As the conflict between Israel and Hezbollah continues, Lebanon’s mistreated domestic migrant workers are being disproportionately affected; Shelters are denying them access, employers are withholding wages, and bombs are forcing their displacement. Article seven of Lebanon’s labor law, which removes domestic workers from protections, is the culprit.

Kaluwa1, a Kenyan migrant who arrived in Lebanon in October 2023, hoped the job’s remittances would support her family, including the four-year-old son she left behind. Instead she found herself trapped: ‘She [her employer] was verbally abusing, saying a lot of things that caused me mental disturbances,’ Kaluwa says.



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ARTICLE SUMMARY

Lebanon’s 250,000-plus domestic migrant workers are being hit hardest by the ongoing war with Israel, as shelters turn them away, employers withhold wages, and bombing forces displacement. The piece traces this to Article Seven of Lebanon’s labour law, which exempts domestic workers from standard protections and props up the Kafala sponsorship system — leaving employers free to confiscate passports, restrict movement, and withhold wages with little oversight. Through Kaluwa, a Kenyan worker who fled an abusive employer, and testimony from Caritas and KAFA, the article shows how war has deepened this exploitation, while also highlighting how ethnicity shapes treatment and how workers organise to support each other.

Three months later, Kaluwa left, unwilling to suffer more abuse. But her employer had illegally seized her passport, so leaving made her undocumented. She found work with another family, then fled again after further abuse. She now lives in a shelter for trafficking victims, awaiting the papers that will let her return to Kenya.

Kafala: The Basics

To stay in Lebanon, Kaluwa and other foreigners must rely on a sponsorship system in which a person or organisation agrees to hire and become legally responsible for them. For domestic migrant workers, in addition to this requirement, employers must provide housing, food, clothing, and other necessities.

Lebanese households began hiring migrant domestic workers after the civil war, as lingering sectarian tensions discouraged them from hiring locally, and they increasingly looked overseas instead. Today, over 250,000 workers from across Africa and Asia work in Lebanese homes, yet Article Seven of Lebanese labour law exempts ‘domestic servants employed in private houses’ from the rights granted to all other workers — leaving this sponsorship system, known as Kafala, to facilitate mistreatment and abuse.

Power Dynamics Create Conflict

Domestic migrant workers are bound to their employers, since both live and work under the same roof — a power imbalance the United Nations likens to the dynamics of an abusive relationship, in which ‘the abuser exerts power and control over the victim.’

In Kafala, employers hold an iron grip over workers who live under their roof. Not all are abusive, but nearly all can control movement, hours and duties with minimal oversight, since Article Seven’s denial of minimum wage, overtime pay and social security leaves little recourse. Domestic migrant workers are restricted from leaving a job without their employer’s consent, and 94.3 per cent of employers illegally confiscate passports, making exit harder still.

Caritas, an organisation that works with domestic migrant workers and others who have fallen victim to human trafficking, expressed the dilemma facing domestic migrant workers living in an abusive situation: ‘Shall I be undocumented or illegal, or shall I continue and be abused?’

The Impact of the War

‘They were already in crisis with their living conditions and working conditions, and [are now] trapped again in an additional crisis’, Caritas told FairPlanet. ‘We have been witnessing the increase of mental health cases because of bombing and so on. They were afraid, so they were leaving the homes of employers to come to our shelter because they needed peace and safe spaces.’

Countrywide crises have historically had an outsized impact on domestic migrant workers in Lebanon. A 2021 report from the UN found that during periods of instability, more migrants report abusive conditions, pay cuts and reduced mobility. Caritas told FairPlanet that some employers, hit by revenue losses from the war, have cut wages.

Although both Lebanese nationals and migrants have been displaced from the south, KAFA told FairPlanet that some migrants have been denied access to government-run shelters despite the Lebanese government’s promise to admit them. Other domestic workers have been trapped beneath the bombing while employers sought help from NGOs and the government. Since the war between Hezbollah and Israel began on 7 October 2023, Caritas has documented ‘cases [of domestic migrant workers] trapped in homes in Nabatieh or Bint Jebel’, on the Israeli border. ‘We can’t tell them to go outside, with the bombs.’ UN agencies, the Red Cross and Caritas’s own emergency response unit have all deployed to rescue those trapped on the front lines.

