Fleeing Israeli bombs, Lebanon's displaced met with suspicion

BEIRUT, Lebanon — Israel's bombardment of Hizbollah's south Beirut stronghold has forced tens of thousands to flee to the city centre, but many in sectarian Lebanon view the newcomers with suspicion, worried they too might become targets.

For weeks, Israeli strikes have widened in pursuit of Hizbollah members, leading many Lebanese to shun civilians from the same religious community as the Iran-backed group.

"Our neighbours found out we were housing people from Dahiyeh [Beirut's southern suburbs] and they panicked and started asking questions," said 30-year-old Christina, asking to be identified by only one name.

She took in displaced people but soon asked them to leave after neighbours, concerned the newcomers might be Hizbollah fighters, bombarded her with messages.

Hizbollah, the only side to retain its arsenal after the 1975-90 civil war, has strong support within Lebanon's Shiite Muslim community.

But Lebanon remains split over the group's decision to open a front against Israel in solidarity with Gaza and drag the country into war.

Lebanon's power-sharing system divides authority among 18 religious sects, with Shiites, Sunnis and Christians maintaining a fragile balance.

Many are still haunted by the civil war, which saw families displaced and homes seized, with the latest Israel-Hizbollah war reviving distrust and sectarianism in the divided country.

"There are growing tensions and suspicions towards displaced people because they are from the same religious group as Hizbollah," Christina said.

"Some people are scared that one of their family members might be a target and they don't want to risk" it, she told AFP.

'Bearded men' 

After nearly a year of cross-border clashes, Israel intensified its bombing campaign on September 23, killing more than 1,110 people, according to an AFP tally of official figures.

More than one million people, about a sixth of Lebanon's population, have been displaced, many flocking to Beirut which is now overwhelmed.

The influx has strained services in the crisis-hit country, with traffic congestion, disruptions to daily life and garbage piling up on the streets.

According to the education ministry, 973 public schools around the country have become makeshift shelters, with 773 of them unable to welcome any more displaced.

Panic gripped Souheir, a 58-year-old homemaker, after a displaced Shiite family moved into her building.

The women wore chadors, a full-body robe that is an unfamiliar sight in central Beirut.

"We've been seeing more women in chadors, bearded men and young men in black -- a sight we're not used to seeing," she added.

Souheir admitted she was not immune to the general paranoia.

When she went for coffee at a friend's, she saw bearded men on the balcony -- displaced relatives who sought refuge there.

She cut her visit short because she worried they could be Hizbollah members.

"People are looking at each other with suspicion on the streets," she said. "They're scared of each other."

Tensions are also high outside Beirut, where Israeli strikes have hit displaced people beyond Hizbollah's strongholds, including in the Druze village of Baadaran.

"People used to rent out houses to anyone at first, but now they're being extra-cautious," said Emad, 68, who lives in a Druze village about an hour away from Baadaran.

Elie, 30, who asked to be identified only by his first name, said no one in his Christian village had rented out to the displaced, who mostly live in shelters nearby.

"People are scared because we can't know if there are Hizbollah members among" them, he said.

"They also fear that the displaced could stay in the apartments permanently or semi-permanently since many of their houses were destroyed."

Civil war memories 

Incidents of displaced people breaking into empty buildings in search of a place to sleep have revived memories of the civil war, when more than 150,000 people were killed and militias seized homes.

Last week, police said "a very small number" of displaced people broke into private properties and that they were "working to remove them".

Businessman Riad, 60, said his sister-in-law had been house-sitting their central Beirut apartment after repeated enquiries about rentals.

"We experienced this in the '70s and '80s. Even if you asked an acquaintance to live in your house," armed groups would seize the apartment anyway and give it to displaced families from their own community, he said.

"It took some people a decade before regaining their house... This is why people are panicking," he added.

"It happened once and it will happen again."