The Israeli military has completely razed the southern Lebanese town of Naqoura, rendering it uninhabitable and deepening a crisis of identity and belonging for thousands of displaced residents. Among them is an elderly man named Ali, who a year earlier had stood outside his home and pointed to a crack in the foundation and fruit trees the Israeli military had ripped from the earth. He vowed to fix everything.
He never got the chance. The destruction of Naqoura is part of a broader pattern across southern Lebanon, where entire towns and villages have been erased by the ongoing war.
For Ali and countless other displaced Lebanese, the loss transcends physical shelter and strikes at the emotional anchors of their past and identity.
Erasure of Memory and Identity
In February 2025, the Israeli military withdrew from Naqoura as part of a ceasefire agreement. At the time, they left behind detonated homes, a school covered in graffiti, and power lines pulled out of the ground. Ali, determined to rebuild, faced mounting psychological strain as the conflict continued.
The void created by erased villages is not merely a matter of destroyed buildings. For families who have lived in these communities for generations, the landmarks of daily life–the school, the market, the neighbor’s house–have vanished along with the memories embedded in them.
Mental health workers on the ground have described a profound sense of disorientation among the displaced. People are not just homeless; they are anchorless. The physical geography that once held their family stories, their childhoods, and their sense of home has been wiped away. Ali’s fruit trees, pulled up by the Israeli military, will not grow back this season.
The foundation crack he pointed to is now part of a larger destruction that has made the whole town uninhabitable. Behind the breakthrough of the ceasefire, the reality on the ground has been one of continued devastation.
The war has not spared the emotional fabric of these communities. For the displaced, the question is no longer just when they can return, but whether there will be anything left to return to.
A Population Bearing Decades of Turmoil
Lebanon, a country in West Asia situated between Syria and Israel along the Mediterranean coast, has a long history of foreign rule and internal conflict. Once part of the Phoenician civilization, the territory later fell under Roman and Byzantine empires, then centuries of rule by Arab caliphates and the Ottoman Empire. After World War I, France administered the region until Lebanon gained independence in 1943.
The new government divided political power among different religious groups, a arrangement that has frequently led to instability. A civil war devastated the country from 1975 to 1990.
During different periods, Lebanon faced military occupations by Syria and Israel. The current hostilities represent the fourth Israeli invasion since 1978. These conflicts unfold alongside a severe economic collapse. Corruption and a major explosion in Beirut in 2020 contributed to a liquidity crisis and a failing currency.
This instability means that the destruction of homes and villages removes the few remaining anchors for a population already facing widespread poverty and resource shortages. As the conflict grinds on, the erasure of villages like Naqoura deepens the psychological wounds of a population already bearing the weight of displacement.
For Ali and his neighbors, the promise of fixing it all has become a memory of a hope that has since been buried under the rubble.
