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Nada Hamadé Mouawad, how have you managed to become so unpopular in the circles of Naim Qassem, in Dahiyeh and beyond? Did you have any idea that the signature you affixed in Washington on June 26 would trigger demonstrations across several parts of the country? So much so that our army had to intervene overnight to restore order on the road leading to Beirut International Airport. And all this simply because you fulfilled your patriotic duty: using diplomacy to secure the withdrawal of the IDF from the southern regions it still occupies. How criminal it is to deny the obvious! It is not armed resistance that can liberate Jabal Amel, but negotiations and diplomatic talks conducted under American auspices. True, this is hardly glorious, but that is the reality; it may not be inspiring, but it is the best available course. Since we have not won a decisive victory that would enable us to impose our terms on Israel, there is no point in swaggering. Let us also say this plainly: the so-called "believing resistance" (al-muqawama al-mu'mina) has done nothing but expand the occupied zone, multiply the destruction, and drive our fellow citizens from their ancestral homes. Like at Waterloo... But first, let us recall the terms of the agreement reached on June 17 between Iran and the United States, and the profound sense of abandonment experienced by Lebanon's sovereigntists when they learned—with great shock—that the Lebanese file had been included in the deal. To the dismay of Lebanese nationalists, Hezbollah supporters could rejoice: Tehran, having us by the throat, was now in a position to decide our fate. Lebanon had fallen into the hands of the Revolutionary Guards. Among the sovereigntists, resignation set in. American policy was denounced as ambivalent, if not outright treacherous. People recalled the lamentable episode of the battleship USS New Jersey in September 1983. Others blamed the rivalry between Vice President JD Vance and Secretary of State Marco Rubio. In short, the sovereigntist camp was devastated. Then, suddenly, on June 26, like a jack-in-the-box springing open, the official Lebanese state found the courage to act. Once the Tripartite Agreement had been signed, southern Lebanon could finally be freed from Israeli occupation while simultaneously putting an end to foreign tutelage, Iranian interference, and the rule of the Yellow Militia. And so, in Beirut—as once at Waterloo—"hope changed sides, and the battle found a new soul." The jubilation in Dahiyeh would prove short-lived: barely nine days. Nada Hamadé Mouawad and Simon Karam had just stolen Hezbollah's victory. Danger and Resolve It was a direct rebuff to Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi. He had exploited the Lebanese "pretext" far too often to violate our sovereignty on the international stage. Now he found himself left empty-handed, after making concessions on Iran's nuclear program in exchange for securing a seat at the negotiating table in Bürgenstock, near Lucerne, Switzerland. Consequently, the Lebanese Army, backed by our Western allies, must remain on high alert. Now that our diplomats have crossed the Rubicon, our armed forces cannot afford to lose their nerve. Indeed, did Nabih Berri, "sensing that his end may be near," not immediately warn of fitna? A word that signifies far more than mere discord—it amounts to a barely veiled threat to derail the Framework Agreement. As for David Hale, the former U.S. ambassador to Lebanon, he has cautioned that Hezbollah will initially do everything in its power to sabotage the agreement. According to him, it will not hesitate to resort to violence and terrorist methods. For its part, Lebanon's executive leadership—which appears to have regained the initiative—is fully aware that the country is entering a period of severe turbulence. Yet nothing of lasting value can be achieved without taking risks. More resolve, and still more resolve, and our country may finally succeed in breaking the forced marriage that Hezbollah imposed upon it with the Achaemenid power.

On the surface, the situation in Lebanon — and, to a lesser extent, across the region — appears to be on "pause"… However, appearances can be deceiving, because in practice the pieces of the puzzle are gradually and quietly being put into place by players who are clearly in control of the game. To grasp the true scope of the game currently being played out in the Levant and well beyond, one need only draw connections between the maneuvers and actions — or "moves," as English speakers would say — of the decision-makers working to reshape the region's new geopolitical landscape. If one were to identify a broad guiding thread running through current developments, it would be the increasingly pronounced isolation of the Iranian regime on the international stage. Reuters reported on Friday, July 3, that NATO leaders, gathered in Ankara, are expected to declare that Iran must never be allowed to acquire nuclear weapons. But even more damaging for Tehran, NATO will explicitly call on the Islamic Republic to "fully respect freedom of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz." The European Union also adopted a firm stance along the same lines this week, rejecting any Iranian attempt to impose a transit fee — under the guise of "services rendered" — on vessels using this international waterway. This last point is currently the main battle cry of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and Iran's key power centers. Speaking in a threatening tone laced with insulting arrogance toward the Trump administration, Iran's Parliament Speaker and chief nuclear negotiator Mohammed Bagher Ghalibaf bluntly declared on Friday: "We will not allow the United States (!) to interfere in