Analyze

Pope Leo XIV’s visit to Lebanon is not an ordinary event, it is a historic moment with exceptional meaning. In this land of message, and across the region and the world, major confrontations converge: peace in the face of war, dialogue in the face of violence, moderation in the face of fanaticism, diversity in the face of uniformity, humanization in the face of populism, the constitution in the face of martial rule, the law in the face of chaos, citizenship in the face of Minoritism and Majoritism, the state in the face of non-statehood, governance in the face of corruption. Lebanon and the free world are experiencing these struggles at a time when the country holds a rare opportunity to prove its ability to rise again. For five decades, the Holy See has never lost hope in Lebanon as a “model state” despite political, economic, and sovereign collapses. A cardinal once said: “You believe historical Lebanon is dying, but its resurrection will come at the hands of its elite, residents and expatriates.” It was a clear sign that the real wager remains on the Lebanese themselves. The late Pope Francis confronted this reality with spiritual and political clarity. He embraced the Lebanese flag and mobilized Vatican diplomacy to defend Lebanon’s civilizational identity, yet he declined to visit Beirut at that time, sending a message without ambiguity: no to an alliance of minorities, no to non-statehood, no to corruption, no to the Church’s alignment with political power, no to transforming Lebanon into a platform for conflict. It was an affirmation that the Lebanese state was eroding and that Lebanon’s civilizational formula was under threat. Pope Leo XIV now comes bearing a unifying title: peace. Peace here is not only the opposite of war, but the opposite of moral collapse, national abdication, and complicity in destroying the state. It is an act of resistance against illicit arms, against alliances that fabricate imagined minorities, against fanaticisms that undermine the constitution, paralyze institutions, and threaten coexistence. He comes to affirm that Lebanon deserves life, deserves resurrection, and deserves a state that reflects its message. He comes to reawaken the will of an exhausted people and to remind a hesitant elite that the world still sees in Lebanon a space of freedom and responsibility. His choice of Lebanon as his first stop after Turkey is no coincidence, it is a message that Lebanon’s collapse strikes the core of pluralism and coexistence in the entire East and the wider world. His message to the Lebanese is clear: “Either you save your state, or you lose your mission.” There is no room for half a state or half a sovereignty, no mixing of good governance with political manipulation, no surrender to the blackmail of arms under the pretext of civil peace. True peace rests on citizenship, on the constitution, and on international legitimacy. His message to the world is equally clear: “Saving Lebanon is defending the human being,” defending threatened pluralism, and preserving a bridge between East and West. Peace becomes a liberation project: freeing the human being from fear, the state from subordination, politics from corruption, and Lebanese identity from distortion. His visit becomes a chance to write a new chapter, the third independence: the independence of the state from destroying the sovereignty, the independence of truth from falsification, the independence of the human being from systems that crush the common good.

