Lebanon Endures Severe Wave of Human Capital Flight

Medical staff at the entrance of the AUBMC (AFP).
Medical staff at the entrance of the AUBMC (AFP).
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Lebanon Endures Severe Wave of Human Capital Flight

Medical staff at the entrance of the AUBMC (AFP).
Medical staff at the entrance of the AUBMC (AFP).

It may seem that all the losses that Lebanon has been incurring for nearly two years as a result of the economic and social crises are remediable, if the country is put on the right reform track in the coming years. All losses can be compensated... But the severe brain drain will leave resounding repercussions in Lebanese society, threatening the country with a bleak future.

The new wave of emigration that the country has been witnessing since 2019, which started with the collapse of the banking sector and the seizure of depositors’ money, was - until mid-2020 - understandable and expected, to some extent. However, with the Beirut Port explosion on Aug. 4, 2020, which destroyed half of the capital and claimed more than 200 lives and thousands of wounded, this wave turned into a sweeping “tsunami.” As soon as it calmed down, it strongly resumed as the crisis hit rock bottom, with the lack of all the necessities of life, such as bread, water, petrol, gas, baby formula and medicine.

The situation of “hell” left the people of this country with no choice but to flee... Looking closer into this wave of emigration, one can see that the largest number of “fugitives” are from the elite: the talents and brains that no longer find in Lebanon a fertile ground for their ambitions and dreams.

The flight of human capital mainly affects the medical sector, with hundreds of doctors, nurses and medical staff emigrating in the past two years. All unions agree that they do not have any specific and precise number of those leaving the country, but rely on estimates.

Elie Ghosn, 22, from the northern border town of Andakt, left Lebanon about a month ago to complete his university studies in France after receiving a scholarship for excellence in engineering. He is not thinking of returning to settle in his homeland. Although a few weeks have passed since he left Lebanon, he noticed the huge difference in the lifestyle and the services provided by the state there in exchange for the basic necessities of life lost in his home country.

The ambitious young man is looking forward to obtaining French citizenship. He sees many opportunities in France, “where universities offer not only excellent education, but the development of the human being psychologically, physically and socially, which we lack in most universities in Lebanon.”

Noha Antoun has raised a relatively large family of four children. She loves to be surrounded by her children and grandchildren. But after years of family devotion, she is now deprived of this warmth. Three of her children emigrated in the past few years. The last of them is Aziz, the youngest, who left Lebanon last year. He is a computer engineer who is now working in Amsterdam after many successes in more than one Lebanese institution.

“They left one after the other. Only my eldest son remained… But I very much fear that he would follow the same path,” Noha told Asharq Al-Awsat.

She added: “There is no doubt that we cannot ask them to stay here, for there is no basis for survival ... As for me and their father, we will not leave our house despite all the difficulties, and it will remain a gathering place for them on holidays and occasions.”

A “Systematic theft” Of Brains and Competencies

Perhaps the most dangerous of all of the above is the attempt by foreign institutions to take advantage of the Lebanese tragedy to hunt down the competencies and skilled workforce in all sectors. This was evident with the tendency of more than one institution to persuade doctors, nurses, and medical staff to leave the country, by offering them “attractive packages” as a result of the sharp collapse in the exchange rate of the Lebanese pound against the US dollar.

This trend is not limited to the medical sector. The president of the University of Balamand, Dr. Elias Warrak, goes further, speaking to Asharq Al-Awsat about “systematic theft of outstanding students and professors” by “universities and scientific centers abroad that we have been cooperating with for years.”

“What’s sad is that the packages, which were offered to these people years ago, are no longer available. Today, the packages are half that value… they are stealing the Lebanese brains and talents cheaply,” he remarked.

Warrak noted that the latest figures indicate that 75 percent of Lebanese students are waiting for the opportunity to emigrate and between 10 and 15 percent of professors have left the country.

“What we are witnessing is a real massacre... Everything can be compensated for except for brain drain... It seems clear that there is an intention and will for the systematic destruction of the country, and it is no longer permissible for us to remain silent about this dangerous reality,” he underlined.

Upcoming Waves

Professor of Politics and Planning at the American University of Beirut (AUB) and supervisor of the Crisis Monitor, Dr. Nasser Yassin, pointed out that Lebanon had historically exported brains and human capital, but of course not in the current numbers.”

