Double the price of education

This picture is no exception. It sums up the reality of what happened in the frontline areas during two and a half years of continuous war: an absent or lagging state, and communities saving their children’s education with their own hands.

Students in the areas affected by the Israeli war on Lebanon paid a heavy price, particularly in the South and Nabatieh governorates. However, the damage inflicted on students in the frontline villages was compounded, as in-person education in their schools was almost entirely disrupted with the start of the offensive on October 8, 2023. They were forced to attend alternative schools after the vast majority of them were compelled to flee their villages in repeated displacements and brutal attempts at uprooting through the destruction of homes, schools, and sometimes entire villages. Yet, the will and remarkable determination of the people of the South, and their ability to withstand repeated wars and attacks for over 75 years, continue to drive them to return time and again to their lands and rebuild their lives, especially access to education, despite the neglect and marginalization on one hand, and the brutality on the other.

This article examines the state of public schools and the distribution of students in war-affected areas, with a particular focus on schools located on what has become known as the “front line.” The analysis covers three distinct time periods:

• After the ceasefire on November 27, 2024, during a year and a half of continuous attacks.

• During the expanded war in 2026, which lasted 44 days from March 2 to approximately April 14, 2026.

• After April 14, 2026, when the attacks were concentrated specifically in the south, and up to the present day.

Phase One: Return to Rubble (November 2024 – March 2026)

This is the stage in which the ceasefire provided an opportunity to resume education in areas whose wounds have not yet healed.

The number of students in schools closed for security reasons, all located in the Nabatieh Governorate, reached 5,209. The majority of these students did not return to their villages but settled in Nabatieh, Tyre, and the surrounding areas. Many of their school buildings were completely or partially destroyed, and no reconstruction funds were available. Minister of Education Dr. Rima Karami, through one of her advisors, responded with unusual candor: “There is nothing specific allocated for the South at the moment in this regard.” In this vacuum, the local community attempted to find some solutions. According to the Ministry of Education, the damaged schools were distributed across three tracks.

The schools whose buildings were completely or partially damaged, totaling 20 official primary and secondary schools in the frontline villages, were distributed into 3 categories one year after the ceasefire, according to private information we obtained from the Ministry of Education: schools that did not open their doors, schools that opened in an alternative building inside the town, and schools that opened in an alternative building outside the town.

Schools where it was not possible to start teaching

Education in these schools, both in person and remotely, came to a complete halt. Since the beginning of the war, the principals have demanded what they called “preserving the schools’ integrity.” The Ministry of Education granted their request, allowing the principal, the headmaster, and the computer technician to remain administratively attached to the school but to work at schools near their current residences. These individuals are responsible for preparing schedules detailing the distribution of students and teachers and compiling the necessary data about the school building in preparation for the resumption of classes when conditions permit. Students also attend schools near their homes. This situation applies to the schools in the villages of Al-Adisa. Kfarkela and Markaba (Marjeyoun District), and the Hosh El Sayed Ali School (Hermel District), i.e., only 4 schools and high schools.

Schools that offer in-person education in an alternative building within the same town

In some towns, primary and secondary schools adopted prefabricated rooms, as in the case of Mays al-Jabal, or buildings belonging to other institutions, such as the social welfare center in Houla, an unused building belonging to a private school in Khiam and Aitaroun, and an alternative building in the town of Qanafiz (Hermel district), which was damaged during clashes with armed groups on the border with Syria. These primary and secondary schools were distributed as follows: 6 in the Marjeyoun district, 1 in Hermel, for a total of 7 primary and secondary schools.

Schools that offer in-person education in an alternative building outside the town

Students from Aita al-Shaab, Ramia, and Yaroun in the Bint Jbeil district have returned to their original schools, which have begun classes in alternative buildings, mostly in the city of Tyre, with only one located in the town of Al-Tayri within the same district, where most of the families unable to return are concentrated. A decision was also issued to include students from the Marwahin and Al-Dhahira schools. Yaroun and Al-Bustan, both from the Tyre district, were located in the Lebanese-German University building in the same district. However, the forcibly displaced people who were occupying the university building refused to leave. The municipalities tried to find suitable solutions for them, and one of the displaced women said that some municipalities offered them money to find alternative housing and vacate the university building, but they refused, fearing that their displacement would be prolonged and the offered amounts would not be enough to cover their rent. The number of these secondary schools reached 4 in the Bint Jbeil district, 4 in the Tyre district, and 1 in Hermel, totaling 9 public schools and secondary schools.

