The recent Israeli war on Lebanon did not pass without exacting a heavy toll. From October 7, 2023, until today, Lebanon has suffered devastating human and material losses. In the latest Israeli aggression on Lebanon—particularly targeting South Lebanon, the Beqaa Valley, and the southern suburbs of Beirut—according to a report by the Lebanese Ministry of Health, more than 4,000 people lost their lives, and over 16,000 were injured, including refugees who had sought the South in search of a livelihood or work, only to find themselves in the heart of the battle.
But these visible losses do not capture the full scale of the catastrophe. The losses also lie in the unseen traces—in the souls that received no care, in the psychological traumas that have accumulated without release or treatment, and in the chronic neglect of people’s right—especially in South Lebanon—to receive psychological care that protects them from collapse after the war, just as they need shelter, food, and medicine.
This ongoing official neglect puts the state to account for its role in South Lebanon, especially since the effects of the war do not disappear with the end of the bombing but rather settle deeply in bodies and minds, affecting particularly the most vulnerable groups: women, girls, and adolescents in communities already suffering from marginalization and exclusion.
From southern Lebanon, Maryam (a pseudonym), 16 years old and a high school student, shares:
“The first month of the school year was lost as we lived through displacement. We didn’t know if our homes were still standing, and fear completely took over us. We couldn’t focus on studying; all our thoughts were fixed on the bombing and returning to our town. When we finally came back, we were surprised to find the exams starting immediately, without any time to prepare or adjust to what we had been through.”
We were unable to concentrate on our studies, as all our thoughts were focused on the bombing and returning to the town.
And when we returned, we were surprised that the exams started immediately, without any time to prepare or adjust to what we had been through.
She continues: “Even after returning to the classrooms, things were not normal. We tried to study amid the sounds of warplanes, which only intensified our anxiety and hindered our ability to concentrate. No one at school talked about what we were going through mentally. The administration’s only concern was to avoid any emergencies while we were under their care. As for us, we were treated as if we were simply expected to keep up with the curriculum and take the exams, regardless of the trauma we carried with us.”
Regarding her psychological state, Maryam says:
“After the shelling subsided, I thought I was fine, but gradually I started to experience constant tension and anxiety. We suffered from insomnia, and the sounds of the bombardment haunted us even in our dreams. Despite returning to our village, I did not feel any inner stability.”
Maryam’s story is not an exception; rather, it represents the daily reality of many adolescents in southern Lebanon—those burdened by silence and exhausted by official indifference, amid the absence of any national plan that prioritizes psychological support, especially in marginalized and conflict-affected areas like southern Lebanon.
Psychological treatment is a necessity for all age groups.
This absence comes at a cost. As psychotherapist Carol Manana explains, the psychological reality in the South after the recent war reveals a real crisis affecting the younger age groups, especially adolescents, who face anxiety and fear without having coping tools or understanding what they are going through. This often manifests in withdrawn or impulsive behaviors, or in troubling physical symptoms.
Manana says: “It is important to distinguish between the psychological awareness of children and adolescents on one hand, and adults on the other. Adults often have the tools to recognize and clearly name their feelings—such as anxiety or fear—as well as an understanding of the connection between these emotions and physical symptoms that may appear, like insomnia, nightmares, or even physical pain resulting from psychological stress.”
As for adolescents, they often lack these tools and do not yet possess the psychological skills necessary for coping or acceptance. This makes them more vulnerable to trauma, which may lead to maladaptive responses such as social withdrawal, internet addiction, or engaging in risky behaviors like experimenting with smoking. These behaviors should not be viewed simply as acts of “rebellion” or “moral decay,” but rather as a direct expression of the anxiety and confusion experienced by adolescents in the absence of a supportive environment.
The need for psychological support today has become more urgent than ever, not only for adolescents but for all age groups, due to the accumulation of crises in Lebanon over recent years.
She adds: “The need for psychological support today is more urgent than ever, not only for adolescents but for all age groups, due to the accumulation of crises in Lebanon over recent years — from the economic and health collapse, to the population and livelihood explosion, and finally the recent war in the South, ‘the harshest of all that preceded it.’ This war left not only material damage but also planted a collective feeling that ‘life can end in a moment.’ Recently, there were two cases of suicide that could have been prevented if timely psychological or medical intervention had been available.”
Manana continues: “Psychological support remains limited and fragmented to this day, relying mostly on individual initiatives or limited partnerships with some civil society organizations. I partner with an organization focused on adolescents with disabilities, which has dedicated a section to mental health under the conditions of war, as well as the contribution of the ‘Social Movement’ association that covers the costs of psychological sessions for children and adolescents as part of easing the burden on families. However, despite their importance, these initiatives cannot compensate for the absence of a comprehensive national policy that integrates psychological support within the educational and social systems.”
Psychological care is not a luxury, but an essential need that must be provided sustainably, especially in marginalized areas like the South.
Carol Manana concludes her statement by emphasizing:
“Psychological care is not a luxury, but an essential need that must be provided sustainably, especially in marginalized areas like the South, and specifically in schools, where academic pressure combines with social and emotional stress. There is a necessity to provide psychological first aid, and to intensify awareness efforts to reduce the social stigma still associated with seeking psychological treatment, in addition to the logistical and financial barriers faced by families, which create an additional obstacle preventing children and adolescents from accessing the care they truly need.”
