Tyr, Lebanon: Fishermen struggle in war-torn region

In the ancient port city of Tyr, the sun shines brightly as temperatures reach 20 degrees Celsius in the shade on this late April day.

Normally, during this pre-summer period, the docks should be bustling with people, but the situation is far from normal.

A deep rumble, like that of an Israeli fighter jet, echoes in the sky above our heads. It is accompanied by the persistent buzz of a drone flying low over the port. It is visible even to the naked eye.

Here, it’s hard to forget the ongoing war that continues to ravage the region, despite the ceasefire in effect for 12 days.

Less than 10 kilometers away lies the buffer zone that Israel wants to establish along its border in southern Lebanon, encompassing over 60 Lebanese villages, most of which have been partially or completely destroyed and are now off-limits to civilians.

The buffer zone is not limited to land; it extends into the sea, depriving southern fishermen of their traditional fishing grounds, where fish are more abundant.

For Issa Darwish, a Palestinian fisherman from Lebanon who has been fishing since the age of 9, there is clearly a before and an after-war.

But when Israel intensified its strikes against Lebanon on March 2, after Hezbollah launched rockets against its territory in response to the war against Iran, his sponsor, fishermen in Tyr were confined to the port, and their boats were immobilized at the dock.

It was only 46 days later, with the announcement of the ceasefire, that fishermen were able to return to the sea, but not without restrictions: they can now only sail during the day and in a single direction, northwards.

“Sometimes [the Israelis] contact the Lebanese army intelligence services based in the port of Tyr to inform them that fishing boats are prohibited from going out to sea,” explains 22-year-old Issa.

Less lucrative fishing

“There are far fewer fish off the coast of Tyr,” says Mohammad Darwish, Issa’s uncle. “We earn less money from fishing today. The price of fish has dropped because there is not enough demand, fewer customers.”

Issa and Mohammad carefully remove the fish from their nets one by one. These are needlefish, a long-beaked fish that thrives near the shores. So they didn’t have to venture far out to sea to catch them.

That day, they caught 150 kilos. Before the war, they often returned with at least 400 kilos, and a greater variety.

Sitting on his fishing boat, repairing his nets on the opposite pier, Kamal Istanbouli, 53, is busy mending his nets. “They need maintenance from time to time,” he says.

This fisherman, who dropped out of school at the age of 13 out of love for the sea, has not been as fortunate as the Darwish family. His catch is meager: five kilos of sea bass and an octopus. He sold everything at the port fishery.

“Sometimes I make $50 to $70 a day, not like the West where the state doesn’t help us. If we don’t work, we don’t eat. We have to go out to sea every day to fish,” he explains.

A tough life for fishermen

Moustapha Chahine, the owner of the fishery, observes the exodus of fishermen from Tyr. Before the war, there were over 500. Today, there are around 70 left.

He denounces the harassment they face at sea from the Israeli navy.

During the ceasefire that ended the last war between Israel and Hezbollah a year ago, two fishermen were abducted at sea, a few nautical miles from Tyr. They have still not been released.

The Israeli military justifies these interventions by saying they monitor the Lebanese coast to prevent any infiltration or Hezbollah-related activity. In October 2024, Israel had already ordered the evacuation of certain coastal areas in southern Lebanon for maritime operations, paralyzing the local fishing economy.

Moustapha, however, asserts that the Israeli practice of abducting fishermen at sea dates back to the 1980s, even before the creation of Hezbollah. He mentions that his own father was kidnapped by the Israeli navy while fishing. “My father had no political affiliations,” says Moustapha. “He was interrogated and held in Israel for 40 days before being released.”

“We have suffered too much. Those who do not live in southern Lebanon do not know the suffering we endure. That is why we defend our lands. It’s unfair.”

He refuses to leave Tyr. “I’m practically born in the sea. I’ve spent my whole life here,” he says, while scaling a fish.

“I’m 40 years old. I’ve experienced the wars of 1990, 1992, 1996, 2000, as well as the wars of 2006, 2024, and 2026. I’ve never left here. I won’t leave,” he insists.

The bond with the sea is what unites all the fishermen who have stayed in Tyr, despite the restrictions and the war. Most say they feel safer on the water than on land. But they all hope for better days to return to the open sea, where the fish are plentiful.