Environment

At the heart of one of Lebanon's most densely populated regions, thousands of cubic meters of hydrocarbons are currently stored. From Antelias to Karantina, rows of tanks face a vertical suburb that rises up to 900 meters in altitude, yet remains, as the crow flies, dangerously close. It's an unbearable proximity between a highly flammable industry and overcrowded residential areas. Aerial view from 2017. Aerial view from 2024 showing the project's extension. Proximity of Coral and Unigaz facilities to the city. Two of Coral's five gas tanks, comparable to those of Unigaz, located a little further away. The fire at the Dora fuel tanks in 1989, already described at the time as a 'nuclear explosion', which darkened the capital's sky for several days, as well as the Beirut port explosion, which devastated the city on August 4, 2020, do not seem to have been a sufficient lesson for Lebanese officials. Once again, the country projects the image of a phantom state: an absent government, biased media, evasive political officials, and scientific studies carefully calibrated to dilute the truth in a discouraging technical fog. Coral Oil Co., Total Lebanon, and Medco Petroleum for fuels, Unigaz, Natgaz, Gaz Orient, and Phoenicia for gas, inundate the Metn coastline with tanks and cisterns as far as the eye can see. Since a master plan in 2013 called for the dismantling of all these facilities, which have become dangerous in an now urbanized environment, these companies can only carry out maintenance on existing infrastructure, but without any expansion. New installations Surprisingly, however, between Achrafieh and Metn, on the right bank of the Beirut River's mouth, Coral Oil is erecting twenty new liquid hydrocarbon tanks and, crucially, five gas tanks, each 8 meters in diameter and 50 meters long. The legal documents put forward consist of a building permit approved by the municipality of Bourj Hammoud, a 1931 license for fuel storage, a document from the Ministry of Energy and Water, and reports from private institutes certifying compliance with current standards. A plethora of administrative and technical arguments are being used to legitimize the implementation of this clearly problematic project in this environment. According to some sources, Coral holds an A1 category license, valid for hydrocarbons. However, according to the most recent information gathered from the competent authorities, the company obtained an A2 category license from the Ministry of Energy and Water, applicable only to oils and detergents. The Ministry of Industry, for its part, never granted it an A1 license, which is nevertheless mandatory. It is precisely to address this gap that the old 1931 license and Ministerial Council Decree No. 9949/2013 are put forward. This decree, although prohibiting any new installation of flammable material storage in this area, would be interpreted as authorizing the renovation of existing facilities. A major risk The question therefore remains: does the addition of about twenty new fuel tanks and five gas tanks truly fall under renovation? And can a 1931 license, issued at a time when the area was agricultural, still be valid in today's urban and demographic reality? And above all, while fuel burns, as in 1989, gas explodes, as happened on August 4, 2020; a major risk highlighted by former Industry Minister, Vreij Sabounjian. For the expert commissions mandated by Coral, the project takes into account all required safety margins. However, it remains to be understood why the terrorist risk was not integrated into these evaluations, even though this factor seems to have been at the origin of the double explosion of August 4, 2020. It should also be remembered that several of the greatest global catastrophes have occurred in facilities perfectly compliant with safety standards. This involves the addition of approximately 20 new liquid hydrocarbon tanks, representing about 180,000 additional tons, as well as 5 new gas tanks for a total estimated capacity of 12,000 m³, or about 8,000 tons of gas. As for the required safety distances, they are measured in kilometers, according to an independent study carried out by Socotec for comparable and equally dangerous gas installations operated by neighboring Unigaz. Regulations These distances are clearly incompatible with the urban fabric of the Dora-Bourj Hammoud neighborhoods. It is precisely for this reason that Decree No. 9949/2013 was adopted, prohibiting any new gas or oil installation or extension in this sector. Furthermore, based on Decree No. 8633/2012, the Ministry of Environment explicitly requires an Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) which has not yet taken place. Decree No. 5509/1994 does indeed authorize the Ministry of Energy to approve extension works without the intervention of the Ministry of Industry, as long as the operation remains within the initially approved framework. However, in practice, this decree authorizes the upgrading of existing facilities, not their extension. The aerial images comparing installations before 2017 to those after that date are, in this respect, enlightening. They reveal a considerable expansion of the infrastructure. A necessary awakening Founded in the United Kingdom in 1925, and established in Lebanon since 1926, Shell, which became Coral Oil Company, is among the most reliable players in the national energy sector, and should remain so. Faced with the nebulous inconsistencies and ambiguities surrounding this sensitive, presumably politicized issue, one certainty emerges: each of us, whether a supporter or opponent of the project, a beneficiary or victim, involved or indifferent, could one day bitterly regret their attitude or inaction, if a tragedy were to occur, taking with it a loved one. This investigation is not intended to condemn or stigmatize. It is addressed to Coral, to the other hydrocarbon companies, and to the competent authorities so that they fully exercise their responsibilities, with utmost transparency, to avoid a new cataclysm between Achrafieh and Metn. Prevention is better than having to relive the insurmountable pain of August 4, 2020.

