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The latest Hamas delegation arrived in Cairo at the beginning of this month, carrying the movement’s responses to the High Commissioner of the Peace Council, Nikolay Miladinov’s questions as well as his ever changing proposals. This time, the delegation was not headed by Khalil al Hayya, who nevertheless conveyed a firm and unwavering position on the issue of the exclusive control of weapons, stressing that any such step could only be implemented gradually, according to a timetable tied to a clearly defined political process guaranteeing the Palestinian people’s right to self determination and the exercise of their sovereignty . At the same time, the movement demanded payment of all outstanding sums owed to the civil servants who had served under its government through the “Gaza Administration Committee,” while seeking to maintain its role throughout the transitional period. Israeli positions, for their part, continue to reject any arrangement that would allow Hamas to retain a military wing once the transitional period comes to an end. Functional Power Sharing The fragmentation of the Gaza Strip into two distinct zones is becoming increasingly entrenched. To the east lies the theater of Israeli military operations. To the west lives the overwhelming majority of the population, under the authority of Hamas’ security apparatus and police, surviving amid the remnants of tents, the ruins of demolished homes, and the meager remains of food, water, and medicine. In that part of the territory, Hamas exercises authority, collects taxes, and manages commercial activity with a handful of traders whose business practices are no less ruthless than Hamas’ security apparatus is in its dealings with the population. Whenever the issue of weapons and their exclusive control in the Gaza Strip arises, it is worth recalling that the Trump administration, together with the Turkish and Qatari mediators, came to the conclusion that Hamas should retain its arsenal until the transitional period has been completed. The equation is therefore a simple one. Israel rejects Hamas’ weapons, while the movement has hardened its demands regarding the exclusive control of arms to the point of seeking both collective and individual guarantees for the future. Meanwhile, Nikolay Miladinov shuttles between the parties in an effort to weave together an agreement capable of satisfying both Israel and Hamas. According to this intractable equation, and in line with the instructions of the US administration, with Israel’s approval, the Gaza Administration Committee is to begin its work in the eastern part of the Strip, under the direct control of the Israeli occupation forces, although no timetable for implementation has yet been established. Hamas would thus continue to exercise authority over the western part of the Strip, resulting in a dual authority that can only be understood as an expression of functional power sharing between the two sides. This arrangement only deepens the population’s suffering, locking it into a state of stalemate and deadlock, while food security, water supplies, and healthcare continue to collapse at an accelerating pace, leaving disease, hunger, and thirst to ravage the people of Gaza. They find themselves simultaneously under the tutelage of the Peace Council, the occupation of the Israeli army, and the rule of Hamas. By adopting the resolution establishing the “Peace Council” on 17 November 2025, the United Nations Security Council did not intend to place the Palestinians under President Donald Trump’s tutelage. Rather, its purpose was to bring an end to a war of extermination that had become detrimental to Israel’s interests and international image, while authorizing the deployment of an international force to help the people of Gaza survive the genocide they are enduring. Eight months have passed since the Peace Council was established, yet negotiations remain stalled at the implementation of the first of the twenty points set out in the Trump initiative. Red Lines The fifth round of negotiations has concluded without the slightest meaningful progress. The red lines of both sides remain irreconcilable, reflecting a fundamental deadlock between Israel and Hamas over the issue of the exclusive control of weapons and the future of governance in the Gaza Strip, while both await the change in the Palestinian Authority’s leadership following the legislative and presidential elections scheduled for the end of this year. After every setback in the negotiations, Egyptian diplomacy steps forward with fresh proposals aimed at keeping the talks alive. Its objective is to prevent Israel from evading its international obligations and from imposing a new reality in the Gaza Strip by turning the Palestinian Egyptian border into an Israeli Egyptian border, with all the strategic implications such a transformation would have for Egypt’s national security as well as for the Egyptian Israeli Peace Treaty. From this geopolitical standpoint, Egyptian diplomacy is working to strengthen the role of the Palestinian National Authority and secure both its political and institutional presence. It has succeeded in reviving the Agreement on Crossings, restoring the official Palestinian presence with European participation as well, and securing an agreement for the deployment of fifteen thousand police officers, in three successive waves, in order to help safeguard people’s lives in the Gaza Strip. To this should be added the symbolic participation of the city of Deir al Balah in the municipal elections held a few months ago. Cairo remains more determined than ever to prevent the negotiations from collapsing, despite the wishes of Benjamin Netanyahu and his generals. To achieve this objective, Egyptian diplomacy employs both flexibility and firmness in its dealings with all parties, including Israel. Working alongside the three mediating states, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, and Türkiye, Cairo is closely monitoring the evolution of the conflict between Washington, Tehran, and Tel Aviv, as well as the still open possibility of a return to levels of violence that could erupt once again, however tightly they may be contained. The upcoming political and electoral processes in the United States and Israel could yet produce outcomes that would undermine the prospects for a broad international and regional peace process. At the same time, Turkish and Qatari policies are following a different course. They seek to forge a new relationship between Hamas and the White House administration, drawing on their long experience with radical political Islamist movements, particularly the Afghan Taliban movement. That experience, long regarded by Khaled Meshaal, a member of Hamas’ Political Bureau, as a model to be emulated, could help reshape the movement and reintegrate it into the Palestinian political system. Without the flexibility shown by both the previous and the current US administrations, Hamas’ leadership would hardly have pushed its negotiating demands so far. Its strategy rests on the expectation that Ankara and Doha will succeed in rehabilitating its role in the Palestinian cause. This, in turn, would enable the White House to impose its own terms on both Hamas and the Palestinian Authority, thereby lowering the ceiling of the national aspirations the Palestinian people would be willing to accept. This game has continued ever since the Sharon government facilitated Hamas’ rise to power through its 2007 coup against Palestinian legitimacy. If this game continues to guarantee the same outcome, why shouldn’t it be played again? A Drop of Water As Israel continues to block the entry of humanitarian aid, the crisis over access to clean water grows ever more severe. Every day, the Gaza Strip requires 140,000 cubic metres of water to meet the needs of drinking, hospitals, and food. The United Nations continues to warn of the collapse of water security, while Hamas, for its part, shows neither in its rhetoric nor in its conduct the slightest concern for the people. To Hamas, weapons matter more than a single drop of water.