We have long lived under the shadow of the imagined power of Iranian propaganda — or let us say, the propaganda of the Axis of Resistance — which had made Iran into a great, cohesive, and untouchable power. Events have shown that there is a vast gulf between actual power and narrative power. This had already happened with Hezbollah: many had believed in the image of its absolute supremacy. Iran deceived us, through its followers and its media army — disguised television channels, paid journalists, digital influencers of every kind, and others — by propagating its fictional narrative about: the image of technological supremacy, and the image of powerful allies who support it (China, Russia), thus fashioning in public opinion the image of an "unbreakable axis." Iran had forgotten that, in the international system, alliances are not ideological but transactional. And that China and Russia act according to their own calculations, not according to the desires of Iran's rulers with their revolutionary ideology. Iran's policies had succeeded in the past, when it was betting on buying time, deferring deadlines, manipulating its adversaries, evading responsibility for the crimes committed by its proxy arms, and making promises and pledges only to renege on them. Iran had forgotten that it would never have been able to continue with these policies had they not, in some way, suited American and Israeli policy. The question that imposes itself: is Iran truly a state? If we take the classical definition of the state — monopoly on violence, centralization of decision-making, sovereignty over territory —, Iran is a state of complete structure. But if we take the definition of the modern state as a rational-bureaucratic institution with a centralized decision-making process subject to accountability, whose purpose is to secure the interests of its citizens, then the matter is different and complex. If we invoke Max Weber's analysis of the monopoly on legitimate violence, we find that Iran, as a state, monopolizes violence, but that legitimacy within it is divided between: republican institutions, accompanied by a revolutionary and supra-constitutional structure (the Supreme Leader, the Revolutionary Guards and the Basij...), meaning that the regime carries two natures: State + Revolution. And this is what generates a permanent tension between the two. And then, when revolutions transform into states, they confront a dilemma: to remain a "permanent revolution" or to become a "normal state"? The Iranian regime has not resolved this question since 1979. It employs the discourse of the state, then behaves like a transnational movement. From here arises the resemblance of the regime's behavior to that of its party: not because Iran is not a state, but because it keeps the doctrinal element above the logic of the state, and the protection of the regime is the "most obligatory of obligations." The state says: we are a sovereign entity; but the Revolution says: we are a project that transcends borders. This duality prevents complete stability. What Iran practices in its dealings with its surroundings and the world is a form of guerrilla warfare equipped with ballistic missiles, conducted through proxies distributed across the countries of the region, and based on the conduct of "asymmetric warfare." This is the logic of revolutionary movements. For the classical state responds directly, through its army, within clear equations. The proxy model, by contrast, generates a deliberate fog that renders it capable of disavowing its actions. But fog is a double-edged weapon: when it is pierced, it turns into confusion within the leadership and contradiction in the messages. In addition to all of this, Iran has turned a blind eye to its own interior and its needs. Many analyses of Iran focus on missiles and ideological alliances, in total disregard of the Iranian interior, its divisions and its peoples, the rebellion of women, the aspirations of a different young generation, economic exhaustion, and a shaken legitimacy. A powerful state is measured not only by its arsenal, but by its capacity to integrate its society. The historical narrative has turned into a burden, transformed from a resource into a constraint in which the regime has imprisoned itself. The historical narrative granted the regime meaning, allowed for continuity, and preserved its religious-sectarian identity, through recourse to perpetual mobilization. But it was transformed over time into a constraint, because it prevented any reassessment, treated every retreat as treason, and proceeded to sanctify its symbols and policies, elevating them above lived reality, instead of subjecting them to debate and reassessment according to the needs of society. Thus the Revolution has turned into a burden that Iranian society can no longer bear. And the decision has been taken to dispense with the services of this regime.

The process of rebuilding the Lebanese state appears to have stalled, despite some progress on the technocratic front. After more than a year of the Hezbollah’s so-called “support war” and the party’s waning influence on the regional stage, the election of the President sparked a wave of disproportionate euphoria. The formation of a promising government had raised hopes of restoring the state’s sovereignty. Yet, a year on, that euphoria has given way to disappointment, and hope has all but evaporated. Hezbollah’s refusal, at Iran’s instigation, to bow to the will of the majority of Lebanese and to hand over its weapons to the state, coupled with its violation of UN Resolution 1701, has long served – and continues to serve – as a pretext for Israeli harassment targeting its leaders and infrastructure. This dynamic obstructs any real progress in restoring the Lebanese state. Despite Iran’s declining influence and the backing of Washington, Arab states, and the international community, many figures within Beirut’s executive and legislative branches, as well as certain