Displaced people under suspicion: The new logic of fear in Lebanon

Hussein has some advice for his younger brother. When he is traveling in Beirut, he is supposed to disguise his accent so that no one hears that he comes from southern Lebanon. Hussein himself has also become cautious. He is 30 years old, Shiite Muslim. Normally, he says, he would have no problem reading his real name in the newspaper or talking openly about politics. But this time it is, because: “There has never been as much fear and mistrust as today.”

When violence between Israel and Lebanon escalated in early March 2026, Hussein’s family fled the south of the country to the capital. Like more than a million other people, they had to leave their homes and seek safety. But instead of solidarity, they encountered mistrust. The neighbors didn’t want the family in the house. They feared that the presence of displaced Shiites could make the building a target for Israeli attacks.

Fear of displaced people

The Shiite religious community is one of the largest in Lebanon. Because Hezbollah – both a political party and a terrorist militia – is primarily anchored in Shiite regions, Shiites are often associated with the organization. “For them,” says Hussein, referring to the Christians, Druze and Sunni Muslims in the country, “Shiites are the ones who brought the war to Lebanon.”

And yet he understands where the distrust comes from: “People are afraid. They don’t want to die.” Israel specifically links Hezbollah with Shiite-influenced areas and communities.

Like on April 8th. On that day, dubbed “Black Wednesday” by many Beirut residents, Israel attacked several targets in the capital, including a residential building in the densely populated Tallet al-Khayyat neighborhood. A neighborhood for which there had previously been no evacuation call. Israel said it had targeted people with ties to Hezbollah. According to the Lebanese Civil Defense, more than 250 people were killed in the attacks.

This is exactly why many people have become suspicious of new neighbors from the south, says a middle-aged woman who sells her handmade products at a market in East Beirut. She feels sorry for the displaced people. However, when asked whether she would accommodate a refugee family herself, she shakes her head. It’s just not safe to host people.

Religiously divided

Hezbollah began rocket attacks on Israel in March in response to the US-Israeli war against Iran. The Lebanese government at the time condemned the breach of the previously agreed ceasefire and banned all military activity; Israel responded with airstrikes across the country and a ground offensive.

Sabrina Kaschowitz is not surprised that religion so easily leads to divisions within society. She most recently worked in Beirut as a political analyst for the Friedrich Ebert Foundation.

Since independence in 1943, the so-called confessional system has divided political power in the country between the religious communities – for example, the president is always Christian, the prime minister is a Sunni and the speaker of parliament is a Shiite. This was intended to create stability, but at the same time it anchored religious identities deeply in political and social life.

“Lebanon is often perceived as a pluralistic country. At the same time, the confessional system has repeatedly created crises and made it difficult for a common national identity to emerge,” explains Kaschowitz.

Frequently asked questions

The expert spoke to people on the street, in cafes and at markets. Many report that they are now asked more frequently where they come from, what religious community they belong to or who has recently moved into the neighborhood. For Kaschowitz it is clear: “This has to do with the Israeli attacks and how fear is channeled along sectarian lines.”

She refers to reports that Israeli military representatives are said to have called on Christian and Druze communities in southern Lebanon to expel Shiite residents from their communities. Most people would not reject Shiite displaced people because they are Shiites, said Kaschowitz. They are afraid of becoming the target of an attack themselves.

Hussein’s family has since left their accommodation in Beirut and moved to a village east of the capital. But they don’t want to stay. As soon as the situation improves, they want to return to the south. Hussein hopes for a return to normality in which people stop seeing each other as threats – and in which no one has to consider whether their accent makes them suspicious.