the Strait of Hormuz, and we will continue implementing navigation rules in the strait." Iran's stance on this issue is increasingly infuriating the US administration, prompting an American official to say 48 hours ago that "President Donald Trump's patience with Iran is beginning to wear thin." Other senior US officials told the Axios news site that American negotiators have made clear to Iranian delegates at this week's talks in Doha that Iran's insistence on imposing a transit fee in the Strait of Hormuz risks torpedoing the framework agreement between Washington and Tehran. The firm position taken by the Trump administration on this matter has the full backing of the EU, further deepening the Islamic Republic's isolation. These snags in the negotiation process with Tehran were likely raised during the phone call President Trump had on Friday with Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, who may be received at the White House in the near future. Lebanon: Iran's trump card The second trump card to which the Iranian regime is desperately clinging — while wallowing in a state of complete denial in the face of new realities — is Lebanon. Mr. Ghalibaf pressed the point on this front, firmly putting the "Lebanon chapter" back on the table — referring to the memorandum of understanding signed with Washington in mid-June, as well as the agreement recently reached in Switzerland with US Vice President JD Vance — which reportedly grants Iran a direct role in the process of resolving the situation in the South, thereby reinforcing its grip on the Lebanese chessboard. In a statement made on Friday, Mr. Ghalibaf unabashedly invited "all Lebanese parties to work toward implementing the Lebanon-related provisions of the memorandum of understanding (signed with Washington), as doing so would prevent discord"(!) It should be recalled, however, that this Iranian attempt to reassert its tutelage over Lebanon came to nothing, following the framework agreement signed in mid-June by Lebanon and Israel in Washington, under the auspices of Secretary of State Marco Rubio. This roadmap provides for a gradual mechanism under close American supervision, with the ultimate goal of withdrawing Israeli forces from southern Lebanon and deploying the Lebanese army, concurrent with the dismantling of Hezbollah's militant infrastructure. The sovereignty-driven dimension of this framework agreement — which completely decouples the Lebanese settlement process from the American-Iranian talks in Islamabad — was underscored once again on Friday by President Joseph Aoun and Lebanon's foreign minister, Joe Raggi. Receiving a university delegation and representatives of the Order of Physicians and the Lebanese Maronite Order, the head of state reaffirmed that the document signed between Lebanon and Israel enables the Lebanese state to take the southern file back into its own hands, ensuring that Lebanon alone is master of its decisions on this front and that it negotiates any settlement itself, rather than having a third country do so on its behalf. In a thinly veiled jab at Hezbollah, President Aoun noted that those who oppose the framework agreement signed with Israel react this way "because they have grown accustomed to living under tutelage…" Echoing the same sentiment, Lebanese Foreign Minister Joe Raggi reaffirmed the government's determination to take sole responsibility — free from any foreign diktat — for bringing the war to an end. Faced with the firm stance adopted by the Lebanese authorities, the Islamic Republic sees the Lebanese card slipping from its grasp and is consequently attempting to torpedo the framework agreement with Israel by orchestrating opposition to the document and trying to remotely stoke street unrest in order to bring down Nawaf Salam's government — with the aim of securing the agreement's cancellation, which would pave the way for a revival of Iranian involvement in Lebanon's internal political game. But here too, President Aoun was very firm on Friday, stressing that resorting to street pressure and internal strife in order to bring down the government constitutes a "red line that cannot be crossed." The multinational force project These attempts by the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps to reactivate their tutelage over Lebanon are running up against another major obstacle: the proposed establishment of a multinational force set to take over from UNIFIL, whose mandate expires at the end of the year. French and Italian leaders have already begun taking steps in this regard and enjoy the full support of the United States. A senior French official moreover paid tribute on Friday to the "positive role played by the US in Lebanon." And to further cement this crisis-resolution dynamic — one that is unfolding without the Islamic Republic — the European Union has taken care to emphasize its full support for the Lebanese-Israeli framework agreement and for the choices made by the Lebanese authorities in this regard, stressing the need to implement the terms of the document signed in Washington. The Iranian regime thus finds itself stripped of all its main cards, one by one. Confronted with such a situation, the radical wing of the regime is baring its claws, as illustrated by the frontal attacks it launches almost daily against the so-called "moderate" wing — most specifically against the sitting president and the speaker of parliament. And in the wake of such setbacks, certain political circles in Iran are reportedly floating a plan aimed at giving the Revolutionary Guards a new lease on life, albeit in a more "acceptable" or "tolerable" guise. Except that only a few naive or shamelessly opportunistic factions can still be fooled by such political posturing coming from the radical wing of the Islamic Republic.