former military officials who mislead the public about our army’s capabilities, continue to submit to an arrogant and threatening Hezbollah. This is hardly surprising, as these officials, at every level of authority, have spent four decades, yielding to such influence. It should come as no surprise that these actors might switch allegiances if a conflict between Tehran and Washington escalates into a swift or full-scale war favorable to the United States. Yet, in the event of a prolonged conflict or concessions from Washington, they are likely to celebrate their opportunistic alignment. For now, they remain in a stand-by mode, weighing which side to back. The problem is that these individuals represent the face of Lebanon itself – while the world’s major decision-makers privately despise them, indulge them and publicly insult them. Hezbollah and its counterpart, the Amal Movement, have asserted themselves through street demonstrations and parliamentary control, notably via the Speaker. In addition, Hezbollah has relied on weapons, assassinations, and both covert and overt threats to achieve the same ends – a strategy that has proven effective among the centers of power. Both armed parties continue to maneuver simultaneously within the state and through their militias, which are structurally linked to Iran’s Revolutionary Guards. Moreover, they have infiltrated Lebanon’s deep state and official institutions at every level. The cleansing of these institutions falls squarely under the responsibility of the executive branch and the President of the Republic. Neither Hezbollah nor Amal has proposed – or continues to propose – any credible plan for building the Lebanese state, beyond a failed rhetoric of “resistance” and pervasive animosities. Survival of Hezbollah alone matters; and despite being weakened, the party remains committed to the same path it has followed for four decades. Only true statesmen could push the country forward. Yet such figures are largely absent from official institutions, with a few rare exceptions steadfast in their sovereigntist positions. Their resolve, however, exposes them to the most virulent attacks and even physical threats from a Hezbollah clinging desperately to its gains – a dynamic that could come at a heavy cost to the nation. The indecisive, the corrupt, the bazaar figures, the socio-politically blind, and the cowardly are incapable of governing, leading, or embodying the stature of true leadership. Lebanon is rich in human resources and talent, awaiting only the right opportunity to spark a genuine revival. In this context, it is noteworthy that neighboring Syria has set remarkable benchmarks in restoring its state institutions. Yet significant gaps remain. The country must reassure and integrate its minorities and continue building its system. In short, Syria still has a long road to stability. However, what has been achieved so far is highly promising, largely because the Syrian state is led by a statesman, Ahmed al-Sharaa, emerging with maturity and pragmatism. He understands that the eyes of Syrians – and the world – are upon him, and he is rising to the challenge. In Lebanon, we are still waiting for the emergence of true statesmen.

The US military strike in Venezuela, followed by the arrest of President Nicolás Maduro and his transfer outside the country, sent a powerful shockwave through international politics. The arrest triggered widespread international condemnation, with many states and organizations describing it as a violation of international law and an assault on Venezuela’s national sovereignty. International law experts, including in analytical pieces published by The Guardian , point out that the American operation in Venezuela violates the United Nations Charter, particularly the provision prohibiting the use of force in the absence of self-defence or explicit authorization from the Security Council. This event rewrites part of the rules of the game. It is not the arrest itself that alters those rules, but what it signifies: a profound shift in how sovereignty, power, and political time are understood within the international system. The diversity of reactions — ranging from strong condemnations to cautious reservations and even conditional endorsements — reveals that the world is standing at a critical crossroads: will international law remain a framework protected by institutions and agreements, or will it retreat in the face of faits accomplis? This episode is not merely a new chapter in Venezuela’s story, but a test of international norms themselves at a particularly sensitive moment in global political history. It exposes a deep gap between discourse and practice in the Western world. International justice has long been presented as one of the pillars of the modern global order and as the moral foundation underpinning the legitimacy of transnational institutions, foremost among them the International Criminal Court. Yet the trajectory of this justice reveals a fracture that can no longer be reduced solely to Western double standards. It has grown more complex as the world enters a multipolar phase and as rising powers challenge the West not only over influence, but over the very definition of values. In its first phase, criticism of international justice focused on the duplicity of Western discourse. It was clear that the application of international law had never been detached from political interests. Military interventions were carried out in the name of human rights, while grave violations were overlooked when committed by strategic allies. This selectivity eroded the credibility of international justice, turning it, in the eyes of many, into a tool of the powerful rather than a universal legal system. The flaw lay not in the proclaimed values themselves, but in their selective instrumentalization: invoked when they serve power balances, ignored when they obstruct them. Today’s more significant shift, however, lies not only in the persistence of