of Agriculture repeatedly even before the current hostilities started. We just came yesterday from Tripoli and alhamdulillah at least the Chamber of Commerce of Tripoli laboratory is still operating. Several tests that have not been conducted in Beirut labs are being transferred to the lab in Tripoli and this facilitated many of the requirements.

Executive: From what you say, the systemic problems and structural problems of our agri-food value and supply chain are still the same but now the conflict element adds another dimension to that. Correct?

Idriss: Yes. The creation of the Kfarshima Lab was very important to help the producers, the agricultural producers better contain the testing and better address their testing. In our visit to Tripoli yesterday, the lab at the Chamber of Commerce has doubled and tripled its services.

They’re providing other new services for testing GMOs. They’re providing new services for testing pesticide residues. So there are advances at different levels, not only in certifying imports but also in developing a culture conducive to production and to meeting the demands of the market that are changing as a result of war or as a result of problems related to the port of Beirut [explosion of 2020 and the destruction of grain storage silos at the port]. There is a big facility in the Bekaa where they’re storing 50,000 tons of wheat.

Executive: So they are now stored in the Bekaa? And this will still happen even if the war continues?

Idriss: Taking possession of the grains from the farmers on time is very important. Storing it in dry, good places is also important.

But if the war will affect the storage capacity or the storage security, the different current partners [involved in grain storage in the Bekaa] are not addressing strategic stocks. [However],there are several ways to store the pulses or the wheat with the farmers themselves. And there are different ways where you can make land silos at the farm level. But the important thing is to take possession of the wheat and to get the farmer paid.

Executive: We are in the middle of October. So far, we are facing food security challenges, but the Lebanese are adjusting. But what if the war continues?

Idriss: If the war lingers on another two months or four months, disruptions will not only continue.  Disruptions will exacerbate because it’s not only the availability of raw materials or ingredients but also the availability of packaging material.

If the ports are open, then you could supply imported products.  But if the ports close, the supply chain is not conducive anymore.

Executive: Are there any ongoing initiatives by MEFOSA regarding any of the issues that you mentioned?

Idriss: Yes. We have several initiatives particularly due to the conditions, currently, we’re supporting all the displaced people and better addressing the hygiene of the food supply chain and particularly of the makeshift catering facilities. Some of the people who are servicing there need support, need a better understanding of what it takes and how it takes to cook daily meals. There are problems with hygiene in the shelters. So we’re supporting these localities with our technologies and our team is going down helping them ascertain the hygiene of the water and the quality of the water.

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Economic rescueEconomics & PolicyRefugee CrisisRefugees

Coastal Complicity and Tides of Resistance:

by Roula el khoury & Leyla el sayed hussein
written by Roula el khoury & Leyla el sayed hussein

Authors’ disclaimer: Executive issued the invitation for this expert contribution on the publicness of coastal spaces one month before the expansion of the Israeli war on Lebanon in September 2024. We, the authors, completed the contribution at the highly troubled time when a maritime blockade by Israeli warships became a threat against Lebanese coast from the southern shoreline to points in Beirut and further north. In this sense, we are now confronted with the new, conflicted image of the sea – the hostile staging ground for Israeli battleships – and the coast that serves as refuge for thousands of people who are sheltering on the scarce public space of Beirut’s urban shore after they have fled from their homes.   

As one of the last bastions of public space along Beirut’s coastline, the corniche of Ein el Mrayseh stands as a vital outlet for diverse communities in a city increasingly defined by economic speculation, political polarization and sectarian divides. The shoreline underwent several interventions beginning from the visioning of the infrastructural work of the avenue des francais to the more recent and ongoing private businesses and resorts (refer to figure 1 for details about the dates disrupting the continuous shoreline promenade and creating portions of exclusivity). These hegemonic violations of the public space, whether by urban policies, private resorts or infrastructural expansions, triggered individual and collective interventions among the users.

Users interventions on public spaces is part of a common practice of appropriating the city. Our recent observations of such interventions on Corniche Ein el Mraysseh are in line with these   practices aiming towards more accessibility to the sea, or creating more collective spaces. In some examples, static urban furniture is intervened on – such as removing one section of the balustrade to allow easy access to the sea rocks, becoming more transformable and accessible to the public. We reflect on these observations, shedding light on some stories currently happening at the corniche, under a complex relation between the users, the Beirut municipality, the reality of the space itself, and unfortunately, the ongoing Israel war on Lebanon.

Extending on a level stretch of urban seashore over nearly four kilometres from the Saint George Hotel, at the edge of Solidere on the east, to the Sporting beach club on the west, this coastal promenade is more than just a walkway; it is a vibrant tapestry reflecting the multiple spatial layers and modifications that the area underwent. Four distinguishable elements constitute the essence of this stretch: first and foremost, the Mediterranean Sea, what remains of the rocky landscape, the continuous sidewalk overlooking the water and finally, the coastal vehicular road that was built over several phases. Yet, the encroachment of high-end resorts and private developments threatens the natural unity of this rocky shoreline and accessibility to the water. The original essence of the Corniche as a public outlet for all residents, has long been struggling with punctual interventions and private interests. The Beirut shoreline, once a continuous and seamless public domain, grapples with fragmentation that challenges its’ essence.

The recurrent violations of the public domain along the shoreline have systematically divided the stretch into distinct sections connected by the pedestrian walkway, each with its own characteristics and particularities. Resorts equipped with jetties and private marinas, cafes and restaurants create isolated, separated environments that seem to turn their backs to the public promenade of the Corniche. This segmentation perpetuates a divide between affluent clientele and the general public, imposing entrance fees that cultivate an atmosphere of exclusivity. As private entities stake their claims, the public’s right to the coastline is increasingly challenged, leading to a loss of the shared experience that has historically defined the Corniche.

A reclaiming of public water


Amidst this encroachment, a quiet revolution unfolds. The Corniche remains a crucial site for collective expression and connection, where individuals reclaim their innate relationship with the water, which has been written and philosophized about for nearly all of human existence. In the liminal spaces between resorts, spontaneous gatherings and impromptu performances emerge. Balustrades and shading devices have in some cases become pathways to the sea, as people remove segments of railing or tie ropes around them to gain access. These acts of defiance transform static modules into dynamic forms of soft modularity, reflecting a collective desire to meld the constructed environment with the natural landscape.

These interventions are not merely physical alterations; they embody a deeper yearning for connection and inclusivity. Each gesture—whether removing a balustrade segment or creating makeshift pathways—speaks to a communal aspiration to reclaim the coastline. As users adapt the space to their needs, they breathe new life into the Corniche, allowing it to evolve alongside the city’s changing rhythms.

At the heart of this reclaiming spirit is a dedicated group of early morning swimmers led by Abu Reda, a daily visitor, who cares for the stretch between the Riviera and the fisherman port.

Figure 1 _ Evolution of violations into the sea. Source of diagrams: Authors. Google Earth 2011.

Rising with the sun, they swim in the Mediterranean waters, clean the beach, and construct makeshift seating areas from pebbles and driftwood. These soft interventions enhance a feeling of responsibility and informal ownership. Their daily routines set a welcoming tone for others to engage with the shoreline. The beach transforms into a lively gathering point, where individuals come together to share stories, laughter, and a sense of belonging. The act of cleaning has become a collective ritual, fostering a growing sense of informal ownership and pride among users. The playful interactions of these early birds breathe life into the space, as they craft seating areas and temporary structures that encourage lingering. The shoreline, once dominated by rigid structures, becomes a canvas for human expression. Children splash in the shallows, couples find quiet corners for intimate conversations, and the beach buzzes with activity, a testament to the resilience of community spirit in the face of privatization. In these moments, the Corniche emerges not just as a physical space but as a rich mosaic of collective memories.

Despite sporadic governmental attempts to exert controlover these practices,  such as wiping out the temporary seating places and flattening the pebbled beach, the relationship between community efforts and authorities remains complex. While Abu Reda and his friends strive to create an inviting atmosphere, they occasionally encounter confrontation from municipal authorities concerned about the informal nature of their activities. This dynamic underscores a broader narrative of governance in Beirut, where local actors assert their rights to public space while navigating the challenges of a city crippled by an economic crisis that has eroded the livelihoods of its citizens and where public spaces that should serve as gathering points are de-prioritized and fall into neglect.

But daily users like Abu Reda are now joined by much larger groups. The city, still reeling from the aftermath of the economic crisis, now grapples with the heavy weight of displacement and despair. As hundreds of thousands of Lebanese families flee the Israeli hostilities, many find themselves seeking refuge in public spaces that were once meant for communal enjoyment. As of this writing, the Ein el Mrayseh Corniche is now one of the most crucial public spaces in the city, as it has become a makeshift home for the displaced.

A new microcosm of precarity, fears, solidarity, determined normalcy, and hope

Over a span of two weeks, the Corniche and waterfront area have filled with families who cannot afford rent or find accommodation elsewhere. Some spend the nights in their cars, roaming the city in search of safe parking spots, while others sleep on the ground or in tents.


Despite the compassion shown by fellow citizens, various associations, and political groups attempting to offer support, a climate of fear and prejudice has also emerged. oncerns that the growing tension over property and resources may escalate into community conflict.

Yet, amid this precarity, Corniche Ein el Mrayseh has become a fragile sanctuary for the displaced, where the weight of grief and fear hangs heavy in the air. Families fleeing the bombs, many having lost loved ones, gather along this coastal stretch, seeking refuge by the sea, a space that feels conceptually accessible yet starkly distant from the homes they’ve been forced to abandon. The Corniche, marked by the presence of vendors catering to urgent needs – offering food and supplies for children – mirrors the desperation of a community in crisis. Amid this sombre atmosphere, colorful balloons lit at night provide children with fleeting moments of distraction.

