Thousands of Exploding Devices in Lebanon Trigger a Nation That Has Been on Edge for Years 

Police officers inspect a car inside of which a hand-held pager exploded, Beirut, on Sept. 17, 2024. (AP)
Police officers inspect a car inside of which a hand-held pager exploded, Beirut, on Sept. 17, 2024. (AP)
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Thousands of Exploding Devices in Lebanon Trigger a Nation That Has Been on Edge for Years 

Police officers inspect a car inside of which a hand-held pager exploded, Beirut, on Sept. 17, 2024. (AP)
Police officers inspect a car inside of which a hand-held pager exploded, Beirut, on Sept. 17, 2024. (AP)

Chris Knayzeh was in a town overlooking Lebanon's capital when he heard the rumbling aftershock of the 2020 Beirut port blast. Hundreds of tons of haphazardly stored ammonium nitrates had exploded, killing and injuring thousands of people.

Already struggling with the country’s economic collapse, the sight of the gigantic mushroom cloud unleashed by the blast was the last straw. Like many other Lebanese, he quit his job and booked a one-way ticket out of Lebanon.

Knayzeh was in Lebanon visiting when news broke Tuesday that hundreds of handheld pagers had exploded across the country, killing 12, injuring thousands and setting off fires. Israel, local news reports said, was targeting the devices of the armed Hezbollah group. Stuck in Beirut traffic, Knayzeh started panicking that drivers around him could potentially be carrying devices that would explode.

Within minutes, hospitals were flooded with patients, bringing back painful reminders of the port blast four years ago that killed more than 200 people and injured more than 6,000, leaving enduring mental and psychological scars for those who lived through it.

In total, the explosions of pagers and walkie-talkies over two days killed at least 37 people and injured more than 3,000. Israel is widely believed to be behind the blasts, although it has neither confirmed nor denied responsibility.

“The country's state is unreal,” Knayzeh told The Associated Press.

The port blast was one of the biggest non-nuclear explosions ever recorded, and it came on top of a historic economic meltdown, financial collapse and a feeling of helplessness after nationwide protests against corruption that failed to achieve their goals. It compounded years of crises that have upended the lives of people in this small country.

Four years after the port catastrophe, an investigation has run aground. The ravaged Mediterranean port remains untouched, its towering silos standing broken and shredded as a symbol of a country in ruins. Political divisions and paralysis have left the country without a president or functioning government for more than two years. Poverty is on the rise.

On top of that and in parallel with Israel’s war in Gaza, Lebanon has been on the brink of all-out war with Israel for the past year, with Israel and Hezbollah trading fire and Israeli warplanes breaking the sound barrier over Beirut almost daily, terrorizing people in their homes and offices.

“I can’t believe this is happening again. How many more disasters must we endure?” said Jocelyn Hallak, a mother of three, two of whom now work abroad and the third headed out after graduation next year. “All this pain, when will it end?”

A full-blown war with Israel could be devastating for Lebanon. The country’s crisis-battered health care system had been preparing for the possibility of conflict with Israel even before hospitals became inundated with the wounded from the latest explosions, many of them in critical condition and requiring extended hospital stays.

Still, Knayzeh, now a lecturer at a university in France, can't stay away. He returns regularly to see his girlfriend and family. He flinches whenever he hears construction work and other sudden loud sounds. When in France, surrounded by normalcy, he agonizes over family at home while following the ongoing clashes from afar.

“It’s the attachment to our country I guess, or at the very least attachment to our loved ones who couldn’t leave with us,” he said.

This summer, tens of thousands of Lebanese expatriates came to visit family and friends despite the tensions. Their remittances and money they spend during the holidays help keep the country afloat and in some cases are the main source of income for families. Many, however, cut their vacations short in chaotic airport scenes, fearing major escalation after the dual assassinations of Hezbollah and Hamas commanders in Beirut and Tehran last month, blamed on Israel.

Even in a country that has vaulted from one crisis to another for decades, the level of confusion, insecurity and anger is reaching new heights. Many thought the port blast was the most surreal and frightening thing they would ever experience — until thousands of pagers exploded in people’s hands and pockets across the country this week.

“I saw horrific things that day,” said Mohammad al-Mousawi, who was running an errand in Beirut’s southern suburb, where Hezbollah has a strong presence, when the pagers began blowing up.

“Suddenly, we started seeing scooters whizzing by carrying defaced men, some without fingers, some with their guts spilling out. Then the ambulances started coming.”

It reminded him of the 2020 port blast, he said. “The number of injuries and ambulances was unbelievable.”

“One more horror shaping our collective existence,” wrote Maha Yahya, the Beirut-based director of the Malcolm H. Kerr Carnegie Middle East Center.

“The shock, the disarray, the trauma is reminiscent of Beirut after the port explosion. Only this time it was not limited to a city but spread across the country,” she said in a social media post.

In the aftermath of the exploding pagers, fear and paranoia has taken hold. Parents kept their children away from schools and universities, fearing more exploding devices. Organizations including the Lebanese civil defense advised personnel to switch off their devices and remove all batteries until further notice. One woman said she disconnected her baby monitor and other household appliances.

