Last week in Beirut, scenes unfolded that seemed to come straight out of a dystopian novel or science fiction film. The idea that something as familiar as a phone, meant to connect and empower us, could turn against us and explode was like a dark sci-fi story brought to life.

What followed was nothing short of chaos, as panic swept through the city, leaving a surreal nightmare in its wake that was almost impossible to fathom.

The bizarre situation brought to mind the 1871 novel The Coming Race by English author Edward Bulwer-Lytton, in which a young traveller ventures into the Earth’s depths and encounters the Vril-ya, an ancient race with supernatural powers derived from a mysterious energy source known as “Vril.” With this power, they can heal, transform, and even destroy entire cities.

The explosions of wireless devices in Lebanon last week echoed the same sense of terrifying unpredictability. What were once harmless pagers, mobile phones, and walkie-talkies, all everyday forms of technology, suddenly transformed into deadly weapons, akin to the destructive force of Vril in Bulwer-Lytton’s fiction.

The explosions caused physical harm, but more than that they sowed fear and paranoia. What if the very tools we rely on every day could no longer be trusted? What if the devices that keep us connected, informed, and distracted could suddenly become instruments of chaos and death?

It is a reality that seems too horrific to imagine, and a dystopian landscape where technology betrays its users. Beirut’s tragedy forces us to confront this unsettling possibility: even the most ordinary objects could become the next source of disaster.

Already teetering on the edge of collapse, Lebanon was plunged deeper into chaos as a series of explosions shook Beirut and its surrounding regions. Accusations were swiftly pointed towards Israel, with many condemning the events as war crimes. The fragile nation, still reeling from previous crises, was further destabilised by the unprecedented detonation of thousands of pagers and walkie-talkies in two separate incidents.

At approximately 4:00pm on 17 September, reports of a security incident in Beirut’s southern suburbs began to flood social media platforms. Initially, it seemed like yet another act of aggression, reminiscent of earlier drone strikes that had violated Lebanese airspace. However, within minutes, the unmistakable sound of ambulance sirens pierced the air not only of Beirut, but also across Southern Lebanon and as far away as the Bekaa Valley.

What had initially seemed like an isolated attack quickly revealed itself to be something far more sinister. Social media and WhatsApp groups were soon awash with reports of mobile devices exploding in multiple areas, accompanied by harrowing video clips that spread rapidly online. The footage was chilling: people collapsing on the ground, smoke billowing into the sky, and terrified screams echoing through streets as scenes of widespread destruction unfolded.

The wail of ambulances reverberated through towns and cities, heightening the sense of alarm. Even in areas relatively distant from the explosions, the sound of sirens filled the air, magnifying the fear and confusion spreading across the country.

By the end of the day, more than 3,000 civilians and military personnel had been injured, and the confirmed death toll had climbed to at least 37. The numbers were expected to rise as the scale of the devastation became clearer.

The randomness of the explosions, coupled with their sheer brutality, left many Lebanese in shock. Even those far from the blast zones were haunted by the sound of ambulances and the sense of impending danger.

This dystopian episode, where ordinary devices suddenly turned deadly, has left Lebanon grappling with an unsettling new reality. Everyday tools we rely on for communication became life-threatening in an instant. The nation is now left with a haunting question: in a world where technology can so easily be weaponised, how can we trust devices that have become essential to our survival?

 

HIZBULLAH TARGETED: The main target of the attacks was Hizbullah. The group’s communications systems were paralysed, and several of their members were critically affected.

Hizbullah has blamed Israel for the attacks, citing meticulous planning and the involvement of “front companies” and multiple layers of Israeli intelligence. According to reports in the New York Times, three grams of explosives were placed inside the pagers, which were remotely detonated.

The origin of the pagers remains uncertain. The Taiwanese company Gold Apollo, whose branding is on the devices, insists that they were manufactured by a Hungarian company called BAC, which holds a licence to use its name.