Schools that opened their doors in the villages of the front line

While private and public schools in several towns in the Bint Jbeil district that did not suffer extensive damage, such as those in Bint Jbeil, Shaqra, Tibnin, Beit Leef, and some Christian towns like Rmeish and Ain Ebel, are operating normally. In the Hasbaya district, schools in Kfarshouba, Ibl al-Saqi, and Habbarieh are open, as are secondary schools in Marjeyoun, Majdal Selm, and Taybeh, and one school in Khiam and Qlaiaa in the Marjeyoun district. Schools in Alma al-Shaab and Naqoura are also open in the Tyre district. The distribution is as follows: 6 in the Marjeyoun district, 16 in the Bint Jbeil district, 6 in the Hasbaya district, and 2 in the Tyre district, totaling 30 schools and secondary schools.

Naqoura: When willpower is the only resource

One of the strongest things documented in this study is the experience of the Naqoura Public School, which worked to launch in-person education in the frontline villages located directly on the border and which experienced widespread destruction. Restoration of the Naqoura Public School, says Layal Youssef, the school’s director:

“After the ceasefire on November 27, approximately 60 families returned to the town of Naqoura and began repairing their homes. We opened because repairing our school was not very expensive. The remaining schools in the town and surrounding towns have not yet found alternative buildings to move to… I started registering for the academic year (2025/2026) during September 2025.

Part of the school is destroyed, but not the whole thing. The Southern Council renovated it and equipped it with a solar power system. However, the council set a date to begin the renovations and then backed down. They told me, “We were stopped by the authorities.” But the principal persisted and kept in touch, and they informed her that the renovation decision had been issued. The renovations were completed in a month and a half. Some details are still not finished, especially the water shortage. The school relies on water tankers provided by the municipality and the Civil Defense.

The rubble was cleared from the playground by volunteers. UNIFIL then completed the clearing. The school is still open on the road because of the collapsed wall, but we are in an inner neighborhood of the town, so this is not a problem.

The Ministry of Education provided some books. There is a shortage of equipment. Today, UNICEF provided a number of laptops.

The 60 families who returned to the town, the poorest and most vulnerable, some simply renovated a room and moved in. These children have the right to an education, so we worked to open the school.

When we returned, the blackboards in the classrooms were full of bullets, the photocopier had bullets in it, the interactive whiteboard too.

The number of students in the school before the war was 200 pupils, and today it is 56 pupils.

A number of the school’s students come from the surrounding villages, because they have not returned to their towns. There is a bus that transports them from Abbasiya, Mansouri, and Ma’raka…

Today we are having problems securing electricity due to the weather starting to change.”

Phase Two: The Large-Scale War (March-April 2026)

When war broke out again on March 2, 2026, the Ministry of Education declared its commitment to “maintaining the continuity of learning for all students.” However, faced with the pressure of forced displacement, it was unable to uphold this commitment. It organized the resumption of in-person and remote learning immediately after the second week of the war. However, it did not issue any binding decrees obligating public schools in war zones to return to in-person learning on specific, binding dates. Instead, it began collecting data on the locations of students and teachers, and then urged administrators to begin remote learning wherever possible.

By March 28, the distribution of school students was as follows:

Distribution of students in public and private schools according to type of education after the resumption of war on March 2, 2026

The terms “in-person” and “hybrid” refer to the school’s hybrid model, which involves both in-person and online learning. The parents and students we interviewed agreed that hybrid learning is the weakest form of education because it requires teachers to juggle both methods simultaneously. Instead of using a digital resource for all students, for example, they must present a written lesson on the board for those physically present and deliver it via interactive whiteboards or live video feeds for students learning remotely.

