In the Christian villages near Lebanon’s southern border, shells do not need to land in town squares, churches, or homes for residents to feel their impact. The road, the shop, and the timing of returning home all become part of daily calculations shaped by multiple uncertainties.
War has entered these villages repeatedly, leaving behind deaths and destroying homes, whether over their owners or in their absence.
The effects of the war between Hezbollah and Israel are clearly visible in daily life in these villages: shops emptied of goods, roads where movement dwindles by evening, and farmers gripped by anxiety as they carefully calculate every trip to their fields. Waiting has become a way of life in these towns—waiting for a road to open, for supplies to arrive, or for a crossing permit that may be delayed or lost amid the broader complexities of the local and national situation.
Residents and local officials say that entry into and exit from these villages now pass through what is known as the “mechanism,” a system regulating movement in areas classified as “neutral.” But this classification leaves residents facing an ambiguous reality: towns that appear protected in theory yet are effectively besieged, and a civilian life dependent on security arrangements over which residents have no control.
After meeting Maronite Patriarch Cardinal Mar Bechara Boutros al-Rahi last March, the U.S. ambassador to Lebanon, Michael Issa, said Washington had obtained an Israeli commitment not to target Christian towns in the south, unless armed party elements enter them.
But this formula places residents under a security condition beyond their control. Civilian villages are, in practice, required to guarantee what happens on their outskirts or within them, while decisions of war and targeting remain in the hands of armed actors and armies beyond the influence of local populations.
Field realities quickly exposed the limits of this arrangement. In March, the Israeli army said it had targeted a cell inside one of the southern Christian villages after detecting its entry. The incident was enough to remind residents that “neutralization” is not a fixed guarantee, and that any security breach could, in a single moment, turn the town from an exempted space into a potential target.
Waiting as a Way of Life
In Rmeish, the border town with a Christian majority, residents do not need the language of politics to express their suffering—the reality speaks more powerfully than words: limited movement, intermittent supplies, and basic services deteriorating under the pressure of war.
“The situation is very difficult,” says the mayor, Hanna al-Omail, to Alhurra. The hardship there is measured by residents’ ability to secure what they need to remain in the town—from food to water and electricity.
Al-Omail says aid does not arrive according to residents’ needs, but according to what is permitted to enter after coordination through the “mechanism.” Shipments sometimes enter and sometimes do not, with no fixed schedule, making access to basic necessities dependent on decisions and arrangements beyond residents’ control.
Since the early days of the war, electricity has been completely cut off, followed by disruptions to water supplies. With the two artesian wells that feed the town’s network out of service, water has shifted from a basic service to a daily concern, deepening Rmeish’s isolation and making it more costly for residents to remain.
Regarding food, residents and local officials say fruits and vegetables have almost entirely disappeared from the town for more than a month, while many rely on canned goods and grains. Over time, this diet becomes a health concern, especially for children, as food diversity declines and access to fresh alternatives becomes difficult.
Even infant formula is no longer consistently available. Some of it arrives through individual initiatives by expatriates from Rmeish, but its entry into the town remains subject to coordination and waiting, making such a basic need dependent on local efforts rather than a stable supply system.
Healthcare conditions are even more severe. The health sector operates within very narrow limits. Some organizations provide part of the medicines needed, but available treatments for chronic illnesses are insufficient. There is no hospital in Rmeish—only a clinic capable of handling primary cases. Critical cases must be transferred outside the town, and delays in evacuating a patient or the injured can turn the distance to the nearest treatment center into a decisive factor in survival.
“The future is unclear,” says al-Omail, stressing that the priority today is to secure a permanent humanitarian corridor linking the town to Beirut, restoring a minimum level of normal life.
In Ain Ebel, the population has declined due to the war. Mayor Ayoub Khreish told Alhurra that the number of residents dropped from about 2,200 to around 1,100, meaning half the town’s population has left.
This decline has changed the rhythm of life. Homes have closed, movement in the streets has diminished, and many families have preferred relocating to safer areas rather than living with nearby shelling and uncertainty over whether roads will remain open when needed.
