“Having waited so long to get my Lebanese ID, I was over the moon when I finally received it. Now that I am officially registered in the country, I can start my diabetes treatment,” says Narjes. She has just been recognised as a Lebanese citizen after spending her entire life – she is 13 years old – without papers to identify her.
The lives of Lebanon’s forgotten people
Rates of birth registration in Lebanon are relatively low, leading to major social problems: if they don’t register their children before their first birthday, parents face a protracted struggle to get them officially recognised.
“Parents who miss this deadline face a costly and lengthy court process, as they must first prove the child’s kinship before they can legally register them,” explains the Norwegian Refugee Council’s (NRC’s) Information, Counselling and Legal Assistance (ICLA) team. In 2023 alone, NRC’s ICLA team received around 50 calls from Lebanese families seeking support in this process.
Rates of birth registration in Lebanon are relatively low, leading to major social problems: if they don’t register their children before their first birthday, parents face a protracted struggle to get them officially recognised.
“Parents who miss this deadline face a costly and lengthy court process, as they must first prove the child’s kinship before they can legally register them,” explains the Norwegian Refugee Council’s (NRC’s) Information, Counselling and Legal Assistance (ICLA) team. In 2023 alone, NRC’s ICLA team received around 50 calls from Lebanese families seeking support in this process.
“When we finally got our IDs, the whole family was really happy – we were jumping for joy."
Domino effect
The last time Lebanon completed a full population census was in 1932, nearly a century ago. There are now around 27,000 stateless people across the country. Notably, statelessness is often passed down through the generations, as children born to unregistered Lebanese parents generally do not receive official documentation, leaving them unable to attend school or receive healthcare, among other basic rights and services. Once they reach adulthood, this lack of documentation creates a domino effect, as they will not be able to register their own marriages, births or other events that require a trip to the civil registry.
However, with support from the European Union, NRC is providing legal counsel and financial assistance to Lebanese people who want to secure official citizenship – and with it a better future.
“[We] got married in 2009,” Mohammed recalls, “but we didn’t have one of the documents we needed to register our marriage. Then, when Narjes, my daughter, was born in 2010, I was once again unable to complete the registration process for her birth.”
When Narjes was subsequently diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, the family faced serious challenges. They had to visit the hospital frequently, but Narjes’s lack of civil documentation was a barrier to accessing healthcare services. In time, a local nurse recommended that the family seek assistance from NRC.
“NRC helped us throughout the registration process,” Mohammed explains. “Without the right guidance and support, we wouldn’t have been able to afford the fees.”
Indeed, NRC’s ICLA team also provides financial assistance to families that need to obtain legal documents in Lebanon, which can be challenging when birth registration has been delayed. DNA tests cost around $150 per person: for a family of four like Mohammed’s, testing the whole family costs $600, which is around two months of income for a Lebanese household nowadays. What’s more, there are additional legal expenses to cover, putting more pressure on families that are often already struggling financially.
Throughout their childhood, Narjes and her brother Hussein were constantly worried about their lack of identification. “Other kids had IDs,” says Narjes, “but we didn’t. I was always scared of being stopped by the police because we didn’t have the right papers.”
“Today, I urge all parents to register their children in good time, otherwise, it will be very costly later,” says Mohammed.
“When we finally got our IDs, the whole family was really happy – we were jumping for joy,” Narjes says.
For Narjes, receiving her official ID means more than just having the state acknowledge her existence. It means enjoying her childhood without constant fear. She now feels excited for the future and dreams of becoming a photographer.
Her family is one of 20 working with NRC in Lebanon to sort out their children’s registrations, with the aim of ensuring access to essential services and protecting their basic rights.
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