In Lebanon, a nation marked by its rich history and diverse culture, a hidden reality persists—one that involves the silent struggles of approximately 250,000 domestic workers, as confirmed by the United Nations. Behind the picturesque landscapes and vibrant cities, a significant portion of the workforce, comprised of migrant domestic workers (MDWs) hailing primarily from Sri Lanka, the Philippines, Indonesia, Ethiopia, Bangladesh, Nepal, and beyond face a harsh and often ignored truth: the denial of fundamental human rights and the prevalence of abuse at the hands of their employers. Inequities in Lebanon are exacerbated in part by a normative framework dominated by a sponsorship system known as kafala,. which, according to Human Rights Watch, puts them in danger of exploitation and abuse. The United Nation's confirmation of the extensive presence of domestic workers highlights the scale of this issue, shedding light on a workforce that often operates behind closed doors, shielded from the public eye. Attracted to Lebanon by the promise of job opportunities and hopes for an improved life, migrant workers discover themselves ensnared in a complex array of challenges that go beyond their designated responsibilities. Over the years, the Anti-Racism Movement (ARM), led by dedicated young Lebanese feminist activists, has avidly worked to confront and condemn the persistent problems encountered by MDWs in Lebanon. Despite these efforts, the convoluted landscape of domestic worker recruitment involves agencies forming alliances with counterparts in the workers' countries of origin or establishing local representations.
The harsh reality unfolds as domestic workers, seeking opportunities abroad, have their vulnerability exploited and are opened up to various forms of abuse—emotional, physical, and even sexual—perpetrated by both their employers and the recruitment agencies facilitating their journey. A comprehensive report (DREAMS FOR SALE) by KAFA (enough) delves into the intricate processes and practices surrounding the recruitment of MDWs from Nepal and Bangladesh, unravelling the multifaceted challenges they encounter from the recruitment phase, to their employment and living conditions in Lebanon. Since January 2007, a staggering 95 MDWs have lost their lives in Lebanon. Human Rights Watch has meticulously documented these cases, revealing a troubling pattern where 40 of these deaths are categorized as suicides according to the migrants' embassies, while 24 others resulted from workers falling from buildings, often in attempts to escape dire situations with their employers. In stark contrast, only 14 deaths were attributed to diseases or health-related issues. This highlights the urgency of addressing the precarious conditions faced by MDWs in Lebanon, a matter championed by Human Rights Watch in its advocacy for meaningful change.
“Makhdoumin”: A Chronicle of the Unseen Realities of Lebanon's Migrant Domestic Workers
In the prelude to the unprecedented challenges presented by COVID-19 and the terrible Beirut Port explosion in August 2020, Maher Abi Samra's documentary "Makhdoumin" acts as a time capsule, portraying Lebanon's societal landscape at a period when economic and political instability were becoming serious issues. Sadly, they still are. The documentary, which was released in 2016, depicts the plight of female migrants coming from Africa and Asia to "serve" a country populated with almost 6 million people and fraught with uncertainty. Maher Abi Samra, the documentary’s director, places his camera inside the offices of Zain’s agency, offering us a glimpse into the everyday workings of this establishment. The documentary takes us through a normal day at the agency, revealing the intricate work dynamics, the client calls, and the discussions held in the process of selecting a suitable "maid." In doing so, we are transported to a Lebanon marked by fragility and uncertainty, witnessing firsthand the challenges faced by both the agency and the migrant workers caught up in the system. However, in the aftermath of unprecedented global events, the years following COVID-19 have seen an escalation in the difficulties confronted by MDWs in Lebanon, resulting in significant social, economic, and health repercussions. While certain government ministers have made attempts to institute protective measures, the responses have often demonstrated discriminatory tendencies, with a disproportionate impact on live-in female MDWs. Addressing these pressing concerns, the International Labour Organization (ILO) has brought attention to the issues and advocated for comprehensive measures to safeguard the rights and well-being of all workers in Lebanon amid these challenging times.
