Following the fall of Bashar al-Assad’s regime, thousands of former regime loyalists—including Syrian members of Hezbollah and affiliated military personnel—have fled to neighboring Lebanon. Now, facing increasing security restrictions and deteriorating living conditions, many are seeking new destinations for resettlement through embassies and UN refugee agencies.
According to Lebanon’s Ministry for the Displaced, some 170,000 Syrians crossed into the country between December and January alone, the majority settling in border areas such as Baalbek and Hermel. These regions are overseen by Hezbollah-affiliated organizations like the Batoul Cooperatives, which monitor the newcomers’ presence and activities.
Movement Restrictions and the “Travel Permit”
The economic and security pressures on this group have worsened over recent months. Many complain of being confined to specific areas and facing bureaucratic hurdles, including the requirement to obtain a “travel permit” before moving within Lebanon.
Abu Abbas, a former Hezbollah fighter from northern Homs who fought in Syria from 2014 until the regime’s collapse, recounted his unsuccessful attempt to bring his son into Beirut’s Rafic Hariri International Airport. “I was denied a travel permit,” he said, “because too many people had already traveled to Beirut before Eid al-Adha. The authorities feared losing control in areas where Hezbollah’s influence is weaker.”
Others, like Yasser from the Sayyida Zainab suburb near Damascus, described the opaque and selective nature of the travel permit system: “For every three or four refusals, you might get one approval,” he explained, noting that medical emergencies and short-term jobs are prioritized, while long-term travel or visits are usually denied.
Limited Work, Rising Costs
These restrictions have effectively confined many of the displaced Assad loyalists to menial jobs in agriculture, construction, or small-scale retail in the Bekaa Valley. However, opportunities are scarce, wages are low (often under $200 per month), and living costs are rising—especially rent, which can range from $250 to $350.
This economic squeeze is driving many to seek legal status and better prospects elsewhere. Yasser, for instance, has applied for a tourist visa to Iraq, where he hopes to convert it into a work residency with the help of a sponsor.
Iraq tops the list of preferred destinations for these Syrians, but others are also applying to Gulf states such as the UAE, Oman, Tunisia, and Algeria, where they believe they might find more stability and job opportunities.
Seeking a Future Beyond the Region
Still, the majority of these individuals—especially families—are aiming further afield. Many are registering with the UNHCR and applying for asylum in Western countries including France, Germany, the Netherlands, Canada, Brazil, and even French Guiana.
Mousa Abu Ali, originally from the rural town of Tel Kalakh in Homs, described a growing sense among displaced loyalists that they are no longer welcome in Lebanon. “We feel like a burden. There’s a push to limit our mobility, raise our housing costs, and force us to regularly report to Hezbollah offices. It’s suffocating.”
Mousa has already filed for asylum in France and registered with UN resettlement agencies, hoping to leave Lebanon with his family before being pressured to return to Syria. “Heading to an Arab country,” he said, “is just a way to delay being sent back.”
Caught in a Legal Grey Zone
The UNHCR does offer third-country resettlement options for individuals who cannot return to their home country and face continued protection risks. However, such support is only available to those officially recognized as refugees. For Assad-era loyalists who fled after the regime’s collapse—many of whom entered Lebanon irregularly—this status remains elusive, complicating their efforts to secure relocation or legal stability abroad.
As Lebanon grapples with its own political and economic crises, these ex-regime affiliates find themselves increasingly isolated—without refugee status, without stable incomes, and without a country to call home. Their future now hinges on whether the international community will offer them legal recognition—or whether they will be left as pawns in a post-Assad power game.
This article was translated and edited by The Syrian Observer. The Syrian Observer has not verified the content of this story. Responsibility for the information and views set out in this article lies entirely with the author.
