Analyze

The region stretching from Iraq to Lebanon, Syria and Israel, with the United States in the background, is undergoing a profound transformation in the function of weapons within the state. The broader trajectory points toward a redefinition of the role of armed force, whether through disarmament or its integration into security arrangements that go beyond the traditional concept of the nation-state. This reflects a gradual shift from a logic of hard sovereignty to one of managed security. At the same time, the contours of a new military-strategic bloc are taking shape in the region, where the Saudi and Turkish roles converge and whose influence extends to nuclear-armed Pakistan, against the backdrop of a sensitive Iranian repositioning. This convergence cannot be understood merely as a set of temporary alliances, but rather as part of a broader reengineering of the region, driven by a logic of “new imperial planning,” in which balances are reshaped by linking security, energy and economics within an interconnected network of interests. Within this framework, regional roles are being gradually redistributed. Iraq is being pushed to bring armed factions under control and redefine the relationship between the state and irregular armed forces. Syria is entering a phase of security restructuring within new international and regional arrangements, while Lebanon faces the question of the state’s monopoly over arms amid a profound structural crisis. Israel, for its part, is working to redefine its military superiority in ways suited to an increasingly interconnected regional environment, while the United States is shifting from managing wars directly to managing balances through indirect instruments and multilayered networks of influence. Iran, for its part, is experiencing an internal strategic divide between one current that regards confrontation as necessary to preserve its regional influence and another that sees integration into the new arrangements as less costly and more sustainable. This divide reflects a deeper crisis over the definition of Iran’s regional role, just as much as it reflects the pressures of a changing international and regional environment, particularly as its regional surroundings are themselves being reshaped militarily and politically. Economically, Eastern Mediterranean gas is emerging as a decisive factor in reshaping regional balances, from Israel to Cyprus and Egypt, with the potential for this dynamic to extend to Lebanon and Syria. This resource is gradually becoming a geopolitical instrument for redrawing maps of influence, particularly as Europe seeks to diversify its energy supplies away from Russia. At the same time, this transformation strengthens the position of the dollar, as energy is priced within the Western financial system, linking the strength of the U.S. currency to the redirection of energy flows toward areas under its influence. Russia, by contrast, is facing a gradual decline in its ability to use energy as an instrument of influence within the European market. Security and energy thus converge within a single system that can be described as “networked imperialism,” in which control is based not on direct occupation but on integrating states into complex networks of interests that constrain their decision-making autonomy and redefine the very concept of sovereignty. Regionally, the Middle East is no longer an arena of traditional conflict, but a central node in a network of overlapping global balances, where every military alliance is linked to an economic trajectory, every energy project has a security dimension, and every domestic transformation carries broader regional implications. In this context, Lebanon represents a concentrated expression of this interconnectedness, given its links to Eastern Mediterranean gas and the delicate balances involving Israel, Syria and the Iranian axis. Iraq, meanwhile, constitutes a sensitive balancing point between Iran and the Arab world, while Syria is becoming a geographic and strategic corridor for energy and influence. Israel, for its part, is emerging as a rising technological and energy hub in the Eastern Mediterranean. The United States, meanwhile, operates as a regulator from a distance, shaping the regional order over the long term. It does not always intervene directly, but it defines the broader framework through the global financial system, security alliances and energy networks. In this sense, it is shifting from managing conflicts to managing the overall architecture of the regional order. Ultimately, the current phase reflects a transition from managing power to redistributing it, as disarmament processes intersect with the rise of new alliances, energy becomes a decisive factor, and some traditional powers gradually retreat from their historical roles. This is how the logic of “imperialist interconnectedness” emerges as an overarching framework: states no longer operate in isolation from one another, but within an interconnected network in which geography and energy, security and economics, politics and alliances are intertwined, in a process that is redefining the very concept of power in the contemporary international system.

Escalating tensions in the Gulf are heightening global concerns over a new disruption to navigation in the Red Sea. Such a development would impose new constraints on an already costly global maritime trade network while triggering another supply crisis in areas close to the conflict zones surrounding the Strait of Hormuz and the geopolitical risks associated with them in the Middle East, should the conflict drag on. The same scenario has repeated itself so often that it has become almost predictable. President Donald Trump has raised his threats to their highest level. Washington is openly discussing the possibility of a large-scale strike, while Secretary of State Marco Rubio speaks of alternatives to the Strait of Hormuz. Markets have begun pricing in the prospect of a regional war. Oil prices surge, stock markets retreat, and the region slips deeper into uncertainty. Political leaders, meanwhile, view the crisis through their own respective lenses. Some are guided by the calculations of upcoming elections, others by shifting balances of power and influence. Lobbying groups and major corporations, for their part, continue to operate according to the logic of interests and profits, at times benefiting from the very market volatility created by the crises themselves. Financial markets no longer regard this pattern as an exception but as a recurring reality. Every escalation pushes oil prices higher over fears of disruptions to energy supplies. As soon as signs of de-escalation emerge, prices begin to fall once again. The same dynamic affects financial markets, which react sharply to every new threat before recovering part of their losses whenever the prospect of an agreement reappears. Despite this, concerns continue to mount over further disruptions to maritime traffic through the Strait of Hormuz, as container shipping activity across the Gulf of Aden, the Bab el-Mandeb Strait, and the Suez Canal has already declined sharply. More than fifty countries have been affected so far. In several African nations, including Nigeria, the ongoing conflict has worsened poverty and child hunger. In Germany, production at Tesla factories has slowed after more than eighteen international shipping companies rerouted their vessels around the Cape of Good Hope, delaying the delivery of industrial raw materials. The Japanese shipping giant NYK has also suspended its operations through the Red Sea. This diversion has quadrupled shipping costs because of the much longer route along the African coastline. It has also disrupted global supply chains and delayed the delivery of industrial and technological components from China, Taiwan, and other East Asian economies. Over recent months, a growing number of commercial vessels have abandoned their traditional route through the Gulf of Aden and the Suez Canal in both directions. These waterways previously