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Homage
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By Michel Hajji Georgiou
Published Sep 6, 2026 - 13:31
The Argentine player, who brought his international career to an end on August 31, 2026, was nothing less than a magician of the stadiums. His journey, made of wonders, falls and redemption, may tell us something about our undiminished need for enchantment in a world that nevertheless claims to have rid itself of it. Announced a few weeks after the 2026 World Cup final lost to Spain, Lionel Messi’s international retirement inevitably stirred an emotion for which it is difficult to find many equivalents in the recent history of football. One would probably have to go back to Maradona, or perhaps to Cruyff or Pelé, to recover that sense that, with the retirement of a player, something disappears that extends far beyond the sport itself, as though a certain way of inhabiting football, perhaps even of believing in it, were also coming to an end. Far from the glacis of reason Enough of the endless statistics and the unbearable, tedious and sterile quarrels over “who is the greatest of all time.” The author of these lines has never been a fanatic of the round ball, nor, for that matter, of vertical rankings or hierarchies of merit in general, and consequently appreciates the talent of each player with the same sense of wonder as an eleven-year-old child. Besides, this particularly contemporary obsession with numbers ruins all the pleasure of the spectacle. And with good reason: the approach that consists in adding up goals, assists, Ballons d’Or, Champions Leagues, Copa América titles, World Cups… can only be reductive. On another register, it is not entirely unrelated to German-American philosopher Eric Voegelin’s critique of the modern Gnostic temptation: that of a form of knowledge convinced that it can imprison reality within a system and abolish whatever resists it. Records are probably one indicator of Lionel Messi’s genius. Yet so many other great players who made stadiums and hearts tremble, without achieving half of what he did, nevertheless remain eternal in our memories. What made them truly singular lies elsewhere, far from the glacis of reason. Something else was at work around them. Something belonging to a certain profound sense of transcendence that understanding can never fully grasp. This has been true of Lionel Messi for more than twenty years, since the day when, under the gaze of the “icon” Diego Maradona, he made his first appearance, in June 2006, on the World Cup stage in the colors of the Albiceleste against Serbia and Montenegro. That ineffable element that constitutes Messi’s genius, as it does that of others, may indeed touch upon one of modernity’s strangest paradoxes: the persistence of magic in a world that has constructed itself precisely against it. The disenchanted world Max Weber used the expression “disenchantment of the world” to describe the slow process by which Western modernity gradually subjected existence to rationalization, calculation, predictability and causal explanation. The world was no longer supposed to be traversed by obscure powers, signs, supernatural interventions or invisible wills; it was, at least in principle, to become intelligible. Unfortunately, modern sport, and more broadly the modern world inherited from globalization, fits perfectly within this dynamic. Today’s football, and not football alone, is probably one of the most quantified objects imaginable. The slightest gesture is measured, and everything is carefully calculated and modeled. From mathematics to artificial intelligence, raw talent now depends more on science than on enchantment. What is human in its spontaneous, even wild, relationship with the invisible that springs from the heart is disappearing before our eyes, in favor of the squaring of the VAR circle. It is, in a sense, the murder of sport in the name of greater rigor and fairness… even though the euthanasia of this share of sublime spontaneity ultimately produces glaring injustices of its own. One need only revisit some of the controversial decisions of the 2026 World Cup to see it. Paradox of paradoxes, Lionel Messi was himself, at the outset, a child of this technical modernity, to which he certainly owes part of his exceptional career. His body, too small by expected standards, was corrected through hormone treatment. Identified very early, his talent was taken in hand by an institution that organized his training, nutrition, physical development and integration into an already globalized sporting machine. Nothing, in appearance, could have been further removed from the old heroic narrative. At first sight, the story seems closer to dystopias in the vein of Gattaca than to myths and messianic narratives. And yet the old narrative did indeed return, and with an almost embarrassing insistence. Since the beginning of his career, Lionel Messi has been placed under the microscope. But the more people labored to explain and demystify him, the less they succeeded in entirely dissipating the impression produced by some of his gestures. The man simply cannot be circumscribed and reduced to an accumulation of data. At an age when most great players retreat into the shadows, he continues to surprise. To astonish, even, by bringing to sport that element of the senseless which escapes the quasi-robotic hypersystematization of the world. It is probably there that one must seek this elsewhere that characterizes Messi. In the survival of magic at a time when even the spaces that once allowed the positive expression of a humanity made of flesh and blood are gradually being “disciplined” by the hypnotic attraction of a new puritanical Gnosis in the name of modernity. The Messiah made by the machine Although he emerged, in a sense, from the machinery of the Matrix , Lionel Messi constitutes in himself a challenge to this ready-to-wear model. A kind of alter ego of Neo from The Matrix , thrown into a simulation governed by parameters that claim to calculate everything. The Argentine’s destiny gradually took on, almost despite himself, the form of a messianic narrative. The pun on his name would be too easy had it not been ceaselessly revived by his own story: that of the fragile child whose body seemed intent on denying him the fulfillment to which his talent destined him. Then that of exile at a very young age to Barcelona, adoption by a foreign city, an almost unreal ascent, worldwide recognition, followed by this strange difficulty in being recognized by his own… For a long time, Argentina maintained a relationship of hainamoration with its prodigal child. His results, his talent, his brilliance mattered little… he still had to answer one merciless question: why wasn’t he Maradona? The comparison was admittedly inevitable, but it was also profoundly unfair. Everything separated the two men in their way of being in the world. Maradona carried Argentina with everything in it that was passionate, contradictory, excessive and theatrical. He spoke, provoked, fought, fell, returned, mingled football with his private life, his anger, his political commitments… all the way to his own destruction. His very body seemed to become one of the places where the contradictions of his country were played out. Maradona was the very incarnation of what the world expected from football: a rebellious soul, sometimes pushing the game to the point of immorality, but within a kind of footballing gigantomachy. Maradona was epic. And, above all, he had placed his country at the summit of world football in 1986. Messi offered none of that. He was silent, at times almost absent from the story others were constructing around him, an absence long interpreted as a flaw. Almost erased, devoid of personality. That, moreover, was what the two giants Maradona and Pelé reproached him for: a lack of leadership, being too smooth. A kind of miracle test-tube baby of the stadiums. The boy from Rosario was also criticized for not singing the anthem loudly enough, for not being Argentine enough, for having been “manufactured” by Barcelona, and then, naturally, for failing to win with the national team what he won almost continuously with his club. The unfulfilled prophecy The dramatic loss to Germany in the 2014 World Cup final, followed by the Copa América finals of 2015 and 2016, had gradually transformed that suspicion into an accusation. When he missed his penalty against Chile in 2016 and subsequently announced that he was leaving the national team, he was nevertheless already one of the greatest players in football history. Yet his story remained strangely unfinished. The sense of incompletion had little to do with his honors. It concerned instead that quasi-archaic necessity continually imposed upon modern heroes: to bring their initiatory journey to completion. In Argentina’s colors, Messi shone, then fell heavily. But he did not rise again. He did not fulfill the prophecy. And, in the eyes of his people, this reinforced the sense of hainamoration: a fallen god remains a god, after all. But with the added burden of what his worshippers regard as an intolerable substratum of humanity and, therefore, something perfectly detestable: his flaws, his weaknesses. Argentines loved Maradona despite his spectacular downfall and his fallible humanity. But that was because he had “earned” the right to such a downfall, because it had somehow become acceptable after Mexico 1986. Messi, by contrast, did not yet have the right to fall, because he had not yet reached the summit. No, the prophecy had not been fulfilled. It was even becoming a caricature. So Messi returned. But he still had to wait for his redemption. It took the 2021 Copa América at the Maracanã for this relationship of