In the immediate aftermath of the explosions, Beirut streets plunged into chaos. The city resounded with the wail of ambulance sirens as more than 1,100 emergency vehicles raced to transport the injured. Hospitals were quickly overwhelmed, unable to cope with the influx of patients.

The scenes that unfolded were hauntingly reminiscent of the August 2020 explosion in Beirut’s Port, with injured people lying on the streets, blood pooling on the ground, and hospitals struggling under the weight of severely wounded victims, many clutching their limbs, eyes, or stomachs in pain.

Families frantically gathered, desperately searching for loved ones, only to be met with the harsh reality that many would never return. Among the heart-wrenching moments was that of a young woman arriving at a hospital carrying her fiancé’s severed finger still adorned with his engagement ring.

To her astonishment, she found him alive. When he saw her, he asked, “will you continue the journey with me after I have lost my finger and my eye?” Her tearful reply was “as long as you have a pulse, I will be with you forever.”

It seems that Israel was not content with killing civilians and injuring nearly 3,000 people who had wireless devices. The following day, it resumed its attacks on these devices, resulting in 25 more dead and 608 injured.

The horror did not stop there. In the afternoon, during the funerals of the dead people, Israel continued its assault, detonating more devices, spreading panic and new fears of exploding phones and batteries.

Among the victims were children and the elderly. The scale of human suffering that has resulted is immense, made even more unbearable by Lebanon’s economic collapse, which has left the country ill-prepared to deal with such a disaster. Many of the injured have lost either their eyes or their hands.

In a brutal continuation of the violence, just two days after the initial attack, residential buildings were hit by Israeli attacks. In the southern suburbs of Beirut, a building was demolished by four missiles, and an underground garage used by Hizbullah was also struck.

The death toll from the raid has now reached 45, including three children and seven women, with an additional 68 people wounded.

Hizbullah was mourning 16 of its members as of 21 September, including Ibrahim Aqil, a senior leader responsible for operations, and Ahmed Mahmoud Wahbi, who led the military operations of the Radwan Force during the initial support for Hamas on 8 October last year.

The Israeli Army has confirmed the assassination of Aqil and several leaders of the Radwan Force, adding that “there is no change in the instructions for the internal front at this time.” Reports indicate that the attack was carried out using four missiles launched from an F-15 aircraft.

As night fell over the southern suburbs of Beirut, the destruction left in the wake of the strikes was immense. Reconnaissance planes hovered in the sky, while ambulances and rescue teams worked tirelessly to sift through the rubble in search of survivors. Civil defence units and the Red Cross continued to recover bodies, the debris strewn with the corpses of men, women, and children.

The Al-Qaim neighbourhood in Dahiye in Beirut, typically a bustling residential area, was one of the hardest hit. An explosion took place during rush hour, when families were gathered at home, children coming back from school, and many sitting down to meals with their loved ones. A nearby mosque, a popular gathering spot, was left standing, but the explosion shattered the lives of everyone in the vicinity.

Shops, vegetable stands, Internet cafes, bakeries, and residential apartments were obliterated. The once-vibrant street now stands as a ghostly reminder of what was, a mere shadow of its former self. Families who once filled these streets, leading ordinary lives, now wander through them as broken remnants of their former selves.

Faces blank with shock, their eyes carry the weight of an uncertain future. Entire families were discovered buried beneath the rubble, their dreams and hopes extinguished in an instant. Among the victims was Rula Al-Daqduqi, an architect whose life, like so many others, was tragically cut short.

The scenes in Al-Qaim reflect the broader devastation across the country. Lebanon, a nation familiar with hardship, now faces one of its darkest chapters yet. Whether a wider war can still be averted remains to be seen, but for now the people of Lebanon are left to endure, hoping for peace amidst an almost unrelenting storm of violence.

* A version of this article appears in print in the 26 September, 2024 edition of Al-Ahram Weekly