The use by the Israeli air force, on February 1, 2026, of a powerful herbicide, Glyphosate, over vast areas of Lebanese territory, has reignited the question of the deliberate damage inflicted on natural resources in times of war. February 1, 2026: the Israeli air force is observed spraying an apparently toxic substance over large swathes of southern Lebanese territory, in the region of Bint Jbeil. Three days after the incident, on February 4, following analyses conducted on samples collected by the Lebanese army and the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL), the Ministries of Agriculture and Environment announced that the substance in question was Glyphosate, a powerful herbicide. The ministries’ statement reported that the product had been sprayed “at a very high concentration,” denouncing a “flagrant violation of Lebanese sovereignty” and an “ecological crime.” On the Israeli side, the I24 channel referred to an “experimental agricultural spraying along the northern borders with Lebanon and Syria,” acknowledging that the dissemination of these substances aims to “kill vegetation along the borders, out of concern that fighters might hide there.” Israeli aircraft have scarcely left Lebanese airspace since October 2023, when the conflict with Hezbollah began, despite the November 2024 ceasefire. During the months of open warfare between October 2023 and November 2024, Israel had already used toxic and incendiary materials to burn thousands of hectares in Lebanon, notably white phosphorus. The spraying of a powerful herbicide at high concentration over green areas, however, marked a new threshold in this type of violence. Following this episode, Lebanon is preparing a complaint for “environmental crime” before the United Nations, and this is not the first time. In 2006, during the July–August conflict, Israeli aircraft struck the fuel storage tanks of the Jiyeh power plant (south of Beirut), causing an oil spill that polluted the entire Lebanese coastline north of that locality and as far as Syria. No fewer than 15,000 tons of oil were discharged into the sea. The spill led to a complaint by the Lebanese government to the UN, resulting in a non-binding resolution of the General Assembly on December 20, 2014, adopted by 170 votes to 6, demanding that Israel pay more than 856 million dollars in compensation to Lebanon, which it has never done. The spraying of Glyphosate over southern Lebanon, scandalous as it may be, serves as a reminder that environmental crimes in wartime are unfortunately a common practice in conflicts, stretching back to Antiquity and running throughout human history. The following examples are drawn from a list that is far from exhaustive. In Antiquity and Throughout History Wars, from Antiquity through the Middle Ages to the modern era, have witnessed numerous instances of the destruction of agricultural lands, forests, and resources of all kinds, primarily with the aim of depriving the enemy of the means to resist. These methods included the destruction of irrigation canals, artificial flooding and the draining of watercourses and water points, the deliberate salinization of soils, scorched-earth policies, the burning of crops and the cutting down of fruit trees, the poisoning of water sources with corpses, toxic substances or poisonous plants, and the devastation of farmlands, leaving soils depleted for decades. Among the well-known cases is Sparta’s destruction of Attica, the historic region of Greece in the Aegean Sea, during the Peloponnesian War (431–404 BC), characterized in particular by the annihilation of crops, olive groves and farms, with the aim of starving the population into capitulation. As an example of deliberate flooding, one may cite the strategy used among Mesopotamian city-states (third to second millennium BC), when armies breached dams and diverted irrigation canals in order to inundate enemy fields or cities. This practice weakened agricultural economies in an effort to crush resistance entirely. Deliberate flooding was also used defensively, yet its environmental consequences were equally devastating. A case in point is the intentional opening of dikes by Dutch rebels during the Eighty Years’ War (1568–1648) to slow the Spanish army by creating impassable marshlands. While the rebels secured the survival of what was then