Also at night, the threat of bombings has given way to a new routine. As midnight approaches, the spokesperson of the Israel Defence Forces addresses Lebanese residents in the form of a videos or statements that circulate on social media, telling them that their neighborhoods will soon be bombed—sometimes in as little as fifteen minutes after these statements are released—causing residents to flee quickly en masse. They gather at the Corniche for late-night commisserations, exchanging coffee, notes, and stories of loss and fear. During every night since the start of Israel’s violent aggression against Lebanon without any sincere concerns for basic human civility, a new wave of forced migration thus substantiates the new utility of the Corniche as a refuge, where people connect and find solace amid uncertainty. After the raids subside, those who are able return home to assess the damage and try to catch some sleep before facing the next day. This phenomenon highlights the evolving nature of life along the Corniche, where the nightlife has become a response to the ongoing conflict, reflecting both fear and a collective effort to reclaim a sense of normalcy.

This public space, while devoid of a true sense of belonging offer a semblance of safety. As such the Corniche stands today as a testament to solidarity, a place where countless stories of journeys from all over the country intertwine. As we navigate the complexities of this evolving crisis, we are struck by the forced resilience of the people of Beirut.  In this evolving crisis, the heart-wrenching reality remains: our citizens are being bombarded by circumstances beyond their control, forced to confront the harsh reality of homelessness in the very spaces meant for connection and belonging. The struggle for dignity and the fight for public space continue, even as the city grapples with the weight of its new reality.

The Corniche stands today as a poignant reminder of the struggle for public space in a city long captured by elite interests and profit seeking. It remains a space where the spirit of the people rises against the tide, reclaiming a fundamental right to the water that transcends the boundaries imposed by towering developments.


 Looking ahead, the community-led initiatives along the Corniche should not be viewed as mere temporary fixes. They represent a vision for a more inclusive and vibrant public space capable of thriving amidst the city’s challenges. Proposing formal urban policies that recognize and encourage these informal partnerships can facilitate a more harmonious coexistence between private developments and public access.

Such policies could empower residents, allowing them to actively participate in the planning processes that shape their environment. By integrating community efforts into comprehensive urban policies, Beirut can transform its public spaces into dynamic areas that reflect the active participation of its citizens in shaping the city’s future.

In a time of escalating tensions and ongoing displacement, the Corniche Ein el Mrayseh emerges not only as a physical space but as a vital symbol of resilience and resistance. It illustrates how, against all odds, communities can reclaim their right to public spaces and create a more equitable urban future in Beirut. Maybe, an urban future that can draw lessons from public interventions that defy top-down hegemonic policies. Observing such soft interventions by users, who found a safe scape next to the sea, is a crucial step towards a more participatory urban approach.

[1] For more details about this topic, please refer to the article by the Authors “Rigid and Soft modularity: the case of a Beiruti shoreline” published in June 2024 in Vitruvio International Journal of Architectural Technology and Sustainability

[2] Solidere, is a private company responsible for reconstructing the Beirut Central District following the end of the Lebanese Civil War, 1990. As a convention, Solidere’s nomenclature now refers to an area covering Downtown Beirut where the company intervened.

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AnalysisHospitality & TourismTourism Lebanon

Lebanon’s hospitality sector: resilience amid uncertainty

by Rouba Bou Khzam
written by Rouba Bou Khzam

Problems of overtourism this year have shaken several high-profile destinations around the Mediterranean basin – long the world’s most tourism-intense area. Protests against urban overcrowding with under-regulated short-term accommodation models in Barcelona have made global headlines. In Spain, Italy, (two of the top ten global rankers by international tourist arrivals) and other Mediterranean countries that attract holiday makers by the mega-millions, administrations have been introducing laws and regulations attempting to control the so-called Airbnb market as well as daily visitor flows to tourism hotspots more effectively.

In this fine summer, however, overtourism and protests against it, makes for one problem that Lebanon doesn’t have. Instead, the summer of ‘24 appears ripe for the record books as having witnessed the most twisted tourism sector fortunes and shakeups during a single key season. The reason for the hospitality sector’s economically harmful rollercoaster is the changing perceptions of war risk and outbursts of panic fueled by belligerent posturing and recent deeds of infamy.

Cross-border conflict in the south and parts of the Bekaa has been heating up and slowly expanding after somewhat controlled (by “rules of engagement”) but not nationally controllable altercations between Hezbollah and Israeli forces erupted in October of last year. For several months, however, well into the spring of 2024, local tourism appeared relatively unfazed by this conflict risk and waves of hasty travel warnings by, supposedly friendly, international powers.

Whereas the first quarter of 2024 according to the Ministry of Tourism saw a very significant 13.52 percent year-on-year decline to 237,633 visitor arrivals, down from 274,787 in the same period of 2023, many leaders in the hospitality sector were not all too worried. The size of the drop was sharp but not catastrophic. Furthermore, low hotel visitor numbers are not unusual during the January to March or even April period (in 2023 against 2022 Jan-Apr hotel occupancy rates, for example) and can still be followed by a very good summer.

Cynthia Flouty, the Director of Sales and Marketing at the Phoenicia Intercontinental Hotel in Beirut says that first-quarter data is not necessarily a strong indicator of annual tourism performance. “While the Q1 numbers are concerning, they don’t tell the whole story,” she explains. “Lebanon’s tourism sector is heavily seasonal, with the summer months typically drawing a significant majority of the annual visitors. First-quarter figures, therefore, often paint an incomplete picture of the year’s overall performance.”

However, Flouty acknowledges the obvious problem. The shockwaves from the ongoing war in Gaza and the subsequent conflict between Israel and Hezbollah did eventually reach the hospitality industry. “Many countries urge their citizens not to travel to Lebanon due to high risks of armed conflict,” she notes, referencing travel warnings issued by numerous foreign embassies.

As summer arrived with its swell of visitors, numbers rose to 411,320 in July 2024. However, these numbers, combined with the previous months and based on a dwindling outlook for the rest of the year, don’t appear to be on track of matching 2023’s recorded total of 4,109,962 visitors. “This summer compared to 2023 is not good,” says Flouty. “All these numbers are Lebanese expatriates who have their homes and families here, not foreigners and Arab tourists.” And even Lebanese expats are less inclined to come at all, or choose to curtail a lengthier stay due to both safety concerns and security-related flight cancellations.

The volatility of developments in Lebanon and the region have also created moments of panic linked to cancelled flights. For example, during one particularly tense week marked by attempted ceasefire negotiations and an anticipated retaliation from Hezbollah and Iran after Israel’s assassination of Fouad Shukur in Beirut and Ismail Haniyeh in Tehran, LBCI reported a decrease in arriving passengers at Rafik Hariri International Airport from 12,964 on August 15, 2023, to 8,136 on the same day in 2024.

“This summer has been particularly difficult for us compared to 2023. We’ve seen a dramatic 50 percent drop in reservations year-over-year. Traditionally, our clientele has been quite diverse, drawing tourists from Europe, Latin America, and Arab countries like Qatar, Kuwait, Egypt, and Iraq. However, recent geopolitical events have severely disrupted this pattern,” says Flouty, adding that the hotel experienced an immediate double blow to bookings as travelers from Europe and North America “scrapped their trips due to the situation in Gaza, while many of our Arab guests were forced to cancel because of airline suspensions.”

Perils of an inhospitable political and security climate

The summer of ’24 may be the wildest rodeo in the history of inbound tourism, but it is by far not the first time that the sector has suffered disruption. Constituting a vital sector in Lebanon’s services economy, tourism has experienced dramatic ups and downs over the past two decades, mirroring both the international as well as regional political climate and the country’s unstable economy.

In the early 2000s, tourism struggled to gain traction following the civil war years, underperforming compared to other economic sectors, contributing around 10 percent to GDP. However, the industry saw a remarkable turnaround between 2005 and 2008, with tourist arrivals increasing from 1.14 million in 2005 to 1.33 million in 2008, a 16.7 percent rise. During this period, tourism outpaced overall economic growth, becoming a significant contributor to the country’s GDP, reaching up to 20 percent by 2008. The influx of tourists, particularly from Gulf countries, drove up prices in restaurants, hotels, and real estate, making tourism an inflation driver.

Broader economic challenges, however, emerged between 2009 and 2011. The sector then faced a dramatic downturn with the onset of the Arab Spring in 2011, as regional instability deterred visitors and disrupted travel patterns. Tourist arrivals plummeted by 23.7 percent in 2011 compared to the previous year, dropping from 2.17 million in 2010 to 1.66 million in 2011.

Since then, Lebanon’s tourism industry has struggled to regain its footing, buffeted by ongoing regional conflicts, domestic political instability, and global economic uncertainties. Despite occasional rebounds, such as the 11 percent increase in arrivals in 2017, reaching 1.86 million visitors, the sector has struggled to regain its pre-crisis levels. By 2019, however, tourism accounted for approximately 18 percent of Lebanon’s GDP. This performance helped elevating Lebanon’s international tourism revenue as percent of GDP to 7.47 percent over the entire 1995-2020 period, representing a very respectable 13th rank of in an analysis of the World Tourism Organization.

This performance, however, was followed by the crash induced by the COVID-19 pandemic, which saw hotels lay off people by the thousands and restaurants close their doors by the hundreds. Despite the trough of 2020 and 21, the years 2022 and 23 saw new initiatives in niches like guesthouses with personal-professional flair and expansion of the Lebanese Airbnb market. Still, the data of the current year suggest that the challenges for the tourism and hospitality sector will persist until the regional situation takes a massive turn to the better.

