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Over the course of three decades, Hamas evolved from the Palestinian branch of the Muslim Brotherhood into an armed resistance movement at the end of 1987, before becoming the governing authority in the Gaza Strip following its takeover from the Palestinian Authority in 2007. From that point onward, Hamas ceased to be merely another Palestinian faction. It is true that the movement had come to power through democratic and peaceful elections, with Ismail Haniyeh serving as Prime Minister of the Palestinian National Authority. Yet the bloody takeover, which claimed the lives of more than 120 members of the security forces and Fatah, as well as 39 civilians during five days of fierce attacks on Palestinian Authority institutions and the arrest of dozens of their personnel, according to reports by the International Committee of the Red Cross, fundamentally altered the political landscape. Several leaders, including Mohammed Dahlan, fled by sea to Egypt. Around 50,000 government employees stopped reporting to work, while the Palestinian National Authority’s jurisdiction became effectively confined to the West Bank. Following its overthrow of the Palestinian Authority’s legitimacy, Hamas was no longer simply a political faction or a democratic partner in government. It chose instead to separate the Gaza Strip from the West Bank and exercise exclusive control there, while making the downfall of the Ramallah leadership and the rejection of the Oslo Accords central pillars of its political agenda. Hamas under Ismail Haniyeh During the first decade of Ismail Haniyeh’s leadership, up to 2017, the movement underwent profound transformations in its relationship with Palestinian society, its political leadership and the various factions of the national movement. Its ties with the Arab world, the broader Muslim world and the international community also evolved significantly. At the same time, its military wing, the Izz al-Din al-Qassam Brigades, experienced a qualitative leap in both military capabilities and weaponry, reaching its peak under the command of Yahya Sinwar. These developments reshaped Hamas’ internal balance of power. With its center of gravity firmly established in the Gaza Strip and its popular influence expanding across the West Bank, the movement also benefited from a broad wave of support throughout the Arab and Muslim worlds, fostered by the international leadership of the Muslim Brotherhood, which, according to the author, took advantage of its favorable relationship with the US administration during Barack Obama’s presidency. These internal realignments ultimately led to the sidelining of Khaled Meshaal, who had headed the Political Bureau for thirteen years. After moving its permanent headquarters from Amman to Istanbul and later to Doha, Ismail Haniyeh combined the leadership of the Gaza government with the presidency of Hamas’ Political Bureau. Yet despite his management of both the movement’s internal and external balances, Ismail Haniyeh likely never imagined that the day would come when he would be forced to leave the Gaza Strip and live in exile, as Yahya Sinwar, the new commander of the al-Qassam Brigades, consolidated his authority. Sinwar eventually came to dominate not only Hamas’ military apparatus but also the movement’s political and governmental institutions. Thus, the chairman of Hamas’ Political Bureau joined his predecessor, Khaled Meshaal, in exile, while formally retaining both his title and his position as head of the Hamas government. The circumstances surrounding the departure of Haniyeh and many other senior leaders and founding cadres remain unclear, however, and are unlikely to be fully understood until the movement itself chooses to disclose its own account. Nor were Hamas’ internal rivalries limited to the geographical divide between Gaza, the West Bank and the diaspora. They also reflected competing political and ideological currents: those loyal to the international leadership of the Muslim Brotherhood; political leaders whose regional relationships revolved around Türkiye, Qatar and Iran; and military commanders of a more pragmatic disposition, some more radical than others. While one camp sought to maximize the benefits of its alliance with Iran, another preferred to cultivate a broader network of regional relationships in order to widen its room for maneuver and consolidate its influence, without ruling out contacts with either the United States or Israel whenever circumstances required. It was within this environment that Khalil al-Hayya emerged as Hamas’ leading figure in the Gaza Strip and as one of Yahya Sinwar’s closest associates. According to numerous individuals familiar with Sinwar’s military career, he was known for placing his trust in only a very small circle of people. Those same sources argue that Khalil al-Hayya’s central role in negotiations stemmed precisely from the confidence Sinwar placed in him. When Sinwar assumed the leadership of Hamas’ Political Bureau, one week after Ismail Haniyeh’s death at the end of July 2024, he appointed al-Hayya as his deputy. Sinwar’s assassination only two months after taking office as chairman of the Political Bureau immediately reopened the succession battle. Backed by Hamas’ leadership inside Gaza, Khalil al-Hayya ultimately defeated Khaled Meshaal and became the movement’s fifth Political Bureau chief, placing its principal