handled nearly 20,000 cargo ships each year out of a global merchant fleet of approximately 105,000 vessels, which transported nearly 15 billion tons of goods and raw materials by sea in 2024. The return of inflation has become one of the greatest challenges facing governments worldwide, even after they had partially adapted to the economic consequences of disruptions around the Strait of Hormuz. The situation revives memories of the imbalances that marked the global economy in the wake of the Covid-19 pandemic. Europe is increasingly concerned about rising oil prices and the possibility of a broader conflict across the Middle East. European Union economies continue to bear the heavy costs of Russia’s war in Ukraine. Any shift in U.S. strategy would usher in a new economic reality for Europe, marked by widening disparities in growth and an increasingly uneven competitive landscape. European leaders appear deeply unsettled and must make decisions quickly. They are ill-equipped to withstand another economic shock combining inflation, unemployment, and climate-related disasters, while the European Union continues searching for alternative energy suppliers located much farther away. By contrast, during the months of the American war against Iran, the U.S. economy, driven primarily by domestic demand, remained relatively resilient. At the same time, U.S. trade with North American partners and ASEAN countries expanded to around $1.2 trillion, while maritime trade routes increasingly shifted toward the Pacific Ocean. China’s trade, meanwhile, reached approximately $800 billion. The exploration of the seas ranks among humanity’s greatest adventures. It transformed the Mediterranean, with all its trade and wealth, into a vast arena of exchange linking the ancient Phoenicians, Greeks, Egyptians, North Africa, Southern Europe, and India. Rome laid the foundations of its commercial and military sea routes there. The voyages of Christopher Columbus and Vasco da Gama, the Silk Road journeys associated with Marco Polo, and Admiral Ferdinand Magellan’s circumnavigation of the globe all contributed to opening new maritime routes for international trade. Yet the sea serves far more than a single purpose. More than one million people earn their living in the maritime sector, whether aboard ships or on docks and in ports. Beyond them lie entire industries built around shipbuilding, fishing, recreational boating, and maritime tourism. The maritime economy also supports development strategies by stimulating numerous industrial sectors, including steel, aluminum, cable manufacturing, and fiberglass production. Any expansion of maritime conflicts, from Bab el-Mandeb to the South China Sea and the Sea of Japan, at a time when the global economy is growing by barely 3% , would generate further political and economic repercussions. Its economic and psychological consequences would continue to weigh heavily on the lives of millions of people. Financial analysts estimate that goods worth no less than $3 trillion pass through the Red Sea every year, accounting for roughly 13% of global trade, a figure projected to rise to $5 trillion by 2050. Despite the strategic importance of this global trade corridor, the Red Sea route still lacks many essential maritime services and infrastructures. These include shipyards, maintenance facilities, maritime industries, and institutions responsible for ensuring the free flow of international trade. It also lacks the broader logistics ecosystem required to support international shipping, including the movement of nearly 80% of globally traded food products, particularly grains and palm oil. There are also growing concerns that regional transport and supply routes could be redrawn at the expense of Egypt and several African countries. Egypt stands to lose the most, as revenues from the Suez Canal, estimated at around $11 billion annually, remain under pressure. Approximately 15% of global trade, 30% of worldwide container traffic, and 8% of global crude oil shipments pass through the canal. Meanwhile, Israel has established its largest military observation post and most important strategic platform in Eritrea, overlooking the Strait of Tiran. Its confrontation with Iran is fueling tensions that could escalate into broader regional and international violence while encouraging piracy and identity-driven violence, with potentially serious consequences for Arab national security. Yet the Arab world still lacks a comprehensive common strategy to secure this vital maritime passage and build an effective framework for collective Arab security. Such a vacuum risks undermining the role of regional states, weakening their political independence, and eroding their strategic vitality. Thus, oil prices may decline after President Trump announces the postponement of any military strike, and stock markets may rally on reports of an imminent agreement. Yet none of this means that peace has been achieved or that the underlying causes of tension have disappeared. The Middle East is living through neither an open war nor a stable peace. Instead, it exists in a gray zone between the two, where the instruments of confrontation constantly evolve while their economic and psychological consequences continue to shape the lives of millions of people. Any new escalation would affect everyone. It would weigh on global growth, fuel inflation, drive up the cost of gasoline, electronic devices, and insurance premiums, and accelerate the search for alternative shipping routes, including the development of “green maritime corridors” discussed at the Glasgow Conference. It would also encourage investment in port infrastructure, the liberalization of the maritime sector in Morocco and across Africa, advances in technology, logistics services, and digital connectivity, as well as the expansion of offshore industries, maritime simulators, and maritime academies. This recurring cycle of crises does not suggest that the region is moving toward peace. On the contrary, it reveals a different reality: neither all-out war nor genuine stability, but the permanent management of crises. Escalation has become a negotiating tool, threats have become instruments of political leverage, and negotiations increasingly serve to postpone confrontation rather than resolve it. Yet amid this political and strategic confrontation, only one party continues to pay the real price: the people. Will Arab states recognize the importance of developing strategies to protect their “oil sea”, the maritime space that remains one of the central pillars of global trade?

How can we make sense of the fact that, despite the existence of this other Lebanon beneath the ground, Hezbollah suffered such a devastating defeat, lost entire ranks of its fighters, and brought about the deaths and displacement of the people of southern Lebanon? It even contributed to reshaping and fragmenting the country’s geography itself. A speech by Hassan Nasrallah, in which he declared that he was searching for the Israeli soldier “with a lantern and a wick,” revealed to me not merely a passing political exaggeration, but an entire architecture of imagined power. What we are witnessing is not simply a gap between rhetoric and reality, but a deeper flaw: an unrealistic perception of capability itself. The power that Hezbollah projected through its network of tunnels and vast missile arsenal failed to “capture a single soldier” or alter the rules of engagement. The outcome is the reality we are living today. This contradiction cannot be explained solely by political miscalculation. It points to something more profound: power has gradually become a discourse rather than an effective instrument of action. The weapons exist, yet the ability to employ them has become severely constrained. The paradox is striking: the higher the rhetoric rises, the more limited the actual capability is revealed to be. More importantly, Hezbollah’s decisions on war and peace do not stem exclusively from Lebanon or from Lebanon’s own interests. They are tied to a regional