In parts of Lebanon’s metropolis Beirut, it’s hard to believe this is a country in crisis. World class restaurants, hotels and designer shops service a small, very wealthy elite, as well as tourists attracted by the beauty of this country. Lebanon is famed for the proximity of its snow-capped mountains to its rolling beaches; a country of breath-taking views and vibrant cultural vignettes. I found this hard to reconcile with what the Save the Children country team had told me about alarmingly high rates of poverty and hunger. But if you look closer the signs are there, and this situation deserves far more global attention before it’s too late.
From crumbling infrastructure to frequent power cuts lasting several hours.
Public hospitals are running out of supplies and staff aren’t paid so don’t show up. Even if you can get treatment, the national insurance scheme covers a fraction of the cost. I met a mother who’s nearly blind and struggling to care for her children. The operation she needs would cost a few hundred dollars but that’s far beyond her reach. Those who can leave Lebanon do so but many are stuck, with their life savings locked in banks that can’t afford to repay them. Pensions are a bad joke. Jobs are very hard to come by. Parents told me that there’s no middle class any more. You’re either rich or poor. One mother who spoke to our team hadn’t eaten in two days. People who used to run companies drive taxis in the hope of dollar tips. There are protest signs at Beirut port calling for justice for those killed in the 2020 blast, and high rise blocks nearby stand empty with broken windows. The sharp deterioration of the situation, and lack of a clear exit ramp, has led to a painful backslide of the country that is now ‘growing the wrong way’, with serious consequences for children.
Just imagine growing up in this context.
As parents, we try to protect our children, but the groups of 9-18 year olds I spoke to across the country were all too aware of their parents’ stress. They knew not to ask for new clothes or toys. They wanted to help, and several had dropped out of school to work 10-12 hour shifts in shops or selling tissues in heavy traffic for pittance. This number will rise now that schools are closed. Teachers are striking because they can’t afford to meet their own needs. The Government can’t afford to meet their demands. So one million children are caught in the middle. It’s not just the learning they lose. It’s often the only safe space they have to be with their friends.
The children I spoke to in Bourj al Burajne camp near Beirut told me they were too scared to leave their homes, except to come to the community centre we were sitting in. They told me about friends killed by the live electric cables dangling at head height in the rain, injured in gun fights that were nothing to do with them, or harassed by drug dealers. In a different community near Tripoli, children told me about friends who’d disappeared, having been lured into vans. What our teams are seeing suggests these problems are increasing as the economy shrinks.
Lebanon is now a lower-middle income country and may fall further.
In theory, this would open up access to more grants and cheaper loans from the international community – but only if official donors are convinced it’s worth the investment. The jury is out. The international community says they’re ready to provide financial support to stabilise the economy, but only in return for significant reforms given previous broken promises. What reforms might be accepted is widely debated, and Parliament first needs to agree a new President and Government. When I asked for likely timelines, few expected the stalemate to be broken any time soon. In the meantime, the local currency has collapsed against the dollar. Food prices are rising rapidly (the third fastest rises in the world after Zimbabwe and Venezuela according to the World Bank). The official exchange rate was adjusted down by 90% whilst I was there, and the unofficial rate is still tumbling. Buying olive oil, nuts and herbs from women in the co-op market to take home, I needed a calculator and a thick wallet. The cost for my visa was either $120, $12 or about $3 depending which exchange rate applied.
What happens to children and families whilst this international game of chess plays out?
Save the Children has been in Lebanon since the 1950s, advocating for children’s rights with and through long-standing partnerships with excellent local organisations. It’s clear that our work is making a difference. We’re providing a range of support, from cash, nutritious food and clean water to basic literacy/numeracy classes, and clubs where they can relax or get professional counselling if they need it. We are also helping children to think about what they’d like to change, and how to get their voice heard. It’s their future at stake after all.
Lebanon receives substantial foreign aid, but this isn’t as effective as it could be and now it’s at risk thanks to competing priorities, not least the Ukraine conflict and the recent devastating earthquake in Turkiye and Syria.
Precious resources are not used as efficiently as they must be.
Aid is too fragmented, with lots of short-term humanitarian funding that ends up responding to deeply rooted structural issues. Support must be based on need, rather than nationality or status e.g. Lebanese v Syrian refugee v Palestinian refugees. All the mums in the group I met knew who was getting what and were angry about differences that made no sense to them. Given major uncertainties it’s vital to focus on short-term needs while also linking our response to long-term solutions. This is especially true when planning how to keep kids connected to learning. There are shifts that will help in the short-term but also make sense in the longer term, especially focusing far more on community oriented approaches and stabilizing systems and services that harness the skills and experience of Lebanon’s network of local and national civil society organisations. I met several of Save the Children’s strategic local partners who are doing vital work, including on rights and accountability which few Government donors want to fund.
Many people I spoke to talked about this as a ‘man-made’ or ‘human-made’ crisis rather than a natural disaster. This is true, but that’s no help to the children caught in the middle who have played no part in the evolution of the crisis but who are affected the most. They deserve better.