levers of power under his control. His rise to the top of the organization, however, cannot be explained by succession alone. Political and media sources, including several Egyptian analysts speaking on regional television networks, have claimed that negotiations held in Doha following Israel’s widely reported strike in Qatar targeting Hamas leaders were attended by senior security representatives from Israel, the United States and Türkiye. According to those accounts, the talks resulted in Israeli commitments to halt the targeted killings of Hamas leaders and to end efforts to pursue them. Supporters of this interpretation argue that subsequent developments appear to lend credibility to that assessment. Viewed through this lens, Khalil al-Hayya’s Hamas would no longer resemble either the Hamas of Sheikh Ahmed Yassin or that of Yahya Sinwar. Instead, its new leadership would be focused on implementing political and security understandings under primarily Qatari and Turkish sponsorship. According to this analysis, the movement’s future role would therefore differ fundamentally from its previous one. Preserving its hold on power, whatever the political, human or material cost, would become its overriding objective. The survival of its authority would take precedence over the welfare of the population. Al-Hayya’s Program At the beginning of this week, the movement’s new leader delivered his first public address, outlining what he described as his principal objectives: First, to bring Israeli military operations to an end and secure Israel’s full withdrawal from the Gaza Strip. Second, to restore the basic conditions for life, prevent the forced displacement of the population, launch reconstruction efforts, and conclude a prisoner exchange agreement involving Palestinian detainees. Third, to initiate a national dialogue aimed at rebuilding the Palestine Liberation Organization on democratic foundations. Fourth, to strengthen Hamas’ relations with its Arab and Muslim environment. Fifth, to coordinate international efforts to bring Israel’s military campaign to an end. Sixth, to call upon the United Nations to provide protection for the Palestinian people and hold Israeli wartime leaders accountable before international courts. Through an agenda whose implementation would require the backing of the world’s major powers and a broad international coalition, Khalil al-Hayya speaks with confidence and from what he portrays as a position of strength. Yet he does so from the comfort of a hotel room. Meanwhile, on the ground, the military confrontation between Hamas and Israel has become inseparable from the areas sheltering displaced civilians, where vast numbers of people are crowded into makeshift encampments. The population is thus made to bear the consequences twice over: first through Hamas’ own security apparatus, tasked with controlling nearly two million displaced Palestinians within their own homeland; and second through Israel’s pursuit of Hamas operatives, with the resulting airstrikes, destruction, territorial expansion, and the restrictions that, according to the author, are then invoked to justify limiting the delivery of water, food and medicine. Between this harsh reality and the movement’s declared political program, misery, despair and frustration continue to accumulate. Social media platforms across the Gaza Strip echo with cries of distress that Hamas’ leadership appears unwilling to hear, focusing instead on the future of its rule and the preservation of its own interests. Three Options Israeli Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich has repeatedly argued that Palestinians face only three possible choices: emigration, death, or submission. According to the author, this vision is shared by a government committed to expanding Israeli settlements throughout the Palestinian territories. The repeated incursions into the Al-Aqsa Mosque compound, together with the wave of violence carried out by settlers under the protection of the Israeli army, should therefore not be understood as a response to any existential threat. Rather, they form part of the implementation of what several ministers in the governing coalition have described as a “Decisive Plan,” aimed at extending Israeli settlement activity and annexing every part of the Palestinian territories that can be brought under the control of the settlers and the Israeli military. With parliamentary elections scheduled for October of this year approaching, several members of the government have also made no secret of their desire to bring about the collapse of the Palestinian National Authority in Ramallah and eliminate what they regard as the last Palestinian institutional framework still committed to a political settlement based on the two-state solution. The leading figures of Israel’s most hardline religious nationalist camp openly argue that such a solution constitutes, in their view, the true existential threat facing the State of Israel. The current wave of violence sweeping across the West Bank and targeting the Palestinian people, the indigenous inhabitants of the land, risks extinguishing the last remaining prospects for a peace founded on international law. So long as the international community confines itself to speaking about peace without creating the conditions necessary to achieve it in Palestine, the result, according to the author, can only be the perpetuation of an open-ended conflict.

