Lebanon’s Economic Crises Affect Fertility Rates

 A pharmacy employee holds a box of medication in Beirut, Lebanon, May 28, 2021. (Reuters)
A pharmacy employee holds a box of medication in Beirut, Lebanon, May 28, 2021. (Reuters)
TT
20

Lebanon’s Economic Crises Affect Fertility Rates

 A pharmacy employee holds a box of medication in Beirut, Lebanon, May 28, 2021. (Reuters)
A pharmacy employee holds a box of medication in Beirut, Lebanon, May 28, 2021. (Reuters)

Lebanese mother, Hiyam, in her twenties, preferred to undergo an abortion rather than having a second child in a country torn apart by crises, as she told Asharq Al-Awsat.

Despite what she described as a “rational” decision, she expressed her “deep sadness and fear of violating the Sharia.”

But she continued with a series of questions: “How will we secure milk, diapers, and medicines? How will we be able to afford the expenses of two children? And before all that, in which hospital will I deliver the baby and at what cost?”

While no official statistics indicate the number of abortions currently taking place in Lebanon, as such operations are usually kept secret, Hiyam said that the decision was not easy, and she always hoped that her little daughter would have a brother or sister.

“But a crime that's greater than abortion is to bring a helpless child into a country where we do not know from where the strikes will come,” she added.

Stressing that her doctor advised her not to resort to this option, Hiyam said: “We know more about our financial capabilities, and we can hardly secure milk and diapers for my young daughter... We refuse to be unfair with our two children!”

Lebanon has been rocked by a severe economic collapse since 2019, the worst in decades. Its repercussions did not exclude any aspect of the life of the Lebanese citizens, affecting vital needs of food, water, fuel, medicine and hospitalization.

As a result of this collapse, many Lebanese are reluctant to take the step of having children, fearing that this would increase their daily suffering amid the high prices of the needs of newborns on one hand and the severe shortage of medications and vaccines on the other.

The price of a box of infant formula increased from LBP 12,000 to LBP 100,000, while the price of diapers, according to quality, now ranges from LBP 150,000 to LBP 250,000. With the lifting of government subsidies, the prices of medicine and vaccinations for children, if found, have also soared.

Sabine, 36, who has been married for four years, told Asharq Al-Awsat that her dream of motherhood “may have evaporated with all the crises we are witnessing in Lebanon.”

She said that she got married in 2018, and she and her husband chose to postpone the step of having children for two years to be able to pay off the debts of the wedding ceremony and home furniture and also enjoy life before bearing a great responsibility.

Sabine and her husband are looking for a job in an Arab country or for emigration to a European country “to start a better life and a suitable environment for raising children.”

In remarks to Asharq Al-Awsat, Researcher at Information International Mohammad Shamseddine said that 92,957 childbirths were registered in Lebanon in 2018, compared to 86,584 in 2019. The number continued to decline in 2020 and reached 74,049.

Although the numbers for 2021 are not final yet, Shamseddine expects an additional decrease in the number of births in Lebanon, which he said will not exceed 60,000.

Several reasons led to this decline, he explained, including the outbreak of the Covid-19 pandemic and the severe economic crisis.



Syrians in Libya Struggle to Escape ‘Exile in Limbo’

A photo shows young Syrian men who drowned after their boat capsized off the coast of Libya. Credit: Rights activist Tarek Lamloum
A photo shows young Syrian men who drowned after their boat capsized off the coast of Libya. Credit: Rights activist Tarek Lamloum
TT
20

Syrians in Libya Struggle to Escape ‘Exile in Limbo’

A photo shows young Syrian men who drowned after their boat capsized off the coast of Libya. Credit: Rights activist Tarek Lamloum
A photo shows young Syrian men who drowned after their boat capsized off the coast of Libya. Credit: Rights activist Tarek Lamloum

About seven months ago, a group of 25 Syrian youths, including minors, set off from Libya on an irregular migration journey toward Europe. Only four made it back alive. The rest drowned in the Mediterranean.

The tragedy, which left a deep mark on Syrian communities both in Libya and abroad, has drawn renewed attention to the large and diverse Syrian population now living in the North African country, some fleeing the war in Syria under former President Bashar al-Assad, others settled there long before.

Syria’s presence in Libya is far from monolithic. It spans businessmen, migrant laborers, families who settled during the rule of Muammar Gaddafi, and former fighters now working as mercenaries. Many also see Libya as a temporary stop on the perilous path to Europe.

