Migrants in Lebanon displaced again as Mideast conflict escalates

Among the nearly one million people displaced in Lebanon are some of the roughly 170,000 migrant workers not counted by the government. Many came to Lebanon fleeing wars in their homelands or simply looking for a better life. Now, conflict again plagues them in their new home. Special correspondent Simona Foltyn reports from Beirut.

Read the Full Transcript

Notice: Transcripts are machine and human generated and lightly edited for accuracy. They may contain errors.

Amna Nawaz:

We return now to the wider impacts of the war with Iran, which has reignited fighting between Israel and the Iran-backed extremist group Hezbollah in Lebanon.

Beyond the more than 900 reported dead in Lebanon, nearly one million there are now displaced. Among them are some of the roughly 170,000 migrant workers not counted by the government.

Geoff Bennett:

For many, Lebanon was supposed to be a place of refuge, a chance to escape the war or build a better life. Now violence has found them again.

Special correspondent Simona Foltyn reports from Beirut.

Simona Foltyn:

This Jesuit church has been a parish for migrant workers for about 40 years. Now, as Israeli bombs rain down on Beirut, it has become their sanctuary.

Father Doug Jones, Saint Joseph Jesuit Church:

We welcome migrants in these spaces. They usually don't stay here. But that's where we -- we give what people need. And, right now, people need housing and food and a safe place.

Simona Foltyn:

Around 200 migrant workers are sheltering here. They came to Lebanon looking for stability and work from countries around the world plagued by conflict and poverty.

Almas is from Ethiopia and works as a cleaner in Beirut. She lives in Jinah (ph), a seaside neighborhood that came under Israeli bombardment in the first days of the war.

Almas Asaminu, Ethiopian Migrant Worker (through interpreter):

I was very scared. I was sleeping in my undergarments. I ran out, grabbed my clothes, got dressed outside, then ran to the seaside. There were so many people. Then I came here at around 3:00 in the morning.

Simona Foltyn:

Brother Michael Petro runs the shelter as part of the Jesuit Refugee Service.

Michael Petro, Jesuit Refugee Service:

Almas has called me. I saw her number. I knew, OK, when I wake up, people are going to be here. That is exactly what happened. On Monday morning, by the time I woke up, there were already several dozen people in the church.

And so we knew by the end of the day we were going to be completely full.

Simona Foltyn:

Schools turned government shelters are off-limits to the migrant community.

Almas Asaminu (through interpreter):

They don't accept me because I'm a foreigner. The school shelters are only open to Lebanese and Syrians.

Simona Foltyn:

Many here have nowhere else to go, not in Lebanon, not in their home countries. Almas' husband is Sudanese and was killed when he went back to his home region of Darfur. Returning to Ethiopia isn't an option either.

Almas Asaminu (through interpreter):

I married a Muslim, and I'm a Christian. My brother and my family didn't accept that. That's why I have to stay here.

Simona Foltyn:

Migrant workers in Lebanon are governed under the kafala or sponsorship system, a restrictive and exploitative legal framework binding their legal status directly to their employer.

The migrant community ranks among the most vulnerable people in Lebanon during the best of times. On any given day, they grapple with abuse, racism and discrimination, all enabled by the so-called kafala system, which grants their employer or sponsor significant control over their lives. Now, these vulnerabilities are felt much more acutely during times of war.

When this latest war broke out, the church was the only shelter in Beirut that would accept migrants.

Michael Petro:

Migrants always fall through the cracks in the humanitarian system here in Lebanon. Part of that is that the -- is the -- exactly what you're talking about, is the way in which the legal structure here is designed to exploit and to make migrants invisible.

Their invisibility makes it such that people don't see them as anything more than people who serve, right, people -- they're not people to be served. They're people who serve.

Simona Foltyn:

The church is located in Beirut's Christian area of Ashrafiyeh. The closest Israeli strike hit a building nearly 300 yards away in an adjacent Muslim neighborhood.

Michael Petro:

Yes, we felt it here in the church. Windows rattled, set off car alarms. You can feel it in your body when it's that close.

Simona Foltyn:

Authorities in Ashrafiyeh have largely refused to take Shia Muslims fleeing a war amid fears that Israel might start targeting Christian areas too.

Though marginalized, the migrants are excluded from the sectarian equation.

Michael Petro:

And the political tensions that are existing right now around displaced persons and the conflict in Lebanon, their invisibility allows us to welcome them, right? So the tensions that are coming with other displacements are not affecting migrants as much.

Simona Foltyn:

In a world where religious and sectarian rifts appear to be widening, the church is a microcosm of peaceful coexistence. In the evening, the Muslim community gathers for iftar to break their fast during the month of Ramadan.

This woman fled the Sudanese war in 2023 with her husband and three kids. Her home in the capital Khartoum was destroyed, her uncle killed. Lebanon seemed like a safe option back then. Her husband found work as a building attendant in the south. Now their town is one of dozens under Israeli evacuation orders.

She wanted to remain anonymous.

Woman (through interpreter):

There were calls instructing us to leave the area. We left on foot because we don't have a car. We walked for 12 hours until we met some Syrians who gave us a ride.

Simona Foltyn:

After a long journey and the cold nights spent sleeping outdoors, they too were turned away at a government shelter.

Woman (through interpreter):

They said, no, the priority is for the Lebanese, the foreigners later.

Simona Foltyn:

It's unlikely the family will be able to go back any time soon. The fighting is most intense in the south, where Israel has launched a fresh ground offensive.

Meanwhile, the clock on their six-month visa is ticking.

Michael Petro:

But when migrants are displaced, they lose their job, which means they lose their residency, they lose their legal status, they lose their home. The minute your contract breaks, you lose your residency, which just makes it very difficult to flee war if your employer would like you to stay put.

Simona Foltyn:

The kafala system has forced some migrants into impossible choices to keep their jobs or to save their lives.

For the "PBS News Hour," I'm Simona Foltyn in Beirut, Lebanon.

Listen to this Segment