International organisations responding to large-scale forced displacement often speak the mantra of ‘social cohesion’, drawn to its comforting promise of ‘peace’ through a sense of unity and belonging. From the World Bank to UNDP, policy papers and interventions increasingly pledge to ‘enhance’ and ‘build’ this social cohesion, producing measurable ‘outputs’ through initiatives that ‘promote dialogue’ between communities, tackle ‘fake news’ about refugees, or arrange joint activities, such as cash-for-work schemes employing both displaced and host populations.  

In this article I’ll argue that social cohesion frameworks and interventions now risk becoming yet another empty rhetorical cover, obscuring rather than addressing entrenched systems of exploitation. As with so many interventions in the field, the actual reality of such programming can often amount to superficial short-term gestures that barely touch the underlying forces driving discord. Prolonged refugee displacement, I suggest, ought to be understood not just as a question of ‘integration’ but also through a labour-rights framework. This would require systemic change, including legal protections for workers, fair wages, decent jobs, the promotion of collective bargaining and labour organising among long-term displaced people. 

The plight of Syrian workers in Lebanon offers a case in point. Lebanon’s relationship with Syria is, to put it lightly, a fraught one, marked by the Syrian military occupation from 1976 to 2005, as well as the ongoing Syrian civil war, which has brought over a million refugees into Lebanon since 2011. The refugees’ arrival has triggered complex responses in Lebanon, intimately intersecting with divergent political attitudes towards its neighbouring coutry. 

Syrians have long been interwoven into Lebanon’s economic life. During the Ottoman period, a common political-administrative framework and lack of formal borders facilitated movement and trade. With the growth of wage labour, from the late 19th century onwards, a steady stream of labourers began to make their way across the border, their numbers rising and falling with the tides of economic opportunity. They built Lebanon’s infrastructure, toiling on its construction sites and agricultural fields, forming the human foundation for the country’s post-civil-war growth. When the Syrian war erupted in 2011 and the refugee crisis escalated, many of these labourers had been travelling intermittently to Lebanon for years, sometimes decades, with patterns of labour and family migration stretching back generations. Now they were being transformed against their will from workers to ‘refugees’ — while often remaining formally unrecognised as such. 

On the surface, we might conclude that the cultural conditions for promoting ‘social cohesion’ are ideal. Syrians share much with their Lebanese counterparts: they speak the same language, with only slight dialectical variations, and many belong to the same religious communities. (Even for those not from the same community, there have been notable periods of coexistence among sectarian groups in Lebanon, including during the Ottoman period and in the cross-sectarian left-wing alliances of the Civil War (1975-1990). Historical ties between the two groups run deep. Yet discord not only persists but is intensifying. Subtle differences in accent are mocked; classist language permeates the Lebanese media; Syrians are subjected to arbitrary curfews; and politicians routinely flirt with breaching international non-refoulement protocols by forcibly returning refugees across the border. 

Social discord reached new heights in the wake of Lebanon’s recent fiscal crisis — which saw the country’s currency plummet and multi-dimensional poverty soar from 42% in 2019 to 82% in 2021.  In 2024, an ARK perception survey recorded that over a third of Lebanese (37.4%) described their relations with Syrians as ‘negative’ or ‘very negative’.  Largely this was due to perceived labour-market competition as well as ideas of the Lebanese’ unfair preferment by the humanitarian system. Given that such negative perceptions are increasing, existing aid and development activities, including ‘social cohesion’ programming, could only be said to have slowed this rise, at the most.  

We might want to think of the cultural relationship between Syrians and Lebanese populations as an example of the narcissism of small differences, which tends to be inflated during times of crisis (See Figure 1). Apt as this might be, development programming that deals with discord at the psycho-social level in isolation is not enough. We must instead uncover, and intervene on, the material drivers of discord, by which I mean the specific catalysts for (dis-)integrating Syrian labour within Lebanon’s political economy, and the class interests that benefit from those uneven dynamics. 