The past week gives a vague sense that fire is smoldering beneath the ashes. Tensions between the Americans and Iranians persist; they are erupting openly within the mullah regime itself, and in Lebanon, Israeli ceasefire violations continue without, for now, drawing a response from Hezbollah. Days of waiting, almost of a standstill, defined the past week. It was less eventful than the weeks that have followed one another since the start of the war in Iran and the opening of the parallel Lebanese front, yet it remains no less significant. Cracks are appearing here and there — not only in the memorandum of understanding signed between the Americans and Iranians, but within the Iranian regime itself. The Strait of Hormuz was a flashpoint this week between Iran and the rest of the world. The Iranian insistence on treating the strait as territory to be controlled by the regime — and the firing on vessels crossing the waterway without its approval — has earned the mullahs condemnation from all sides. On Thursday, at Bahrain's request, the UN Security Council convened to address the issue, and the remarks made by various representatives, including the American ambassador, strongly rebuked Iran for its conduct and actions. On Friday, NATO leaders, following the European Union earlier in the week, sharply criticized the Tehran regime, rejecting any fees imposed on ships under the guise of "services rendered." Even more notable were the words spoken by U.S. President Donald Trump on Saturday, during celebrations marking the 250th anniversary of American independence. "We hit them very hard — they're dying to make a deal with us — but we're going to give them a week for the funeral of (their Supreme Leader) Khamenei, out of kindness," he told the crowd. Does this statement signal that he is losing patience? In any case, negotiations on this front will not resume until after July 9, when the mourning period ends. The Americans would also clearly prefer to let the World Cup period pass — a tournament being held partly on their soil. A show of force and internal divisions The funerals of Ali Khamenei and his family members, killed alongside him in the Israeli-American strike of February 28, 2026, that ignited the war in the Middle East, are one of the defining moments of this week and are expected to stretch over several days, culminating in the burial on July 9. The ceremonies honoring the late leader began — and it is hard to believe this was a coincidence — on July 4, American Independence Day. For the mullah regime, this is, as one might expect, a show of force and an opportunity to reassert the regime's cohesion. Except that, so far, it has not quite played out that way. To be sure, the show of force succeeded on the surface. Hundreds of thousands of regime loyalists turned out to pay their final respects to the religious (and political) leader who ruled that vast country with an iron fist for more than three decades. Tears, cries, self-flagellation — all the outward signs of grief and of a determination to continue on the path of the "master" were on display. Official representatives from several allied countries, such as Pakistan, made the trip. Despite the strained relations of late between official Lebanon and Iran, Beirut sent Defense Minister Michel Menassa to represent it. Unsurprisingly, a large Hezbollah delegation bowed, in tears, before the ayatollah's coffin. Yet what was meant to be a moment of tremendous unity around a beloved unifying figure has ultimately exposed growing cracks — not only between conservatives and reformists (which would be expected in Iran), but within the conservative wing of the regime itself. According to several media outlets, including an article in the New York Times and a report by al-Arabiya , the signs clearly indicate that the unity displayed by Iran's leaders is nothing more than a façade. While President Massoud Pezeshkian and Parliament Speaker Mohammad Ghalibaf continue to defend the deal with the Americans, other conservative voices are questioning how such talks can take place when Washington — along with its allies — is responsible for the assassination of the Supreme Leader. A power struggle Also this week, a televised interview with Ghalibaf, in which he laid out the details of the agreement with Washington, was abruptly cut off by state television — run by an ultra-conservative — prompting outrage from the chief negotiator. In Iraq, where he was taking part in preparations for ceremonies honoring Khamenei in a country with a large Shia population and many supporters, Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi was booed by Iranians… who blamed him for his role in the negotiations with the United States. The article in the New York Times explains that these divisions are not focused solely on the deal with the United States, but above all reflect an internal struggle for power. A struggle, too, to win the favor of new Supreme Leader Mojtaba Khamenei… who has yet to make any public appearance, despite reports of his determination to attend the funerals of his father and other family members. His continued absence is fueling the wildest rumors about his health (he is said to have been seriously wounded in the same strike that killed his father) and his