Beirut’s Southern Suburb — universally known simply as the Dahieh — needs no introduction. The phrase alone commands attention in Lebanon, across the region and beyond. Over the years, the Dahieh has ceased to be a mere geographic space; it has become a political symbol and a fully-fledged social and security ecosystem that tied directly to Hezbollah’s influence and its footprint in the Lebanese landscape.
Amid competing narratives and a patchwork economy that contains both some of Lebanon’s poorest neighborhoods and pockets of real prosperity, the Dahieh remains one of the most misunderstood areas in Lebanon and the Arab world.
Before Lebanon’s 1975 civil war, the district bore no resemblance at all to its current identify. It was known as the Southern Metn Coast; a quiet extension of Beirut and an enchanting agricultural area famed for citrus groves and the scent of lemon blossoms. It housed mostly Christian towns alongside smaller Shiite ones, such as Ghobeiry and Burj al-Barajneh. But war, cycles of wars, displacement and migration transformed the area beyond recognition.
Abbas Hedli, a researcher and social activist, told Alhurra that the district’s pre-war character disappeared entirely after the conflict ended. The area, he said, “shed its tradition of coexistence and adopted a political and religious identity.” Unregulated urban expansion, the dominance of sub-state armed actors, and large-scale land purchases led to a radical demographic transformation in the area. Although towns like Mreijeh and Laylaki still appear on voter rolls as, nominally, majority Christian, their actual residents today are almost entirely newcomers who settled there after the war.
Hedli recollects a phrase attributed to late President Elias Hrawi: “the smell of citrus blossoms lingered vividly in my memory of these villages”. That soul is gone, Hedli said. “It turned from the Southern Metn Coast … into the Sayyid’s Suburb,” a reference to Hezbollah’s leader.
Since the 1990s, the Dahieh has become Hezbollah’s political, social and security hub, home to the group’s major public, medical and service institutions. Researchers widely agree that this consolidation was enabled by the near-total absence of the Lebanese state and Hezbollah’s ability to fill the vacuum through its network of health, social and educational institutions — effectively becoming the primary service provider.
Hedli notes that Hezbollah operated in parallel with the state, not within it. The movement, he said, “does not seek full integration with the state but runs alongside it,” building a parallel authority structure inside the Dahieh.
One stark example, he says, is that state-owned health centers are effectively run by Hezbollah-linked institutions, making residents credit the group, and not the government, even though the funding basically comes from the latter.
Population counts are frequently exaggerated. While many assume the Dahieh is home to more than a million people, Riad al-Habr, a statistician and head of Statistics Lebanon, told Alhurra such claims fall squarely into the realm of myth. His latest estimates put the population at roughly 333,000, with a realistic upper limit of 400,000. “It is impossible for the number to be one or two million,” he said. “Administrative Beirut itself has around 400,000 residents, and the Dahieh has a smaller population.”
The district’s core areas include Haret Hreik, Ghobeiry, Shiyah, Mreijeh and Burj al-Barajneh. Palestinian residents in the Sabra and Shatila camps and surrounding neighborhoods are not counted in the Dahieh’s population, despite their social and geographic impact along its edges.
In terms of sectarian composition, al-Habr’s data show that about 90% of residents are Shiite, fewer than 7% are Sunni, and roughly 3% are Christian who continue to dwell some of its older neighborhoods.
Ghalia Daher, a Sunni resident of the Dahieh for 30 years, told us she has never faced social difficulties living there. “There is coexistence,” she said, “but the disagreements are entirely political. If you haven’t lived in the Dahieh, you can’t understand it.”
Understanding the district requires returning to its roots, Hedli said. “The Dahieh was not originally a Shiite area. Shiites moved there from the South, Jabal Amel and the Bekaa in the 1960s to escape armed clashes with the Palestine Liberation Organization. They chose Christian areas because those communities were more welcoming.” Over time — with the civil war and unregulated urban sprawl — the district became the “capital of the Shiites” in Lebanon and a battleground for various forces: the Lebanese army, Syrian troops, Israeli forces and Palestinian factions.
The word “Dahieh” is often associated with slums and impoverished belts. But in Lebanon, the term has come to apply almost exclusively to Beirut’s southern suburb, even though Beirut has suburbs to the north and east as well. The Dahieh is often portrayed as the refuge of the underdogs and the marginalized — a characterization no longer entirely accurate in the last decade.
