Analyze

Salman Rushdie’s The Eleventh Hour is not a novel in the conventional sense, but a collection of five interconnected stories published after the assassination attempt against him in 2022. It stands among his most contemplative works, exploring old age, mortality, identity, and freedom. The “eleventh hour” is more than a moment in time. It is a sign. It evokes a civilization that senses it has reached its final test: the rise of populism, the erosion of democratic values, violence against free expression, and the identity crisis unsettling a globalized world. In this sense, the eleventh hour becomes a metaphor not merely for an individual stage of life, but for an entire civilization confronting itself. Two years after Knife , in which Rushdie reflected on the attempt on his life, this new book marks a return to fiction through stories haunted by the inexorable passage of time in a new era. The eleventh hour is the hour before sunset. In everyday language, it also signifies the last possible moment to act before it is too late. In the opening story of the collection, the phrase becomes a metaphor for the late stage of life reached by “Junior” and “Senior,” two neighbors who are almost brothers: inseparable, yet unable to endure one another. Both are eighty-one years old. If a long life resembles a twilight destined to fade into midnight, they have already entered their eleventh hour. “You look dreadful,” Junior tells his companion. “Just as you do every morning. You look like a man waiting only for death.” Senior shakes his head solemnly, faithful to the ritual that has long defined their friendship, and replies: “At least I look better than a man who’s still waiting for life.” Senior, who had been a railway executive, a mathematics professor, and a singer of Vedic hymns celebrating the passage of time, had lived a rich and accomplished life. Junior, by contrast, had found little beyond disappointment. Yet they are united by the same bitterness, born of regret for having lived either too intensely or not intensely enough. Life and death have become nothing more than two neighboring balconies. The final story in the collection, “The Old Man in the Square,” can be read as a defense of disagreement within society, of that spirit of argument that upholds every individual’s freedom to think differently. It suggests that little now binds people together except argument itself, elevated into a form of artistic expression in an age of perpetual “yes,” where any debate becomes suspect the moment it fails to command unanimous approval, however absurd that approval may be. Through this allegorical tale, Salman Rushdie condemns the global temptation toward simplification. “We are not melodramatic creatures,” he writes, before concluding the collection with the bitter observation that “words fail us.” Yet the book itself proves precisely the opposite. Words have not failed Rushdie, nor has the wit that animates his narrators, who bear witness to characters struggling to come to terms with their own destinies. Thus, in the story “Kahani Musical,” a couple separates after the birth of their daughter. The father chooses to leave for the Moon, not Earth’s satellite itself, but an experimental community where he hopes to discover meaning by serving soup to the followers of what appears to be a new sect, a fellowship of fellow dreamers and eccentrics, while humanity continues its existence as a population of castaways on planet Earth. Whether written in a richly baroque style or in striking simplicity, the stories collected in The Eleventh Hour weave together imagination and melancholy in a manner reminiscent of Victory City (2023), Quichotte (2020), and The Golden House (2017). They read like the closing movement of a vast literary composition and, as several Anglo-American critics have suggested, perhaps foreshadow a final major novel inspired by both Thomas Mann’s The Magic Mountain and Franz Kafka’s The Castle , two “great books about strange miniature worlds” akin to the one Rushdie himself has long dreamed of creating as a politically engaged Anglo-American writer. This is what makes literature the most interactive of all art forms. It bears little resemblance to artificial intelligence, which, Rushdie argues, has already “created new religions” by feeding exclusively on what already exists, while remaining incapable of bringing into being something no one has ever imagined before. Its lack of a sense of humor, he adds with characteristic irony, is another of its major shortcomings, one that causes more than enough trouble on its own. In an interview with the French weekly Le Point , Salman Rushdie acknowledges a profound sense of helplessness in the face of the world’s trajectory. Yet he finds solace in the adventure of imagination. Remaining faithful to his convictions, he believes that humanity is passing through a moment of grave danger, that the world’s fault lines are growing ever deeper, and that literature alone still offers a place of reconciliation, in those “places where we do not die.” “People today are far too certain of what everything is,” he observes. “Literature, by contrast, is the kingdom of doubt and questioning.” That reflection resonates powerfully with today’s polarization, at a time when growing segments of the public are rejecting the Trump administration’s conduct of war. Yet, Rushdie argues, that is far from the whole story. As he tells the French magazine: “I don’t even think he really knows what he’s trying to do. If he were genuinely interested in bringing about regime change in Iran and restoring democracy there, that would be a good thing. But is that really what serves his interests? We are confronted with a slightly mad American president