suspicion, expectation and disappointment with his public and his people truly to begin changing. And above all it took the 2022 World Cup for the story to acquire that almost excessively perfect form that no one would have dared write without appearing to indulge in a screenwriter’s contrivance. Strangely, Maradona had died in 2020. It was as though a kind of oppressive national curse had been lifted. At the same time, the Argentine people needed a substitute father figure, and the pressure was thereby only redoubled. But perhaps mixed with a little tenderness this time? What happened in Qatar in 2022 is all the more interesting because Messi himself appeared slightly different. He protested more, answered provocations, lost his temper, spoke with a violence of which few had thought him capable, and even let slip that now famous “¿Qué mirás, bobo?” at the Dutch, to Argentina’s amusement. Buenos Aires finally discovered, belatedly, what it had always expected from him. A little Maradona in a great deal of Messi. But Messi did not become Maradona. And perhaps that was precisely where the true reconciliation occurred: Argentina stopped asking him to be. From 2022 onward, Messi no longer needed to embody another model of national genius. For his country too, he could finally become what he had already been everywhere else: Messi. Simply. The final act of the prophecy Granted, the triumph of 2022 could have constituted a perfect ending. But, as with Maradona, the final act of heroic prophecy is the fall. No one really expected anything extraordinary from Messi anymore in 2026. At 39, he was widely regarded as one of the “tired heroes.” The fall from the Capitol had come with the bitter episode of his departure from FC Barcelona and his misadventure at PSG. He was now playing only in the American league, in Miami’s colors… on the periphery of the footballing world, in the distant lands of soccer . And the new generation was already there, ready to send its ancestors off to Bicêtre. Yet this 2026 World Cup, which seemed destined to be nothing more than an epilogue, turned into one last sensational blaze of glory. Argentina reached the final once again, with Messi, at 39, restored as its “historic leader” and its recourse in decisive moments, achieving something not unlike what Roberto Baggio had done for Italy in 1994, at… 27: a perpetual deus ex machina . Baggio failed at the gates of triumph against Brazil after practically carrying Italy all the way to Pasadena. His penalty, sent over the crossbar, would leave behind one of the cruelest images in World Cup history: a man standing motionless, head bowed, hands on his hips, while Brazil celebrated its victory. The man who had “died standing.” The Italian imp never knew apotheosis. Yet this symbolic death, far from erasing his tournament, eventually became part of his legend. History was kinder to Messi, despite a campaign of hatred directed at him, mixed with accusations of cheating and favoritism, against a backdrop of controversial refereeing decisions and acts of unsporting conduct by his team, just as it had once been with Maradona. Kinder still, in fact. A final in a sixth World Cup on the verge of retirement, capped by an outstanding individual performance? That is precisely where the magic of the Messi phenomenon lies, and where it defies reason and its avalanche of statistics. Genius cannot be imprisoned within a sum of parameters and variables. Even optimal physical condition cannot by itself explain what the entire world witnessed. And what does it matter if his story reminds us that the hero, however mythical, cannot abolish the sinister influence of Saturn. The re-enchantment of the world For beyond the prophecy fulfilled, from ascent to fall, with its share of happiness and misfortune, the Argentine offered the world one final lap that belongs to art, if not to a form of Homeric poetry. With Lionel Messi’s withdrawal from the international stage, a little of the world’s magic disappears… until another providential hero returns to enchant the stadiums. For more than twenty years, Messi embodied the coexistence of two worlds we had thought incompatible: that of the extreme rationalization of modern sport and that, far older, of the hero, the sign, expectation and enchantment. When Messi leaves, something of this contradiction suddenly becomes visible. Other prodigies have already emerged, but perhaps, at the very moment when one of its last great representatives leaves the stage, we discover just how much we continue to need transcendence. The modern world has therefore probably not abolished enchantment. It has merely displaced it. For ninety minutes at a time, this man called Lionel Messi, who embodied it on football pitches, now leaves after having accomplished everything. And even more.
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Have We Become Stupider?

Or Are We Experiencing a Transformation in the Structure of Knowledge?
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By Mona Fayad - Published Sep 5, 2026 - 20:01
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The question “Has the world become stupider?” frequently returns in contemporary debates about digital media, search engines, and social networks. On the surface, it seems simple. Yet behind it lies a deeper issue concerning the very nature of knowledge: how it is produced, how it is transmitted, and how it is consumed. Perhaps “Have we become stupider?” is not the most accurate question. A better one might be: Is knowledge still being transmitted in a way that allows it to be understood and made productive? Do most readers still go back to the original texts? Or do they turn instead to summaries and to what is said about those texts through material circulating among readers? One key to understanding this phenomenon lies in the work of British psychologist Frederic Bartlett, who conducted a series of experiments in the 1930s on what he called “serial reproduction.” In these experiments, one person would be asked to hear a story and then retell it to someone else, who would in turn retell it to a third person, and so on. The results were striking: with each new transmission, the story was not conveyed as it had originally been told, but was reformulated. Some details were omitted, others were exaggerated, and still others were replaced by elements that better suited the recipient’s background, experience, and culture. By the time the chain had passed through enough people, the original story had become something entirely different. This simple model reveals a fundamental truth: memory is not a neutral container, but a mechanism of reconstruction. When knowledge passes through multiple intermediaries, it is not “preserved” but “reproduced.” Here we begin to see the resemblance to our contemporary world, and with it the fear that we may be becoming stupider. In the age of digital media, knowledge no longer travels through oral transmission, but through chains of mediation: an article is summarized, then quoted, then reposted as a short post, before being further reduced to a sentence or a headline. In this context, we might borrow a metaphor that appeared in a journalistic text: a library whose books are gradually replaced by summaries, then by summaries of summaries, until the reader is left facing layer upon layer of reduction. We might call this the “raccoon chain”: the raccoon does not read the original, but rummages through what remains of it. It is worth clarifying that the choice of the “raccoon” is not arbitrary. The metaphor symbolically condenses a cognitive condition that is becoming increasingly entrenched. This animal, which lives on the fringes of cities and rummages through garbage bins, does not produce its own food but feeds on the leftovers of what others have produced. Despite its practical intelligence and its ability to pry things apart, pick through them, and seize what is useful, it does not understand what lies before it. It treats things simply as material available for immediate use. This is what knowledge begins to look like in an age of serial reduction: texts are shortened, then shortened again, until all that remains are scraps of meaning, rearranged and circulated without any genuine connection to their source. At that point, we have not merely moved away from the original. We have entered a new phase in the production of information or knowledge, in which the cognitive actor is no longer a reader or a thinker, but a collector of fragments of meaning who redistributes them in forms designed for rapid consumption. “Raccoon culture,” then, is not merely a description of superficiality. It is an accurate description of the degradation of the knowledge chain itself: from creation to summary, from understanding to formal processing, from ideas to something resembling only their faded trace. Yet this phenomenon cannot be understood apart from the technological structure that governs it. Here Marshall McLuhan becomes relevant, with his famous formulation: “The medium is the message.” The problem lies not only in content, but also in the form through which that content is transmitted. Contemporary digital media do not simply convey information. They reshape it according to the logic of speed, condensation, and fragmentation. Long texts become unsuitable for consumption, while an idea becomes acceptable only if it can be compressed into a few shareable lines. This transformation produces a striking paradox: we live in a time when access to knowledge is no longer difficult. It is excessively easy. And with that excessive ease comes what might be called a “cognitive illusion”: reading a brief passage or a quick summary can be enough to make a person feel that they have grasped an idea. Yet this feeling of possession