Lebanese Diaspora Mobilizes Financially Amid Conflict at Home

CANTON: Every week, Mirvet Makki sets aside earnings from her catering business to assist displaced residents of Lebanon affected by the conflict between Israel and Hezbollah militants.
Makki, 47, who prepares Lebanese specialties such as couscous stews and traditional kibbeh balls in the Detroit suburb of Dearborn Heights, arrived in Michigan in 1990. Yet her attachment remains to her hometown of Bint Jbeil, now among the hardest‑hit regions of southern Lebanon.
Nearly every Lebanese American has been touched by the recent fighting, which has displaced over one million people — about one in six Lebanese — and claimed more than 3,500 lives. This constitutes Israel’s deepest incursion into Lebanon in over twenty‑five years.
“What can I do for others?” Makki asked. “Thus I turned to my business.”
Even as living costs rise in the United States, she notes, “the modest amount I can spare is sent to my family.”
In metropolitan Detroit, Arabic signage decorates eateries, cafés, and bakeries along busy suburban avenues, creating a backdrop of collective sorrow as the crisis unfolds thousands of miles away.
Like Makki, many experience guilt and uncertainty. Assisting relatives who cannot or will not leave a nation grappling with an escalating economic downturn proves challenging.
“Honestly, it is difficult. What words can I offer?” Makki reflected. “If I am at work, they may have lost their jobs; if I am at home, they may have lost their homes.”

The global diaspora has shaped Lebanon

Lebanese migration to the United States began in the late 19th century. Current estimates place the Lebanese‑American population at roughly 625,000, with some projections reaching 1.4 million.
Views on the Lebanese government, Hezbollah, and Israel differ widely within the diaspora, reflecting Lebanon’s sectarian composition — approximately equal numbers of Sunnis, Shiites, Christians, and a smaller Druze community.
Regardless of these divisions, the diaspora continues to maintain strong ties to the homeland, facilitated by the billions of dollars it sends back each year.
“In essence, there can be no Lebanese homeland without the diaspora,” observes Edward Curtis, director of Arabic Studies at Indiana University.

A population who relies on each other

“When they witness the suffering in Lebanon, the community’s instinct is to unite, raise funds, and support one another,” explains Akram Khater, director of Lebanese Diaspora Studies at North Carolina State University.
Most depend on mutual assistance rather than seeking aid from Washington.
Curtis notes that many Lebanese Americans have become disillusioned with U.S. politics and now focus on celebrating Lebanese culture amid threats to its survival.
Maya Attoui, whose parents remain in Beirut, is coordinating a Detroit‑area fundraiser to aid Lebanon and increase public awareness of the conflict. Although she lacks sufficient personal resources to assist all of her relatives, she hopes the event’s activities and speakers will attract significantly greater contributions.
“We no longer feel inclined to speak or cook at home,” Attoui says. “We are constantly on the phone or glued to the news, our hearts aching with each update.”

A financial lifeline

While remittances flow globally, Lebanon’s economy is especially reliant on its extensive diaspora; a prolonged financial crisis has positioned the U.S. dollar as the de facto currency.
Makki traveled to Lebanon in February and observed sharply rising prices: where $200 once covered a car rental and hotel stay, it now sustains only a single dinner.
Some donors turn to online crowdfunding, yet many prefer directing aid directly to family members.
Makki limits each contribution to $10,000 to avoid scrutiny, joking, “Perhaps I will travel there myself someday.”
Nadia Bryant, 37, of Troy, Michigan, regularly sends funds to her half‑sisters in Lebanon, who are housed temporarily after their village of Ayta ash‑Shab was invaded by Israeli forces.
Rather than using the money for personal needs, Bryant explains that her sisters allocate it to assist orphaned children, stating, “They already have shelter; this person needs a mattress.”
On WhatsApp, her sister shared a photo of a steaming teapot amid the ruins of their former home, captioned, “Best cup of tea since 9 October 2023.”
“I no longer inquire, ‘How are you?’; it seems trivial,” Bryant says. “Instead I ask, ‘What does today look like?’ or ‘Where are you today?’.”
Attoui, who organizes the fundraiser, has repeatedly urged her relatives to relocate to the United States since her arrival in 2006. They decline, and the U.S. halted immigrant‑visa processing for Lebanese nationals in late January.
“I possess aunts and cousins there,” she remarks. “How many people can we possibly bring here?”

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