The Beirut Blast, the largest non-nuclear blast in history, devastated the lives of hundreds of thousands of people. More than 200 dead. 5,000 injured. 300,000 homeless. All of this as a result of 2,750 tonnes of ammonium nitrate that was carelessly stored in the vicinity of civilians. All as a result of 2,750 tonnes of governmental corruption and incompetence.

For Syrian refugees who had escaped the perpetual monstrosity of their own government, the initial relief of escaping death in their own country was insurmountable. The relief of escaping the government which has the blood of more than half a million people on its hands. The government which has the destruction of more than 12 million refugees lives on their conscience. Their arrival to Lebanon, while it may have provided a fleeting moment of relief, soon made them realise that while they may not die from bombs or explosions, the economic turmoil and lack of legal rights they faced in the country may as well have suffocated them. 

In a time where it seems like they are destined to be forgotten, whether it is by their own brutal government, the international community or the Lebanese authorities, the Beirut Blast proved to be just one more way in which ‘unfortunate circumstances’ plunged these Syrian refugees and their stories deep down below the rubble once again. 

FRESH WAVE OF MISERY 

Since 2011, Bashar Al-Assad’s ruthless oppression and bloody civil war has pushed approximately 1 million Syrian refugees into Lebanon. For the overwhelming majority of these refugees, however, Lebanon was far from being the safety-net they were yearning for. Despite Lebanon’s initial policy of hosting the refugees until it was safe for them to return, the Lebanese government soon proved that the glimmer of humanity it was showing was fleeting. High profile politicians such as Gebran Bassil, leader of the Free Patriotic Movement (the largest political party in Lebanon), soon seized the opportunity to shift the blame for the tumbling economy from the Lebanese government’s incessant corruption to the Syrians, despite roughly a quarter of deposits held in Lebanese banks belonging to Syrians. 

For the majority of Syrian refugees who ended up in Lebanon each day they survive is considered a victory. Each day that they are able to find a way to work, despite the restriction on their employment rights in Lebanon and its fractured economy, is a win. Each day where they do not go to sleep on an empty stomach because the hyperinflation means that they could not even afford bread, is a triumph. Each day that they find themselves able to pay for one more night’s sleep in some sort of roofed lodging or another is a success. Thus, while the Beirut Blast removed any glimmer of security from Syrians who had once already fled the destitution of their own country, their lives in Lebanon before the blast were far from ‘safe’. When the explosion detonated, rippling its shockwaves across Beirut and beyond, not only did it destroy the lives of hundreds of thousands of people, but it set off the ticking time-bomb which was looming over the Syrian refugees’ lives long before the 4th August. 

Out of the 200 people that died, 43 of them were Syrian refugees who were working in the port at the time of the explosion. Like the majority of the poor in Lebanon, these Syrians’ existence was insignificant. The majority of these victims’ bodies remain missing- their existence wiped away without any hint of accountability. 

THE PRICE OF DEATH: 70 CENTS 

The stories of the Syrian refugees whose lives were destroyed or stolen away by the Beirut Blast are harrowing. The majority of these refugees’ voices, however, have been silenced. No one to turn to. Nothing left to seek refuge in. For one particular victim, however, the tragic end to his life came at a price so high, yet simultaneously so low. Having been engulfed by the economic turbulence in Lebanon, the 27-year-old man (whose family have asked to keep his identity kept anonymous), was working in the port for only 20,000 Lebanese Liras a day, a wage that works out to be less than $3.  A wage so low that even before the soaring prices and plummeting currency value, he would have only just been able to make ends meet. 

When his manager at the port enticed him with an extra 5000 Liras to work an additional shift on the day of the blast, he jumped at the opportunity. In a time of utter destitution, an extra 5000 liras, the equivalent to just 70 cents, seemed to be an opportunity which could not be missed. Having fled the war in Syria, this man unknowingly bought his ticket for death for less than a dollar. At 6.07pm, as the 2,750 tonnes of explosive materials ignited in the port, not only did they shatter the glass of homes and offices of Beirut and beyond, but they also shattered the dreams of thousands of Syrians like this man who saw Lebanon as their chance for a fresh beginning. 

This was not the case for this man. This was not the case when his existence was eradicated. This was not the case for the 43 Syrian refugees who were living in such economic despair that they were clutching at any opportunity to gain a few more cents. Rather, what they thought was a new beginning turned out to be the begging of the end. All of this as a result of corrupt politicians who would rather wipe away the existence of the poor and desperate than risk belittling their own existence by being held accountable for the atrocities they have unleashed. 

WHO WILL REMEMBER?

Two months after the Beirut Blast, the wounds of all the victims remains fresh. But for Syrian refugees who were already floundering, whose existence was already on the brunt of collapse in Lebanon, and who had already fled destruction only to be faced with another, the situation seems more dire than ever. 

Thus, a pressing question comes to mind. Who will remember the Syrians who lost their lives? Who will remember those who have once again become refugees after having started to rebuild themselves in a country they sought refuge in? It seems clear that neither their own government, nor the governments they have fled to are willing to make amends for the callousness of their actions. Until the international community becomes a commanding voice for these disregarded victims, the accountability and justice they deserve will get further and further away. 

These Syrian refugees were already forgotten once. Forgetting them again would be a grave injustice. 

{The story of the Syrian Refugee man was recounted to the author by a grass-roots Lebanese NGO called Ward Association. Ward works on ground in Tripoli, Lebanon, focusing on the physical and mental health of men, women and children, as well as child education. It also provides psychological support to victims of trauma.]

Sarah is a third year undergraduate student studying BSc Philosophy, Politics and Economics at the University College London. She has a keen interest in human rights - with a particular interest in Middle Eastern Affairs due to her Syrian origins.

LinkedIn