is not necessarily accompanied by deep understanding, or by the ability to reconstruct or critique that knowledge. This is where we encounter what might be called the “semi-educated”: people who possess the signs of knowledge but not its structure, its vocabulary but not its internal logic. The problem becomes even more complex when viewed through the lens of attention. Instead of remaining in a state of sustained concentration, as in traditional reading or prolonged reflection, the mind now exists under continuous informational bombardment: notifications, clips, headlines, and successive waves of content. This does not merely fragment attention. It reshapes it according to a logic of constant jumping between short units of meaning, rather than the gradual and cumulative construction of an idea. I am reminded here of a joke that we used to tell and that was widely circulated during the days of popular demonstrations. It vividly illustrates the process of reduction and reshaping of content. After the occupation of Palestine, many popular demonstrations took to the streets chanting, “Down with the Balfour Declaration!” The joke was that by the end of the demonstration, the slogan had become, in Arabic, “Let one fall from above,” a completely different phrase that retained something of the original slogan’s rhythm and sound. This image may help bring us closer to what happens in everyday language when knowledge is transformed into short messages that are collectively repeated. A demonstration begins with a precise political slogan. Through repetition, collective immersion, and sonic rhythm, it gradually turns into a completely different formula. The new version may preserve the rhythm and emotional charge of the original, while losing its meaning and original significance. What remains is no longer the meaning, but the emotional energy of the phrase. Here, in another form, we encounter what Bartlett observed: what matters is not merely what was said, but how it was retold and how it was reinterpreted within a changing social context. If we bring these strands together, we might say that what we are experiencing today is not so much a “collapse of intelligence” as a transformation in the conditions under which intelligence operates. The human mind has not changed radically, but the environment in which it functions has changed profoundly: from an environment that allowed slow accumulation to one that imposes the rapid and fragmented reproduction of knowledge. This transformation creates a permanent tension between two kinds of thinking: reflective thought, which requires time, and rapid thought, which demands an immediate response. Seen in this light, the question “Have we become stupider?” is partly misleading. It may be more accurate to say that we are increasingly exposed to conditions that make deep thinking less stable, or less possible, and knowledge more vulnerable to fragmentation and recycling. As for stupidity, if the term can be used, it may not be a quality of the mind at all, but rather a side effect and a characteristic of the cultural structure that has emerged. It is a technology that reshapes our relationship with the world. Thus, rather than seeing this as a decline in human capacities, we might understand it as a transformation in the “knowledge environment”: an environment in which it has become easy to know something, but harder to truly understand it in depth.
Opinion
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By Youssef Mouawad - Published Sep 5, 2026 - 13:25
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In 2010, Israel violently intercepted the Mavi Marmara, a Turkish ship chartered by a humanitarian NGO to bring aid to the Gaza Strip, which was under Israeli blockade at the time. This was the last straw, and the incident brought the simmering hostility between Erdogan's government and the Jewish state out into the open. (AFP)
The war has not yet ceased in our south, and already it threatens to break out among our neighbors. In other words, we live on borrowed time, lurching from one conflict to the next. And for good reason! The bombing of a Syrian base very nearly escalated into an all-out clash between Ankara and Tel Aviv. That was on August 18, and Benjamin Netanyahu didn't mince his words: his country would not tolerate a Turkish military foothold that could spread into southern Syria. The warning was all the more forceful given that eight strikes had targeted the Abu al-Dhuhur air base, just 70 kilometers from the Turkish border. It's worth recalling, too, that since the fall of Bashar al-Assad in December 2024, Erdogan has become the chief mentor of the new Syria under Ahmed al-Sharaa, helping rebuild its armed forces and turning it into a strategic partner. This is no longer Hafez al-Assad's Syria Was it this renewed tension between Ankara and Tel Aviv that prompted a meeting between Syria's top diplomat, Assaad Chaibani, and Mossad chief Roman Gofman, in Jordan on August 23? Yet this quiet parley did not spark outrage across the Arab world the way Anwar al-Sadat's surprise visit to Israel did in 1977. A taboo was officially broken—and indeed, who would have imagined such talks taking place under the Baathist regime? Israel might have been expected to welcome this, but contrary to expectations, it halted neither its airstrikes nor its territorial incursions, as seen on August 27 in Quneitra. The fact is, things have changed. Under Hafez al-Assad, Syria was a regional power that, while not exactly formidable, was feared by its immediate neighbors, Arab or otherwise. No one wanted to pick a fight with it, which allowed it to pursue, within certain limits, an assertive foreign policy that often bordered on provocation. As a result, thanks to the autonomy it exercised and the room to maneuver it granted itself, Syria had become, at least geographically, a buffer zone between an "Erdoganist" Turkey flaunting its unabashed brand of Islam on one side, and Israel, a state Jewish to its core, on the other. But now, in a country worn down by Baathist mismanagement and ravaged by years of civil war, Turkey has begun staking its claims—and will inevitably find itself face to face with an Israel that occupies part of Syrian territory. What can we expect? Given the outsized egos of both Netanyahu and Erdogan, and assuming both leaders remain in power, we should brace for an epic showdown across Syrian, Lebanese, Jordanian, or even other territories. This will be a fight of feints and dodges, of underhanded tactics as well as head-on attacks, close combat, and rising tensions right up to the breaking point. And this despite a September 2025 report from the Congressional Research Service concluding that direct confrontation between Turkey and Israel remains unlikely, precisely because both states are well aware of the cost such a war would entail. Still, in the realm of conflict studies, leaders and other elites don't always act rationally! All the more so since, in the eyes of Israeli observers, the slogan now popular in Anatolia—"Make Turkey great again"—hardly reassures the Zionist state. Washington will find it increasingly difficult to contain or keep apart two adversaries already gearing up for battle. Turkey, the new Iran? Yes, that's one hypothesis, but only in a face-off with Israel, since Syria has overnight become a zone where 'two security perimeters overlap' — the Turkish and the Israeli, the Muslim and the Jewish. And it can't be ruled out that Shiite militancy, that mobilizer of "proxies," might end up allying itself, even if only temporarily, with a 'Muslim Brotherhood version' of political Islam championed by Ankara! So we would have, against all odds, a Hezbollah backed by its former enemy, Ahmad al-Sharaa, an Islamist who emerged from Jabhat al-Nusra and Hayat Tahrir al-Sham! Against a common adversary, a reversal of alliances is always legitimate and opportune. But this would only be a tactical alliance, dictated by the exigencies of the moment, one that couldn't presume anything about the future. With Arab nationalism now out of the picture, Turkey won't settle for economically capturing the Syrian market of 25 million consumers: it will want to wield political influence in Damascus, and to that end will deploy its military and security apparatus. Since the shaky power of the Syrian president can't fulfill certain sovereign functions or oversee the various branches of the state, it will inevitably turn to the expertise of its northern neighbor. Does this mean Turkey will get sucked into the spiral of 'announced belligerence'? Everything points that way, and we can already see the early signs of a spiral reminiscent of the US involvement in Vietnam under Lyndon Johnson. Indeed, if the Syrian state intends to rebuild itself, it will first need an army capable of quelling the centrifugal tendencies of the Alawites, the Druze, and other factions calling for the country's breakup. And it's up to Ankara to provide that and to bolster the central authority based in Damascus. But Israel, which has gotten into bad habits in Syria and intends to keep its freedom of aerial action there, cannot tolerate an army built along NATO lines that could serve as a proxy for a neo-Ottoman venture. And Lebanon, from primary stage to secondary stage? A new stage is now set for a new script that will define new rules of the game! What will become of Hezbollah, caught in a trap? Well, in that scenario, it could benefit, even if only partly, from Damascus's logistical support — support it has sorely lacked since the fall of Bashar al-Assad. And perhaps, through a shift in the tectonic plates, Lebanon would move from being the initial stage to being merely a secondary stage of a regional conflict. But frankly, that would do us a lot of good!