waging war against a fascist theocratic regime. I am on no one’s side except that of the Iranian people, who are never consulted.” In his view, everyone today is expected to choose between competing narratives that seek less to persuade than to crush one another. “I reject catastrophe. The world can change in another way. Look at what has just happened in Hungary with Viktor Orbán. In America, too, the winds of change are beginning to blow. We will not know what is really happening until the midterm elections in November, but we can already see a powerful public rejection of the Trump administration. The end of the Trump phenomenon may well trigger the fall of other dominoes. But let us be cautious. I am a very poor prophet.” These remarks acquire a deeply symbolic meaning when Rushdie speaks of the world we inhabit, a world in which divisions have become so profound that they now define the age itself. Here one can discern a striking intellectual affinity between Salman Rushdie and the late Edgar Morin, despite the different fields in which they worked, literature in one case, philosophy and sociology in the other. That affinity lies in a shared philosophy of complex identity and a common rejection of reductionist thinking. Morin’s fundamental question was: “Can we be all of these things at once?” His answer was that identity is inherently multiple and composite. Rushdie gives literary form to that very idea in works such as Midnight’s Children , The Satanic Verses , and his memoir, refusing to be confined within a single religious or national identity. His fiction embodies this complexity through characters who fully inhabit multiple affiliations, a vision that also finds an echo in the writings of Régis Debray. The eleventh hour is not the moment of the end. It is the moment of the final test. What is being tested is not so much the strength of states as their ability to generate a new meaning for the international order. Great wars do not merely redraw maps. They also transform the language through which power, legitimacy, and identity are understood. Every major conflict produces more symbols than victories. What appears on the battlefield as a military event is transfigured in public discourse into a symbol that reshapes the collective imagination: the name of a historical moment in which an old meaning collapses before a new one can take root. Caught between resentment toward geography, the burden of history, and the world’s deepening fault lines, humanity nevertheless continues to nurture an almost utopian longing: the dream of living on the Moon.

For more than three decades, Lebanese politics has been closely associated with the name of Nabih Berri. Since assuming the speakership of Parliament in 1992, Berri has outlasted presidents, prime ministers, regional wars, international interventions, and profound geopolitical transformations. He has become far more than the head of the legislative branch. He established himself as one of the principal architects of post-Taif Lebanon and the undisputed political leader of the Amal Movement. Yet politics inevitably raises the same question whenever a leader remains in power for so long: what comes next? The issue is not whether Berri will step down tomorrow or years from now. Nothing suggests that his departure is imminent. The real strategic question is whether Lebanon is genuinely preparing to move from a political system centered on individuals to one built upon institutions. This debate extends far beyond the Amal Movement and the Shiite community. In many respects, it is a test of Lebanon’s own capacity to evolve toward a more institutional political order. The End of an Era Few politicians in the Middle East have maintained such influence for so long. His longevity was no accident. Berri mastered the art of balancing Lebanon’s competing domestic forces while maintaining working relationships with Damascus, Tehran, Riyadh, Paris, Washington and, whenever necessary, international mediators. Within Lebanon’s Shiite political landscape, an unwritten division of labor gradually took shape: Hezbollah became the dominant military and ideological force, while Berri positioned himself as the institutional face of Shiite political participation within the Lebanese state. This division of roles helped preserve a relatively stable internal balance for decades, while simultaneously contributing to the gradual weakening of state institutions. History, however, rarely allows political formulas to endure indefinitely. The regional environment that sustained this balance is now undergoing profound change. Iranian influence is facing growing challenges. Arab states are re-engaging with Lebanon under new conditions. The United States continues to emphasize strengthening state institutions and reforming the security sector. Debate over Hezbollah’s future role has become increasingly frequent, while pressure continues to mount on the Lebanese state to restore its monopoly over legitimate authority. Against this backdrop, the question of succession inevitably becomes part of a much broader conversation. Beyond the Familiar Names Media discussions often reduce the succession question to the search for a single heir. The reality, however, is far more complex. Among the names most frequently mentioned within the Amal Movement is Ali Hassan Khalil, one of Nabih Berri’s closest political associates and a former finance minister. His experience and longstanding proximity to Berri make him a natural heir within the movement’s traditional hierarchy. Yet international sanctions, corruption allegations, and deep political polarization significantly complicate his prospects of emerging as a broadly unifying national figure. Another name