The table reveals the gap between the public and private sectors, as the latter were able to Private schools in war zones maintained continuity of education for all their students, while 17% of public school students remained without any education for a relatively long period (until March 28, and sometimes even longer). The study also revealed a 24% difference in in-person attendance between public and private schools, favoring the private sector. This does not justify the claim that private schools are pressuring for the resumption of classes to collect tuition fees. Nor is it that distance learning is ineffective. Even if that were true, the material outcome for the students would be the same: private school students returned to education despite the war, while public school students in war zones, who are the poorest and most vulnerable, did not return to education, or were very late in returning.

According to figures from the Ministry of Education, there were 19,666 students in displacement centers, representing 2% of all students in Lebanon, but 4.9% of public school students and 22% of students from war zones. In contrast, the number of private school students in displacement centers reached only 5,518, equivalent to 0.7% of the total private sector student population. These figures clearly reveal that the war did not affect all students equally, but rather reproduced and deepened existing inequalities. Students in the formal education system and the most vulnerable groups bore the brunt of displacement and disruption to their education, while the education system itself reflected this inequality with painful accuracy.

Phase Three: After the so-called partial ceasefire (May 10-6-2026 – today)

After May 2026, attacks became concentrated specifically in the south. Ministry of Education data shows that 60% of students in Lebanon attend in-person classes nationwide, while this figure reached 79% in private schools. This means that the difference between public and private schools in terms of in-person learning nationwide is 19%, in favor of private schools.

But this average masks a harsher reality: 95% of students in Nabatieh Governorate, in both public and private schools, are learning remotely; 64% of students in South Governorate, in both public and private schools, are learning remotely; and 93% of students in Beirut are learning remotely because their schools are still hosting internally displaced persons. This means that the percentage in the South remained close to the national average because Sidon and its surrounding areas did not suffer from the same level of aggression as the South. Meanwhile, only 5% of students in Nabatieh Governorate were learning in person. This is a shocking figure that reveals the depth of the educational gap in this region, especially after the renewed aggression in March 2016.

The 40% who are studying remotely are distributed as follows: 23% from war zones, and 17% from safe areas where their schools have been turned into displacement centers. All of these 40%, which is more than a third of the learners in Lebanon, will lose approximately a third of the school year, from March until its end.

These tables, prepared by the Ministry of Education, show that only 9 students from the Baalbek-Hermel Governorate are out of school after the ceasefire.

Psychosocial support: absent where it is most needed

Parents say their children have returned to normal life, but the psychological and social effects continue to manifest and impact their behavior and education. No support initiatives have yet been offered to them. The Ministry of Education promises “intensified guidance and counseling visits” to the schools they have enrolled in. However, the problem is that the number of counselors in the area is limited, many have been displaced, and no counselors from outside the area are coming due to security concerns. Furthermore, the counselors assigned to these tasks have not received any specialized training programs for these children.

In a study conducted by the Lebanese Center for Studies, 48% of parents expressed their children’s need for psychological support. The study states, “Psychological and emotional support for students, parents, and teachers who are experiencing trauma due to displacement and aggression is equally important. Teachers emphasized that psychological support programs should be led by qualified professionals to address children’s fears and emotional challenges.”

Cumulative educational loss since the outbreak of the economic crisis in October 2019 until today

In an interview, the Minister of Education stated that “every student in Lebanon suffers from a 40% learning loss,” but no study has been conducted to determine the extent of this loss in the governorates that suffered most from the Israeli war on Lebanon. Furthermore, no specific plans exist to address this learning loss in schools in the South, Nabatieh, or the border villages. The Ministry of Education maintains that the diagnostic assessment and support plan implemented for the basic education level already covers students in these two governorates, thus contributing to bridging the gap and addressing the learning loss.

The Minister of Education recently announced that a new diagnostic test will be conducted at the beginning of the next academic year 2026/2027 to assess the learning loss that may have resulted from the disruption of education in the 2026 war.