ability to lead the country. This week also saw revelations from the New York Times and the Washington Post about an alleged Israeli intention to eliminate Iran's two chief negotiators, Ghalibaf and Araghchi, during the talks with the Americans. According to the American newspapers, Washington was so concerned about losing these interlocutors that it reached out to countries in the region to warn Tehran of the threat. Unsurprisingly, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu stepped forward to deny these allegations. Demolitions in southern Lebanon While the preliminary agreement signed between the Americans and Iranians continues to divide opinion in Tehran, the framework agreement signed by the Lebanese and Israeli delegations on June 22 in Washington is also drawing criticism in Beirut. The Shia duo continues to voice its opposition to the document, which calls for the establishment of pilot zones where Israeli troops would hand over control to the Lebanese army. Faced with criticism from the Hezbollah-Amal tandem, sovereignist factions are increasingly showing their support for head of state Joseph Aoun and Prime Minister Nawaf Salam, who had the political courage to opt for direct negotiations with Israel. Opponents of the framework agreement are primarily pointing to one of its articles — Article 13 — to justify their position: this article stipulates that neither Lebanon nor Israel shall file complaints before international bodies against the other country for any potential war crimes. Hezbollah, which has so often paralyzed and undermined international and domestic judicial proceedings — as seen with the international tribunal into the 2005 assassination of Rafic Hariri and the 2020 Beirut port explosion — now suddenly presents itself as a fervent champion of international courts. Those who support the text argue that the inclusion of such a clause is standard practice in ongoing negotiations. The document is certainly not perfect, but as President Aoun has emphasized on multiple occasions this week, this framework agreement reflects Lebanon's determination to negotiate on its own behalf, with the understanding that the government cannot under any circumstances cede a single square meter of national territory. It must be acknowledged, in this context, that following the successive defeats suffered by Hezbollah against Israel in the wars of 2023 and 2026, official Lebanon finds itself with few options for recovering the lost territories. On the side of the Shiite tandem, the outward show of unity is giving way to telling "nuances" in their respective positions. While Hezbollah unequivocally rejects the direct negotiation process, Amal leader and Parliament Speaker Nabih Berry appears to be blowing hot and cold. In one of his statements this week, he indicated he was open to compromise on the matter. In any case, the plan to form a four-party coalition — Hezbollah, Amal, the Free Patriotic Movement, and the Progressive Socialist Party — to defeat the framework agreement in Parliament has come to nothing. Although a visit by FPM leader Gebran Bassil to Berry this week fueled speculation on the matter, a statement by former PSP leader Walid Joumblatt, the Druze chieftain, dashed the hopes of those counting on such a scenario. While critical of the framework agreement, Joumblatt made clear he would not be part of any such coalition, should it come to that. On the ground, the situation in the south remains tense, though it has not yet escalated into open warfare. Israeli forces continue their attacks, the targeted killings of Hezbollah figures, and the demolition of homes and tunnels. The Shiite party, for its part, is largely adhering to the ceasefire, which it views as the outcome of Iran's stance ahead of the framework agreement's signing in Washington. That truce remains more fragile than ever. Shaibani in Beirut The other major development this week was the visit of Syrian Foreign Minister Assaad al-Shaibani to Beirut on Thursday — a visit that appears to open a new chapter between two countries with a deeply complicated shared history. The statements made reflected a mutual commitment to respecting each country's sovereignty and building equal-footing relations across various areas, particularly in trade. The visit culminated in the signing, by Shaibani and Nawaf Salam, of an agreement establishing a bilateral cooperation commission. The Syrian foreign minister, who met with all parties except Hezbollah and also traveled to Tripoli, the predominantly Sunni capital of northern Lebanon, likely reassured Lebanese officials that Syria would not interfere in the disarmament of the Lebanese Shiite militia — something President Trump has called for on multiple occasions. A coincidence of timing? The Syrian capital Damascus was rocked on Thursday by a powerful terrorist explosion at a café near the Palace of Justice, killing at least 9 people and wounding many more. The blast, caused by a makeshift explosive device according to Syrian authorities, has not been claimed, but bears the hallmarks of the Islamic State terrorist group. L’attentat à la charge explosive «artisanale», selon les autorités syriennes, n’a pas été revendiqué, mais il porte les empreintes du groupe terroriste Etat islamique.