The war is also adversely affecting Kaluwa’s attempt to return to Kenya. According to Caritas, when trying to secure papers for victims of Kafala to leave ‘before the war, it used to take, let’s say, two months. Now, it’s taking six months.’

Different ethnicity, different treatment

Adriana, a Filipino woman living in Achrafieh, Beirut, came to Lebanon three years ago to work as a maid on her aunt’s recommendation. She earns a good salary, says her host family treats her well, and enjoys hiking in Lebanon’s countryside in her time off.

That experience points to a wider pattern: migrants appear to be treated differently by ethnicity. Daryn Howland of SOAS University of London says some Lebanese see workers from poorer countries as ‘unworthy of the same rights as the Lebanese or Westerners’, describing ‘an ascending scale of human value based on nationality.’ Among domestic workers, Filipinos sit atop this hierarchy, gaining higher pay and, Adriana’s experience suggests, better treatment.

Although her experience is largely positive, Adriana told FairPlanet that some Lebanese treat domestic workers poorly, calling her and others names such as ‘sharmoota’ (bitch).

It is worth noting, though, that a study by KAFA found 65 per cent of domestic migrant workers in Lebanon report forced labour and servitude — meaning that even if Adriana has avoided mistreatment, she is among the minority.

‘They’re not just… passive victims’

Despite this unjust system, many migrants have found ways to support each other. KAFA told FairPlanet that community gatherings, sports and intra-community support groups help workers push back against Kafala’s constraints. Ethiopian domestic workers, for instance, created Mesewat, a grassroots organisation that advocates for workers’ rights and holds events for important holidays such as the Ethiopian New Year and Christmas.

Others have sought out psychosocial support. Kaluwa says the counselling she has received has helped ease some of her stress.

Why Does Kafala Still Exist?

Lebanon has tried, as recently as 2022, to pass laws governing the employment of domestic workers, but none have been adopted — leaving the door open to further trafficking.

Experts at KAFA believe that Kafala persists because of the advantages held by employers; ‘When someone is benefiting from a certain system, it’s not going to go away very easily.’

Attitudes are shifting, though. ‘The younger generation is more rights-oriented,’ KAFA says, and ‘the intensity of abuse… has not been as frequently recalled.’ Practices such as monitoring workers’ outside communication and physical abuse, KAFA says, are less common today than in the past.

Kafala’s effects are felt by employers too. Since domestic workers are forced to live with their employers, complications between the two sides — compounded by a lack of clear rules governing the practice — are more likely to escalate. As Caritas puts it, ‘Kafala is imprisoning both migrant workers and employers.’

Improving the system requires urgent action

Removing domestic workers’ exemption from Article Seven of Lebanon’s labour law is essential to protecting them, extending the same minimum wage and working-hour protections other workers already have. But Lebanon’s weak governance, combined with the ongoing war, makes short-term legal change unlikely.

Change is still possible at the social level, though. Elevating the voices of domestic workers can keep improving their treatment — something already under way, KAFA says, thanks to ‘years of advocacy and… awareness raising.’ Educating the public can push sponsors to treat workers better while increasing the stigma around those who abuse them.

Teaching sponsors about the rights of domestic workers also reduces abuse, according to the International Labour Organization: many are simply unfamiliar with the rules, including contract length and workers’ specific entitlements. Among sponsors who believe Kafala allows them to lock a worker inside the house, 56.3 per cent admit doing so; among those who know the law forbids it, that falls to 37.1 per cent — evidence that knowledge of the law measurably improves domestic workers’ lives.

The horrors of Kafala are easy to see, and the system looks set to remain in place for now. But as pressure builds on the government and social attitudes shift, hope for its end persists.