From War to Statehood

The significance of the proposed framework agreement between Lebanon and Israel lies not merely in its aim of bringing a military confrontation to an end. More profoundly, it reflects a fundamental shift in the nature of postwar agreements. The document bears little resemblance to traditional ceasefire accords, nor does it confine itself to regulating lines of contact or withdrawal arrangements. Instead, it lays the foundations for a new model of conflict settlement, one in which state-building becomes an integral part of peace-building, and sovereignty assumes a renewed meaning, far more complex than the mere protection of borders.

Whereas the Camp David Accords, the Israel-Jordan Peace Treaty signed at Wadi Araba, as well as the Taif Agreement and the Dayton Agreement emerged in the aftermath of major wars to reorganize political relations between former belligerents, the present agreement goes one step further. It seeks to redefine the relationship between the Lebanese state itself and the instruments of force operating within its territory, while simultaneously reshaping the regional security environment, despite Hezbollah’s opposition and its determination to rely on its Iranian patron to shape the contours of the postwar order.

Equally striking is the fact that the document does not begin by asking why the war broke out. It poses a fundamentally different question: what form should the state take once the war is over? For that reason, it devotes far less attention to the well-known historical causes of the conflict than to the political order expected to emerge after the fighting ends. Rather than writing the epilogue of the war, it writes the prologue to a new political phase.

A deconstructive reading of the text reveals that its central concern is not the borders themselves, but the state’s monopoly over the use of force. Nearly all of its provisions revolve around restoring to the Lebanese state the exclusive authority to decide questions of war and peace, disarming armed groups operating outside official institutions, and placing national security under constitutional authority. In doing so, the agreement reflects a remarkable evolution in the very concept of sovereignty. Sovereignty is no longer confined to safeguarding borders or ending occupation; it also encompasses the state’s exclusive control over the use of force within its own territory. It thus assumes a dual dimension, extending both over the land itself and over the instruments of force exercised within it.

At the same time, the document reflects the negotiating skill of Ambassador Simon Karam and his diplomatic team. It does not reopen the question of the international border, nor does it treat that border as a matter open to renewed negotiation. Instead, it proceeds from the implicit premise that the border, apart from the well-known technical issues, rests on an established body of international legitimacy under international law deriving from the 1949 Lebanese-Israeli General Armistice Agreement, while taking into account the historical circumstances that gave rise to it, justified it, and conferred legitimacy upon it. In doing so, the Lebanese negotiators successfully separated the question of territorial sovereignty, regarded as a legally settled issue, from the security arrangements imposed by the circumstances of war. They prevented the outcome of the conflict from becoming a pretext for redefining Lebanon’s borders, whose role in international stability remains particularly significant, or for reopening discussion of any future final agreement. In that respect, this approach offers an international model for preserving international legal instruments as a whole, whose meaning continues to be determined within their broader historical framework, namely their regional and international geo-strategic environment.

The philosophy underpinning implementation is no less significant than the substance of the agreement itself. The document does not assume that peace will emerge simply through the act of signature. It implicitly recognizes that the consequences of war will continue to shape realities on the ground and that violations or incidents are likely to persist throughout the transitional period. It therefore embraces a gradual approach, whereby each withdrawal is matched by a corresponding step, and every advance on the ground is accompanied by mechanisms of verification and international supervision. Gradualism thus becomes more than a technical procedure. It embodies a political philosophy acknowledging that the transition from war to peace is an incremental process rather than an instantaneous event. The objective is less to proclaim the end of the war than to manage the transition toward peace.

The agreement’s modernity is also reflected in its negotiating architecture. Diplomatic history has generally been shaped by agreements concluded within a single negotiating framework bringing together the parties directly concerned. Here, however, the agreement appears to form part of a much broader regional architecture, in which the Lebanese-Israeli track unfolds alongside other negotiating processes affecting the wider strategic environment of the conflict. If political indicators point to parallel understandings between Washington and Tehran on broader regional issues, the success of the Lebanese agreement depends not only on the political will of Beirut and Tel Aviv, but also on the durability of the balances generated by those wider regional understandings. The world is thus moving from the logic of the “single agreement” to that of “simultaneous settlements”, in which each negotiating track becomes one element within a broader network of understandings. Even so, President Joseph Aoun has stressed: “We welcome any assistance provided by states to help end the war. But there is a difference between helping us and interfering in our internal affairs. We conduct our own negotiations and will not accept anyone negotiating on our behalf.”

The document also redefines the purpose of reconstruction. It is no longer presented merely as a humanitarian response to the devastation of war. Instead, reconstruction becomes part of a broader political and security equation, linking international assistance to verifiable progress in extending state authority and consolidating the state’s monopoly over arms. Economic aid thereby becomes an instrument for entrenching stability rather than simply a means of repairing physical destruction.

The agreement’s deepest significance, however, extends beyond its security provisions to raise a broader question about the future of Lebanon’s political system itself. By calling for the state’s exclusive control over the use of force, the document implicitly opens the way for constitutional institutions to exercise exclusive authority over national decision-making. Issues of such fundamental importance can achieve lasting stability only by moving from the realm of the street and shifting balances of power into the framework of constitutional institutions.

Accordingly, any opposition to the agreement, whatever its political or sovereignty-related justifications, should find its proper place within Parliament as the constitutional institution that embodies the national will and holds legislative and oversight authority. Opposition is not the antithesis of the state. It becomes a danger only when it abandons institutional politics in favor of competing power centers on the ground. If the agreement seeks to bring an end to the existence of illegal armed groups operating outside state authority, it simultaneously tests the capacity of the Lebanese people to consolidate the unity of political decision-making within their legitimate institutions.

Ultimately, this document cannot be read merely as a security agreement between two states. It represents an attempt to redefine the very concept of sovereignty, the mechanisms of peace-building, and the nature of the state in the postwar era. It shifts the debate from borders to institutions, from conflict management to state reconstruction, and from peace understood as a ceasefire to peace conceived as a gradual political process.

The success of this project ultimately depends on a factor that transcends the agreement itself: the ability of the Lebanese to move their disagreements from the streets into democratic competition within Parliament. Only then will the state’s monopoly over the use of force be matched by its monopoly over political decision-making, allowing the end of the war to become the true beginning of statehood rather than merely another truce in Lebanon’s long history of conflict. Only then can the end of war truly mark the birth of the state. If, however, the Lebanese choose to derail this process outside the framework of their institutions, they will not simply have brought down an agreement. They may well have squandered the last historic opportunity to rebuild their state, as though political suicide were once again prevailing over the instinct for survival.