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In a particularly sensitive regional and domestic context, any assessment of the Lebanese Armed Forces (LAF) must go beyond a simple inventory of aid received and equipment required. The real issue lies in examining the political, doctrinal and strategic foundations of the military institution itself. The central question is not so much what the army possesses, but what the state expects – or refuses to take responsibility for – it to do. Since the late 2000s, the Lebanese army has benefited from sustained international assistance, notably from the United States, the United Kingdom, France and other European partners. This support has taken the form not only of equipment deliveries and new infrastructure, but above all, of the introduction of a structured capability-development approach. The establishment of a joint capability vision with the United States marked a turning point, prioritizing the optimization of existing assets rather than the creation of entirely new capabilities. This approach, which led to the creation of a Capability Development Plan, rests on a fundamental distinction. Brigadier General (retired) Maroun Hitti notes that a National Military Strategy defines what the army should be able to accomplish in fulfilment of a mandate set by the state, whereas a Capability Development Plan is concerned with enhancing the effectiveness of existing capabilities. This nuance helps to explain both the progress achieved and the enduring limitations – particularly in key structural areas such as the introduction of drones, artificial intelligence and, above all, air defense, which remains non-existent. A Deliberately Avoided Question: Support the Army – To What End? At the heart of the debate surrounding this plan lies a question that appears simple, yet is politically fraught: what, precisely, is the mission assigned to the Lebanese army? From its earliest days – but particularly over the past two decades – international assistance, chiefly from the United States, the United Kingdom and France, alongside many other friendly nations too numerous to list, has spared the military institution a series of potential setbacks. Yet this support has never been anchored in a genuinely articulated and unanimously endorsed Lebanese national security and defense policy. Officially, the mission statements – endlessly repeated – are well known: preserving stability, countering terrorism, controlling and defending the borders, and ensuring internal security. Unofficially, however, the ambiguity persists, due to the presence of a parallel armed force, Hezbollah, which continues to benefit from enduring domestic political protection. In this context, strengthening the army without clarifying its mandate amounts to reinforcing an institution while simultaneously neutralizing its capacity for action. More troubling still, attempts to subordinate the army to Hezbollah amount to stripping it of its soul and substance, calling into question its very purpose. How often have one heard vainglorious speeches, grandly labelled “strategic”, confining the army to a role of internal policing – against the opposition, of course – while leaving territorial defense to Hezbollah? Since the latter’s setback, a new mission has been assigned to the army: to ensure the state’s monopoly on the use of force – in other words, to disarm Hezbollah. It is above all the practical execution of this mission that the conference due to be held in Paris in March 2026 will need to address, anticipating the scenario the army would face should Hezbollah refuse to disarm. The role of the legislature appears central in this regard. The systematic postponement of debates on national defense, their entanglement in committee procedures, and the constant invocation of an elusive consensus reflect less inertia than a deliberate political choice. International assistance therefore risks turning into a delicate balancing act: supporting an institution perceived as credible while denying it the political cover indispensable to the full discharge of its mission. This is one of the pitfalls facing the army in the run-up to the forthcoming support conference in Paris. The Suspension of a Major Strategic Upgrade This political ambiguity has had tangible consequences. The Saudi initiative launched in 2013, involving a $3 billion grant, provided a solid foundation for genuine capability-building, including naval assets and an air-defense system covering the first two tiers – artillery guns and MANPADS, up to an altitude of 6 km – designed to counter drones. The Saudi assistance would have represented a significant qualitative leap in Lebanon’s strategic security. The protection of political, strategic and operational decision-making centers lay at the heart of this capability. One cannot help but shudder at the vulnerability of the state’s decision-making centers, at every level, in the face of the capabilities now enjoyed by the various belligerents operating on the Lebanese theatre, while the army remains unable to respond. The abrupt termination of the Saudi project, following Hassan Nasrallah’s angry political and media intervention, illustrated the fragility of any military planning considering the regional and domestic political power dynamics. It also left both the state and the army exposed to new types of threats – notably the use of drones – without appropriate means of protection. The Transformation of War and the Technological Challenge Recent conflicts have profoundly altered the nature of warfare. Intelligence, technological