this legacy, but in the exposure of the limits of the liberal system itself as its capacity to impose its rules declines. The world is no longer unipolar, and the United States can no longer, alone or with its allies, regulate the tempo of international justice. The emergence of China and Russia as major actors has reshaped the landscape: the question is no longer why justice is applied selectively, but who still possesses the ability to apply it at all. In this context, international justice appears trapped between two opposing forces: a West that upholds a discourse of values — applied selectively — yet lacks the ability to enforce them without international consensus, and rising powers that denounce what they call “politicized justice” while failing to articulate that discourse in practice or to propose a credible legal alternative, content instead to obstruct the existing process. A striking paradox emerges: opposition to selective justice does not lead to more inclusive justice, but to total paralysis. This paralysis has enabled the rise of a “resistance” discourse framed as a moral counterweight. Yet when tested in practice, this discourse reveals its own stark duplicity. The defense of sovereignty is used to justify domestic repression, and the rejection of external intervention is not accompanied by the construction of independent judicial institutions or genuine respect for human rights. Thus, the myth of Western justice collapses on one side, while the myth of an alternative justice claimed by its opponents collapses alongside it. What prevents the realization of international justice today is not a single factor, but three fundamental obstacles: the absence of an international executive authority independent of power relations; the erosion of global value consensus amid escalating conflict between competing civilizational and political models; and the use of justice by all parties as a rhetorical instrument rather than as an institutional commitment. Within this landscape, the International Criminal Court appears as a mirror of the crisis rather than its cause. It is a court without police, without an army, and without political consensus to enforce its rulings. Its ability to act depends on state cooperation, a cooperation now hostage to global polarization. The problem is not merely that international justice is “unjust,” but that it is increasingly incapable of being justice at all. All of this demonstrates a widening gap between Western moral discourse and the actual mechanisms of its implementation. The failure to open an ICC investigation into the “situation in Venezuela,” contrasted with the relative speed of proceedings against other leaders, weakens the narrative of a “neutral, universal justice” and fuels the discourse of anti-Western forces who view international justice as a selective tool rather than a comprehensive legal system. Here, not only does the “myth of Western justice” collapse, but it converges with the collapse of the opposing “myth of resistance,” which likewise claims a monopoly on moral legitimacy while operating according to the logic of power and necessity rather than law. In both cases, we are witnessing the erosion of the symbolic framework of values, gradually replaced by the law of force, in a scene reminiscent of a return to empires rather than an international order governed by shared rules. This reality does not signal the end of the need for justice, but the end of the illusion that it can be separated from politics without a fundamental reconstruction of the international system itself. From a Durkheimian perspective, we are facing a moment of anomie — not in the sense of chaos, but of the loss of shared norms. From a Lévi-Straussian perspective, this is a moment of myth disintegration, when myth can no longer resolve the contradictions it was designed to conceal. Law, as sociologists remind us, does not exist in a vacuum; it is the product of a social and moral equilibrium. When that equilibrium collapses, law becomes a text devoid of force. Between the West’s former duplicity and the current duplicity of the so-called “resistance,” international justice is lost between two opposing discourses that nevertheless converge on one essential point: the subjugation of values to the logic of power. Unless a radical rethinking of the relationship between sovereignty, law, and justice takes place, justice will remain a perpetually deferred promise, invoked in speeches… and absent in reality. Regarding the Netanyahu Case The International Criminal Court’s relative success in moving forward with its decision against Benjamin Netanyahu — unlike in similar previous cases — is best understood as the result of an unprecedented convergence of political and moral factors rather than as an expression of absolute legal independence. The scale of the violations committed in Gaza, their breadth, temporal intensity, and visual exposure made it difficult to contain them within the traditional “self-defense” narrative that has long provided political cover for Israel and its allies. Moreover, a profound shift in Western public opinion, particularly within the United States itself, played a decisive role. Rising generations have shown greater sensitivity to human rights standards and less attachment to traditional geopolitical narratives. This shift narrowed the political margin of maneuver, even for governments most supportive of Israel. Finally, South Africa’s methodical legal intervention marked a turning point by redirecting the debate from politics to law and by granting the case moral legitimacy derived from a state bearing a historical legacy of apartheid, making it harder to challenge its motivations. Thus, the Court’s decision was not the result of isolated institutional courage, but the product of a fracture in the traditional system of political protection and an unprecedented exposure of the gap between power and discourse, making impunity more costly than accountability.