Short-term rentals and long-term problems

The short-term vacation rental market was a hospitality segment that had seen significant growth up to this summer. According to some reports from the middle of this year, the number of rental offerings grew by 3,000, over 55 percent of the then existing supply, between May 2022 and May 2024.

Platforms like Airbnb have gained traction, offering visitors more diverse and often more affordable accommodation options compared to traditional hotels. Samer Helou, an Airbnb host and property manager tells Executive about his trajectory on the popular platform. “I started in summer 2020 when my cousin gave me the opportunity to manage his apartment in Beirut on Airbnb. Now, I have my own page on Instagram and Facebook, where I promote a portfolio of 25 to 30 properties.” These include apartments in various Lebanese locations such as Beirut, Jbeil, Batroun, Faqra, and Bikfaiya, as well as international offerings like a private villa in Greece and an apartment in Cyprus.

However, he notes that the Airbnb model, which has been under fire from locals of various cities around the world, faces its own unique cultural and practical hurdles in Lebanon.

According to Helou, “the Airbnb platform works better abroad than in Lebanon.” He says that “Lebanese customers have a different mindset. They prefer to communicate directly with the owner or manager rather than booking online.” This preference for personal interaction extends to financial considerations as well. Helou points out that many local clients are reluctant to pay the additional 15 percent guest service charge imposed by Airbnb.

Moreover, he highlights a crucial practical obstacle: “Not all Lebanese have fresh dollar cards to pay online; many prefer cash transactions.” This lack of access to international payment methods, a direct consequence of the country’s ongoing economic crisis and banking restrictions, further complicates the use of global booking platforms like Airbnb in the Lebanese market.

Some Lebanese opportunists are seeking to capitalize on Lebanese guests’ preference for personal interaction and cash payments. Nagi El Husseini launched LBnB in June 2021, a platform specifically tailored to the Lebanese market. LBnB is not licensed by the Ministry of Tourism but is registered as a company and trademark at the Federation of Chambers of Commerce, Industry and Agriculture since 2001. The venture is personally funded by El Husseini. “Because of the financial crisis, people couldn’t use Airbnb anymore, so we created a Lebanese Airbnb where everything is in Lebanese pounds.” According to him, “We’re not competing with Airbnb. We’re complementing it and trying to fill the gaps in the market.”

El Husseini’s initiative aimed to promote domestic travel and bypass foreign currency restrictions imposed by banks, bypassing stringent foreign currency controls by allowing users to book accommodations and experiences using the rapidly depreciating Lebanese Pound. In its initial two months, LBnB garnered significant attention, attracting 10,000 users. However, technical shortcomings hindered LBnB’s ability to handle the demand. “We rushed the module, and it couldn’t handle the massive influx of users,” El Husseini tells Executive. Consequently, the platform was forced to shut down by the end of summer 2022.

Misfortunes never come singly

As Lebanon’s economic crisis deepened and the country transitioned to a dollarized economy, the initial impetus for LBnB waned. “The shift to a dollarized economy changed the game,” says El Husseini. “The original problem we were trying to solve was no longer as pressing, everyone is paying in dollar without any problem so we realized we needed to evolve LBnB’s concept.” LBnB is now poised for a global relaunch in 2025, offering a wider range of services to compete on an international stage.

Besides the financial calamities and economic woes that were turned by the ever-enterprising Lebanese minds into innovative business concepts, the short-term rental market has not been impervious to the conflict-induced drop in visitor confidence. As one example, Helou recounts that “a Lebanese lady living abroad had planned to rent a furnished Beirut apartment from January 2024 till January 2025 for a project she wanted to work on in Lebanon. But on the third week of October, after the war in Gaza started, she sent me an email canceling her reservation.”

Trip cancellations and hesitation among potential visitors, particularly from abroad, worsened in July and August following embassy warnings. The impact extends beyond Beirut to other popular tourist areas. Maguy Ghorayeb, owner of Beit El Deir, a private villa in Deir el Qamar in the Chouf region, notes that “in October, there weren’t many bookings because people were afraid to come from the Damour road due to what’s happening in the South. They preferred renting places in the Keserwan district instead.”

The suffering of MICE

While Airbnb operators glean profitability from high sensitivity to cost-benefit ratios, the impact of the latest crisis on the market for meetings, incentives, conferences, and events (MICE) is severe. The hotels catering to business travelers, face crippling challenges.

 “For Phoenicia Hotel, our core market is business, not tourism. There are only three or four months for tourism, and the other eight to nine months are for business. This year, we didn’t have conferences, congresses, or exhibitions. They were all moved to other countries due to instability in Lebanon,” Flouty explains. “Rebuilding MICE tourism will require not only an improvement in the regional security situation but also a concerted effort to rebrand Lebanon as a safe and attractive destination for business events.”

On the whole, the troubles of 2024 appear set to write forth a demographic trend wherein the majority of visitors to the country are Lebanese expats.  For the past three decades, Lebanese expatriates have consistently formed a significant portion of inbound tourists and there is no end in sight to the diaspora’s love and affection for Lebanon.  Many expatriates actually appear to be actively increasing connections with their homeland, regularly visiting to nurture familial ties and cultural roots despite the ongoing difficulties that deter international and regional visitors.

Flouty notes that “While they [visiting Lebanese from abroad] do contribute to the local economy, they don’t necessarily book hotel rooms. Many stay with family or in their own properties, directly impacting our occupancy rates.” It seems then that the attachment to family, rather than the growth in the number of short-term vacation rentals, is a major shaper of visitor behavior. Moreover, regardless of their disruptive impact on economic models and the inflationary pressures that accompany all tourism, the vital direct diaspora inputs to national GDP look like some of the most bankable and reliable variables for the hospitality sector in coming years.

Established patterns and emerging trends in the sector

While hotels may suffer, innovative guest houses and individual operators, especially those located away from conflict-threatened areas, are benefitting a clientele base composed primarily of both Lebanese expats and locals. “While we’ve definitely seen a drop in international bookings, we’ve noticed an uptick in local Lebanese seeking staycations,” Ghorayeb says. “Our villa is even hosting families from Beirut looking for a temporary escape from the city.”

Since around 2020, a new trend has emerged in Lebanon’s real estate market, spanning from the bustling streets of Beirut to serene mountain towns. Property owners are capitalizing on the country’s vibrant social scene and the growing demand for unique event spaces by repurposing their homes, terraces, and private pools to host weddings, engagements, and birthday celebrations.

“Over the past two years, we’ve witnessed a 50 percent surge in requests for unique, intimate venues,” Helou reports. “Interestingly, the demand is almost equally split between urban and rural settings. In Beirut, clients are drawn to the urban chic aesthetic, while mountain locations appeal to those seeking the allure of nature and traditional Lebanese architecture.”

Ghorayeb has sought to use her villa to capitalize on this new demand. “Last summer, we could accommodate small weddings of up to 120 guests. With our recent expansions, including a new pool and additional space, we were able this summer to host events for up to 180 people,” she says. “We’re also exploring the possibility of hosting concerts,” she adds, “as part of our strategy to position the villa as a premier entertainment destination in the region.”

As the landscape of Lebanese hospitality offerings is becoming crowded with new entrants, new spaces for collaboration are opening up. Hotels are increasingly recognizing the potential benefits of partnering with online platforms, causing El Husseini to take note. “Our platform will have a section for hotels who are interested to be on such platforms where they receive more bookings,” he says.

Although the potential for these mutually beneficial partnerships does exist in an industry that continues to adapt to changing market dynamics, Flouty sees limitations related to the need of Lebanon’s hospitality industry of adopting global brand standards as well as local market demands. She notes that local and non-chain hotels are the most likely to engage with domestic platforms. “As an international chain hotel, Phoenicia Intercontinental operates under specific guidelines and booking systems,” she says.

Innovative responses in the F&B Sector

President of the Syndicate of Restaurants, Cafes, Night-clubs, and Pastries, Tony Ramy, speaking at the HORECA Expo in Beirut—a networking platform for professionals in the hospitality industry—in April 2024, announced that approximately 330 new restaurants opened in Lebanon during 2023.

Odette’s Mexican Taqueria in Achrafieh, founded by Ziad Ghorly, is an example of how certain venues are flourishing despite the country’s volatility. “I opened my restaurant in June 2023 and although there is a lack of the government infrastructure, it is a personal initiative,” Ghorly says. “In this country we must take risks and not wait for the perfect time because there is no perfect time. I see F&B as one of the sectors that are working in Lebanon. Lebanese people love to go out to eat and try new things; for them, this is a way of stress relief.”

Since opening, Ghorly has already expanded to include an upper floor in 2024. He notes a significant shift in his customer base over the past year: “Last summer was better than this summer, where we received foreign customers who used to rent Airbnbs in Achrafieh or nearby. But this summer there were only local Lebanese or expatriates.”

Despite this change, business remains steady. “It was a busy summer for our restaurant, we are fully booked each day,” Ghorly reports. Lebanon is known for its ability to hold contradictions: even when war dominates the headlines, the atmosphere in Beirut can feel relatively normal, if interspersed sporadically by the disturbing sounds of sonic booms from Israeli warplanes above. “The situation in the south didn’t affect the flow of customers,” Ghorly says, adding, “When Israel hit Dahieh, two tables canceled their reservation, but the day after I was fully booked. This is an example that Lebanese people want to live no matter what.”

While international visitors bring in much-needed foreign currency, the rise in domestic tourism and creative repurposing of spaces for events showcase the industry’s adaptability and potential for growth. The tourism sector, which has long catered to a mix of international and diaspora visitors, must now adapt its strategies to address the evolving needs and expectations of this loyal but distinct customer base.

