BEIRUT, May 14, 2023, 6:00 PM — Karl D. is caught in the chaotic symphony of Beirut’s airport highway for the last time. The cacophony of honking horns, erratic driving, and seemingly endless traffic jams—once the source of his daily frustration—now evoke a bittersweet nostalgia. Minutes earlier, he had bid an emotional farewell to his parents, a heart-wrenching moment that will forever be etched in his memory. For the first time in his life, Karl is leaving behind everything he knows, heading to Montreal, Canada, with a mix of hope and uncertainty in his suitcase.
“Lebanon was draining me,” says Karl, a former professional in the pharmaceutical-cosmetic industry. Like many others, his career was derailed by the unprecedented economic collapse that has ravaged Lebanon since 2019. A currency that has lost 95% of its value, widespread poverty, and a disintegrating infrastructure have left the nation in economic and social ruins.
“This country kills its youth’s dreams,” Karl laments, referring to the suffocating weight of the crisis on an entire generation. Beset by chronic shortages and the constant stress of survival, countless young people like Karl see emigration as their only chance at a better life.
Lebanon is only beginning to mend after a year-long conflict with Israel and the recent election of Joseph Aoun as president, ending a two-year political deadlock. Yet the scars remain deep: the pandemic, the catastrophic Beirut port explosion, and years of political gridlock have left an indelible mark on its citizens.
Exile as a Last Resort
“I made my decision on October 17, 2019,” Karl recalls, referencing the start of Lebanon’s popular uprising—a movement that brimmed with hope but ultimately failed to deliver change. As he rides to the airport, his mind races with unanswerable questions: “Why does our political class remain untouched? Why have so many young people had to leave? Why have so many lives been destroyed?”
During a layover in Amman, the gravity of his departure finally hits him. “It was unbearable, but necessary,” he admits. Arriving in Montreal marks the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with hope, but also the weight of leaving home behind.
Finding a Piece of Home
For Karl, Montreal was an obvious choice, thanks to its vibrant Lebanese community. “You find a bit of home here—the food, the concerts, the language. It helps ease the pain of leaving,” he says.
Lebanese immigration to Montreal, which began in the late 19th century, has surged in recent years. Today, approximately 30% of Lebanese-Canadians—around 400,000 people—live in Quebec.
The community has integrated quickly into Canada’s multicultural fabric, aided by the country’s embrace of diversity and Lebanon’s multilingual heritage. Many Lebanese are fluent in French and English, alongside Arabic, thanks to Lebanon’s robust education system.
In 2023, Canada officially designated November as Lebanese Heritage Month, honoring the contributions of Lebanese-Canadians and recognizing Lebanon’s Independence Day on November 22.
Building a Future
But life in Canada is far from idyllic. “Everything is different here. But if you work hard, there are opportunities,” Karl says, viewing his move as a chance to reinvent himself.
Karl Abou Mansour, another Lebanese-Canadian, echoes this sentiment. “The beginning is hard, but here you can build something. Going back to Lebanon closes all those doors,” he warns.
A construction professional, Abou Mansour attempted to revive his family business in Lebanon after completing his studies, but the 2020 Beirut port explosion shattered those plans. Now based in Montreal with his family, he is forging a new path despite the trials of the past.
His advice to Lebanese students in Canada? “Don’t go back to Lebanon—not yet. Even if you miss your family, stay, find work, and don’t give up. The education you’ve received opens doors here that will close if you return.”
Sacrifices for the Next Generation
In Boisbriand, Céline and her husband Raymond Kodsieh are searching for a school for their son, confident in the quality of education they once prized in Lebanon. “The Lebanese education system is in ruins, but here, we can offer our children a promising future,” Céline says.
While starting over is difficult, Céline sees it as a necessary sacrifice. “You have to accept starting from scratch, but it’s for their benefit. Here, they can thrive.”
The Kodsieh family, like many recent arrivals, relies on the Lebanese community for guidance. From WhatsApp and Facebook groups to Lebanese restaurants and churches, these networks offer a sense of belonging.
Their advice to other Lebanese families preparing to arrive in Montreal? “Stay connected to your loved ones back home—especially through video calls—because flights between Beirut and Montreal are increasingly expensive.”
“It’s a tough decision, but it’s worth it for the kids,” Céline concludes.
As more Lebanese families like Karl’s and the Kodsiehs start over in Canada, their stories reflect both the pain of leaving and the resilience to build anew. For them, exile is not just an escape—it’s a step toward a future filled with hope.
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