Fear of a massive escalation between Israel and Hezbollah has plunged many Lebanese into despair, exacerbated psychological problems and revived trauma from past conflicts in the war-weary country.
A 29-year-old woman who lives near the southern city of Sidon said she was afraid of the thunderous, explosive bangs of Israeli jets, which regularly break the sound barrier.
“I feel like the house is collapsing on me… Sometimes I feel cold… or start crying,” said the woman, a contract worker for a non-governmental organization.
She was 11 years old when war began between Israel and the Lebanese Hezbollah in the summer of 2006. She said bombs fell near her house.
“Sometimes you remember it subconsciously,” the woman said, asking for anonymity in a country where mental illness is often stigmatized.
“These sounds cause flashbacks – sometimes you feel like you’re back in time,” she said.
Since Hamas’s attack on Israel on October 7 sparked the Gaza war, Hezbollah has engaged in almost daily cross-border shelling with the Israeli army in support of the Palestinian armed group, leading to rising tensions.
Lebanon has been on a knife edge since Hezbollah’s top military commander was killed in an attack on Beirut’s southern suburbs last week, just hours before the assassination of Hamas political leader Ismail Haniyeh in Tehran, for which Israel was blamed.
Iran and Hezbollah have vowed revenge, fearing retaliation could lead to all-out war. Airlines have suspended flights to Lebanon and countries have urged foreign nationals to leave the country.
– Panic attacks –
“I was already suffering from anxiety and depression… but my mental health has worsened since October,” said the woman, who can no longer afford therapy because the hostilities have reduced her ability to work.
“People are afraid of the future,” she said.
Before the 2006 war between Israel and Hezbollah, Lebanon suffered a grueling civil war between 1975 and 1990, which led to Israel invading the south and laying siege to Beirut in 1982.
According to an AFP count, more than 560 people have already died in the current cross-border violence in Lebanon, most of them fighters, but also at least 116 civilians.
On the Israeli side, including in the annexed Golan Heights, 22 soldiers and 26 civilians were killed, according to army sources.
Laila Farhood, a professor of psychiatry and mental health at the American University of Beirut, said “cumulative trauma” had led to stress, anxiety, depression and post-traumatic stress disorder among many Lebanese.
“Individuals pass their fears on to their children as intergenerational trauma,” she told AFP.
“What is happening now is triggering past traumas,” says Farhood, who specializes in war trauma and its impact on Lebanese civilians, triggering panic attacks in some people.
On Tuesday, Israeli jets broke the sound barrier over central Beirut, creating violent sonic booms that shook windows and nerves, just two days after the anniversary of a catastrophic explosion at Beirut’s port in 2020.
“I had my first panic attack,” said Charbel Chaaya, 23, who is studying law in France and lives with his family near Beirut.
“I couldn’t breathe, my legs felt numb… in that very first moment you don’t know what that sound is – just like what happened on August 4,” he said.
– ‘Uncertainty’ –
Layal Hamze of Embrace, a nonprofit that runs a mental health center and suicide prevention hotline, said people in Lebanon are now “more sensitive to any noise.”
“The adrenaline level is already high. It’s a stressful situation,” said Hamze, a clinical psychologist.
“It’s not just the explosion in Beirut,” Hamze added.
“The natural or automatic reaction” is to be afraid, she said, and while “the older generation may be a little more used to” such noises, they could trigger “a collective trauma.”
Some social media outlets called for people to stop setting off fireworks – a common practice during celebrations – and humorous sketches were also circulating, poking fun at difficulties such as flight cancellations.
Coping mechanisms vary widely: Some people “go out partying,” while others “reach out more to the community,” which makes them feel like they are not alone, Hamze said.
Dancer Andrea Fahed, 28, whose apartment was damaged in the port explosion, said she panicked when she heard this week’s sonic booms.
She said she is “lucky” to be a dancer because in her community, “we laugh together, we move together… you let go of a lot of things.”
However, she said the “uncertainty” was a constant struggle and now leaves her windows open for fear that another explosion could destroy everything.
“Anything can happen,” said Fahed.
“If it is happening in Gaza with this intensity, why shouldn’t it happen here?”