This essay explores the figures of crisis and catastrophe, from ancient cosmologies to the lived experience of a world in upheaval. Bringing together the Greek, Biblical, and Indian traditions with the thought of Jan Patočka, it examines how civilizations have conceived disorder, collapse, irreversibility, and even the very possibility of action when meaning itself begins to falter. Published here as a series of seven essay-chapters, the text follows a demanding yet essential thread: to understand whether catastrophe is a sudden rupture, a slow disintegration of the world, or the deepest truth of our age. What follows is the fourth part. From the Cycle to the Irreversible Distinguishing crisis from catastrophe, or separating cosmic catastrophe from historical or individual catastrophe, indeed constitutes two impossibilities, or rather two blind spots, within traditional Indian thought. In this tradition, the cosmic does not stand in opposition to the historical; it unfolds within it. Catastrophe is not the exception of time, but its most intimate truth. The dissociation between crisis and catastrophe, as well as the gradual decosmization of disaster, is the product of a long genealogy specific to Western thought. It results from the intersection of the Greco-Roman and Judeo-Christian legacies, followed by their reconfiguration in the modern era. It is, in fact, within the Judeo-Christian tradition that the conception of catastrophe as an absolute event becomes most clearly stabilized. The Flood in Genesis, the Apocalypse of John, and the Last Judgment all configure the same temporal structure: a linear, directional time endowed with a beginning and an irreversible end; a terminal event that not only reorganizes the world but closes it in order to inaugurate another order altogether, that of salvation and redemption. [1] It would therefore be reductive to claim that Judeo-Christianity separates terrestrial catastrophe from cosmic catastrophe. Rather, it maintains the relationship between them, but within a new hierarchy governed by the economy of one-way time. Earthly disaster is no longer conceived as one moment among others in the great cosmic cycle; it becomes the sign, the indication, or the prelude to an ultimate and universal catastrophe. The linearization of temporality introduces here a decisive mutation: evil, war, and destruction become charged with a teleological meaning. They no longer belong to the cyclical rhythm of nature, but to the dramaturgy of history. Such a transformation marks a profound break with the cosmologies of antiquity and, even more so, with the dharmic visions of India. In the latter, the ruptures of the world, wars, plagues, collapses, are always already inscribed within a cyclical order. They do not interrupt cosmic harmony; they constitute its inner pulse, its very respiration. Human disaster is never conceived as a definitive event, but as a necessary and transitory modulation of a broader equilibrium. Between the earthly plane and the order of the cosmos there exists no ontological fracture: both participate in the same becoming ( saṃsāra ), the movement of creation ( sṛṣṭi ) and dissolution ( pralaya ). By contrast, within the Judeo-Christian tradition, terrestrial catastrophe becomes a historical event, while cosmic catastrophe becomes a terminal event. The former translates guilt into the language of time; the latter resolves time itself into the absolute of revelation. What is at stake here is not their simple separation, but their tension within an oriented temporality, one in which the world possesses a beginning, a history, and an end. Catastrophe ceases to be the respiration of the cosmos and becomes instead the fulfillment of history. Thus emerges, within the genealogy of classical Western thought, whether Greco-Christian or modern, an eschatological structure of thinking: crisis calls for catastrophe as its culmination, and catastrophe, far from belonging to the infinite rhythm of becoming, designates the point of rupture, the closure of time. Indian thought, by contrast, will always conceive catastrophe not as terminal dissolution, but as a moment of regeneration, the twilight phase of a cycle destined to be reborn. Within an eschatological perspective, time is structured as an oriented line: beginning, development, fulfillment, and end. In this framework, crisis and catastrophe are not merely two modalities of disorder, but two different intensities related to an ultimate horizon. Crisis appears as a moment of tension internal to historical becoming, a point of decision that remains integrated within the continuity of the world. Catastrophe, by contrast, tends to be conceived as the irruption of an ending, not only of a particular order but potentially of the order of the world itself. Thus, their relationship is often understood within an eschatological logic: crisis becomes a threshold, whereas catastrophe becomes either the anticipated figure or the actual realization of the end. The fact that, within the Western tradition, the relationship between crisis and catastrophe is often structured by an eschatological matrix implies that these categories are invariably embedded in an intelligibility of oriented time, where the meaning of the present depends upon a horizon of ending. This, in turn, implies that every eschatology is immediately political, insofar as it produces a hierarchy of temporalities, interprets crises as signs, and orients action according to an anticipated end. Eschatology is not politics itself, yet it structures the very field of what can be politically conceived. Catastrophe derives etymologically from the Greek katastrophē , a term originating in Greek tragedy that designates the “final reversal,” the moment of irreversible resolution. It signifies not merely a rupture of equilibrium, but the destruction or collapse of an order of the world, often perceived as total, irreparable, or at the very least irreversible (world wars, genocides, ecological collapse). Although the catastrophic initially appears to belong to a spatial register, collapse, devastation, the dislocation of forms, as opposed to the decisional temporality proper to crisis, it paradoxically constitutes the very condition of possibility for a specifically Mediterranean, and later Western, intuition of time itself. For what catastrophe introduces is not merely a rupture within the world, but a transformation in the meaning of becoming: it inscribes time under the sign of irreversibility. Time no longer appears as the simple repetition of cycles or the return of identical configurations, but as an exposure to a loss that can never be entirely overcome. Even the recurrence of the seasons, although it preserves the appearance of cyclical return, now seems marked by this seal of irreversibility: return never reproduces the identical. Every beginning anew bears the trace of alteration, as though repetition itself remained subject to a deeper temporality of erosion, finitude, and non-reversibility. It is undoubtedly within the Greek, and more specifically Homeric, imagination that this tension between return and irreversibility first finds its