For most, Libya is not the destination but a gateway. The recent drowning of 21 Syrians in the Mediterranean was not an isolated tragedy, but part of a pattern of loss that has haunted the community for years.

Reports from local and international migration watchdogs have documented repeated drownings and arrests of Syrians at sea, with many captured by Libya’s coastguard and detained in overcrowded jails.

Despite the risks, many Syrians have managed to adapt to life in Libya, integrating into local communities and participating in its economy.

Yet numerous challenges persist, particularly for undocumented workers and those living without valid residency papers. Many report facing discrimination, abuse, and difficult working conditions.

As thousands of Syrian refugees across the Middle East prepare to return home amid improving conditions and relaxed restrictions, Syrians in Libya remain stuck, unable to stay, and unable to leave.

“We’re caught in the middle,” said one Syrian resident in Tripoli. “We can’t endure much longer, but we also can’t afford to go back.”

Many Syrians in Libya say they are increasingly vulnerable to exploitation, including passport confiscation and harassment by armed groups and criminal gangs operating with impunity.

Several Syrian residents told Asharq Al-Awsat they are facing rising unemployment, frequent kidnappings, and demands for ransom by militias. For those who now wish to return to Syria, doing so has become financially prohibitive due to hefty fines for visa violations.

Steep Penalties for Overstaying

Under a revised Libyan immigration law enacted on March 14, 2024, foreigners who overstay their visas or residency permits are charged 500 Libyan dinars - around $90 - per month. The regulation adds a significant burden for many Syrians whose legal documents have expired and who lack the resources to renew them or pay the fines required to exit the country legally.

Due to the political division in Libya since 2014, no official statistics exist on the number of foreign residents. However, the UN refugee agency (UNHCR) reported in 2020 that approximately 14,500 Syrian refugees and asylum seekers were living in Libya.

Ten years after arriving in Libya, Ahmed Kamal Al-Fakhouri says he is now trapped, unable to afford life in the country or the high costs of leaving it.

“They’ve imposed fines on us that are beyond reason - nearly $1,500 per person,” said Fakhouri, a restaurant worker in Tripoli, echoing a growing outcry among Syrians in Libya burdened by mounting penalties and legal uncertainties. “Sometimes, I can’t even afford a day’s meal.”

Fakhouri fled Derna after the deadly floods of August 2023 and resettled in Tripoli.

“I saw death with my own eyes,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat, describing the trauma of losing his home. “Now we’re living in misery. We want the world to hear our voice - we want to go back to our country.”

Libya hosts thousands of Syrians, including doctors, engineers, university students, and day laborers who fill the country’s markets in search of work to support their families.

Yet many say they now find themselves stuck, facing visa penalties they can’t afford and no clear path home - even as the fall of Assad’s regime renews hopes for return.

“Exit Tax” Burdens Families

While Libya’s labor ministries have issued no formal statement on the matter, members of the Syrian community say they are being charged an "exit tax" calculated based on their overstay period. No official decree has been published, but testimonies suggest the fees are acting as a de facto barrier to departure.

Following Assad’s ouster, many Syrians are reconsidering return, describing exile as a “prison,” but are deterred by the financial burden of settling overstays.

Asharq Al-Awsat reached out to both of Libya’s rival labor ministries to clarify policies affecting Syrians and the reported fines for expired documents, but received no response.

Zekeriya Saadi, another Syrian living in Tripoli, has publicly called on authorities in both eastern and western Libya to cancel the exit tax and allow those wishing to return to Syria to do so.

“In these unbearable conditions, it’s unreasonable to ask refugees to pay such high fees just to leave the country,” he said. “This tax is a major obstacle, it exceeds our capacity, especially given our financial hardships.”

Saadi said most Syrians in Libya are low-income families without stable jobs. “Many are at risk of eviction, kidnapping, or exploitation. Leaving has become a matter of survival,” he said. “How can a displaced person be treated like a tourist or a wealthy expat?”

He urged Syria’s Foreign Ministry to take a clear stance and negotiate with Libyan authorities for fee exemptions and coordinated return efforts, while also working to protect Syrians who remain in the country.

Passport Problems Bar Education

Beyond financial barriers, expired passports are also stranding Syrians in legal limbo. Many have lost access to services, and the issue is now affecting the next generation.

According to Syrian media reports, education officials in Misrata barred at least 100 Syrian children from enrolling in public schools because their parents’ passports had expired, highlighting how bureaucratic obstacles are deepening the crisis for displaced families.