Lebanese Whose Homes Were Destroyed in the War Want to Rebuild. Many Face a Long Wait

FILE - A man pauses as he looks at destroyed buildings in Dahiyeh, Beirut, Lebanon, Nov. 29, 2024. (AP Photo/Bilal Hussein, File)
FILE - A man pauses as he looks at destroyed buildings in Dahiyeh, Beirut, Lebanon, Nov. 29, 2024. (AP Photo/Bilal Hussein, File)
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Lebanese Whose Homes Were Destroyed in the War Want to Rebuild. Many Face a Long Wait

FILE - A man pauses as he looks at destroyed buildings in Dahiyeh, Beirut, Lebanon, Nov. 29, 2024. (AP Photo/Bilal Hussein, File)
FILE - A man pauses as he looks at destroyed buildings in Dahiyeh, Beirut, Lebanon, Nov. 29, 2024. (AP Photo/Bilal Hussein, File)

Six weeks into a ceasefire that halted the war between Israel and Hezbollah, many displaced Lebanese whose homes were destroyed in the fighting want to rebuild — but reconstruction and compensation are slow in coming, The Associated Press reported.
Large swaths of southern and eastern Lebanon, as well as Beirut’s southern suburbs, lie in ruins, tens of thousands of houses reduced to rubble in Israeli airstrikes. The World Bank estimated in a report in November — before the ceasefire later that month — that losses to Lebanon's infrastructure amount to some $3.4 billion.
In the south, residents of dozens of villages along the Lebanon-Israel border can't go back because Israeli soldiers are still there. Under the US-negotiated ceasefire deal, Israeli forces are supposed to withdraw by Jan. 26 but there are doubts they will.
Other terms of the deal are also uncertain — after Hezbollah's withdrawal, the Lebanese army is to step in and dismantle the militants' combat positions in the south. Israeli officials have complained the Lebanese troops are not moving in fast enough — to which they say the Israeli troops need to get out first.
Reconstruction prospects — and who will foot the bill — remain unclear.
In 2006, after the monthlong Israel-Hezbollah war, Hezbollah financed much of the $2.8 billion reconstruction with ally Iran's support.
The Lebanese militant group has said it would do so again and has begun making some payments. But Hezbollah, which is also a powerful political party, has suffered significant losses in this latest war and for its part, Iran is now mired in a crippling economic crisis.
The cash-strapped and long paralyzed Lebanese government is in little position to help and international donors may be stretched by the post-war needs in the Gaza Strip and neighboring Syria.
Many Lebanese say they are waiting for Hezbollah's promised compensation. Others say they received some money from the group — much less than the cost of the damage to their homes.
Manal, a 53-year-old mother of four from the southern village of Marjayoun has been displaced with her family for over a year, since Hezbollah began firing rockets into Israel on Oct. 8, 2023, in support of its ally Hamas in Gaza.
Israel responded with shelling and airstrikes in southern Lebanon. In July, Manal's family heard that their home was destroyed. The family has now sought compensation from Hezbollah.
“We haven’t received any money yet,” said Manal, giving only her first name for fear of reprisals. “Maybe our turn hasn’t arrived."
On a recent day in southern Beirut, where airstrikes had hit just 100 meters (yards) away from his home, Mohammad watched as an excavator cleared debris, dust swirling in the air.
He said his father went to Hezbollah officials and got $2,500 — not enough to cover $4,000 worth of damage to their home.
“Dad took the money and left, thinking it was pointless to argue,” said Mohammad, who also gave only his first name for fear of repercussions. He said his uncle was offered only $194 for a similarly damaged home.
When the uncle complained, Mohammad said, Hezbollah asked him, “We sacrificed our blood, what did you do in the war?”
Others, however, say Hezbollah has compensated them fairly.
Abdallah Skaiki, whose home — also in southern Beirut — was completely destroyed, said he received $14,000 from Qard Al-Hasan, a Hezbollah-linked microfinance institution.
Hussein Khaireddine, director of Jihad Binaa, the construction arm of Hezbollah, said the group is doing as much as it can. Its teams have surveyed over 80% of damaged houses across Lebanon, he said.
“We have begun compensating families,” he said. “We have also started providing payments for a year’s rent and compensations for furniture.”
Khaireddin said their payments include $8,000 for furniture and $6,000 for a year’s rent for those living in Beirut. Those who are staying elsewhere get $4,000 in money for rent.
Blueprints for each house are being prepared, he said, declining to elaborate on reconstruction plans.
“We are not waiting for the government," he added. “But of course, we urge the state to act."
There is little the government can do.
The World Bank's report from mid-November said Lebanon's infrastructure and economic losses from the war amount to $8.5 billion. And that estimate doesn't take into account the last month of the war, Deputy Prime Minister Saadi Chami told The Associated Press.
“The government does not have the financial resources for reconstruction,” he said bluntly.
The World Bank said 99,209 housing units were damaged — and 18% of them were completely destroyed. In southern Beirut suburbs alone, satellite analysis by Lebanon’s National Center for Natural Hazards and Early Warning identified 353 buildings completely destroyed and over 6,000 homes damaged.
Lebanese officials have appealed to the international community for funding. The government is working with the World Bank to get an updated damage assessment and hopes to set up a multi-donor trust fund.
The World Bank is also exploring an “emergency project for Lebanon,” focused on targeted assistance for areas most in need, Chami said, though no concrete plan has yet emerged.
“If the World Bank gets involved, it will hopefully encourage the international community to donate money,” Chami said.
Ali Daamoush, a Hezbollah official, said earlier this month that the group has mobilized 145 reconstruction teams, which include 1,250 engineers, 300 data analysts and hundreds of auditors — many apparently volunteers.
The compensations paid so far have come from “the Iranian people,” Daamoush said, without specifying if the money was from Iran's government or private donors.
Jana, a 29-year-old architect, is volunteering with Hezbollah teams to survey the damage to her hometown of Nabatiyeh in southern Lebanon. Much of the city is destroyed, including an Ottoman-era market. Her father’s warehouse was hit by airstrikes, and all the medical supplies stored there were consumed by a fire.
Hezbollah officials "told us not to promise people or discuss reconstruction because there is no clear plan or funding for it yet,” she told the AP. She did not give her last name because she wasn't authorized to talk about Hezbollah's actions.