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Storm warning in the European sky
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Roger Barake
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The abandonment of the Future Combat Air System — known by its French acronym SCAF — announced this week by France and Germany after years of tensions, represents far more than the failure of an industrial program. It exposes the deep contradictions now shaping the construction of an autonomous European defense capability, at the very moment when the continent is seeking to free itself from its strategic dependence on the United States. At the heart of this wreck lies a question that has never found a consensual answer: is Europe capable of producing, through a common effort, the instruments of its military sovereignty, or does it remain a juxtaposition of competing national interests? A Project Born of a Historic Ambition Officially launched in 2017 by France and Germany, and later joined by Spain, the SCAF was intended to become the cornerstone of European defense. The objective went far beyond the design of a simple fighter jet. The program aimed to create a “system of systems” combining a new-generation fighter, accompanying drones, advanced sensors, electronic warfare capabilities and a digital architecture allowing the battlefield to be permanently networked. In the minds of its promoters, the SCAF was meant to symbolize the emergence of European strategic autonomy in an increasingly unstable world. Nearly a decade later, the assessment is harsh. Despite billions of euros committed to preliminary studies, the partners never managed to overcome their fundamental differences. The French in the Dock The failure of the program immediately reignited criticism of Dassault Aviation and its chairman and CEO, Éric Trappier. In some German and European political circles, the head of the French aircraft manufacturer is portrayed as one of the main figures responsible for the deadlock. His critics accuse him of defending an overly national vision of the program, incompatible with the logic of European cooperation. According to this interpretation, Dassault sought to retain exclusive control over the critical technologies of the future combat aircraft, refusing to genuinely share leadership with its German and Spanish partners. This criticism is all the sharper because the French group held a special position in the negotiations. Emmanuel Macron and Éric Trappier in front of a Rafale mock-up in Greek colors. (AFP) Unlike its partners, Dassault could point to recent and comprehensive experience in designing a modern combat aircraft: the Rafale. For many German actors, this expertise was used as an argument to impose an unbalanced relationship within the program. Dassault, however, rejects this interpretation. For several years, it has repeated that the problem is not European but industrial. According to the company, a fighter jet cannot be designed through constant compromises among several companies and several states. Its reasoning is simple: responsibility cannot be separated from authority. If a manufacturer is tasked with developing the main aircraft, it must also have the corresponding decision-making power. A computer-generated image of the SCAF bearing the roundels of the French Navy. From this perspective, the SCAF did not fail because of a lack of European spirit, but because of a governance structure unable to arbitrate between the partners’ contradictory requirements. Its supporters stress that the recent history of Europe’s defense industry is full of programs slowed down by political compromises, artificial workshare arrangements and national rivalries. They also point out that the Rafale, designed under French leadership, is now regarded as one of the continent’s main industrial and export successes. Two Irreconcilable Visions of Europe The debate over the SCAF in fact goes beyond Éric Trappier’s personality alone. Since the beginning of the program, two conceptions of European defense have been in conflict. The first, often associated with Berlin and the European institutions, favors the sharing of expertise, industrial integration and the pooling of technologies. A mock-up of the SCAF, which was to be produced through a partnership between France, Germany and Spain, while Dassault insisted on retaining prime contractor authority. (AFP) The second, more strongly defended in Paris, holds that cooperation must not lead to the dilution of strategic know-how or the loss of national sovereignty. This divergence is clearly reflected in operational requirements. France requires an aircraft capable of operating from aircraft carriers and taking part in the airborne component of its nuclear deterrent. Germany shares none of these constraints. As for Spain, it primarily seeks to preserve its place in the European aerospace industry, a presence confirmed by its participation in Airbus. From the outset, the project therefore carried ambitions that were sometimes incompatible. The Italian and British Choice of GCAP The United Kingdom and Italy have already taken another path. They made a different bet. Contrary to some common assumptions, Rome did not reject European cooperation. It simply favored another model of partnership. Together with the United Kingdom, Italy is now taking part in the Global Combat Air Programme, or GCAP, which Japan has also joined. More pragmatic, the British and the Italians joined forces with the Japanese to produce their “NGF,” or “New Generation Fighter.” This choice rests on several factors. First, the historical ties between the British and Italian defense industries have been particularly strong since the Eurofighter era, the joint fighter produced with Germany that enjoyed a certain degree of export success. It should not be forgotten that Italy, through Leonardo, is linked to the British giant British Aerospace, or BAE, in the production of weapons systems and aircraft construction. Leonardo also inherits a long-standing collaboration between Agusta and Westland, two British firms specializing in helicopters. Then, Rome feared it would occupy only a marginal position in a program dominated by France and Germany. Finally, Japan’s arrival profoundly changed the economic equation. It brought additional funding, advanced technological expertise and access to a major market. In the eyes of many Italian officials, GCAP offered more industrial influence and greater commercial prospects than the SCAF. Europe Facing the Trump Paradox The failure of the SCAF comes in a particularly sensitive context. For several years, and even more so since Donald Trump’s return to the White House, European leaders have insisted on the need to strengthen their strategic autonomy. The American F-35, shown here in its short take-off and vertical landing version. Uncertainty surrounding the American commitment to NATO has pushed many governments to increase military spending and to call for a more integrated European industry. Yet the abandonment of Europe’s main aerospace program produces exactly the opposite effect. Instead of converging toward a common platform, Europeans now find themselves divided between several competing projects. Industrial fragmentation risks