Housing 1,000 people in permanent structures will not solve displacement—it will institutionalize it and invite the next war to do the same.
File photo: The Aug 4, 2020 deadly blast at the Beirut Port devastated the capital and rocked Lebanon as the result of the illegal storage of 2750 tons of Ammonium Nitrate. The silos ( L) protected the capital. If it wasn’t for the silos most of Beirut would have been leveled by the explosion which killed over 220 people, injured about 7000 people and left 300, 000 homeless. The Iran-backed Hezbollah militant group has been for years trying to get Judge Tarek Bitar who is investigating the blast fired, reportedly because it is concerned about exposing its role in supplying the Syrian government with the explosive chemical for use in its barrel bombs.
By Ali Hussein: Lebanese Political Analyst , Op.Ed.
“How many more mistakes can Lebanon afford before they become permanent?”
The plan to build a displacement center in Karantina must be scrapped—immediately.
Let’s be clear: a facility designed to accommodate up to 1,000 people addresses less than 0.1% of the more than one million displaced Lebanese. This is not a solution. It is a symbolic project with very real and dangerous long-term consequences.
Karantina is not just another site. It is prime coastal land at the northern entrance of Beirut—the face of the capital. Turning it into a semi-permanent displacement hub risks reshaping Beirut’s identity for decades to come.
Lebanon has seen this movie before.
Dahieh did not emerge overnight. It began as an emergency response to displacement—waves of people fleeing conflict, settling wherever they could. Over time, temporary became permanent. Unplanned became entrenched. And what started as necessity evolved into a heavily populated stronghold that altered Beirut’s southern gateway forever.
Now, the same model is being proposed in Karantina.
MP Nicolas Sehnaoui is right to call this project “a misguided decision in every respect.” He is not alone. Multiple MPs have warned Prime Minister Nawaf Salam that this project risks creating another Dahieh—this time at the northern entrance of the capital.
This is not fearmongering. It is experience speaking.
Lebanon must absolutely help the displaced. No one is arguing otherwise. But how it helps matters just as much as whether it helps. Emergency relief must remain temporary, flexible, and geographically distributed—not concentrated in one politically and economically sensitive location.
Because once permanent structures are built, they do not disappear. They expand. They entrench. They reshape demographics, security dynamics, and political realities.
Lebanon must help the displaced with dignity. But it must not make a historic mistake in the process.
And then they become untouchable.
There is also a deeper, uncomfortable truth: Lebanon is once again being asked to absorb the consequences of a war it did not choose. A war driven by Hezbollah’s regional agenda—not Lebanon’s national interest.
If Hezbollah can finance war, it—and those backing it—should finance reconstruction. The Lebanese state should not be pressured into redesigning its capital to accommodate the aftermath of decisions made outside its control.
Lebanon has alternatives. Existing shelters, schools, and facilities across the country can be mobilized. Reconstruction in affected areas can and must be accelerated. The goal should be return, not permanent relocation.
Because every permanent displacement structure sends a dangerous message:
No, it should not.
Lebanon must draw a line.
Karantina must not become another Dahieh.
And Prime Minister Nawaf Salam must cancel this project before a temporary fix becomes a permanent national disaster like the Beirut Port