Summary

The data presented in this study, across its three phases, revealed one recurring truth: the border regions of the South and Nabatieh did not pay the price of war just once, but rather repeatedly, at every stage, during every interruption, and on every level. Students in the frontline villages experienced a near-total disruption of their education when the war began in October 2023, followed by forced displacement, a return to ruins, and then a renewed, expanded war. The resulting cumulative losses have yet to be measured by any study specifically focused on these two governorates. .

This reality presents a clear priority: it is not enough for the assessment and support plan to be national and unified. What the South and Nabatieh need is an exceptional policy that stems from the specific extent of what their students have lost, a thorough study of the cumulative learning loss, field-based psychological support programs led by specialists, and phased compensation plans that do not wait for the start of the next academic year.

The most practical and effective approach is what these communities have proven for themselves: when basic resources like a building to be renovated, a chair to be provided, and a table to be opened, schools reopened and students returned. What is required of the state is not miracles, but rather that resources arrive in a timely manner, and that it not merely celebrate community resilience. And to build upon it instead of merely praising it.

Because Lebanon, which lies on a fault line of recurring crises in the foreseeable future, has no choice but to cling to saving what can be saved, on every level, and clinging to providing and continuing education is one of the most important things that every society should think about, under all circumstances.

*The views expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect the views of the journal or the Lebanese Studies Center, but represent only the opinion of its author.

In the midst of this scene, the issue of education stands out as one of the most urgent and dangerous issues for the country’s future and present, not only because the war has disrupted the right of hundreds of thousands of children and youth to education, but because the way to deal with education during crises reveals the nature of the political and moral choices that govern society and the state. The challenge today does not lie only in ensuring the continuity of education or protecting the school year from collapse (regardless of our definition of the criteria for a successful or collapsed school year), but rather in how to achieve this without turning education into an additional tool for reproducing inequality and division.

A brief definition of equity in education

Equity in education is a complex concept that intersects with multiple approaches: While the liberal approach focuses on equal opportunities – that is, removing formal obstacles to access to education – the equity approach goes further to demand a redistribution of resources in favor of the most disadvantaged, to compensate for what is lacking in social origin. The capabilities approach adds another dimension: providing education is not enough; it must actually enable the individual to live a life of his choice in freedom and dignity. In contrast, critical approaches from Samuel Bowles and Herbert Gintis, the American economic theorists, (Bowles & Gintis, 1976) to Pierre Bourdieu, the French sociologist (Bourdieu & Passeron, 1990) – reveal that school often reproduces social inequality under the guise of the official curriculum, as it turns class privilege into individual merit and deprivation into personal deficiency. What unites these approaches, despite their differences, is their recognition that education cannot be fair in an unjust society – and that true educational justice necessarily requires addressing the social and economic structures that fuel inequality outside the school walls.

The history of inequality in education in Lebanon

The history of inequality in education in Lebanon does not begin with the economic collapse, the civil war, or the Israeli war, but rather extends to the founding moment of the formation of the Lebanese entity itself.

Osama Makdisi showed in his book “The Culture of Sectarianism” how European colonialism used education as a tool to consolidate its existence by distributing educational privileges on deliberate sectarian grounds. In the absence of any Ottoman interest in educating the population, the missionaries monopolized the distribution of modern knowledge sectarianly and used it to enable it to control and colonize. This intentional disparity in opportunities was the primary mechanism for constructing ideological identities that served colonialism. Here, Maqdisi meets with Mahdi Amel in the depth of the thesis: What Maqdisi observed in the nineteenth century is the foundational moment for what Amel analyzed more than five decades ago, when he was teaching philosophy at Sidon Public High School, that the educational system in Lebanon was not built to achieve justice, but rather to protect the privileges of the dominant groups and reproduce the existing sectarian-class system.

From this standpoint, the weakness of formal education was not an administrative failure, but rather an intentional function: the sectarian state has no structural interest in building a unified educational system that raises class awareness and eliminates differences between regions and sects, because such a system threatens the basis on which its system is based and includes two needs. The first: the need for the sectarian leader as an intermediary to access services and rights on the one hand. The second need is to ensure the protection of the interests of the ruling class, which itself is the wealthy class that includes sectarian leaders. Given that many private schools are either semi-free or non-free or owned by sects, the private sector, which is a partner of the ruling class, must be protected.