She concludes by saying:
“The challenge is not only in providing a psychological therapy session, but in breaking the culture of silence, dismantling shame, and planting a societal conviction that mental health is a right, and that psychological justice is an integral part of social justice.”
I feel like someone has replaced me.
And if reality shows us anything, it is the difficulty that the people of the South are going through during this delicate phase, and the fear of the war returning and the psychological instability. This is what Layal (a pseudonym), a 21-year-old resident of Tyre, tells me. Layal explains:
“If a person doesn’t express what’s inside them, it remains suppressed, grows with them, and turns into psychological trauma. I have tried to let out what’s inside me, and I’m still trying until now, but it’s not easy.”
If a person does not express what’s inside them, it will remain suppressed and grow along with them.
And it turns into psychological trauma.
Regarding her studies, she says:
“I’m studying psychology, and I understand the importance of psychological therapy and mental health. I admit that needing help doesn’t mean the path to it is easy. When the pain is great and we can’t help ourselves, we need therapy. But if we don’t seek it, we remain stuck, weighed down by the pain.”
The role of schools as a temporary alternative for mental health care
The reality doesn’t only show up in personal experiences but also manifests in educational institutions, as explained by Hiam Ghabris, the principal of Al-Babelieh Public High School, about the most notable psychological and behavioral changes observed among students after the recent traumatic events:
“The impact wasn’t the same for everyone, but it appeared in recurring patterns of fear, anxiety, silence, and aggression. A sense of insecurity became evident in the students’ behavior, as even simple or sudden sounds could startle them. Sleep disturbances have also become common, with some students arriving late to school saying, ‘We couldn’t sleep all night.’”
Ghabris adds, “Grief was strongly present among students who lost loved ones during the war, while signs of social isolation became noticeably apparent in some, as they preferred to sit alone in the schoolyard with little interaction with their peers. In classes like ninth grade, early signs of aggression started to appear among some students, which is likely the result of accumulated stress and psychological trauma. I am also concerned about other students who do not engage with either their classmates or the teaching staff, displaying what can be described as psychological withdrawal or emotional shutdown.”
Despite the absence of mental health specialists, Ghabris affirms that “the teaching staff are doing their best to address these challenges by attentively listening to the students and encouraging them to express their feelings and share their sources of anxiety. The school also strives to provide a safe and stable environment and organizes regular activities to alleviate psychological stress, such as drawing, playing, and group interaction, especially for students in the middle school grades.”
“Sadness was strongly present among the students who lost loved ones during the war, while signs of social isolation became notably apparent in some others.”
She explains that some female teachers use interactive storytelling, while the physical education teacher plays a key role in psychological relief through physical activity. Parents are also involved in monitoring their children’s behavior to ensure that psychological support extends from school to home.
Regarding the broader role of the school, Ghabris pointed out that “the educational institution does not only serve an educational role but also carries psychological and social responsibilities. Therefore, the school works to provide an environment where students feel safe, prioritizes training teachers in the principles of psychological first aid, and promotes healthy social relationships among students through clubs and extracurricular activities such as art, sports, and scouting.”
On the academic side, Ghabris notes that “the school takes into account the psychological pressures the students are experiencing, so it reduces their academic workload when needed, provides remedial and support lessons, alongside life skills development workshops and career guidance, to help them build a realistic vision for their future.”
I’m afraid the scene of war will repeat itself.
In a parallel context, stories of mothers who found themselves in the heart of the war dominate the scene of anxiety, fear, and psychological exhaustion. During displacement and forced migration, the mother becomes the first line of defense for her children, even as she silently endures internal collapse.
This is what Zahra (who preferred to remain anonymous) experienced. She is a young mother from southern Lebanon who was forced to flee her village to Beirut with her family and young child. Zahra talks about her experience: “We were displaced multiple times, and the displacement itself was extremely harsh. In moments when I felt suffocated or extremely stressed, I would carry my child and go outside, even if just for a walk down the street. I was searching for any kind of relief, anything that would make me feel that we were still alive and that life could go on. Just looking into my child’s face and asking myself, ‘Will we return?’ was enough to make me feel double the anxiety.”
She adds: “Whenever I remember those days, my mental state deteriorates. No one asked us how we felt, neither the state nor even the institutions. It’s true that some organizations tried to intervene, but most of the people who went through this experience, even if they seem outwardly strong today, are deeply affected. What we lived through was not simple.”
Zahra concludes her words: “What scares me the most now is the possibility of war repeating. Even today, my child can’t sleep unless he’s clinging to me, because the feeling of insecurity still lives within us.”
The absence of support is a direct result of the state’s absence.
Mariam, Layal, and Zahra represent more than just three individual stories; they are a microcosm of a wide segment of the people of southern Lebanon, who were abandoned by the state at a moment of need. This reflects the direct consequence of the state’s chronic neglect of this fundamental right and its failure to include mental health care in national plans, especially in the war-torn areas. Moreover, the structural political reasons often exclude the south from welfare programs, deepening the suffering and widening the gap.
Today, the south needs a comprehensive response plan that acknowledges the deep psychological impact of the war and directs care services to all groups, especially the most vulnerable. It also needs a renewal of trust that the state is genuinely working toward social justice, through integrated protection—both psychological and security-based—that places people at the heart of public policies, not on its margins.