This series of articles aims to provide a clearer understanding of the current situation on the Lebanese political scene in light of the past, free from passionate, ideological, or romanticized narratives that miss the underlying realities, leaving readers to draw their own conclusions. The previous twelve installments offered a reexamination of the events surrounding Hezbollah's rise to power, from the Taif Agreement through the deeply flawed implementation of UN Security Council Resolution 1701 in 2006. Two years before the 33-day war of 2006, and more specifically on September 3, 2004, under direct pressure from Bashar al-Assad's Syria, the Lebanese Parliament extended President Émile Lahoud's term by three years. This constitutional amendment was pushed through in blatant disregard of UN Security Council Resolution 1559, adopted the day before at the initiative of France and the United States. That resolution had explicitly called for strict adherence to Lebanon's constitutional rules and for a free, fair presidential election free from foreign interference. Furthermore, the same resolution demanded the disbanding of illegal militias—including Hezbollah—and the withdrawal of Syrian forces from Lebanon. In an attempt to project a semblance of popular legitimacy in the face of international condemnation, Émile Lahoud turned the Baabda Palace into a stage for displays of allegiance. Pro-Syrian delegations, government officials, military personnel, officers of all ranks, civilian supporters, and Hezbollah partisans paraded through to orchestrate effusive congratulations, manufacturing the appearance of broad national consensus around his forced extension—while in reality he was internationally, regionally, and domestically isolated, save for pro-Syrian factions, Hezbollah, and the Amal movement. Having opposed the presidential term extension under direct threats from Bashar al-Assad, Prime Minister Rafic Hariri resigned in October 2004 and subsequently aligned himself with the anti-Syrian opposition. The Assassination of Rafic Hariri and the Cedar Revolution This political shift was identified by the UN—and later by the Special Tribunal for Lebanon—as the primary motive behind his assassination, along with his companions and security escort, on February 14, 2005. This crime directly triggered the Cedar Revolution and ultimately forced the withdrawal of Syrian troops from Lebanon. The February 14, 2005 assassination was followed by three weeks of massive mobilization on the streets of Beirut, with crowds loudly demanding an end to Syria's occupation of Lebanon and holding up photographs of senior officers who ran Lebanon's security apparatus—including Generals Jamil Sayed, Raymond Azar, and Ali Hajj—accusing them of complicity in Hariri's murder and denouncing them as symbols of the Lebanese-Syrian security apparatus. Deepening Ties Between Lahoud and Nasrallah To prop up and shield an increasingly isolated Lahoud—who served as a critical legal cover for Hezbollah—Hassan Nasrallah responded by mobilizing his supporters on March 8, 2005, effectively sealing a pact of mutual survival: protecting the president was declared a red line, and any attempt to remove him was met with explicit warnings of retaliation. Lahoud's political survival was ultimately secured when Maronite Patriarch Nasrallah Sfeir refused to countenance his removal through street pressure, unwilling to set such a precedent in Lebanon's contemporary history. His position was accepted, albeit reluctantly, by the sovereigntist coalition of the time, which was mindful of maintaining the country's sectarian balance. The sovereigntists mobilized their own supporters a week later in direct response to the March 8 demonstration. Thus, on March 14, 2005, Beirut witnessed a historic rally of hundreds of thousands of supporters from the late Rafic Hariri's Future Movement (FM), the Lebanese Forces (LF), the Kataeb, the National Liberal Party (NLP), the Free Patriotic Movement's Aounists (FPM, still anti-Syrian at the time), the Progressive Socialist Party (PSP), Shia liberals, leftists… all demanding the withdrawal of Syrian troops, the dismantling of the Lebanese-Syrian security apparatus, and the implementation of UN Security Council Resolution 1559. Following this rally, the 'March 14, 2005 Forces' coalition was formed, with prominent figures including Samir Frangié, Gebrane Tueni, Samir Kassir, Nayla Moawad, former President Amine Gemayel, and others. This further strengthened the ties between Lahoud, who was running out of options, and Nasrallah. A pro-militia culture at odds with the rule of law From the time he served as commander-in-chief of the Lebanese Army, Emile Lahoud gradually fostered—through his attitudes and directives—a 'culture' of acceptance toward the Syrian occupation, and a 'culture' of sympathy toward Hezbollah, which he portrayed as a national liberation movement against Israel. This approach was reflected in Lahoud's speeches and memoranda, which deliberately overlooked the fundamentalist ideology of the pro-Iranian party—an ideology at odds with the very foundations of the Lebanon established in 1920. Later, as President of the Republic, Lahoud continued to promote this image of Hezbollah at the national level, not only within the Shia communities that supported him, but also among Christian, Druze, and Sunni circles. This propaganda was facilitated and amplified by leaders with outsized ambitions, such as Free Patriotic Movement leader Michel Aoun, ten months after his return from exile in France, as well as a host of politicians from various Lebanese communities—including Democratic Party leader Talal Arslan and certain dissidents from sovereigntist parties who had been approached by the security services of the time. Pro-militia sympathies also made inroads within state institutions. Officials began endorsing the logic of 'resistance,' justifying illegal practices, and a gradual erosion of the rule of law took hold. This replacement of the sovereigntist culture—the cornerstone of a strong state—with one of submission to a militia driven by a sectarian religious ideology seeped, under the banner of 'resistance,' into Lebanon's military, security, administrative, and judicial institutions. Lebanon continues to suffer from this to this day, so