One can only welcome the visit to Lebanon by Asaad al-Shaibani. For the first time, it was the visit of a Syrian foreign minister to a sovereign, independent state rather than to a mere arena or subordinate territory. At least in the way it was conducted, the visit reflected President Ahmed al-Sharaa’s desire, as the man ultimately in charge in Damascus, to build a different kind of relationship between Lebanon and Syria, one freed from the burdens of the past, particularly those that have weighed on both countries since Hafez al-Assad seized power in Syria in November 1970. Does this signal a lasting shift in Syrian policy, or merely a transitional approach while the new leadership consolidates its rule by building a strong, cohesive state, much as Hafez al-Assad did even before the coup he carried out in the autumn of 1970 under the banner of the “Corrective Movement”? The simplicity of Asaad al-Shaibani’s demeanor immediately brought to mind the conduct of Syrian officials who used to visit Lebanon under Hafez al-Assad and later his son Bashar. The contrast could hardly have been sharper. Bashar never concealed his ignorance of Lebanon. During a meeting with an Arab foreign minister who had come to deliver a message from his country’s head of state, he described Lebanon as “a fragile country,” seemingly oblivious to the fragility of Syria itself, a country already carrying within it the seeds of an internal explosion. That explosion came in 2011. The country’s internal wars continued until the end of 2024, when the Syrian president fled to Moscow. The curtain then fell on a regime that had endured for more than half a century by relying on Alawite control of the military and security apparatus, and, through them, of virtually every aspect of the country’s economy. What came back to me most vividly during Asaad al-Shaibani’s visit to Lebanon were the rounds of negotiations held in the summer of 1973 between Syrian Foreign Minister Abdel Halim Khaddam and his Lebanese counterpart, Fouad Naffah. Their purpose was to reopen the Lebanese-Syrian border, which Hafez al-Assad had ordered closed in protest against the Lebanese Army’s attempt to put an end to the armed Palestinian presence in Lebanon, a presence that Syria had fostered because it ultimately served its ambition of plunging the country into turmoil. I can still picture Khaddam arriving at the Park Hotel in Chtaura to meet the Lebanese foreign minister. On that occasion, the Syrian foreign minister insisted on entering Lebanese territory in a convoy protected by members of the Syrian military police. Armed personnel saluted him as he entered the hotel, in a carefully choreographed display intended to trample on Lebanese sovereignty. Everything has changed today. Asaad al-Shaibani observed every rule of diplomatic courtesy with meticulous care. Time will tell whether this approach reflects a lasting policy on the part of Syria’s new leadership toward Lebanon, a country that Hafez al-Assad viewed through the slogans of “one people in two countries” and the “unity of the two tracks.” It is equally clear that every step taken by the Syrian foreign minister had been carefully choreographed, including his visit to Tripoli, through which Ahmed al-Sharaa sought to demonstrate the extent of his popularity in Lebanon’s Sunni cities. By sending Asaad al-Shaibani to Lebanon, Ahmed al-Sharaa knew he was under close Arab and international scrutiny and that he had to show the utmost respect for Lebanese sensitivities toward Syria. After all, it is no secret that the former Syrian regime, an ally of Hezbollah, played a role in persecuting all Lebanese communities, particularly Sunnis and Christians. As for the Druze, the regime had long ceased to attach much importance to them after the assassination of Kamal Jumblatt in 1977, a message whose implications Walid Jumblatt understood all too well. There is little point in listing the Sunni figures whom the Assad regime helped eliminate, from Grand Mufti Hassan Khaled to Rafik Hariri. Nor is there any need to recall the assassinations of two Lebanese presidents, Bashir Gemayel and René Moawad, or the many Syrian actions aimed at preventing Lebanon from signing the May 17 Agreement with Israel in 1983. The visit of Syria’s foreign minister to Lebanon can certainly be viewed positively. It marked a clear departure from the past and reflected profound change in Syria. Yet one essential reality cannot be overlooked: the world will be convinced that genuine change has taken place only when that change becomes evident inside Syria itself. Reaching out to Lebanon’s Christians carries little meaning without a comparable opening toward Syria’s own Christian community. The same applies to Syria’s Druze, who continue to suffer the consequences of the recent clashes with local armed groups that sought to bring them to heel with the backing of the new regime. More importantly, Ahmed al-Sharaa’s government is now working to reshape the very fabric of Syrian society so that it conforms to the values promoted by Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham and the factions allied with it during the years they controlled Idlib. This transformation is unfolding quietly, without fanfare. Among other measures, laws have been enacted banning the import of musical instruments as well as alcoholic beverages. The new Syrian approach toward Lebanon is certainly to be welcomed. Even so, it remains premature to speak of genuine change in Syria unless the new leadership sets about building a cohesive society free from all forms of intolerance and dogmatism. In the end, Ahmed al-Sharaa’s and Asaad al-Shaibani’s real test will be inside Syria, not in Lebanon. Syria, now rid of the Alawite regime of the Assad family, is expected to become a state reconciled with itself and with all the components of the Syrian people: Sunnis, Christians, Druze, Alawites and Ismailis. When that happens, provided that it also extends to the Kurds , the Lebanese will believe that profound change has truly taken root in Syria and that normal relations between the two countries can finally be established.

