The shape of Eid al-Adha has changed for many Lebanese as the war continues, along with the escalation, warnings, and daily anxiety accompanying it. Security developments resulting from the conflict have disrupted family gatherings that have become increasingly limited, while fear and anxiety continue to deepen despite attempts to preserve what remains of Eid traditions.
Lebanese speak of what resembles a slow “psychological death” caused by the ongoing developments, a feeling not limited to those displaced from the south and Beirut’s southern suburbs, but extending to Lebanese across different regions.
Relentless Fear
Ramia Salman says last Eid al-Adha and this year’s holiday no longer carry the same meanings of joy for many Lebanese, as the atmosphere has become more associated with fear than with the happiness that once accompanied such occasions.
She adds: “Last Eid al-Adha, as with this year’s Eid, the scene felt completely different from what we had known for many years. Holidays were always associated with preparing for family visits, buying Eid necessities, welcoming relatives, and even the small details that gave people a different feeling about the occasion. But what is happening today has greatly changed that feeling.”
She told Asharq Al-Awsat: “Two days before Eid, especially with the escalation witnessed in the western Bekaa, we felt deep fear from the very idea of Eid itself. Instead of waiting for the occasion with joy, we found ourselves simply hoping these days would pass safely. The concern is no longer how we will spend Eid or celebrate it, but how we will get through this phase safely.”
She believes even the traditions of Eid eve have changed noticeably, saying: “Eid night was always a space for joy, movement in the markets, family gatherings, and the feeling that there was an occasion everyone was waiting for. Today the scene has changed dramatically. Gatherings have shifted from meetings tied to joy into gatherings dominated by anxiety, fear, and questions.”
She adds: “Sometimes we feel as though the Israeli army is constantly manipulating our nervous system. The issue is not only related to airstrikes or direct attacks, but to the permanent state of anticipation imposed on people.”
She continues: “Fear and panic are no longer temporary feelings tied to a specific moment. They have become part of daily life. Sometimes we feel we are not just living in fear of a particular event, but enduring a form of continuous internal exhaustion, as if something inside a person is gradually fading away.”
The Meaning of Eid
For her part, Zeinab Tahmaz says holidays had already begun losing part of their traditions in recent years, but the war accelerated that transformation even further.
She told Asharq Al-Awsat that “since last Eid al-Adha, the atmosphere has been almost nonexistent.” Recalling scenes from last year, she says: “At the time, warnings were issued and we saw how many areas, especially in the southern suburbs, were evacuated. That was proof that people no longer had the desire to go out or even visit their villages.”
She continues: “We had the scent of Eid, the village, our grandfather’s house, and family gatherings. These were things we once took for granted. But this year, even those things have been taken away from us.”
She says: “Sometimes I feel the war is not only taking away our sense of safety or the atmosphere itself, but also our ability to feel things the same way. The things we once waited for with excitement are no longer awaited in the same way.”
Fear Changed Eid Plans
Ali Al-Husseini says the escalation has not only changed the atmosphere of Eid, but also altered personal and family decisions that once seemed settled.
He told Asharq Al-Awsat: “I had planned to spend Eid with my family in the Bekaa, and the idea was tied to returning, even briefly, to the atmosphere we used to know.” He noted that “the escalation in the days leading up to Eid had the exact opposite psychological effect. Instead of making us think about Eid, it created feelings of fear and anxiety.”
He says: “I decided to remain with my children in our place of displacement in Mount Lebanon out of fear of any new escalation or warnings, and concern that developments could spiral in a way that would prevent me from returning to Beirut for medical treatment.”
A Slow Death
Saeed Shehab believes the war has not only stripped people of the details of Eid, but also forced them to reconsider even the things that once seemed self-evident.
He told Asharq Al-Awsat: “Under these circumstances, Eid itself feels absent, whether there is a warning or not,” adding: “People have started clinging to the simplest things and saying thank God they still have a house they can sit in, a house that has not been destroyed and where they are still able to remain.”
He continues: “Beyond the feeling that you have already been deprived of many things, you hear reports about the possibility that the area where you are staying could be targeted, and you feel that even the last sense of safety you cling to could be taken away from you.”
He says: “You can lose your hometown, lose people and details that once meant something to you, and then feel that even the house giving you some reassurance could also become threatened.”
He adds: “The problem is not only what is happening outside, but what remains inside a person. A person does not only lose a house or a place, but sometimes feels they are losing part of themselves as well. There is sorrow that remains inside them, and psychological exhaustion that accumulates, as though over time you are living through a kind of slow death of the feelings and things that once gave you hope or a sense of life.”