superiority and the integration of capabilities through artificial intelligence have become decisive factors. Recent conflicts in the region show that actors suffering from a structural technological deficit find themselves at a lasting disadvantage. This transformation has restored to war something of its capacity to surprise. In this context, the question is not merely how to contain non-state armed actors, but how to enable the Lebanese army to attain a technological and doctrinal level that would ensure operational credibility and the initiative. At the same time, one crucial factor must remain at the forefront: the time required to convert funding into actual capabilities. This “time factor” is measured in years. To disarm Hezbollah today would have required preparations to begin in 2015 – and never to rely on Israel, or any other country, to do the job. The question now, therefore, is what kind of army Lebanon wishes to have by 2035. Capabilities, Human Resources and Strategic Illusions Reducing the debate to a mere list of equipment would be a serious mistake. An army is built around coherent capabilities, underpinned by personnel, a clear doctrine, a functional chain of command, and sustained political support. Efforts in capability development have certainly helped to maintain and improve existing structures, but these remain largely outdated amid the rapid transformations of modern warfare. Effective border control, surveillance of the exclusive economic zone, or the permanent deployment of forces on the ground all require available personnel who are trained, properly remunerated, and supported over the long term. Any ambitious mission – such as disarming a heavily armed organization – demands resources and political will commensurate with the stakes. This also implies a clear budgetary commitment from the state, notably through the allocation of a defined share of gross domestic product to defense and security. Clearly Identified Strategic Missions In an environment dominated by Intelligence, five missions stand out as pivotal for the future of the LAF: the collection and analysis of information; the defense and control of borders; the capacity for domestic offensive operations with a consistent certainty of success; deterrence; and interoperability with allied armed forces. When executed effectively, these strategic missions underpin the credibility, effectiveness, and long-term sustainability of the military institution. Political Cover and State Responsibility At the heart of the problem lies political responsibility. The state too often expects the army to carry out missions for which no clear and accountable decisions have been made. A gradual and positive evolution is discernible, marked by a questioning of certain implicit political coverages, yet the question of the political and security cost of this evolution remains unresolved. An analysis of Hezbollah’s main power bases – its popular base, strategic depth, domestic political protection, financial resources, and strategic communications – shows that only a fully assumed state decision, backed by genuine governmental coherence and a concerted dialogue within the relevant community, can create the conditions for effective military action. Such action would be capable of achieving the intended outcome and asserting the supremacy of the state. From Equipment to Sustainable Operational Capability Possessing equipment does not, in itself, constitute capability. For example, maintaining a permanent maritime presence 365 days a year, in all conditions, requires a clear organization and subdivision of national maritime zones, naval assets, specialized and technologically proficient personnel, continuous training, sustained operational maintenance, and infrastructure that represents a significant annual cost. Defense is costly, but vital, and prioritization becomes indispensable: the focus must be on fully consolidating existing capabilities before acquiring new ones. The cost should not unduly alarm public finances; spreading it over several years would be feasible, provided that a law in enacted to allocate a defined percentage of GDP to this purpose. This brings us back to the essential role of the legislative authority. Military Effectiveness and Political Coherence An examination of the aid, capabilities, and challenges facing the Lebanese army reveals a single constant: military effectiveness is inseparable from political coherence. Without a clear mandate, without accountable political and financial cover, and without an explicit national defense and military strategy, investments in military equipment and personnel remain largely sterile. Within this context, and according to Brigadier General Maroun Hitti, the foundational work undertaken over the past two decades within the army’s General Staff deserves recognition. Its rigorous approach to capability development has helped preserve the professional and operational coherence of the institution under extremely constrained political and financial conditions. Yet time is working against these measures: warfare is evolving faster than the army can adapt, and international assistance must take this into account. Nonetheless, this tribute to the military institution does not absolve the state of its primary responsibility. It alone has the capacity not merely to transform these technical efforts into a genuine national defense strategy, but also to assume responsibility for providing the Lebanese Armed Forces with clear directives and well-defined strategic options for the near future.