To cope with this reality, water has been secured through a municipal well, electricity through generators, aid continued to arrive during ceasefires, and a field hospital was established. But these measures only sustain life at a minimum level, without restoring a sense of safety.
Shelling on the outskirts of the town has heightened residents’ fears after killing three people and destroying several homes, bringing danger closer to houses rather than remaining distant explosions.
“We hear the shelling and there is nothing we can do,” Khreish says.
In Debel, another border town, “no one enters and no one leaves,” says Mayor Aql Naddaf to Alhurra. Of about 1,700 residents, only three elderly individuals have left, as part of a convoy accompanying the Papal Nuncio Paolo Borgia.
Services are nearly halted, electricity is cut off, water is drawn from wells, drinking water arrives through aid, and shortages of bread, flour, and cleaning supplies are increasing.
There is no hospital in Debel, only a clinic with limited capacity. Many residents rely on relatives in Beirut to secure medication and send it when an opportunity arises.
Naddaf says shelling has struck the outskirts of the town, damaging homes and causing casualties. Those who have the chance to leave fear that their homes will be destroyed in their absence.
Absence of the State
What unites these villages is not only their border location. They share suffering caused by declining services, government absence, disrupted roads and supplies, and the movement of residents without safety guarantees.
The Maronite League has stressed that protecting the people of these villages falls within the responsibilities of the Lebanese state, as does sheltering and aiding the displaced. It called on the state not to abandon its authority and to conduct the necessary communications with UNIFIL and the “mechanism” committee to ensure protection for residents and open a vital road linking the villages with each other and with the rest of Lebanon.
MP Nazih Matta told Alhurra that the state is doing what it can, but conditions are “not easy at all.” He added that any deployment of the Lebanese army in some towns could expose it to risks, “especially since the ongoing battle is not the Lebanese state’s battle.” Matta believes that efforts to neutralize these villages were not limited to the state, but also involved political actors, particularly the Lebanese Forces party.
Meanwhile, the director of the Catholic Media Center, Monsignor Abdo Abu Kasm, believes the state should have prevented the south from reaching this situation from the outset, but that “the scale of the challenges exceeded its capacity.” He told Alhurra that the next phase requires a more effective state presence, particularly in reconstruction and in extending army authority across the entire south up to the border.
The Church… The Last Line of Support
In this vacuum, the Church has become one of the main support lines for border villages.
Abu Kasm says the Church “plays an active role in supporting southern villages, especially Christian towns along the border strip,” which Maronite Patriarch Cardinal Bechara al-Rahi describes as the “fence of the nation.”
He says this support arrives through relief convoys organized by Caritas Lebanon, the Fondation de L’Orient, and the Pontifical Mission, alongside other Christian organizations. These convoys move across the western, central, and eastern sectors, carrying food, fuel, medicines, as well as meat, vegetables, and fruits.
According to Abu Kasm, aid reaches towns such as Ain Ebel, Rmeish, Debel, Marjayoun, Qlayaa and their surroundings, as well as villages in the Zahrani area. He praised the role of the Vatican ambassador, who organizes and personally oversees relief convoys, taking risks to reach villages, deliver aid, and stand by priests. He also noted Patriarch al-Rahi’s visits to the region.
Changing the Map
Alongside current isolation, there is discussion of more dangerous scenarios, including the establishment of an Israeli security zone inside Lebanese territory, emptied of residents to prevent Hezbollah from rebuilding its military infrastructure near the border.
This scenario would mean evacuating towns or separating them from their surroundings, altering the demographic map of an area that has long lived under a delicate balance between villages, sects, and agricultural and family networks. Abu Kasm warns of “the possibility of separating border strip villages from their surroundings,” even though supply lines still exist through the “mechanism.”
He says that “the danger does not affect Christians alone, but includes all residents of the south,” while stressing that Christians in border villages remain “steadfast in their villages despite pressure and difficult conditions, and committed to staying on their land.”
MP Nazih Matta, however, says he does not see a “real danger” to the continuation of the Christian presence in these towns. He believes the resilience of Christian villages in the south represents a source of strength that could later help the state restore its full authority in the region.
The article is a translation of the original Arabic.
Asrar Chbaro
