{"id":16980,"date":"2026-06-23T19:55:45","date_gmt":"2026-06-23T19:55:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/kfarkila-soil-uncertain-future\/"},"modified":"2026-06-23T19:55:45","modified_gmt":"2026-06-23T19:55:45","slug":"kfarkila-soil-uncertain-future","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/kfarkila-soil-uncertain-future\/","title":{"rendered":"A Murky Future: Will Kfarkila’s Soil Return as It Was?"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

In Kfarkila, the area located south of Lebanon’s Litani River, agriculture was never merely a source of livelihood; it was part of people’s lives. Olive trees gathered families during the harvest seasons and shaped the identity of an entire town. But that identity has begun to fade. According to Lebanese Agriculture Minister Dr. Nizar Hani, around 36% of the agricultural land in the area south of the Litani has been damaged \u2014 a dangerous indicator that threatens not only the farmers and the soil of their land, but also places Lebanese food security before a direct and serious challenge.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \"About 36% of the agricultural land in the area south of the Litani has been damaged\"<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
After the 2024 war, which left heavy scars, some hope remained that the soil would gradually recover. But that hope did not last long. With the outbreak of the ongoing 2026 war, the damage was no longer limited to crops or seasons; it extended to strike the very essence of agriculture: the soil. Today, the scene is no longer what it was \u2014 bulldozed lands, others contaminated, and fields now beyond their owners’ reach. So how far has Kfarkila’s soil deteriorated? And what is its impact on agriculture and food security in Lebanon?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“I lost 80% of this year’s olive oil production because of the war,” reveals farmer and engineer Ali Sarhan to the Silat Wassel platform. Sarhan, who owns a large olive grove in the village, used to sell hundreds of tins (tanakat) of oil every year. Now, in his words: “the situation is entirely different; my season this year dropped by about 80% in olive oil production destined for export, and so I incurred heavy losses added to my first loss in the 2024 war.” At the same time, he affirms that there is still arable land in the town of Kfarkila. The Kfarkila farmer does not ask for much to keep farming\u2026 only to be able to reach his land. But today he is displaced in Jezzine, unable even to enter his village or check on his trees, leaving behind a withering season and a land waiting for its owner.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"
 The photo shows the town of Kfarkila before and after the war<\/sub><\/sup><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
The destruction visible in Kfarkila is only part of the picture. The land that at first glance seemed to be merely burned or bulldozed fields carries within it deeper and more complex damage, extending to the very structure of the soil. In a scientific reading of this reality, the head of the Nabatieh Agriculture Department, engineer Hussein al-Sakka, explains to the Silat Wassel platform that what befell Kfarkila cannot be reduced to a single lost season; the damage struck the crops themselves, and struck what lies beyond that: the soil.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
  \"What befell Kfarkila cannot be reduced to a single lost season; the damage struck the crops themselves\"<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
The crops have almost vanished. Between burning, bulldozing, and cutting, almost nothing of note remained; even the olive trees were not spared \u2014 some were stolen and others destroyed, turning the town into land nearly bare of any vegetation, except for some trees that were relocated and saved. As for the soil, it bore the war’s marks in two ways. The first is visible to the eye: debris, metals, and missile remnants mixed into it, making work in it nearly impossible before it is cleaned. The second is more dangerous and slower: chemical contamination caused mainly by phosphorus. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Although this contamination does not include heavy metals, that does not change much of the reality: the land today is unproductive, and the farmer cannot rely on it. With the absence of vegetation cover, the soil has become more fragile and prone to erosion with every rain or wind. Al-Sakka points to a harsh paradox: leaving the land uncultivated may help it recover part of its health over time, but at the same time, this very neglect accelerates its deterioration.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The problem does not stop at Kfarkila’s borders. According to al-Sakka, food security in Lebanon is tied to key agricultural areas such as the Wazzani\u2013Mari plain, which contributes a large share of production. With these areas damaged, farming there has stopped, and farmers have begun searching for alternatives in safer places. But even in places that were not completely destroyed, that does not mean farmers can return to them; the problem is no longer only in the soil or the crops, but in the land itself, which has in many cases turned into a dangerous place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"
The photo shows the scale of the destruction that befell the town of Kfarkila<\/sup><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