Syrians Integrated in Germany Face Uncertainty Over Return

Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)
Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)
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Syrians Integrated in Germany Face Uncertainty Over Return

Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)
Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)

Twelve years after his famous selfie with then-German Chancellor Angela Merkel, Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees, appears at ease in his adopted homeland.

At the time, Modamani had no idea who Merkel was when he snapped the photo during her visit to the asylum center where he was staying. Today, however, he feels as deeply connected to Germany as he does to his homeland, Syria.

Modamani, like many Syrians who fled to Germany after the 2011 uprising, faces a tough decision: stay in Germany or return to Syria.

With hopes of a post-Assad era, Modamani, originally from Daraya near Damascus, plans to visit his family in Syria and help rebuild their home.

“I want to split my time between Germany and Syria and start projects in both countries,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“Damascus is the most beautiful city on earth, but I love Germany, and Berlin is my second home.”

Modamani has fully embraced life in Germany, learning the language, gaining citizenship, joining the workforce, and building a relationship with Anna, a Ukrainian woman.

His German passport makes it easier to plan trips back to Syria without worrying about losing his residency or legal status in Germany.

Modamani is among nearly 260,000 Syrian refugees who have obtained German citizenship. However, more than 700,000 Syrians in Germany remain on asylum or temporary protection permits—status that could be revoked if conditions in Syria improve.

The shifting situation in Damascus has left Syrian refugees and German authorities in limbo. Decisions on 47,000 migration applications from Syrians have been paused as officials wait for more clarity.

Germany’s asylum policies were based on fears of war and persecution. With those fears easing after the fall of Assad, the legal basis for granting protection may no longer exist.

The uncertainty has sparked political debate. Some politicians, including Social Democrats in the ruling government, have called for changes to asylum rules.

Interior Minister Nancy Faeser suggested keeping refugees who are integrated or employed while deporting others.

Talk of deporting Syrian refugees in Germany seems tied to the upcoming February 23 elections.

While temporary residency permits can be revoked, Syria must first be declared “safe and stable” by the Foreign Ministry—a process that could take years.

Even with delays in Germany labeling Syria “safe,” most Syrian refugees show little interest in returning. Before Assad’s fall, 94% said they wanted to stay, according to the Federal Office for Migration and Refugees.

The longer refugees live in Germany, the stronger their ties become. Many arrived over five years ago, with some having spent a decade in the country.

Siamand Osman, a Syrian Kurdish refugee from Qamishli, has been in Germany for 11 years. He learned the language, gained citizenship, and built a life, even though most of his family remains in Syria. For now, he has no plans to go back.

Osman told Asharq Al-Awsat that the situation in Kurdish areas of Syria is still unstable.

“I want to return—my family is there—but I hope all sides in Syria can agree and bring peace to our region,” he said.

Osman’s biggest fear is the return of war.

“Imagine leaving everything behind, selling my belongings, and going back to Syria, only to have the war start again and force me to flee once more,” he says. Despite this, he is determined to return when the situation improves.

Economic instability is another key factor contributing to Syrians’ reluctance to return home. Alaa Muhrez, who arrived in Germany in 2015, explained that the economic situation in Syria plays a significant role in her decision.

She told Asharq Al-Awsat that she “rebuilt her life from scratch.”

After learning the language and training in her profession as an accountant, Muhrez is now working in her field and has gained German citizenship.

Despite her strong optimism for Syria’s future, Muhrez, originally from Homs, remains cautious about the situation there and the country’s potential trajectory in the coming years.

She fears leaving her job and home in Berlin, only to return to Syria and struggle to find suitable employment.

For Syrian families, the decision to stay or return is even more difficult. Many arrived with children who have forgotten Arabic and spent years learning German.

Anas Fahd, from Sweida, came to Germany almost three years ago with his family and teenage son. He still holds a temporary protection permit and works as an electrical engineer.

“It’s too early to decide about returning,” Fahd told Asharq Al-Awsat. His son has been learning German for a year and is doing well in school in Berlin. “It would be hard to send him back to Syria, where he’d have to waste another year relearning Arabic.”

Even newcomers like Basel Hussein, who arrived in Berlin on the day Assad fell, have no plans to go back. Hussein, who paid over 13,000 euros to be smuggled into Germany, says he won’t return now.

“The situation is still unclear with new decisions every day,” Hussein said. “I’d rather start fresh in Germany than return to an uncertain future in Syria.”

It’s not only Syrians who are hesitant to return—many Germans worry about losing a key part of the workforce, especially those filling important roles.

Over 5,000 Syrian doctors work in German hospitals, making them the largest group of foreign doctors. Many others work in sectors with labor shortages, like nursing, construction, and hospitality.

It takes an average of seven years for Syrians to enter the labor market as they learn the language and validate their qualifications. Syrians are filling vital roles, but unemployment remains high, particularly for women.

Unions representing doctors and workers have warned against calls for quick deportations, fearing it could harm the labor market.

Manfred Lucha, health minister in Baden-Württemberg, where many Syrian doctors work, warned that if they leave, it would create a huge gap in the healthcare sector. The state’s hospital association also said losing Syrian healthcare workers would be a significant blow.