Looking ahead, the sector’s recovery will hinge on its capacity to balance short-term adaptations with long-term planning. And, of course, the best way to rebuild Lebanon’s hospitable image is by ensuring that the country is, indeed, welcoming and secure—an onus that falls on actors well beyond the scope of the tourism and hospitality industry.

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Brand Voice

Sun, sea and going smoke-free

by Philip Morris Management Services
written by Philip Morris Management Services

Imagine the feeling of warmth on your face, the sound of waves gently lapping, sunlight hours that stretch long into the evening, and a sense of complete and utter contentment.

Perhaps you envision yourself wandering through the cobbled streets of a picturesque town, admiring colourfully painted shutters and lavender-filled window boxes as birdsong plays peacefully in the distance. Or maybe your idyll is one rife with adventure, where verdant green hikes lead to dusky sunsets of orange, pink and red.

We all want that sweet serendipity of being somewhere else from time to time. Travel can be the circuit-breaker we all need and for those with a sense of wanderlust, there’s plenty to love about taking time away. The anticipation we feel when we have something to look forward to, the emotional connections we make when we experience new things together, the novelty of being somewhere different, discovering new cultures and cuisines, a break from monotony or even just feeling a heightened appreciation of home. Travel really can enrich your life.  

But for the vast majority of us, travel is something that requires forward planning, time away from work, and a budget that accommodates it. Although there are plenty of small steps you can take to make frequent travel a reality, for adult smokers, the cost of cigarettes can place an added burden on budgeting.

Adult smokers consuming a pack of cigarettes a day at the price of the UK national average could be spending as much as £300 a month. That equates to roughly £3650 a year spent on smoking.

The best choice for any adult smoker is to quit tobacco and nicotine products entirely and there are plenty of resources available to help people quit for good. Not just for the sake of their travel budget, but for their health.  

It’s a well-known fact that smoking causes harm, but you may be interested to learn why it’s so detrimental to our health. There are more than 6000 chemicals in cigarette smoke, around 100 of which have been identified by public health authorities as harmful or potentially harmful. Many believe nicotine presents the greatest health risk, but while it is addictive, it is not the primary cause of smoking-related diseases. Smoke as a result of combustion is.  

Whether your motivations are health-related or to help fund goals of exploration, quitting leads to a richer life in more ways than one. With the right support, you can steer a course for new horizons by going smoke-free today and planning for tomorrow.

Brought to you by Philip Morris Management Services – Lebanon.

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Banking & FinanceCommentEconomics & PolicyFiscal policy

The paradox of the Lebanese pound’s recent stability

by Layal Mansour
written by Layal Mansour

Lebanon’s central bank Banque du Liban has achieved 12 months of exchange rate stability. Foreign currency reserves have recently clawed back above $10 billion. At the one-year mark of Wassim Mansouri’s reign as acting governor, economist Layal Mansour lauds his disciplined implementation of a quasi-currency board solution but urges this solution’s full and formal adoption.  

The Lebanese aptitudes for international trade and money dealings have been developed since Phoenician times. Today, however, it borders on delusion to defend the Lebanese pound as a national currency with strong exchange value. As a matter of fact, in recent rankings of 180 fiat currencies in the world, the Lebanese pound (LBP) was the least valued in terms of how many units of a currency it takes to obtain one US dollar (USD). 

As everyone living in our country experiences on daily basis throughout the past year, it requires more than 89,500 LBP to buy a single USD. But Lebanon’s residents also remembers that the pound had passed through several months of even lower value against the USD. 

The strength of a currency is not solely determined by its numerical value, but by a range of economic variables. For instance, in the same report that raps the LBP as the world’s weakest currency in 2024, the Kuwaiti dinar is cited as the world’s strongest currency, with one Kuwaiti dinar equaling 3.25 USD. However, the USD remains the most widely traded currency globally and is universally recognized as the world’s reserve currency.

Inherent to every currency, even the strongest, are risks that affect its acceptance, tradability, and demand. Currencies weaken due to factors such as the effectiveness of central bank interventions, monetary policies aimed at stabilizing prices and inflation, the confidence of international and domestic economic actors in holding a currency, and expectations regarding its future value depreciation.

The above risks and expectations, allowed to compile over decades, have proven devastating for Lebanon. Lebanon’s residents are painfully aware that although the once stable LBP has undergone massive depreciations, devaluation, and the turmoil of multiple officially applied exchange rates due to poor monetary and fiscal policies, no serious actions have been taken against those responsible. Additionally, there have been no significant legal measures to restore confidence in the Lebanese pound or to restructure the banking sector, which is meant to play a crucial role in boosting the economic activity through creating money from granting loans. 

Mansouri’s method

However, since Wassim Mansouri assumed the role of acting governor at the helm of Lebanon’s central bank, Banque du Liban (BDL), at the end of July 2023, the rapid deterioration of the Lebanese pound on a daily or hourly basis has abruptly halted. Mansouri, known for his vigilant legal approach, chose not to intervene in central bank monetary policy and opted to maintain a cautious stance. He refused to lend funds to the government for any expenses, including salary increases, infrastructure maintenance, or loans.

As an economist specialized in monetary policy issues in dollarized countries, who has published in academic journals and proposed (with MP Paula Yaacoubian) the Currency Board draft law No.967/2020 very early in the country’s economic crisis, I have over the past year commended Mansouri several times in newspaper articles and radio interviews for this decision. By adopting an “incomplete” or “fake” currency board arrangement system, Mansouri demonstrated immediate success with exchange rate stability.

It is remarkable but also concerning that this exchange rate stability of the past 12 months, albeit with the above noted detriment of the LBP being the world’s least valuable currency, has been achieved with a monetary solution that is incomplete. In two sentences, a currency board is a monetary system where a country’s new currency is pegged to a foreign currency at a fixed exchange rate, and the domestic currency is fully backed by foreign reserves in a strict 1:1 ratio. The key feature of a currency board is the removal of central bank’s monetary policy including the role of being the lender of last resort or the discretionary power of issuing credit to the government. The country gives up the central bank and replaces it with a currency board. This sacrifice imposes immediate trust nationally and even internationally on the new currency because of the impossibility of future devaluation or the impossibility of having discretionary inefficient monetary policy. 

An “incomplete” currency board approach

In my analysis over the past months, I have referred to Mansouri’s approach as an “incomplete” currency board. While he adopted some elements of a currency board system, such as maintaining a fixed exchange rate and restricting lending, it was not a strict implementation according to legal definitions, which require a currency board to be adopted as a law or set of laws.  parliament.   

Nonetheless, Mansouri’s approach forced the government, particularly the Ministry of Finance (MoF), to enhance revenue collection through VAT and customs adjustments, such as aligning the customs dollar rate with market exchange rates. These measures helped reduce the estimated fiscal deficit for 2023 to nearly zero. Additionally, collaborative efforts between BDL and MoF contributed to the accumulation of foreign reserves. These achievements were acknowledged during an IMF visit to Lebanon in May 2024.

The term “incomplete” or “fake” is also made in reference to another risk factor.  The policy taken by Mansouri (not to lend the government) was taken on the Lebanese pound and not a new currency. According to many research studies on economic behaviors, in a system of continued use of a discredited old currency, people will will still prefer saving, earning, and spending using the US dollar. 

This effect of clinging to the US dollar as the preferred currency is known in economics as dollarization hysteresis. This means that when a country used to foreign currency suffers from severe hyperinflation and currency crash several times and for years and becomes dollarized (either unofficially or partially), it will continue demanding dollars even if the inflation rate and the exchange rate stabilize. That is why, in this unique situation, economists recommend replacing the local currency with a new one: either by fully adopting the foreign currency such as the dollar, or by imposing a new currency under a Currency Board Arrangement (CBA).

Officially, Lebanon is adopting a pegged exchange rate regime (although with an official rate six times smaller than the market rate), with Mansouri attempting to mimic a currency board arrangement on its own. However, maintaining a pegged exchange rate regime in a dollarized country is generally unsustainable and inevitably leads to a crisis sooner or later. This is why economists propose extreme solutions in such scenarios: either full dollarization/CBA, or alternatively, allowing the currency to float in a free float or managed float (see my previous article).

The latter option, a floating exchange rate regime, is not feasible in countries lacking transparency, trust, good governance, and democratic institutions and diversified local production. Even the Gulf countries, among the wealthiest globally, have refrained from adopting a floating exchange rate regime due to the stringent legal/economic frameworks required.

Turning temporary measures into long-term progress

In Lebanon, where transactions are predominantly conducted in dollars, Mansouri’s individual success with his vigilant decision has to be seen as temporary. Despite the exchange rate stability witnessed in the past 12 months, the Lebanese pound remains precarious, as Mansouri’s cautious approach is personal and not officially endorsed. The widespread rejection of the Lebanese pound is evidenced by its high dollarization rate, indicating that about 90% of transactions are conducted in dollars by Lebanese nationals. In another indication of risks associated with the current situation, Lebanon heavily relies on an often untraceable cash economy that facilitates money laundering, predominantly denominated in foreign currencies.

Should the country implement measures to discourage the cash economy, tighten transaction controls, or face international sanctions or oversight, Lebanon would likely face a shortage of circulating dollars, resulting in significant economic strain. 

Lebanon’s heavy reliance on foreign currencies is such that its sovereign political decisions remain constrained. The country cannot afford any disruptions from powerful nations that could restrict or sanction money transfers. This dependency on foreign currencies undermines Lebanon’s ability to assert independent political decisions and makes it vulnerable to external pressures and influences.

