Between Two Crises: Mobility, Belonging, and Survival among Lebanese Venezuelans
Assma Jihad Awkal, MA in Migration Studies and Graduate Researcher - LAU, Immigration and Border Governance Assistant - IOM, & Research Fellow - Institute of Migration Studies
Duaa Nooreddine, Ph.D. Candidate in Political and Social Sciences - EUI, & Research Fellow - Institute of Migration Studies
For generations, the story of Lebanese migration to Venezuela seemed to follow a familiar trajectory. Families left Lebanon in search of opportunity, settled in Venezuela, built businesses, raised children, and established communities that became deeply embedded in the country’s social and economic life. Over time, Lebanese Venezuelans developed identities that blended Lebanese cultural traditions with Venezuelan social and political realities. Lebanon remained important as a homeland and source of heritage, but for many, Venezuela became home.
Today, however, that sense of permanence has been profoundly unsettled.
The first days of 2026 brought yet another shock to Venezuela. The sudden abduction of President Nicolás Maduro on January 3 generated new political uncertainty in a country already struggling with years of economic collapse, hyperinflation, and social instability. Analysts warned of renewed turbulence surrounding oil revenues, sanctions, and government spending, raising fears of further deterioration in living conditions. For many Venezuelans, these developments reinforced existing pressures to leave. For Lebanese Venezuelans, however, the situation is more complicated. Unlike many other Venezuelans, they often have another place to go: Lebanon.
Yet Lebanon offers little certainty of its own.
The country remains trapped in the aftermath of financial collapse, ongoing economic hardship, and continued regional instability. Despite ceasefire agreements, tensions and violence persist in southern Lebanon, while recovery efforts remain fragile and contested. For Lebanese Venezuelans contemplating return, Lebanon represents cultural familiarity and family ties, but rarely economic security or political stability. As one diaspora member observed, many who returned imagining Lebanon as a refuge discovered instead that it was facing crises of its own.
As a result, Lebanese Venezuelans increasingly find themselves caught between two countries experiencing different but overlapping forms of instability. Neither Venezuela nor Lebanon can reliably offer what migrants traditionally seek: safety, predictability, and the possibility of building a stable future. This reality is transforming migration itself.
Rather than moving permanently from one country to another, many Lebanese Venezuelans are adopting what might be understood as oscillatory migration. Families move back and forth between Venezuela and Lebanon, continuously reassessing where risk appears marginally lower and where opportunities for survival remain possible. Decisions are often less about aspiration than about managing uncertainty.
Interviewees described these calculations in remarkably pragmatic terms. One respondent explained that despite Venezuela’s ongoing difficulties, it still felt safer than parts of southern Lebanon:
“In Venezuela, I can work in almost anything and still support my family. Where I’m from in southern Lebanon, safety is never guaranteed. Some areas are calm now, but not our own home.”
Others described living in a state of suspension rather than making definitive decisions. One participant preparing to relocate to Lebanon to restart a business admitted uncertainty about whether the move would be permanent:
“We’ll explore and wait out the situation, but I don’t know. I’m still in between.”
That phrase—in between—appeared repeatedly throughout interviews. It captures not only a geographical reality but also an emotional and political one. Many Lebanese Venezuelans no longer experience belonging as tied to a single place. Instead, home becomes something negotiated across borders, crises, and shifting opportunities.
For some, this uncertainty is prompting consideration of onward migration to entirely new destinations, particularly the United States. One respondent described beginning the process of applying to move there, despite the irony of seeking safety in a country whose foreign policies are often perceived as shaping political dynamics in both Venezuela and the Middle East.
“It is funny and alarming how we would eventually end up going there of all places.”
This observation reflects a broader reality. Lebanese Venezuelans are navigating not only the crises of two countries but also the global systems that shape mobility itself. The same international power structures associated with sanctions, intervention, and geopolitical instability also determine access to visas, asylum pathways, and opportunities for long-term settlement elsewhere. Migration becomes both a response to crisis and a navigation of the forces that help produce it.
These movements are also reshaping understandings of identity and belonging. Many respondents described themselves as simultaneously Lebanese, Venezuelan, and, in some cases, broadly Latin American. Their identities are neither fixed nor singular. They are products of movement, adaptation, and multiple attachments that shift depending on context.
For younger generations in particular, home is increasingly defined less by territory than by possibility. One interviewee described home simply as “a safe and peaceful place where I can build a future for my loved ones.” Another reflected on family expectations surrounding return, recalling how older relatives imagined Lebanon as the place where one should eventually grow old, even as present realities make such a future difficult to envision.
Yet despite the uncertainty, Lebanon continues to occupy a powerful place in the imagination of many Lebanese Venezuelans. Several participants described an enduring emotional attachment to a country they may not currently be able to return to permanently. As one respondent reflected:
“Venezuela is where we find security and financial possibility now. But deep down, many of us believe we should grow old in Lebanon.”
The experience of Lebanese Venezuelans challenges conventional understandings of migration and diaspora. Rather than a story of departure followed by settlement, it reveals how migration increasingly operates as an ongoing response to overlapping crises. Belonging is not stable. Return is not final. Settlement is not guaranteed. Instead, mobility itself becomes a strategy of survival.
In 2026, Lebanese Venezuelans find themselves navigating two fragile states, uncertain futures, and multiple possible destinations. Their experience demonstrates that in an era defined by overlapping political, economic, and security crises, migration is often less about finding stability than about learning how to live with instability. For many, survival no longer depends on staying or returning. It depends on the ability to keep moving.