The visit of Pope Leo XIV to Lebanon was not merely a passing religious or pastoral stop; it was a profoundly political moment in one of the region’s most sensitive phases. A visit that carried messages to Lebanon’s domestic scene as much as it carried messages outward — specifically to Israel, and to the international powers holding the threads of the regional game. Yet the question that resonated strongly after the Pope’s departure was this: Did the visit put an end to the idea of an Israeli attack on Lebanon? The answer is not simple. Between the immense symbolic value of the visit and the cold strategic calculations along the southern border, one clear truth emerges: the visit granted Lebanon a temporary psychological and political breathing space, but it did not erase the logic of war. Still, together with the escalating French diplomatic activity and the President’s visit to the Sultanate of Oman, it helped create a new political and diplomatic deterrence network — one that may slow down a decision for war, and perhaps even redraw its terms. The Papal Visit: Powerful Symbolism… but Clear Limits The arrival of the Pope to a country ravaged by crises sends a clear message: the world has not abandoned Lebanon entirely, and preserving its diversity and role remains an international priority. The Pope encouraged the Lebanese to reconcile, to rely on the state, and to renounce violence. But the importance of the visit lies not only in the content of its message — but also in its timing, the most sensitive since the end of the 2006 war. Israel views such moments through a strategic lens. The presence of the head of the Catholic Church in Beirut raised the cost of any large-scale attack during that period. It would have been extremely difficult for Israel to launch a war while Lebanon was hosting a global religious figure of this stature, with the entire world speaking, reacting, and watching. This means the visit succeeded — even if only temporarily — in creating a media and moral protective shield. But does this visit shift the balance of power? Of course not. Israel does not make decisions of war based on morale or symbolism, but on military and political calculations. Thus, the impact of the visit is limited in time and symbolic scope, and insufficient to deter a war decision if the Israeli leadership were to make one later. The French Role: Between Mediation and Diplomatic Pressure If the Pope’s visit appealed to emotion and global conscience, the French role speaks directly to the heart of political maneuvering. Historically and practically, France remains the most engaged European country in Lebanon’s affairs. Over the past weeks, Paris has worked along two parallel tracks: 1. Field-level de-escalation, through direct and indirect channels with Israel. 2. Reactivating the border file and the renewed implementation of Resolution 1701. ` It is no secret that the French leadership has been trying for months to prevent the south from sliding into full-scale war. Paris has long played the role of mediator, reminding Washington that a war in Lebanon will not serve the regional stability the U.S. administration is seeking. Yet, France’s limits are clear: • France has no coercive power over Israel. • Its influence is based primarily on persuasion, not compulsion. • Full alignment with Washington’s position is not always guaranteed. Still, French pressure — especially with accelerating diplomatic movements — plays directly into Israel’s strategic calculations, becoming a factor of hesitation. Israel knows that France can mobilize Europe politically and in the media against any large-scale invasion — and this is no small detail in the realm of international legitimacy. The Lebanese President’s Visit to Oman: A Regional Platform for De-Escalation In a moment when regional arenas overflow with tension, the President’s visit to the Sultanate of Oman emerged as a shrewd investment in Muscat’s quiet but effective diplomatic role. Oman is not a country of noise, but one of subtle influence, maintaining balanced relations with all sides: • Tehran • Gulf capitals • Western powers • And even sensitive back channels with certain international actors This means the President’s visit was not ceremonial, but a platform for building a network of regional guarantees and opening mediation channels that could help cool the southern front. Muscat excels at playing a role no one else can: quiet communication between major adversaries without fanfare. And this role may well be one of the unspoken pillars in preventing military escalation. Between Three Actors — the Pope, France, and Oman… What Has Changed? When combining the three elements, the following becomes clear: 1. The Papal visit provided Lebanon with symbolic and moral protection and restored global attention to its plight. 