The paradox of the Lebanese pound lies in its stability despite lacking hope, trust, or demand. Economic agents routinely substitute the Lebanese pound with the dollar for daily transactions such as salaries, utilities, healthcare, education, shopping, and fuel. Consequently, people have grown indifferent to the stability or instability of the Lebanese pound. They only pay attention and react with panic, as seen in 2020, when they are forced to use Lebanese pounds and must convert them to dollars through platforms or exchange offices.

As long as economic agents continue to avoid using the Lebanese pound, the exchange market appears stable and successful. However, beneath this facade, the Lebanese pound is effectively obsolete and was immediately replaced with a better alternative. 

Since Mansouri demonstrated courage in effectively imposing an incomplete currency board and confronting the government by refusing to finance it, I strongly urge him to continue this initiative and formalize it into law, or alternatively, consider the currency board Law proposal No. 967/2020 from June 2020. He possesses the power and skills necessary to negotiate with the IMF for a well-implemented currency board—a softer version of full dollarization that preserves sovereignty and seigniorage. 

Completing his vision requires sacrificing a central bank monetary policy and introducing a new currency to replace the Lebanese pound. For instance, if the central bank’s foreign reserves to base money (M0, not M2) currently total USD/LBP 90,000, each 1 USD under the CBA would equate to 1 unit of the new currency, which could be designed with an allusion to the trusted national symbol, the cedar. 

The currency board would oversee the conversion of USD to the new currency and vice versa. Like last year’s enhancements in the Ministry of Finance’s performance and deficit reduction, a currency board is widely acknowledged as the most disciplined program a government can adopt. It would promptly improve the fiscal performance of the MoF and enhance international trust in the currency, ensuring no future devaluation, lower interest rates, absence of discretionary monetary policy, independence from political interference, and ultimately attracting foreign investments. Additionally, it would foster competition among private banks, operating free from central bank or political interventions.

I will refrain from concluding with “it is now or never,” because as long as the Lebanese Pound is dead, there is no expiration date for Lebanon to adopt a CBA or even full dollarization. What we need is the will, alongside the courage.

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AnalysisEconomics & PolicyRefugeesSpecial Report

Refugee economics 101 

by Thomas Schellen
written by Thomas Schellen

It is another summer of conflict and despair in the Eastern Mediterranean region, which is to say that a sad saga of displacements, deprivation, and humanitarian aid dependency of an estimated 12 to 14 million people, in overwhelming majority of Syrian origin, now meanders through its 13th annual chapter.

Having started in Arab Spring days of 2011-12, the saga has two intertwined plot lines, the first being one of international humanitarian aid, insufficient burden sharing, and political self-interest dressed up as – or in the friendliest interpretation mixed with – high-brow moral imperialism. The second plot line in the 13-year running serial tragedy is one of political cronyism and obstructionism, ever-decreasing structural reform prospects, and existential uncertainty of millions across the region, regardless of their national belonging or statuses under international law.

The first plot line dominates in international conferences and the second rules regional public squares in the Middle East. Both parts of the narrative share a deficit in real economic perspectives. Common to both plot lines is also the increasing realization that a combination of a cataclysmic institutional cleansing and unprogrammable upside reform shocks in the region’s economies is the only option for bringing the entire saga to a not-too-unhappy close.

The international ploy

The search for funding is a crucial element of the Syrian drama’s international plot line that is mainly written in Europe. At the end of May, EU administrators of foreign affairs and crisis management once again gather together ministerial representatives and civil society members from a handful of Mashreq countries to an annual crisis ritual of political futility and catastrophic numbers. 

The 8th Brussels Conference in Support of Syria and the region results in reiterative statements (live-streamed and recorded), promises of undying dedication, partial fact sheets, and a €7.5 billion commitment by the donor community to support populations in Syria and neighboring countries.

After the conference, international donors’ new commitment to the embattled region amounts to €5 billion in grants and €2.5 billion in concessional loans for 2024 and beyond, according to European Commissioner for Crisis Management Janez Lenarčič. The pledged grants include €2.12 billion in EU support for 2024 and 2025.  

As Lenarčič elaborates in his concluding remarks to conference participants, three fourths of the grant pledges came from the EU and its member countries: €3.9 billion for this year and €1.2 billion for 2025 and beyond. A press release adds, in a standard expression of political EU correctness, that this assistance would support Syrians inside Syria and in neighboring countries, as well as their host communities in Turkey, Lebanon, Jordan and Iraq.

While one can analyze and dissect the numbers of humanitarian aid to countries in the Middle East under a large number of ideological and political approaches, one thing that cannot be derived from such scrutiny – or from remarks uttered at the Brussels conference or smaller-scale crisis meets – is that the efforts are closing the inequality gaps within regional countries or are narrowing these gaps between crisis-hit MENA countries and OECD countries even by a single percentage point. 

To the contrary, numerous delegate remarks in Brussels this year corroborate that pledges a) have been trending downwards and b) neither are nor have ever been matching the needs. The data cited in press releases of the Brussels conference outcomes since 2017 tell the same story.

From the perspective of economy and sustainability, the financing story’s  main characteristics – and chiefly disheartening aspects – thus are decreases in funding but even more so the dearth of progress towards any economically viable outcome. EU official Lenarčič admits to “immense frustration” because, as he says in his keynote, over the past 13 years of the Syrian refugee and internal displacement crisis, “every year the situation worsens and little progress is made towards finding solutions.”

The regional angle: universal insufficiency

Read from the, albeit greatly varying, local perspectives in the affected five East Med countries, the saga is today a drama of threefold insufficiency of international support, solidarity and respect. Insufficiency first in provision of viable support to an estimated 7.2 million internally displaced persons (IDPs) in Syria and secondly, insufficiency in provision of humanitarian aid to approximately 6.5 million externally displaced persons (DPs) in four other sovereign states directly neighboring Syria. Thirdly, and very severely, regional opinion makers bemoan the insufficiency of international “burden sharing” with those four states. 

Burden sharing is a concept that is today often referred to in climate risk discussions but is historically associated with the defense strategies of the transatlantic alliance. In humanitarian context it is the catch phrase for equitably distributing the cost of hosting forcibly displaced persons in the areas where people flee to: up to 90 percent of people forced from their villages and towns by whatever catastrophe flee to places where they have relatives or similar support networks, and thus become IDPs in their own country or refugees in countries nearest to their homes. This phenomenon is one of universal human behavior and requires burden sharing by the affluent countries that benefit greatly when refugees shelter comfortably far from their borders. 

Wider ramifications 

In this sense of analyzing the reach of catastrophes, one might compare the social and economic shock waves of a war, internal conflict, or huge disaster to the blast wave from an explosion (which the denizens of the Beirut conurbation in Lebanon have become involuntary experts on). Such a blast wave rapidly and near instantaneously travels outwards from its “ground zero” at first and subsequently causes, albeit gradually weakening, disruptions in a wide radius. 

Taking this lesson to heart, at stake in the violent drama of Syria are not only the survival and minimal wellbeing of internally and externally displaced human populations in and around Syria. At stake are also the economic fates of directly – as host communities – and indirectly impacted populations in the aforementioned nearby countries, and ultimately also in countries far beyond.

The indirect regional impact of the unmitigated Syrian disaster is today such that citizens in surrounding states are experiencing cumulative economic and social pressures from minor to massive degrees. This exacerbates the urgency of shoring up political reforms and economic resilience in countries with an approximate total inhabitant count of 172 million persons (by population from largest to smallest: Turkey, Iraq, Syria, Jordan, and Lebanon), which is roughly equal to the combined populations of Germany, France, Belgium, Denmark, and Luxembourg in Europe.

Lastly, there is a critical but neigh unanswerable question: what is at stake for the world if one sees global uncertainties beyond the sensationalized role of scapegoats that refugees, migrants, and asylum seekers have been playing in physical beer garden debates and televised political rhetoric in Europe since the days of the European Economic Community (to which, in the debates on Syrian refugees, the marvels of internet communication technology have added troll-infested online forums)? 

The economic and social peace of the European Union has been shored up and defended throughout the bloc’s short history by shielding its common market and high living standard with political and economic means. Could this status quo at some point be materially disrupted to the point of being fundamentally disrupted by a unprepared-for refugee scenario?

It somehow stands to reason that in a globalized world with a population that has doubled from 4 to 8 billion in the past 50 years and that is today experiencing unprecedented mobility of information and knowledge, of financial and human capital, of services, relationships, and cultures – with equally unprecedented, interconnected risks from pandemics to financial contagions and systemic breakdowns – new and different coping strategies and contingency plans for human catastrophes are needed.

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RefugeesSpecial ReportVox Populi

Behind the Fear: The Voices of Refugees in Lebanon

by Rouba Bou Khzam
written by Rouba Bou Khzam

Shortly after Executive committed to conducting interviews with 10 foreigners of Arab origin, a state of anger prevailed in the Lebanese streets that was directed towards Syrian refugees specifically, but also resulted in a buildup of larger frustrations around perceived mishandling of a refugee crisis within the country. 

On April 7th, 2024, Lebanon was shaken by the murder of Pascal Sleiman, a member of the Lebanese Forces Party. The Lebanese military authorities issued a statement on April 8th that read, “The Intelligence Directorate of the Lebanese Armed Forces (LAF) arrested most of the people involved in the kidnapping in Jbeil. Their investigation revealed that the kidnappers were trying to steal the car when things went tragically wrong, resulting in the death of the abducted person. The kidnappers then transported the body to Syria.”  Attacks on Syrians and the damaging of their dwellings and motorbikes erupted in Jbeil and Beirut, while angry protesters—seemingly affiliated to or supportive of the Lebanese Forces—blocked major highways.

