Lebanon is facing a silent yet deadly crisis: it holds the grim title of the fastest-rising cancer rates and deaths in the world. But here's where it gets even more alarming—the reasons behind this surge are deeply rooted in everyday life, from the air people breathe to the habits they can't seem to shake. Imagine a city like Beirut, where the skyline is often obscured by a thick layer of smog, not from factories, but from the exhaust of cars, trucks, and diesel generators. This isn’t just an environmental issue; it’s a public health emergency.
On a bustling street in Beirut, Ali Mokdad, a health expert from the University of Washington, points out the obvious: “Cars spew smoke illegally, yet no one enforces the rules.” This lack of regulation has turned the city into a hotbed for air pollution, a major contributor to Lebanon’s skyrocketing cancer rates. And this is the part most people miss—it’s not just the big cities; rural areas are equally affected as vehicles and generators belch toxins across the country.
Mokdad’s global survey, published in The Lancet, reveals a staggering reality: Lebanon’s cancer cases surged by 162% from 1990 to 2023, with deaths rising by 80%. To put it in perspective, in 2023, for every 100,000 people, there were 233.5 new cancer cases. But here’s the controversial part—while the government profits from the tobacco industry, there are no public health campaigns warning against smoking or secondhand smoke. Instead, smoking has become so normalized that even children light up in front of their parents.
Air pollution isn’t the only culprit. Lebanon’s agricultural practices, heavily reliant on chemicals, contaminate water sources. “People wash their food with water tainted by sewage and chemicals,” Mokdad explains. “They’re consuming toxins without even realizing it.”
The biggest risk factor, however, is smoking. Lebanon’s lung cancer rates have soared, and other cancers like leukemia, pancreatic, and liver cancer are on the rise. Even preventable cancers—prostate, colon, and breast—are claiming lives due to lack of early screening. Here’s the kicker—screening is available, but most people don’t know to seek it out. Health education is virtually nonexistent, leaving many unaware of life-saving measures.
When Mokdad presented his findings to the Lebanese parliament, the response was telling. “Many lawmakers admitted they weren’t surprised,” he says. “But my question is: Why hasn’t action been taken sooner?” Parliament member and physician Inaya Ezzeddine acknowledges the challenge: “Change is a journey, not an overnight fix. It requires political will and collaboration across sectors.”
While the government forms committees to address the issue, individuals like Iman Nuwayhid, a public health professor, stress personal responsibility. “We must clean up our country, reduce pollution, and improve our environment,” he urges. “The government has a bigger role, but we all share responsibility.”
Outside a Beirut building, Najah Mourda, a 57-year-old smoker, reflects on her losses to cancer. “I’ve lost my mother, sister, and a close friend,” she says. “I know smoking is harmful, but quitting is hard.” Her son, Marwan Bizri, adds, “We’re losing people we love to cancer. It’s devastating.”
Lebanon’s cancer crisis is a wake-up call, not just for the nation but for the world. Here’s the question that lingers—can a country trapped in a cycle of pollution, poor health education, and government inaction turn the tide? And what role should individuals play in demanding change? The clock is ticking, and the stakes couldn’t be higher.