leading to duplicated investments, scattered resources and, paradoxically, prolonged dependence on American systems such as the F-35, already chosen by several European countries, including Germany, the United Kingdom, Poland, Belgium, Norway and the Netherlands. The Problem May Not Be Dassault It is tempting to look for a single culprit behind the failure of the program. Yet a broader analysis leads to a different conclusion. The SCAF reveals above all the structural limits of European cooperation in defense. Unlike the United States, Europe has neither a federal government capable of imposing arbitration, nor a single military doctrine, nor a main customer comparable to the Pentagon. Each European state retains its own strategic priorities, industrial interests and budgetary constraints. In this context, the disagreements between Dassault, Airbus, Paris and Berlin appear less as an anomaly than as the symptom of a deeper problem. Nor should it be ignored that Europe has already traveled a long road toward technological autonomy. Earlier bilateral cooperation projects proved to be commercial and technological successes: the Franco-British Concorde, Jaguar and Lynx and Gazelle helicopters, as well as the Franco-German Alpha Jet trainer aircraft, used by the Patrouille de France. The examples are numerous. The Eurofighter Typhoon already offered an alternative to the Rafale. The result of cooperation between London, Berlin, Rome and Madrid, it enjoyed solid export performance. But the real commercial and industrial success remains Airbus, the European consortium that not only broke the near-monopoly of the United States in civil aviation — excluding the USSR, of course — but also surpassed today’s only current civil competitor, the American company Boeing. Airbus could never have come into being without a common European political decision. The project remains a milestone in European integration, on the same level as the Maastricht Treaty or the creation of the euro. Alas, history will remember that alongside these successful partnerships, others never moved beyond preliminary negotiations. A Lesson for the Future History may remember that the SCAF did not fail because it lacked funding or technology. It failed because its promoters never managed to answer a fundamental question: who was actually supposed to lead the program, and in whose interest? The industrial players defended their expertise. Governments protected their national interests. Political leaders invoked Europe while pursuing sometimes contradictory objectives. Taken separately, each of these behaviors may appear rational. Collectively, they led to the abandonment of the very project that was supposed to strengthen the continent’s strategic integration and power. At a time when Europeans are questioning their security in an increasingly unstable international environment, the failure of the SCAF is a severe warning. It is a reminder that common defense cannot rest solely on political declarations. It also requires a shared willingness to give up part of one’s national prerogatives in favor of a collective objective. More than the Ukrainian conflict and the Russian threat, more than the economic crisis and the scarcity of funds, more than the unfounded Euroscepticism of a few radical leaders, it may ultimately have been this willingness that was missing. The Consequences for the Middle East The failure of the SCAF is not only a setback for Europe’s defense industry. It could also have significant repercussions in the Middle East, a region that remains one of the world’s main markets for fighter aircraft. For two decades, the Gulf states and several Levantine countries have played an essential role in the commercial success of the European aerospace industry. Rafale sales to Egypt, Qatar and the United Arab Emirates helped ensure the long-term viability of the French sector. For its part, the Eurofighter notably equips Saudi Arabia and Kuwait. Facing Europe and America, China is catching up technologically as best it can and has managed to produce a stealth aircraft, the Chengdu J-20, “Mighty Dragon,” for its People’s Liberation Army. The SCAF was supposed to allow Europe to preserve this presence over the long term by offering, by the 2040-2050 horizon, a platform capable of competing with future American and Asian systems. Its abandonment now opens a period of uncertainty. On the one hand, France may be tempted to continue developing the Rafale family alone, or to develop a national successor. Such an option would preserve its strategic autonomy but would mechanically reduce the economies of scale that a common European program would have provided. On the other hand, the GCAP, led by the United Kingdom, Italy and Japan, could establish itself as Europe’s main next-generation competitor. The Gulf monarchies, historically close to London and already users of the Eurofighter, will closely follow the development of this program. This fragmentation, however, could weaken Europe’s overall position vis-à-vis the United States. The F-35 currently enjoys a considerable advantage: it is produced in large numbers, backed by the world’s leading military power and integrated into a vast operational ecosystem shared by many Western allies. The more Europeans divide themselves between several competing programs, the harder it becomes to rival that critical mass. Another major competitor: Russia’s Sukhoi Su-57. A few countries, such as Algeria or India, ventured into this project, which remains essentially at the trial stage. For Middle Eastern countries, this situation could result in greater diversification of suppliers. Some will continue to favor American systems, others will place their bets on European platforms, while a few actors may be tempted, in the longer term, to explore emerging alternatives from Asia, as China and South Korea have begun acquiring new stealth technologies and the alloys used in engine design. Beyond commercial considerations, the disappearance of the SCAF raises a broader question: what place does Europe intend to occupy in the Middle East’s security architecture over the coming decades? The export of a fighter aircraft is never merely an industrial transaction. It creates lasting partnerships, logistical dependencies, cooperation in training, maintenance and intelligence, and sometimes even strategic alignment. Decisions regarding sources of arms procurement are an eminently strategic exercise. The American F-35, for example, was first exported to Israel, the United States’ main ally, while Turkey was excluded from the project — and therefore from the supply of components — and deprived of its $1.4 billion prepayment, because Mr. Erdogan chose to acquire the Russian S-400 anti-aircraft missile system. By giving up its main joint aerospace project, Europe therefore risks losing more than an industrial program. It could lose part of its ability to exert political influence in a region where competition among great powers continues to intensify. The main handicap for the Russians and the Chinese remains their technological deficit. It is especially visible in electronics and engines. In this photo, the black smoke emitted by the engines of this Su-57 betrays a design dating back to the 1960s.