dramatic expression. The Odyssey stands precisely at this point of transition, where the dream of complete return encounters the awareness of irrevocable time. Homerism has always represented a challenge to irreversibility. The experience of Odysseus, or Ulysses, lies at the intersection of the reversible and the irreversible: the entire work is organized around both the possibility and the impossibility of return. The Odyssey stages a logic of return: the return to Ithaca, the restoration of the household, the reestablishment of kingship, and final recognition. From this perspective, it still belongs to an ancient Mediterranean symbolic world in which the lost order remains capable of being recovered. Ulysses’ journey thus appears as a parenthesis destined to be closed; it inscribes within myth the possibility of repairing history. Yet, at a deeper level, this return bears the unmistakable mark of irreversibility. For Ulysses never returns to the same world: Troy has been destroyed, his companions are dead, time has passed through Ithaca, and he himself, transformed by experience, can no longer coincide with his own past. The Greek nostos [2] therefore does not signify the perfect restoration of the identical. It represents a return marked by loss, a survival rather than genuine reversibility. The Odyssey still preserves the cyclical form of return, but that cycle has already been fractured by the fissure of irreversible time. Even when the hero regains his home, something remains irrevocably destroyed: the continuity of time, the innocence of departure, the possibility of an untouched beginning. In this light, Ulysses’ return appears as the point of transition between two symbolic regimes: it still belongs to a civilization of the cycle, yet already reveals a temporality of alteration, in which every return bears the mark of the irreparable. The Odyssey could thus be understood as the final effort of a Mediterranean civilization to preserve the myth of return in a world where time is beginning to close itself upon irreversibility. It is for this reason that the sea occupies such a central role: it is the place of wandering and metamorphosis, the fluid space where the movement of return encounters its own impossibility, where wandering itself becomes the truth of the journey. Emmanuel Levinas, in his rereading of the figure of Ulysses, recognized in this tension one of the fundamental cleavages between Greek thought and Biblical thought. In Totality and Infinity , as in other writings, he contrasts the destiny of Odysseus with that of Abraham: on the one hand, the thought of return; on the other, the adventure of departure without return, the opening toward alterity. [3] For Levinas, Ulysses symbolizes the deep structure of Greek thought: to depart, to encounter strangeness, yet always to return home. Every detour ultimately remains capable of being reinscribed within the identity of the Same. Monsters, islands, temptations, and strangers punctuate a journey that, paradoxically, continually brings every form of otherness back within the sphere of the familiar. Alterity is traversed only to be ultimately reappropriated, transformed into an experience of the Same. Abraham, by contrast, embodies a radically different structure. He leaves his land, his household, and his genealogy without any promise of return. His movement is not circular but one of openness. He exposes himself to the unknown through a definitive rupture with origin. The Biblical experience thus becomes that of non-return: meaning no longer proceeds from restoration but from promise and responsibility. For Levinas, this opposition assumes the form of a distinction between two regimes of temporality: return and exodus. Ulysses embodies circularity and reappropriation, the economy of the Same; Abraham embodies departure without restitution, the asymmetry of alterity that itself becomes law. The former is rooted in totality; the latter opens toward infinity. From this perspective, crisis and catastrophe are distributed according to these two symbolic regimes. Ulysses’ universe is that of crisis: a provisional disequilibrium of order, a suspended moment preparing the return to normality. Even the most violent ordeals, loss, shipwreck, wandering, never shatter the structure of meaning. They are destined to be overcome and reintegrated through the logic of nostos . Crisis is, in this sense, a temporary disturbance of the Same. Abraham’s universe, by contrast, belongs to an altogether different regime: that of catastrophe as the experience of irreversibility. Here catastrophe is not a spectacular collapse but an ontological rupture in the relationship to the Same. It signifies the radical departure from the circle, the impossibility of returning to origin. Through this displacement, Levinas redefines catastrophe: it is no longer a destructive event but the structure of ethical non-return itself, the very condition of openness to the Other. Crisis still belongs to the sphere of mastery and the regeneration of meaning; catastrophe belongs to that of dispossession and responsibility. Between Ulysses and Abraham, what unfolds is the transition from a civilization of return to a civilization of irreversibility, from cyclical time to oriented time. The former seeks, through crisis, the possibility of restoration; the latter recognizes, in catastrophe, the condition of a meaning that no longer closes back upon itself. With Ulysses, the world can still recover itself; with Abraham, it is delivered through its opening toward infinity. Biblically, Abraham enters the narrative in Genesis , chapter 12. The preceding eleven chapters (Genesis 1-11) belong to what might be called Biblical prehistory: they recount the beginnings of the world, the disobedience of Adam and Eve, the murder of Abel, the corruption of humanity before the Flood, the reconstruction around Noah, and the dispersion of humankind at Babel. Almost a succession of shipwrecks. A sequence of catastrophes, each one another failed beginning. The Biblical narrative itself opens upon a potential catastrophe: the tohu va-bohu , that primordial indeterminacy, a chaos not merely formless like raw matter, but already ravaged, a world that the creative Word must hold together and order. Even before creation itself, there is Bereshit (“In the beginning”), that in-between moment where catastrophe is already latent, where chaos calls for an order that God establishes without ever entirely abolishing it. [1] See Meaning in History ( Meaning in History: The Theological Implications of the Philosophy of History ), translated by George Weigel, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1949. [2] In Ancient Greek, the term nostos (νόστος) designates, first and foremost, the return home after a long absence. In Greek literature, and particularly in The Odyssey, it refers to the often arduous journey through which the hero returns to his homeland, his household, and his loved ones after years of wandering. [3] See Totality and Infinity , translated by Alphonso Lingis, Pittsburgh: Duquesne University Press, 1969, pp. 21-23 (Preface) and pp. 33-35 (beginning of Part I).