A researcher in biophysics once wrote: “I do not read power solely through politics; I also read it through matter. In the laboratory, we learn a truth that people recognize from everyday life: pressure does not affect every material in the same way. Apply pressure to glass and it may shatter. Apply it to rubber and it bends. Apply it to living tissue and it may absorb the pressure, adapt to it, and repair itself. The very same force may destroy one structure while strengthening another. The difference lies not only in the pressure itself, but in the internal structure that receives it.” This is precisely where Israel’s and the United States’ reading of Iran, and of the Middle East more broadly, falls short. Like every power that places supreme confidence in its technological superiority, Israel assumes that history can be engineered through pressure: strike harder, kill more, tighten sanctions, deepen isolation, and the adversary will eventually retreat. Yet this is a mechanical reading of human societies. It imagines nations as inert objects that, if subjected to sufficient pressure, will inevitably break. Some states, however, do not collapse under pressure, nor do they emerge from it unscathed. Instead, they absorb it, adapt to it, and redistribute it, transforming an external crisis into a fragile internal equilibrium, and an international confrontation into a prolonged social burden. Iran, despite its successive crises, did not translate external pressure into collapse. It transformed it into adaptation, absorbing pressure, turning it into time, and then converting time into negotiating leverage. This is where the more sensitive questions begin. The real issue is no longer whether pressure succeeds or fails, but where its effects ultimately go, and who ends up bearing the cost. In Iran’s case, few would dispute that the state has managed, over many years, to endure exceptionally high levels of external pressure: severe economic sanctions, political isolation, regional security tensions, and cumulative pressures on multiple fronts. This capacity to endure under pressure is often presented as evidence of national strength. Yet that conclusion alone does not capture the full picture. Alongside the state’s ability to endure, mounting indicators within Iranian society point to a profound cost: the erosion of the middle class, declining purchasing power, widening social imbalances, and an ever-growing gap between the state and society. These are not merely economic indicators. They reveal that pressure has shifted from the international system into the very fabric of society itself. In other words, the pressure did not disappear; it simply changed location. It should also be remembered that the Iranian people attempted to rise up against the policies of their dictatorial, theocratic regime, only to be met with savage repression, as though the regime were confronting an invading army rather than its own citizens. This is the heart of the matter. Dictatorial regimes equipped with powerful instruments of control do not eliminate pressure; they redistribute it. Part of it is absorbed by the institutions of the state, another part is transferred to society through the economy and the hardships of everyday life, with little regard for the cost borne by the people, while a third portion is managed beyond national borders through regional influence and indirect instruments of power. In this sense, what is commonly described as “resilience” becomes a far more complex phenomenon. It is not the heroic resilience portrayed by official narratives, because it reflects not only the capacity to confront external pressure, but also the ability to manage its cost both domestically and abroad. The essential question therefore becomes: who pays the price, and who decides how that price is distributed? However effective this approach may appear in the short term, it raises a political and moral question that cannot be ignored: does this appearance of stability reflect the strength of the state, or the regime’s ability to preserve itself by distributing the burden unevenly across society? That question becomes even more compelling once we move from abstract analysis to the realities of geopolitics. Iran has repeatedly redirected the pressure imposed upon it by channeling it through regional arenas connected to it, whether directly or indirectly. It is within this context that Lebanon’s position must be understood. Lebanon has never been merely a passive recipient of regional developments. At the same time, it has never possessed the means to insulate itself from them. The fragility of its internal structure, the complexity of its political system, and its economic vulnerability have made it particularly susceptible to pressures it cannot fully control. Iran has exploited this reality, turning Lebanon into a sphere of influence used to ease part of its own burden or rebalance it elsewhere. What is managed beyond Lebanon’s borders as a geopolitical confrontation or strategic equilibrium is translated within Lebanon into an immense political, economic, and social cost. Against this backdrop, the debate over the Framework Agreement becomes far more than a diplomatic detail or a temporary understanding. It is a test of Lebanon’s very place in the region: will it remain trapped within the cycle of reproducing regional power balances, or will it begin, however gradually, to reclaim the position of a state that exercises sovereign control over its own political decisions? For decades, Iran has used Lebanon as a sphere of influence and as a strategic foothold on the Mediterranean. Whenever it felt threatened, Lebanon became the preferred arena through which that threat could be diverted. Hezbollah was always ready to answer the call: from the “Had I Known” war of 2006, to the defense of Bashar al-Assad’s regime in 2012, to the support war of 2023, and above all the retaliatory war fought on behalf of Ali Khamenei in 2026, which brought unprecedented devastation upon Lebanon. Today, Hezbollah, backed by Nabih Berri, opposes the Framework Agreement in order to keep Lebanon as an arena and a bargaining chip that Iran can use to strengthen its negotiating position. The price, however, is paid by Lebanon as a whole, and