During the emergence of the State of Lebanon, there were successful attempts in the sixties and seventies of the last century towards achieving justice in education for various groups of Lebanese. Available data show that formal education in Lebanon witnessed an exceptional expansion during the independence era, as the number of students in public schools increased from 276,704 to 732,681 between 1959 and 1971, that is, by 165%, and the education budget reached its peak in 1977 at 22% of the GDP (Farha, 2012). However, this expansion never led to the formal sector dominating actual enrollment, as private schools maintained throughout that era to accommodate the majority of students. The highest accurately documented percentage of enrollment in public schools dates back to the year 2003-2004 at 37.9%, according to CRDP statistical bulletins, while Education Above All data indicates 41.3% in the year 1979-1980. Since then, the percentage has declined continuously, reaching 25.6% in 2023-2024 – the lowest level on record – with the exception of a temporary rise to 36.5% in 2020-2021, when many families were forced to transfer their children from private to public schools under the weight of the economic collapse. CRDP, 2024).

Thus, the educational system in Lebanon turned into a political cover for a deep class structure

Perhaps the real danger lies not only in the growth of the private educational sector at the expense of the public, but also in the fact that we have stopped talking much about justice. The last study on the impact of social and economic background on education for the Educational Center was conducted in the early seventies and was conducted by Khalil Abu Rjaili (1975). This study concluded early that the Lebanese educational system practices only formal equality, while transforming class privilege into “talent,” and social deprivation into “weakness” or “individual failure.” That is, the school, instead of addressing disparity, reproduces it and gives it moral legitimacy, which is exactly what Mahdi Amel warned against when he saw the educational system as an ideological device that reproduces the class system and gives it an aura of inevitability. In the Taif Agreement (1989), this reality was enshrined, and justice was only mentioned twice, which had nothing to do with education. But when Taif addressed the issue of education, he established the following equation: “Protecting private education… and reforming formal education.” Since then, public school has been treated as a sector that must be managed, while private education must be protected. Here we ask who should protect this sector and why should it be protected, especially given that the majority of these schools are affiliated with sects, their associations, or politicians?

Thus, the educational system in Lebanon turned into a political cover for a deep class structure: those who could pay joined the private sector – with varying levels and costs – and were guaranteed better chances in social mobility, and those who were unable remained in the formal sector, which suffered most in the primary stages. Failure and dropout rates accumulate, and children in their first formative years lose the opportunities that their peers have in private, and it is difficult to compensate for them later. From the beginning, the starting point is not equal, so the social difference between the two families turns into an educational difference, and then into a difference in the future. It is as if education was designed to consolidate what exists, not to change it.

Education is no longer a public right, but rather an expensive existential investment that families undertake alone, to the point where they spend nearly a third of their income on it. While the state itself continues to indirectly fund the private sector through education grants for employees, grants whose value increases as the job rank increases, thus enhancing the reproduction of the social hierarchy itself. The state spends on financing the private sector by granting employees what is currently equivalent to 70% of what it spends on the public education sector (Nama 2023). In contrast, approximately 30% of children today are on the verge of dropping out or out of school completely CAS & UNICEF (2025), while children with disabilities and refugee students are almost completely left out of educational policies and discussions, as if they do not even exist in the state’s conception of education and citizenship. Then came the Israeli aggression and added other challenges to the concept of justice in education

Educational justice in the shadow of war

These questions become more serious in light of the intense Israeli targeting of specific regions and social segments, and the accompanying clear attempts to deepen internal division and weaken any sense of common destiny. In such moments, education is no longer just a service sector or an administrative file, but rather becomes a central arena for conflict over the meaning of justice, the form of the state, and the nature of the society that we want to build during and after the war.

Hence, this article begins with an attempt to question the concept of justice in education during war: What does educational justice look like in the context of war? How can educational policies be formulated that do not punish the most affected groups, and do not grant privilege back to those who already have a greater ability to survive and thrive?