This series of articles aims to provide a clearer understanding of the current situation on the Lebanese scene in light of the past, setting aside passionate, ideological, or romanticized narratives that miss the realities on the ground, leaving readers to draw their own conclusions. The previous ten installments examined a reinterpretation of events surrounding Hezbollah's rise to power, from the Taif Agreement through the Israeli army's withdrawal from Lebanon in May 2000, up to the 2006 war and its aftermath. The deployment of the Lebanese army — known internationally as the Lebanese Armed Forces (LAF) — then under the command of General Michel Sleiman, to southern Lebanon was ordered by Fouad Siniora's government on August 16, 2006. This deployment, the first since 1968, was immediately launched at dawn on August 17 with the crossing of the Litani River via military Bailey bridges and improvised crossings, as the permanent bridges had been destroyed by Israeli bombardments. Although the LAF were far less equipped than they are today and had significantly fewer troops, this rapid deployment marked a historic turning point by restoring, for the first time since 1968, a state military presence south of the Litani — territory that had been under Hezbollah's control since 2000. Approved by the Council of Ministers on August 7 and framed within UN Resolution 1701, the operation called for a maximum force of 15,000 soldiers supported by UNIFIL, which was itself reinforced and expanded from 4,000 to 15,000 personnel. Deployment Details The LAF quickly deployed an initial contingent of 9,500 troops south of the Litani within the first few weeks. Due to a shortage of active personnel, 5,000 reservists were called up to fill the gap. The deployed forces consisted of four infantry brigades — namely the 6th th , 10th th , 11th th and 12th th brigades — initially reinforced and supported by the commando regiment, independent regiments, and engineer regiment detachments. The initial maneuver phase of the deployment included the progressive securing of main road arteries and key towns, notably Marjayoun, Tyre, Nabatiyeh, and Bint Jbeil, on a tight schedule. The crossing of the Litani and the initial establishment of tactical positions took place on August 17, followed by a gradual takeover of major traffic hubs that continued through the end of August. The deployment was officially completed on October 1, 2006, coinciding with the near-total withdrawal of Israeli forces, with the exception of the disputed area of Ghajar — a Syrian village in the occupied Golan Heights whose residents are either Syrian nationals or stateless individuals with no recognized identity, and who have illegally extended their village into Lebanese territory since 1975. This Israeli withdrawal was the second following that of the year 2000. On a structural level, the Lebanese army established a dedicated command for the area south of the Litani — something that had not existed before August 2006 — with its headquarters initially based in Tyre before being relocated to the Marjayoun barracks, overseeing tactical planning, logistics, and the local chain of command. Operational cooperation was closely synchronized with UNIFIL, with LAF units moving into specific positions as the Blue Helmets confirmed Israeli withdrawal from those points. Logistical and security missions were intensive: engineer units deployed Bailey bridges supplied by the United Kingdom to cross the Litani, cleared road axes of mines, disposed of unexploded ordnance, and secured approach routes, while dozens of fixed and mobile checkpoints were established on all roads leading to the south to control the flow of vehicles and people. fournis par le Royaume Uni pour franchir le Litani, procédé au déminage des axes routiers, traité les munitions non explosées et sécurisé les approches, tandis que des dizaines de check-points fixes et mobiles ont été implantés sur tous les itinéraires menant au Sud pour contrôler les flux de véhicules et de personnes. The stated political and operational objective was clear: to restore and assert Lebanese state sovereignty over the area, prohibit any parallel authority, and proceed, in accordance with the mandate, to seize illegal or openly visible weapons south of the Litani River. This mission generated considerable hope, but also foreshadowed anticipated tensions on the ground regarding the status of Hezbollah's weapons and the effective implementation of the state's monopoly on arms. The compromise between the State and Hezbollah, and the role of Émile Lahoud As far back as the 1990s, first as commander-in-chief of the army and later as president of the republic until 2006, Émile Lahoud played a central role in shielding Hezbollah's arsenal, acting as the movement's primary institutional, military, and legal guarantor against disarmament, and framing its illegal weapons—by any measure—as a complement to the supposedly limited capabilities of the Lebanese Armed Forces (LAF). When the UN Security Council adopted Resolution 1559 in 2004, demanding the disarmament of all Lebanese militias, including the pro-Iranian one, Émile Lahoud erected an institutional shield against any enforcement targeting Hezbollah. Leveraging his presidential mandate—extended solely by the will of Syrian diktat—and faced with the impossibility of finding a legal status for Hezbollah, Lahoud used his platform to declare that the resolution did not apply to the pro-Iranian party, describing it as a "national liberation movement" and a "resistance" rather than a militia, thereby granting it a degree of legitimacy. This stance blocked administrative and military attempts to catalogue or seize Hezbollah's weapons, and prevented any coercive implementation of its disarmament. During the July 2006 war and the government deliberations surrounding Resolution 1701, Lahoud positioned himself as the unyielding defender of Hezbollah's strategic interests at the highest level of the state—even though the government in power at the time was historic: it was the first to be formed after the end of 30 years of Syrian occupation of Lebanon, and the first to include both Hezbollah ministers and ministers openly hostile to Syria, making it a national unity government. The prime minister was Fouad Siniora, from the sovereignist March 14 coalition, which held a majority of the 24 ministerial posts. The government also included five ministers from the Hezbollah-Amal coalition led by Nabih Berri, along with other ministers aligned with Émile Lahoud. During the tense cabinet sessions of August 2006, when the government majority sought a clear mandate for the army to confiscate weapons south of the Litani, Lahoud drew an absolute red line. Under his pressure, relayed by his allied ministers and the five Hezbollah-Amal coalition ministers, the government endorsed an operational compromise dubbed the "doctrine of invisibility." Under this doctrine, the army could deploy to the South but would not conduct systematic searches of private property or