Leo XIV's encyclical on AI: Tower of Babel or Holy City (2/3)

To illustrate his point and give it a biblical dimension, Pope Leo XIV uses, in his encyclical Magnifica humanitas on the digital age and Artificial Intelligence (AI), a metaphor: humanity must choose between building a new “Tower of Babel” or building the “Holy City.” The story of the Tower of Babel is a biblical episode from the Book of Genesis. Shortly after the Flood, while all human beings spoke the same language, they set out to build a city and a tower whose top would reach the heavens, in order to make a name for themselves. Then God confused their language so that they could no longer understand one another, and scattered them over the face of the earth (Genesis 11:1-9). The myth proved remarkably fertile in the history of ideas and inspired reflections on the origin of linguistic diversity, the power of collective effort, the sin of pride, the totalization of knowledge, and more. The theme of the “Holy City,” introduced in the Book of Nehemiah, closes the New Testament and occupies a central place in the work of Saint Augustine. The Holy City symbolizes everything that is humanly and divinely possible and desirable: peace, justice, relations of friendship between Christ and his saints, doctrinal fidelity, and so on. For the Christian faith, it is up to humanity to rise above itself in order to build this City, following the major orientations of the Church’s social doctrine. The irresponsibility of “Realpolitik” Yet, describing the world in which we live, Leo XIV observes that, far from all the promises nations made after the Second World War, and the cry of “Never again war” that Europe had proclaimed, “the logic of armed balance and deterrence seems to be returning and imposing itself.” “But unlike the bipolar scenario of the Cold War,” the Pope adds, “the multiplication of actors and fronts of conflict today makes this logic increasingly fragile. The intensification of confrontations leads to asymmetric and ‘hybrid’ wars, waged also on the economic, financial and digital fronts, with the use of disinformation and campaigns that fuel fear in order to influence public opinion. In many countries, including countries of the Global South, the increase in military spending is presented as the only response to an uncertain future or to perceived threats, while the real cost is borne by the poorest, who see resources allocated to health, education and social services reduced. “Behind all this,” Leo XIV insists, “lies a false ‘realism,’ based not only on the well-established logic of force, but also on a cultural and anthropological conviction, as though war were inevitably part of human nature. It has always been so, people say, except for brief interludes, and it will always be so! The problem is therefore no longer peace, which has been lost as a reference point in the international landscape, but how and when to act militarily, while claiming that it would be irresponsible not to prepare for inevitable confrontation. What is truly irresponsible is Realpolitik, this form of political ‘realism’ that sows in consciences and in culture resignation to inevitable war, and that considers peace and dialogue to be utopian or irrational positions that ignore the risks at stake.” (§205) The mode of production of the digital economy On another level, Leo XIV elaborates on the mode of production of the digital economy. It rests, he says, “on the silent labor of millions of human beings, employed in activities that are barely visible but essential: data labeling, content moderation — often of very harmful content — and model training. In many cases, these are young people, mostly women, who work laboriously for poverty wages. To this invisible fatigue is added another, even more brutal one: the extraction of the resources needed to produce the devices and microprocessors on which AI depends.” “In certain regions of the world,” the Sovereign Pontiff stresses, “children and adolescents work, in dangerous conditions, crushing the materials from which rare earths are extracted. Bodies marked, mutilated, used so that the flow of computation may never be interrupted. In addition, criminal networks use online platforms, messaging systems, anonymous payments and profiling techniques to recruit, control and move victims of trafficking, often minors, turning men and women into ‘data’ to be tracked and ‘packages’ to be moved within the same digital circuits that sustain a large part of the global economy.” He adds: “This reality deeply challenges the moral conscience of our time. It is not enough to invoke efficiency, nor to celebrate the benefits of innovation, if they rest on a chain of exploitation that remains deliberately invisible.” Peace, the fruit of justice and charity For Pope Prevost, “peace is not a naïve hope nor a mere absence of war,” but “the fruit, always possible, of justice and charity.” Illustrating this statement, Leo cites J.R.R. Tolkien, the great British Catholic writer of the 20th century, who describes our responsibility through the words of Gandalf, one of the protagonists of The Lord of the Rings trilogy: “It is not our part, however, to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succor of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till.” For us, whose arable lands and olive groves are sprayed with glyphosate and phosphorus, these words should resonate particularly strongly. Next article: Against the post-humanist illusion, the capacity for relationship and love (3/3) Read also on the same theme: Leo XIV’s Magnifica humanitas, a Foundational Text on AI (1/3)

At Baysarieh and the Palais Bourbon, a Wind of Revolt…

At the very moment that a conference was being held in Paris at the French National Assembly, giving a voice to our free Shiite fellow citizens*, a village in southern Lebanon, perched 180 meters above sea level, was making itself remembered. On Friday, June 5, a spirit of defiance arose in Baysarieh: a scuffle broke out between local residents - mostly Twelver Shiites and supporters of Nabih Berri - and Hezbollah militants who wanted to install rocket launchers in the middle of the village. The Lebanese Army had to intervene to separate the opposing sides and restore order. A video captured the collective clash which, in a supreme irony, took place in a street adorned with pistachio-green banners bearing the colors of the Amal Movement! The incident occurred at the very moment when the Emergency Operations Center of the Ministry of Public Health informed us that Lebanon had suffered 3,558 deaths and 10,870 injuries since March 2, the date on which Hezbollah reignited the fuse, supposedly to avenge the execution of Iran’s Supreme Leader. Some will say that this is not too high a price to pay for the Iranian support that contributed to the liberation of South Lebanon and to that of Al-Aqsa Mosque. Exasperation Is Spreading Baysarieh, however, was not the only entity to rear up in protest across the country. At the same time, as though they had coordinated their actions, the President of the Republic and the Prime Minister “mutinied” against Hezbollah’s prevailing narrative. Joseph Aoun told CNN that Iran had no right to use Lebanon as a bargaining chip, that Naim Qassem did not represent Lebanon, and that the only sensible option was negotiation to bring a definitive end to the state of hostility between Lebanon and Israel. Nawaf Salam, for his part, pushed back by reminding everyone that Lebanon was not a battlefield where others could settle their scores and that the people of the South should not have to pay the price of “calculations over which they have no control.” Under the circumstances, all that remained was for Speaker Nabih Berri to speak out. Yet we shall draw a veil over his remarks, dictated as they are by the reverential fear that Hezbollah inspires in him. In any case, Baysarieh has already spoken on his behalf, in the name of the Amal Movement and of all Shiites outraged by the absurdity of the continuing fighting and by the monopolization of power by the Iranian-backed militia. As elsewhere throughout Lebanon, exasperation is spreading and becoming widespread in the face of destruction and population displacement. The seemingly immovable Nabih Berri may refuse to endorse the agreement reached in Washington, but his electoral base no longer appears willing to bear the cost of Naim Qassem’s reckless adventures. Waiting So Long Before Overturning the Table! Until recently, Lebanon’s official circles had remained discreet. One had to be careful not to offend the Resistance; it was to be handled with kid gloves. Out of respect and consideration for Hezbollah’s sacrifices, one was not supposed to tarnish its image as a liberator. But suddenly, a paradigm shift! The narrative is no longer the same. It is as though an “epistemological break” had occurred - that is, a radical change in the way reality is perceived, breaking with the previous discourse and the clichés imposed upon us by the Iranian party and its enforcers. This change alone is a sign of liberation, for over many years the Executive had adopted Hezbollah’s rhetoric as its own. As a result, our republican state resembled more a Commedia dell’arte performance than a serious polity. Our leaders had become little more than grimacers and actors, laboring to defend the theses of the Party of God - theses they inwardly rejected. So, to hell with the delicacy that has long surrounded the issue of direct negotiations with Israel. Tensions will evidently rise another notch, and a process of emancipation will begin. It may go so far as to officially compile and publish the list of serial crimes committed by the Party of God. Thank you, Baysarieh; thank you, Palais Bourbon. The fear that Hezbollah once instilled in its own community, as well as in certain political circles, no longer prevails. *Conference: “Lebanon Between Peace and War: State Legitimacy and the Role of Civil Society,” French National Assembly, Paris, June 5, 2026. The speakers, who held Hezbollah and the Iranian “holy alliance” responsible for the current catastrophe, called for the restoration of the rule of law.

