William Christou
The Guardian / August 8, 2024
Despite official calls for calm, people are making contingency plans in case of another full-scale conflict with Israel
The bargain bins of the upmarket grocery in the Achrafieh area of eastern Beirut are filled with offers that are unusual for its high-end clientele. On sale: 40 rolls of toilet paper, 6-litre jugs of water, 10kg bags of powdered detergent, 5kg of sugar.
Shoppers are ignoring the French cheese and heading straight to the canned goods. Their carts are stuffed with nappies, cartons of UHT milk and dried beans.
“We’re getting the food that will last the longest. We have no idea what the coming days will bring,” Charbel Kiwan, a fruit and vegetable supplier, said while shopping with his wife and their two children.
The family had been resolved in the morning to go shopping, but rushed to the store after Israeli jets broke the sound barrier three times in a row on Tuesday afternoon, rattling windowpanes across the Lebanese capital.
As warplanes boomed across the city, the head of Hezbollah, Hassan Nasrallah, was giving a speech, vowing revenge against Israel. Both the Lebanese militant group and Iran have said a “strong” retaliation against Israel is imminent, blaming Israel for last month’s killing in Beirut of Fuad Shukr, Hezbollah’s most senior military commander, and the assassination in Tehran of Ismail Haniyeh, the political leader of Hamas.
How and when that retaliation will come remains unclear, with US officials twice revising their predictions of an Iranian response. As diplomats scrambled to defuse the conflict, Nasrallah said on Tuesday: “Israel’s week-long wait is part of the punishment and retaliation.”
The anticipation is also weighing on the Lebanese people, who, despite 10 months of brinkmanship after Hezbollah’s opening of the northern front with Israel, feel that this time a full-scale conflict is possible.
“We don’t think that a war will happen, but this is the first time it seems so dangerous,” Kiwan said, his cart full of canned vegetables and bags of rice.
“Inside we feel … Well, it’s been hard,” his wife added, letting out a long sigh.
Mental health experts have said the looming prospect of war has contributed to a “continuous anxiety” in Lebanon that is having long-term effects on people and their ability to plan for the future.
“We’re receiving frequent calls from individuals who are worried about the potential of a full-scale war in Lebanon,” said Mia Atwi, a clinical psychologist and president of the Lebanese mental health hotline Embrace. Atwi added that people often ignore their long-term mental health in times of crisis, instead focusing on securing their basic needs such as shelter, food and safety.
Lebanese officials have said there is no need to panic or to hoard goods. Informed by the experience of the 2006 war with Israel, fuel and medicine importers have been making contingency plans in the case of another conflict.
“As far as the food supply is concerned, there is absolutely no problem. We have a two-to-three-month supply of goods, which is a reasonable benchmark,” said Hani Bohsali, the head of Lebanon’s Syndicate of Food Importers.
Similarly, the head of the syndicate for petrol station operators confirmed to the Guardian that there was at least a month’s worth of fuel stock in the country.
While food and fuel storage depots may be at full capacity, distribution could be a challenge if a war breaks out. In 2006, Israel bombed highways, bridges and other civilian infrastructure, making transport of supplies from storage facilities to market impossible.
“In 2006, Israelis were hitting transportation trucks because they could be potentially carrying arms. I had a warehouse with thousands of tons of food, but I wasn’t able to distribute it,” Bohsali said. “There’s absolutely no shortage right now, but whether or not we can distribute it or not, that’s impossible to predict.”
Official calls for calm holds little sway because of widespread distrust of the government, which is generally viewed as corrupt and incompetent. Messages are forwarded across WhatsApp groups urging people to start fueling their cars, sparked by an alarming piece of news or the flurry of rumours swirling around social media.
Not everyone in Lebanon can afford to plan for a disaster. The country is still deep in a five-year-long economic crisis during which the national currency has lost 95% of its value.
“Prepare? There’s no money,” a immigrant worker said while shopping, asking to remain anonymous. “I wanted to buy a big bag of rice, but it’s too expensive,” they added, gesturing to their shopping basket that held a single bundle of bread and a small bag of basmati rice.
William Christou is a Beirut-based journalist, focusing on human rights investigations and migration issues