Syrian labour migration 

John Chalcraft’s book, A Gaiola Invisível (published in 2008, years before the refugee crisis), provides a compelling account of the historic role that ‘non-cohesion’ has played in regulating a temporary flow of workers across the Syria-Lebanon border. The title itself serves as a metaphor for the informal mechanisms of control and constraint that have limited the freedoms of migrant labourers without the overt pressure of official regulations. Syrians could enter Lebanon without a visa and work in sectors like agriculture, construction, and services, usually on a seasonal or informal basis. 

Instead of legal controls, workers faced a range of subtle pressures and dependencies that kept them in subjection, including exploitative labour practices, lack of legal protections and social marginalisation. Meanwhile, in Syria, an array of redistributive economic policies – state-provided services, price controls, and the like – all ensured that social reproduction took place on that side of the border. Syrian men in Lebanon slept in crowded apartments or within empty half-built flats on the construction sites where they worked, sent money home, eventually returned, wed, and then sent their sons to Lebanon. The result being that Lebanon only ever maintained a flow of temporary, predominantly male migrant workers, with no second generation born there. Lebanese capitalists, happy with this arrangement, were rewarded with lower wage costs for a precarious and therefore easily exploited workforce, maximising profits in construction and other industries.

But this arrangement began to fall away in 2011, the point at which Lebanon entered into its ongoing ‘protracted crisis’. In January 2015, the country imposed new entry regulations, requiring Syrians to obtain visas categorised by specific purposes such as tourism, business, or medical treatment. So marked the end of the open-border policy. Syrians already in Lebanon were required to regularise their status by obtaining or renewing residency permits –– a process that became increasingly complex and costly. Those working also had to acquire permits, limited to three sectors: agriculture, construction, and environmental services (sanitation and cleaning). Syrians renewing their permits under the ‘humanitarian’ category had to sign a pledge not to work. The authorities also sporadically increased enforcement against Syrians working without permits, leading to fines, arrests, and potential deportation; they have been accused of doing so during moments of political tension, such as election time, in an effort to shore-up support by scapegoating refugees for Lebanon’s ongoing crises.  The vast majority of Syrian workers have not regularised their status. An ILO survey in 2020 found that 95% were working without a valid permit. 

As I argue in my own book, Rebel Populism: Revolution and loss among Syrian labourers in Beirut, the tightened policies were a response to a change in a broader pattern of Syrian labour migration that came with the war. This transformation was not just a matter of increased numbers, but of a deeper entanglement of displacement, protracted conflict, and economic exploitation. Syrian labourers had been seen as a pliable, low-cost workforce –– a convenient buffer for the Lebanese economy, a ‘reserve army of labour’, whose presence could increase or decrease according to broader financial outlook. When workers became de facto refugees, they shifted into a more permanent, albeit precarious, underclass. 

The longer that displaced populations remain in a host country, the more likely they are to become rooted. Lives are rebuilt in exile, families formed, and communities forged in new places. With each passing year, the notion of return becomes more distant, not least because of the economic devastation caused by war. Wages that had sufficed in the short term become untenable for those now forced to establish themselves in a new country. In Lebanon, Syrians now confront the reality of raising families, seeking education for their children, and, in essence, building a future in a place where they had never imagined staying. As Syrian workers become further entrenched in Lebanese society, labour disputes become more probable. Their demand for higher wages reflects not just a desire for immediate economic relief but an assertion of their right to build dignified lives. In this sense, the policies that have attempted to curb Syrian workers’ influence and mobility can be seen as last-ditch efforts to keep the long-term consequences of displacement at bay. Social discord plays, in this sense, a supporting role as a socio-cultural disciplinary mechanism.

Formal avenues through which Syrian workers might organise to demand better working conditions and wages are barred to them. Yet, other than in the work of the ILO, it is a curious feature of contemporary development programming that the historic and well-evidenced effect of trade unions in fostering pro-poor economic growth is largely ignored. Yet by organising workers, advocating for fair wages, and protecting labour rights, trade unions improve the living and working conditions of the poor, while contributing to broader socio-economic progress. Syrian workers in Lebanon are, unsurprisingly, effectively banned from forming or joining trade unions due to a combination of legal restrictions, the hostility of the political environment, and their precarious work or residency status. Nonetheless, if, as Robert Chambers put it, the objective of development is to produce exactly this manner of ‘good change’, then the absence of trade unions within international aid and development programming is a missed opportunity.   