that regularly surfaces is Jamil Hayek, head of Amal’s Political Bureau. Hayek possesses extensive organizational experience and enjoys considerable credibility within the movement’s institutional structure. But organizational leadership does not automatically translate into political authority on the national stage. Other senior Amal figures, such as Qabalan Qabalan and Hani Qobeissi, also possess substantial parliamentary and organizational experience. Yet none currently appears capable of replicating Berri’s unique combination of political legitimacy, negotiating skills, regional relationships, and institutional authority. That alone suggests Lebanon is unlikely to witness the emergence of “another Nabih Berri.” Could the Next Leader Come from Outside Amal? The more intriguing possibility is that Shiite leadership in the post-Berri era may no longer remain confined to Amal’s traditional hierarchy. One name frequently mentioned is retired Major General Abbas Ibrahim, the former Director General of General Security, whose career stands apart from that of conventional politicians. Throughout his years in office, he built an extensive network of relationships across Lebanon’s political spectrum while maintaining communication channels with Arab governments, Western capitals, and influential regional actors. Unlike traditional politicians, his reputation rests on crisis management, hostage negotiations, intelligence diplomacy, and a deeply pragmatic approach to dialogue. Whether those qualifications can evolve into political leadership remains uncertain. Experience in the security services does not automatically translate into electoral legitimacy. Yet during periods of transition, states often turn to consensus figures capable of bridging competing political camps. Another name occasionally put forward is MP Jamil El Sayyed. Despite his long career in the security establishment, El Sayyed has sought to project an image of independence from Lebanon’s traditional party structures. His criticism of the country’s established political elite has earned him support among those seeking an alternative discourse within the Shiite community. At the same time, he remains one of Lebanon’s most controversial public figures. His confrontational political style may energize his supporters, but it also makes the pursuit of broader national consensus considerably more difficult. Neither Abbas Ibrahim nor Jamil El Sayyed currently represents a clear succession project. Their significance lies elsewhere: they illustrate that the next chapter of Shiite politics may not be written exclusively within Amal’s organizational framework. The Real Question Is Institutional Focusing exclusively on personalities risks overlooking the far more significant transformation already underway. Modern political systems do not simply ask who will succeed a leader. They ask whether institutions themselves are capable of producing new leadership. This is where Lebanon faces its greatest challenge. For decades, political parties across the country’s sectarian spectrum have revolved largely around personal authority rather than internal democratic mechanisms. Leadership transitions have generally been shaped by individual influence, family networks, or exceptional political circumstances, rather than by transparent institutional processes. The Amal Movement is no exception. The real opportunity presented by the post-Berri era lies in transforming Amal from a movement identified with a single historic leader into a fully institutionalized political party, governed by internal elections, regular leadership renewal, policy debate, and meaningful accountability. Such a transformation would strengthen the movement rather than weaken it. Strong institutions outlive their leaders. Political systems built primarily around individuals rarely do. A Test for Lebanon’s Shiite Community Lebanon’s Shiite community itself now stands before a historic opportunity. For decades, its political representation has been dominated by two major organizations whose legitimacy was forged in the context of war, the “resistance,” and regional conflict. The years ahead, however, may require an entirely different political vocabulary. Economic recovery. State-building. Institutional reform. Foreign investment. Judicial independence. Administrative modernization. These priorities call for political leaders capable not merely of mobilizing supporters, but of governing. Ultimately, the next generation of Shiite leaders will be judged less by their wartime credentials than by their ability to rebuild the Lebanese state. The Post-Berri Era In the end, Lebanon’s future should not be measured by whether anyone succeeds Nabih Berri by reproducing his extensive control over state institutions, along with the patronage networks and indiscriminate public-sector hiring that produced widespread disguised unemployment. No one is likely to replicate that model. The more fundamental question is whether Lebanon can finally free itself from its chronic dependence on supposedly indispensable leaders. If the post-Berri debate is reduced to selecting another “strongman,” Lebanon will merely reproduce the same political culture under a different name. If, however, the transition encourages stronger political parties, transparent leadership selection mechanisms, institutional governance, and broader political pluralism within the Shiite community, then Berri’s departure, whenever it comes, may mark not the beginning of instability, but the beginning of genuine political maturity. Lebanon does not need another indispensable man. It needs indispensable institutions. And more than any succession battle, that is what will shape the country’s next political chapter.