In Kfarkila, not all lands are accessible anymore. The lands that had for years been threatened by ordnance and mines spread by the wars officially became, in 2026, a border area covered by the “Yellow Line,” which residents are forbidden to enter. A military expert specializing in ordnance confirms to the Silat Wassel platform that these remnants do not deprive the farmer of working his land only during the war; their effects extend well beyond it. Even after the fighting stops, one cannot return directly to the fields, because the land needs what is known as “Battle Area Clearance” (BAC) \u2014 that is, the removal of unexploded ordnance before it becomes safe to use. The problem is that this process is neither quick nor easy; clearing buried mines differs from dealing with visible ordnance, and requires a long time and precise procedures, while during the conflict it is almost impossible because of the high risks and the instability of the situation. And between soil that needs treatment and land that needs clearing, the farmer remains stuck outside his field\u2026 until further notice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
 \"These remnants do not deprive the farmer of working his land only during the war; their effects extend well beyond it\"<\/pre>\n\n\n\n
The loss does not stop at contaminated soil or dangerous land; it extends to the details of the agricultural season itself, where work on the land becomes nearly impossible, even during the pivotal periods that determine a crop’s success or failure. According to agricultural engineer Antoine Khattar, who oversaw agricultural projects (grape vineyards) in the Wazzani area (near Kfarkila), some lands on which phosphorus bombs were dropped were completely destroyed, and so the crops in them were lost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
 The greatest damage, in the engineer’s view, is the damage of “the war’s timing.” For example, the days on which grapes are expected to be sprayed with pesticides fall within the timing of the battles, which hinders access to the crops, and thus their loss due to the spread of pests and insects. As time advances toward the hotter days, the grape vines need irrigation, and with the continuation of the conflicts and the difficulty of reaching the land, the crops will die of thirst. And so on with every agricultural season and war: project owners will no longer have the financial capacity to continue, which will contribute to halting the work of thousands of farmers, and thus their facing inevitable unemployment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As for the lands subjected to direct phosphorus shelling, here lies the greatest catastrophe, as restoring their fertility again becomes nearly impossible, especially given the long period the land needs to rid itself of phosphorus. Beyond that, even after treatment, the farmer is reluctant to take the risk and farm land that previously contained phosphorus, for fear of its residues and their potential harm to the crops, and thus losing them and losing the money spent caring for them. And with the land’s prolonged neglect, harmful plants spread through it and it loses its fertility day after day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
<\/p>\n\n\n\n
 This is for grapes and vegetables; as for the trees, the loss here is twofold: money and time, especially since each fruit-bearing tree needs about 10 to 15 years to grow. According to Khattar, the lands that were sprayed with phosphorus or “glyphosate” will no longer be fit for farming again, and so they are lost forever. Finally, the agricultural engineer expressed his hope that the war would end soon, so that farmers might water what remains of their trees’ trunks before summer comes and they die of thirst entirely.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The problem in Kfarkila no longer stops at the destruction of the land; it has extended to reach the human being himself. When fields are bulldozed and seasons burned, compensation may come one day, but when the farmer is forced to leave his land, the bond that ties him to it breaks. Today, Kfarkila stands without its people, and without anyone to care for its soil or plan for its future.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\"\"
The photo shows a cluster bomb among the war’s remnants<\/sup><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n\n\n
This reality is confirmed by the secretary to the mayor of Kfarkila, Ihsan Yahya, who explained in her interview with the Silat Wassel platform that the agricultural lands and infrastructure were completely bulldozed due to the soil’s contamination with phosphorus, and so have \u2014 at least for now \u2014 become entirely unfit for farming. As for local plans to help farmers and protect the land during the conflict, the municipality secretary affirmed that there are no plans at present; their town is destroyed and they are still displaced (the town’s residents, its municipality members, and all the people), but plans will be drawn up as soon as they return. Mrs. Ihsan stressed that before the war the town used to carry out agricultural projects through cooperation with humanitarian organizations and the Ministry of Agriculture, where they ran many training courses, tree-planting works, and the provision of seeds to farmers. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
As for the municipality’s view on the future of the soil and the agricultural seasons in the town of Kfarkila if the conflict continues, Mrs. Ihsan answered with great sorrow that the future of the soil and the agricultural seasons has become murky up to this moment, after the town had been distinguished by its expanding olive cultivation and its production of fine oil and its sale as a basic source of livelihood for the town’s people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In the midst of this reality, the picture is not limited to destruction alone; it extends to attempts to find solutions. The researcher at the “Public Works” studio, engineer Yara Abdel Khalek, points to a set of recommendations developed in cooperation with the “Arab Reform Initiative,” after a series of meetings that brought together representatives of the Lebanese ministries \u2014 among them the Ministry of Agriculture \u2014 alongside the municipality of Kfarkila and its people.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