by the Shiite community in particular, so that Iran can preserve its influence over the country. Restoring the true meaning of sovereignty requires rejecting this instrumentalization and reaffirming that decisions concerning war, peace, and the management of national risks belong exclusively to the institutions of the state, not to parallel structures that impose burdens upon society beyond its capacity to bear. From that perspective, the debate over the Framework Agreement becomes a genuine test rather than a technical detail. Either it is understood as a step, however incomplete, toward restoring the Lebanese state as the sole legitimate authority over national decision making, or it is derailed under the pretext of regional considerations, leaving Lebanon trapped in its familiar role: a country where the interests of others are managed instead of a sovereign state that determines its own course. What is unfolding today cannot be portrayed as a legitimate exchange of pressure between actors of equal standing. It constitutes a direct assault on the sovereignty of a state and on the rights of its society. Using Lebanon as a battlefield for settling scores or as an instrument of pressure in regional conflicts is neither a sovereign act, nor a legitimate political choice, nor an inherent right enjoyed by any domestic or foreign actor. It amounts to denying the Lebanese people their right to determine their own future while implicitly accepting that Lebanon should continue to serve as an instrument rather than a state. The consequences are anything but theoretical. They take the form of a recurring human toll, chronic economic exhaustion, the paralysis of state institutions, and the steady erosion of their ability to protect the population. The damage extends well beyond the present moment: infrastructure deteriorates, education declines, and the future of entire generations is traded away for calculations in which they have no voice. At this point, describing the situation merely as a “redistribution of pressure” is no longer sufficient. The real issue is that an unfair burden is being imposed upon a fragile country, reducing it from a state expected to pursue its own national interests to an arena where the interests of others are managed. Any discourse that presents this as “resilience” sidesteps a fundamental question: who pays the price, and by whose mandate? Restoring the true meaning of sovereignty requires rejecting this instrumentalization and reaffirming that decisions concerning war, peace, and the management of national risks must belong exclusively to the institutions of the state, not to parallel structures that impose burdens upon society beyond its capacity to bear. Ultimately, the problem is not that some states are able to withstand pressure better than others. The deeper problem is that such endurance is sometimes built upon shifting the burden onto weaker and more vulnerable places. At that point, any claim to moral or political legitimacy collapses. Pressure is not merely a test of strength. It is also a test of justice. And in Lebanon’s case, the injustice is unmistakable. A country is paying the price for conflicts it did not choose, while an entire society is expected to bear burdens far beyond its capacity and is denied even the right to reject them. This is a deadly structural flaw, and it must come to an end.

Thursday’s headlines in Lebanon were dominated by the visit of Syrian Foreign Minister Assaad Chibani to Beirut, where he met with all of Lebanon’s leading political and religious figures, as well as representatives of the country’s main sectarian parties – with the notable exception of Hezbollah. For those who lived through the years of Syrian tutelage over Lebanon – or occupation, as some prefer to describe it – the visit was anything but ordinary, as were the statements that accompanied it. One of the most noteworthy came from President Joseph Aoun, who said he remained “committed to fraternal relations” between the two countries, founded on “coordination, cooperation, and non-interference in each other’s internal affairs.” This visit cannot be seen in isolation. It comes amid a recent wave of threats from U.S. President Donald Trump suggesting the use of Syrian forces to disarm Hezbollah – a possibility that Syrian officials, including President Ahmad al-Sharaa, have repeatedly and categorically denied. Chibani’s visit therefore appeared intended to reassure Lebanon’s leaders on this point. It is also worth bearing in mind the framework agreement signed by Lebanon and Israel in Washington. The process excluded all Arab countries and reflected Beirut’s determination to keep the Lebanese track entirely separate from other regional issues. Syria’s new leadership is likely seeking to test the water and better understand the contours of the situation. Both in its symbolism and its substance, Chibani’s visit was met with a largely positive response on the Lebanese scene. He presented President Joseph Aoun with an invitation to pay an official visit to Syria. Statements emphasizing respect for the security and sovereignty of both countries were repeatedly made. The Syrian foreign minister repeatedly stressed Damascus’ determination to strengthen cooperation with Lebanon. As part of that effort, Chibani and Lebanese Prime Minister Nawaf Salam signed an agreement establishing a joint commission to deepen bilateral cooperation across all sectors, “in a manner that serves our shared interests,” as Salam put it. Meetings with a Wide Range of Figures Listing all the figures met by a Syrian minister during an official visit would no doubt be a tedious exercise, but it is nonetheless worth noting that he met a striking range of political and religious figures in a single day, including, notably (with Hezbollah excluded): President Aoun, Prime Minister Salam, Parliament Speaker Nabih Berri, Maronite Patriarch Bechara al-Rai, Grand Mufti of the Republic Abdellatif Derian, former Progressive Socialist Party leader Walid Jumblatt, Lebanese Forces leader Samir Geagea, Kataeb Party leader Samy Gemayel, Deputy Prime Minister Tarek Mitri, and Foreign Minister Joe Raggi. Chibani referred to Hezbollah only after his meeting with Berri, saying he remained “open” to such