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. 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 — examining the motivations and aspirations of the various parties involved, including the West (the United States and Europe, extended to all NATO member states with the exception of Turkey) — and also to recall the early stages of the Russian offensive and the failed attempts to achieve peace, or at least negotiations, bearing in mind that responsibility in this context is shared by many. Jean-Patrick Dayras, Rear Admiral (ret.) In a series of five articles, our contributor Jean-Patrick Dayras, a rear admiral in the French Navy, presents his vision and analysis of the issue. 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 might be the concrete consequences of a clear-cut victory by either of the two protagonists? And by extension, what would the implications be for the West and the Middle East? Before addressing these different angles, an overview of the background and origins of this conflict is undoubtedly an essential starting point. The trigger for the conflict was, to a certain extent, the Maidan movement, which was driven by Ukrainian youth. They perceived former Ukrainian President Viktor Yanukovych's refusal to sign the association agreement with the European Union in November 2013 as a betrayal of the direction they had hoped their country would take. The main motivations of this younger generation at the time were: the aspiration for a higher standard of living; the building of a rule-of-law state; the fight against corruption; freedom of movement and the ability to travel, study, and work more easily in Europe; and the affirmation of cultural and political identity. Part of the younger generation, particularly in western and central Ukraine, felt culturally closer to Europe than to Russia — unlike the eastern regions. The country was therefore far from sociologically homogeneous. In this context, Maidan was a broadly popular movement. The United States supported the Ukrainian opposition, both politically and by funding, over the course of many years, programs backing civil society, independent media, and democratic institutions. In the background, there were clear geopolitical interests. Following Georgia and the Baltic independence movements, Russia had clearly signaled its leitmotif: "no further." Did the CIA — always highly active and frequently involved — support or provoke Maidan? It is possible, though not certain. The United States' track record since 1970 suggests it was not uninvolved. Russia portrays Maidan as a CIA-backed coup. That is not proof in itself. But it is possible — even reasonable — to think so. European and American political leaders expressed their support for the protesters and for closer ties with Europe. Moreover, Ukrainian media, social networks, universities, student associations, and civil society organizations — some of which received funding from Western sources or international foundations — played a significant role in this regard. Russia, for its part, was expanding its influence on economic, media, and political fronts in order to bring Ukraine into the Eurasian Economic Union. Out of the frying pan and into the fire After Maidan, relations between the two countries were radically transformed. The Yanukovych government fell in February 2014. A referendum was held in Crimea in March 2014, following which, given the outcome, Russia annexed the peninsula. This annexation has been condemned as illegal by a large number of UN member states, who deliberately overlook the history of Crimea's attachment to Ukraine. In the spring of 2014, pro-Russian separatists — backed by Russia with financial support, weapons, and advisers — seized control of cities in the Donetsk and Luhansk regions of the Donbass. Ukraine launched an operation to retake the occupied territories. The war on Ukrainian soil had begun. Initially, it was a civil war! The Minsk Agreements (I and II) The Minsk I agreement (aimed at halting the war in the Donbass) was signed on September 5, 2014, by representatives of Ukraine, Russia, the OSCE, and the separatists. However, the ceasefire was quickly violated and fighting resumed. The Minsk II agreement was signed on February 12, 2015, by Petro Poroshenko, Vladimir Putin, Angela Merkel, and François Hollande. It provided for military and political measures, but their implementation was the subject of deep disagreements. Low-intensity fighting continued between 2015 and 2022. The Minsk process officially remained the diplomatic basis for negotiations, but it was never fully implemented. Regarding this agreement, Chancellor Merkel and President Hollande subsequently made public statements — ones that did little credit to either of them. In the wake of Maidan, Ukraine signed an association agreement with the European Union. It undertook reforms in the areas of justice, policing, and anti-corruption, with results widely considered mixed. It gradually deepened its cooperation with NATO without becoming a member. The first point, and especially the last, are fundamental and cannot be overlooked when examining the responsibilities of the various parties in this tragic conflict — one involving two countries that share deep historical ties with each other and with Europe, and which therefore cannot be viewed in the same light as other conflicts between rival nations with long-standing grievances. The invasion and the Western response On February 