At 1 am on Monday March 2, 2026, the phone rang in the home of Mohammad Mourad, a resident of the village of Ain Baal, near the city of Tyre, in South Lebanon. His brother was calling to inform him that Hezbollah had launched six rockets toward Israel, and the latter was vowing to retaliate. It did not take Mohammad long to decide to flee to Beirut for safety.
He hurriedly woke his wife and two children. They gathered what belongings and valuables they could carry and headed for Beirut. Under ordinary circumstances, the trip would’ve taken an hour and a half at most, but this time was different, as thousands of people were fleeing danger. It took them nearly 11 hours to get to the capital.
Then, on March 5, Israeli evacuation orders were issued for most areas of Beirut’s southern suburbs (Dahieh), home to hundreds of thousands of people, spreading panic among its residents and driving up the number of the displaced. The subsequent Israeli invasion of the South, with the stated intention of turning the whole area into a buffer zone, exacerbated the displacement crisis. Many found themselves without shelter, uncertain of where to go. Some slept in their cars or in Beirut’s public squares, while others moved between schools that had been turned into temporary shelters, in search of a place to stay.
The number of registered displaced persons in Lebanon has reached over 1.1 million people, roughly a fifth of the population, since the outbreak of the current war. Lebanon is facing this displacement crisis as it still reels from the effects of the 2024 war, which caused an estimated $14 billion in economic losses and displaced nearly 900,000 Lebanese citizens, many of whom remain unable to go back after Israel destroyed their towns and prevented return and reconstruction.
Israeli attacks during the current war, totaling over 5,800 operations, have killed 1,530 individuals and wounded over 4,800 as of April 7. Evacuation orders have covered all of the area south of the Litani River, which extends 30 kilometers to the Israeli border, and the entirety of Beirut’s southern suburbs. The orders also included villages and towns north of the Litani River and in northern Beqaa.
Officials say the state only has 30 percent of the funds required to meet the needs of the displaced
As of April 6, government-designated collective shelters had accommodated over 138,000 displaced people across 678 centers, highlighting the gap between the government’s response capacity and the scale of the crisis on the ground, despite ongoing efforts. Officials say the state only has 30 percent of the funds required to meet the needs of the displaced.
This gap pushed citizens and civil society organizations to launch dozens of initiatives to support the displaced communities, reviving efforts first mobilized during the 2024 war. Through the provision of food, shelter, and financial and in-kind aid, these initiatives reflect the pivotal roles that these communities have long played in navigating crises and learning to live through them over decades.
Absence and limited capacity
From the earliest moments of displacement, many felt the government’s limited ability to respond. Security forces did not intervene to open roads or organize traffic, turning the journey of displacement into what Nancy Obeid, displaced from the southern town of Saksakiyeh, around 60 kilometers from Beirut, described as a “form of punishment.”
“No one answers this simple question: Is the state, with all its institutions, unable to even organize traffic? We did not see one officer during our entire 16 hour journey,” she said.
While the state’s absence was felt in the initial hours, the government’s Disaster Management Unit attempted to provide emergency support, announcing the distribution of thousands of meals, mattresses, blankets, and personal supplies.
Ahmad Al Zein, who was displaced from the town of Qabrikha in the Nabatieh governorate to a shelter in Beirut, described his experience across both the 2024 war and the current one: “the assistance we receive, whether from the state or civil society organizations, is helpful. Mattresses and pillows were provided as soon as we arrived at the shelter, but our needs are far greater than that.”
“I’m a public sector employee, and like many others, I’ve been struggling financially since 2019. The wars have only deepened that hardship. No matter the amount of aid provided, it will not cover all our needs,” he added.
Hussein, another displaced resident in a Beirut shelter, said that he and his family slept on the floor due to the lack of bedding. “Displaced families, especially those staying in shelters, simply cannot afford the high cost of displacement,” he said, “especially if the war continues for a prolonged period.”
Filling the gap
The current war has reactivated many initiatives that first emerged during the 2024 war, including one led by Elissar Loghamji. She was able to raise over $100,000 in aid, offering medication, clothes, pillows, mattresses, food parcels and meals for those who were displaced. The initiative primarily targeted displaced people in private homes. When the current war broke out, Elissar relaunched the efforts, and is currently providing necessary aid to displaced people, along with volunteers who joined her initiative.