known as the United Provinces, the effects on agriculture and the environment proved lasting. The “Well-Man,” Centuries Later Another weapon of war with devastating environmental consequences is water poisoning, a tactic common in the Middle Ages, both biological and psychological. Animal corpses and whatever toxic substances were available were used for this purpose. The method was frequently employed during sieges to force besieged towns to surrender. Among well-documented examples is the “Well-Man” episode at Sverresborg in Norway in 1197. During a raid, rival supporters allegedly threw a corpse into a fortress well to overcome the resistance of its defenders. Proof of the deed emerged centuries later, following an archaeological discovery in 1938, when the remains of this “well-man” were indeed uncovered at the site. Other cases of water poisoning were reported over the centuries, including in modern wars, such as when German forces poisoned wells in France during the First World War. In the Middle Ages as well, the destruction of fields and countryside was common, notably during feudal wars in Europe and during the Crusades. One of the most notorious examples of deliberate pollution in the twentieth century is the burning of Kuwaiti oil wells by Iraqi forces during the First Gulf War in 1991. These fires caused severe air pollution, contamination of soil and water, and massive oil spills. Iraq was condemned by the UN to pay reparations to Kuwait. Today, Ukraine accuses Russia of numerous war crimes since the beginning of the Russian invasion four years ago. The most notable example is the destruction of the Kakhovka dam in 2023, which triggered a devastating flood covering more than 20 square kilometers. Legal Status Between historical ecological war crimes and those of the contemporary era, particularly in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, differences abound despite certain similarities. Historically, the damage was more localized and regional, whereas today it can be planetary in scale, affecting shared ecosystems such as the oceans through oil spills, or global biodiversity. Globalization, the worldwide effects of climate change, and the modern military means available to belligerents are liable to amplify the consequences of such attacks, with global risks such as massive population displacement or major food crises. The scale and potential duration of these devastating environmental effects are not the only differences between historical wars and those of today. Awareness has evolved. These crimes now bear a name and legal status: ecocide. The term refers to the gravity, durability and extent of environmental damage resulting from destructive human activities, including the overexploitation of resources, industrial and chemical pollution, and especially war. The term was first used in 1970 by biologist Arthur Galston in reference to the United States’ use of powerful herbicides, notably Agent Orange, to destroy forests and crops during the Vietnam War (1961–1971), with long-lasting health and ecological consequences, including births of children with abnormalities still occurring forty years later. Effects on Climate Change Although the term ecocide already appears in the legislation of certain countries, it is not yet recognized as a specific jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court. The debate continues. Nevertheless, certain international decisions have already been adopted by the UN to compel belligerents to pay reparations to countries victim of devastating environmental attacks, as in the two aforementioned cases: Israel for the 2006 oil spill in Lebanon and Iraq for the Kuwaiti oil-well fires in 1991. Finally, the question of the effects of conflicts on climate change, notably through emissions resulting from the massive use of munitions and the consequences of forest destruction, which are vital carbon sinks, is increasingly raised in the context of annual UN climate summits. The example of the massive Israeli bombardments of Gaza for nearly two years, since October 7, 2023, has been mentioned in this regard. However, the impact of conflicts on climate change has not yet been fully integrated into the process of international negotiations aimed at combating climate change. The issue remains extremely sensitive in more ways than one.