Ghalia offers a more human depiction. “People here work from dawn to dusk to make a living. Some streets have no electricity, but others are full of shops and restaurants. The Dahieh isn’t one color, and everything can be found here.”
Economically, the district is sharply uneven. It is not uniformly poor, as often portrayed in the medias. Some areas, such as parts of Haret Hreik, Hadath and Saint Thérèse, maintain a comfortable standard of living. Others — including Hayy al-Sellom and Sahra Choueifat — suffer from extreme crowding, structural poverty and a high concentration of Syrian and Palestinian refugees.
Despite the stereotyped prosperity of some pockets, al-Habr notes that some Dahieh neighborhoods remain among the poorest in Lebanon. Poverty affects roughly 75% of residents, especially in the southern sections and near the Palestinian camps. But the area also contains a substantial middle class and a very well-off segment in its affluent western districts.
Where, then, does the visible wealth — luxury buildings, busy commercial streets, shopping malls — come from?
“The main source is the Shiite diaspora,” al-Habr said. “Shiites in Africa, Canada, the United States and Australia built a real Shiite bourgeoisie. They invest heavily in Lebanon. Many own an apartment abroad and a luxury one in the Dahieh or the South.” He noted that apartments can reach $500,000 and even exceed $1 million in upscale neighborhoods. Hezbollah, he added, plays only a limited role in this prosperity. “There is no direct link between the community’s wealth and Hezbollah. Party leaders project modesty; diaspora money is the real driver.”
As for post-war reconstruction after the 2006 conflict, al-Habr believes it did not generate new prosperity but simply restored buildings to their previous state — with some exploiting gaps in regulations to add extra floors.
Rebuilding the Dahieh after the 2006 war marked a turning point in the relationship between residents and Hezbollah. The group’s “Waad” (Promise) construction arm, part of Jihad al-Binaa (the Jihad of building), handled the entire process. Hedli said the state effectively mandated Hezbollah to lead reconstruction, and even donor funds — including Arab contributions — were funneled through Waad. This cemented Hezbollah as a de facto substitute for the state in residents’ eyes.
Since the latest round of conflict with Israel in 2023 — including airstrikes and targeted killings in the heart of the Dahieh — there has been a new and menacing shift in the public’s mood. Hedli said Jihad al-Binaa again took on the role of the state by surveying damage, cataloging destruction and preparing assessment files. He added that state institutions were entirely absent, and the Lebanese Army — traditionally responsible for initial damage assessments — was not assigned. “The result was widespread anxiety and a noticeable wave of internal displacement to safer areas. Alternatively, residents rented a second home outside the Dahieh as a contingency plan.” Residents, he said, feel “abandoned” and believe the state played no role in reassuring them or protecting civilians from the aftermath of the war.
Al-Habr says the most recent Israeli offensive was a turning point. Roughly 250,000 people fled the Dahieh, leaving between 120,000 and 127,000 residents behind. The exodus produced a real-estate slump that caused property value to plummet. “A $500,000 apartment now sells for $300,000 or even $250,000,” he said. Meanwhile, rents skyrocketed in Metn, Aley and Baabda as families sought alternatives or backup housing.
Ghalia refuses to leave or rent a house aways from Dahieh. She recounted that she and her family were just meters from the most recent Israeli assassination of Hezbollah commander Haitham Tabtabai. “The blast was terrifying. We froze in place. But despite the constant fear we’re not leaving,” she said. “The Dahieh is not a barracks. Yes, there’s fear, but there is also life.”
The Dahieh is often portrayed as a closed security zone. Al-Habr offers a double-lens perspective: “Some areas are cordoned by security perimeters because of Hezbollah institutions. But the Dahieh is also a place with complete freedom of movement, sprawling supermarkets, restaurants and trade businesses.”
He addresses a core relevant question: Has Hezbollah’s popularity changed after its heavy losses?
“According to our polling, there has been no change among the Shiite public,” al-Habr said. “There is blame, but loyalty remains intact.” The real shift, he said, is among other sects. “Hezbollah has lost the support of the Sunni, Christian and Druze communities their political spectrum — even factions previously allied with it. What remains is the core Shiite base committed to the party’s ideology and path.”
Randa Jebai
Randa Jebai is an award-winning journalist with more than 20 years of experience. She joined Alhurra TV’s investigative team in 2020, earning honors from the AIBs, New York Festivals, and the Telly Awards. She previously worked with major Lebanese outlets and holds master’s degrees in law and journalism.