Lebanon’s civil aviation authorities have banned the transporting of pagers and walkie-talkies on all airplanes departing from Beirut’s Rafik Hariri International Airport “until further notice.” Some residents were sleeping with their phones in another room.

In the southern city of Tyre, ahead of a speech by Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah, city resident Hassan Hajo acknowledged feeling “a bit depressed” after the pager blasts, a major security breach for a secretive organization like Hezbollah. He was hoping to get a boost from Nasrallah’s speech. “We have been through worse before and we got through it,” he said.

In his speech, Nasrallah vowed to retaliate against Israel for the attacks on devices, while Israel and Hezbollah traded heavy fire across the border. Israel stepped up warnings of a potential larger military operation targeting the group.

Another resident, Marwan Mahfouz, said Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has been threatening Lebanon with war for the past year and he should just do it.

“If we are going to die, we’ll die. We are already dying. We are already dead,” he said.



Gazans Struggle to Imagine Post-war Recovery

Palestinians search for survivors amid the rubble of a building, which collapsed after Israeli bombardment on a building adjacent to it, in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood in Gaza City on September 23, 2024, amid the ongoing war between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)
Palestinians search for survivors amid the rubble of a building, which collapsed after Israeli bombardment on a building adjacent to it, in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood in Gaza City on September 23, 2024, amid the ongoing war between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)
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Gazans Struggle to Imagine Post-war Recovery

Palestinians search for survivors amid the rubble of a building, which collapsed after Israeli bombardment on a building adjacent to it, in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood in Gaza City on September 23, 2024, amid the ongoing war between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)
Palestinians search for survivors amid the rubble of a building, which collapsed after Israeli bombardment on a building adjacent to it, in the Sheikh Radwan neighborhood in Gaza City on September 23, 2024, amid the ongoing war between Israel and the Hamas group. (AFP)

The sheer scale of destruction from the deadliest war in Gaza's history has made the road to recovery difficult to imagine, especially for people who had already lost their homes during previous conflicts.

After an Israeli strike levelled his family home in Gaza City in 2014, 37-year-old Mohammed Abu Sharia made good on his pledge to return to the same plot within less than a year.

The process was not perfect: the grant they received paid for only two floors instead of the original four.

But they happily called it home until it came under aerial assault again last October, following Hamas's attack on southern Israel.

This time, the family could not flee in time and five people were killed, four of them children.

The rest remain displaced nearly a year later, scattered across Gaza and in neighboring Egypt.

"A person puts all his life's hard work into building a house, and suddenly it becomes a mirage," Abu Sharia told AFP.

"If the war stops, we will build again in the same place because we have nothing else."

With bombs still raining down on Gaza, many of the Palestinian territory's 2.4 million people will face the same challenge as Abu Sharia: how to summon the resources and energy necessary for another round of rebuilding.

"The pessimism is coming from bad experiences with reconstruction in the past, and the different scale of this current destruction," said Ghassan Khatib, a former planning minister.

That has not stopped people from trying to plan ahead.

Some focus on the immediate challenges of removing rubble and getting their children back in school after nearly a year of suspended classes.

Others dream of loftier projects: building a port, a Palestinian film industry, or even recruiting a globally competitive football team.

But with no ceasefire in sight, analysts say most long-term planning is premature.

"It's sort of like putting icing on a cake that's not yet fully baked," said Brian Katulis of the Middle East Institute in Washington.

It could take 80 years to rebuild some 79,000 destroyed homes, the United Nations special rapporteur on the right to housing said in May.

A UN report in July said workers could need 15 years just to clear the rubble.

The slow responses to past Gaza wars in 2008-9, 2012, 2014 and 2021 give little reason for confidence that rebounding from this one will be any smoother, said Omar Shaban, founder of the Gaza-based think tank PalThink for Strategic Studies.

The Israeli blockade of Gaza, imposed after Hamas took control of the territory in 2007, remains firmly in place, sharply restricting access to building materials.

"People are fed up," Shaban said.

"They lost their faith even before the war."

Despite the hopelessness, Shaban is among those putting forward more imaginative strategies for Gaza's postwar future.

Earlier this year he published an article suggesting initial reconstruction work could focus on 10 neighborhoods -– one inside and one outside refugee camps in each of Gaza's five governorates.

The idea would be to ensure the benefits of reconstruction are seen across the besieged territory, he told AFP.

"I want to create hope. People need to realize that their suffering is going to end" even if not right away, he said.

"Otherwise they will become radical."

Hope is also a major theme of Palestine Emerging, an initiative that has suggested building a port on an artificial island made of war debris, a technical university for reconstruction, and a Gaza-West Bank transportation corridor.

Other proposals have included launching a tourism campaign, building a Palestinian film industry, and recruiting a football squad.

"Maybe when you look on some of these, you would think they are, you know, dreams or something," Palestine Emerging executive director Shireen Shelleh said from her office in Ramallah in the Israeli-occupied West Bank.

"However, I believe if you don't dream then you cannot achieve anything. So even if some people might find it ambitious or whatever, in my opinion that's a good thing."

Khatib, the former planning minister, said it was not the time for such proposals.

"I think people should be more realistic," he said.

"The urgent aspects are medicine, food, shelter, schools."