axis led by Iran. This explains the hesitation, the contradictions in its statements, and its inability to adopt a coherent position or make an autonomous decision. For years, Hezbollah lived under the influence of its own media narrative, built around the illusion of “absolute power” and “unbreakable deterrence.” That narrative expanded through the confidence generated by its victories in previous asymmetric conflicts, particularly in Syria. By contrast, Israel also spent years magnifying the threat posed by Hezbollah, its tunnel network, and the scale of its underground infrastructure, both to justify massive military budgets and to prepare public opinion for war. Yet once the confrontation actually began, the exaggerations on both sides quickly evaporated. Hezbollah discovered that its fortifications and underground cities were not the legendary strongholds it had imagined. They were, in reality, fixed installations that could easily become a liability, even a tomb for those inside them, once they were isolated through engineering operations and cut off from their communications. Israel, for its part, found that dismantling these “rock-hewn cities” required extensive engineering efforts and widespread destruction. Yet it was entirely feasible so long as Israel retained absolute air superiority and operated across terrain largely emptied of its civilian population. The conclusion is straightforward: fortifications and tunnel networks are merely physical tools. Unless they are supported by a strong state, genuine public consensus, a regional strategic depth willing to bear the cost of its own choices, and a technological ecosystem capable of matching that of the adversary, these underground cities quickly cease to be instruments of surprise and offensive action. They become isolated defensive positions, doomed the moment their communications and the political framework sustaining them above ground collapse. Hezbollah thus fell into the trap of its previous successes. It assumed that the tactics which had produced a measure of deterrence during the 2006 war could simply be replicated today, overlooking the extraordinary advances that have since transformed artificial intelligence, cyber capabilities, and modern military technology, particularly those available to Israel. Tunnel networks and underground fortifications once served as genuine sanctuaries. They successfully shielded Hezbollah’s fighters and missile launchers from conventional air strikes. In today’s digital age, however, they have become death traps. Israel employed artificial intelligence algorithms, thermal reconnaissance drones, and advanced geological surveying technologies to produce highly detailed three-dimensional maps of the tunnel network. It monitored movements in and out of the system while targeting ventilation shafts and supply routes. As a result, the fortifications were effectively exposed and isolated even before the ground offensive began. Hezbollah’s reliance on familiar operational methods also became a liability. Its communications and patterns of movement followed repetitive routines, precisely the kind of behavior Israeli artificial intelligence systems are designed to detect. By analyzing daily habits, voice signatures, logistical movements, and even fighter rotation cycles, predictive algorithms were reportedly able to anticipate Hezbollah’s next moves. This deep intelligence penetration rendered conventional ambushes detectable and vulnerable to highly precise preemptive strikes before Israeli ground forces even made contact. This was compounded by a broad cyber intelligence campaign. Israeli surveillance technologies reportedly penetrated digital servers, the smartphones of Hezbollah members and their families, as well as cameras surrounding key facilities, culminating in what could be described as a systematic campaign of “technological assassination,” as illustrated by the explosions involving pagers and wireless communication devices. The resulting shock severely disrupted Hezbollah’s command-and-control structure while undermining confidence in virtually every electronic device its personnel possessed. At the same time, Hezbollah remained dependent on fixed weapons depots and traditional logistical supply routes crossing the border, whereas Israel managed the battlefield through a “digital military cloud,” linking drones in the air, intelligence officers monitoring real-time data, and armored units on the ground within seconds. That level of integration deprived Hezbollah of the element of surprise that had been one of its defining advantages during the 2006 war. The military outcome was Hezbollah’s near-total paralysis. It failed to recognize that engineering fortifications and tunnel networks cannot protect themselves. Their effectiveness depends entirely on the efficiency of command, control, communications, and the preservation of tactical surprise. Another of Hezbollah’s illusions was the belief that its fortifications would remain secret and continue to catch the enemy off guard. Instead, it became apparent that Israeli intelligence penetration had been extraordinarily deep. Before the ground operation even began, the Israeli military reportedly possessed detailed maps of these tunnel networks, including their structural design and principal vulnerabilities. Ultimately, fortifications and armies alike require a cohesive and resilient home front. During the July 2006 war, Hezbollah enjoyed broad political and popular support that transcended sectarian divisions. That landscape has changed dramatically. Lebanon entered this war deeply divided, suffering from an unprecedented economic collapse and a state whose institutions had been severely weakened. A very large segment of Lebanese society, across different communities, viewed the decision to go to war as a unilateral one, taken in pursuit of a regional Iranian agenda, without consulting the state or the country’s other political and social components. At the same time, Hezbollah’s own social base, displaced by the thousands, faced an acute humanitarian, economic, and social crisis, compounded by growing isolation. The absence of broad national support transformed what could once have been presented as a collective national defense effort into a politically and socially isolated factional conflict. This imposed enormous psychological pressure on Hezbollah’s fighters in the field. Yet Hezbollah’s rhetoric remains marked by the same arrogance and denial. Its problem is no longer merely the gap between words and deeds, but the fact that the discourse itself has become detached from reality. There is no direct engagement, no ability to impose the kind of confrontation it continues to proclaim, and no genuine change in the rules of the game. This makes it clear that what is presented as decisive power is, in reality, little more than the exploitation of an inflated reservoir of symbolic capital, sustained by the repetition of an image that no longer exists. Yesterday’s successes have become a myth; the myth has become a conviction; the conviction has turned into a discourse; and the discourse has ultimately become a substitute for reality. At that point, the weapon itself becomes part of the problem. It exists, yet it can no longer be employed in the manner proclaimed, because its actual use would immediately expose it and lead to its rapid destruction. We are thus confronted with a force that remains effective only so long as it is not used, a fatal contradiction. Added to this is the fact that Hezbollah’s discourse is inseparable from an Iranian-led regional axis, introducing yet another layer of detachment from Lebanon’s own reality. At the heart of the matter lies a mental structure that continually produces and reproduces illusion, even as events on the ground repeatedly disprove it. It is an organized illusion, carefully managed, cultivated, and imposed as a substitute for truth, until it collapses once again at the expense of the land and its people… “until God accomplishes what has already been decreed”.