deep-rooted is this cultural erosion. Throughout all these years, a large number of Lebanese politicians were comfortable submitting to the Syrian occupation, and remain equally comfortable under Hezbollah's hegemony. These politicians made no effort to uphold national dignity, and for decades preferred to focus on their narrow day-to-day interests, blending business, public affairs, and populism. Army deployment in the South, incidents with Hezbollah Despite the compromise between legality and Hezbollah's arsenal, incidents were reported as early as September 2006 during the Lebanese Army's deployment in the South, following the Israeli withdrawal that began on August 17. These incidents were notably illustrated, for example, by the army's interception of ammunition trucks traveling from Syria to the Bekaa, and from the Bekaa toward the South. The Lebanese soldiers behind these interceptions, proud of their role and driven by a sense of duty, found themselves frustrated by political decisions that forced them either to return the confiscated ammunition or to immediately release the stopped vehicles and the militiamen accompanying them. Another example hampering the restoration of state sovereignty: the demarcation of zones — often wooded and fortified — that were off-limits to Lebanese legal forces (the army and the ISF) on the orders of President Emile Lahoud. These zones were held exclusively by Hezbollah fighters. Citizens who tried to approach them were turned away by the militiamen, either on the pretext that they were 'nature reserves,' or explicitly because they were militia-controlled areas that had become de facto exclusion zones within the army's deployment area in the South. Read more on the same topic: Hezbollah-Israel, an endless war in whose interest? (12) Hezbollah-Israel, an endless war in whose interest? 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The past week came to a close on Sunday with two undeniably significant developments. The first was Prime Minister Nawaf Salam's visit to Baghdad, where he held talks with Iraqi leaders focused primarily on economic matters. Accompanied by Energy Minister Joe Saddi, the prime minister discussed with his Iraqi counterpart the possibility of including the Tripoli refinery in the reactivation of the oil pipeline linking Iraq to Syria, with a view to exporting Iraqi oil. An agreement to that effect was signed between Syria and Iraq just days ago, and the Lebanese government is seeking to revive the Tripoli refinery's role in this context. The second development has a macro-political and supranational dimension: an exchange of messages between Hezbollah and the elusive and mysterious Iranian Supreme Guide Moujtaba Khamenei. The document reveals that Hezbollah reaffirms its allegiance to the Iranian Supreme Guide, emphasizing that the current conflict in the region is 'a continuation of the Battle of Karbala.' Reaffirming its determination to pursue 'armed resistance,' Hezbollah stresses its 'full solidarity with Iran and the Islamic Revolutionary Guards,' adding that the party 'remains under the leadership of Sheikh Naim Qassem' and stays 'loyal to the leadership of Moujtaba Khamenei.' In the wake of Hezbollah's renewed pledge of allegiance, a message attributed to Moujtaba Khamenei and addressed to the pro-Iranian party states that 'perseverance on the path of resistance will bring the divine victory promised to the mujahideen who walk the path of truth.' A lull on the American-Iranian front On the military operations front, the American-Iranian front has been experiencing a fragile lull since Friday evening. After 13 consecutive days of American bombardments on Iranian soil and Iranian retaliatory strikes on neighboring Gulf countries, Friday and Saturday nights were calm, even as the Yemeni front flares up and southern Lebanon remains, for now, far from the brink of escalation. The American war against Iran has just taken a new turn toward an uncertain future. After roughly 13 days of palpable escalation, marked by massive American bombardments on Iranian territory and continuous Iranian retaliatory strikes on neighboring Gulf countries and Jordan, the military tension suddenly subsided on Friday. Iranians have now experienced their second calm night, as could be observed Sunday morning. According to American media outlets, this lull stems from an order issued by President Donald Trump on Friday. The Iranians have also halted their strikes against neighboring countries. This development has raised several questions in the media. Is this lull temporary or here to stay? What might it lead to — new negotiations, or an escalation of the conflict, with ground combat, for example? And what truly motivated Trump's decision? That last question is crucial. According to numerous American media outlets, including the New York Times and CNN , the American government fears the depletion of its stockpile of interceptor missiles used to protect Gulf countries. It also reportedly fears a broader conflict spreading across the Middle East. Trump, for his part, continues to send mixed signals. While insisting he is considering even more significant strikes on Iran, he nonetheless assured that he is 'talking to them right now,' suggesting they are 'getting more and more serious' for 'an obvious reason' — an apparent reference to the devastating blows dealt by the American air force. This sudden lull stands in stark contrast to Israeli behavior in recent days. Kept out of the latest strikes against Iran — despite being the preferred partner (if not the instigator) at the start of this war against Iran in late February — Israel took extreme precautionary measures this week, asking its population to be ready to take shelter at any moment. Several airlines suspended their flights to Tel Aviv in recent days. According to some reports, Israel had expressed readiness to carry out targeted strikes on Iranian soil, but was held back from doing so by President Trump. Yet on Sunday morning, the Israeli government approved extending the state of emergency until August 11. In any case, one key appointment to watch next week is the planned meeting between Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and the American president in Washington on Tuesday. Netanyahu had struggled to