a meeting “if it serves the interests of both countries.” It should be recalled in this context that Hezbollah played a key role in supporting the former Damascus regime and has been fighting since 2011 against the groups from which Syria’s new leadership emerged. Clashes have repeatedly erupted along the border since the fall of the Assad regime in December 2024, between groups affiliated with the pro-Iranian party and Syria’s new security forces. While the minister continued his tour in Beirut, an explosion rocked a café in central Damascus on Thursday around 3 p.m., leaving at least seven people dead and 22 injured, according to the Syrian Ministry of Health. Syrian authorities said the device was “improvised.” The AFP reported that it was the deadliest attack since a church bombing in June 2025 that killed 25 people. The attack was claimed by the Islamic State group. A Coalition or Not Against the Washington Agreement? In Lebanon too, the signing in Washington last Friday of the framework agreement between Lebanese and Israeli representatives continues to stir controversy. Reports suggesting the possible formation of a four-way coalition to bring it down in Parliament – uniting the blocs led by Nabih Berri, Walid Jumblatt, Gebran Bassil’s Free Patriotic Movement, and Hezbollah – are beginning to unravel. In the wake of Bassil’s visit to Berri on Wednesday, which fueled speculation, Thursday brought an unexpected development from Jumblatt. In remarks to the French-language daily L’Orient-Le Jour , he said he would “not be part of a coalition to bring down the framework agreement,” while still describing the text as a “misstep” by the state and calling for its revision. Jumblatt reiterated his criticism on the sidelines of the Syrian foreign minister’s visit to his residence in Beirut, speaking in somewhat cryptic terms. He said he “preferred a balanced relationship with Syria to an agreement that could be worse than the May 17 accord,” referring to the 1983 agreement between Lebanon and Israel. It was eventually abrogated, under the influence of the former Syrian regime of Hafez al-Assad. Against this at best ambivalent stance from Jumblatt and the openly hostile position of Hezbollah, whose MP Hassan Fadlallah once again described the text as a “capitulation”, Thursday also saw several sovereigntist parties step up their support for direct negotiations with Israel and for the efforts of Aoun and Salam. In an interview, the Lebanese Forces leader said the agreement was the only viable path to securing Israel’s withdrawal from southern Lebanon, as well as Hezbollah’s disarmament, and the restoration of full Lebanese sovereignty. It should be noted in this context that Samy Gemayel and Michel Mouawad, head of the Independence Movement, met with President Aoun at the Baabda Palace, leading sizeable delegation. Both reaffirmed their support for the head of state. It is also worth noting a statement by Berri in an interview with a local newspaper on Thursday, in which he said he was “ready” for a compromise on the framework agreement, should there be the political will to do so. A potential political turning point? Negotiations after the funerals On Iran-U.S. negotiation track, the process has clearly been postponed until after the funeral ceremonies for former Iranian Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, who was killed in an Israeli strike at the very beginning of the war on February 28. The long-delayed funerals, originally scheduled for March, will last several days and are expected to be used by the Tehran authorities as an opportunity to rekindle a sense of allegiance among supporters of the Islamic Republic. Tensions between Washington and Tehran remain palpable. While Iran continues to assert control over the Strait of Hormuz, the United States on Thursday took a firm stance, insisting that conditions in the strait must return to their pre-war status – i.e. open to all navigation, according to statements reported by the al-Hadath channel. Also on Thursday, the UN Security Council held an emergency meeting over the war in the Middle East at Bahrain’s request. Meanwhile, Iran’s ambassador to the UN filed a complaint over recent remarks by Israel’s defense minister, who described Supreme Leader Mojtaba Khamenei as a “target to be eliminated.”

This essay explores the figures of crisis and catastrophe, tracing them from ancient cosmologies to the lived experience of a world shaken to its foundations. Bringing Greek, Biblical and Indian traditions into dialogue with the philosophy of Jan Patočka, it examines how civilizations have conceived disorder, collapse, irreversibility, and even the possibility of action when meaning itself begins to falter. Published here as a series of seven essays, this study follows a demanding yet essential line of inquiry: Is catastrophe a sudden rupture, a slow disintegration of the world, or the deepest truth of our historical condition? What follows is the third chapter. The Kali Yuga, or Protracted Catastrophe Within this perspective, the political does not constitute an autonomous sphere of sovereign decision. Rather, it represents a transitional moment within a cyclical order in which destruction and recomposition coincide. Far from interrupting the cosmic course of things, political power is itself inscribed within it as a modulation of disorder and its overcoming. Yet the epics, foundational though they may be, cannot by themselves exhaust the Indian conception of catastrophe. They must be complemented by the doctrinal and cosmological weight of the Purāṇas , which extend the epic intuition by conferring upon it a systematic scope. These texts establish a genuine architecture of cyclical time, in which cosmology becomes at once myth, theology, and a metaphysics of repetition. From the nineteenth century onward, India’s encounter with colonial modernity gave rise to a profound reassessment of Hinduism. Several reformers, most notably the founders of the Brahmo Samaj and the Ārya Samaj , waged an intellectual campaign against the Purāṇas , holding them responsible for superstition, idolatry, and the country’s spiritual decline. [1] Rammohan Roy, the founder of the Brahmo Samaj , advocated a return to the rational monotheism of the