At pivotal moments in history, a nation’s strength is measured not only by its military capabilities, but also by the caliber of those who represent it. High-stakes negotiations are not merely technical discussions about maps or security arrangements. They are a test of a state’s ability to defend its historical narrative while shaping its future. It is in this context that Ambassador Simon Karam stands out as one of the leading figures of Lebanese diplomacy. His authority rests neither on eloquence nor media visibility, but on quiet composure, rigor, and the integrity of a statesman who measures success by what he accomplishes for his country rather than for himself. Throughout his career, Karam has demonstrated genuine independence in both judgment and conduct. He has never regarded public office as a personal privilege, nor has he hesitated to relinquish it when it conflicted with his convictions or with what he believed to be consistent with his principles. This was reflected at several stages of his political and institutional career, culminating in his resignation as Lebanon’s ambassador to Washington, affirming that principles must always take precedence over office. The significance of that decision becomes even clearer when viewed alongside comparable diplomatic careers, where many diplomats choose to remain in office despite political disagreements. By contrast, Karam’s resignation sent a clear message: office is not an end in itself, but a means of serving the national interest. That choice has since afforded him greater freedom in any advisory or negotiating role, as he operates neither under the constraints of career considerations nor personal ambitions. This background lends him additional credibility in negotiations. A negotiator who is not bound to his position enjoys greater freedom to defend the national interest and is less constrained by concerns over preserving office. Similar forms of independence have been evident in numerous international experiences, where former diplomats have played decisive roles in sensitive negotiations after leaving official positions, drawing on their expertise without being subject to direct administrative constraints. In addition, Ambassador Karam possesses an extensive knowledge of southern Lebanon, particularly the history of Jabal Amel. That knowledge extends well beyond geography or historical documentation. It encompasses a deep understanding of Ameli society, its social and political history, and the role played by its elites and leading figures in shaping an important part of Lebanon’s national identity. The value of this expertise lies in the fact that it is not merely theoretical. It is grounded in decades of close observation of southern Lebanon’s evolution through a series of defining moments, from the period following the Israeli invasions to the profound political and security transformations the region has undergone over recent decades. This long experience enables him to grasp the dynamics of both the land and its people with greater depth, an essential asset in any discussion concerning borders, security arrangements, or the future of regional stability. For example, in any discussion of the Blue Line or disputed border points, familiarity with international legal texts alone is not enough. Understanding the reality of border villages, the extended families whose lives span both sides of the frontier, and the lived experience of communities shaped by successive conflicts becomes indispensable to building a negotiating position that is both realistic and sustainable. It is precisely here that the value of Karam’s background becomes apparent, allowing him to bridge legal principles and social realities on the ground. This interest in southern Lebanon is not a recent development. It is an integral part of his intellectual and cultural formation, leading him to view its history as a living component of Lebanon’s national memory rather than as a mere account of the past. This knowledge assumes particular importance in negotiations concerning borders, security, and the future of southern Lebanon, where the land cannot be reduced to lines on a map, but embodies a history, rights, and experiences accumulated over generations. Comparable experiences elsewhere have shown that negotiations which overlook the historical and social dimensions often produce fragile agreements, whereas incorporating those dimensions helps lay the foundations for more durable and lasting settlements. International experience has likewise shown that the most effective negotiator is one who combines law, history, geography, and politics, rather than confining the discussion to technical considerations alone. It is this tradition of diplomacy that Simon Karam represents, viewing profound knowledge not simply as an intellectual asset, but as a genuine source of negotiating strength. This dimension becomes even more significant at a particularly sensitive regional moment that could reshape the balance of power in southern Lebanon and open the way to new approaches to regional relations, where a nuanced understanding of both the territory and its people becomes an integral part of the broader equation of security and stability. From this perspective, the Lebanese delegation does not represent a particular political camp, but the Lebanese state in its entirety, together with its institutions and its history. The presence of experienced and independent figures such as Ambassador Simon Karam strengthens the delegation’s credibility and reinforces its negotiating position, particularly on issues where historical awareness must go hand in hand with legal precision. Whatever the eventual outcome of these negotiations, one fact remains constant: if Lebanon is to play an active role in shaping its own future, it needs statesmen who combine integrity, experience, and a profound knowledge of the country’s history. In this respect, Simon Karam embodies the convergence of independence, experience, knowledge, and commitment. His presence in any negotiating process reflects more than personal stature. It expresses a broader vision of the state itself: a state rooted in its history, represented by those who place principle above office, and one that sees diplomacy first and foremost as an instrument for defending rights before it becomes a means of managing balances of power.

Sohmor. A town located in the western Bekaa, home to fifteen hundred households and between five and eight thousand residents. Given its size and population, the term "village" is the most geographically appropriate way to describe Sohmor. Sohmor has been repeatedly targeted by Israeli bombardments, as if it were routine for them. If this village and its successive mayors have been a magnet for the Israeli army, its municipality has proven to be a true lightning rod. Among the top ten worst electricity bill defaulters listed by EDL are: the Southern Water Authority, the Bekaa Water Authority, and the municipality of Sohmor… Indeed, according to a report published by EDL detailing unpaid bills between November 2022 and December 2025, the modest municipal building carries an outstanding balance of $1,599,205. A quick calculation based on a unit cost of 25 cents per kilowatt shows that during the aforementioned period, the municipality consumed 6,396,820 kWh — or 170,430 kWh per month. Since numbers can be dull, a practical illustration helps: that monthly consumption is enough to continuously power 560 households in France — with emphasis on the word "continuously," a concept sorely lacking in the local electricity supply, which is even more elusive than the latest B-2 stealth bomber. A municipal building that blazes so brightly it consumes three times more electricity than the Beirut headquarters itself — which already owes $530,000 in unpaid arrears. When you discover that a modest town hall consumes more electricity than a dedicated artificial intelligence center — unless it has quietly decided to supply power to its own residents and surrounding villages — the question is no longer whether the figures published by EDL are false, but rather what story they are telling. The real challenge, of course, is understanding the source of this electrical black hole. What if the answer lay, quite literally, underground? Buried beneath the surface, where Hezbollah has long made its home of choice. In recent months, underground networks have been coming to light — proving that the famous slogan "we build, we protect" was no empty campaign promise, even if the infrastructure in question lies not above ground, but well below it. A contemporary version of The Time Machine by H.G. Wells, in which the local Morlocks have spent the past two decades busily creating not just a state within a state, but an entire country beneath the country. For years, political officials and relevant ministers — even those who chose to bury their heads in the sand — were perfectly aware of what was going on. After all, having your head buried in the ground does give you a rather clear view of what lies beneath. Historians broadly agree that Lebanon possesses an exceptionally deep civilizational heritage. Today, more than ever, that description should be taken quite literally. It becomes easier to understand why the State struggles to reassert its authority over Lebanese territory: it has simply been looking for it at the wrong level.

