Across the borderlands of Lebanon and the occupied West Bank, the echoes of conflict and the scars of recent violence are as visible as ever, despite official ceasefires and international calls for calm. Over the past year, Israeli military actions and settler violence have left communities devastated, homes demolished, and lives upended on both sides of the frontier, according to reporting from NPR and The New Arab.
In southern Lebanon, the village of Hula stands as a somber testament to the destruction that has unfolded since the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah took effect in November 2024. Abdul Aziz Chreim, a retired schoolteacher, returned to the ruins of his three-story home in September 2025, only to find a pile of stone and twisted iron where his family once lived. His library of over 1,000 books—collected over five decades—was lost in the rubble. "You feel that every book that is gone is a piece of you," Chreim told NPR. "Now it's gone. As if it never existed."
Chreim's loss is emblematic of a wider pattern of destruction in the region. Lebanon's National Council for Scientific Research has documented almost 500 homes destroyed after the ceasefire in just three border villages, with hundreds more damaged. The United Nations peacekeeping mission reported 405 Israeli airstrikes, rocket attacks, shellings, and shootings into Lebanon from November 2024 through July 2025, compared to just one attack from Lebanon into Israel during that period. The U.N. human rights office stated that at least 103 civilians had been killed in Israeli attacks in Lebanon since the ceasefire began. The Lebanese government reports a total of at least 4,375 people killed in Israeli attacks in Lebanon since the escalation began, including about 1,200 civilians.
Israel, for its part, maintains that its operations are directed at preventing Hezbollah from rebuilding its military capabilities and denies targeting civilians. In response to NPR's inquiries about the destruction of homes and civilian infrastructure, the Israeli military asserted, "It does not conduct strikes on civilian targets," but claimed that Hezbollah maintains military assets in populated areas.
Yet, the impact on ordinary Lebanese has been profound. In Hula, a monument commemorating nearly 100 Lebanese killed in the 1948 Hula massacre was desecrated, covered in graffiti and smashed. The message scrawled in Hebrew read, "the only good Shia is a dead Shia." Chreim, who found the names of his grandparents among the broken marble, lamented, "This is my past that has been wiped out. My present has been wiped out. My future is lost."
Other villages along Lebanon's southern border tell similar stories. In Maroun al-Ras, retired teacher Hussein Allawiyya lost his home after Israeli soldiers occupied and then destroyed it following the ceasefire. Even after Israeli withdrawal in February 2025, Allawiyya found the area unrecognizable—his family's graves bulldozed, the local cemetery erased, and only a makeshift trailer left behind by former students for shelter, which was subsequently destroyed as well. "Our land means more to us than factories and money," Allawiyya said. "This is our heritage. This is the legacy of our fathers and grandfathers. Our families' graves are here."
Displacement and uncertainty are the new normal for many. Villages that once bustled with life now resemble ghost towns, their homes flattened, agricultural trees destroyed, and residents forced to rent elsewhere. Efforts to rebuild are met with danger: Israel has dropped stun grenades on civilians attempting to reconstruct their homes, according to United Nations peacekeepers. Even municipal trucks clearing rubble require the protection of Lebanese soldiers and U.N. forces to deter further attacks.
Some, like carpenter Abbas Jumma in Aadaysit, have returned to the ruins, determined to reclaim their land and dignity. Jumma set up a makeshift carpentry workshop amid the devastation, painting rocks in U.N. colors and flying banners to signal his peaceful intent. "I want to stay in my house on my land," he said. "If you are a native of the south, you can't go and live in Beirut." Despite the lack of running water or electricity, and with his wife living in a rented home in Nabatiyah, Jumma spends his days working and even dancing among the ruins, clinging to hope for a future return.
Meanwhile, in the occupied West Bank, violence has surged in recent days. On Sunday evening, November 2, 2025, Israeli soldiers opened fire in the town of Beit Furik, east of Nablus, fatally wounding 17-year-old Jamil Hannani. The following day, Ahmad Rabhi al-Atrash was shot dead by an Israeli settler near Hebron's northern entrance. The Palestinian Red Crescent Society reported that its teams were prevented from reaching al-Atrash in the Ras al-Joura area, contributing to his death. "Occupation forces left him bleeding until he died," the organization stated, adding that soldiers later took his body to an undisclosed location after summoning his family for identification.
Elsewhere, Israeli forces demolished two agricultural structures in Wadi Rahal, south of Bethlehem, and blocked farmers from Salfit from reaching their olive groves during the critical harvest season. Settler violence has also intensified: Palestinians herding sheep near al-Rashayida were assaulted and nearly had their animals stolen; in Jureish, south of Nablus, settlers set fire to a vehicle and scrawled racist slogans on homes and property. Hassan Mleihat, general supervisor of the al-Baidar Human Rights Organisation, told The New Arab that "these incidents are part of a growing wave of organised settler violence against Palestinian villages and towns." He added that such assaults often occur "under the protection of Israeli occupation forces, who prevented residents from reaching the area to extinguish the fires."
Settlement expansion continues apace. On November 2, settlers began establishing a new outpost on land belonging to Anata, east of Jerusalem. Bulldozers and machinery prepared the site for mobile homes, shielded by the Israeli army. Israeli forces also launched raids and arrests across the West Bank, detaining several Palestinians, including two women from Nablus: I’tizaz Abd al-Moneim Judallah and Dr. Manal al-Hajj Hamed Bardasawi, a university lecturer.
The cumulative effect of these actions—demolitions, land seizures, settler attacks, and military raids—has heightened fears among Palestinian officials of a broader confrontation. The sense of insecurity and dispossession is palpable, as communities grapple with the ongoing erosion of their homes, heritage, and hopes for the future.
As the dust settles over the borderlands, the question of return, restitution, and reconciliation remains unresolved for thousands of displaced families. Their stories, etched into the shattered stones and scorched fields, serve as a stark reminder that for many, peace is still a distant dream.