What unfolded before us was not a three-act Greek tragedy, but a lived experience: raw, immediate, degrading, and unforgivable. In less than two weeks, we watched unfold on our screens, in turn, a ludicrous comedy, a surreal situation, and a human catastrophe. Three distinct episodes, yet all exposing, revealing, and condemning the daily evils that continue to gnaw at a drained and weakened Lebanon. The Dunces’ Fair “What could this man possibly have in common with the people, this portly, pretentious bourgeois upstart, frequenting swanky bars, and a man who actually works… And is it not the greatest misery of our time that it is such a man who speaks for the people, who speaks among the people, who speaks about the people?” These words, written by Charles Péguy in his essay L’Argent and addressed to his former mentor Jean Jaurès, apply perfectly to the vast majority of so-called representatives of the people, who seize any opportunity, under any pretext, to defend (?) the “interests” of their electorate. Yet telling the truth – whole truth, nothing but the truth, or even just part of it, however dull, painful, or hard to swallow – does not seem to be part of their creed. But is that really surprising? And should we expect anything better? For three days, we were treated to a performance utterly ludicrous, absurd, grotesque, even shameful – at times verging on a full-blown brawl. No, this was not a Feydeau-style comedy; it was the parliamentary debates over the 2026 budget. Characters spouted platitudes, lies, inaccuracies, and half-truths; others, either to appease the justifiable anger of protesters at the gates of Parliament or to win a few more votes in the next election, proposed without any prior study to raise the salaries of army retirees. And, of course, there were the moralists who seized the floor to declaim nonsense, and those who simply accepted a poorly crafted, unfair, and downright absurd budget, even when their government representatives opposed it. Go figure. All of this unfolded in a barnyard-like chaos, with hens squabbing and clucking while the rooster on his perch seemed utterly overwhelmed – so much so that he ordered the television broadcast cut immediately, either to spare the coop even further humiliation in the eyes of the world, or to slip unpopular decisions through under the radar. In short, it was a veritable cacophony, with everyone clamoring for attention, feigning outrage, gesticulating loudly, and protest vehemently, while the people suffer, bear the brunt, and remain largely silent. “When truth is costly, falsehood becomes effective,” as Plato once said of democracy. Our Parliament of Shame stands as a stark, undeniable proof. An Absurd Spectacle Should we have believed in Santa Claus when the chief of the army arrived in Washington? Or was the mission he was entrusted with doomed from the start, destined to flounder on the banks of the Potomac? Was it a matter of poor preparation, psychological misjudgment, or naïveté on his part – or was it simply a trap into which Heykal fell? Is the Army General Staff so thoroughly infiltrated by Hezbollah, and does any real will to finally stand up to the militia actually exist? There is no doubt that the commander-in-chief’s response to Senator Graham’s question will be subject to multiple interpretations and generate much commentary. Yet, regrettably, it may also pave the way for new problems and serious complications that our country can ill afford. We therefore have the right – if not the duty – to ask ourselves these questions, in light not only of the army’s urgent needs, the credibility and authority of the state, but above all the hope that every sincere Lebanese placed in the success of this mission, which I hope will not end in disappointment. “When someone desires health, one must first ask whether they are ready to remove the causes of their illness,” Hippocrates once said. When seeking the help of others, one cannot afford to be picky or try to outsmart them. A truth as plain as day. Was Graham, in fact, sending a clear message to the Lebanese state through its representative? It