For Manal Matar, displacement is not a new experience—it's a family inheritance. Her grandparents fled Acre in 1948 during the founding of Israel and sought refuge in Lebanon's Rashidieh camp near Tyre. Nearly eight decades later, Matar found herself packing up once again, this time fleeing the sounds of explosions that shattered the fragile stability her family had built.
On March 2, after Hezbollah launched attacks in response to the killing of Iran's Supreme Leader, Israel dramatically escalated military operations across Lebanon. The bombardment near Matar's home forced her family onto roads filled with the sounds of warfare for more than a day. They are now sheltering in the Beddawi refugee camp in Tripoli, in northern Lebanon, living with relatives. "God protect us that this situation won't last longer than this," Matar said, her voice heavy with the weight of generational trauma.
The scale of the displacement is staggering. Israeli authorities have issued evacuation orders affecting more than 14 percent of Lebanon's territory, including southern regions where Palestinian refugee camps are concentrated and the densely populated suburbs south of Beirut. Israeli Defense Minister Israel Katz stated this week that those displaced "won't return home" until northern Israel is secured—a declaration that offers displaced families little hope of imminent resolution.
This latest crisis unfolds against a backdrop of repeated violations. Though a ceasefire nominally took effect in November 2024, the United Nations and Lebanese government have documented over 15,000 Israeli violations since then, resulting in hundreds of deaths. For Palestinian refugees like the Matar family, the conflict represents not just immediate danger but the prospect of permanent loss—a fear rooted in their first displacement nearly a century ago.
Originally reported by Al Jazeera English. Rewritten for ABN12.