2. The French role pushes toward a political settlement and restrains war through continuous diplomatic pressure. 3. The President’s engagement in Oman may pave the way for an indirect negotiation track among regional and international actors regarding the southern front. But is all this enough to prevent war? The truth is that war is prevented only when its cost outweighs its potential gains for Israel. The Papal visit, French diplomacy, and Omani mediation all raise that cost — but none eliminates the war option if Tel Aviv believes it has a unique strategic opportunity. We are thus facing a temporary freeze of the logic of attack, not its cancellation — a fragile balance between international pressure for de-escalation and an Israeli decision oscillating between escalation and domestic political considerations. Ultimately, the Pope’s visit did not end the idea of war — but it made war harder. French diplomacy created a political deterrence network. And the President’s visit to Oman did what quiet diplomacy does best: opened doors that never open in public. Israel will continue to watch. Lebanon will continue to wait. But the reality is that international pressure on Tel Aviv is now the strongest it has been in years. And that alone is no guarantee… but it is, at least, an opportunity.

In 1957, the historian and philosopher of history Arnold Toynbee delivered a lecture at the Cénacle Libanais entitled « Le Liban, expression de l’Histoire ». After exploring the complexity of Lebanese history and its interactions with surrounding civilisations, and after analysing how Lebanon—owing to its geographic position and its multi-confessional composition —has long served as a meeting point as well as a battleground for competing religions and identities, Toynbee concluded his talk with a remarkably prescient warning. He said: If, in the Levant, the frontier between the two global empires—American and Russian—were to be drawn along the crest of Mount Anti-Lebanon, the Lebanese Republic would risk sharing the fate of the State of Israel. Like Israel, Lebanon would not be viable if it were to find itself in a permanent state of hostility with its neighbors to the East. This lecture was given, of course, amid the gloomy atmosphere of the Cold War, with all its geopolitical tensions and ideological rivalries between the United States and the Soviet Union, along with their respective camps. During that period, while the Soviet Iron Curtain had fallen over nine European countries, turning their borders into zones of repression and hostility, wars had also broken out along the frontier dividing the two Koreas and across the shifting borders of Indochina. At the same time, the line of demarcation between the American and Russian empires settled, as Toynbee had feared, along the crest of the Anti-Lebanon mountain range—on what is the Lebanese-Syrian border. In this inextricable situation, Lebanon opted for a position squarely in the American orbit, declaring on 16 March 1957 its adherence to the Eisenhower Doctrine, and that after having briefly flirted with the Baghdad Pact as part of the Western alliances of the Cold War. Meanwhile, on the other side of the border that separated the two spheres of influence, the West’s refusal to assist the Arab states—including Syria—and Washington’s unconditional support for Israel pushed Syria, then dominated by the left, as well as the United Arab Republic (UAR) created in 1958 through the union of Egypt and Syria to turn decisively towards the Soviet Union. The Lebanese, comforted by America’s global supremacy and by its military superiority over the USSR, were not seriously alarmed Toynbee’s warning . Thus, the Lebanese-Syrian border, as defined and even enshrined in the Lebanese Constitution—unique in the world for setting out a national frontier in a constitutional text—became more than an administrative line or a legal fiction. It acquired a dual nature: it simultaneously a frontier between two states and a political, economic, and ideological dividing line between the American and Soviet spheres of influence. When President Fouad Chehab met President Gamal Abdel Nasser in a tent erected on the border, each man remaining on his own territory, the symbolism of the venue and scenery was designed to underline both the national and regional significance of this frontier. Yet Toynbee’s premonition ultimately proved