24, 2022, Russia invaded Ukraine, with the stated aim of ensuring Russian security and protecting Russian-speaking populations in the eastern regions. This act of aggression is contrary to international law, all the more so given that Russia is a permanent member of the UN Security Council. Yet in invoking this argument, the United States and European countries failed to acknowledge their own wrongdoing — as reflected in their various behaviors and numerous harmful actions, particularly regarding the legitimacy of the change of power in 2014. This question remains the subject of intense political and historical debate. The failure to acknowledge this wrongdoing amounts to a form of responsibility, if not outright culpability. Everything appears to have been premeditated and deliberate. Even today, this goes unmentioned by those who advocate for the eradication of Russia — and the word is not too strong — while speaking out about it in the West today is enough to invite accusations of being pro-Russian. Is this really how Western values are meant to be championed? Is this how enlightened peoples are supposed to be guided toward understanding world affairs — particularly European ones — and what is truly at stake? Without delay, and under the influence of official "Services" and lobby groups opposed to Russia — particularly those within the European Union — Western populations rallied behind Ukraine. It is worth recalling that before 2022, various media outlets and news websites had conducted street interviews revealing that many people struggled to locate Ukraine on a map. Older surveys on geographical literacy had similarly shown that in several Western countries, a significant portion of the population had difficulty placing certain Eastern European countries, including Ukraine, on a map. Following the Russian invasion, scientific polls focused on support for Ukraine, sanctions against Russia, arms deliveries, the reception of refugees, and fears related to the conflict. However, these polls did not address geography, nor the underlying causes of the invasion. This is yet another reason to question whether Western political leaders were genuinely trying to "bring down" Russia while concealing their true original intentions — namely, to tie Ukraine to Europe, and above all to NATO, at any cost. The United States knew, or should have known, that this would constitute a casus belli for Russia. Following the independence of the Baltic states (1989–1991), and later in the wake of events in Georgia that led Russia to recognize South Ossetia and Abkhazia as independent states in 2008, Russia had made clear its desire to maintain buffer states shielding it from the West. Are the Western values so frequently invoked — yet never clearly defined — rooted in nothing more than a desire for revenge? A desire to punish Russia, the former USSR? That is hardly a vision for the future. Many European countries have gone to war, fought one another, and mourned countless deaths across numerous battlefields. How did they nonetheless manage to make peace? Was Boris Johnson's credo that "the Russians must be eradicated"? It would appear so. On this occasion, Johnson displayed a hatred directed not just at Putin, but at Russians as a whole. Yet a rapprochement between Russia and Europe had been considered during two distinct periods: after the collapse of the Soviet Union, President Yeltsin had sought to develop close ties with Western countries, and some European and Russian leaders had raised the possibility of deeper integration over the very long term; then in the early 2000s, under Vladimir Putin, relations with the EU were relatively constructive and grounded in a spirit of cooperation. During this second period, discussions centered on a strategic partnership — not EU membership. From 1996 to 2022, Russia was a member of the Council of Europe, an organization distinct from the European Union, before being expelled following the invasion of Ukraine. Why, between 1996 and 2020, was no attempt made to grant Russia associated state status, as could similarly have been done with Turkey or Morocco? Where would we stand today — particularly given the rivalry between China and the West, which is already very much a reality?

The long and interminable conflict sparked by the Iranian mullah regime's endless transgressions will likely go down in history as a conflict defined by the verbal diarrhea that all parties engage in, throwing up a thick smokescreen that barely conceals their internal failures and, above all, a bewildering and pervasive incoherence. This incoherence manifests almost daily in actions that are completely at odds with the bellicose, deeply irrational statements made on all sides. Iran's leaders, for example, have chosen to pursue a lasting, strategic agreement with the United States. Yet at the same time, they continue to label the US an "enemy" and the "Great Satan" that must be brought down and "inevitably" avenged, sooner or later, no matter the circumstances — as stated on Saturday evening in a communiqué attributed to the new Supreme Leader, the elusive and mysterious Mojtaba Khamenei, about whom it remains unclear whether he is still alive, and if so, whether he is truly in full possession of his mental faculties, or whether, on the contrary, his virtual presence is being kept alive in people's minds by Tehran's new powerbrokers, who attribute decisions and positions to him as events unfold and the