Lebanon’s Brain Drain: 'I'm Never Coming Back'

People are pictured inside the terminal at Beirut International Airport Beirut, on January 27, 2020. (Photo by ANWAR AMRO / AFP)
People are pictured inside the terminal at Beirut International Airport Beirut, on January 27, 2020. (Photo by ANWAR AMRO / AFP)
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Lebanon’s Brain Drain: 'I'm Never Coming Back'

People are pictured inside the terminal at Beirut International Airport Beirut, on January 27, 2020. (Photo by ANWAR AMRO / AFP)
People are pictured inside the terminal at Beirut International Airport Beirut, on January 27, 2020. (Photo by ANWAR AMRO / AFP)

When Lebanon's protests erupted in October, thousands found a renewed commitment to their homeland and vowed to fix a country that has long fed its best and brightest to the diaspora.

Then the economy unraveled.

Students and young professionals who had mobilized en masse to demand better opportunities in their home country started filling in immigration forms and applying to universities abroad, Agence France Presse reported.

Mothers on bustling protest squares who had been complaining about their children living far away have since seen even more leave.

With no clear path out of Lebanon's worst economic crisis in decades, the will to remain has petered out and many are now scrambling for the exit.

"I'm leaving and I'm never coming back," said Youssef Nassar, a 29-year-old cinematographer who has booked a one-way ticket to Canada for next month.

"Nothing is going right in this country for me to stay here,” he told AFP.

Lebanon is suffering its worst economic crisis since the 1975-1990 civil war and everyone is feeling the heat. Scores of companies have closed, salaries have been slashed, and unemployment rates are skyrocketing.

Inflation doubled between October and November, according to Lebanon's Blominvest Bank, while the Lebanese pound has plunged by a third against the dollar in the parallel exchange market.

Nassar criticized the political class for failing to chart a way out of the crisis.

"I have developed a hate for this country," he said.

Nassar used to make a decent earning every month from shooting photo and video campaigns for fashion brands, advertising agencies and even English rock artist Steven Wilson. 

But since Lebanon's economic crisis accelerated with the start of anti-government protests in October, with banks temporarily closing and later severely limiting withdrawals, he has only been booked once.

Seven of his clients, including a high-profile member of the Lebanese parliament, have so far failed to pay the $25,000 they collectively owe him for previous projects.

"I want to work on my career and my future," said Nassar, who holds a Canadian passport. "I'm not willing to wait forever for the country to get better."

He is not the only one seeking better chances abroad.

Information International, an independent Lebanon-based research body, estimates that the number of Lebanese who left the country and did not return in 2019 jumped by 42 percent on the previous year.

Google searches from within Lebanon for the term "immigration" hit a five-year peak between November and December, according to Google Trends.

The last time the search term was that popular was right after Lebanon's 2006 war with Israel.

Immigration lawyers, for their part, say business is booming.

"Demand is up by at least 75 percent," said one immigration lawyer who asked not to be named to protect his business.

He said he is currently processing 25 applications.

Most are to Canada, which along with Australia is among the most popular destinations for Lebanese emigrants due to their demand for highly skilled people, the lawyer said. 

The bulk of his clients are educated youths and young professionals working in pharmaceuticals, information technology and finance.

"They are leaving because of the economic and political situation," he told AFP.

Decades of conflict, sluggish growth and corruption have prompted many Lebanese to emigrate -- a fact touted by Lebanese officials who boast the success of the country's expatriates.

Although there are no official figures, Lebanon's diaspora is estimated to be more than double the size of its domestic population of four million.

This chronic exodus has drawn the ire of demonstrators, who accuse politicians they view as corrupt of hijacking the country and forcing its people out.

"I had been thinking about leaving ever since I was 16 years old," said Fatima, an architect by training who is now 28.

"When the revolution started, that was the very first time I ever felt like I belonged, the very first time I ever felt that Lebanon's flag meant something to me."

But last month, Fatima lost a high-paying job at an international NGO after donors cut funding due to the crisis.

"This is when everything changed for me," she told AFP.

