Lebanon's Wartorn South: A City in Ruins and Resilience
Najib Ayyad, a former parliamentary office worker, returns to his ruined apartment in Nabatiyeh, a city in southern Lebanon. He stands on the balcony, now shattered, and looks toward Beaufort Castle — a Crusader-era fortress that Israeli forces captured in May. From its high perch, the Israeli military watches over the area, a constant presence. "They can see us clearly from there," Ayyad says, his tone quiet but firm. Though he once lived here, commuting to work in a nearby parliament member’s office, Ayyad now stays with his daughter in Beirut. With no money to afford another place, he returned only to gather what belongings he could. The path into his apartment is blocked by broken concrete, and inside, shattered glass and rubble cover the staircase. The place, once home, is now a haunting reminder of war’s toll.
In a city scarred by conflict, the air is filled with the low hum of Israeli drones. Smoke rises from a recent artillery strike just outside the city limits. Despite the damage, life clings to the ruins. Hanan Hamadi, a local shop owner, has reopened her tiny convenience store after returning from Beirut, where she and her mother had taken refuge. The store, once modest, now serves as a symbol of resilience. Hamadi’s mother, Salwa Hachouch, voices hope in the future: "God willing, we will rebuild the market better than ever and everyone will come back." It’s a sentiment echoed by many in the region, though the road to recovery is long and uncertain.
City in Ruins
Nabatiyeh, historically a key commercial hub along the ancient trade route between Jerusalem and Damascus, has been reduced to a city of rubble. The once-vibrant covered market, known for its red-tiled roofs and stone arches, now lies in ruins. This market, a testament to the city's Ottoman-era past, was once filled with produce, textiles, and handmade goods. Mayor Abbas Fakhreddin points to the destruction and warns residents to stay away. "We are telling people to wait to come back," he says, explaining that the damage goes beyond security concerns. "We don't have the necessities of life. There is a huge amount of work to be done here." For many in Nabatiyeh, the evidence of the destruction suggests Israel’s intent to cripple the city’s commercial and cultural life.
Since the war began on March 2, Lebanese health officials have reported at least 4,200 deaths, with one in five of the victims being women or children. The toll on civilian life has been immense, despite Israel’s insistence that its operations are aimed at targeting Hezbollah infrastructure. Israel says 37 of its soldiers, one military contractor, and two civilians have been killed in attacks by the Iran-backed militant group. Nabatiyeh, a stronghold of Hezbollah’s political and social influence, has been a focal point of these attacks. The group, which also provides essential social services in the area, has found itself at the center of a brutal conflict that has left much of the city in shambles.
Hamadi’s shop, like many in the city, is a patchwork of survival. A plastic sheet replaces the shattered door. Inside, shelves hold essentials like canned goods, yogurt, and plastic bags of flat bread. Among the items is an unlikely symbol — birthday candles — an indicator that some may yet celebrate normalcy. When a boy enters to ask about the price of a candy bar, Hamadi tells him whatever he has is enough. Later, she explains that the child's father was injured in an attack. These small moments of humanity offer a glimpse of a life still clinging to hope.
Daily Life Amidst Destruction
For returnees and those still living in the city, the reality remains bleak. Najib Ayyad says even if his apartment were intact, he still wouldn’t be able to stay. The city is under constant surveillance, and electricity remains out in large parts of the area. The psychological and physical toll of living under such conditions is immense. "Even if my apartment weren't damaged I couldn't stay," Ayyad says, his words carrying the weight of someone who has seen too much in a place once filled with life.
According to Israel's Defense Minister, forces further south have already destroyed more than 15,000 homes in border villages as part of what it calls a "buffer zone." This zone, Israel claims, is necessary to prevent Hezbollah from launching attacks across the border. The strategy has had devastating consequences for local communities, with entire neighborhoods reduced to rubble. For now, Nabatiyeh remains frozen in time, caught between the past and an uncertain future. The city’s scars are deep, but for some, like Hanan Hamadi, the will to rebuild still remains. The question is how long that will endure.