Accordingly, I, as head interviewer, faced a significant challenge. All the interviewees were increasingly afraid of being interviewed and having their names or faces scrutinized by readers. They absolutely refused to be photographed.  For this reason, Executive decided to conduct the interviews without pictures and offered the option of anonymity.  Most of the names have been changed except for Kawthar, Mousa and Majida, who consented to the use of their real names. My constant reassurance was, “I’m here to convey your stories and voices and not to hurt you.”  The interviews were conducted both online and in person—in coffee shops, universities where some are students, and in the building where one interviewee works as a concierge. I tried to gather stories from people living in different areas of Lebanon (Beirut, Nabatiyeh, Akkar, and Mount Lebanon) and even reached out to an individual online who is currently in Spain. 

The stories I heard were heavy with hardship. They spoke of discrimination, bullying, and violence. Some considered themselves to be refugees, though a few rejected this label. I sensed the weight of hopelessness in their voices and a desperate yearning for a haven. The common thread? All except one voiced a fervent prayer for a chance to reach Europe, a place they see as offering dignity, human rights, and a secure future, away from the harsh realities they face in both in Lebanon and the places from which they fled.

The majority of the interviewees insisted that, as Kawthar expressed, “we are neither happy nor comfortable here as Lebanese people might think.  We face daily hardships and bear the blame for the actions of others only because we are refugees and can’t return home.”

Through these interviews, I delved into the complex lives of refugees in Lebanon and heard stories that challenged my perceptions, unveiled hidden struggles, and ultimately, reminded me of our shared humanity.

Khalil, a Palestinian refugee

“We came to Lebanon, and all I know is that we are landless and there is no land to which we can return,” says Khalil, a Palestinian refugee currently living in Ain al-Helweh camp. Born in 1996 in the village of Hamama, Majdala District, Palestine, Khalil came to Lebanon just two years later in 1998. 

In 1948, a devastating event for Palestinians called the Nakba or “catastrophe” took place during which, according to the United Nations, 700,000 Palestinians fled conflict or were expelled from their homes in what is now the state of Israel and were not permitted to return. Many sought escape in neighboring countries, including Lebanon.  

Among those who fled to Lebanon in 1948 was Khalil’s father.  Years later, in 1995, he went back to Palestine to reunite with his family and Khalil was born the following year. The family moved to Gaza and after three years returned to Lebanon and took up residence in the Ain al-Helweh camp in Sidon.

Khalil’s early years were characterized by both hardship and a sense of community. He acknowledges the role of UNRWA, the UN agency for Palestinian refugees, in providing basic necessities and education. However, navigating life as a Palestinian in Lebanon presented challenges that continue to this day.

Security limitations are a daily obstacle, Khalil explains. “There are four entrances [to the Ain al-Helweh camp], and there is a check point at each entrance marked by the Lebanese army. We have to show ID and we are subjected to inspection.” These delays, he says, “caused me to miss the first class of many classes” during his university studies.

Finding employment presents an even greater difficulty. Despite holding a Bachelor’s degree in radio and television and a Master’s degree in business administration from the Lebanese International University (LIU), Khalil’s Palestinian nationality has repeatedly disqualified him from jobs in his field of media and communications.

“Rejection from multiple jobs in my area of expertise occurred,” Khalil explains. He recounted an experience with an international organization in Sidon, where he excelled as a volunteer, transitioning to a paid volunteer role. When a media office position opened, he applied. “After the interview, they told me that because you are Palestinian, you cannot be employed,” he said. “They apologized, stating they weren’t aware of my nationality. While I held high hopes for the position, disqualification solely due to my nationality was disheartening.”

Khalil further highlights a paradoxical situation regarding his contradictory status as both Palestinian refuee and foreigner.  “They tell me I cannot register the house [I live in] because I’m a refugee, yet when I apply for a job, they say I’m a foreigner and can’t be hired because of quotas.  So how can I be a foreigner for work but a refugee when it comes to housing? There’s no clear definition of ‘refugee’ in this country, and that’s very frustrating for me.”

Despite the difficulties, Khalil has secured a stable job with a pension, but he is still worried about long term security. “If I were to start a family, I would not want them to reside in Lebanon,” he says. His aspiration is to find a country offering stability and a true sense of belonging, a right that continues to be elusive for him in Lebanon.

Kawthar, a Syrian refugee in Lebanon who was granted asylum in Spain

“I’m like all the Syrian refugees in Lebanon who needed an opportunity to leave, and I finally had it,” says Kawthar over a Zoom interview with Executive. Kawthar is a 24-year-old Syrian woman who had the opportunity to go to Spain with her family for asylum. 

In 2013, the Syrian conflict forced Kawthar’s family of five to flee their hometown of Levant, Syria. The experience left her with lasting memories of the conflict, including the sounds of army aircrafts, missile strikes, and widespread destruction. “Our house was completely destroyed,” she recounts, “and I lost many relatives during that time.”

At the age of 14, Kawthar arrived in Lebanon with her family. They settled in Khiam, southern Lebanon, where her father, a tailor, found work for a low wage, but education was still out of reach for Kawthar. “My father’s income, which could only cover rent, electricity, and basic food, was insufficient to afford my school and transportation fees,” she says.

After five years in Khiam, the family relocated to Nabatiyeh. Here, Kawthar enrolled in free workshops wherever she could find them. She took sessions that taught hairdressing, and others that offered drama therapy and psychological support. During this time, her father has a medical condition requiring two major surgeries and rendering him unable to work. The responsibility of supporting the family shifted to Kawthar and her 18-year-old brother.

Kawthar encountered discrimination while working in Nabatiyeh at a gift and toy shop. “Being new to the job,” Kawthar explains, “I made a mistake. I placed merchandise on the shelf before the owner arrived. When he saw it, he shouted at me and threatened physical violence in front of the entire store. The next day, because I needed the income, I returned to work only to be told I was no longer needed and to go home immediately. I left the store crying in the rain.”

Further hardship struck when Kawthar’s brother was injured. “My brother was the victim of a hit-and-run accident,” Kawthar recounts. “The perpetrator fled the scene, and we were unable to identify them. My brother sustained broken legs and was unable to work for a significant period.”

Following the accident, for a four-year period, the family submitted medical reports to the United Nations. Their intention was to secure assistance with food supplies or medicine for her brother and father. “However, in an unexpected turn of events, the UN resettlement program contacted us, offering asylum in Spain,” she says.

On March 11th, 2024, Kawthar and her family arrived in Spain. They currently reside with a host family and will transition to their own housing within six months. The Spanish government funds her language courses, facilitating her future education. Kawthar aims to pursue a career in accounting in the future. 

“In Spain,” she concludes, “everyone is treated equally. Nationality is not a factor. Here, we feel we are treated with dignity and respect. For the first time, I feel valued as a human being.” Kawthar concludes that, “with this newfound security, I don’t consider returning to Syria, Lebanon, or any Arab country.”

Kareem, a Syrian refugee living in Tripoli, Lebanon

Kareem, a 21-year-old Syrian refugee who requested anonymity, sits down to talk with Executive over a Zoom call. He recalls a childhood shaped by the Syrian conflict. Though his village, Jeb Alis in the Aleppo countryside, remained relatively peaceful, his family fled to Lebanon in 2013 fearing the escalating violence.

“We came when I was ten,” Kareem says.  Their family of six grew to seven with the birth of his sister in Lebanon.

Education, however, posed new challenges upon arrival in Tripoli. Kareem transitioned between three public schools, initially attending afternoon classes designed primarily for Syrian students. “The frequent changes were due to me adjusting to the Lebanese education system and curriculum,” Kareem explains. These afternoon classes offered a sense of familiarity with classmates who shared his experiences.   “Having other Syrian students around made things a little easier at first,” he says.  However, there were downsides. “The quality wasn’t high,” he says. “Teachers were often recent graduates with limited experience. Plus I missed out on core subjects like English and important electives like art, sports, and religion.”

One specific incident stands out in Kareem’s memory. “There was this class about citizenship rights,” Kareem recalls. “The teacher was explaining what rights people have, but then she said something strange. She said Lebanese people have all these rights in their country, while Syrians don’t because it’s not our home. I was upset – rights are for all regardless of nationality.”

In high school, Kareem secured a spot in the regular morning classes alongside Lebanese students.  This transition marked a positive step. “The Lebanese students were welcoming, and I felt comfortable learning with them,” he says. 

Kareem’s experience of balancing work and studies is a common reality for Syrian students whose families typically face significant economic pressures. A study on child labor among Syrian refugees in Lebanon conducted by researchers from the Faculty of Health Sciences (FHS) at AUB in 2019 found that 58 percent of Syrian refugee households live in extreme poverty, unable to access basic survival needs. This forces children like Kareem to contribute to the family income, often at the expense of their education.

“Every day, I had to work in the mornings in a mini market; attend classes for four hours in the afternoon, then return to work at night,” Kareem explains. “All my earnings went to my family to get food and live.”

Despite these challenges, Kareem persevered. He actively improved his language skills through extra efforts at home reading and studying English. After finishing high school, Kareem secured a place at the Southern New Hampshire University in Tripoli, where he is currently enrolled in his first year of business studies.

Kareem’s future hope lies in Europe. “The situation in Lebanon is worsening,” he observes. “Recent events in Jbeil [the murder of Pascal Sleiman] led to shop closures for many Syrians in Tripoli. While we haven’t faced personal issues yet, the fear is constant.” With relatives in France and America, Kareen hopes that joining them one day will open up better economic opportunities. 