As Pope Leo XIV visits Lebanon — and with the 30th UN Climate Change Conference in Belém, Brazil, ending with few tangible results — it is worth revisiting the concept of « Integral Ecology », a central idea in Pope Francis’s 2015 encyclical « Laudato Si’ ». The document outlines a deeply human and inclusive vision of ecology — one that calls for both spiritual renewal and social justice. The term integral ecology reflects a holistic approach to the relationship between humankind and the environment. It promotes a worldview where environmental, social, cultural, and spiritual dimensions are inseparable. As the French Catholic Church site explains, this concept rests on “the conviction that ecological conversion is not confined to environmental issues alone” but also draws on hope, respect for all life, and a commitment to human dignity and fraternity. The Church, in this view, bears a moral responsibility for the care of Creation. “We forget that we are dust” Though the notion had circulated since the 1980s, it gained renewed momentum with the encyclical “Laudato Si’”, whose title — “Praised be You, my Lord” — echoes a hymn by Saint Francis of Assisi. In this sweeping text, Pope Francis places the protection of nature at the heart of faith in the Creator. “We grew up thinking that we were the owners [of the planet] and its masters… We forget that we ourselves are dust,” he writes, quoting Genesis 2:7. “Our own bodies are made of the same elements as the Earth; its air gives us breath, and its water gives us life.” From there, Francis offers an unsparing diagnosis of the global environmental crisis in a chapter titled “What Is Happening in Our Common Home.” He condemns the devastating impact of human progress on the planet: pollution, climate change, water scarcity, biodiversity loss, and the social and moral costs that accompany them. “If we accept that human beings are creatures of this world, entitled to live and be happy,” he writes, “we cannot ignore how environmental degradation, today’s development model, and the throwaway culture shape human lives.” The encyclical also points to deep global inequality and the weakness of political and collective responses. Where Science Meets Faith One of the boldest sections of “Laudato Si’” calls for dialogue between science and religion. Pope Francis recognizes that many see the two as opposed, yet he argues that they can illuminate each other. “No branch of science, and no form of wisdom — not even religious wisdom — should be excluded,” he writes. In this spirit, Francis aligns himself with the findings of the UN’s Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change (IPCC), which attributes global warming to human activity. He blames not only technology and the illusion of control it brings, but also globalization and its tendency to impose uniform lifestyles and values. One Crisis, Not Many For Francis, the 21st-century crisis is not divided between environmental and social concerns — it is one and the same. Pollution, poverty, exclusion, and the exploitation of resources are interconnected symptoms of a single, global disorder. This is the essence of integral ecology: the world is a network of relationships, and the well-being of one part depends on the whole. The Pope calls for comprehensive solutions that weave together natural ecosystems, social justice, and cultural renewal. He insists that ecology must also be “cultural.” Every community, he says, must be engaged in finding solutions rooted in its own traditions and wisdom. Losing a culture, Francis warns, can be as serious as losing a species. “Laudato Si’” also brings ecology down to the human scale — to daily life and relationships. For Francis, ecological awareness is not just global or institutional; it’s personal. It shapes neighborhoods, housing, public spaces — the fabric of ordinary existence. “What Kind of World Do We Want to Leave?” At the heart of Pope Francis’s reflection lies the question of the common good — the conditions that allow every person and community to thrive. He highlights three pillars: human dignity, the strength of intermediary institutions like the family, and social peace founded on justice and inclusion. The State, he reminds us, must protect this common good as the bedrock of a balanced society, even as inequality continues to grow worldwide. Finally, “Laudato Si’” looks toward future generations, asking the question that runs through the entire text: What kind of world do we want to leave for them? This is more than an ecological question; it is a moral and cultural one. Confronted with the rise of individualism and weakened social bonds, Francis urges a shift from self-interest to shared responsibility — through international cooperation, fairer public policy, greater transparency, and genuine dialogue between science and faith.