Yassin told Asharq Al-Awsat about three important sectors that are losing their human resources: The health sector, which is witnessing a structural crisis and an inability to continue its normal functioning. Second, the educational sector, which is experiencing major repercussions of the crisis.

According to Yassin, around 200 doctors working at the AUB and the university hospital (AUBMC) have left or took an open-ended leave.

“We expect these numbers to rise with the beginning of the new academic year, as many educational institutions will be forced to close or witness a major downturn,” he said.

The third sector is the banking sector, as a large number of branches were closed and hundreds of employees laid off.

“This sector needs years to be able to rise again,” Yassin noted.

260,000 Passports in 8 Months

The Lebanese General Security recorded a significant increase in the issuance of passports during the first eight months of this year. Available data indicates that the number of passports issued since the beginning of 2021 is about 260,000, compared to about 142,000 passports in the same period last year. That is an increase of 82 percent.

1,500 Medical Doctors Emigrated in Two Years

The head of the Lebanese Doctors Syndicate, Dr. Sharaf Abu Sharaf, points out that there are no accurate numbers of doctors who left the country. He revealed that about 130 doctors from the AUBMC left Lebanon, most of them to the United States, while around 30 percent of the physicians left two other major hospitals – Saint Georges Medical Center and Rizk Hospital.

In remarks to Asharq Al-Awsat, Abu Sharaf estimated that more than 1,500 doctors emigrated over the past two years, most of whom are specialists with high qualifications. He warned that this number might drastically increase if the crisis persisted.



Childhood Cancer Patients in Lebanon Must Battle Disease while Under Fire

Mohammad Mousawi, 8, a displaced boy from the southern suburb of Beirut who suffers from leukaemia, steps out the entrance of the Children's Cancer Center of Lebanon, in Beirut, Lebanon, Friday, Nov. 15, 2024. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)
Mohammad Mousawi, 8, a displaced boy from the southern suburb of Beirut who suffers from leukaemia, steps out the entrance of the Children's Cancer Center of Lebanon, in Beirut, Lebanon, Friday, Nov. 15, 2024. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)
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Childhood Cancer Patients in Lebanon Must Battle Disease while Under Fire

Mohammad Mousawi, 8, a displaced boy from the southern suburb of Beirut who suffers from leukaemia, steps out the entrance of the Children's Cancer Center of Lebanon, in Beirut, Lebanon, Friday, Nov. 15, 2024. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)
Mohammad Mousawi, 8, a displaced boy from the southern suburb of Beirut who suffers from leukaemia, steps out the entrance of the Children's Cancer Center of Lebanon, in Beirut, Lebanon, Friday, Nov. 15, 2024. (AP Photo/Hussein Malla)

Carol Zeghayer gripped her IV as she hurried down the brightly lit hallway of Beirut’s children’s cancer center. The 9-year-old's face brightened when she spotted her playmates from the oncology ward.

Diagnosed with cancer just months before the conflict between Hezbollah and Israel erupted in October 2023, Carol relies on weekly trips to the center in the Lebanese capital for treatment.

But what used to be a 90-minute drive, now takes up to three hours on a mountainous road to skirt the heavy bombardment in south Lebanon, but still not without danger from Israeli airstrikes. The family is just one among many across Lebanon now grappling with the hardships of both illness and war.

“She’s just a child. When they strike, she asks me, ‘Mama, was that far?’” said her mother, Sindus Hamra, The AP reported.

The family lives in Hasbaya, a province in southeastern Lebanon where the rumble of Israeli airstrikes has become part of daily life. Just 15 minutes away from their home, in the front-line town of Khiam, Israeli troops and Hezbollah fighters clash amidst relentless bombardments.

On the morning of a recent trip to Beirut for her treatment, the family heard a rocket roar and its deafening impact as they left their home. Israeli airstrikes have also hit vehicles along the Damascus-Beirut highway, which Carol and her mother have to cross.

The bombardment hasn’t let up even as hopes grew in recent days that a ceasefire might soon be agreed.

More than war, Hamra fears that Carol will miss chemotherapy.

“Her situation is very tricky — her cancer can spread to her head,” Hamra said, her eyes filling with tears. Her daughter, diagnosed first with cancer of the lymph nodes and later leukemia, has completed a third of her treatment, with many months still ahead.

