A Snapshot of Lebanon’s Destruction
This isn’t going to be a history of what happened. This is the perspective of one Lebanese man who lived through the Israeli attack on Lebanon.
To be (very, very) brief: In September 2024, Israel conducted a range of attacks on Lebanon including a terrorist attack using pagers and electronic devices, extensive aerial bombing destroying homes and entire villages, killing over 800 Lebanese in just one week, and the assassination of Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah. And that’s just the short list.
On 1 October 2024, Israel invaded Lebanon — the sixth time Israel has invaded since 1978. In under three months, Israel killed over 4,000 people, injured over 16,600, affected 1.3 million people, and caused massive displacement and damage. Nearly 900,000 people were internally displaced, and 560,000 people crossed from Lebanon into Syria. 14,775 attacks by the IOF were documented, with over half occurring from late September to late November 2024.
Lebanese infrastructure has been decimated in southern Lebanon and parts of Beirut. In the south, Israel has damaged nearly a quarter of the buildings — over 6000 of them. Across the country, more than 30 water facilities were damaged, affecting thousands of hectares of farmland. Israel also deliberately targeted and destroyed five schools, five municipal centers, 47 hospitals, and 94 primary health care centers and dispensaries. In Beirut, 353 buildings were completely destroyed, 593 were severely damaged, and 4000 additional buildings sustained significant damage. According to World Bank estimates, these losses amount to 3.4 billion USD in property damage alone.
On 26 November, after Israel destroyed massive parts of southern Lebanon and Beirut, a ceasefire agreement was signed. The agreement stipulated that Israeli troops would withdraw from southern Lebanon, and Hezbollah would pull back north of the Litani River, ending their presence in the south. All this should take 60 days.
The ceasefire went into effect on 27 November. What has happened since?
Firstly, Israel violated the ceasefire more than 100 times — in the first week alone. And it has continued to carry out over 600 violations as it continues to damage property, kill and injure civilians, and violate Lebanon’s boundaries. This includes over 800 violations of Lebanese airspace. This unfortunately isn’t unusual. Over the past 15 years, 22,111 Israeli military aircraft have violated Lebanese airspace.
So much for “ceasefire.”
And now, 60 days are up. And Israel has already signaled its intent to remain in southern Lebanon past the official withdrawal date. This was always the plan.
In summary, Lebanon has lost between 15 to 20 billion USD because of the war, and 750 million USD are needed to rebuild what has been destroyed by Israeli attacks. Lebanon’s population is 5.8 million — and 1 million of those are in need of humanitarian aid. Nearly ⅙ of the population.
These numbers are staggering. But we conveniently forget that behind these numbers are real people — humans whose lives and livelihoods have been destroyed. One of these served as my guide through the damaged parts of Beirut.
Look… he says to me, pointing to one building after another. Or, what used to be a building. Now it’s nothing but rubble.
They didn’t leave one place untouched. Each building they hit destroys the entire block as well. The buildings next to those that were targeted are unfit for living. They have made everything unfit for humans.
And in the south, they haven’t stopped. There isn’t a street left. They have turned it into scorched earth. Every day. Every day. Every single day.
And what is this ceasefire? They do not stop. We aren’t retaliating. We understand what ceasefire means. We are sitting and taking it. Let the world see who the real criminal is.
He sighs, and we drive on in silence for a moment, passing block after block of destruction. It’s eerie, the rubble. You can see remnants of lives sticking out — a sofa, the frame of a door, a child’s toy.
Look… Here there was a building. Now it’s a crater. Here there was a community. Now it’s a wasteland.
He chuckles, pointing to a group of men sitting on top of broken concrete with plastic chairs and the front of a car as a makeshift table. They are talking, gesticulating enthusiastically, drinking coffee, laughing.
A coffee shop in the destruction. We drink our coffee on top of the bones of our broken homes. We keep going. We keep living. What choice do we have.
It wasn’t a question.
American and Israel do what they want and we have to sit there. To take it. To accept whatever they do. In this area alone they released 83 tons of explosives. More than 300 buildings.
Others were visiting the areas as well, looking out onto what used to be homes, shops, schools, mosques — vibrant communities.
They have forced us to be witnesses to our own destruction. We bear witness and we are supposed to be grateful for it. We are forced to accept it. If we dare retaliate, you call us savages. Only they have the right to self-defense. What an unequal world we live in!
He points to the giant crater left by the tons of explosives used to assassinate Nasrallah.
Look what they do to kill one man. So much destruction, such a desire for revenge. And here we come to see and to grieve. Look what they make us do — we are the tourists of our own tragedy.
We stood in silence, bearing witness. I asked about the ceasefire — will it hold?
What is a ceasefire that we are forced to abide by and they violate daily?
As if on cue, an Israeli jet flies overhead, making its characteristic sonic boom. This act of psychological warfare is done on a regular basis to traumatize an already-traumatized population. It’s one of the Israeli forces’ signature displays of toxic masculinity.
You heard that? Who is the monster? What they did to us, not a cockroach can survive. No one will help us. Khalas (finish) we are at their mercy now. They took what they wanted. And now they enslaved us with their politics. Israel, America. They own everything — the economy, the media. They tell the story they want to tell. No one tells our stories. They own us. We tried to fight to own ourselves but it was a matter of time before we were owned too.
The tragic tour ended at his house — or what was left of it. By then, his words were few.
We lost our house. It was here. We had just bought new furniture. Our building, our entire block. Nothing is left. We moved in with relatives. We can’t afford to rebuild. And no one will do it for us. We are stuck living like this. The children don’t understand. They keep asking for their bikes. I will have to buy new ones…
