In Beirut, the influx of displaced people revives community tensions

In the center of Beirut, which trembles at the din of Israeli bombings on its southern suburbs, the influx of displaced people from Hezbollah strongholds is causing tension and panic, reawakening the demon of community tensions.

After welcoming a family fleeing the southern suburbs, a stronghold of the Shiite movement, into her Beirut apartment, Christina had to ask them to leave: her neighbors feared that she might belong to Hezbollah, which was being hunted by Israel.

“Our neighbors panicked, they started asking questions,” says this 30-year-old woman who refuses to give her last name. “There are growing tensions and suspicions towards the displaced, because they belong to the same [Shiite, editor's note] community as Hezbollah,” she explains.

While this group, the only one not to have laid down its arms after the civil war (1975-1990), enjoys immense support within its community and considerable influence on the governance of the country, many Lebanese blame it for having dragged the country into a war with Israel.

The conflict that began a year ago with the opening of a front against Israel by Hezbollah, an ally of Palestinian Hamas, has turned into open war since September 23, with the Israeli army pounding the strongholds of the pro-Iranian movement in southern and eastern Lebanon, and in the southern suburbs of the capital.

The bombings killed more than 1,110 people, according to an AFP count based on official figures, and displaced more than a million.

Photo: Patrick Baz Agence France-Presse A man displaced by Israeli raids has found refuge near the edge of the sea, in Beirut. “Lebanon for all,” can be read on the wall.

“Barbus”

Tens of thousands of people poured into the capital, crowding into schools or even sleeping on the streets.

In 15 days, the face of Beirut, which had become overcrowded, was transformed, with traffic heavier than ever and overflowing garbage.

A 58-year-old housewife described, speaking on condition of anonymity, the fear that gripped her neighborhood after a very religious family moved into the building.

The women were veiled in black from head to toe. But the family has no political affiliation, she says, “it's just religious.”

“We see more and more women in chadors, bearded men and young people dressed in black. We're not used to it” in central Beirut, she adds.

Photo: Agence France-Presse A displaced woman listened to a speech by a senior Hezbollah official in a Beirut schoolyard on Tuesday.

“Paranoia”

“People look at each other suspiciously in the street,” she continued, acknowledging that she herself was caught up in the ambient paranoia.

While visiting a friend, she saw bearded men on the balcony of an apartment housing displaced people. She cut her visit short, worried that they might be members of Hezbollah, and therefore potential targets for an Israeli strike.

Outside Beirut, tensions have also risen in the small, multi-religious country of nearly six million people, where the wounds of civil war have yet to heal.

Israeli strikes have targeted displaced people outside Hezbollah’s traditional strongholds, such as the Druze mountain village of Baadaran.

“People used to rent houses to anyone at first, but now they’re much more careful,” said Imad, a 68-year-old resident of a Druze village who declined to give his last name.

Elie, who also wanted to give only his first name, said that no one in his Christian village near Beirut has rented a home to the displaced.

“People are afraid because you can't know if there are Hezbollah members among them,” the 30-year-old told AFP. “They're also afraid that the displaced people will settle permanently.”

Read also

• Israel expands its ground offensive against Hezbollah in southern Lebanon
• In Tripoli, Lebanon, aid for displaced people is being put in place

Squatters

In Beirut, displaced people have broken into empty buildings in search of shelter, reviving bad memories of the civil war that has killed more than 150,000 people.

“A very small number of displaced people have occupied private property,” the police announced a few days ago, assuring that they were working to “evacuate” them and find a solution to house them.

Riad, a 60-year-old businessman living abroad, says his sister-in-law is looking after their apartment to avoid potential squatters.

“We experienced this in the 1970s and 1980s,” when armed groups took over properties and gave them to members of their community, he says.

“Some took ten years to get their homes back… That’s why people are panicking,” he adds. “It’s happened before, it will happen again.”