carry out forced disarmament as long as weapons were not openly displayed in public. This effectively undermined the implementation of Resolution 1701 from the very outset, sowing the seeds of the conflict to come. In his capacity as president and supreme commander of the Lebanese Armed Forces, Lahoud ensured that the orders transmitted to the army commander-in-chief, General Michel Sleiman, included no mission to seize weapons caches—thereby guaranteeing that Hezbollah's military infrastructure, much of it underground or concealed, remained intact. Backed by Syrian influence — still significant in Lebanon despite the withdrawal of Syrian troops from Lebanese territory — Émile Lahoud provided Hezbollah with a "state umbrella" that offered not only political protection but also rhetorical cover. Lahoud used his power to block institutional processes, allowing the pro-Iranian party to first preserve, and then throughout the following decade, consolidate and expand its arsenal without fear of intervention by the Lebanese security apparatus. This strategy had the lasting effect of entrenching Hezbollah's role, under the guise of national defense rhetoric and the preservation of its illegal arsenal, which came to be seen as an accepted — if not legitimized — feature of Lebanon's strategic landscape. Read more on this topic: Hezbollah-Israel, an endless war in whose interest? (10) Hezbollah-Israel: An Endless War in Whose Interests? (9) Hezbollah-Israel, an endless war serving whose interests? (8) Hezbollah-Israel, an endless war serving whose interests? (7) Hezbollah-Israel, an endless war serving whose interests? (6) Hezbollah-Israel, an endless war serving whose interests? (5) Hezbollah-Israel, an endless war serving whose interests? (4) Hezbollah-Israel, an endless war serving whose interests? (3) Hezbollah-Israel, an endless war serving whose interests? (2) Hezbollah-Israel, an endless war serving whose interests? (1)

Lebanon and the region are virtually on "pause." President Donald Trump indicated at the start of the weekend that he had granted Iran a one-week reprieve as a goodwill gesture during the funeral of former Supreme Leader of the Republic Ali Khamenei, who was killed in the massive American-Israeli bombardment that triggered the war launched against the Iranian regime on February 28. The pause will end on July 11, the date announced on Saturday for the resumption of talks between Washington and Tehran, which will take place in Islamabad. On the agenda: sanctions, frozen Iranian assets, and the nuclear file. The revival of these negotiations comes as several signs fuel uncertainty about whether the "negotiation" process initiated by the memorandum of understanding signed between the United States and the Islamic Republic can lead to any constructive outcome. Among these signs, which could work against the Iranian regime: developments in the Lebanon and Strait of Hormuz files, and above all, the emergence in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq of converging official rhetoric that tends to confirm the entire region is entering a new phase of its history, completely at odds with the Khomeinist ideological project. Regarding the Lebanese scene first: reports from the Lebanese daily Nidaa el-Watan (close to sovereigntist circles) indicate an American decision to dissolve the "mechanism" — the ceasefire monitoring committee formed following the November 2024 cessation of hostilities agreement — and replace it with a tripartite Lebanese-American-Israeli security committee, chaired by a senior American officer, former mechanism head General Joseph Clearfield, who has already begun his mission with meetings this week with Israeli leaders to examine the practical arrangements for deploying the Lebanese army in the two "pilot zones" provided for under the framework agreement signed by Lebanon and Israel in Washington under the aegis of Secretary of State Marco Rubio. The launch of the dynamic envisioned in this framework agreement will unquestionably serve to cut short the Islamic Republic's desperate efforts to cling to the Lebanese card. Revelations on the impact of the US maritime blockade As for the Strait of Hormuz file, the Revolutionary Guards' hegemonic ambitions — their stubborn insistence on imposing control over this waterway — are being undermined by the convergence of American and European positions on this issue. More broadly, the international community refuses to allow any toll or right of passage to be imposed on ships transiting the strait. On Saturday, the French and British leaders reaffirmed their readiness to establish a multinational force to ensure freedom of navigation at Hormuz. In this context, a senior British official paid tribute to the position of the Sultanate of Oman, which declared itself ready to guarantee the security of vessels along the corridor running parallel to its coastline. Since the start of this war, the Islamic Republic has been attempting to exploit its ability to cause disruption in the Strait of Hormuz in order to demonstrate that it can hold the global economy hostage if its desire for full control over the area is not taken into account. However, reports published at the end of this week by the New York Times indicate that the Pasdaran's threats to close the Strait of Hormuz have their limits in the current context. Citing four senior Iranian officials, the US daily reported that the Iranian president and the Governor of the Iranian Central Bank had informed the Supreme Leader, prior to the signing of the memorandum of understanding with Washington, that the American maritime blockade had largely paralyzed the entire Iranian economy. They had further claimed that the country's reserves of essential food and medicine would be exhausted by the end of August due to the blockade. The Iranian president is said to have threatened to resign if the regime did not give the green light to a deal with the United States, stressing that the prolongation of the economic crisis caused by the blockade "threatened the country's stability" and that consequently "the government is no longer able to manage the situation." It was following this two-pronged urgent move by the president and the central bank governor that the Supreme Leader reportedly finally gave the green light to the negotiation process with Washington. It must be noted in this context that the demonstrated effectiveness of the maritime blockade imposed by the Trump administration, and the serious threat it could pose to the Iranian economy in the short term, effectively counterbalance and neutralize to some extent the leverage that the Revolutionary Guards are using to assert their dominance over the Strait of Hormuz. The card of control over this maritime route, which the Pasdaran still claim to hold, thus risks backfiring on the regime. Alarming report on Iranian nuclear activity Alongside the threat of a return to the maritime blockade — which Washington could resort to again should bilateral negotiations stall — the Iranian regime may soon