would, however, have been easy for the general to respond with tact and skill – several acceptable answers were possible – rather than reacting reflexively to the senator’s trap question, whose position on Israel is well known, a conviction he makes no effort to conceal. Even Darin Lahoud, a congressman of Lebanese origin with Lebanon close to his heart, had been very clear in his remarks regarding Hezbollah. And yet… disaster struck! It is obvious that we have once again missed a golden opportunity to wipe the slate clean, assert our genuine will to take our destiny into our own hands, and thus open a more promising new chapter. One can only hope that this surreal spectacle we have witnessed will not have harmful repercussions for all of us. The stakes are nothing less than the fate of a country where corruption and inequality reign, and a population that is impoverished, exhausted, despairing, and at the end of its tether. Skepticism, therefore, remains the order of the day – until further notice. The Tripoli Tragedy What kind of jungle are we living in? Admittedly, we ask ourselves this question every day, but what recently unfolded in Tripoli is not only a human catastrophe – it is above all the result of criminal negligence and rampant corruption at every level. A calamity of this magnitude would have cost many heads in a country that respects itself. Some of our ministers and senior officials should have resigned; others should have been thrown in prison. A sorrowful scene that reflects the country’s profound decay, systemic disintegration, and rampant injustice. Cioran once remarked, with caustic wit, that “what is unfortunate about public misfortunes is that anyone considers themselves competent enough to comment on them.” The city’s MPs are all too quick to take the spotlight, appear on the airwaves, puff out their chests, and accuse the state of negligence. But where were they when tragedy first struck the northern capital a few weeks ago? The same goes for the state itself. The Tripoli millionaires who could have contributed to rehabilitating at-risk buildings were also conspicuously absent. Despite red flags being raised and the looming threat of dozens of houses collapsing, no serious action was taken to address the problem. Nobody lifted a finger. And once again, the city was struck by tragedy on 8 February. Today, the death toll and the number of injured continue to rise, all victims of the irresponsibility and indifference of a sclerotic, rotten administration. At the risk of upsetting all Hezbollah die-hard supporters, it is not enough to appease the inhabitants of the South at the expense of the rest of the country. Certainly, this part of the country, ravaged by the armed militia’s irresponsibility, deserves the state’s attention – but not at the cost of other disaster-stricken regions that also urgently require funds, serious assistance, protection, and governmental care. Tripoli is just one example. Urgency is pressing at the doorstep, and the risks of popular unset, with unpredictable consequences, could soon take the authorities by surprise. Anger is brewing, and this city – long abandoned and deliberately left to its fate – has its voice. Mending the cracks or relying on stopgap measures will longer suffice. A state of emergency and a serious rescue plan to avert the worst are urgently required. Voltaire once considered that “politics is the means by which men and women without principles govern men and women without memory.” I cautiously subscribe to the first part of his observation, while remaining convinced that principled and well-intentioned individuals do exist among us. As for the rest of his insight, I am inclined to agree. Our current political situation provides a perfect illustration: to this day, we keep recycling the same people and starting over. Are we truly so subjugated – or so forgetful? Has the ceaseless desire of our local buffoons to toy with us not already revealed its limits? Isn’t their disastrous performance a matter of reflection? Are we, then, doomed to fall eternally from Scylla into Charybdis? Food for thought.

