It has been nearly seven years since Lebanon became trapped in a series of crises that have touched almost every aspect of daily life. The country of around six million has endured a devastating financial collapse since 2019, the Beirut Port explosion in 2020, and conflict with Israel since 2023.
Headlines often focus on the visible toll: economic hardship, damaged homes, lost lives, and communities uprooted.
But another victim often goes unnoticed — the growing strain on people's mental health and rising concerns over suicide.
A silent casualty of Lebanon's collective trauma , suicide and mental illness remain difficult topics to discuss openly, with stigma persisting in parts of society even as more people seek help.
But in recent years, organisations working alongside the Lebanese government have sought to strengthen mental health support, creating lifelines for those in crisis and expanding access to care. Alarming numbers The New Arab spoke to Agatha Abboud, manager of The National Lifeline, a partnership between the Lebanese Ministry of Public Health's 'National Mental Health Programme' and the non-profit organisation Embrace.
Official figures suggest suicide remains a significant concern in Lebanon, although experts believe the true scale of the issue may be larger than available data shows.
While official figures are collected by Lebanon's Internal Security Forces, Agatha noted that deaths by suicide are often underreported due to stigma and other factors.
"Whatever data we have is only the deaths by suicide that have been reported," Agatha shares with The New Arab. Since 2019, Lebanon has consistently recorded more than 100 suicide deaths each year. While the numbers fluctuate annually, reported deaths increased by 14 percent in 2025 compared with the previous year.
"There is one person attempting suicide every six hours and a death by suicide every two to three days," Agatha added. At the same time, more people appear to be seeking support before reaching a crisis point.
While the service typically received around 40 calls per day in previous years, call volumes have risen sharply since becoming a toll-free service, reaching more than 60 calls daily in 2026 — a 50 percent increase compared to the previous all-out war in 2024.
Interestingly, the hotline initially saw call volumes decline during the 2024 fighting.
Agatha said this reflected a pattern often observed in wars, where people prioritise immediate needs such as shelter, safety and medical care over their own mental wellbeing. Years of trauma The increase in those seeking help reflects the cumulative impact of years of upheaval.
"The community has endured several traumatic events over the years, and now seeking help has become something essential for them. It is something that they cannot deprioritise anymore," Agatha continues. People calling the hotline include those displaced by the war, individuals grieving loved ones, and families who have lost homes and livelihoods.
Many seek emotional support, while others are referred to psychological services, shelters or healthcare providers.
But one trend has been particularly concerning.
During visits to shelters and displacement centres, Agatha said staff have noticed more people expressing passive suicidal thoughts than they did during previous periods of conflict.
"We realised that more people actually talk passively about suicidal thoughts. More people say, 'I wish I could end my life' or 'I wish I didn't exist anymore', because of the sense of hopelessness that is happening," she said.
The observation, she added, points to the psychological burden created by years of uncertainty and repeated displacement. Who is seeking help? The largest group contacting the National Lifeline is adults aged 18 to 34, though the service receives calls from people across all age groups.
Children and teenagers frequently report bullying, violence or difficulties at home, while older callers often struggle with loneliness, health problems or existing mental health conditions.
"It is not easy to answer which segment of society concerns me the most," Agatha said.
"Anybody at any age can have thoughts of suicide or can have a mental health crisis. Regardless of age, whether they are displaced or not, it's an emergency, and they need to be supported."
One statistic revealed something interesting, challenging common assumptions about caller gender.
"The percentage of male callers to the National Lifeline is almost similar to the percentage of female callers," she said.
While men are often considered less likely to seek professional psychological support, Agatha said hotline data suggests many are willing to reach out during moments of crisis. Breaking stigmas Despite growing awareness around mental health, stigma remains a barrier for many Lebanese.
"There is, for sure, a stigma about mental health in Lebanon, about seeking help in general," Agatha said.
In some communities, she explained, people are encouraged to rely on family, friends or faith rather than professional support.
Discussions around suicide remain particularly taboo. In these communities, even admitting that a person took their own life may bring shame to the family due to both cultural and religious reasons — in the Christian, Muslim, and Druze faiths, committing suicide is often seen as a sin.
At the same time, Agatha believes attitudes towards the subject have gradually begun to change.
Awareness campaigns, school programmes and advocacy efforts have contributed to a noticeable shift in help-seeking behaviour over the past decade.
The government's decision to make the National Lifeline a toll-free service also represented an important milestone.
By placing the service alongside emergency numbers such as the police, civil defence and the Lebanese Red Cross, she said authorities sent a message that mental health deserves the same level of attention as other public emergencies. A growing safety net Today, the National Lifeline is supported by 120 volunteers to ensure the hotline remains available around the clock, every day of the year.
"They are the ones actually sustaining the National Lifeline," Agatha explained.
"The fact that they are all volunteers makes it more of a mission than anything else."
Yet while demand for support has increased, Lebanon continues to face a shortage of mental health professionals.
According to Agatha, access to specialised care remains concentrated in major urban areas, particularly Greater Beirut, leaving many residents in remote regions such as Akkar, parts of the Bekaa, and parts of southern Lebanon with fewer options.
To address these gaps, the Ministry of Public Health has sought to strengthen primary healthcare centres nationwide, integrate mental health support into existing services, and expand psychiatric care in some hospitals.
But even with this, Agatha said the country lacks enough psychologists and psychiatrists to meet growing needs.
The challenge is compounded by Lebanon's long-running brain drain. Mental health professionals often pursue specialist training abroad and may choose not to return if they find better opportunities elsewhere.
"This is part of the dynamic of the country," she said.
Despite these obstacles, Agatha pointed to an outpouring of civic engagement following the Beirut Port explosion and subsequent crises.
Professional associations, charities and volunteer networks have worked alongside public institutions to offer free and low-cost support to people in need.
Many organisations, including the Lebanese Psychological Association, have created pools of volunteer professionals willing to provide free consultations and emergency assistance.
Still, she acknowledged that resources struggle to keep pace with demand.
"The more the crisis is painful, the more the needs are," Agatha said. "Services would never necessarily be enough." The burden of resilience Lebanese people are often praised for their resilience, a word frequently used to describe a population that has endured political and economic turmoil.
But for Agatha, the term carries mixed feelings.
"Sometimes you feel proud because you are resilient," she told The New Arab . "It is the only way to cope."
Yet resilience has limits.
"I don't think that there is any generation alive in the country that has not been through some major life-changing event, collective life-changing event," she said.
At times, she argued, the expectation that Lebanese people will continue adapting to hardship can become a burden in itself.
"What does it mean to be resilient? In this situation, if someone needs health care, whether psychological or medical, and cannot access a hospital, how can I describe them as a resilient person?" said Agatha. "Resilience, in my opinion, can only be measured starting from what you can endure once your basic needs are met, and not actually when your basic needs are not there," she added. Perhaps the greatest danger, she suggested, is that the label can obscure the need for help.
"Maybe others want to help you, but because you're Lebanese, because you're resilient, supposedly you don't need help," she said. "But in reality, it's not so." Visit the Embrace website to find out more about The National Lifeline Louay Faour is a journalist at The New Arab focusing largely on the Levant, with a particular interest in Lebanese affairs. He is an Arabic speaker and previously worked on the online news desk at The Daily Star Lebanon. He also contributed as a volunteer writer at LevantX. Follow him on Instagram: @LouayFaour