face another source of tension and dispute related to the nuclear file. The Lebanese online outlet al-Janoubiya (close to the Shia opposition and hostile to the Khomeinist project) reports that a highly reputable American research center based in Washington, which closely monitors the evolution of Tehran's nuclear program (the Institute for Science and International Security, ISIS), has flagged a worrying and persistent activity at a major underground nuclear site built deep inside a rocky mountain. This highly secured clandestine site, which is said to house significant underground facilities and infrastructure — including uranium enrichment capabilities — has never been inspected by International Atomic Energy Agency inspectors. Known as the "Pickaxe Mountain," it was built deep within the rocky Zagros mountain range, nearly one kilometer from the Natanz uranium enrichment facility. The American network Fox News emphasizes that the continued activity at the site in question "raises serious doubts about Iran's compliance with its commitments" as outlined in the memorandum of understanding signed with Washington. One of the clauses of this document stipulates a freeze on all nuclear activity during the 60-day negotiation period. If it is confirmed that work is indeed continuing at the "Pickaxe Mountain" facility, as one of the ISIS experts claims, this would constitute a serious violation of the memorandum of understanding… And, above all, a telling indication of the lack of seriousness and credibility of the commitments made by the mullah regime. Next article: Three rhetorics for one paradigm

At every decisive moment in Lebanon’s history, the same rhetoric resurfaces: threats to bring down the government, warnings of yet another collapse, and an escalating political confrontation. Yet the question is no longer whether Nabih Berri can topple the government. The real question has become far simpler: what comes next? What is the alternative? What vision does he offer for Lebanon? And how is the country expected to emerge from its crisis if it once again slips into the vicious cycle of political and institutional paralysis? If opposition to the framework agreement genuinely stems from a desire to defend Lebanon’s sovereignty, then those who reject it should put forward a clear, realistic and workable alternative. Simply calling for the government’s downfall without presenting the slightest roadmap offers the Lebanese nothing but deeper uncertainty. But the more fundamental question lies elsewhere: is the government really the problem? If, according to this reasoning, the government has lost its political legitimacy, what about the Parliament from which it derives that legitimacy? If the solution is to bring down the executive branch, why should those advancing this argument not carry it through to its logical conclusion by calling for the dissolution of Parliament as well and returning to the people through early parliamentary elections? The issue then becomes even more uncomfortable. Can Nabih Berri guarantee that he would be returned as Speaker of Parliament if new elections were held? Can the Shiite duo guarantee that the current political balance within Parliament would remain intact? If the answer is uncertain, the Lebanese are entitled to ask whether the real objective is to save Lebanon or simply to preserve a political balance that has remained in place for years. Democracy cannot be practiced selectively. Anyone demanding a change of government should also be prepared to accept a complete reconfiguration of political power and submit it to the judgment of the ballot box, rather than deciding which institutions should change and which should remain beyond any form of political accountability. Experience has shown that the policy of obstruction has never built a state. On the contrary, it has contributed to weakening one. Whenever Lebanon glimpses an opportunity to rebuild its institutions, the language of threats and escalation returns, as though the objective were to keep the country at the mercy of political power balances rather than under the authority of the Constitution. The most troubling aspect of this rhetoric is that it leaves the Lebanese with only one choice: either submit to the political conditions imposed by the Shiite duo or watch the government fall and the country descend into yet another crisis. This can no longer be viewed as ordinary political opposition. It has become a permanent instrument of pressure on the state and its institutions, with the Lebanese people alone bearing the cost. In democratic systems, governments are challenged within the framework of institutions and brought down only when a constitutional majority rallies behind a clear alternative program. They are not overthrown because obstruction has become a method of governing, nor because institutional paralysis has been turned into a bargaining tool. If Speaker Nabih Berri opposes the framework agreement, that is his political right. If he seeks to bring down the government, that too is a constitutional right, provided the necessary conditions are met. But the Lebanese are equally entitled to ask him a simple question: what comes next? Who will form the next government? On what parliamentary majority will it rely? What will its program be? How will it revive the economy? How will it rebuild southern Lebanon? And how will it restore the confidence of both the Arab world and the international community? If the real objective is merely to acquire another lever of pressure with which to impose political conditions, the Lebanese can no longer bear such an approach. They have already paid an exorbitant price through the paralysis of state institutions, the collapse of the economy, and Lebanon’s isolation from its Arab and international environment. It is no longer acceptable for their future to remain hostage to the calculations of political forces. The time has come to move beyond the logic of “either we get what we want, or there is no state.” The state belongs to no one. The government is not a prize to be claimed. Parliament is not the exclusive preserve of any political force. And legitimacy can be renewed only through the will of the people. If those who invoke democracy truly believe in it, they should be willing to embrace it in its entirety, not only when it serves their interests. They should accept that it is the people who decide who governs, who serves as Speaker of Parliament, who remains in power, and who leaves it. Threatening to bring down the government whenever circumstances change, while refusing even to consider a comprehensive reconfiguration of political power, no longer convinces the Lebanese. They have grown weary of political blackmail. They are weary of the paralysis of the state. And they are weary of seeing their future turned into a bargaining chip in an endless political struggle. Lebanon today needs statesmen who build institutions, not politicians who threaten to bring them down whenever their decisions run counter to their own interests.