Along the southern edge of Lebanon, the land remembers seasons better than borders. Olive trees bend with age, fields follow contours older than politics, and farming is less an occupation than a continuity. In recent weeks, that continuity has been interrupted not by shelling or fire, but by something quieter — a mist settling over crops, carried by wind and accusation alike.

Lebanese authorities and local farmers have accused Israel of spraying herbicides along the border region, alleging that the chemicals drifted into agricultural land and damaged crops across multiple villages. The substance at the center of the claims is linked by international health agencies to elevated cancer risks, raising concerns that the impact may extend far beyond a single harvest.

According to reports from the ground, spraying occurred during periods of active cultivation, when fields were green and livelihoods exposed. Farmers describe leaves yellowing within days, plants wilting unevenly, and soil showing signs of chemical stress. For communities already strained by economic crisis and regional instability, the damage compounds existing vulnerability, turning farmland into another site of uncertainty.

Israel has previously acknowledged using herbicides along border areas, describing the practice as a security measure intended to maintain visibility near fencing. Critics argue that such justifications do little to address the asymmetry of consequence. Chemicals do not stop at fences, and agricultural zones on the Lebanese side lie close enough that even controlled spraying risks unintended spread. In a region where winds shift quickly, intention offers limited protection.

Environmental experts warn that repeated exposure to certain herbicides can degrade soil quality, contaminate water sources, and pose long-term health risks to nearby populations. Unlike sudden violence, chemical damage unfolds slowly, often revealing its full cost only years later. The absence of immediate spectacle makes accountability harder, even as the harm settles in quietly.

For southern Lebanon’s farmers, the issue is not only environmental but existential. Crops represent income, heritage, and survival. When fields fail, there are few alternatives waiting. The fear is not just of a lost season, but of land rendered unreliable — productive one year, poisoned the next, suspended in uncertainty.

In border regions, power is often measured by what crosses unseen. This time, it was not soldiers or weapons, but particles in the air. And as investigations and denials unfold at higher levels, the fields remain below, absorbing consequences that no statement can easily reverse.

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Sources Reuters Agence France-Presse Lebanese Ministry of Agriculture World Health Organization Environmental health reporting from regional NGOs