Lebanon’s Children Bear Physical and Psychological Scars of Israel’s War
Al Jazeera English
Hundreds of children have been killed or wounded in Israel’s war on Lebanon, with many losing loved ones or being displaced and facing severe trauma. Experts warn of long-term consequences without a permanent ceasefire. The story of four-year-old Malaika, who lost her mother in a March 2 airstrike, illustrates the deep physical and psychological wounds inflicted on the youngest victims.
Beirut, Lebanon – Four-year-old Malaika was at home in Mayfadoun, southern Lebanon, when Israeli bombs began falling on March 2. Her mother immediately drove her and her sister to safety, placing baby Sara in the back seat and Malaika in the front. A shell struck near the car. Waking up in hospital hours later, Malaika had burns on her forehead and damage to her left eye requiring surgery. Sara sustained lighter injuries. The mother, who shielded Malaika with her own body, was killed.
Israel expanded its war on Lebanon from March 2, after Hezbollah retaliated against the assassination of Iran’s supreme leader. According to Lebanon’s Health Ministry, at least 3,613 people have been killed, including 245 children. More than 900 children have been wounded since the beginning of March. A ceasefire announced by US President Donald Trump on April 17 did not stop the attacks; since then, at least 40 children have been killed or wounded, according to Save the Children.
The war has displaced more than 1.2 million people in Lebanon, among them about 400,000 children. Many are sheltering with relatives, in safe apartments, schools, or tents.
Elissar Gemayel, response director for World Vision Lebanon, said: “Children are bearing a disproportionate burden of the conflict. They are repeatedly displaced, their education is disrupted, they suffer psychological distress, and they are increasingly insecure about the future.”
Marianne Abboud, a mental health advisor for War Child, recalled the case of a displaced girl in Tripoli who, when agitated, “would hit her head against the wall.” Abboud stressed that many children have “experienced repeated violence and lost loved ones during critical development stages.”
Experts say children need a stable community with trusted adults to recover, but that remains impossible as Israel continues its attacks on Lebanon, including fresh airstrikes on Beirut’s suburbs on Sunday.
Nora Ingdal, country director for Save the Children Lebanon, said children need to return to stability in order to “begin healing and go back to school.” The organization is urging states to ensure compliance with international humanitarian law, which has been violated through “the killing and wounding of children, denial of access to medical care and humanitarian aid.”
Aid workers note that the Lebanese government has responded more proactively than in previous crises. Still, with the massive number of displaced people, government efforts remain insufficient. The United Nations appealed for $308.3 million in aid in March, but has so far received only half of that target.
Davide Musardo, a clinical psychologist with Doctors Without Borders (MSF) who has treated children in Gaza, warned: “If this trajectory continues, we are talking about the potential for societal collapse.” He said psychological trauma could lead to “high rates of suicidal ideation among children.”
Three months after the attack that took her mother’s life, Malaika sat in the playroom of the Ghassan Abu Sittah Children’s Fund (GASCF) office in Beirut. Her face still bore scars on her forehead and left cheek. Her father and uncle sat on the sofa while Malaika colored a duck with a yellow pencil.
Social worker Sara Issa recounted: “She arrived in the emergency room with severe facial wounds and multiple pieces of shrapnel.” The family tried to tell her that her mother was in another room, but Malaika already knew the truth. As Issa—nine months pregnant—recounted the story, she burst into tears.
Musardo noted that children like Malaika sometimes blame themselves for their parents’ deaths. Early on at GASCF, Malaika was often fearful, but support from her family and social workers has helped her express herself more.
On the day of the reporter’s visit, Malaika was cheerful, smiling, and enjoying the attention of adults. She told her father she wanted to eat manousheh, a traditional Lebanese breakfast, with tomatoes and onions. She said she missed Mayfadoun, where her father used to take her to the corner shop for candy. The stores in Beirut are not the same.
As she colored, Malaika put down her yellow pencil and picked up a blue one: “This is the color of the tree. Mom told me a long time ago that it was its color.”