 These recommendations did not come out of nowhere, but from daily monitoring of what the town has been subjected to since the eighth of October 2024, and an attempt to answer a simple question: how can life return?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
According to what Abdel Khalek presented in her research paper, these are the most important recommendations:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
    \n
  • Ensuring residents’ return and supporting returnees:<\/strong> by removing rubble and war debris, rehabilitating infrastructure, providing temporary service areas, and securing access to agricultural land.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Environmental and agricultural rehabilitation:<\/strong> by coordinating and updating survey work through a central body, placing the treatment of the effects of ecocide on the government committee’s list of priorities, implementing a plan to address environmental damage based on survey results, and implementing a strategy to monitor the sorting and recycling of rubble.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Supporting farmers:<\/strong> as one of the hardest-hit groups, through financial and in-kind support, securing land for farming in displacement areas, guidance on dealing with contaminated land, crops, and livestock, and encouraging the establishment, support, and guidance of agricultural cooperatives.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Documentation and judicial and administrative accountability:<\/strong> by documenting war crimes and building a case file against Israel, devising a litigation strategy and prosecuting it, and activating Lebanese diplomacy in international forums concerned with the environment and climate.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Establishing an inclusive framework for environmental recovery:<\/strong> by ensuring transparency and participation in the work of official and unofficial bodies, creating a national framework for environmental and agricultural recovery, and securing sustainable and diverse resources for environmental recovery.<\/li>\n\n\n\n
  • Setting a national vision that strengthens the natural and residential advantage of the border areas:<\/strong> by applying the comprehensive plan and its directives in rebuilding the border villages, adopting legislation to limit land sales and enable people to rebuild on the sites where they used to live, and developing plans and programs to reduce the social and economic dispersal of the border villages’ residents.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n\n\n\n
    In Kfarkila, the loss is no longer merely seasons that were lost, but a land whose owners were forced away from it, and a soil waiting for someone to revive it anew. The question remains: is it enough for the war to end for life to return to that town, or has the 2026 war escorted it to its final resting place?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
    <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
    In Kfarkila, the area located south of Lebanon’s Litani River, agriculture was never merely a source of livelihood; it was part of people’s lives. Olive trees gathered families during the harvest seasons and shaped the identity of an entire town. But that identity has begun to fade. According to Lebanese Agriculture Minister Dr. Nizar Hani, around 36% of the agricultural land in the area south of the Litani has been damaged \u2014 a dangerous indicator that threatens not only the farmers and the soil of their land, but also places Lebanese food security before a direct and serious challenge. “About 36% of the agricultural land in the area south of the Litani has been damaged” After the 2024 war, which left heavy scars, some hope remained that the soil would gradually recover. But that hope did not last long. With the outbreak of the ongoing 2026 war, the damage was no longer limited to crops or seasons; it extended to strike the very essence of agriculture: the soil. Today, the scene is no longer what it was \u2014 bulldozed lands, others contaminated, and fields now beyond their owners’ reach. So how far has Kfarkila’s soil deteriorated? And what is its impact on agriculture and food security in Lebanon? “I lost 80% of this year’s olive oil production because of the war,” reveals farmer and engineer Ali Sarhan to the Silat Wassel platform. Sarhan, who owns a large olive grove in the village, used to sell hundreds of tins (tanakat) of oil every year. Now, in his words: “the situation is entirely different; my season this year dropped by about 80% in olive oil production destined for export, and so I incurred heavy losses added to my first loss in the 2024 war.” At the same time, he affirms that there is still arable land in the town of Kfarkila. The Kfarkila farmer does not ask for much to keep farming\u2026 only to be able to reach his land. But today he is displaced in Jezzine, unable even to enter his village or check on his trees, leaving behind a withering season and a land waiting for its owner. The destruction visible in Kfarkila is only part of the picture. The land that at first glance seemed to be merely burned or bulldozed fields carries within it deeper and more complex damage, extending to the very structure of the soil. In a scientific reading of this reality, the head of the Nabatieh Agriculture Department, engineer Hussein al-Sakka, explains to the Silat Wassel platform that what befell Kfarkila cannot be reduced to a single lost season; the damage struck the crops themselves, and struck what lies beyond that: the soil. “What befell Kfarkila cannot be reduced to a single lost season; the damage struck the crops themselves” The crops have almost vanished. Between burning, bulldozing, and cutting, almost nothing of note remained; even the olive trees were not spared \u2014 some were stolen and others destroyed, turning the town into land nearly bare of any vegetation, except for some trees that were relocated and saved. As for the soil, it bore the war’s marks in two ways. The first is visible to the eye: debris, metals, and missile remnants mixed into it, making work in it nearly impossible before it is cleaned. The second is more dangerous and slower: chemical contamination caused mainly by phosphorus.  