October 18, 2024
For generations, people working and living in agricultural centers have shared a deep connection to their land. It’s not just about cultivating a crop; it’s sharing a rich history of knowledge and a dedication to preserving the local environment. This is the way of life in the Bekaa Valley, Lebanon’s agricultural heartbeat sitting between its two mountain ranges. It contains around half of all the wineries in Lebanon, one of the world’s oldest wine regions. The olive trees there have lived for hundreds of years.
But now, Israeli airstrikes—some containing white phosphorus—have contaminated the land, and the damage to the environment, the economy, and the people could last for generations to come.
Residents face threats to “their safety, their ability to sustain their livelihood, their day-to-day activity, their ability to generate an income, their ability to go to school, to use the local services, to maintain their social practices,” says Antoine Kallab, associate director of American University of Beirut’s Nature Conservation Center.
The smoke from white phosphorus ammunition is highly toxic and can ruin soil, destroy ecosystems, and create raging fires. Around 60 percent of citizens outside greater Beirut rely on agriculture and related industries for some form of income, according to USAID. Kallab says this population is already highly vulnerable due to rising costs, corporate competition, and climate change.
White phosphorus isn’t the only danger; Kallab says that any piece of ammunition that hits a natural environment is weakening it. The resulting impact chain causes a “significant interruption to what we need as human beings to have a healthy life.”
Kallab recently spoke with a family of olive farmers. The tests on their olive oil samples came back clean, but the panic has already set in. “By exposing a particular piece of land to white phosphorus, you’re turning it into a minefield... Because you don’t need to see the mines, you don’t even need to have mines… all you need to prevent people from going into a particular piece of land is just putting a sign in front of it that says ‘Beware Mines.’” This kind of psychological warfare, he explains, also affects the economy.
Kallab sees a ceasefire as not only a humanitarian imperative but also an environmental and agricultural one. He fears farmers displaced from their fields will seek new jobs outside of their lifelong communities. “We never know if they’ll be able to go back to these practices, which are essential at the national level and for them.” Looking ahead to recovery, Kallab says a multifaceted environmental revitalization at the outset is crucial: adopting better conservation and sustainability standards, rethinking construction codes, and developing stronger land management policies.
As long as the humanitarian crisis continues, the diminishing of quality of life will only intensify. Health care, education, food, clean water, and other necessities will become increasingly difficult to access. “This is what you need to lead a happy, prosperous, safe, and secure life… this is the standard that everyone on the planet aims for,” Kallab notes. “The standard is not [just] being alive.”