‘Women are the backbone of war-torn rural South Lebanon — men make war, women make life ’

Munira Khayyat is Clinical Associate Professor of Anthropology at NYU Abu Dhabi. Speaking with Srijana Mitra Das in TE , she outlines South Lebanon, warfare — and its multispecies ecologies of resistance:

Munira Khayyat is speaking to us from Beirut. This, even as the city is being bombarded and Lebanon faces a massive military onslaught. TE feels guilty, nagging the anthropologist for an interview at such a stressful time — she graciously laughs away our apologies. Instead, she elaborates on her research, ‘I work on life and war. I see war as a place where life goes on and not necessarily only a space of endings. My work also tries to bring war closer, studying this as a nearer object, and recognising this space as where many lives in the Global South unfold over generations.’

Khayyat did her fieldwork in rural South Lebanon. She describes the area, ‘Here, the state of war has been shaping life since 1948. I did my ethnography on the margins of the nation-state, a neglected southern periphery under perpetual Israeli attacks and occupations. After 2000, this border zone was liberated from occupation but in 2006, a major war blew through and many villages were destroyed. The 2023-24 war has carried into now. My work started 2006 onwards. In my fieldwork, I realised war is inhabited as a condition — and resisted through practices that defy the objective of battle, which is to annihilate life.’

Khayyat thus came up with the idea of ‘resistant ecologies’ — multispecies survival practices created by people, animals and plants living together under unlivable conditions. Her book ‘A Landscape of War: Ecologies of Resistance and Survival in South Lebanon’ describes these strategies set amidst a stunning place. Khayyat says, ‘South Lebanon is one of the most antique landscapes of human habitation on the planet. It’s part of the cradle of civilisation — ‘nature’ here is the result of human presence and their companion species of plants and animals over millennia. This is a landscape of gentle terraces, olive orchards, laurel trees, woodlands and seasonal natural fires regenerating the land.’

However, there are newer, harsher forces at work. Khayyat says, ‘This area has seen both war and ecocide. The settler colonial consciousness aims for an empty land to control — but the resistant ecologies of this area keep defying those goals. The Israelis now know that alongside the military resistance they face here, they must contend with life itself. In 202324, they bombed South Lebanon with white phosphorus to ignite fires in the olive groves and ruin the harvest. In 2024, Lebanon suffered a war with many casualties. A ceasefire was declared then between Israel and Hezbollah but Israeli forces still detonated many villages, turning them to rubble. The village I did my fieldwork in was destroyed, as were several others, including incredibly rich historical sites.’

Yet, the villagers survive. Khayyat explains, ‘This landscape is perceived by its inhabitants as a place imbued with both life and spirits — people’s connection to this place is rooted in time. They have also adopted practices which stabilise their fragile existence. Tobacco is grown here, a cash crop first introduced by the Ottoman empire in the 16 th century, then expanded by French administrators, the monopoly transferred later to the Lebanese state.

Unlike olives, it is not indigenous to the area, nor grown for subsistence. It requires no irrigation, grows with less and needs only the labour of a household. It thus survives in the infrastructural poverty of this region, based mainly on the work of women who harvest, string, dry, cure and pack it. The state gets massive benefits from global markets but for the farmer in this battlefield, it is an economic lifeline. Without romanticising it, I call this a resistant ecology — the Southerners call tobacco ‘the bitter crop’, rooted in their poverty.’

The plant isn’t the only non-human ally here. Khayyat says, ‘Another resistant ecology is goats — they are amazing creatures, very clever and light-footed, climbing anywhere to forage. A goat costs less than a cow and needs less care. People have shifted from heavier livestock to goats who can walk nimbly through minefields laid along the border with Palestine — goats can forage without triggering mines designed to kill heavier humans.

They thus defy the technologies of death placed precisely to undermine life.’ In Khayyat’s view, the opponent has sensed the power of such resistance — and turned its weapons on it. She says, ‘For years, we’ve lived under the threat of drones and occupation. Now, the war machine has attacked these resistant ecologies. Earlier, they used a carcinogenic herbicide over Southern Lebanon to defoliate the green over the landscape. Troops even targeted a villager famous for his flock of 1,500 goats, killing all but 30. He moved to a nearby village with his 30 goats and courageously began building a new flock. When he took them foraging, they too were killed. Amazingly, he persists with nurturing his animals and planting his field. Resistant ecologies have become the frontline here.’

People draw strength from the land. Khayyat explains, ‘In this landscape, inhabitants embody layers of practical — and spiritual — connections to the earth. People don’t see land as just inert property — its locals see its giving qualities and its links with spirits, both good and mischievous or ‘djinns’. People recognise the powers held within the land — an interlocuter told me, this land of Galilee has shrines of prophets on every hilltop and trees with good spirits living on them. Both war and capitalism do not see these presences — they flatten these magical places. Recognising the power of the land to protect life is a strength of the people here, resisting war machines and capitalism which would otherwise just obliterate these places and their magic.’

TE, while glimpsing news visuals of buildings in Beirut being blown up, finally asks, is there a woman’s perspective of war? Khayyat replies emphatically, ‘Absolutely. These villages of resistant ecologies are held in place by women — the men are working abroad or in cities or fighting. The women cultivate and do productive labour — they hold the fort. Women nourish life and keep the place alive. Men make war — women make life.’ As we conclude, TE hears the chirruping of a small bird — perhaps a sparrow — behind Khayyat. We pray to the forces of good to protect all the birds and animals suffering human wars — and to bless the kind women who love them.

Views expressed are personal