She found an immigration lawyer and is in the process of applying to emigrate to Canada -- something she is determined to complete.

"I'm tired of fighting all the time," she said.

"I don't think I will be failing my country if I leave," she added.

"I will be failing it if I stay and get more depressed and do nothing."



On Lebanon Border, Israel and Hezbollah’s Deadly Game of Patience

Smoke is seen as an unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) is intercepted following its launch from Lebanon, amid cross-border hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, at Kibbutz Eilon in northern Israel, July 23, 2024. (Reuters)
Smoke is seen as an unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) is intercepted following its launch from Lebanon, amid cross-border hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, at Kibbutz Eilon in northern Israel, July 23, 2024. (Reuters)
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On Lebanon Border, Israel and Hezbollah’s Deadly Game of Patience

Smoke is seen as an unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) is intercepted following its launch from Lebanon, amid cross-border hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, at Kibbutz Eilon in northern Israel, July 23, 2024. (Reuters)
Smoke is seen as an unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) is intercepted following its launch from Lebanon, amid cross-border hostilities between Hezbollah and Israeli forces, at Kibbutz Eilon in northern Israel, July 23, 2024. (Reuters)

In deserted villages and communities near the southern Lebanon border, Israeli troops and Hezbollah fighters have watched each other for months, shifting and adapting in a battle for the upper hand while they wait to see if a full scale war will come.

Ever since the start of the Gaza war last October, the two sides have exchanged daily barrages of rockets, artillery, missile fire and air strikes in a standoff that has just stopped short of full-scale war.

Tens of thousands have been evacuated from both sides of the border, and hopes that children may be able to return for the start of the new school year in September appear to have been dashed following an announcement by Israeli Education Minister Yoav Kisch on Tuesday that conditions would not allow it.

"The war is almost the same for the past nine months," Lieutenant Colonel Dotan, an Israeli officer, who could only be identified by his first name. "We have good days of hitting Hezbollah and bad days where they hit us. It's almost the same, all year, all the nine months."

As the summer approaches its peak, the smoke trails of drones and rockets in the sky have become a daily sight, with missiles regularly setting off brush fires in the thickly wooded hills along the border.

Israeli strikes have killed nearly 350 Hezbollah fighters in Lebanon and more than 100 civilians, including medics, children and journalists, while 10 Israeli civilians, a foreign agricultural worker and 20 Israeli soldiers have been killed.

Even so, as the cross border firing has continued, Israeli forces have been training for a possible offensive in Lebanon which would dramatically increase the risk of a wider regional war, potentially involving Iran and the United States.

That risk was underlined at the weekend when the Yemen-based Houthis, a militia which like Hezbollah is backed by Iran, sent a drone to Tel Aviv where it caused a blast that killed a man and prompted Israel to launch a retaliatory raid the next day.

Standing in his home kibbutz of Eilon, where only about 150 farmers and security guards remain from a normal population of 1,100, Lt. Colonet Dotan said the two sides have been testing each other for months, in a constantly evolving tactical battle.

"This war taught us patience," said Dotan. "In the Middle East, you need patience."

He said Israeli troops had seen an increasing use of Iranian drones, of a type frequently seen in Ukraine, as well as Russian-made Kornet anti tank missiles which were increasingly targeting houses as Israeli tank forces adapted their own tactics in response.

"Hezbollah is a fast-learning organization and they understood that UAVs (unmanned aerial vehicles) are the next big thing and so they went and bought and got trained in UAVs," he said.

Israel had responded by adapting its Iron Dome air defense system and focusing its own operations on weakening Hezbollah's organizational structure by attacking its experienced commanders, such as Ali Jaafar Maatuk, a field commander in the elite Radwan forces unit who was killed last week.

"So that's another weak point we found. We target them and we look for them on a daily basis," he said.

Even so, as the months have passed, the wait has not been easy for Israeli troops brought up in a doctrine of maneuver and rapid offensive operations.

"When you're on defense, you can't defeat the enemy. We understand that, we have no expectations," he said, "So we have to wait. It's a patience game."