A Letter from a War Diary

Today, I reflect on the decisions made by politicians—the kind that shape nations and people’s lives. From the outside, it may seem like a simple matter of power, but the truth is far more complex. There are facts that don’t reach us. There are invasions, like the ongoing one in Lebanon. Moments ago, we heard of ground forces entering the country. At the same time, Palestinians continue to be imprisoned and displaced, adding to the growing crisis in the region.

I am a product of that system. For 15 years, I lived through the prosperity Lebanon once had, only to be forced to leave due to corruption and instability. But Lebanon is not alone. Across the region, we all share this experience of suffering. It's a strange and bitter feeling—on the one hand, witnessing the assassination of leaders by Israel’s intelligence, and on the other, watching politicians try to respond, making decisions that feel inadequate or misguided.

Recently, over 100 countries determined that Netanyahu was unfit for power. But even with such widespread consensus, things have changed. His loyalty to the destruction of the enemy has taken precedence, regardless of the collateral damage caused. Words alone cannot capture the hatred or the desperate hope I feel for a better Lebanon and a peaceful region. Politicians may talk endlessly, but their speeches often fail to touch the reality of people forced to flee their homes into uncertainty.

Even I question my own connection to Lebanon. Should I return? Should I build a new life there? It is, after all, my homeland. Yet, I can’t help but wonder—who am I to make such decisions? First, we need safety. Then, perhaps, we can think about restoring order. But there’s no simple roadmap to follow. No step-by-step guide will lead us through these uncertain times.

What I am sure of is that I must remain hopeful—for Lebanon, for the region, for humanity. Politicians may not always make decisions with the people's best interest at heart. Sometimes, it’s about power, influence, or resources. But we—ordinary people—have a responsibility to care for one another, to remind ourselves that we share one planet. Right now, our future is uncertain, and it’s not just Lebanon or the region at risk. The whole world is at stake.

One of the Arab leaders once said, “We just want peace. We want to live within our borders, free from interference.” Isn’t that what we all desire? Peace. A life where beauty, hope, and extraordinary possibilities can flourish. I cannot imagine a future without Lebanon. It’s my home, and I am sure that anyone living far from their homeland feels the same.

This isn’t just about ending wars. It’s about reconnecting with our humanity.