While Carol's family remains in their home, many in Lebanon have been displaced by an intensified Israeli bombardment that began in late September. Tens of thousands fled their homes in southern and eastern Lebanon, as well as Beirut’s southern suburbs — among them were families with children battling cancer.

The Children’s Cancer Center of Lebanon quickly identified each patient’s location to ensure treatments remained uninterrupted, sometimes facilitating them at hospitals closer to the families' new locations, said Zeina El Chami, the center’s fundraising and events executive.

During the first days of the escalation, the center admitted some patients for emergency care and kept them there as it was unsafe to send them home, said Dolly Noun, a pediatric hematologist and oncologist.

“They had no place to go,” she added. "We’ve had patients getting admitted for panic attacks. It has not been easy.”

The war has not only deepened the struggles of young patients.

“Many physicians have had to relocate,” Noun said. “I know physicians, who work here, who haven’t seen their parents in like six weeks because the roads are very dangerous.”

Since 2019, Lebanon has been battered by cascading crises — economic collapse, the devastating Beirut port explosion in 2020, and now a relentless war — leaving institutions like the cancer center struggling to secure the funds needed to save lives.

“Cancer waits for no one,” Chami said. The crises have affected the center’s ability to hold fundraising events in recent years, leaving it in urgent need of donations, she added.

The facility is currently treating more than 400 patients aged from few days to 18 years old, Chami said. It treats around 60% of children with cancer in Lebanon.

For Carol, the war is sometimes a topic of conversation with her friends at the cancer center. Her mother hears her recount hearing the booms and how the house shook.

For others, the moments with their friends in the center's playroom provide a brief escape from the grim reality outside.

Eight-year-old Mohammad Mousawi darts around the playroom, giggling as he hides objects and books for his playmate to find. Too absorbed by the game, he barely answers questions, before the nurse calls him for his weekly chemotherapy treatment.

His family lived in Ghobeiry, a neighborhood in Beirut’s southern suburbs. Their house was marked for destruction in an Israeli evacuation warning weeks ago, his mother said.

“But till now, they haven’t struck it,” said his mother, Suzan Mousawi. “They have hit (buildings) around it — two behind it and two in front of it.”

The family has relocated three times. They first moved to the mountains, but the bitter cold weakened Mohammad’s already fragile immune system.

Now they’ve settled in Ain el-Rummaneh, not far from their home in the southern Beirut suburbs known as Dahiyeh, which has come under significant bombardment. As the Israeli military widened the radius of its bombardment, some buildings hit were less than 500 meters (yards) from their current home.

The Mousawis have lived their entire lives in Dahiyeh, Suzan Mousawi said, until the war uprooted them. Her parents’ home was bombed. “All our memories are gone,” she said.

Mohammad has 15 weeks of treatment left, and his family is praying it will be successful. But the war has stolen some of their dreams.

“When Mohammad fell ill, we bought a house,” she said. “It wasn’t big, but it was something. I bought him an electric scooter and set up a pool, telling myself we’d take him there once he finishes treatment.”

She fears the house, bought with every penny she had saved, could be lost at any moment.

For some families, this kind of conflict is not new. Asinat Al Lahham, a 9-year-old patient of the cancer center, is a refugee whose family fled Syria.

“We escaped one war to another,” Asinat’s mother, Fatima, added.

As her father, Aouni, drove home from her chemotherapy treatment weeks ago, an airstrike happened. He cranked up the music in the car, trying to drown out the deafening sound of the attack.

Asinat sat in the back seat, clutching her favorite toy. “I wanted to distract her, to make her hear less of it,” he said.

In the medical ward on a recent day, Asinat sat in a chair hooked to an IV drip, negotiating with her doctor. “Just two or three small pinches,” she pleaded, asking for flavoring for her instant noodles that she is not supposed to have.

“I don’t feel safe ... nowhere is safe ... not Lebanon, not Syria, not Palestine,” Asinat said. “The sonic booms are scary, but the noodles make it better,” she added with a mischievous grin.

The family has no choice but to stay in Lebanon. Returning to Syria, where their home is gone, would mean giving up Asinat’s treatment.

“We can’t leave here,” her mother said. “This war, her illness ... it’s like there’s no escape.”