Qlayaa, Lebanon - The birds are still singing in south Lebanon, but they are faintly heard over a soundscape that - after two and a half years of war and broken ceasefires - has become familiar there.
Deep explosions echo in the distance while an armoured convoy of UN peacekeepers trundles past. Overhead, a surveillance drone buzzes incessantly to the occasional roar of an Israeli jet.
The hilltop town of Marjayoun overlooks the Litani River valley to the west, the stated objective for Israel’s ground troops during its most recent war with Hezbollah . To the east, Khiam, the war-scarred village that now lies behind Israel’s so-called ‘yellow line’.
Styled after a similar military strategy deployed in the besieged Gaza Strip, the yellow line marks the new boundary of Lebanese territory now under Israeli occupation - a ribbon of land roughly 10km deep north of the border.
The boundary, marking what Israel calls its “security zone”, was declared on 18 April, shortly after a ceasefire that in south Lebanon exists in name only, with both sides accusing each other of breaching it.
But as Israel entrenches its hold on the south, and continues a sweeping campaign of controlled demolitions , many displaced Lebanese fear they are witnessing the start of a long-term occupation that will never allow them to return home.
“The yellow line is an Israeli ambition,” Dr Hamid Hajj, a resident of the predominantly Christian village of Rmeish, told The New Arab over the phone. “It hopes that this area will one day belong to it.”
Located just over 1km from the border, Rmeish is one of a handful of villages behind the yellow line where a few thousand residents have chosen to remain, despite being almost entirely cut off from the rest of the country.
Hajj and his neighbours depend on humanitarian convoys to bring them water, food and petrol, all of which he says they are running low on.
Christian villages in the south have sought to stay out of the conflict and have received veiled threats from the Israeli army to do so. In Marjayoun, officials were warned to refuse sanctuary to their Shia neighbours , or else the town could be bombed too.
While Marjayoun has been spared much of the destruction that has engulfed southern Lebanon, which is predominantly Shia Muslim , it is not unscathed. A parish priest was killed by Israeli shelling in March, and the town’s water pumping station was bombed, leaving residents in a deteriorating humanitarian situation. But like Hajj, those still living in the shadow of Israel’s yellow line refuse to leave their villages.
“No one will leave, under any form of pressure,” Hajj said. “We would rather die on our land and in our homes.”
The few that remain fear that if they do leave, there will be nothing left to return to.
Hajj has witnessed several rounds of Israeli invasion and occupation in his lifetime. Unlike the 1982–2000 occupation , he says this time Israel is not merely taking control of southern towns and villages but is systematically destroying them. He said that the ground often trembles from distant explosions in other villages.
Israel’s mass demolitions have virtually wiped out dozens of villages in a matter of weeks, mostly south of the yellow line. Israel says it intends to eradicate Hezbollah from the border area to protect its northern residents.
But statements by Israeli officials, and video evidence of massive, controlled demolitions shared by the Israeli military on social media, suggest there is a broader aim to make the border area permanently uninhabitable .
Footage shows entire neighbourhoods, some centuries old, disappearing instantly into clouds of dust along with the memories of the people that lived there.
Added to the ruins are a 12th-century shrine in Chamaa , believed to house the remains of Saint Peter, revered by both Muslims and Christians, and the 400-year-old Great Mosque in Bint Jbeil - both irreplaceable examples of Lebanon’s heritage.
Lebanese authorities estimate roughly 62,000 homes have been damaged or destroyed since the beginning of March alone. That is adding heavily to the already widespread destruction left behind by the previous war in 2024. The destruction of civilian infrastructure is considered a violation of international law and a potential war crime.
One of the few remaining witnesses to the devastation of south Lebanon is UNIFIL, the UN peacekeeping force in Lebanon, which has had six troops killed since March in three separate incidents.
“We're the only ones who are really here to see this,” UNIFIL spokesperson Kandice Ardiel told The New Arab from her office in Naqoura, which also lies behind the yellow line.
“Naqoura has been pretty much flattened over the past few weeks … I can count on my hands the number of buildings we can see from here now,” Ardiel said.
Even with the ceasefire in place, ongoing hostilities and obstructions have curtailed UNIFIL’s core functions of monitoring and reporting from south Lebanon. Multiple UNIFIL positions along the blue line have been effectively isolated.
“Some of them were drastically low on supplies, like even food, just because these resupply lines could not get through … We've had Israeli soldiers blocking us at different times or refusing to deconflict to help ensure safe passage, and we’ve also encountered physical roadblocks that we have had to remove,” Ardiel said.
Observers say Israel’s military tactics in south Lebanon have been tried and tested in Gaza , where forced displacement orders, air attacks, demolitions, and a no-go zone marked by a yellow line have given Israel control of over half of the enclave.
“The ‘yellow line’ embodies a strategy already developed in Gaza,” Daniel Meier, a professor at Sciences Po Grenoble and Lebanon analyst, told The New Arab.
“Obviously, the same naming has been given here to recall something, and to frighten the people.”
Meier sees two possible outcomes: a short-term “buffer zone” used as leverage in peace negotiations, or a long-term permanent occupation within the yellow line.
“I'm not sure there is a clear endgame on the Israeli side … But if there are no sanctions, the worst-case scenario is more probable,” Meier said. “The war became the new politics in town in Israel. Stopping the war is the worst-case scenario, obviously, for that government.”
Either way, Meier added that the longer the occupation lasts, the more the area becomes a no man's land - monitored by armed drones, effectively uninhabitable regardless of whether soldiers are physically present.
If one thing is clear, it is that south Lebanon will never be quite the same again.
Rebuilding, which is currently impossible, could take decades. The collective trauma will take longer to fade. And countless memories, along with homes, streets, and neighbourhoods, have been erased forever. Alex Martin Astley is a freelance journalist based in Beirut, covering conflict, foreign policy, and social justice issues Follow him on X: @AlexMAstley Edited by Charlie Hoyle