false. In fact, this line of separation between the two spheres of influence, for a time, protected Lebanon from Syria’s expansionist political, security-related, economic and ideological ambitions. This separation turned out to be a boon for Lebanon for more than a quarter of a century. Lebanon’s great misfortune struck when the United States—true to its pragmatism and its readiness to trade alliances for “deals,” such as the one with Assad’s Syria—began first to blur this line, and then almost to erased it altogether by orchestrating the entry of the Syrian army into Lebanon in April 1976. Through maneuvers inspired by Henry Kissinger, Washington ultimately entrusted Damascus with a tutorship over Lebanon. The removal of this line of demarcation—engineered through a US-Syrian arrangement reached with no consideration whatsoever for the Lebanese, who still believed that American alliances were grounded in principles—allowed Syria to impose its hegemony over Lebanon. The alliance between the United States and Lebanon was, in reality, nothing more than a short-lived, circumstantial pact dictated by American interests during the Cold War. Toynbee was mistaken on another point as well: the alternative to tense borders is not necessarily peace; it may just as well be domination.

The Levant unmistakably reached a crucial tipping point on 7 October 2023, as Hamas launched a deadly attack on Israeli territory from the Gaza Strip. The circumstances and repercussions of this swift and bloody offensive sent a seismic shock through Gaza and Israel, of course, but also across other key centers of the Levant, notably Lebanon and Syria, and, by extension, Iran and Yemen. The devastating impact of Hamas’s attack on Gaza and its population has once again brought the entire Israeli-Palestinian conflict to the forefront. Some had hoped that the events of 7 October 2023 might lead to a breakthrough in the longstanding Middle Eastern conflict, which has blighted the region for over seven decades. At this stage, this is far from being the case, at least in appearance. It is particularly regrettable that the Palestinian Authority has been unable to regain the initiative and embark on a swift and promising dialogue with Israel. On the opposing side, it is legitimate to ask whether Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu is willing to envisage and accept an end to these recurring regional conflicts, even if doing so risks triggering his own legal troubles. Whether he genuinely has the will to do so remains uncertain. After a military victory, does he foresee his defeat on the battlefield of communication? The signs suggest he does not. It is true that as long as the Palestinians publicly assert that their goal is the elimination of the Israeli state, Benjamin Netanyahu and his allies will continue to pursue their deadly objectives. Let us not hide from the truth: on one side, there is a population that suffers and dies – but who elected Hamas? – and on the other, a people and a nation whose enemies seek not merely unconditional defeat, as Germany faced in 1945, but total annihilation. This is no longer about avenging the unbearable acts of 7 October 2023. This is about survival. Yet, despite everything, a glimmer of hope appears on the horizon. Voices – and not insignificant ones – are being heard within Israel itself, calling for an end to the slaughter in Gaza. These voices recognize that Israel, born out of inhumanity, cannot pursue the same objectives, and that global opinion can shift at any moment and abandon the Israeli state. In the age of social media, public opinion can pivot quickly and irreversibly. Contemporary history shows just how impossible it is to sustain a battle without the moral backing of both the population and key allies. The examples are particularly telling: the French in Indochina never fully had the support of the French population or certain key countries; later, in Algeria, they lacked the wholehearted backing of their own citizens and numerous other nations. The United States, too, was forced to abandon the government of South Vietnam, and later withdrew from Afghanistan in a humiliating manner – for both themselves and the countries that had supported them from the outset, ten years earlier. Their withdrawal left behind a heavy toll of human lives. Benjamin Netanyahu must recognize that the stars are aligned for him to radically change his approach. Nothing is worse than not speaking – or refusing to speak – to one’s enemies. Perhaps this is even worse for him and for Israel than confronting domestic justice. Yet he will face it, and