balance of power within what remains of the Islamic Republic continues to shift. To complete the picture, it must be noted that Iran's senior officials have indeed signed a roadmap with Washington outlining talks spread over 60 days — yet they miss no opportunity to stress that they have no trust in the United States and will only agree to enter negotiations if the US administration "changes its attitude," "stops its threats," and "respects the terms of the memorandum of understanding"! This refusal to negotiate has not, however, prevented the resumption of direct bilateral dialogue — contradictions aside — as a meeting of American and Iranian "experts" was scheduled for this Sunday, July 12, in Pakistan. The belligerent — and often outright insulting — posture that the pillars of the Islamic Republic continue to adopt toward the United States, despite the calm atmosphere that should normally surround any peace negotiation, reached new heights mid-week when Iran's permanent representative to the United Nations "advised" the American ambassador, in the middle of a Security Council meeting, to be "polite" (!), adding that "it would be better for him and for his country"! American incoherence Yet incoherence is not confined to the Iranian side alone. President Donald Trump stated mid-week that negotiations with Iran's leaders — whom he described as "sick" — "are pointless and a waste of time," adding that the memorandum of understanding with Iran is "null and void." Nevertheless, he went ahead and gave the green light to restart talks (!), claiming that the Iranians had specifically requested the resumption of negotiations and that he had agreed to their request — while simultaneously signaling to the Islamic Republic that the ceasefire now belongs to the past… Iranian leaders were quick to respond on Saturday, asserting that they had never requested a resumption of talks and that reports to that effect are "allegations" spread by "media close to Israel." They further stated that Iran refuses to re-engage with US negotiators until the Trump administration has "reversed its (hostile) positions" and until the American-Lebanese-Iranian committee tasked with resolving the South Lebanon issue has been formed, in accordance with the agreement reached with US Vice President JD Vance under the memorandum of understanding — signaling that Iran is once again asserting its desire to reclaim the Lebanese card, in disregard of the Lebanese government's own policy on the matter. The inconsistency in the parties' stances was further on display Saturday in the Strait of Hormuz file. The Trump administration issued an ultimatum to Tehran, demanding that it publicly release an official document acknowledging that Iranian attacks earlier in the week against three vessels in the Strait of Hormuz had been a mistake. Washington above all demanded that the Islamic Republic commit publicly and in writing to no longer carrying out attacks against tankers using that waterway. The Iranian authorities deflected the US ultimatum by claiming that this week's attacks on the three vessels were a "technical error" — even though the incidents had unfolded over a twenty-four-hour period. Adding to the absurdity: this "technical" explanation — which rules out any deliberate political act — was naively deemed acceptable by certain American officials. As for a statement committing Iran to cease attacks on shipping, Tehran sidestepped the issue by dispatching its Foreign Minister to Oman on Saturday to persuade the sultanate to issue a joint communiqué emphasizing the need to ensure freedom of navigation through the Strait of Hormuz — allowing the Islamic Republic to avoid giving the impression that it had yielded to American demands on this point. The question remains whether the Trump administration will, once again, play along with Iran's game… Lebanese-US Military Meeting On the Lebanese front, a US military delegation traveled to Yarze on Saturday, where it held a meeting with the army commander and senior officers to work out the details of establishing the pilot zones that the Lebanese army is to take charge of under the framework agreement signed by Lebanon and Israel. The initial phase of the process envisaged under this framework is expected to take shape within the coming days. Accordingly, the Lebanese government officially announced Saturday evening that Lebanon will take part in the next round of direct negotiations with Israel, to be held this time in Rome on July 15 and 16, under American supervision. Lebanon had set as a condition for its participation in this meeting that the establishment of the buffer zones — implying an initial Israeli withdrawal — be effectively launched on the ground, which appeared to have been accomplished by Saturday evening…