secure this meeting, a sign that tensions between the two men over the war in Iran remain. Will the Israeli PM manage to influence his American partner's decisions, given that both men must contend with crucial domestic electoral deadlines in the coming months? For President Trump, the midterm elections could prove difficult, as rising oil prices and inflation linked to the war in Iran have seriously dented his approval ratings. As for Netanyahu, he is once again gambling with his political future. That said, these disagreements and calculations do little to alter the strategic relationship between the two countries. One development this week reinforced that point: on Thursday, the U.S. Secretary of Energy announced an upcoming agreement with Saudi Arabia to develop a civilian nuclear program, drawing worried reactions from Democratic lawmakers and Israeli parties, who said they feared a new nuclear arms race in the Middle East. Later that same day, President Trump posted a message on his social media platform Truth Social , with a surprising message: he insisted that this deal with the Saudis could only move forward if Saudi Arabia recognized Israel and signed the Abraham Accords, already ratified by several Gulf states. Satisfaction on the Israeli side, with Netanyahu calling it "a historic step forward." On the Saudi side, silence. A troubled first deployment of the army in South Lebanon On the ground, it is clear that while Iran observed an implicit truce with the United States by holding back its missiles and drones for two days, the Yemeni front — on the side of the pro-Iranian Houthi rebels — continues to flare up. The Houthi rebels proved threatening throughout the week, directing missiles toward Saudi Arabia for the first time since 2022, and disrupting the passage of ships through the Red Sea. They targeted two Saudi oil tankers during the week (only one, according to Saudi authorities). In response, the pro-Saudi legitimate Yemeni government launched attacks against rebel-controlled areas. This Yemeni front, activated by Iran, appears for now to be overshadowing the South Lebanon front. Hezbollah continues not to respond to Israel's ongoing operations in occupied areas and even beyond. While they claim to be respecting the ceasefire — specifically the one brokered by the Iranians as part of the Islamabad process, rather than the one secured by the Lebanese authorities in the framework agreement signed directly with the Israelis in Washington — the pro-Iranian militia's leadership is mindful of their fighters' exhaustion, but also, and above all, of the war-weariness among their supporters, a large portion of whom remain displaced. Also in South Lebanon, a pivotal development took place on Tuesday in connection with the Lebanese-Israeli framework agreement: the deployment of the Lebanese army in a village on the edge of the occupied zone, Zawtar el-Gharbiya. The Lebanese army's entry into the village did not go smoothly: the Israeli army fired toward Lebanese soldiers—without causing casualties—claiming that the Lebanese vehicles had moved outside the designated area. The Lebanese army flatly denied these allegations. Aoun in Washington Nevertheless, the Lebanese authorities, regularly criticized by the Iranian axis, continue to pursue the path toward lasting peace. This is evidenced by Prime Minister Nawaf Salam's visit on Wednesday to Zawtar el-Gharbiya, where he planted a Lebanese flag in the village and delivered a reassuring message to the people of the south, affirming the state's commitment to stand by them. The visit by army commander-in-chief Rodolphe Haykal the following day reinforced that impression. This message is more critical than ever for people living in the devastated areas. The first reactions from Zawtar residents upon seeing the destruction—after being allowed to return and inspect their properties following the army's deployment—have been heartbreaking. However, the key event of the week in terms of restoring the state's prestige took place in Washington. In the United States since Saturday, with a packed schedule of meetings with American officials—including Secretary of State Marco Rubio on Sunday—Lebanese President Joseph Aoun was received by President Donald Trump at the White House on Tuesday. In terms of optics, the joint press conference between the two presidents revealed genuine chemistry between the two heads of state, with the message conveyed being one of a relationship moving in the right direction. On the substance, all signals were equally positive. That same evening, the American president announced a symbolic yet significant measure: the resumption of direct flights between the United States and Beirut, which had been suspended for more than 40 years. The Lebanese president, for his part, expressed on multiple occasions after the meeting his confidence that the country is on the right track. Doubts certainly remain and the challenges are still enormous, but this Washington meeting will not have been a missed opportunity. Unsurprisingly, the president's visit to the American capital and his performance there earned him broad support from within Lebanon's political class. Even Nabih Berry, the Speaker of Parliament and leader of Amal—a Hezbollah ally who had distanced himself from the president's decisions in recent weeks—called him upon his return. Hezbollah, on the other hand, continues to attack Aoun relentlessly: in a scathing statement on Thursday, the party accused the president of having 'failed to secure a single national sovereignty-related demand,' asserting that he 'did not obtain any American commitment regarding an Israeli withdrawal.' On this front as well, the Shia militia appears increasingly isolated. On Saturday, the president received an additional boost of confidence during the beatification Mass of the 'father of Greater Lebanon,' Patriarch Elias Howayek, held at the patriarchate's summer residence in Dimane (Bcharre, northern Lebanon), through the words of Maronite Patriarch Bechara Rai. At this religious and political gathering—which brought together figures from all communities (with the surprising exception of Nabih Berry)—the patriarch hailed 'the positive signs' that emerged from the Washington meeting and reiterated his support for the president.