Although this contamination does not include heavy metals, that does not change much of the reality: the land today is unproductive, and the farmer cannot rely on it. With the absence of vegetation cover, the soil has become more fragile and prone to erosion with every rain or wind. Al-Sakka points to a harsh paradox: leaving the land uncultivated may help it recover part of its health over time, but at the same time, this very neglect accelerates its deterioration. The problem does not stop at Kfarkila’s borders. According to al-Sakka, food security in Lebanon is tied to key agricultural areas such as the Wazzani\u2013Mari plain, which contributes a large share of production. With these areas damaged, farming there has stopped, and farmers have begun searching for alternatives in safer places. But even in places that were not completely destroyed, that does not mean farmers can return to them; the problem is no longer only in the soil or the crops, but in the land itself, which has in many cases turned into a dangerous place. In Kfarkila, not all lands are accessible anymore. The lands that had for years been threatened by ordnance and mines spread by the wars officially became, in 2026, a border area covered by the “Yellow Line,” which residents are forbidden to enter. A military expert specializing in ordnance confirms to the Silat Wassel platform that these remnants do not deprive the farmer of working his land only during the war; their effects extend well beyond it. Even after the fighting stops, one cannot return directly to the fields, because the land needs what is known as “Battle Area Clearance” (BAC) \u2014 that is, the removal of unexploded ordnance before it becomes safe to use. The problem is that this process is neither quick nor easy; clearing buried mines differs from dealing with visible ordnance, and requires a long time and precise procedures, while during the conflict it is almost impossible because of the high risks and the instability of the situation. And between soil that needs treatment and land that needs clearing, the farmer remains stuck outside his field\u2026 until further notice. “These remnants do not deprive the farmer of working his land only during the war; their effects extend well beyond it” The loss does not stop at contaminated soil or dangerous land; it extends to the details of the agricultural season itself, where work on the land becomes nearly impossible, even during the pivotal periods that determine a crop’s success or failure. According to agricultural engineer Antoine Khattar, who oversaw agricultural projects (grape vineyards) in the Wazzani area<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":86,"featured_media":16954,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[362,379,383,354,522,502],"tags":[676,637,422],"class_list":["post-16980","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-environment","category-environmental-issues","category-food-security","category-municipalities","category-the-people-of-the-south-speak","category-the-south-is-changing","tag-agriculture","tag-food-security","tag-silat_wassel-en"],"blocksy_meta":{"styles_descriptor":{"styles":{"desktop":"","tablet":"","mobile":""},"google_fonts":[],"version":7}},"rttpg_featured_image_url":{"full":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/19-12.jpg",2048,900,false],"landscape":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/19-12.jpg",2048,900,false],"portraits":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/19-12.jpg",2048,900,false],"thumbnail":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/19-12-150x150.jpg",150,150,true],"medium":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/19-12-300x132.jpg",300,132,true],"large":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/19-12-1024x450.jpg",1024,450,true],"1536x1536":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/19-12-1536x675.jpg",1536,675,true],"2048x2048":["https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2026\/06\/19-12.jpg",2048,900,false]},"rttpg_author":{"display_name":"\u0633\u0627\u0644\u064a \u062c\u0627\u0628\u0631","author_link":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/author\/saly-jaber\/"},"rttpg_comment":0,"rttpg_category":"Environment<\/a> Environmental Issues<\/a> Food Security<\/a> Municipalities<\/a> The People of the South Speak<\/a> The South Is Changing<\/a>","rttpg_excerpt":"In Kfarkila, the area located south of Lebanon’s Litani River, agriculture was never merely a source of livelihood; it was part of people’s lives. Olive trees gathered families during the harvest seasons and shaped the identity of an entire town. But that identity has begun to fade. According to Lebanese Agriculture Minister Dr. Nizar Hani,…","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16980","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/86"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=16980"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/16980\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/16954"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=16980"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=16980"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/silatwassel.com\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=16980"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}