Iran-USA: the blunder of leaks in Iranian media
By
Taline Becharraoui
Published

Is the transitional 'memorandum of understanding' intended to end the war between the United States and Iran really close to being finalized? The triumphalist announcement made by President Donald Trump about an 'imminent deal' with Iran has already been undermined by 'leaks' in Iranian state-controlled media, which continue to proclaim that the Islamic Republic got everything it was seeking: control of the Strait of Hormuz, the immediate release of frozen funds, the lifting of sanctions, and American investment to revive the Iranian economy… A post by Trump on his social media platform abruptly set the record straight. However, it seems unlikely that this will prevent a deal from being reached — a view reinforced Friday evening by an announcement from the Pakistani mediator, who officially confirmed that the two sides had reached an agreement. So what happened during this long day? Friday in the Levant began under the most promising of signs. 'We have just reached a very good agreement to end the war with Iran, and once the documents are finalized — which should happen within the next few days — we will probably have a signing, perhaps in Europe,' President Trump declared from the Oval Office, as reported by AFP. This announcement by Donald Trump, which has a familiar ring to it, generated enormous ink — in both the American and Iranian press. As for the former, it widely reported that the deal would be signed soon: Bloomberg News wrote that the document would be signed at the G7 summit in Geneva, Switzerland, on Sunday. According to Axios, Vice President JD Vance's visit to Switzerland is already being arranged in anticipation of the signing. The American outlet highlighted both the Qatari and Pakistani mediation efforts that apparently made this breakthrough possible. Indeed, still according to Axios, the Qatari mediator signed the 'agreement in principle' with Iranian Foreign Minister Abbas Araghchi in Tehran. The American and Iranian versions The Iranian press, true to its habits as regime-controlled media, did echo the strong possibility of an imminent deal — but went into considerable detail about what the terms of the truce would supposedly be. According to these outlets, Iran would have secured continued control over the Strait of Hormuz, the release of its frozen assets (figures of $24 billion, or at least half that amount, are being floated), the lifting of sanctions and the American blockade on ports, the withdrawal of U.S. forces from the region bordering Iran, as well as the right to continue uranium enrichment. According to the Mehr news agency, ballistic missiles are not mentioned in the text, and the framework agreement allows a six-month period to reach a final deal. Reports coming out of Tehran also indicated that a final decision had not yet been made by Iranian authorities, denying that the signing had been scheduled for Sunday. It was these media 'leaks' that proved to be the fly in the ointment, triggering Donald Trump's fury on his Truth Social platform. 'The conditions the Iranians leaked to their media have nothing to do with the terms of the deal we reached,' he thundered, stating that 'the Iranians are very dishonorable' and that it is impossible to negotiate in good faith with them. 'They had better correct course, and fast!' he also wrote. A U.S. administration official laid out Washington's position to the al-Hadath network's correspondent: no funds will be released until the agreement is implemented, enriched uranium will be removed from Iranian territory, and nuclear facilities will be fully dismantled. Another key clause, according to the Saudi network, will require Iran to stop funding proxies in the region — a matter of significant concern for Lebanon. The source confirmed that Iran has agreed to these terms. Netanyahu: Iran Will Not Get the Bomb Against the backdrop of statements regarding a potential deal to be signed soon between Washington and Tehran — a process from which Tel Aviv has been notably excluded — Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was quick to declare that he was "in full agreement" with Donald Trump that Iran would never obtain a nuclear weapon, adding that this would not happen "as long as he remains Prime Minister." Meanwhile, fighting in southern Lebanon continued on Friday with the same intensity between the Israeli army and Hezbollah. According to al-Hadath, the Israelis announced that they had seized control of all the hills overlooking the strategic city of Nabatieh in southern Lebanon, while Hezbollah continues its attacks, including through the use of drones. The fate of this front has been in question ever since talk of an imminent deal on the Iranian regional front began. On one hand, reports in Iranian media insist that any potential agreement would include a clause calling for a ceasefire on all fronts, including Lebanon. On the other hand, Israeli sources have reportedly stated that a deal between Iran and the United States would not cover the Lebanese front, "given that Israeli authorities are engaged in direct talks with Lebanese authorities in a separate process in Washington," pan-Arab media noted. The question remained open on Friday in Lebanon, especially since the ceasefire in Iran in early April did not automatically lead to a similar measure in Lebanon — bearing in mind that ceasefires reached through direct negotiations have not fared much better. What is clear, however, is that this forthcoming agreement is already fueling domestic controversy. Unsurprisingly, Hezbollah voices have already begun adopting a triumphalist tone. MP Hassan Fadlallah, in his characteristically provocative manner, rushed to declare that a deal "will have repercussions" for Lebanon, "whether Lebanese officials accept it or not." The lawmaker was invoking his party's go-to argument that only a ceasefire negotiated by Iran stands any real chance of success. He also took a swipe at President Joseph Aoun and Prime Minister Nawaf Salam, suggesting they have been "exploited" by Washington. Admittedly, Hassan Fadlallah appeared to soften his stance somewhat by stating that "Iran does not seek to replace the Lebanese state." Such remarks nonetheless drew a response from Prime Minister Salam, who accused the Islamic Republic of trying to demonstrate that it holds decision-making power in Lebanon. The debate over Iran's role in Lebanon, exercised through its local ally, shows no signs of dying down. Yet Washington sources, cited by several media outlets, continue to stress the American president's determination to keep the two files separate. This point will be one to watch in the coming days, in light of regional developments. New Saudi Arabian Ambassador Official Lebanon, for its part, continues to pursue a path of rapprochement with its Arab neighbors, long neglected. Beyond Saudi Arabia's decision, made the day before, to reopen its market to Lebanese agricultural products — which is expected to have a major impact on Lebanon's agricultural sector — noteworthy as well is the visit of Saudi envoy to Lebanon Yazid bin Farhan to President Aoun at the Baabda Palace on Thursday evening. The new Saudi ambassador, meanwhile, arrived in Beirut on Friday. Another major story this Friday: after a lengthy controversy surrounding a possible Syrian intervention in Lebanon to dismantle Hezbollah — following remarks made by Donald Trump on the subject — Syrian President Ahmad al-Sharaa categorically denied any involvement by his country in Lebanon's internal affairs.