Leaving a Maronite recital sung in Syriac, audience members are often struck by how deeply the words and spirituality have moved them. They experience an emotional intensity that is unusual — stronger, even, than what they feel when hearing a language they actually understand. This raises a question: how can a language that has become largely incomprehensible penetrate them more powerfully than one they learned in school? The Language of the Soul Syriac lies at the very source of Maronite spirituality, as it has for other Antiochian Churches. Though largely marginalized, this language remains embedded in the essence of Maronite identity. It speaks to the spirit, nourishes the inner life, and quenches a spiritual thirst. Through its sound, its rhythm, and the richness of its poetic imagery, Syriac opens up a singular inner space. Even when the faithful no longer fully understand the language, they experience it as a part of themselves. As Jesuit liturgist Robert Taft has pointed out, liturgical participation is not reducible to the intellectual understanding of a text; it also engages a symbolic, sensory, and emotional memory that plays a full role in the experience of the rite. Following a historical and then a linguistic approach, this series of seven articles aims to show how the loss of a language — under the guise of openness to one's surroundings and to the wider world — leads to the illusion of an absolute faith. The pursuit of a purely spiritual religion, detached from all heritage, uprooted and freed from identity, can then transform into ideology. Chalcedon From a historical standpoint, one cannot help but notice the deep, existential bond between the Syriac language and the Maronites — both as a Church and as a people. In this regard, the Council of Chalcedon, convened in 451 by Byzantine Emperor Marcian and his wife Pulcheria, proves to be a defining moment: This fourth ecumenical council clearly affirmed dyophysitism — that is, the two natures, human and divine, of Christ, truly man and truly God. "One and the same Christ, acknowledged in two natures, without confusion, without change, without division, and without separation" declares the profession of faith known as the "Symbol of Chalcedon." The Syriac-speaking Christians, whose theological approach was more anthropological than philosophical, found it difficult to grasp these fine distinctions, all the more so because their vocabulary did not always allow for such nuances to be expressed. Beyond the theological controversy, these Christians also feared the risk of political and cultural assimilation into the Greek-speaking Byzantine Empire. Faced with a choice between ecclesiastical unity and the preservation of their cultural identity — in the face of Greek assimilation — the Western Syriac Christians split into three groups: 1- The first group chose Christian unity, embracing the council along with all its liturgical, cultural, and even identity-related implications. Having fully integrated into the imperial Byzantine Church, this community is known today as Greek Orthodox, Melkite, or Rum (Eastern Romans). 2- The second group, deeply attached to its cultural identity, rejected the council outright. Although miaphysite in theology — recognizing both the human and divine natures of Christ as united in one — it was labeled monophysite. Known during the Middle Ages as Jacobite, it now calls itself the Syriac Orthodox Church. 3- The third group refused both of these radical options and chose instead a path of compromise and synthesis: Chalcedonian Christian unity, without abandoning its steadfast commitment to the Syriac language. In the seventh century, this group became an autocephalous Maronite Antiochian Church, with Saint John Maron as its first patriarch. Without this unwavering attachment to the Syriac language, culture, identity, and spirituality, the Maronite Church would likely never have existed. It would have dissolved, like the rest of the Chalcedonians, into Byzantine imperial culture. Saint John Maron The very idea of Lebanon has its roots in the work of this first patriarch, Saint John Maron, who gave his nascent Church a national dimension. Unlike the other Syriac, Melkite, and Coptic Churches, the Church of Saint John Maron was not confined to the spiritual realm — it took on the attributes of a nation. This patriarch thus established its territorial foundations (Mount Lebanon), its religious identity (Chalcedonian Christianity), its military force (the Mardaites), and its linguistic heritage (Syriac). The Mardaites, a warrior people most likely of Caucasian origin, were tasked with defending the Levant. Following the peace treaty concluded in 667 between Caliph Muawiya and Emperor Constantine IV, the latter ordered the withdrawal of his Mardaite troops from Lebanon. A second withdrawal of twelve thousand Mardaites took place under Justinian II. Those Mardaites who remained then formed the military backbone of the Maronites. While military organization is an essential condition for the emergence of a political entity, language remains the cornerstone of any national identity. Saint John Maron placed it at the heart of his spiritual project, making Syriac the liturgical, sacred, and symbolic language.

It is true that translating Lebanese President Joseph Aoun’s visit to the White House into concrete political results will require time and sustained effort, for many reasons. It is equally true, however, that appearances matter in relations between states, particularly when dealing with a president as unpredictable as Donald Trump, who is known at times to place greater weight on personal chemistry than on institutional considerations in his dealings with heads of state and government around the world. The scene in the Oval Office where Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky was publicly dressed down before the world’s cameras remains vividly etched in people’s memories. For that reason, the symbolic dimension of presidential summits cannot be dismissed, especially for a small country such as Lebanon, whose greatest asset remains the reputation of its people, who have succeeded across the globe by integrating into the societies that welcomed them and rising to the highest political, economic, and social positions. It now appears that the old maxim, “Lebanon’s strength is its weakness,” has once again resurfaced in Lebanese political discourse, particularly after the collapse of every slogan built around the so called “balance of deterrence” and similar concepts that lost all meaning in the aftermath of the wars of 2024 and 2026. Whatever the case, it has always been a profoundly misguided notion, and returning to it would be