HARET SAIDA, Lebanon — Israel’s evacuation warnings in southern Lebanon have transformed daily life into a state of permanent upheaval, emptying villages, killing families who could not flee in time, and prompting experts to accuse the military of using the alerts to forcibly displace the civilian population.
The war erupted on March 2, when Hezbollah launched a surprise barrage of missiles into northern Israel after holding its fire since a 2024 truce. Israel responded with a massive aerial campaign and ground operations. Since then, the Israeli military has issued 132 online evacuation alerts, including seven covering more than 50 towns since a nominal ceasefire took effect on April 17, according to an Associated Press tally.
The warnings arrive without pattern: texts pinging thousands of phones, automated calls from strange international numbers, hard‑to‑read maps posted on social media by the Israeli military’s Arabic‑speaking spokesperson, Lt. Col. Avichay Adraee. Some maps cover broad swaths of the country; others pinpoint individual buildings. Often, no warning comes at all before the bombs fall.
Ward Zein al‑Din, 56, said she was in her southern village when her father received a call from the Israeli military that made him scream. Minutes later, glass shattered from shrapnel. “I didn’t think we would survive,” she said. The family fled and is now sheltering in a school.
The military says it issues the warnings by phone, text, radio broadcast, social media, and leaflets dropped from the air, in accordance with the “principles of distinction, proportionality, and feasible precautions” under international law. Its stated aim is to keep civilians away from Hezbollah fighters, tunnels, and weapons that the military says are positioned in civilian areas.
But legal experts say the practice violates international law when it turns into a tool for mass, open‑ended displacement. “A legal tool is being used to achieve forced displacement,” said Hussein Badreddine, a Lebanese expert in international law at the University of Sydney. “When you evacuate entire areas and keep the orders open‑ended, that’s when the legality comes into question.”
A family killed after a middle-of-the-night warning
The night of April 4 encapsulated the deadly gap between the warnings and the reality on the ground. Hussein Farran had already fled his village of Kafr Tebnit and was staying in Nabatiyeh. His wife, Rola Nahleh, their 4‑year‑old daughter Amal, and several other relatives had gone to the village of Kfar Hatta, about 17 kilometers outside the red‑shaded zone on Adraee’s map.
At 11:29 p.m., Adraee posted an urgent warning telling residents to leave Kfar Hatta. It was one of 26 overnight warnings the military has issued during the war. Nahleh called her husband, describing hundreds of people fleeing in their pajamas. The family decided it was safest to wait out the chaos until daybreak.
Two Israeli missiles hit their apartment around 3 a.m., killing Nahleh, her mother, father, brother, sister, and Amal, who had just started kindergarten. Farran stood days later before their graves — cardboard signs smeared with handwritten Arabic, a proper burial made impossible by the war.
“Even if they gave us a warning, how does it justify killing a civilian family?” Farran said. “They weren’t given a real chance.”
Kristine Beckerle of Amnesty International said late‑night alerts on social media are not meaningful protection. “When warnings are issued in the middle of the night, on platforms that not everyone uses, you can’t expect everyone to get up and leave immediately,” she said. “You have people stuck on the road for 12, 13 hours trying to leave. You have elderly people who can’t move quickly.”
Strikes without warning, and warnings without strikes
There was no warning on April 8, when Israel struck a hundred targets in rapid succession, killing more than 350 people, including in downtown Beirut. It was one of the deadliest days in Lebanon’s modern history. The military said Hezbollah commanders and operatives “were expected to be present at many of the sites,” but it remains unclear how many Hezbollah members were killed. More than 100 of those killed were women and children.
Contradicting patterns further erode trust in the alert system. Earlier this month, Israel warned it would bomb the main border crossing between Lebanon and Syria, forcing it to close for several days. The strike never came.
“There is no safety at all”
Ali al‑Salim, his wife, and three sons fled their village of Siddiqin after receiving a phone call from a German country code. The caller identified himself as an Israeli officer and ordered the family to evacuate north immediately. They spent 18 hours in bumper‑to‑bumper traffic before reaching a school in Haret Saida.
“There is no way to know if a call is real or fake,” said Roland Abi Najem, a Lebanese cybersecurity expert. “The Israeli military benefits from the chaos that helps create a mass exodus.” The military declined to comment on how it calls Lebanese numbers.
Days later, al‑Salim learned his home had been hit by an Israeli missile. The shelter proved just as dangerous. On April 8, a strike on a neighboring Shiite mosque, where displaced people took showers, knocked his 14‑year‑old son Ali unconscious and shredded his left leg. Now using crutches, the boy said, “The bombing can happen at any moment. There is no safety at all. I’ve never felt this kind of fear.”
The ceasefire has done little to dispel it. Mohammad Shahadat waited a week after the April 17 truce to return to his hometown of Shaqra, encouraged by neighbors who said the situation was calm. Days later, he was back in a flimsy tent in Beirut after yet another Israeli warning.
“We didn’t know where to go,” he said.
The United Nations says more than 115,000 people remain in collective shelters, with large numbers of displaced still unable to return home. The military’s stated plan to occupy a 10‑kilometer‑wide buffer zone along the border and prevent residents from returning until the Hezbollah threat is eliminated suggests the displacement may be protracted.