By Judy Yahiaoui | Staff Writer
Amid the 2024 war’s chaos and confusion, the American University of Beirut (AUB) became a safe place for people looking to escape the emotional and physical turmoil, pursuing everyone like a dark shadow. Through the war’s events, AUB showed that it was more than just a place of learning— it was a place of safety, revealing the deep human connections that bind its community together.
Under Mona El Hallak’s leadership, the Neighborhood Initiative became a lifeline for many. With the help of local aid groups, businesses, and relying on the selfless work of student volunteers, public schools were turned into shelters for the displaced. These weren’t just rooms with a roof, but spaces offering basic needs: clean supplies, warm food, beds, and medical aid. In just ten days, more than eight hundred people found support across different centers in many areas in Lebanon.
Beyond the organized efforts, unexpected acts of kindness brought comfort to many. The university opened up its dorm rooms for people who had been forced away from their homes. Students took the initiative to help people in their communities, offering shelter, services, or just a person to talk to. Many even took on the personal initiative of preparing meals and kits for families displaced around the university. Professors went beyond teaching, making sure their students felt seen and cared for during these difficult times, taking on the initiative of providing whatever services and help it could take to make the semester smooth for all, making sure the efforts of students were not in vain. In these moments, the usual lines between teacher and student disappeared, instead displaying a community connected by something deeper than titles—a shared sense of humanity.
The night of the ceasefire was a powerful moment of both hope and fear. The joy of the announcement quickly gave way to worry about what might come next. With rockets still falling— more intense, more random than ever before—people faced an uncertain future. AUB made a quick and heartfelt decision: to welcome anyone in need of safety. A simple email went out, informing students that the campus was open to all, a meaningful act that may seem small but still provided a sense of comfort, of knowing there is a place with its doors open where you’d be a little safer. When facing such hardship, AUB’s community showed that support is more than just an idea—it’s something real and lived. Through planned efforts and spontaneous acts of kindness, they created a safety net for people who felt like they were falling into despair.
War is never easy, and its effects continue long after the fighting stops. But even in the darkest moments, kindness exists. At AUB, kindness wasn’t just present—it was everywhere. Students who were struggling in these dark times found the strength to help others. Students would seek refuge on campus; they would seek a sense of normalcy, even for the slightest moment. Professors would give out any extra time they’d have to comfort and guide students feeling lost, grieving, and bombarded with worry. Staff members worked tirelessly to create spaces where people could feel safe and valued. Around-the-clock counseling was available so students wouldn’t have to wait for someone to talk to… The university became more than just buildings and classrooms. It transformed into a home for many, ensuring everyone knew they mattered and were not alone.
Each act of help, no matter how small, was a reminder of our shared humanity. A clean blanket, a warm meal, a listening ear— these became acts of resilience against the destruction around them. What made AUB’s response special wasn’t just the scale of help made available, but the heart and spirit it led with. It wasn’t about counting how many people were helped or tracking numbers, it was about seeing each person’s full humanity. Every displaced individual wasn’t just someone needing aid, but a person with a story, with hopes, with fears. The Neighborhood Initiative, among many others, showed how community support can look in real life. It wasn’t just about giving things to people, but about creating connections.
Local businesses, student volunteers, and aid groups worked together like a single, caring organism. They didn’t just provide shelter; they were on a mission to restore dignity to those who had lost everything.
Professors and students went far beyond their usual roles. They became a support system, a family chosen in moments of crisis. The usual boundaries—between teacher and student, between those who help and those who need help—became blurry. Everyone was both a helper and someone needing support.
In the end, AUB’s story during the 2024 war is a powerful reminder of human resilience. It shows that even when the world seems to be falling apart, people can come together. Kindness can be a powerful force, stronger than the divisions that try to tear communities apart.
The war tested everyone, but it also revealed something beautiful: our ability to care for each other. At AUB, in the middle of chaos, humanity didn’t just survive—it shined brightly, offering hope when hope was shrouded in darkness.