a grave mistake. While it is true that Lebanon cannot realistically build the kind of military arsenal that would allow it to defend its territory and borders on the same scale as other states, relying exclusively on the country’s “friends,” as one politician has suggested, is no solution either. No state’s diplomacy or foreign policy can be built solely on friendships. In politics, there are no permanent friendships. What serves one country’s interests today may no longer do so tomorrow, without explanation or justification. No less important than the Lebanese-American summit were the political remarks President Aoun delivered during the reception hosted by the Lebanese Embassy in Washington. His speech reflected a profound understanding of the dilemmas confronting Lebanon today and of the means to overcome them by reconciling the supreme national interest, sovereignty, and the state’s monopoly over arms with the equally vital need to avoid igniting internal conflict or shifting regional confrontations onto the Lebanese arena, thereby jeopardizing stability and civil peace. The president’s assertion that Hezbollah is not a mercenary force was particularly significant. Its members are the sons of the South, however profound the disagreements many Lebanese may have with them, and however much their religious doctrine has become intertwined with a political project whose foundations extend beyond Lebanon’s borders and capacities. The answer lies not in confrontation but in integration, and integration can only succeed through a comprehensive national vision capable of rebuilding trust between the state and the different components of Lebanese society. The gap separating those different components of Lebanese society from the state continues to widen for many reasons. Some are rooted in deeply rooted convictions embraced by segments of the population, convictions that cannot easily be abandoned or challenged through competing political, social, or, even more so, religious narratives. Others stem from a long historical legacy of the state’s inability, and at times its unwillingness, to protect southern Lebanon and its people, leaving them exposed to Israeli attacks, even before Hezbollah came into existence. Still others are linked to the state’s chronic weakness, the concentration of economic activity in the capital and major cities, and the deliberate or unintended neglect of rural areas, agriculture, traditional crafts, and small local industries, all of which are essential to enabling communities to remain on their land. Against that backdrop, it is essential that the measures to be taken in the coming phase proceed in parallel, gradually narrowing this deep divide. The state must move swiftly to fill the vacuum on the political, security, and economic fronts, asserting its presence where it has long been absent. Prime Minister Nawaf Salam’s symbolic act of planting the Lebanese flag in Zawtar al-Gharbiya following the Israeli withdrawal fits squarely within that approach. It should now be followed by similar initiatives at every level. If this is one of the essential tasks on the domestic front, the corresponding priority abroad is to strengthen the Lebanese Armed Forces as the principal guarantor of civil peace, enabling them to fully discharge their responsibilities, both in safeguarding internal stability and in enforcing the state’s monopoly over arms. That objective must be pursued first and foremost in implementation of the Taif Agreement, before it is seen as a response to any external demand, and as a safeguard against further unrestrained wars that have repeatedly brought devastation and national collapse upon Lebanon. Strengthening the Lebanese Armed Forces, enhancing their capabilities, and further reinforcing them constitutes the cornerstone of the next phase, without undermining their military doctrine, at least not until the situation in southern Lebanon has become fully clear, Israel has completed its withdrawal, and the occupied territory has been fully recovered. The state alone remains the fundamental guarantor of all Lebanese, even if, under the current political circumstances, it does not yet possess the means to provide complete protection. Part of its ability to fulfill that responsibility also depends on its capacity to rally the Lebanese around its national project, for every parallel project has ultimately proved a resounding failure.

The 2026 FIFA World Cup ended on a high note for FIFA, the United States, and football fans alike. Tournament revenues are expected to reach $13 billion, making this edition the most profitable sporting event in history. The result further strengthens Gianni Infantino’s position ahead of his bid for re-election as FIFA president next year. This World Cup also ranked among the most expensive sporting events ever staged in the United States. On the secondary market, ticket prices soared, with an average purchase price of $10,800 and individual tickets fetching as much as $32,000. Whether that is good or bad news depends entirely on whether one is buying… or selling. Although weather conditions disrupted a handful of matches, they fell far short of the widespread postponements many observers had feared. Likewise, the logistical nightmares predicted for the first World Cup jointly hosted by three countries, the United States, Mexico, and Canada, ultimately failed to materialize. With 48 teams and 104 matches, the tournament produced the kind of surprises that give the World Cup its unique magic and unpredictability. Cape Verde, the second smallest nation ever to qualify for the competition, emerged as one of the tournament’s revelations by holding Spain to a draw in its opening match. Norway, returning to the World Cup after a very long absence, reached the quarter-finals thanks to its towering striker Erling Haaland, who quickly became a fan favorite, while Norwegian supporters popularized their now-famous “Viking clap.” Canada and Egypt also wrote new chapters in their respective World Cup histories. Egypt advanced to the Round of 16, becoming one of nine African nations to reach the knockout stage. Among FIFA’s six continental confederations, Africa even outperformed Europe, sending thirteen teams beyond the group stage. Lionel Messi finally put to rest any remaining debate about his place among the greatest players in World Cup history, if not in the history of football itself. By leading his team to the final, he left the pitch at MetLife Stadium as only the second player ever to appear in three World Cup finals. Yet these achievements should not obscure the tournament’s darker realities. This edition will be remembered as the most politicized World Cup in