The bangs of Israeli airstrikes on Beirut’s southern suburb interrupted an evening discussion about the future of our country after the war. Even so, the barrage of updates about strikes in the south, and the mass evacuation orders that have nearly emptied out the region south of the Litani River, and the transformation of villages south of Sidon in the ghost towns, were far more critical and explosive issues questioned that evening at a table of mostly composed of Southerners.
At that moment, the Lebanese orchestra conductor, Mr. Lubnan Baalbaki, who hails from the border village of Adaisseh, which had been completely destroyed during the previous war, he raised the “question of return.”
“Have we, those of us from south of the river—become the “Arabs of “26,” or “the Lebanese refugees,” he asked? He was making a reference to the fate of the Palestinians after the declaration of the Israeli state split them into two groups: the “Arabs of ’48” (or the “Palestinians of the interior”), and the much more numerous others who have not returned since- the “refugees of ’48.”
Amid his temporary displacement, which may become an exile in the future, the Israeli army killed the priest of the southern town of Qlayaa, Father Pierre al-Rahi, and residents of Christian villages such like Alma al-Shaab and Rmeish were given evacuation orders. There are also fears that evacuation orders could extend to what remains of the villages of Kfar Shouba, al-Arqoub, and Marjeyoun, emptying the south.
If some are allowed to remain or return in the future, they would become “the Arabs of ’26” or “Lebanese of the interior.” Indeed, this is the first time that communities in the South face an existential threat. It is the first time they fear they may not be allowed to remain. Between 1948 and the invasion of 1978, the inhabitants of the border towns faced not threat to their ability to stay in their community, and even with the 1978 invasion and the establishment of the security belt around these towns, many remained in their areas. Indeed, even in the 1982 war, when the Israelis reached Beirut, the southerners did not leave their regions.
Something entirely different is underway currently: instead of a “war in support of Gaza,” we are seeing a “war in support of Tehran. In other words, from a “war of destruction” in to a “war of suicide.” Both wars were pretexts the Israelis did not even need in order to implement the plans they had begun pursuing before the previous war. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has expressed his desire to expand the buffer zone, moving deeper the current seven kilometers inside Lebanese territory, which would mean the annexation of new territory south of the Litani River.
Within the first seven kilometers, Israel would not allow for the return of residents. The potential repercussion of further expansion, which is difficult to fathom given the scale of the evacuation warnings, the destruction, along the trajectory of Israel’s advance, raise serious fear that we could lose vast regions south the river, that they could be entirely destroyed, depopulated, or occupied. That is Netanyahu’s plan.
The question, then: Do the six rockets that Hezbollah fired at Israel, given their strategic insignificance, measure up to the existential threats now facing the southerners and all Lebanese? Rockets that served as nothing more than a pretext for a long Lebanese exile.
Returning to Mr. Baalbaki and the house of his father (the painter Abdel Hamid Baalbaki) that the family he lost in the previous war, it was less a family home than a museum of Southern and Lebanese cultural and artistic heritage. It was part of our collective memory and archive. Today, we are threatened with losing everything: our past, our present, and our future. Most of us left carrying very little. We left memories hanging on walls that could be leveled to the ground and countless items that could become rubble. We even forgot to take with us, as the Palestinians who left with the hope of returning one day had, the keys to our homes.