In ordinary life, we inhabit what anthropologists call a milieu : a space infused with memory and human relationships, made up of the home, the village square, the neighborhood shop, the mosque or the church, and the road to school. In wartime, place is transformed into space. It becomes an object of measurement and management: range, field of vision, supply line. The shift is from meaning to function, from dwelling to calculation and enumeration. It is as though the land were stripped of its story and rewritten in the language of war. War fractures our sense of belonging. Belonging is ordinarily built through stability and the quiet repetition of daily life: the same road, the same faces, the same habits. Once a place becomes threatened, belonging gives way to a state of anxiety. One remains attached to a place that may have to be abandoned at any moment. What emerges is a form of “provisional belonging”: you love the place, yet no longer trust that you will be able to remain there. This paradox leaves a lasting fracture within. The body, too, is transformed. In times of peace, it moves through familiar places almost without conscious thought. In war, it learns to bend, to enter the world of calculation: to hide, estimate distances, decipher sounds, scan its surroundings before every movement. The senses become an early warning system. The land is now understood through danger: Where can you hide? Which way can you pass? Which route offers the least exposure? At what moment? This is a form of “embodied knowledge” that reshapes our relationship with the world at an unconscious level. It is not only place that changes. Time changes as well. In war, time becomes compressed. Brief moments carry decisions of life or death. Human beings are pulled away from extended time, the continuity that links past, present, and future, into an overwhelming present. This compression weakens the capacity to plan and strengthens the instinct to react. The land is no longer the stage upon which a life is built, but the setting in which fleeting moments must be managed. Wars turn human beings into numbers. Philosophically, this is part of the rationalization of war: reducing people to units that can be counted. Here, a double alienation takes hold: alienation from the self, because I am not merely a number; and alienation from the land, which no longer recognizes my story, only my location. All of this threatens the very idea of human dignity, rooted in one’s name, one’s history, and one’s life. After war, the land is never neutral again. Every hill, every bridge bears an imprint: loss, fear, survival. Memory attaches itself to places and continually recreates them. Returning after war therefore never means returning to the “same” place, but to a place whose meaning has been reshaped. This also explains why people may feel like strangers even in their own villages. The land itself is now read through different eyes, having been treated as a defensive position, an observation post, an unsafe home, or an escape route. War creates overlapping geographies instead of a single geography. This multiplicity generates a struggle not only over control but also over meaning. Who owns the land? Not merely the one who controls it, but the one who succeeds in imposing its interpretation. This war has revealed to us a geography of Lebanon that we never truly knew. Villages have become military positions. Roads have turned into escape corridors leading away from the inferno of war. Rivers have become natural barriers. Bridges are destroyed to sever lines of communication, while the high ground becomes observation posts from which the enemy can be monitored. Fierce battles are fought to seize these elevations in order to dominate the terrain and maintain surveillance. Human beings have been reduced to numbers: the dead, the missing, the displaced, or those driven to beg for survival. Cars have become homes, while homes have been reduced to rubble. We have discovered villages, roads, hills, valleys, ravines, and rugged terrain whose existence we scarcely knew, landscapes capable either of slowing an advance or facilitating it. We did not know our country in this form. We are no longer people with a history, memories, and professions. We have become targets for aircraft, missiles, and drones, a theater of war where an enemy sees nothing extraordinary in invading and attacking us in order to fight the soldiers of an occupying state, whether directly through its own officers or through its party, which openly defines itself as an Iranian soldier. Iran exploits us in pursuit of its dream of reaching the Mediterranean, an ambition it has cherished since the time of Cyrus, only to see it frustrated time and again. All of this leaves me astonished. I find myself standing before this bitter and deeply paradoxical knowledge, this somber, painful understanding that war forces upon us. Wars do not merely transform politics. They also redraw geography in the minds of those who live through them. The places themselves remain, yet their meaning is overturned. The village that once embodied life and human relationships becomes a military position. The road that once connected people becomes a possible route to survival. The bridge that once shortened distances becomes a target. This is not simply “new knowledge.” It is a distortion of the human relationship with place. In times of peace, geography is lived. In times of war, it is measured: firing range, field of vision, supply line, or escape route. Even language changes. Instead of saying “home,” we say “position.” Instead of “valley,” we say “corridor.” Instead of “hill,” we say “strongpoint.” Most devastating of all, the human being is reduced as well. Not merely to a number, but to a category: dead, missing, displaced, or waiting for assistance. This is a brutal process of dehumanization, yet it lies at the heart of the logic of war, which sustains itself through counting, classification, and simplification. It is precisely here that the deepest pain begins: the moment a person feels they have lost their irreducible individuality and have become nothing more than another “case.”