Lamia, a Syrian refugee in Akkar, Lebanon

 “We were baking bread at home,” says Lamia, a 21-year-old Syrian refugee recalling memories of her life in Syria. “There was a huge shortage of flour, sugar, and other essential food items that limited our options. Shops were closed, making daily life difficult.” In 2014, the conflict escalated in her neighborhood due to the siege on her hometown of Homs, and Lamia fled with her family at the age of 11. 

Their arrival in Akkar, Lebanon, marked a new chapter for Lamia and her family. Initially, they shared a single home with relatives, effectively creating a three-family household with each occupying a single room. Lamia described these initial living conditions as “very difficult.”  After two months, her father secured a separate residence, allowing them to establish a more permanent home for their family of seven.

“We registered with the United Nations,” Lamia recounts, “but there was no assistance for us as a family because they considered that my siblings being adults could work and spend.” Left without UN support, the family was forced to rely on their insufficient savings during this initial period.

Education also presented hurdles for Lamia.  Upon arrival in Lebanon in 2014, she was enrolled in a Kuwaiti charitable school in Akkar specifically designed for Syrian students.  She spent a full year there completing grade six, but the school’s certificates were not recognized by the Lebanese education system.  Transitioning to a public school in Akkar for seventh grade, Lamia encountered bullying from classmates due to her accent.  “The seventh grade was one of the most difficult grades for me,” Lamia recalls. “There were many days when I would come home crying and say that I would give up and not continue school because I didn’t understand the subjects and the language was very difficult for me, especially the French language. If it were not for my family’s support, I would have stopped studying.”

Following high school graduation, Lamia secured a full scholarship through the Lebanese Association for Scientific Research (LASeR) Spotlight Scholarship Program. This scholarship allowed her to enroll in online business administration studies at an American university.

Lack of Wi-Fi access at home meant that Lamia had to find creative ways to study online with the laptop provided by the association. “I went four days a week from Akkar to Tripoli [two hours of daily commuting] to access LASeR’s center for internet connectivity,” Lamia says. In her second year at the center, a teacher recognized her potential and offered her an online teaching opportunity as a private instructor in mental accounting for a company based in the Emirates.

“I am happy that I am studying and working but there is fear we experience daily,” Lamia says.  She described an unsettling experience that forced them to relocate within Akkar. “One year ago, we were living in a building with several floors,” Lamia recounts. “Our Lebanese neighbor on the first floor was getting annoyed by the sounds and the garbage [from the building’s residents]. He threatened us with weapons, and told us, ‘You want me to hurt one of you lightly until you learn?'”  Lamia maintains her family wasn’t responsible for the disturbances.

According to Lamia, the tensions between Lebanese and Syrians that accelerated after the murder of Pascal Sleiman in Jbeil led to the closure of many Syrian-operated shops in Akkar. These tensions, along with struggles to file and update paperwork, cause concern for Lamia’s future. “My passport is not renewed and we don’t have residency,” she says. “These situations create anxieties as we look toward the future, with the possibility of my father or brother being detained or even all of us being deported.”

Mousa, an Iraqi law student seeking medical treatment for his daughter

Mousa, an Iraqi national and father of two daughters, has been coming to Lebanon since 2012 for medical treatment for his eldest daughter, who has cerebral palsy. He initially made periodic visits but settled in Lebanon in 2018. This decision aimed to facilitate his daughter’s regular physical examinations and pursue a degree at the Islamic University of Lebanon, where he is currently a law student.

Mousa emphasizes his legal status in Lebanon. “I am not considered a refugee,” he clarifies. “I have a student residency permit and maintain a private business in trade back in Iraq. My primary reason for being in Lebanon is my daughter’s health. I return to Iraq every month or two for work and family vacations.”

Treatment costs in Lebanon are a significant concern for Mousa. While acknowledging the lack of specialized physical therapy centers in Iraq, he notes the higher expenses associated with treatment in Lebanon. “The situation was better when a dollar was equal to only 1,500 Lebanese pounds,” he says, referring to the Lebanese currency depreciation following the country’s economic crisis. The dramatic weakening of the Lebanese pound has significantly inflated the cost of treatment in Lebanon, creating a double challenge for Mousa where he is responsible to afford his daughter’s care while also paying for his studies at the Islamic University of Lebanon.

Mousa’s younger daughter attends school in Lebanon and is currently in the third grade. “While she’s definitely improved in her language skills,” Mousa says, “the annual tuition fee of $3,500 creates financial strain for the family. This burden is particularly heavy considering the overall rise in living costs in Lebanon.”  Mousa worries about his ability to continue affording his daughter’s education, especially with the potential for further tuition increases.

Despite not experiencing the continuous personal discrimination that many refugees speak of experiencing in Lebanon, Mousa perceives a difference in treatment based on his nationality. “While I haven’t faced issues in day-to-day interactions,” he says, “there are situations where my Iraqi background seems to affect how I’m treated.” He cites examples in healthcare, where he says costs can increase after he reveals his nationality; and in public security, due to the lengthy and often frustrating residency renewal processes.

“Last year,” Mousa recounts, “I submitted our residency papers for renewal in January.  Despite expecting a one-month turnaround, I wasn’t able to receive the passports until August. This eight-month delay significantly hindered my travel to Iraq for work, creating disruptions to my business and impacting my ability to support my family.”  The stressfulness of these bureaucratic hurdles make it difficult for Mousa to manage his life in Lebanon.

Mousa’s future plans remain uncertain. The availability of improved medical care for his daughter in Iraq is a compelling factor for return. Technological advancements and the establishment of specialized centers there offer hope for his daughter’s continued progress. However, his educational pursuits in Lebanon complicate the decision for Mousa, who has invested time and effort into his law studies. Leaving before completion would, for him, represent a significant loss.

Ali, a Palestinian refugee university student 

“My grandfather came with a dream of returning to our land. But after all this time, even that dream feels out of reach.” These are the words of Ali, a Palestinian refugee who has called a tent in Burj al-Barajneh camp his home since 1948, when his grandfather fled Palestine during its occupation. 

Born in 2004, Ali benefitted from UNRWA schools and completed 12 years of education.  With the help of the Unite Lebanon Youth Project (ULYP) Bridge Program’s SAT prep course, he secured a scholarship to AUB, LAU, and universities in Canada and Turkey. 

While exciting, the scholarships still left a financial gap, like the Canadian one which covered only 70 percent of the expenses.  Ali chose to pursue a nursing degree at AUB with additional assistance from the Palestinian Student Fund (PSF). In January 2024, after four semesters, Ali reluctantly transferred to Beirut Arab University (BAU) where the financial burden would be less strenuous.

Echoing the frustrations of many Palestinians in Lebanon, Ali pointed to the lack of basic rights for refugees.  “We cannot find good job opportunities,” he said. “There is no opportunity to open a private business. If we want to buy a house, we have to register it in the name of a Lebanese person we trust. It cannot be registered in our name.”

Ali’s decision to study nursing—a field facing a shortage in Lebanon—was strategic; he hopes the need for nurses will outweigh his refugee status. Ali currently earns income as an online private tutor to help cover his university fees. Alongside his work and studies, he also founded the FEKRA project, aiming to provide vital academic guidance and deliver online classes and SAT sessions to students in need and raise awareness around issues facing vulnerable communities. 

Ali shared the emotional toll of the ongoing war in Palestine; “Palestinians like us are destined to endure oppression and injustice indefinitely.” Ali explains that this sentiment arises from personal losses, including deaths of relatives and others with whom he’s lost contact. 

In order to travel outside of Lebanon or apply for a visa to a foreign country, Ali must first secure a Palestinian travel document from Lebanon. Refugees who are not registered with UNWRA can only be granted a document valid for one year, while those registered with both the General Directorate of Political Affairs and Refugees as well as with UNRWA can apply for a five-year travel document.  Despite repeated visits to General Security and long waits of over 12 hours, Ali found himself caught in a bureaucratic maze, his paperwork repeatedly rejected without clear explanations. “Every time, officials questioned my education at AUB, mockingly asking ‘Who pays for you? Do you speak English? Describe a situation in English,’ and they laughed.”

“Building a life here isn’t possible,” he says.  His hope lies in a program offered by the PSF every two years, a chance for Palestinian nursing students to work in England.  This opportunity is driven by a desperate need for safety.  Ali painted a grim picture of his current camp – dangerous electrical wiring that often runs through accumulated rainwater and claims lives through electrocution, and a constant threat from loose weapons and thefts, often attributed to the influx of Syrian refugees.  He concludes with a statistic highlighting the demographic shift: “Out of 50,000 residents, 35,000 are Syrians, leaving just 15,000 Palestinians. This situation needs control.”

Abu Ahmed, a Syrian concierge in Verdun, Beirut

In the heart of Beirut’s bustling Verdun district, sunlight streams through the entrance of a modern apartment building, illuminating the kind face of concierge Abu Ahmed. He greets each resident with a friendly word, a helping hand with groceries, or a quick fix for a squeaky door. 

By 2010, life in Abu Ahmed’s hometown of Al-Hasakah, Syria, had become a relentless struggle for Abu Ahmed. Juggling his duties in the Syrian army with long hours at a local sweets shop and private transport work, Abu Ahmed struggled to make ends meet.  But it wasn’t just the workload; simmering political tensions and frequent panic-inducing situations related to the impending conflict created a climate of fear and instability. Newly married with a young son, Abu Ahmed made the difficult decision to leave his family in Syria and build a more secure future for them in Lebanon.

The construction industry was booming in Lebanon, and Abu Ahmed found steady work in various Baabda workshops until finally landing a job as a concierge in Verdun in 2011. Despite the stability, Abu Ahmed still hoped to be reunited with his family.

