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On the night of 17 November, around 40 diaspora members gathered at , a Lebanese restaurant in the chic 16th district of Paris, not so far from the Eiffel Tower. They are members of the collective Emergency Lebanon (Urgence Liban), which was set up in September to respond to the needs of the 1.2 million people who are displaced due to the Israeli war on Lebanon.��

“So far, we have sent 3,000 euros to Lebanon and we have collected in-kind donations that will be shipped soon,” Hassan Daher, from the coordination committee of Emergency Lebanon, told ������.��

Hassan arrived in France in 2004 at 18 and now runs several pharmacies. When the conflict escalated to an all-out war in September, he started a WhatsApp group that quickly turned into a collective.��

“First we reached out to the political parties here, as we assumed they would be active in organising aid,” he recalls.��

"The common denominator for all Lebanese is that Israel represents a danger to our territorial sovereignty and we believe that what is happening in Gaza is a genocide"

Emergency Lebanon quickly shifted gear: although some volunteers are politically affiliated, it has now distanced itself from all parties.

“Priority is given to unity. Today the common denominator for all Lebanese is that Israel represents a danger to our territorial sovereignty and we believe that what is happening in Gaza is a genocide,” Hassan says.��

“One way to counter the deadly offensive is to maintain our unity, this war is a war against the civilians in Lebanon, [Israel] is trying to divide us.”

Emergency Lebanon was set up specifically to respond to the war, while other initiatives led by the Lebanese in France have existed for years. According to official figures, 250,000 Lebanese, including those with dual citizenship, are believed to reside in France permanently.��

One such initiative is the Lebanese Events in Paris (), which aims to “gather the Lebanese, the French-Lebanese and lovers of Lebanon, and help them nurture a relationship with Lebanon through cultural and festive events since 2015,” George Aoun, its founder, explains.��

In 2019, the association — whose WhatsApp group has 1,000 members — shifted part of its action to respond to the needs in Lebanon in the face of the growing crisis.

“Since then, we have been sending one luggage of medicine per month,” George tells ������.����

Another initiative, the Euro Lebanese Medical Society () began in 2018 as a networking opportunity for Lebanese healthcare workers across the European Union. But since 2020, it has become more of a “humanitarian mission,” its founder Elie Haddad, an endocrinologist who arrived in France in 1990, explains.��

"The Lebanese inside Lebanon are more tired than us, and our country is our heart”

Much like Emergency Lebanon, Elie insists that the association is “apolitical and non-religious — the only way to unite the Lebanese.”

The ELMS started collecting medical supplies such as gloves and surgical drapes after the Beirut Port Blast. “Between 2020 and 2023, we sent seven containers,” Elie Haddad explains.��In 2023, the association stopped its relief activities. “We reverted to our scientific conferences and cooperation missions in Lebanese hospitals.”

After mobilising in 2019 during the thawra, or revolution, the Covid-19 pandemic, the Port Blast in August 2020, and the economic crisis that peaked in 2021, the Lebanese in France are mobilising through such initiatives again, this time to respond to yet another violent crisis.��

In just two months, the groups organised charity events, donation campaigns and in-kind collections throughout the country.����

“The feeling of powerlessness drives our involvement. At least, when we take action, we don’t stand idly by, in front of the television," Anne Monhem, an Arabic and English teacher who has been living in France since 1995, says.

“We have a saying in Arabic: ‘What you cannot change with your hands you can change with your heart’.”��

There is a consensus among the diaspora: being ‘outside’ of Lebanon is far from easy. Anne Monhem and Elie Haddad both considered going back to Lebanon to be with their loved ones during this war. The doctor underlines “a sense of responsibility and a duty to help.”

Georges acknowledges that while tiredness is present, it is impossible to stop helping: “The Lebanese inside Lebanon are more tired than us, and our country is our heart.”

His association responded to this crisis swiftly. However, Georges Aoun wishes to avoid the trap into which previous aid efforts have fallen: in Lebanon, clientelism and corruption are rampant, and the aid distributed after the Port blast was marked by a flagrant lack of transparency.��

So far, Lebanese Events in Paris has raised more than 8,000 euros, spent on covers, mattresses, infant formula, and fuel to heat the accommodations for the displaced people in the district of Jezzine.��

“We send money to our representative in Lebanon, who in turn meets with the army, and remains present while the army purchases the items,” George explains.

“We need to be very transparent to maintain the donors’ trust. The most difficult aspect of our action today is to have transparency over every step of the process,” Hassan Daher from Emergency Lebanon doubles down.

“Aid is centralised at the Prime Minister level, through the High Commission for Relief. The process is lengthy,” Hassan said, explaining that it is also costly, as containers staying in the port are subject to a parking fee.��

At the time of publication, it was still unclear whether or not aid entering the country would be subject to customs duties.

“We are still studying which option is best: sending aid to an NGO, through the Lebanese army, or the Lebanese Red Cross,” Hassan said.����

The Euro Lebanese Medical Society opted for the latter. Their first container is currently on its way to Lebanon and will take three weeks to arrive, while a second is being prepared.��

“After the blast in 2020, we understood that although the States are prompt to respond to emergencies, their priorities shift quickly,” Elie says.

“Our containers will arrive when the needs will still be high, and we will continue to provide aid as long as it is needed.”

Once again, the diaspora in France will likely be an invaluable support to a population who cannot rely on its State.��

Laure��Delacloche is a French freelance journalist based in Beirut, Lebanon, She focuses on social issues, especially how crises impact women. Her work has appeared in French and international outlets and is a member of Solvo, a solutions-oriented collective of journalists

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