Lebanon's Hermel Compound: A Refuge or a Relic? Post-Assad Anxieties Linger in Border Shelter

HERMEL, Lebanon — Nestled near Lebanon's volatile northeastern border with Syria, a gated residential complex provides shelter to hundreds who fled their homes following the collapse of Bashar al-Assad's government over a year ago. Yet, the Imam Ali Housing Compound finds itself at the heart of a contentious debate, accused by some of being a bastion for pro-Assad elements—a claim its residents vehemently deny.

The compound, with its 228 basic housing units, has drawn scrutiny from Lebanese politicians and media, triggering military inspections. While authorities have reported no illegal activity, the spotlight reveals the profound sensitivities and mutual distrust persisting in the wake of Syria's protracted civil war. Posters of Iranian religious figures and fallen Hezbollah commanders adorn walls, further fueling speculation about the site's affiliations.

"We are victims, not conspirators," said Mohammed Assoura, 57, a Syrian refugee who arrived at the compound in October after months of displacement. Sitting in his sparse unit, he dismissed the label ‘fuloul’ (remnants of the regime). "I escaped with my wife on a motorcycle with nothing but a small bag. We fear retaliation, not plan it."

The facility was conceived by Hermel's municipality as a humanitarian response to a sudden crisis. Mayor Ali Taha recounted the influx of roughly 50,000 people into the town following Assad's fall, overwhelming local infrastructure. "Schools needed to reopen. We had to find a solution for those with no means," Taha explained, noting that funding came from Shiite religious institutions in Iraq and Iran. He dismissed allegations of anti-Syrian plotting as "politically motivated."

Lebanon's army has conducted multiple raids following allegations, including from anti-Hezbollah lawmakers like Ghada Ayoub of the Lebanese Forces Party, who questioned the compound's construction "by an armed group" in a sensitive zone. Each sweep has concluded without evidence of illicit arms or recruitment, though suspicions persist.

Background & Analysis: The compound's story is inextricably linked to Hezbollah's deep involvement in Syria. The group's military support for Assad, particularly its 2013 capture of the border town of Qusair, exacerbated sectarian divisions. Today, new refugees are predominantly Shiite and Alawite, minorities fearing reprisals under Syria's new Sunni-led authorities. While interim President Ahmad al-Sharaa has vowed accountability for sectarian violence, trust remains scarce. The UN refugee agency states it has no presence or information about the site, highlighting its informal and opaque nature.

For residents like Maha al-Abeer, a widow from Qusair who runs a small grocery, the compound is simply sanctuary. "Thank God we are sheltered. It's better than tents or mosques," she said. Elderly couple Shayban and Ihasn Midlij, who fled their lifelong farm, share a unit with their daughter's family. "We are all old people waiting to die and be buried," Ihasn said, weary of the accusations.

The compound stands as a physical manifestation of unresolved fears—a place where humanitarian need collides with the lingering ghosts of a brutal conflict, and where identity alone can be grounds for suspicion.

Voices & Reaction

Karim Al-Jamil, Political Analyst, Beirut: "This situation is a microcosm of Lebanon's impossible balancing act. It's a humanitarian shelter, yet its funding and symbolism are unavoidably geopolitical. The authorities' clean bills of health haven't dispelled the narrative, which is now entrenched in the wider proxy tensions."

Layla Harb, NGO Relief Coordinator, Tripoli: "Our visits confirm these are vulnerable families seeking basic safety. Politicizing their suffering distracts from the real issue: a massive, underfunded refugee crisis that Lebanon cannot shoulder alone. We must separate aid from ideology."

Faris Ghattas, Editor, Al-Mustaqbal News: (Emotionally sharp) "Let's be clear: this is a Hezbollah-run enclave built with Iranian money on the border. It's not about 'shelter'—it's about preserving a militia network and planting a loyalist community. The army's 'findings' are a farce, and the world is ignoring a ticking security bomb."

Sarah El-Khoury, Sociology Professor, AUB: "The 'fuloul' rhetoric is dangerously dehumanizing. It brands an entire community based on sect and past geography, blocking any chance of reconciliation. These people are the human cost of transition, and their fear of reprisal is tragically rational given recent history."