The use by the Israeli air force, on February 1, 2026, of a powerful herbicide, Glyphosate, over vast areas of Lebanese territory, has reignited the question of the deliberate damage inflicted on natural resources in times of war. February 1, 2026: the Israeli air force is observed spraying an apparently toxic substance over large swathes of southern Lebanese territory, in the region of Bint Jbeil. Three days after the incident, on February 4, following analyses conducted on samples collected by the Lebanese army and the United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL), the Ministries of Agriculture and Environment announced that the substance in question was Glyphosate, a powerful herbicide. The ministries’ statement reported that the product had been sprayed “at a very high concentration,” denouncing a “flagrant violation of Lebanese sovereignty” and an “ecological crime.” On the Israeli side, the I24 channel referred to an “experimental agricultural spraying along the northern borders with Lebanon and Syria,” acknowledging that the dissemination of these substances aims to “kill vegetation along the borders, out of concern that fighters might hide there.” Israeli aircraft have scarcely left Lebanese airspace since October 2023, when the conflict with Hezbollah began, despite the November 2024 ceasefire. During the months of open warfare between October 2023 and November 2024, Israel had already used toxic and incendiary materials to burn thousands of hectares in Lebanon, notably white phosphorus. The spraying of a powerful herbicide at high concentration over green areas, however, marked a new threshold in this type of violence. Following this episode, Lebanon is preparing a complaint for “environmental crime” before the United Nations, and this is not the first time. In 2006, during the July–August conflict, Israeli aircraft struck the fuel storage tanks of the Jiyeh power plant (south of Beirut), causing an oil spill that polluted the entire Lebanese coastline north of that locality and as far as Syria. No fewer than 15,000 tons of oil were discharged into the sea. The spill led to a complaint by the Lebanese government to the UN, resulting in a non-binding resolution of the General Assembly on December 20, 2014, adopted by 170 votes to 6, demanding that Israel pay more than 856 million dollars in compensation to Lebanon, which it has never done. The spraying of Glyphosate over southern Lebanon, scandalous as it may be, serves as a reminder that environmental crimes in wartime are unfortunately a common practice in conflicts, stretching back to Antiquity and running throughout human history. The following examples are drawn from a list that is far from exhaustive. In Antiquity and Throughout History Wars, from Antiquity through the Middle Ages to the modern era, have witnessed numerous instances of the destruction of agricultural lands, forests, and resources of all kinds, primarily with the aim of depriving the enemy of the means to resist. These methods included the destruction of irrigation canals, artificial flooding and the draining of watercourses and water points, the deliberate salinization of soils, scorched-earth policies, the burning of crops and the cutting down of fruit trees, the poisoning of water sources with corpses, toxic substances or poisonous plants, and the devastation of farmlands, leaving soils depleted for decades. Among the well-known cases is Sparta’s destruction of Attica, the historic region of Greece in the Aegean Sea, during the Peloponnesian War (431–404 BC), characterized in particular by the annihilation of crops, olive groves and farms, with the aim of starving the population into capitulation. As an example of deliberate flooding, one may cite the strategy used among Mesopotamian city-states (third to second millennium BC), when armies breached dams and diverted irrigation canals in order to inundate enemy fields or cities. This practice weakened agricultural economies in an effort to crush resistance entirely. Deliberate flooding was also used defensively, yet its environmental consequences were equally devastating. A case in point is the intentional opening of dikes by Dutch rebels during the Eighty Years’ War (1568–1648) to slow the Spanish army by creating impassable marshlands. While the rebels secured the survival of what was then known as the United Provinces, the effects on agriculture and the environment proved lasting. The “Well-Man,” Centuries Later Another weapon of war with devastating environmental consequences is water poisoning, a tactic common in the Middle Ages, both biological and psychological. Animal corpses and whatever toxic substances were available were used for this purpose. The method was frequently employed during sieges to force besieged towns to surrender. Among well-documented examples is the “Well-Man” episode at Sverresborg in Norway in 1197. During a raid, rival supporters allegedly threw a corpse into a fortress well to overcome the resistance of its defenders. Proof of the deed emerged centuries later, following an archaeological discovery in 1938, when the remains of this “well-man” were indeed uncovered at the site. Other cases of water poisoning were reported over the centuries, including in modern wars, such as when German forces poisoned wells in France during the First World War. In the Middle Ages as well, the destruction of fields and countryside was common, notably during feudal wars in Europe and during the Crusades. One of the most notorious examples of deliberate pollution in the twentieth century is the burning of Kuwaiti oil wells by Iraqi forces during the First Gulf War in 1991. These fires caused severe air pollution, contamination of soil and water, and massive oil spills. Iraq was condemned by the UN to pay reparations to Kuwait. Today, Ukraine accuses Russia of numerous war crimes since the beginning of the Russian invasion four years ago. The most notable example is the destruction of the Kakhovka dam in 2023, which triggered a devastating flood covering more than 20 square kilometers. Legal Status Between historical ecological war crimes and those of the contemporary era, particularly in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, differences abound despite certain similarities. Historically, the damage was more localized and regional, whereas today it can be planetary in scale, affecting shared ecosystems such as the oceans through