Upaniṣads , which he opposed to the ritual proliferation and polytheism of the Purāṇas . Swami Dayānanda Sarasvatī, founder of the Ārya Samaj , radicalized this position by calling for a complete return to the Vedas . In his view, only the Vedic religion, preceding all Purāṇic mythopoesis, embodied India’s primordial truth. Thus, to “depurāṇize” Hinduism meant to rationalize and purify it, reinserting it within a horizon compatible with science, morality, and modern reform. Yet Purāṇism found itself under pressure from both sides: challenged by reformers in the name of reason, and constrained by traditionalists in the name of order and liturgy. The Sanātanists, defenders of Sanātana Dharma , the Eternal Law, claimed to preserve tradition, yet their orthodoxy in fact sought to stabilize religion around a rigid and ritualistic canon, marginalizing the narrative and symbolic flexibility of the Purāṇic discourse. [2] Without explicitly rejecting the Purāṇas , they neutralized their cosmological force, reducing them to mere liturgical supports rather than matrices of meaning and becoming. Their conception of fidelity to tradition tended to freeze the universe into a fixed hierarchy, where ritual repetition prevailed over mythopoietic creativity. Between these two poles, Purāṇic thought, with its fluid imagination of cycles ( yugas ), dissolutions ( pralaya ), and rebirths ( sṛṣṭi ), was progressively silenced. Yet it embodied a wisdom of time and becoming of incomparable metaphysical depth: a vision of catastrophe understood not as rupture but as the immanence of the Kali Yuga within the very texture of temporality. It was precisely this intuition that thinkers such as Aurobindo Ghose, Ananda Coomaraswamy, and Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan sought to rehabilitate, in opposition to both the Samajists and the Sanātanists . Through their work, the Purāṇas once again became a metaphysics of time, a grammar of cosmic becoming, and a poetics of order and chaos. [3] To do justice to the Purāṇic legacy is to recognize within it the imagination as a genuine mode of thought, capable of articulating the human condition to the cosmic rhythm of Sanātana Dharma . It is not an archaic residue to be overcome, but a symbolic intelligence of the world, in which the catastrophic ceases to be an accident and becomes the immanent essence of living time. The Kali Yuga, announced at the end of the Mahābhārata with the death of Kṛṣṇa, belongs fully to the Purāṇic vision of time. This age, inaugurated immediately after the god’s departure (traditionally dated to around 3102 BCE), corresponds to the Age of Iron, the era of moral disorder, spiritual dissolution, and the withdrawal of dharma . Justice, truth, and virtue survive only as residual traces, mere fractions of their original force, while greed, falsehood, and violence become the dominant principles governing the world. The Sūrya Siddhānta , the classical treatise on Hindu astronomy, places the beginning of this age at the very moment of Kṛṣṇa’s death, while the Purāṇic tradition assigns it a duration of 432,000 human years: a unit of time measured on the scale of the cosmos, within which human history dissolves into the breath of Brahmā. [4] From this perspective, the Kali Yuga does not designate a singular destruction of the world but rather a protracted catastrophe, a permanent state of crisis affecting the cosmic order. The bond between the human and the divine gradually unravels. Catastrophe thus becomes an ontological condition, the expression of the slow disintegration of dharma , with no immediate possibility of restoration. [5] The death of Kṛṣṇa does not bring the world to an end. Rather, it inaugurates the age of fundamental disorientation, an era without immediate redemption, marked by the confusion of values, the eclipse of transcendence, and the withdrawal of meaning. The Kali Yuga is the age of catastrophe, not because of a sudden cataclysm, but because of the duration of disorder itself, through that slow and continuous corrosion which dissolves the very foundations of dharma , prefiguring the great pralaya , the ultimate dissolution, while simultaneously preparing, through its own collapse, the genesis of a new cosmic cycle. The Kali Yuga is an age of essential sadness. Whatever one may do, a melancholy remains in the background, an ontological veil cast over the heart of the world. This sadness is neither emotional nor moral. It is more primordial than Spinoza’s beatitude and more ancient than Heidegger’s anxiety. It is the fundamental tonality of the dark age. Sadness first, then its successive metamorphoses: disguise, repression, denial. It survives within all things, hides beneath the world’s frenzy, conceals itself within the endless circulation of desires, yet is never abolished. For the Kali Yuga is also the age of duplicity. Its sadness is genuine, yet always already betrayed by its own disguises. Sincerity itself becomes impossible because, the very moment it is experienced, it is reabsorbed into the play of its own simulacra. The world thus lives in forgetfulness of its own suffering, a forgetfulness endlessly renewed, endlessly frustrated, and endlessly necessary. Finally, it is the age suspended between two forms of salvation: individual, inward salvation, sought through bhakti and self-knowledge ( ātma-jñāna ), and cosmic salvation, awaited in the descent of the final avatar, Kalki, who brings the cycle to its close and restores dharma . At the very heart of disorder unfolds this double expectation: that of inner awakening and that of cosmic regeneration. The Kali Yuga, in its melancholy and duplicity, thus becomes the theater of fallen consciousness, yet also the matrix of hope: that interval during which the divine has withdrawn only so that it may return. Within the Kali Yuga, dharma , the principle of balance, justice, and cosmic order, survives only in residual form. The world does not collapse through a single cataclysm; rather, it slowly disintegrates through the continuous erosion of harmony. As the final dissolution approaches, it seems both to unfold and to defer itself. Catastrophe is constantly announced, yet never fully consummated. There is no apocalypse, only the persistence of an unfinished