Social cohesion interventions

Lebanon’s ongoing fiscal crisis has devastated the economy, eroded all workers’ purchasing power, and led to widespread unemployment. The situation is dire. Meanwhile, Syria’s prospects for recovery remain equally bleak. Syrian workers in Lebanon tend to come from the rural peripheries of places like Aleppo, Idlib, Hama, and Homs. These areas were hardest hit by the February 2023 earthquake, compounding challenges already posed by years of conflict. The combined effects have further eroded Syria’s productive capacities, inflicted severe damage on infrastructure, and disrupted key trade routes, making economic revitalisation even more difficult.

At the time of writing, the Israeli bombardment of Lebanon and the illegal invasion of the South threatens to make all matters even worse. The conflict has sparked an internal displacement crisis, further crippling an economy already on its knees. Israel has also bombed the main border crossing to Syria, meaning that even Syrians who may wish to return there face no guarantee of safety.  Clearly, this situation will only intensify the challenges faced by Syrian refugees and risk compounding social tensions.

As mentioned above, in various perception surveys the most often-cited reasons for antagonism towards Syrian workers and refugees are, firstly, perceived labour-market competition and, secondly, the visible support Syrians receive from humanitarian organisations, such as cash-assistance programs provided by the UN and NGOs. The latter perception was exacerbated during the financial crisis, when Lebanese lost access to their bank accounts but refugees were able to withdraw cash support from ATMs. Lebanese citizens report often feeling overlooked, themselves struggling with unemployment, inflation, and cuts to government subsidies. In some instances, mobs have roamed the streets and assaulted Syrian workers. In response, various NGOs and UN Agencies run campaigns to fight ‘discriminatory notions’ spread via ‘rumours’ and ‘misinformation’. 

Such ‘social cohesion’ initiatives are often said to be grounded in the so-called ‘Humanitarian-Development-Peacebuilding’ (HDP) nexus. This framework seeks to enhance collaboration between humanitarian aid, long-term development strategies, and peacebuilding efforts, and is typically presented as a more holistic response to crises like mass displacement. Of course, it remains to be seen if such programming will be equal to the task of preventing a further worsening of relations amid the complexities of the current crisis. 

A common cohesion intervention that seeks to address the impact of displacement takes the form of ‘dialogue sessions’ or ‘local conflict response mechanisms’ between host communities and refugees. These initiatives aim to foster a local-level sense of mutual understanding that can address rising tensions and identify common ground for cooperation. Conflict scans are conducted to assess local dynamics, and community leaders are brought in to mediate disputes and manage perceptions. In areas with stronger local governance, an approach which builds the capacity of municipalities to undertake mediation efforts has also been pursued.

Similarly, organisations have launched a variety of community-based campaigns aimed at promoting the social inclusion of Syrian refugees. These campaigns focus on dispelling stereotypes and tackling discriminatory attitudes, often using local media — videos, broadcasts, social media — to foster empathy and reduce perceptions that refugees are responsible for Lebanon’s economic woes. The root of this misconception is clear: Lebanese citizens, who are themselves struggling under the weight of economic collapse, find in the refugee a convenient scapegoat. 

Finally, a number of cash-for-work schemes have been launched in Lebanon, also attempting to foster unity.  These programmes, to their credit, do go some way beyond addressing discord as a purely psycho-social phenomenon, providing temporary employment opportunities for both groups while addressing immediate community needs. Such programmes typically involve public-works projects, like infrastructure repairs, waste management, environmental conservation efforts, and the like. All of which stand to benefit local communities while offering paid work to labourers. The rationale is threefold: provide refugees and low-income Lebanese with a livelihood, thereby alleviating some of the economic pressure they face, foster cooperation through shared tasks, and produce tangible improvements in local infrastructure, connecting that improvement to the presence of refugees. 