The current war has reactivated many initiatives that first emerged during the 2024 war
Elissar’s initiative intersects with that of Ibrahim Al Kadi, a volunteer who has taken it upon himself to respond to the gaps left by the state in times of crisis—from the Syrian refugee crisis that started in 2011, to the Beirut Port explosion in 2020, and now the wars of 2024 and 2026.
“What we are doing should be the responsibility of the state, but we cannot wait while needs continue to grow and no real effective plan is in place,” he said. “People working in humanitarian relief now know each other and quickly coordinate to support one another as much as possible.”
Working independently, Ibrahim collects donations from friends in the diaspora and their networks, distributing them as in-kind assistance. His work is not limited to a specific geographical location. “I try to help anyone who gets in touch with me, or connect them with someone who can,” he said.
Displaced people contact him through social media or by phone, often through referrals from others or organizations. During the 2024 war, Ibrahim distributed $9,000 worth of aid. As for the current war, he was able to gather around $15,000 in donations that he is using to buy clothes, food, fuel, and other necessary items.
Sectarian tensions
Ibrahim explained that “the sectarian tension spreading on social media platforms does not reflect reality. Many citizens, despite their political differences, are providing assistance to the displaced regardless of their political situation, and these citizens are present across all regions in Lebanon.”
This tension, often amplified through posts and videos that attract thousands of views, competes with people’s mobilization on the ground. Across Lebanon, communities of different backgrounds have welcomed displaced families.
One example comes from Ali Alawieh, a young man displaced from Beirut’s southern suburbs, who described how he was received in the northern city of Tripoli: “from the moment I arrived, shop owners could tell I was displaced. God is my witness, I heard nothing but kind words, ‘You are our people; this is your area too, tell us anything you need’, and many other words of welcome.”
This spirit of solidarity and mutual support manifests itself in the darkest of times
This spirit of solidarity and mutual support manifests itself in the darkest of times. It is striking that through every humanitarian crisis, like the explosion at the Beirut Port, or the successive wars, community initiatives emerge that bring together hundreds of Lebanese to form the main support that fills the gap left by official institutions’ limited capacities.
These initiatives are not only limited to individuals, but also extend to private institutions. In central Beirut’s Hamra neighborhood, the cafe and restaurant Barzakh began preparing daily meals and distributing them to shelters in cooperation with the NGO Ahla Fawda. This initiative also began during the 2024 war, when the restaurant’s operations manager Khodr Al Akhdar posted on social media accounts announcing the preparation of 100 meals for displaced families.
“I posted it and went to sleep,” he recalled. “The next day, I was surprised by the overwhelming response and the large number of people who wanted to contribute. Instead of preparing 100 meals, we made 800, and then we went on to make 2,500 meals per day.”
Khodr is now producing 2,500 meals daily for distribution across shelters. He noted that as long as donations are coming in, he will continue with the effort. “What really stayed with me was that after the 2024 war, so many of these displaced people wrote to me, inviting me to visit them in their towns and villages.” He added that these invitations broke ‘the psychological barrier’ he felt, and allowed him to form close relationships with many people from different parts of Lebanon that he did not know well before.
More is needed
These initiatives, whether led by individuals or civil society organizations, help alleviate the suffering of displaced families. Yet they remain insufficient to meet the growing needs, especially if the war continues and displacement turns long term. This makes stronger state intervention and an expanded role in providing social protection all the more urgent.
Karim Safieddine, political coordinator for the Mada Network, explained that the network works with partners through a shared space called Beit Aam, where they collect in-kind donations such as clothing, blankets, and food, and distribute them to shelters. Much of this work relies on fundraising through social media.
“What we are doing is an attempt to support displaced families and complement the government’s efforts, particularly through the Disaster Management Unit, by delivering aid to the shelters it has established,” he said. “Despite the volume of assistance we provide to fill the gaps, needs remain far greater than the available resources.”
These needs are likely to grow as the war drags on. With each new evacuation order, the displacement crisis deepens, further compounding the suffering of a population already drained by economic collapse, internal tensions, and successive waves of displacement since the 2024 war.
The only way out of this crisis is to end the war, but until that happens, the support of initiatives working on the ground is a primary factor in relieving suffering.
Mahdi Krayem is a Lebanese journalist and researcher covering political and social affairs.