History does not remember only the cities where wars came to an end. It remembers the cities where new political orders were born. That is why Rome may one day be remembered not merely as the city that hosted another round of negotiations between Lebanon and Israel, but as the place where the process of reshaping Lebanon’s political and security architecture began after a war that profoundly altered the regional balance of power. The meetings scheduled in Rome are about far more than a ceasefire, an Israeli withdrawal, or a prisoner exchange, important as those issues undoubtedly are. They form part of a broader process aimed at translating the outcome of the war into a new political reality capable of preventing any return to the pre-war status quo. International experience shows that the consequences of war do not truly end when the guns fall silent. They endure until a new political order is established, one capable of addressing the causes of conflict and preventing its recurrence. That appears to be precisely what the United States is seeking to achieve in Lebanon. From President Joseph Aoun’s visit to Washington, to the Framework Agreement, and now to the Rome meetings, the sequence appears increasingly coherent. Each step seems to belong to the same broader trajectory: moving from managing Lebanon’s recurring crises toward redefining the foundations of the Lebanese State. The first objective of this process is to establish a clear principle: one State, one army, and one security authority. The issue of the State’s monopoly on the legitimate use of force is no longer merely a Lebanese or international demand. It has become the cornerstone of rebuilding the State itself. No country can fully reclaim its role while decisions of war and peace remain outside its constitutional institutions. Reducing Lebanon’s crisis to the issue of weapons alone, however, would be an incomplete reading. The country’s predicament has never been limited to the existence of an armed force operating alongside the State. It also stems from the gradual weakening of state institutions under a political system that entrenched sectarian power-sharing and transformed public institutions into spheres of political patronage. It is within that context that Nabih Berri’s role must be understood. He has remained one of the longest-serving and most influential figures at the heart of Lebanon’s political establishment. Over the past decades, his influence has extended far beyond his position as Speaker of Parliament or his political alliance with Hezbollah. He has been one of the principal architects of the system of governance that emerged after the Taif Agreement. Just as Hezbollah helped entrench a parallel security structure by maintaining an armed force outside the State’s institutions, several political actors, with Berri among their foremost representatives, helped consolidate a system of governance based on sectarian quotas and political appointments, where loyalty too often outweighed competence. The result has been an overburdened state administration, a bloated public sector, widespread disguised unemployment, and a steady erosion of the ability of public institutions to perform their most basic functions. Rebuilding Lebanon, therefore, cannot be confined to resolving the issue of weapons. It also requires rebuilding the State itself: a modern public administration, an independent judiciary, effective institutions, and appointments based on merit rather than political allegiance. This is also the context in which the growing pressure surrounding Nabih Berri should be understood. So far, Washington has not targeted him personally. Instead, it has delivered clear political signals by increasing pressure on figures and networks associated with his political circle. The underlying message appears unmistakable: the next phase will not allow the old rules of the game to endure. The objective may not be to sideline Berri but rather to redefine his role. His political experience and extensive network make him a figure who cannot simply be ignored during any political transition. The question now is whether he will become a partner in building Lebanon’s new State or remain a defender of the system that led the country into its present crisis. Hezbollah, meanwhile, faces a different kind of historic test. The challenge is no longer simply to end military confrontation, but to redefine its place within the Lebanese State. It now faces a choice: evolve into a political party operating within the framework of the State, or continue confronting a domestic and international process aimed at restoring the State’s exclusive authority. Ultimately, Rome may prove to be far more than simply another venue for negotiations between Lebanon and Israel. It could mark the beginning of a much broader negotiation over Lebanon’s future. If the Taif Agreement brought the civil war to an end and reshaped the country’s political balance, the next phase may well redefine the very function of the Lebanese State: a State that holds the exclusive monopoly over arms, the sole authority to decide questions of war and peace, restores its place within the Arab world and the international community, and rebuilds an economy capable of sustained recovery. None of this, however, is guaranteed. The United States can facilitate agreements, Arab countries can help finance reconstruction, and the international community can provide political and economic support. But the task of building the State ultimately rests with the Lebanese themselves. The real question, therefore, is not simply what the Rome meetings will produce. Rather, it is whether Rome will open the road to Lebanon’s Third Republic. A republic defined not merely by the end of war, but by the determination to eliminate the structural causes that have prevented the emergence of a genuine State for decades. For Lebanon’s next battle will not simply be fought over borders. It will be fought over the very identity of the Lebanese State itself: will Lebanon remain a country divided among competing centers of power, or will it finally become a unified State, exercising sole authority over sovereign decision-making? That is where the next chapter of Lebanon’s history will be written.

The war in Ukraine continues to be at the center of a wide-ranging debate, fueled in part by near-daily bombardments targeting key nerve centers on both sides, and more specifically the Russian and Ukrainian capitals. In order to better understand the various dimensions of this long-standing conflict, it is necessary to revisit the background and origins of what led to this (fratricidal?) war – by examining the motivations and aspirations of the different parties involved, including the West (the United States and Europe, extended to all NATO member states with the exception of Turkey), and by also recalling the early stages of the Russian offensive and the failed attempts to reach peace, or at least to open negotiations, bearing in mind that responsibility in this context is shared by many. To fully grasp the ins and outs of the various aspects of the war in Ukraine, some fundamental questions should be raised from the outset. What do Russia and Ukraine represent for the West? What could be the concrete implications of a clear-cut victory by either of the two protagonists? And by the same token, what would the consequences be for the West and the Middle East? In a series of five articles, Jean-Patrick Dayras , a rear admiral in the French Navy, sets out his vision and analysis of the issue. Looking ahead: What if... A – If Ukraine wins , recovering almost all of its territory For Ukraine, the consequences could include: – A significant strengthening of its international position. – Faster integration into the European Union, although full membership would still be a lengthy process. – Even closer military cooperation with NATO, whether or not Ukraine ultimately becomes a formal member. – A weakening of Russia’s influence in parts of Eastern Europe. For Russia, the consequences would depend on the scale of the defeat. However, several outcomes seem inevitable: – It would lose a substantial measure of its international standing. – It would bear lasting economic costs as a result of sanctions, reconstruction efforts, and the restoration of its military capabilities. – It would call the Kremlin’s policies into question, with their future direction depending on developments within Russia. – Russia’s long-standing policy in Africa, as well as in a number of BRICS+ member and associated states, would suffer as a result. Note: Chad has recently adopted a policy of closer ties with France, perhaps as a prelude to a shift in African geopolitics. This should be examined carefully before such a conclusion can be confirmed. That said, it is difficult to predict that a Russian defeat would automatically lead to regime change. History suggests that developments of this kind depend on a wide range of domestic factors. For Europe A Ukrainian victory could: – Strengthen the sense of security among the countries of Northern, Central, and Eastern Europe. – Keep defense spending at a high level. – Accelerate the energy diversification efforts already underway since 2022. For the United States Such an outcome could be presented as a success for the United States’ policy of supporting Ukraine and its alliances. However, it would not put an end to Washington’s other strategic challenges, including its rivalry with China and its difficult negotiations with Iran. For China Beijing would closely examine the lessons of the conflict, particularly with regard to the possibility of a forcible invasion of Taiwan. A Russian defeat could lead China to: – Further strengthen certain ties with Moscow in order to preserve a strategic partner, albeit from a position of dominance. – Reassess certain aspects of its foreign policy, particularly with regard to Iran, Taiwan, and the emerging alignment among Australia, Japan, South Korea, and the Philippines. For International Organizations A Ukrainian victory would be interpreted as reinforcing the principle that borders must not be changed by force. It could strengthen the credibility of certain norms of international law, although their application would remain dependent on the balance of power among states. The Limits of This Scenario Even in the event of a Ukrainian military victory, several challenges would remain: – Rebuilding the country, at an estimated cost of several hundred billion