oil spills, or global biodiversity. Globalization, the worldwide effects of climate change, and the modern military means available to belligerents are liable to amplify the consequences of such attacks, with global risks such as massive population displacement or major food crises. The scale and potential duration of these devastating environmental effects are not the only differences between historical wars and those of today. Awareness has evolved. These crimes now bear a name and legal status: ecocide. The term refers to the gravity, durability and extent of environmental damage resulting from destructive human activities, including the overexploitation of resources, industrial and chemical pollution, and especially war. The term was first used in 1970 by biologist Arthur Galston in reference to the United States’ use of powerful herbicides, notably Agent Orange, to destroy forests and crops during the Vietnam War (1961–1971), with long-lasting health and ecological consequences, including births of children with abnormalities still occurring forty years later. Effects on Climate Change Although the term ecocide already appears in the legislation of certain countries, it is not yet recognized as a specific jurisdiction of the International Criminal Court. The debate continues. Nevertheless, certain international decisions have already been adopted by the UN to compel belligerents to pay reparations to countries victim of devastating environmental attacks, as in the two aforementioned cases: Israel for the 2006 oil spill in Lebanon and Iraq for the Kuwaiti oil-well fires in 1991. Finally, the question of the effects of conflicts on climate change, notably through emissions resulting from the massive use of munitions and the consequences of forest destruction, which are vital carbon sinks, is increasingly raised in the context of annual UN climate summits. The example of the massive Israeli bombardments of Gaza for nearly two years, since October 7, 2023, has been mentioned in this regard. However, the impact of conflicts on climate change has not yet been fully integrated into the process of international negotiations aimed at combating climate change. The issue remains extremely sensitive in more ways than one.

The recent meeting held at the United States Embassy in Madrid, centered on the implementation of Security Council Resolution 2797 adopted last October 31 regarding the Moroccan Sahara, was no ordinary diplomatic encounter. Algeria’s presence, represented by its Foreign Minister Ahmed Attaf, was particularly significant, as it restored matters to their proper context: the dispute over the Sahara is, at its core, a Moroccan-Algerian conflict, while the Polisario Front serves merely as an instrument employed by the Algerian regime to justify a war of attrition waged against Morocco for nearly half a century, ever since Rabat recovered its Saharan provinces following Spain’s withdrawal in November 1975. Morocco was represented by Foreign Minister Nasser Bourita at the meeting, convened under the auspices of Massad Boulos, the U.S. Special Envoy for Africa. Also in attendance were Mauritania’s Foreign Minister Mohamed Salem Ould Merzoug, a representative of the Polisario, and the UN Secretary-General’s Personal Envoy, Staffan de Mistura. While Algeria has previously participated in discussions related to the Sahara, this was the first time it engaged in deliberations explicitly grounded in Resolution 2797, which identifies Morocco’s autonomy initiative as the sole proposal on the negotiating table. According to informed sources, Algeria attempted to reintroduce the notion of “self-determination,” overlooking the resolution’s explicit reference to autonomy “within the framework of Moroccan sovereignty.” It appears that Algeria, as a regime, would not have entered negotiations concerning autonomy absent American pressure. Those same pressures prompted Morocco to elaborate its autonomy vision in a forty-page document, whereas the original initiative announced by King Mohammed VI in Laayoune in 2007 spanned only three pages and rested upon two pillars: affirmation of Moroccan sovereignty and the establishment of broad decentralization. The political dimension of Algeria’s participation in Madrid is decisive. Algiers would not have attended had it not concluded that any improvement in relations with Washington required engagement in negotiations based on the Moroccan proposal. Persisting in its reservations regarding Resolution 2797 and continuing to rely on the Polisario would have jeopardized prospects for strengthening ties with the United States, particularly amid deteriorating relations with France and diverging strategic calculations with Russia over Mali. Furthermore, the United States’ recognition in 2020 of Moroccan sovereignty over the Sahara, subsequently echoed by several European countries, underscored the absence of any viable future for a project aimed at turning the territory into a satellite within Algeria’s sphere of influence. Stability in the Sahel is increasingly understood to be linked to Morocco’s authority over its Saharan provinces, rather than to the latitude afforded to the Polisario within a region plagued by extremist networks and illicit trafficking. Algeria’s participation in the Madrid meeting thus marks a step toward realism — and perhaps toward liberation from longstanding historical resentments. It is far from a modest gesture. The central question is whether Algeria is prepared to free itself from the illusions of the past, including the aspiration to access the Atlantic without Morocco’s explicit consent. The Moroccan Sahara enjoys a vast Atlantic coastline, and the deep-water port of Dakhla has become integral to African aspirations for maritime connectivity. Algeria has a genuine opportunity to secure a land corridor to the ocean through Moroccan territory. Such an outcome would require cooperation with Rabat rather than the continuation of diplomatic rupture, border closures since 1994, and restrictions on overflight. Ultimately, recognition of Moroccan sovereignty over the Sahara could pave the way for a strategic recalibration in Algiers, away from unproductive posturing and toward constructive engagement. When will Algeria formally acknowledge the Moroccan character of the Sahara, instead of seeing its foreign minister depart through a side exit to avoid being photographed alongside his Moroccan counterpart?

