The Israeli military has begun the systematic demolition of entire villages in south Lebanon, using massive remote detonations to raze civilian homes to the ground. Through a process of rigging structures with explosives and triggering them from a distance, the military has effectively wiped out residential areas in border towns, leaving thousands of displaced residents with no homes to return to.
Evidence of these operations has emerged through military-posted videos and social media footage, which document the mass destruction of the villages of Taybeh, Naqoura, and Deir Seryan. While Lebanese media outlets have reported similar detonations in other border communities, independent verification via satellite imagery has not yet been readily available for all claimed sites.
The scale of the destruction follows a directive from Israel’s Minister of Defence, Israel Katz, who called for the demolition of “all houses” in border villages. Katz stated that this approach should be “in accordance with the model used in Rafah and Beit Hanoun in Gaza,” a strategy intended to eliminate threats to northern Israeli communities. In Rafah, the Israeli military destroyed approximately 90% of homes during its operations in southern Gaza.
This strategy of rendering entire residential areas uninhabitable has been described by academics as “domicide.” Human rights organizations warn that such wide-scale destruction may constitute a war crime, as international laws of war prohibit the deliberate destruction of civilian housing unless It’s absolutely necessary for lawful military reasons.
Military Objectives vs. Humanitarian Impact
The Israeli military maintains that these demolitions are targeted strikes against Hezbollah infrastructure. Officials claim that the armed group has embedded tunnels and military facilities within civilian homes, necessitating the total destruction of the buildings to neutralize these assets.
However, legal experts and rights groups argue that the presence of military assets in some buildings does not justify the erasure of entire villages. Ramzi Kaiss, a Lebanon researcher for Human Rights Watch, stated that the possibility of Hezbollah using some civilian structures “does not justify the wide-scale destruction of entire villages along the border.”
Beyond the immediate physical destruction, there is growing concern regarding the long-term displacement of the population. Israel has indicated its intention to occupy vast swathes of south Lebanon, establishing a “security zone” extending up to the Litani River. Under this plan, displaced residents would be barred from returning to their homes until the safety of northern Israeli cities is guaranteed.
The Human Cost of ‘Domicide’
For the people of these border villages, the detonations have erased more than just concrete and steel; they have destroyed generations of family history and personal identity. Many residents watched the videos of their homes exploding in real-time from afar, experiencing a sudden and total loss of their ancestral anchors.
Ahmad Abu Taam, a 56-year-old construction supply shop owner from Taybeh, described the horror of seeing his town square—and his livelihood—vanish in an instant. “The first thing we saw was the town square being blown up. I have a shop there. A person’s whole life is in that place, their work, their memories, everything. Suddenly you spot it exploding in front of you,” Abu Taam said. “From that moment, I felt that I had become a refugee. I perceive like I have no home.”
Abu Taam’s experience is one of repeated trauma. He had been displaced during the 2024 Hezbollah-Israel war, but he had returned to rebuild his shop from scratch, driven by the joy of reclaiming his life. “When you arrive, it feels like you’ve found something you lost. But this time, everything is gone. Everything has been wiped out,” he said.
In Deir Seryan, 50-year-old farmer Ahmad Ibrahim is left with only a handful of photographs. He had fled his home on March 2, leaving behind a lifetime of records and memories, expecting a swift return. “My whole life is there, I’ve never really left beyond 10-13km. It’s a beautiful, typical village – at least it was before the war,” Ibrahim said.
Ibrahim spoke of the cruelty of the timing, as Lebanon enters the spring season. He mourned that his children would spend the blooming months displaced rather than in the fields they remember. “The children remember the quality times – spring and summer evenings, going out to the fields, collecting flowers and herbs, having dinner outdoors, making tea over a fire,” he said. “For the children, it was a beautiful place to grow up.”
Destruction of Livelihoods and the Diaspora Anchor
The demolitions have also targeted significant economic investments. Dr. Mohammed Hashem, 65, spent 15 years working 18-hour days to fund the construction of the Luna motel in Naqoura. Built in 2012, the hotel was a cornerstone of the seaside town’s tourism, hosting foreign travelers, Lebanese vacationers, and UN peacekeepers.
“In summer, occupancy would reach 100%. We received good ratings and awards. We were happy – living peacefully, with good productivity,” Hashem said. “It really was a family business.” When the hotel was destroyed, Hashem reported receiving thousands of messages of support from former guests who had loved the establishment.
For many, these villages were more than just residences; they were the primary link for a global diaspora. Families from southern Lebanon are scattered across Europe, Africa, and Australia, but the border villages served as a physical and emotional anchor. During the spring and summer, the population of these towns would often double as the diaspora returned to family homes.
“People would build houses worth a million dollars just to stay for a week or 10 days a year. The village becomes the centre of the family,” Abu Taam explained. “Because no matter where you go, you always long for your home. The place where you grew up, where you first felt at ease.”
The Future of the Border Zone
The current campaign of destruction creates a reality where return is not just legally barred by the military, but physically impossible. By removing the housing stock entirely, the Israeli military ensures that any future “security zone” will be devoid of the civilian populations that once inhabited it.
The psychological impact is described by residents as a form of erasure. “You feel a deep sense of frustration,” Abu Taam said. “Like someone has the power to erase you.”
The international community continues to monitor the situation as the Israeli military maintains its presence in the south. The next critical phase will depend on whether diplomatic efforts can establish a framework for the return of displaced persons or if the “security zone” becomes a permanent fixture of the landscape, leaving the villages of Taybeh, Naqoura, and Deir Seryan as ruins.
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