ending. This vision finds a remarkable echo in Hesiod’s theory of the Five Ages of Humanity in Works and Days . After the Golden Age, the reign of justice and proximity to the gods, each successive age, Silver, Bronze, Heroes, and finally Iron, marks a gradual deterioration of the human condition: the fracturing of cosmic order, moral corruption, and the forgetting of virtue. [6] The Age of Iron, the last and most wretched of all, corresponds directly to the Kali Yuga: the age in which social bonds dissolve, cunning, violence, and greed prevail, and humanity, in Hesiod’s words, lives “without shame or justice.” [7] In both visions, catastrophe is not a sudden rupture but an irreversible process of decline. The world distances itself from the divine not through violent destruction but through the gradual erosion of measure, the weakening of truth, and the deterioration of the cosmic bond. Where Hesiod speaks of the loss of Dikē, divine Justice, the Hindu tradition speaks of the withdrawal of Dharma . Yet one essential difference separates them. For Hesiod, time is linear and tragic. The fall appears definitive, without redemption or return. In Indian thought, by contrast, the Kali Yuga is merely one phase within the cycle, destined to be followed by the return of the Satya Yuga, the Golden Age. Darkness prepares the light; decline prepares rebirth. Thus, Hesiod presents a moral catastrophe without regeneration, whereas Purāṇic Hinduism conceives a regenerative cosmic catastrophe. End and beginning become indistinguishable within the very breath of time. The world draws ever closer to dissolution, yet at the very instant catastrophe appears about to be fulfilled, it withdraws once more. Its truth is that of a perpetual twilight, in which destruction remains both inevitable and endlessly deferred. Yet these deferrals are also veils falling away, folds of time turning back upon themselves. Time withdraws and contracts until Kalki appears, not as a gradual transition nor as a post-apocalyptic resurgence, but as a leap, an irruption of the divine into exhausted matter, like lightning crossing the night of a dying world. Kalki does not destroy. He transforms dissolution into a new beginning. After all, he is the avatar of Viṣṇu, not of Śiva: the principle of preservation and continuity within the cosmos, who comes not to annihilate the world but to bring it once again into harmony with the living rhythm of dharma . [1] On the reinterpretation of Hinduism in the context of colonial modernity and the critique of the Purāṇic traditions, see Brian A. Hatcher, Hinduism in the Modern World (London: Routledge, 2015), as well as David N. Lorenzen, Who Invented Hinduism? Essays on Religion in History (New Delhi: Yoda Press, 2006), both of whom examine the modern construction of “Hinduism” as a reformed and rationalized category during the nineteenth century. [2] On the emergence of the Sanātanist movement and its defense of Sanātana Dharma as an attempt to stabilize the Hindu tradition normatively in response to modernist reforms, see Kenneth W. Jones, Socio-Religious Reform Movements in British India (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989). [3] On the modernist and neo-metaphysical reinterpretation of the Purāṇic and epic traditions in response to the religious reforms of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, particularly the debates between reformist movements such as the Ārya Samaj and defenders of so-called Sanātana orthodoxy, see, in chronological order: Aurobindo Ghose, The Life Divine (1914-1919) and Essays on the Gita (1922), where an evolutionary and cosmological reading of Hindu temporality begins to emerge; Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, The Dance of Śiva (1918-1924), which reinterprets the Purāṇas as symbolic expressions of the cosmic rhythm of creation and destruction; and Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan, Indian Philosophy (1923-1927) together with The Hindu View of Life (1926), in which the Purāṇic traditions are reread as philosophical expressions of a metaphysics of becoming. Although working within distinct intellectual registers, these authors collectively contributed to shifting the Purāṇas from the status of mythological and religious texts toward a speculative philosophy of time, order, and cosmic chaos. [4] See Alain Daniélou, The Myths and Gods of India (Rochester, VT: Inner Traditions, English original edition 1991; French edition: Flammarion, 1992), and Shiva and Dionysus (Paris: Fayard, 1979). [5] From this perspective, the Kali Yuga should not be understood as a singular eschatological event but rather as a lasting intensification of the distance separating the cosmic order ( dharma ) from the human condition, thereby echoing certain Schellingian intuitions concerning catastrophe as immanent to time itself. The bond between the human and the divine gradually unravels, not through a sudden rupture but through the slow erosion of the very conditions that sustain order. Catastrophe thus ceases to be an identifiable event and becomes instead the structure of becoming itself, a prolonged modality of history in which the disintegration of dharma knows no decisive threshold of immediate restoration. On this dialogue between Indian cyclical temporalities and German speculative philosophy, see Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph Schelling, The Ages of the World ( Die Weltalter ), French translation by Jean-François Courtine and Emmanuel Martineau (Paris: Aubier, “Bibliothèque philosophique,” 1992), especially the fragments devoted to the internal division of the Absolute and the temporalization of the primordial ground. [6] On the progressive degeneration of the metallic ages and the rupture of the cosmic order, see Georges Dumézil, Heur et malheur du guerrier (Paris: PUF, 1969). Dumézil emphasizes that the Age of Heroes constitutes a specifically Greek exception within a broader pattern of decline otherwise closely related to Indo-Iranian traditions. [7] Works and Days , French translation by Paul Mazon (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, Collection CUF), verses 106-201; digitized edition, Bibliothèque nationale de France (Gallica), consulted on 14 May 2026.