euros, which would have to be borne by Russia. – The return of refugees (that is only the view of those who believe it will happen). – Clearing vast areas of landmines. – Legal proceedings relating to alleged war crimes (it remains to be seen whether Ukrainians, too, could be implicated in similar crimes). – Future relations among Russia, Ukraine, and the European countries. Such a victory would not erase geopolitical tensions. Even if Ukraine were to achieve its principal military objectives, relations between Russia and the West would likely remain marked by enduring mistrust, increased militarization in certain regions, and a reconfiguration of Europe’s security architecture. The consequences would also depend on the circumstances in which the conflict came to an end: a negotiated settlement, a lasting ceasefire, or a decisive military defeat would not have the same implications. B – Russia Wins, Ukraine Loses Everything would depend on what is meant by “Russia wins.” The consequences would be very different depending on whether this refers to limited territorial gains, the lasting control of part of Ukraine, or a change of government in Kyiv. A Ukrainian defeat could result in: – The lasting loss of all or part of the occupied territories. – Considerable human, economic, and demographic costs. – A slowdown in reconstruction efforts and investment. – The continuation of a significant refugee movement towards other European countries. Ukraine’s political future would depend on the conditions under which the conflict ends: a ceasefire, a peace treaty, or an imposed agreement would not have the same consequences. If Moscow were to achieve its main objectives, this could result in: – A strengthening of the Kremlin’s position domestically. – The presentation of the outcome as a strategic victory. – The preservation of its influence over part of Ukraine and its neighborhood, including Moldova. However, even in the event of military success, Russia could continue to face: – Western economic sanctions. – Increased dependence on certain partners such as China, India, or other non-Western states. – High costs linked to the reconstruction of the territories under its control and the maintenance of significant military forces. For Europe A Russian victory would likely lead to: – A lasting increase in European states’ defense spending. – A strengthening of NATO’s presence on its eastern flank (but with or without the United States?). – An acceleration of policies aimed at reducing energy dependence on Russia. Some also fear that Russia’s neighboring countries, particularly the Baltic states, would seek even stronger security guarantees. For the United States The United States could see its strategy in Ukraine called into question, potentially fueling a domestic debate over its foreign policy and the level of support it provides to its allies (including those in the Arab Gulf and on the Arabian Peninsula). For China A Russian victory could be interpreted in different ways: – Some would see it as proof that a major power can achieve certain objectives despite sanctions. – Others would highlight the conflict’s very high economic, human, and diplomatic costs, which could also serve as a warning. In any case, China would emerge as the country that allowed Russia to prevail through the support it provided. It would be the great winner. Russia would no longer be a giant standing before it. For International Law Many legal experts believe that the lasting acquisition of territories through the use of force would pose a major challenge to the principle of territorial integrity of states, enshrined in particular by the United Nations. Others point out that historical precedents are varied and that international reactions often depend on the balance of power. The United Nations Security Council would see its standing decline and could even face renewed calls to question its role. The Limits of This Scenario Even in the event of a Russian victory, several factors could limit the benefits it derives from it: – The long-term economic cost. – The management of potentially unstable territories. – Continued isolation from a significant part of Western countries. – The risk of insurgency or persistent instability, depending on the areas concerned. – The victory would be tarnished by disapproval because of the length of time required to achieve an objective that had initially been expected to be reached quickly, or even easily (a war lasting longer than the First World War). – Russia’s standing in Africa would undoubtedly suffer as well. In Summary The consequences of a Russian victory would depend on its scale and on the conditions under which the war ends. European security would remain profoundly transformed, relations between Russia and Western countries would remain deeply strained for a long time, and Europe’s security order would continue to be reshaped for many years to come. By contrast, the precise effects on Russian domestic politics, the global balance of power, or future alliances remain largely uncertain and continue to be debated among specialists. The Final Word The consequences outlined above highlight that this conflict will mark the disappearance of victory as understood within the Westphalian order and model. Next article Ukrainian or Russian Victory: Consequences for the Middle East (5/5) Also worth reading on the same topic How the West chose Ukraine (1/5) War in Ukraine: the failure of the first peace efforts (2/5) War in Ukraine: Russian Strategic Mistakes and Western Clumsiness (3/5)

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

The confrontation now shaking the Middle East is no longer simply another chapter in the conflict between Iran and its adversaries, nor can it be reduced to a struggle between Tehran, the United States, and Israel. Recent developments point to a reality that extends far beyond the war itself. They raise a more fundamental question: what regional order will emerge from this confrontation, what place Iran will occupy within it, and what future awaits the network of armed groups through which Tehran has built a substantial share of its influence across the Arab world. For many years, Iran’s strategy rested on a relatively straightforward equation: safeguarding its own territory while extending its influence and deterrent capability beyond its borders through a network of allies and armed groups stretching from Iraq to Yemen, via Lebanon. This model provided Tehran with what it regarded as a “strategic depth,” enabling it to exert pressure on its adversaries from multiple theatres without necessarily turning Iranian territory itself into the primary battlefield. Yet the current war is exposing the limits of that equation and may well mark the beginning of its reversal against those who devised it. The issue is no longer confined to the actions of Iran’s allies. Iran’s neighbouring states have themselves become an integral part of the theatre of operations, while several Arab countries have come under direct attack from Iranian missiles and drones. On February 28, Kuwait, Qatar, the United Arab Emirates, and Bahrain announced that they had intercepted Iranian missiles, while Jordan also intercepted missiles after they entered its airspace. In the weeks that followed, the attacks and their repercussions spread to other Gulf states. On March 11, the Security Council adopted Resolution 2817, condemning Iranian attacks against countries in the region and demanding that Tehran bring them to an end. Here lies the first paradox that deserves careful consideration: how can Iran demand respect for its own sovereignty while treating that of its neighbours as something that may be disregarded whenever its military calculations require it? There is no doubt that Iran itself has been subjected to significant military attacks and has justified its response on the grounds of self-defence. That reality cannot be ignored in any objective analysis of the conflict. Yet a state’s right to defend itself does not automatically grant it the right to turn other countries into geographical extensions of the battlefield, particularly when those countries are seeking to remain outside the conflict or to contain its escalation. From Exporting Influence to Exporting the Cost of War One of the defining features of Iran’s regional policy is that, over the past decades, it has not merely expanded its political influence. It has also tied part of its national security to the construction of military capabilities beyond its own borders. From Tehran’s perspective, the logic was straightforward: confront adversaries far from Iranian territory in order to gain greater strategic flexibility and stronger deterrence. Yet this strategy has another face: transferring the costs of Iran’s conflicts onto other states and other societies . That is what gives the current developments their broader significance. The Gulf states, for example, are no longer what they were twenty years ago. Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates, Qatar, Kuwait, Oman, and Bahrain are now investing in economic models increasingly built on stability, foreign investment, aviation, tourism, technology, logistics, and deeper integration into global markets. For these countries, security is no longer confined to protecting national borders. It has become one of the foundations of their economic model and of their ability to pursue their long-term development projects. Consequently, when their airports, critical infrastructure, airspace, or maritime routes become part of a confrontation between Iran and a third party, the issue extends well beyond an isolated military incident. It directly challenges the very concept of sovereignty that is supposed to govern relations among the states of the region. More importantly still, this policy is not expressed solely through the Iranian state itself. This is where the second dimension of the problem begins: Iran’s armed proxies and allies. The Houthis: When an Armed Group Decides Relations Between Two States Recent developments in Yemen provide perhaps the clearest illustration of the dilemma now confronting the region. The Houthis have announced what they describe as a “naval blockade” of Saudi Arabia and have threatened vessels linked to Saudi ports, thereby taking the confrontation far beyond the confines of Yemen’s internal conflict. These threats have already prompted tankers carrying Saudi oil to alter their routes, demonstrating that their consequences extend well beyond political rhetoric to affect trade, energy markets, and international shipping. The question should not simply be: why are the Houthis acting this way? The more important question is another one altogether: who has granted an armed group operating in Yemen the authority to take decisions capable of shaping relations between that country and a neighbouring state as significant as Saudi Arabia, while simultaneously exposing Yemen itself to potentially severe military and economic consequences? This is not merely a Yemeni issue. It lies at the heart of the crisis created in several Arab countries by the model of armed groups operating alongside the state. The problem is no longer simply that Iran possesses armed allies across the region. Some of those allies are now capable of redefining their own country’s relations with its neighbours outside the framework of state institutions. That is a fundamental distinction. A political party is free to adopt whatever regional position it chooses, to support Iran or oppose it, and to express its views regarding the United States, Israel, or Saudi Arabia. That is the normal course of politics. But when a party or organisation possesses an independent military capability enabling it to transform its political position into a war that draws an entire state into the conflict, an altogether different reality emerges. From Yemen to Lebanon and Iraq What Yemen is revealing today is not without echoes of Lebanon’s own experience, even though the circumstances and contexts are different. Over recent years, the Lebanese have experienced what it means for the decision to go to war to slip beyond the authority of state institutions and become subject to calculations that lie outside their control, turning a country already burdened by a profound economic and political crisis into one of the theatres of a much wider regional confrontation. The debate, therefore, is not simply about the Lebanese position towards Israel, nor about the legitimacy of resisting occupation during particular periods of history. It raises a far more precise question: who today holds the authority to take Lebanon to war? The State, or an organisation operating within the State? Iraq faces a similar dilemma, although in a different form. Baghdad seeks to preserve its relations with Iran on the one hand, and with the Arab world, the United States, and the wider international community on the other, even as the actions of certain armed factions can leave the Iraqi state dealing with the consequences of decisions that its own government never made. The current confrontation has also shown that the calculations of some Iraqi armed factions do not necessarily coincide, in every instance, with those of Tehran. According to several reports, groups with which Iran has cultivated close ties over many years have expressed reservations about becoming involved in a large-scale war in which Iraq itself would be the first to bear the cost. That is a development worthy of close attention. For the question now beginning to emerge within these circles may no longer be: are we with Iran or against it? It may instead be this: Does Iran’s interest in this war necessarily coincide with the interests of Iraq, Lebanon, or Yemen? Armed Groups: From “Strategic Depth” to Strategic Burden This may well be where the greatest paradox of Iran’s strategy lies. For decades, Tehran invested in building a network of relationships with armed groups across the region, regarding that network as an essential component of its deterrent capability and national security. Yet what was long viewed as a source of strategic depth may, in today’s regional environment, become a strategic burden . Each time an armed group uses the territory of an Arab state to threaten another state, pressure increases not only on that group, but also on the country from which it operates. And as missiles, drones, and maritime routes increasingly become instruments employed by actors operating outside official state institutions, it becomes ever more difficult to regard the weapons held by such groups as merely an internal matter for the state in which they are based. Iran and its allies could be making a major strategic mistake if they assume that the Middle East emerging from the current war will continue to accept the same rules that prevailed before it. The Region Is Changing, and So Are the Rules of the Game A deeper transformation is now underway across the Middle East. Saudi Arabia and the Gulf states are redefining their priorities. Other Arab countries are striving to rebuild their institutions after years of war and internal division. There is a growing recognition that economic stability, regional security, and national sovereignty are no longer separate issues, but closely intertwined interests. In such an environment, it is difficult to imagine a stable regional order that would indefinitely tolerate the existence of armed organisations capable of independently taking military decisions against other states. No state can demand that its neighbours respect its sovereignty if it does not itself hold a monopoly over the use of force and the decision to wage war within its own borders. Nor can an armed organisation claim to be part of the political system when it suits its interests, only to behave as an independent state whenever questions of war and peace arise. Such an arrangement may remain viable as long as the costs of confrontation are limited. But it becomes far more fragile when a single drone or missile is capable of striking critical infrastructure, paralysing an airport, threatening a maritime route, or dragging two states into a broader confrontation. That is why what is unfolding today may amount to far more than a simple rebalancing of power between Iran and its adversaries. It may ultimately redefine what will henceforth be regarded as acceptable or unacceptable within the regional security system itself . Iran’s Greatest Miscalculation Tehran’s greatest strategic miscalculation today may be the belief that broadening the scope of confrontation will invariably strengthen its deterrent capability. That may be true from a purely military perspective, at least for a time. But a strategy is not measured solely by the number of fronts an actor is capable of opening. It must also be judged by the political and security order those fronts will leave behind once the war has ended. If Iran’s actions and the threats issued by the forces aligned with it lead Saudi Arabia, the Gulf states, Jordan, and other countries to deepen their defence cooperation, increase international pressure on armed groups operating outside state authority, and reinforce domestic demands in Lebanon, Iraq, and Yemen for the monopoly of legitimate state institutions over decisions of war and peace, then Iran may ultimately discover that the very war through which it sought to demonstrate the reach of its influence has instead contributed to undermining the environment that made that influence possible. This possibility should not be underestimated. For Iran’s regional power has never rested solely on its missiles, its nuclear programme, or its conventional military capabilities. A crucial part of that power has depended on Tehran’s ability to operate within the grey zones of the Arab state: a state that exists without possessing a monopoly over force; a government that governs without exercising exclusive authority over military decision-making; internationally recognised borders that nevertheless fail to prevent the movement of weapons and the expansion of conflict. Should those grey zones begin to disappear, one of the principal foundations of Iran’s regional influence would face a profound challenge. Iran’s Wars and Those of Its Proxies: Who Will Pay the Price? The outcome of the current confrontation remains open to multiple scenarios. It is still impossible to determine with certainty what form the regional order that emerges from it will ultimately take. One reality, however, is already becoming unmistakably clear: a region subjected to such a degree of threat and instability will not simply return to the situation that existed before the war. States will reassess their alliances, their defence arrangements, their borders, and their relations with Iran. They will also rethink how they view armed groups capable of threatening them from the territory of other states. Iran’s allies themselves may then be compelled to confront a question even more important than that of victory or defeat in the present conflict: What will remain of them, and of their states, once the war is over? The Houthis may threaten Saudi Arabia, but Yemen will be the first to bear the consequences of another war. Iraqi armed factions may choose to engage in a wider regional confrontation, but it is Iraq that will bear its economic, security, and political costs. In Lebanon, an armed organisation may regard itself as part of a broader regional equation. Yet when the fighting ends, it will be the Lebanese people who are left to rebuild their economy, their state, and their institutions. As for Iran, it may broaden the theatres of confrontation and demonstrate its ability to strike its adversaries beyond its borders. But in doing so, it also risks transforming the fear generated by its influence into the very foundation of a new regional order designed precisely to contain it. Herein lies the central paradox. What Iran spent decades constructing as a source of strategic depth could, through the excessive use of that very instrument, become the principal reason why the region seeks to establish a new security architecture aimed at preventing any state or armed group from acquiring the power to determine the destiny of other states. The real question, therefore, is no longer whether Iran and its proxies are capable of opening new fronts. They have already demonstrated that they are. The more difficult question is whether they fully appreciate that each new front may accelerate the emergence of a Middle East no longer willing to accept the rules that allowed those proxies to emerge and endure. Iran’s wars may originate in Tehran’s strategic calculations. Yet it is often the states and peoples transformed into battlefields that will pay the highest price. And in the Middle East now taking shape, the state’s monopoly over the decision of war and peace may no longer be merely a matter of domestic sovereignty, but one of the fundamental conditions of any viable regional order.