“If You Want Something Done, Do It Yourself”
By
Samir Abdelmalak
Published

The world today seems caught between the fever of the World Cup and the social media posts of American President Donald Trump, with all the immediate repercussions these carry for the violent swings in oil and gold prices, and for the considerable profits reaped by the speculations tied to them. Yet this media “noise” conceals behind it shifts that are deeper and more consequential, manifest in the redrawing of the network of regional and international alliances, driven by the accelerating fallout from the confrontation underway between the United States and Israel on one side, and Iran and its ramifications on the other. The Arab partners of the United States in the Middle East have thus begun reassessing their strategic positioning and their traditional alliances, even if the contours of these reconfigurations have not yet fully taken shape. The United Arab Emirates is adopting a firmer stance towards Iran, while continuing to strengthen its ties with both Israel and India; Saudi Arabia, for its part, has activated a closer defence cooperation with Pakistan, intensifying at the same time its political and security coordination with Turkey and Egypt. In the face of these developments, the expression “New Middle East”, which gained wide currency in recent years, no longer seems capable of accurately capturing the emerging reality, nor of encompassing the new strategic alliances that are reshaping the region’s security architecture and its balances of power. The traditional conception of this “New Middle East” has thus been overtaken by the facts now taking hold. While these strategic transformations await clearer definition, global markets continue to be agitated by speculations and political declarations that have become capable of shifting capital and fortunes within minutes. And in the meantime, the poor and developing countries continue to bear the heaviest price of these disruptions. Every rise in energy or food prices, every upheaval in global markets, lands directly on the lives of citizens in these countries, who find themselves at the mercy of decisions and events over which they have no influence whatsoever. It is here that the need asserts itself to reconsider the development models in place, and to work earnestly towards achieving the highest possible degree of self-sufficiency in food, energy and production, drawing on the strengthening of national unity and the combined efforts of all the children of the nation, whether they live at home or are settled in the furthest corners of the world. Experience has shown that the states which succeeded in building the foundations of their own strength were the most capable of weathering global crises, and the most able to defend their national interests with genuine independence. And in the end, it is popular wisdom that gives the most fitting expression to this truth: “If you want something done, do it yourself.” The nations that rely on their own capacities and invest in the talents of their people are the best placed to protect their future and to safeguard the independence of their economic and political decision-making.

It Is Not Peace That Is at Stake
By
Jad Akhawi
Published

Amid the political and media clamour surrounding the ongoing negotiations between Lebanon and Israel under American sponsorship, many are absorbed by the traditional question: does Israel want peace? Are we standing before a new phase in relations between the two countries, or merely facing security arrangements imposed by the balance of power that emerged from the war? But the truth is that this question, however important, is not the most important one for Lebanon. The fundamental question today does not concern what Israel wants, but what Lebanon has managed to reclaim for itself after long decades of confiscation of its national decision-making. For the first time in many years, Lebanon is not sitting at the negotiating table as a battlefield or a bargaining chip in the hands of others, but as a state representing itself. And this shift, in and of itself, constitutes the most significant political event in everything that is currently unfolding. The Lebanese have unfortunately grown accustomed to seeing their country serve as part of other people's wars. They have grown accustomed to seeing the existential dossiers of war, peace, sovereignty and security managed outside legitimate institutions, and to seeing the state reduced to a mere witness to decisions taken elsewhere. During many periods of our recent history, it was not Lebanon that negotiated — Lebanon was the very object of negotiation. And the Lebanese always paid the price. The price of wars whose timing they had not decided. The price of settlements in whose drafting they had not participated. The price of regional conflicts that had turned their homeland into a mailbox for other people's military and political messages. Today, for the first time in a long while, the picture seems different. Not because Israel has suddenly changed, nor because the region has become more peaceful, but because the Lebanese state has begun to reclaim a fundamental sovereign right: the right to speak in Lebanon's name. Lebanese may diverge on the details of the negotiations. Positions may differ on certain clauses, orientations or priorities — and that is something natural and healthy in any democratic society. But what ought to be the subject of national consensus is that the Lebanese decision has returned to constitutional institutions, and that it is the state that manages this dossier on behalf of all Lebanese. This is precisely where the real value of the current process lies. For states are not measured solely by the extent of their territory, the size of their population or the volume of their economy, but by their capacity to hold the monopoly on sovereign decision-making. And sovereignty is not a slogan raised on ceremonial occasions — it is a daily practice that begins with the mastery of the right to decide on war and peace, and ends with the state's capacity to speak on behalf of its citizens on the international stage. From this standpoint, the debate over Israel's intentions becomes less important than the debate over how to protect Lebanon's newly acquired gain. Yes, Israel seeks to defend its security interests — this is a reality that needs no discovery. Every state negotiates from its own interests, seeks its own security and stability, and attempts to obtain as much as possible. But the question that should occupy the Lebanese is this: has Lebanon finally become capable of defending its national interests through its legitimate institutions? If the answer is yes, then we stand before a historical turning point that transcends the results of the negotiations themselves. Agreements can succeed or fail. Understandings can be implemented or stumble. But the recovery by the state of its natural role remains a long-term strategic gain. Lebanon paid an exorbitant price when the decision over war and peace left the state's institutions. It paid a heavier price still when Lebanese priorities became entangled with regional agendas. And it paid an immense price when the fate of the Lebanese became bound to calculations that bore no relation to the Lebanese national interest. This is why the real challenge today lies not only in reaching the best possible agreement, but in preventing any return to the past — that is to say, in preventing the decision from being wrested from the state once again and returned to the spheres of influence, the axes and the external conflicts. What would be most dangerous is for the debate over the negotiations to transform into a new internal confrontation among the Lebanese. For past experience has shown that internal division has always been the door through which the outside world infiltrated the national decision. When institutions converge around the superior Lebanese interest, however, Lebanon becomes more resilient in the face of pressure and better able to defend its rights. What Lebanon needs today is not merely a truce on its borders, but a truce with its own political history — a history built on the duality of decision-making. It needs not only security arrangements, but the consolidation of the principle that the state alone is the ultimate reference point in the great national causes. This is the true meaning of the citizenship state for which we struggle — a state that is not reduced to a sect, a party or an axis. A state in which all citizens are equal before the law, all forces are subject to institutions, and all sovereign decisions emanate solely from legitimate authority. For without a state, there is no citizenship. And without sovereignty, there is no state. And there is no sovereignty when decision-making is scattered among multiple centres of power. This is why the political value of the current negotiations lies not only in the understandings or agreements they may produce, but in the fact that they reflect the beginning of Lebanon's transition from the position of a battlefield to that of a state — from the position of the recipient to that of a partner, and from the position of a bargaining chip to that of the one who holds the cards. And it is this turning point that must be preserved, whatever developments may come. If the last century was marked by the Lebanese struggle over the identity of the state, the coming phase must be that of reclaiming the state itself — a state strong through its institutions, free in its decision, sovereign over its territory, one in whose name only those elected by the Lebanese and empowered by the Constitution to represent the Lebanese Republic may speak. The road will perhaps not be easy, and it will no doubt be strewn with obstacles, pressures and challenges. But what has been achieved thus far deserves to be preserved. For nations are built not only through military victories or political agreements, but through the construction of institutions and the recovery of national decision-making. And in the end, while the Lebanese may diverge on the results of the negotiations, they should not diverge on a single truth: the Lebanon that negotiates for itself is worth a thousand times the Lebanon on whose behalf others negotiate.