Discord by design 

The aforementioned initiatives are admirable in their intent, and they likely produce some short-term local reductions in hostility, but their limitations are also clear. No amount of dialogue, empathy-building, fake news fact-checking, or short-term employment will alter the fact that Syrian workers, though deeply embedded in Lebanon’s labour market, remain fundamentally excluded, their presence tolerated only as long as they remain exploitable. As Lebanon’s economy further unravels, the worry is that this underlying exploitation will deepen. The ongoing Israeli bombardment and mass displacement of Lebanese and Syrians living in the South will only ever exacerbate these existing dynamics.

 In such a context, the rhetoric of social cohesion risks becoming little more than a smokescreen. Indeed, social cohesion programming is, at best, based on the questionable assumption that interpersonal tensions and cultural differences are the primary obstacles to peaceful coexistence between displaced populations and host communities. They fail to address the root causes of the tension: inequality, exploitation, and inadequate labour rights, including the right to unionisation and collective bargaining. While promoting tolerance and mutual understanding is, of course, important, these programs cannot continue to ignore the political economy of displacement. 

Addressing root causes is urgent given that one of the primary resentments expressed regarding the Syrian population is that they are ‘competing for jobs’ with Lebanese. However, many of these jobs were not really designed as ‘Lebanese’ to begin with, when the wages offered were suppressed to the point that they could not support a full and meaningful life in Lebanon. In reality, it is the Lebanese state and the capitalist class who, by providing inadequate economic protections to manage the fiscal collapse, further pit Syrian refugees and Lebanese workers against each other, deepening divisions that social cohesion programs are unable to address.

At its worst, one could argue that social cohesion narratives, which invoke a need for harmony and stability within society, hide the reality of class conflict.  Indeed, achieving ‘cohesion’ is not a value-neutral technocratic exercise. Put simply: capitalist societies are inherently antagonistic, structured by an inherent oppositional relationship between the proletariat and the bourgeoisie. The language of social cohesion, in this sense, can even function as form of social control –– a means of managing dissent rather than addressing the structural forces that produce it. Indeed, in many cases, efforts to promote social cohesion are entangled with neoliberal ideology and objectives, like stabilising markets and maintaining economic production. Such efforts thereby re-frame an inherent fact of capitalist relations as an issue of ‘social breakdown’. 

At a minimum, we can say that if social cohesion is to be a meaningful goal in Lebanon, then it must be rethought. Rather than focusing on surface-level interactions, social cohesion initiatives must confront the deeper issues at play: the Lebanese state and capitalist class’s deliberate marginalisation of Syrian refugees and the exploitation of Syrian labour, which systematically pits them against Lebanese workers; and thus the broader economic inequalities that shape the lives of all those in living in Lebanon. 

Labour rights and refugees

Perhaps we can reframe social cohesion in more radical terms, moving beyond the notion of fostering ‘peaceful coexistence’ and toward the idea of promoting justice and equity.

For development actors, this would mean addressing the legal and economic status of Syrian refugees head-on, pushing for reforms that grant Syrians the right to work, to access the Lebanese social-protection system, and thus to live with dignity. This would mean challenging the broader neoliberal economic policies in Lebanon that have led to the exploitation of both Syrian and Lebanese workers alike. My proposition is that Lebanon’s trade unions are the best vehicle for this project. 

It will not be easy. In many (though not all) Global South contexts, trade unions often lack capacity, especially given that they have remained a long-neglected partner in development. With a few exceptions, Lebanese trade unions have faced declining influence over recent years, weakened by neoliberal policies and fragmented leadership. To play a role, many would need to directly counter populist and nationalist sentiments dentro dos their membership with a broader vision of solidarity. But whatever these challenges, we know that organised labour has often successfully confronted and pushed for reform against restrictive labour laws and is often best-placed to act as the crucial ‘civil society’ vehicle for pro-poor development. 

The tensions and artificial divides that exist between Syrian refugees and their Lebanese hosts have not been resolved, but continue to grow, year-on-year. Until social cohesion initiatives try to tackle the structural inequalities facing both groups, they will remain little more than (ineffective) band-aids over structural wounds. Meanwhile, both citizen and non-citizen workers face squeezed livelihoods. Trade unions could be critical in this process. By advocating for labour rights and social protections for all workers, trade unions can play a critical role in bringing Lebanese and Syrian workers together. It’s true that real legal and social barriers to this vision exist. But those barriers were placed there for a reason.