if he continues down this path, he will have even have, to defend himself, the stature of a statesman who saved his nation. Germany until April 1945, Japan until July 1945, and other countries in different circumstances, refused to engage with their enemies. Even today, many states shun dialogue with adversaries, with the result that civilians die every day, fueling resentment and hatred. By contrast, the well-known Cuban Missile Crisis demonstrates that dialogue can avert unnecessary and cataclysmic confrontation. True, negotiations and concessions were involved in some cases, but is that not a small price to pay for peace? Israel must conduct itself as a normal state, even if it feels besieged and threatened. An Israeli state that respects its neighbours would gain substantial support across the Near and Middle East, as well as in the Western world and far beyond, making it unlikely to be annihilated by Hamas – which, if not already moribund, is at least significantly weakened. Such a course of action should clearly be adopted without naivety, taking care to ensure the hydra does not awaken. Next article: The Levant in Turmoil: Lebanese and Syrian Perspectives

Pope Leo XIV is set to bring a powerful message to Lebanon: “Blessed are the peacemakers.” A unifying call, with deep religious resonance, that resonate cross its religious communities, while carrying a clear political weight for a country exhausted by decades of conflict – a nation for whom the time has come to leave the tunnels of violence behind and step into the light of peace. Firstly: Supporting the Christian Presence and Affirming Its National Role This message stems from the Holy See’s careful attention to what Lebanon has endured – and continues to endure – particularly its Christian population. For the Vatican, Lebanon is the most sensitive “laboratory” in the Middle East for Muslim–Christian coexistence, and a potential model of what John Paul II, three decades ago, described as a “message-country.” In this context, the Pope’s visit represents a clear show of support from the Vatican for the Christian presence in Lebanon. It underscores the Holy See’s role as a guiding authority, both in nurturing the community internally and advocating for it on the international stage. Lebanese Christians are not an isolated minority; they belong to a spiritual and political structure that spans from East to West. The visit reaffirms that their role within the Lebanese state cannot be marginalized. Yet the papal message goes beyond mere reassurance. It carries an appeal to all internal factions to rise above sectarian fanaticism and commit to the national project. Christians, the papal message suggests, are more than just a community – they are bearers of a universal human message within this country. Secondly: A Message to Iran… and the World The Pope’s call for peace is more than a moral exhortation – it is a public political statement. From Beirut, the Vatican sends a clear message to Iran: Lebanon cannot survive as long as it remains a theatre of conflict, war, and both regional and international rivalries. The slogan “Blessed are the peacemakers” is not merely a theological mantra. It is a pointed, if subtle, rejection of the logic of arms and violence, a reminder that only diplomatic and political solutions can rescue Lebanon from its downward spiral. Thirdly: Lebanon, a “Message-Country” Between Past and Present In 1997, John Paul II presented Lebanon with a historic document entitled Lebanon, a Message-Country , aimed primarily at the nation’s internal communities, with the goal of strengthening coexistence and affirming the state’s pioneering role. Today, Pope Leo XIV’s message can be seen as an international extension of that document. Lebanon can only truly be a “message-country” if it restores peace, distances itself from regional conflicts, and rebuilds its relationships with neighbours, the wider world, and even its adversaries. Peace is not merely a moral choice – it is the sine qua non condition of the Lebanese state’s very existence: a prerequisite for reviving the economy, defining national priorities, and asserting sovereignty across its territory. Peace, ultimately, is the path to the “message.” The Pope’s visit is far more than a ceremonial occasion. It is a high-level political intervention, a reminder to the Lebanese people that their state can only recover if it breaks free from the axes of war, restores its neutrality, and chooses to be a force for peace rather than a battleground for conflict. Lebanon – the “message-country” – can only be born from a Lebanon at peace.