A Generation Trapped in Limbo

According to a World Bank assessment of the 2023-2024 conflict, the war in southern Lebanon has generated an estimated 14 milliards de dollars in economic costs alongside 7 milliards de pertes directes in direct losses, disrupting regional agriculture, commerce, and tourism while fundamentally altering the life trajectories of a generation. In cazas like Nabatiyé and Marjeyoun, thousands of young professionals and students find their futures reduced to short-term survival, delayed milestones, and a pervasive sense of uncertainty.

Economic Toll and the Devaluation of Higher Education

For years, families across southern Lebanon treated university degrees as an ultimate safeguard against financial volatility. That long-standing social contract has fractured under the weight of roughly 166.000 lost or impacted jobs, according to World Bank figures. Nader, a master’s degree recipient who completed his studies just weeks before hostilities escalated, described the reality facing graduates. “I finished my master’s a few weeks before the war. I thought I would start my professional life. Today, I’m waiting,” he said, noting that his education no longer guarantees an independent livelihood.

The collapse spans multiple economic pillars. Agriculture, trade, services, and tourism—traditionally the backbone of the south’s economy—have absorbed direct blows, leaving degree-holders to accept misaligned jobs, temporary missions, or rely entirely on parental support. Nour, a marketing graduate from Nabatiyé, put it simply: “My diploma is still there,” pointing to an economic infrastructure incapable of absorbing its workforce.

Forced Maturity and Shifting Family Roles

The prolonged crisis has compressed the timeline of adulthood, thrusting teenagers and early-twenties students into caregiving and financial support roles. Samira, a displaced resident from Kfarkila, detailed the sudden shift experienced by her household. “My twenty-year-old daughter became an adult in a few months,” she said, explaining that the young woman manages younger siblings, accompanies her grandmother to medical visits, and works remotely whenever internet connectivity allows.

Mental health professionals report that this abrupt transition carries psychological consequences. Nouhad Haddad, a psychologist working with displaced families, observed that young people display persistent anxiety, sleep disturbances, and a sense of disproportionate responsibility. Ali, a 22-year-old from Nabatiyé, captured the emotional cost: “In a few months, I stopped being a student. I became the one who looks for something to feed the house.”

The Rise of Provisory Living and Brain Drain

Long-term planning has become an unattainable luxury for many southern residents. Sociologist Rania Daher notes that prolonged conflict teaches young people to stop investing in the future because stability feels entirely out of reach. From delayed marriages and paused home purchases to abandoned five-year plans, the concept of the “proviso” has replaced forward momentum.

Nadim, a 27-year-old civil engineer from Ebl el-Saqi, contrasted his previous ambitions with his present circumstances. “Before the war, I thought about building houses. Today, I’m simply looking for a salary. I no longer make five-year plans. I think about next month,” he said. For engineers like Lamia from Bint Jbeil, whose peers have relocated to Canada, Germany, and the United Arab Emirates, staying behind brings constant doubt in the absence of local alternatives.