Hold on tight! By bombing Iran for the umpteenth consecutive night, the United States would allegedly have been doing nothing more than trying to communicate with Tehran. Each strike on a military or civilian target — every radar destroyed, every launch pad taken out, every oil refinery hit — would count only as a message to the adversary. It would merely be a signal to resume or continue talks under certain conditions! Or so Thomas Schelling, winner of the 2005 Nobel Prize in Economics, would have argued. In his view, it is precisely when cannons roar and fire rains from the sky that belligerents exchange messages and communicate with one another — war being nothing more than a form of negotiation carried out by other means. The American swerve In his work The Strategy of Conflict , the American essayist draws a distinction between the strategy of deterrence (deterrence) and that of compellence (compellence) and pushes it to its furthest limits. Accordingly, the situation remained in the realm of deterrence as long as US aircraft carriers were parading through warm-water seas but refraining from pulling the trigger. Then came an escalation, followed by a ceasefire. Pakistani mediation would go on to define the contours of the now-famous MOU (Memorandum of Understanding) on June 17th. By general consensus, the skill and resilience of Iranian diplomacy had muddied the waters, forcing Trump to scale back his expectations: he would no longer demand regime change for the mullahs, but settle instead for free passage through the Strait of Hormuz. In the eyes of the world, the Americans had shown a lack of credibility and resolve in moving from deterrence to compellence, and then to negotiation. Yet Trump had not said his last word. Incensed by the maneuvering of the Persian negotiators and by their skewed reading of Article 5 of the MOU in question, he seized on the pretext of a minor provocation to put war back on the table. And so the Persian Gulf was once again subjected to relentless American firepower (1). The Vietnamese precedent Much has been made of the American president's erratic behavior, his shifting strategy, and the disjointed way he conducted operations — as though his objectives were never clearly defined! But was that not jumping too quickly to conclusions in order to pile on an unconventional president? Certainly, and unless cornered, the occupant of the White House has no appetite for armed force; he is no warmonger like Netanyahu, nor a hardliner like the Pasdaran. That said, he adapts to circumstances and can, like other political actors, turn a confrontation to his advantage — war being, by its very nature, a shape-shifting phenomenon. And if he sometimes appears to be pulling back, it is only to come back on the offensive when least expected. Besides, American history has given us at least one example of negotiations conducted under intense military pressure. Under Lyndon B. Johnson, the United States had become mired in the former French Indochina. In keeping with the theory of "containment" of the communist threat, American military involvement escalated from counterinsurgency to a war of attrition. Elected president, Richard Nixon had one overriding concern: bringing the boys home without losing too much face. Secretary of State Henry Kissinger took charge of winding down that bloody legacy. In Paris, negotiations began between the parties involved, including the Americans and the North Vietnamese. But since the latter showed no sign of yielding to his arguments, "dear Henry" combined, with consummate skill, intensive negotiations with a fierce military escalation, "following the principle of coercive diplomacy (coercive diplomacy) and the madman theory (madman theory) already outlined by Richard Nixon" (2). The Paris Peace Accords were subsequently signed in January 1973. Hormuz and the Jabal Amel An identical pattern is now playing out around Hormuz, now that Trump has realized that deterrence alone is not enough to resolve the issue and that he cannot afford a war of attrition — the Iranian adversary having proven far tougher than he anticipated. Seasoned observers can take some comfort; from here on, it will be the logic of "compellence" that sets the tempo. The brute force the Americans have deployed over more than twelve consecutive nights is not aimed at destroying the Iranian armed forces, but at compelling Tehran to change its behavior. It is by making "the political, military, and economic cost of war sufficiently high" that the United States will pressure the land of the mullahs into showing reason at the negotiating table — negotiations that have not truly been suspended, despite all the declarations and bluster. In short, the airstrikes would serve as a diplomatic lever. The moral of the story In light of this framework, let us consider what lies ahead in southern Lebanon: Israel will continue its war of coercion for as long as Hezbollah has not capitulated. The scorched-earth policy and systematic destruction — a diplomatic lever like no other — will continue to unfold before our eyes. Faced with the inevitable, Arafat did withdraw from Beirut, arms and all — that was in 1982. At the request of Sunni notables, he chose not to turn our capital into another Stalingrad. Credit where credit is due! That said, can we hope for the same level of understanding from Tehran? That defiant capital, that laboratory of Khomeinist subversion, has other plans in mind: it intends to fight to the last Shiite. Lebanese, this is how the world works! And history will record that the Iranian showed none of the same empathy as the Palestinian! 1- As evidence of the relevance of the exchange theory, consider that US aircraft have been striking Iranian installations since July 7th, while Tehran has only retaliated by hitting Kuwait, Qatar, Bahrain, Oman, and Jordan, on the pretext that these countries host US bases. It is indeed striking to see exclusively American targets — such as aircraft carriers — spared so far. 2- The madman theory refers to a foreign policy approach conceived by President Richard Nixon. It was designed to suggest to adversaries that they were dealing with a leader whose behavior was unpredictable and who possessed an enormous capacity for destruction.