In light of the Israeli war, talking about educational justice is no longer a theoretical discussion or a postponed reform demand, but rather a question related to the survival of society itself. The Israeli aggression left widespread destruction in the education sector, with the displacement of about 1.2 million people, the closure of 1,228 public schools (2,780 public and private schools), and the conversion of 642 educational institutions, including 550 public schools, into shelter centers for the displaced. The direct impact also affected about one million male and female students, more than 45,000 male and female teachers, and about 250,000 students in the afternoon shift and educational centers, while only 310 official schools remained operating at the height of the aggression throughout the country, while most private schools were opened in safe areas.

By December 2024, 349 schools had been partially damaged and 33 schools were completely destroyed, while students in the south, the Bekaa, Baalbek, and the southern suburbs experienced repeated interruptions to education, forced displacement, and fragile education via messaging applications. However, the field study conducted by the Center for Lebanese Studies in March 2026 reveals that this war did not cause a sudden educational rupture, but rather came to deepen a cumulative collapse that began since the economic crisis in 2019, through the Corona pandemic, the port explosion, and successive wars.

To understand what educational justice can actually mean in light of this war, theoretical or political discussion alone is not enough. Rather, we must listen to the lived experiences of students, teachers, families, and school administrators who live this war daily. The field study conducted by the Center for Lebanese Studies during the war, which included interviews and discussion groups with 88 participants, including students, parents, teachers, and school principals, in addition to a questionnaire that included 300 teachers in public schools, reveals that what the education sector is experiencing today is not just a “temporary stumble” that can be overcome by returning to classes or taking official exams, but rather a deep justice crisis that reveals who actually has the right to education and who is gradually being pushed out of it.

At the height of the war, the Ministry of Education relied on distance and hybrid education as a solution for continuity. But the study reveals that this “continuation” was not equal. Distance education has effectively become a class privilege linked to owning electricity, the Internet, devices, and a safe space inside the home. 83% of teachers reported that weak or interrupted Internet was one of the most prominent obstacles, while 46% indicated the lack of sufficient devices for students. More than 65% of teachers confirmed that less than half of their students regularly participated in educational lessons.

As for the shelter centers, the idea of ​​“e-learning” seemed almost disconnected from the daily reality of students. Families shared one phone, and children lived in crowded rooms that lacked privacy, electricity, and quiet. Some students were studying in the hallways or waiting for their father to return by phone so they could continue lessons. In many cases, the Internet packages announced by the Ministry did not reach students at all, or reached parents’ phones in a way that did not allow their actual use for learning.

The study also reveals that the war not only deepened the differences between the rich and the poor, but also reproduced inequality between regions and social groups. In the south and Nabatieh, more than 90% of schools relied on distance education due to the intensity of targeting, while other regions were able to partially maintain in-person or hybrid education. This means that the war did not affect all students to the same extent, but rather redistributed learning opportunities according to geography, security, and economic ability.

If the war has deepened educational inequality in Lebanon in general, its impact on Syrian and Palestinian refugees has been more severe and severe. The refugees entered this war while they were already in a fragile position within the Lebanese educational system, after years of marginalization, repeated interruption of education, weak funding, declining opportunities to enroll in formal education, and the increase in political discourse hostile to them. Before the last war, about 40% of Syrian children were already out of school, while dropout rates were constantly rising as a result of the economic crisis, child labor, difficulty of movement, and the decline in international funding for education programs. With the war, this fragility was exacerbated in an unprecedented way. Many second-shift schools were closed or turned into shelters, while thousands of refugees found themselves displaced again inside Lebanon, or unable to access education due to displacement, poverty, and loss of the Internet and devices.

As for children with disabilities and learning difficulties, they were among the most marginalized and excluded groups. The study indicates that only 5% of teachers considered that current education patterns take into account the needs of students with disabilities, while most participants acknowledged the almost complete absence of any specialized services, psychological support, or inclusive arrangements within schools or shelter centers. Most of the shelters themselves were not equipped to receive persons with disabilities, leaving many of them completely isolated from education and services.