On the anniversary of Nassib Lahoud's passing, in a country accustomed to consuming its presidents even before putting them to the test, and lowering expectations before raising them, Nassib Lahoud's name remains outside this game of consumption. Not because he disappeared from political life, but because he was present in another way: the presence of an idea, not an agreement; the presence of a project, not a power-sharing arrangement. Thus, every time Lebanon goes through a new presidential crisis, Nassib Lahoud's name resurfaces as that of the “ideal president”; not as a romantic nostalgia, but as a moral and political benchmark, a symbol of what could have been. Nassib Lahoud was not the product of a fleeting moment, nor a candidate of circumstances. He was the product of a well-defined political school: the school of the State. A State of constitution and institutions, not a State of compromise, above or below the table. From his entry into politics, he presented himself as a visionary, not as a man of power. He did not aspire to the presidency as an end in itself, but as a tool for the reconstruction of the State. In a country where the presidency had become a consolation prize or an instrument of obstruction, Lahoud presented it as a sovereign function with clear constitutional guarantees. Nassib Lahoud distinguished himself by three qualities rare in the Lebanese political landscape. The first was clarity. He did not mince his words and did not hide behind vague formulas. On the issue of sovereignty, he was unequivocal: no state possessing weapons outside its control, and no true partnership with an usurped security apparatus. On reforms, he was direct: no economy without an independent judiciary, no social justice without a fair tax system, and no administration without accountability. This clarity made him “unsellable” in a political market that favors ambiguity, as it offers greater room for maneuver. His second quality was independence. Nassib Lahoud owed allegiance to no axis, was prisoner to no power, nor was he subservient to any foreign power. His independence was not a slogan, but a daily practice: it shone through in his positions, his discourse, and his alliances. His name was therefore not forged in the shadows, nor was it propelled by a regional decision. This was precisely both his strength and his weakness: his strength with the people, and his weakness in the face of a system that abhors those who are not accountable. The third characteristic is his political ethics. In a country where politics is practiced according to the logic of domination or blackmail, Lahoud proposed a different model: respect for the adversary, adherence to the Constitution, and the primacy of public interest over personal gain. He was not known for corruption, hidden maneuvers, or resorting to incendiary rhetoric. Because of this, in the eyes of many, he seemed too “idealistic.” But the real question is: did the problem lie in his idealism or in the decline of politics? When his name was seriously considered for the presidency at critical moments, the Lebanese system seemed to reject him outright. Not due to incompetence, but because he was more competent than a system based on mutual obstruction would allow. A president like Nassib Lahoud would have marked the beginning of true accountability, a redefinition of relations between the State and weapons, between the government and the judiciary, and between internal and external affairs. He would also have sounded the death knell for the grey area where an entire system thrives. Today, after the financial collapse, the disintegration of institutions, and the erosion of both national and international trust, Nassib Lahoud appears more relevant than ever in his political career. His ideas on the State, sovereignty, and reform have become evident to a large part of the Lebanese population, who have paid the price for ignoring them. Cruel irony: Lebanon needed this collapse to understand that the “ideal president” was not an intellectual luxury, but an existential necessity. Nassib Lahoud was neither a saint nor infallible. But he was a man of principles. And in politics, principles outweigh tactics. Thus, when we say that Nassib Lahoud remains the ideal president, we are referring not so much to his person as to the model he embodied: a president who does not compromise with the State, does not reduce it to a mere instrument, and does not exploit it. A president who restores meaning to the presidency, prestige to the State, and dignity to the citizen. As long as the system is not mature enough to elect a man like Nassib Lahoud, his name will remain an unrelenting mirror: every president is judged by his measure, and every compromise is laid bare by comparison. Perhaps it is in this lasting symbolic presence that his profound significance lies.