In 2014, he embarked on a perilous 1200-kilometer journey back to Syria. Passing through Raqqa, then under ISIS control, he encountered hostile faces and a newly unfamiliar landscape. Recalling one encounter at the border, Abu Ahmed says, “When the foreign official was looking for my civil ID I gave it to him and asked him if I could smoke a cigarette.”  What Abu Ahmed saw as a simple request was met with aggression.  “He started screaming at me hysterically and threatened to cut off my head,” Abu Ahmed says.  “He kept repeating, ‘You are a corrupt generation. You are a corrupt generation.'”  In addition to the threats, the sounds of shelling nearby added to the raw fear.  Witnessing this violence firsthand left no doubt – he had to get his family out of Syria.

“On the bus back to Lebanon,” Abu Ahmed remembers, “strict rules were enforced.” He says that women were segregated at the back, completely covered, adding, “My son didn’t even recognize his mother because of the full blanket.”

Since then, the dream of returning home has remained unfulfilled. In 2021, Abu Ahmed and his wife took their four children back to Syria, “to return to my country… forever.” However, the reality on the ground was far from welcoming.

Kurdish control in his area presented a new set of challenges. “There was a fierce battle,” he recounts. Schools, now under Kurdish control, offered a curriculum incompatible with his values. Overcrowding, constant clashes, and a sense of volatility made the situation untenable.

“I stayed there for only 28 days,” he says. Lebanon, once viewed as a potential refuge, now felt like the only option.

The thought of escaping to Europe has crossed his mind, but the fear of losing his family at sea is a powerful deterrent. “All I can do now is focus on my children’s education.” He diligently teaches them foreign languages at an afternoon institute in hopes that these skills will one day pave the way for life in a European country where Abu Ahmed imagines a brighter future for them.  “For me,” he continues, “the dream remains – a return to a peaceful Syria, not as a transient visitor, but as a man rejoining his family, finally whole again. Lebanon has provided shelter, but here I’ll always be an outsider,” Abu Ahmed concludes. “The danger of being Syrian, it never truly leaves us.”

Hanan, a Palestinian mother born in Syria and now a refugee in Lebanon

Hanan, her voice hushed, talks about the events that led her to Lebanon.  Born in Syria’s Yarmouk camp, a Palestinian refugee by origin, she is no stranger to displacement and hardship. Yet, she says nothing prepared her for the horrors that unfolded in 2011-2012.  “Every time [we heard a bombing] my little daughter asked me, ‘Should we go to the shelter now?'” Hanan recalls.

Eventually, one fateful strike destroyed their entire home, leaving them with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Hanan, her husband, and their daughter, and some extended family members fled Syria in 2013, seeking refuge in Hanan’s grandmother’s house in Nabatiyeh, Lebanon. It was a desperate scramble for safety, and they were forced to share the cramped space with eight other families. Here, basic necessities were a luxury. Without electricity, the two light bulbs of the residence were powered by a single UPS. During the winter, the only source of heat came from a coal furnace that offered a small measure of comfort.  Pregnant at the time, Hanan describes the anxiety that accompanied the physical discomfort, “I even slept with my hijab on because there were many men with us in one house,” she whispers.

Hanan explains that with the help of Hezbollah, her family was able to secure a small apartment for $350 a month. “Hezbollah gave us the rent for 3 months and they helped us with blankets to sleep on,” Hanan says. Her husband and brother, determined to provide for their family, took on work as plumbers. “They worked day and night and were very tired for a very, very small amount of money that only brought basic foods,” she says.

Lebanon’s economic strain and social tensions fostered an environment of prejudice towards Syrians.  Hanan says she faces constant verbal abuse, fearing to even walk the streets.  This atmosphere of hostility extended to her daughter, whom Hanan says is ostracized by classmates at school.

The uncertainty surrounding her husband’s fate adds another layer of anguish.  In 2022, in a desperate attempt to build a better life for his family, Hanan’s husband hired a smuggler to help him reach Germany. His first step was to reach Turkey, a common transit point for refugees seeking to reach Europe.  From there, he connected with a smuggler, striking a deal for passage to Germany.  When the smuggler demanded double the amount that was initially agreed upon at the Turkish border,  Hanan’s brothers—already in Germany—appealed to friends for help and managed to transfer the additional funds.

Upon reaching Greece, a key entry point for many refugees into Europe, Hanan’s husband was apprehended by authorities.  Detained and eventually returned to Turkey, he found himself trapped in a cycle of repeated attempts and failures. His communication with Hanan during this time was sporadic.  He tried various routes, but was ultimately captured again and transferred back to Idlib, Syria. “The last message I received from him was at the first of Ramadan [March 10th, 2024], that he is now in Idlib and do not call him on this number,” she says. The lack of communication since then has left Hanan fearful and uncertain.  

The toll of war and exile has been immense.  “We are fighting death to get out of here,” Hanan concludes.

Norma, a Syrian student at a public school in Verdun, Beirut

In the heart of Beirut lives Norma, a 17-year-old Syrian student with a determined spirit. Unlike most teenagers, her memories of Syria are gleaned from photographs and stories, not lived experiences.  Born in Lebanon in 2007, just 20 days after her family arrived, Norma considers herself Lebanese in all but nationality. “We don’t consider ourselves refugees,” she clarifies, “We have residency, a sponsor, and legal papers. We visit Syria regularly, and no one bothers us.”

Norma has fond recollections of her early school days at Shakib Arslan public school in Verdun, Beirut. She excelled academically, developed strong friendships, and was well regarded by teachers, and school officials. For Norma, her Syrian background wasn’t a barrier, but rather a facet of her identity.  However, the 2019-2020 school year coincided with a period marked by a confluence of crises in Lebanon.  The country was teetering on the brink of economic collapse, with widespread protests erupting in October 2019.  Then, the arrival of the COVID-19 pandemic in early 2020 both exacerbated the spiraling economic situation and forced schools to transition to online learning.  “It wasn’t the same,” Norma says.

Her dream of becoming a doctor, fueled by a desire to help others, faced a new obstacle – instability.  Adding to the chaos, teacher strikes demanding better pay began in earnest in 2020.  These strikes resulted in frequent school closures and a fractured curriculum, significantly impacting the learning experience for students like Norma.  “These disruptions affected my grades,” Norma explains, “as did my father’s financial situation.  A private medical university is simply out of reach.”

Despite the setbacks, Norma remains undeterred.  She’s set her sights on a new goal – pharmacy.  “It’s less expensive,” she explains pragmatically, “and there’s a need for pharmacists in my hometown in Syria.”  A flicker of hope lights up her eyes as she talks about the possibility of returning and contributing to her community.

Norma’s father, a symbol of resilience, embodies the complex relationship between Syrian refugees and Lebanon.  Despite the hardships, he resisted calls to register with the UN for potential resettlement in Europe.  “He sees Lebanon as a second home,” Norma explains, “a place with shared Arab customs and traditions.”  He worries about raising his children in an unfamiliar cultural landscape.

Recent events in Jbeil, where tensions against Syrians flared up, have troubled Norma.  “It upsets me,” she says with quiet conviction, “that one mistake by a Syrian makes people think all Syrians are bad.  It’s wrong.  Lebanon is home, and just like there are good Lebanese people, there are good Syrians too.  We just want to live in peace and dignity.”

Majida Al Shahab, a 22-year-old Syrian refugee university student

“Lebanon, this multicultural country that allowed me to learn, gain experience, and network with others, is also the country that I’m planning to leave from because of difficult financial and societal reasons.”  These are the conflicted words of Majida, a Syrian refugee whose story reflects the tightrope walk many refugees face in Lebanon.

Majida, originally from Deir al-Zuhur, Syria, once lived a normal life. Her father, burdened by a chronic back problem, managed to support their family of nine through agriculture. But the war tore their world apart.  Their home was destroyed, and on top of the constant dangers, they faced additional threats due to her father’s past. In the 1990s, he had spent time in Lebanon, and certain groups in their Syrian region now considered him an outsider. Fearing persecution, they fled to Lebanon in late 2012, leaving their homeland behind with no chance of return.

“When we first came to Lebanon,” Majida explains, “we were registered with the United Nations due to our need for income and protection. Initially, they provided us with a monthly stipend of around $45 per family member. But this assistance has dwindled to the point where we no longer receive any support.”

Despite the hardships, Majida sought normalcy for herself and her family.  She enrolled in public schools in Aainab, Mount Lebanon, where they lived, as these schools were practically free. However, her experience there was far from ideal.  Majida faced racism from her classmates.  They ostracized her, refusing to talk to her.  This culminated in a disturbing incident during an exam.  “When my classmates were cheating,” Majida recounted, “they threw their cheat sheets to me when they thought the teacher wasn’t looking. The teacher assumed I was the one cheating and punished me.  My family had to intervene.  This experience made me feel like a target, like they saw me as an easy mark.”

Majida says she responded by pouring herself into her studies, where she felt she could excel.  She also actively participated in volunteer activities, telling Executive that her hope was that her accomplishments and dedication would bridge the gap with her classmates.

Her hard work paid off.  Majida’s high grades secured her an 80 percent scholarship to study medical lab sciences at the University of Balamand.  Financial aid covered an additional ten percent, and to bridge the remaining gap, Majida works part-time at the university lab.

Despite her academic success, her future in Lebanon feels precarious. Unannounced raids on their home and recent events in Jbeil have heightened anxieties within the Syrian refugee community.  Majida dreams of a stable future abroad, a job with a pension that allows her to support her family and eventually bring them to safety. “We condemn crime,” she says, “but not all Syrians should be punished.” Her story exemplifies the ongoing challenges faced by refugees in Lebanon, where even academic success can’t guarantee a sense of security.

The interviews were originally conducted in Arabic. 

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