history, and the first to be staged while the host nation, the United States, was at war with Iran. The consequences were immediate, beginning with the refusal to grant visas to more than a dozen members of the official Iranian delegation. The U.S. State Department also denied entry to Somali referee Omar Abdulkadir Artan, citing “security concerns requiring further review.” Meanwhile, although the Video Assistant Referee (VAR) system was originally introduced to alert the referee to clear and obvious errors or serious incidents that had gone unnoticed, it became increasingly interventionist throughout the tournament. It ruled out a Croatian goal and denied Egypt what could have been the winning strike. Critics argue that VAR has steadily stripped refereeing of its human judgment, depriving football of much of its dramatic tension. Football is an art, not merely a system. It is precisely that element of uncertainty that makes millions fall in love with the game. Adding to the controversy was the extraordinary intervention of President Donald Trump, who claimed credit for refereeing decisions involving striker Folarin Balogun, even asserting that he had personally intervened to secure the suspension of a red card. But, as always with FIFA, money speaks the loudest. Despite the controversies surrounding Gianni Infantino over the past year, he appears to have lost little support. Spain, therefore, was not the tournament’s only winner. This World Cup also became an extension of international relations and one of the clearest expressions of soft power in today’s world. The World Cup may well be the last truly universal language still spoken by humanity. It creates memories as much as it forges a sense of belonging. Within this universe, FIFA, Donald Trump, Gianni Infantino, money, sponsors, and VAR do not stand as separate phenomena. Together, they illustrate a single reality: politics no longer watches the match from the stands. It now plays on the pitch. Yet despite every attempt to politicize the game, people still weep over a goal, celebrate an unexpected upset, and believe that a smaller nation can still bring down one of football’s traditional giants. That is a form of symbolic justice that politics can never fully buy. Since the inaugural World Cup in Uruguay in 1930, followed by Italy in 1934, England in 1966, and the tournament of 2002, football’s greatest competition has never been free from controversy and scandal. Football can serve as a peaceful substitute for war. It can also help supporters around the world recognize what unites them rather than what divides them, beyond political conflict, allegations of corruption, or the practice of sportswashing. But that is not the whole story. The World Cup may be a luxury. Yet it is one that virtually no one is willing to give up. Every four years, millions of fans quietly slip away from work to watch the matches, allow their children to stay up late into the night, and put everyday life on hold, if only for ninety minutes. No one can take that pleasure away from them. The World Cup is a remarkable machine for creating memories. Longtime supporters remember exactly where they were during their team’s greatest triumphs and most painful defeats, and who shared those moments with them: a father who is no longer alive, a friend, a child who has since grown up. Football also keeps alive the hope that a different future remains possible, one in which the underdogs can overturn the established order and reach the summit, if only for the duration of a tournament. It is a drama that never truly fades, echoed even in national anthems, themselves infused with memories of war, soldiers, and sacrifice. The proliferation of conspiracy theories is, in itself, a measure of the extraordinary passion the World Cup inspires across the globe. According to FIFA, nearly three billion people watched the 2026 final on television. Such an audience generates enormous revenue streams from broadcasting rights, sponsorship agreements, ticket sales, and hospitality packages. Like his long-serving predecessors, Sepp Blatter and João Havelange, Gianni Infantino has demonstrated a remarkable ability to move comfortably among the world’s most powerful figures. He received Russia’s Order of Friendship from Vladimir Putin and created the FIFA Peace Award, which he presented to Donald Trump. By expanding the tournament to 48 teams, FIFA also expanded the web of competing interests, rivalries, and geopolitical calculations at a time of growing international instability. The familiar call to “keep politics out of sport” is ultimately a convenient illusion. No one should expect sport to exist in a sanctuary untouched by political influence. What can and should be demanded, however, is greater consistency, transparency, and accountability. Technology can help achieve those goals, but it can also complicate them when decisions disappear behind the digital curtain of the Video Assistant Referee (VAR). There is no disputing matters of taste, even if a small minority, out of aesthetic sensibility, sees football shirts as symbols of an inherently violent game. The reality is that football captivates almost everyone because it awakens something deeply archaic: the need for collective ritual. As the sociologist Émile Durkheim observed, sacred things are “set apart and surrounded by prohibitions.” For many, football has become a genuine day of worship, a ritual that nourishes communal pride and peacefully unites people around shared identities. It satisfies the desire to belong to something greater than oneself through what Durkheim called “collective effervescence,” creating bonds between people who might otherwise have very little in common, brought together by the celebration of an unexpected victory. This dynamic also opens the door to unexpected possibilities. Loyalty to the nation, expressed through a player’s national identity, can prove far more complex than it first appears. American footballer Folarin Balogun, born in the United States to Nigerian parents and also eligible to represent England, is a case in point. Supporting a national team therefore also means embracing pluralism and the ability of societies to forge new forms of shared identity, in which the “I” becomes a “we.” It is precisely this dynamic that brought together the people of New York around a shared emotion. The Catholic theologian Michael Novak argued that “sport flows from a deep natural impulse toward excellence.” Politics, too, appeals to tribal instincts. Football, however, offers those instincts an arena infinitely less cruel than the battlefield, and even less divisive than the ballot box. Perhaps that is football’s quietest act of mercy.