Paris, by Arthur Bassil Since the beginning of January, the Iranian diaspora in Europe has been mobilizing to stigmatize the Islamic Republic and the massacres perpetrated against the Iranian people. In Paris, this gathering is renewed every Sunday. Around 3 PM, Place de la Bastille, this Sunday, February 8, a sunny day in Paris. Approximately five thousand demonstrators are gathered around the Iranian flag adorned with the lion and sun to denounce the massacres perpetrated by the Islamic Republic. In addition to this strong symbol, demonstrators brandish images of the victims of these massacres. On January 8 and 9, 2026, exactly one month ago, the Khamenei regime committed the unthinkable: thousands of Iranians were killed in cold blood. Their crime? Having dared to demonstrate against the socio-economic crisis, but above all against the oppression that has plagued Iran for decades. This Sunday again, Iranians in France were not alone in the street shouting “close the mollahs’ terrorist embassy” or “Islamic Republic, we don’t want it, we don’t want it!” In the procession, French, American, Kabyle, and even Israeli flags could clearly be seen, “the only country in the world that is truly putting pressure for an attack against the mullahs’ regime,” emphasizes Mona Jafarian, co-founder of the collective Femme Azadi , who called for participation in this demonstration. The Franco-Iranian activist, under police protection, says she is disappointed by Donald Trump due to his willingness to negotiate with the Islamic Republic, but she believes that the conditions set by the United States “cannot be honored by Khamenei.” Ending nuclear weapons, ballistic armament, support for terrorist proxies in the region… All these factors would lead to the end of the Iranian regime. Mona Jafarian believes that in any case, these negotiations will lead to a deadlock and that the only solution lies in concrete aid that should be given to the Iranian people to get rid of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei.   Choose between the Iranian people and the mollahs Also present among the demonstrators, Saeed Amini, founder of the association Homa , banned from Iran since 2017 due to his political activities. He does not understand the inertia of European Union leaders who persist in not taking drastic measures against the Islamic Republic. He nevertheless welcomes the mobilization of European peoples and the world against the mollahs. “We expect good decisions from European states who must choose between the Iranian people and the mollahs’ regime,” he declares before calling on them to “side with the right side of History.” On many signs held by the demonstrators is the portrait of Reza Pahlavi. He enjoys very broad support among the demonstrators. Son of the Shah exiled in 1979, he presents himself as the alternative to the regime. For Yaël, a French citizen of Jewish faith present at the demonstration and founder of the Atlas collective (collective of Jews and Kabyles against Islamism), “democracy owes everything to the Middle East, which includes enlightened peoples, including the Kabyle, Israeli, Lebanese, and Iranian peoples.” She believes that Reza Pahlavi is supported by the Iranian people and that his political program is “hyper-democratic,” and therefore she supports him unreservedly. The demonstration ends around 7 PM, Place des Pyramides, at the foot of the statue of Joan of Arc. Samuel Davoud, an activist at the head of the procession, calls on demonstrators to join a large demonstration in support of the Iranian people scheduled for Saturday, February 14, on the sidelines of the Munich Security Conference.