In the cinematic realm of "Makhdoumin," Maher Abi Samra artfully exposes a deeply ingrained practice within Lebanese society, shedding light on the pervasive custom of having a live-in "maid" to assist with daily chores and housekeeping. This cultural phenomenon becomes a poignant narrative thread in the film, revealing a dynamic where these domestic helpers, predominantly female migrants, coexist within the households they “serve”. Despite residing under the same roof, these “maids” occupy a unique space – more like temporary guests than integral members of the family. Isolated in small rooms, they toil in silence, dedicating years of their lives to selflessly serve the needs of the household. "Makhdoumin" thus serves as a powerful exploration of the nuanced relationships that unfold within these domestic settings, highlighting the complexity and isolation experienced by these essential, yet often overlooked figures in Lebanese homes.
While the world outside grapples with economic and political uncertainties, Zain’s agency offices become a microcosm of exploitation and systemic injustice. In the shadowy corridors of the agency, Zein Al Amin and Amaal Barakat orchestrate a chilling business facilitating the provision of domestic workers to clients with disturbingly specific and inhumane demands. Zain's agency caters to requests that extend beyond the bounds of human decency. The clients' requisitions delve into discriminatory territory, seeking domestic workers based on particular nationalities, previous experiences in specific countries, or even a predetermined religious background. The unsettling nature of these requests not only depicts the dehumanization of domestic workers but also sheds light on the perpetuation of discriminatory practices within the system. Maher Abi Samra's lens captures the uncomfortable reality that, within the narrative of providing 'maids,' clients are not merely seeking assistance but are actively engaging in a process that reinforces stereotypes, biases, and an alarming disregard for the basic rights and dignity of those seeking employment. Within the confines of these stories, one client boasted about not physically harming their domestic helpers, seemingly oblivious to the twisted irony that not causing physical harm should be the baseline rather than a point of pride. The very fact that such narratives are presented as commendable affirms a deeply entrenched issue—a society where the humanity of these workers is often overshadowed by the mere absence of physical violence.
In the unmasking of exploitative practices entangled within Lebanon's kafala system, the cry for human rights becomes more than a mere call—it becomes a moral imperative. It resonates through the lens of films like "Makhdoumin," where the silent suffering of female migrant workers affirms the dire need for collective awakening. At the heart of this urgency lies a simple yet profound truth: the right to work should not come at the cost of one's dignity and autonomy. The kafala system, with its roots deeply embedded in the societal fabric, has created a paradigm where the pursuit of economic opportunities by migrant workers often leads to a loss of basic human rights. Female migrants, in particular, are trapped in a maze of exploitation, imprisoned within the limits of households where their toil goes unnoticed and their autonomy is progressively eroded. As we immerse ourselves in the stories of "Makhdoumin," the call for humanity grows louder. It is a plea to recognize the inherent dignity of every individual, irrespective of their nationality or economic standing. The right to work should not deprive people of their feeling of self-worth or consign them to the role of transitory visitors in the households they “serve”. The fundamental nature of these rights requires an acknowledgment that employment should empower rather than enslave; and uplift rather than degrade. The agency's handling of female migrants, which is frequently marred by misleading processes and expensive costs, runs counter to the values of fairness and justice.
"Makhdoumin" serves as a poignant reflection of the harsh realities we face—a world marked by economic instability and political turbulence, where shadows loom not only over the nation's landscape but also over the lives of its workers. It urges us to confront the uncomfortable truth that many individuals, in their pursuit of a better life, endure circumstances that challenge their very humanity. Recognizing this reality necessitates more than mere acknowledgment; it calls for a collective dedication to building a more compassionate society. As we witness the silent struggles depicted in "Makhdoumin," we should be motivated to contribute to a narrative where human rights are non-negotiable and the right to dignified work is universally recognized, not subject to bargaining.
*To further explore the realities of the domestic labor market in Lebanon and delve deeper into the stories shared in the documentary film 'Makhdoumin,' I encourage you to visit the documentary’s official website. This platform serves as an extension of the film, providing additional insights, resources, and a space for continued dialogue on the issues surrounding domestic work.
Majeda Mahasneh, from Jordan, is an MA student (expected graduation 2025) at the Center for Migration and Refugee Studies (CMRS) at the American University in Cairo (AUC). With expertise in gender-based violence (GBV). She enjoys the arts, reading, and podcasts.