Khiam, the last Shiite-majority town on the road leading to northeastern Lebanon, has once again become a flashpoint in a long-running conflict between Hezbollah and Israel. For its residents, many of whom have already endured decades of war and occupation, the ongoing hostilities have reignited old traumas and forced tens of thousands to flee their homes. The town’s strategic position, along with its symbolic significance to Lebanon’s Shiite community, has turned it into a crucial battlefield in what local experts describe as an existential struggle.
Following renewed fighting between Hezbollah and the Israeli army on March 2, residents of Khiam began to evacuate once more. Tens of thousands were displaced, many seeking refuge in Hasbaya, a predominantly Druze town in southern Lebanon. Volunteers, aided by the diaspora and a crisis unit set up by Khiam’s exiled mayor, have been providing support to some 220 families who settled there. The displaced marked Eid al-Fitr, the holiday celebrating the end of Ramadan, by distributing pastries and expressing gratitude to the hosts who sheltered them. Photographs published by Le Monde captured these moments of quiet resilience amid chaos.
Bassem Awada, Mohammed Al-Qreiss, and Ali Abdallah, three men in their thirties, were among those displaced. Stationed in Hasbaya’s center with a sign thanking local residents, they represented a generation of Lebanese who have endured multiple wars and repeated displacements. Each of them has placed their fate in Hezbollah’s hands. “We do not want war, but when our dignity is attacked and our homes are occupied, we have to defend ourselves,” Awada said, noting that he sometimes travels to Marjayoun, fifteen kilometers from Hasbaya, to check on his property as nearby combat rages.
Residents and volunteers point to the perceived failure of the Lebanese state to protect civilians. “The government said it would protect us, but it allowed Israel to maintain positions in Lebanon and create a buffer zone,” said Abdallah, a café owner. “When the Israeli army began bombing, the Lebanese army withdrew before the residents did. If the army does not protect us, who will, if not Hezbollah?” This sentiment underscores the militia’s role in the town’s defense, reflecting decades of historical memory and local politics.
Khiam’s significance extends beyond symbolism. Strategically located at the gateway to the Bekaa Valley and the historical heart of Lebanon’s Shiite community, the town sits at a critical junction connecting southern Lebanon to the northeast. Fayez Abou Abbas, a 91-year-old history teacher and former municipal councilor, described the situation as existential: “Hezbollah is ready to lose 10,000 martyrs rather than see Khiam fall into Israeli hands. Whoever controls Khiam has the Bekaa road open; the entire Bekaa could fall, and if that happens, southern Lebanon will be isolated.”
The intensifying conflict has also transformed southern Lebanon into a war zone largely cut off from the rest of the country. On March 22, the Israeli army bombed the bridge on the coastal highway linking Sidon to Tyre, completing the destruction of most crossings over the Litani River. Lebanese President Joseph Aoun condemned the attacks as “collective punishment against civilians” and a “prelude to a ground invasion,” underscoring the humanitarian implications for tens of thousands of trapped residents. Israeli Defense Minister Israel Katz defended the operations as measures to prevent Hezbollah reinforcements and neutralize threats near the border, drawing comparisons to buffer zones established in Gaza.
Khiam’s residents have lived through repeated cycles of occupation and reconstruction. During the 1977 Israeli invasion and subsequent South Lebanon Army administration, many residents were forcibly displaced. Khiam’s infamous prison, used as a torture center under Israeli oversight, cemented the town’s grim legacy. Hezbollah’s rise in the 1980s transformed the area into a stronghold, ultimately restoring local control after Israel’s withdrawal in 2000. Alongside Amal, Hezbollah invested in civilian institutions, rebuilding the community with support from the diaspora and Gulf countries. Once dubbed the “Merkava cemetery” for the heavy losses inflicted on Israeli tanks, Khiam became a peaceful town again, even attracting residents who had returned from the Gulf and Western countries to build homes and villas.
That fragile peace shattered after Hezbollah entered conflict with Israel in support of Hamas, following the October 7, 2023 massacres in Gaza. The town was heavily contested during the autumn 2024 war, with the Israeli army demolishing neighborhoods after the ceasefire. Families, including the Abou Abbas family, saw homes razed for the second time in a decade. “I couldn’t even find where my plot was. Khiam has been turned into a little Gaza,” recounted Kamal Mehanna, a doctor from Khiam and founder of the Amel aid organization.
Despite the destruction, residents returned early in 2025 to begin reconstruction. Awada, Al-Qreiss, and Abdallah pitched tents near the town square, surrounded by rubble and memorials to fallen fighters. Over 1,000 families gradually rebuilt homes with minimal state support, relying heavily on diaspora funds and local initiatives. Fayez Abou Abbas spent $27,000 to restore his single-story house, including a library of 10,000 books. In just five months, municipal authorities reinstated essential infrastructure, including water, electricity, sewage, and roads, bringing a semblance of normalcy before the latest wave of violence.
The renewed conflict has forced yet another exodus. Many families fled during the night of March 2–3 after receiving warnings, scattering across southern Lebanon and beyond. In the Byblos region, three generations of women from Khiam—Mayssam Haidar, Rim Abou Abbas, and her daughter—have had to relocate multiple times, leaving behind homes and personal belongings in haste.
Residents place their hope in Hezbollah, whose fighters are mobilizing to defend Khiam and surrounding villages. “It is the final battle that will determine the fate of our villages and whether we will return to our land,” said Rim Abou Abbas. Many see no alternative; even amid skepticism about Hezbollah’s long-term prospects, they insist that Lebanon’s culture of resistance will endure. At the same time, internal tensions flare, as some Lebanese express hostility toward the Shiite community. “For the first time in my life, I feel that we are hated,” said Abdallah, reflecting the social and political fractures amplified by the war.
As the battle for Khiam intensifies, the town stands as both a symbol and a strategic pivot in southern Lebanon. Its fate may determine the broader trajectory of the conflict, influence the balance of power between Hezbollah and Israel, and define whether displaced families can ever safely return home.
