Threats, intimidation and air strikes: the perilous work of environmental reporters in Lebanon

The last time journalist Fadia Jomaa was able to visit the turtle reserve in the coastal village of Mansouri, in southern Lebanon, was in early 2025. "I can't reach the reserve anymore, it's too dangerous," she said. This environmental reporter, who has contributed to local news websites such as Manateq and Silat Wassel, now considers the reserve effectively off limits because of the Israeli army. Mounir Kabalan, another Lebanese environmental reporter, who contributes to the independent news outlet Raseef22, agreed: "The ecological disaster is immense," he said. "The few journalists who still go there, work under drone surveillance and under threat of death."

Covering southern Lebanon and its environmental devastation has become extremely difficult at a time when the Lebanese government accuses Israel of committing an "ecocide" - the deliberate destruction of natural resources through, among other things, soil contamination and the use of white phosphorus, a chemical that destroys crops and can spontaneously reignite long after being dispersed.

There is now virtually no information available about the current condition of the Mansouri reserve or its turtle ecosystem. "We can no longer go there to find out whether the beach remains intact or whether the army has established a presence there," journalist Fadia Jomaa said. This unspoilt 1.5-kilometre stretch of coastline provides a sanctuary for green turtles and loggerhead turtles (Caretta caretta), as well as a rich biodiverse ecosystem. It is protected by a municipal decree and maintained by civil society organisations.

A few years ago, Fadia Jomaa met the founder of the initiative responsible for protecting the reserve, Mona Khalil, who has been in intensive care since 6 June after being badly injured by an Israeli strike that levelled her home in Mansouri. "Another crime against a civilian environmental activist," said Jomaa, who has since become her friend. "To gather information about these crimes and about the reserves, we now rely on satellite imagery and official reports. But even those reports are becoming increasingly scarce. Priority is given to military and political developments. As always, the environment comes second," she said.

Outside the war zone: local threats

In both war and peacetime, environmental issues are often at the centre of public debate in Lebanon. They include pollution in the Litani River in the south, unregulated stone quarries, and illegal construction projects on publicly owned coastal land.

In 2024, during the ceasefire, a local property development project began encroaching on the nature reserve in the city of Tyre. Freelance reporter Mahdi Krayem, a contributor to Manateq and a native of this southern Lebanese city, was the first to expose the case. His report sparked public protests , and a court ruling temporarily halted construction. But in April 2025, seven months after his story was published, when he and his source returned to investigate work that was still continuing despite the court order, they were arrested by army intelligence officers. Mahdi Krayem was released after five hours of questioning. "We were not mistreated," he told RSF. "They accused me of entering and photographing a military base. In reality, it was public property and the project was a civilian commercial development."

Mounir Kabalan said, "It is difficult to investigate environmental issues without coming into conflict with the interests of wealthy and politically powerful actors." When he tried to investigate pollution from private electricity generators in residential areas of Beirut, in a country where the state struggles to provide a reliable electricity supply, he received threats by telephone. "Stay away from the generator mafia. They are prepared to do anything to eliminate those who interfere with their business," he reports being told. Because of such risks, he publishes his stories under a pseudonym. "Those responsible for these environmental crimes don't like journalists," he said.

A marginalised subject

Moustapha Raad, a freelance environmental reporter who contributes to several local media outlets including L'Orient-Le Jour, as well as training journalists, has also encountered obstacles. "In 2017, I used a drone to film a landfill site that was burying waste instead of recycling it. Two security guards approached me almost immediately and ordered me to delete the footage," he said. "Fortunately, I had backups."

Environmental reporting is systematically sidelined, he said. "Respected Lebanese newspapers once devoted an entire page every day to environmental issues. But as soon as an armed conflict or political crisis emerged, that page disappeared to make room for subjects deemed more important." He added: "Working on environmental issues is seen as a luxury." A view shared by his colleague Fadia Jomaa, who said: "As though it didn't matter."

Environmental journalists also struggle to obtain adequate training, secure sufficient funding, or simply get their story pitches approved by editors. The risks are many and the cost is high. So, less information reaches the public on issues of critical importance. "Our investigation into the Tyre reserve attracted enormous attention," Mahdi Krayem recalls. "It encouraged people to take action. But my arrest served as a warning to others. Now every journalist has to think twice before going into the field."