But perhaps the most dangerous results of the study lie in its revelation that the crisis is no longer just a crisis of access to education, but rather a crisis of the meaning of education itself. Many students, teachers, and families are wondering about the usefulness of curricula and exams that are imposed in the same way on students living in radically contradictory circumstances. Most of the participants saw that the insistence on ending official curricula and exams reflects a “policy of normalization with war,” which treats students as if they live in equal conditions, while some of them learn from stable homes and others try to study from inside shelter centers or under bombardment, fear, and displacement.

The study also reveals the enormous exhaustion experienced by teachers themselves. 79% of teachers reported that they do not receive adequate support, while 55% said that they suffer psychologically while teaching, and only approximately 1% received any psychological support. Also, 81% of teachers confirmed their need for direct financial support to continue teaching. In many cases, teachers themselves have been displaced or living in unstable conditions, while being asked to continue teaching and manage students’ psychosocial crises at the same time.

In light of the heated talk about the Ministry of Education’s decision to continue with official exams, another study by the Center for Lebanese Studies shows that the rates of students’ readiness to take official exams have witnessed a sharp and continuous decline since 2023, which reflects the cumulative impact of crises and wars on the educational process. In 2023, the percentage of students who considered themselves ready for official exams reached 48% in the private sector compared to 21% in the official sector. Then these percentages decreased in 2024 to 27% in the private sector and 17% in the formal sector, before declining unprecedentedly in 2026 to reach their lowest levels, as they did not exceed 8% in the private sector and 7% in the formal sector. These numbers reveal not only the extent of the educational collapse, but also how the traditional differences between the two sectors have begun to narrow due to the comprehensive collapse and war, even if its effects remain more severe on students of formal education and the most vulnerable groups. The past years have shown that official exams have lost a large part of their educational meaning due to the way they are administered and their political and administrative use. If some private school students need exam results to enroll in universities abroad, this cannot become the only criterion on which educational policies are built in a country experiencing war and collapse of this magnitude.

The meaning of justice in wars

In light of the continuation of the Israeli war on Lebanon, defining the meaning and nature of the justice of education in wars becomes more urgent and complex. Justice in wartime cannot mean treating all students in the same way despite their radically different circumstances, and it cannot be reduced to merely “continuing education” and holding official exams at all costs. Any serious conversation about educational justice in wartime must begin by acknowledging a basic truth: wars do not produce equal suffering, but rather deepen existing inequalities and distribute pain and loss unequally. Hence, the role of the state and the Ministry of Education cannot be reduced to merely keeping schools open formally or holding official exams as the only evidence of “continuity of education” or “resilience.” This approach reduces education to its administrative and technical dimension, and ignores its deeper moral and social function in moments of division and collective pain.

The war revealed dozens of local, individual and institutional initiatives that attempted to protect education as a space for human relations and not merely a process of indoctrination

Therefore, making solidarity the central value that governs educational policies may be one of the most important things the Ministry of Education can do today. Education, before capitalism and the modern state turned it into a tool for job sorting and individual competition, carried a deeper social and moral meaning: for people to learn how to pick each other up in moments of fall and crisis and flourish together.

Perhaps one of the bright spots amidst this collapse lies in the existence of a rich ground within Lebanese society itself for practices of solidarity and mutual care. The war revealed dozens of local, individual and institutional initiatives that attempted to protect education as a space for human relations and not merely a process of indoctrination. In the study of the Center for Lebanese Studies, experiences emerged of principals who, from the first days of the war, took the initiative to create communication and support networks via WhatsApp applications to follow up on all their students, not only educationally, but also psychologically and socially. Initiatives also emerged for schools that received displaced students and integrated them with non-displaced students, and for teachers who turned virtual classrooms into spaces for support, breathing, and dialogue, not just places to finish lessons.

In this sense, the value of the “path” becomes more important than the “result,” and the method of managing the academic year becomes more important than the certificate itself.

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*The views expressed in this article do not necessarily reflect the views of the journal or the Lebanese Studies Center, but represent only the opinion of its author.