Can Lebanon and Syria ever enjoy calm, balanced relations founded on mutual respect? It is difficult to believe so when our relationship has so often been governed by hostility, suspicion, and threats carried through. Throughout our shared history, no humiliation has been spared us, regardless of the regime ruling in Damascus. Take, for example, what befell our small country beginning in August 1948, when Khaled al-Azem*, then Prime Minister of Syria, imposed "controls on imports and an embargo on goods destined for Lebanon." In the collective memory of our fathers' generation, his name remains forever associated with the closure of the Syrian-Lebanese border in 1949—a decision driven by political motives as well as protectionist policies. It amounted to an attempt to suffocate Lebanon economically and force it into submission. Even then, Lebanon served as Damascus's whipping boy—long before Abdel Hamid Khaddam turned it into his favorite scapegoat. The political circles of Damascus have never truly accepted the Lebanese exception, even if, at times, they resigned themselves to it. Our Syrian neighbors—and brothers nevertheless—have always harbored what psychologists call mixed feelings toward Lebanon: an uneasy blend of admiration and resentment. This ambivalence has repeatedly poisoned the ties between our two countries, made all the more inescapable by geography. Lebanon, for its part, has not always been beyond reproach. From its territory—more or less treated as a sanctuary—plots were often hatched against successive governments in the Umayyad capital, whether those governments were legitimate or the product of military coups. It was enough to lead some observers to conclude that responsibility was shared. The Weight of History and the Tyranny of Geography Burdened by decades of accumulated prejudice, could Lebanon ever have maintained peaceful relations with Damascus? Ghassan Tueni, who in his younger years had briefly flirted with the idea of a Greater Syria before abandoning it, eventually arrived at a wise compromise. In his view, Lebanon should never be governed against Syria—but neither should it ever be governed by Syria. So, when Syrian leaders reassure us today about the sincerity of their intentions, we may certainly welcome their words. Yet we would be mistaken to ignore one fundamental reality: both physical and human geography have locked Syria and Lebanon into a relationship that is extraordinarily complex—perhaps even inextricable. Historically, no ruler has been able to consolidate power in Damascus without casting an eye toward Beirut and seeking to tame that vibrant city whose economic dynamism and cultural vitality have always stood in sharp contrast to Syria's centralized political tradition. Which is why one can only hope that Syria will eventually reconcile itself with the simple fact that Lebanon is not merely a piece of territory allegedly torn away from it in 1920 by the decision of French General Henri Gouraud. And even if that had indeed been the case, more than a century has now passed. Much water has flowed under the bridge, and it would be exceedingly difficult today to find Lebanese who would advocate an Anschluss with the Syrian hinterland. Is it not enough that we already share the same bed? As early as March 1950, the "economic divorce" between Syria and Lebanon had effectively been pronounced. As a punitive measure, Damascus imposed a blockade along the border. Lebanon rejected the economic integration being offered, convinced that Syrian-style protectionism was incompatible with its own ultraliberal economic model. From that moment onward, the two countries embarked on fundamentally different paths: Syria embraced socialism—first in its Nasserist version and later under Baathist rule—while the sweeping nationalization policies of the 1960s widened the gulf between them even further. The two states would never again be able to restore the masalih mushtaraka—these "common interests" inherited from the French Mandate. This may explain the reservations recently expressed by Fares Souaid, who questioned the usefulness of creating a new Lebanese-Syrian High Joint Commission when normal diplomatic relations are already conducted through the exchange of ambassadors. Such an institution would merely revive memories of the Lebanese-Syrian Supreme Council—the symbol of the darkest years of Lebanon's subjugation under the triumphant rule of Hafez al-Assad. If we are indeed to wipe the slate clean and open a new chapter with our larger neighbor, it would be sheer folly to let the wolf back into the sheepfold under the guise of a joint commission—whether economic or otherwise. *It is worth recalling that this same Khaled al-Azem was only too happy to escape the military regime that seized power in Damascus. Having taken refuge in Beirut, he marveled in his Memoirs at the freedom enjoyed by the Lebanese—a freedom from which he himself, as a political exile, was able to benefit. He was hardly the only Syrian outcast who had once denounced Lebanon and its "intolerable independence," only to end up settling here. I am thinking of Shukri al-Quwatli, Ghassan Jadid, Akram al-Hawrani, Muhammad Umran, and many others besides.

During major periods of geopolitical transformation, states are not always the driving force behind events. Yet they can find themselves in a position that allows them to redefine their role. Lebanon, which for decades has served as an arena for regional and international rivalries, may now be facing a rare opportunity to move from being a country shaped by crises to one capable of helping shape a new phase in the region. This prospect comes at a time of profound change across the Middle East, as regional and international powers reassess their priorities after years of open conflict. One of the key questions is whether the difficulties facing the US-Iran understanding process could lead to a reordering of priorities, making the strengthening of the Lebanese state part of a broader regional approach. Such a possibility does not mean that Lebanon would suddenly become the centre of international politics. Rather, it suggests a potential shift in how the country is perceived. Instead of being viewed solely as a security issue tied to regional tensions, Lebanon could increasingly be seen as a key component of a new regional balance based on stronger state institutions and greater stability. Over recent years, Iranian influence across the region has faced growing challenges. The balance of power has shifted in Syria, some of Tehran’s regional allies have seen their freedom of action diminish, and in Iraq, political currents have increasingly emphasised the importance of an autonomous and balanced national decision-making process. These developments do not signal the end of Iranian influence, but they do point to a more complex regional environment, one less conducive to reproducing the model of influence that prevailed over the past decade. In this context, Lebanon assumes particular importance. The existence of a Lebanese state capable of fully exercising its sovereignty, strengthening its military and security institutions, and securing its borders serves the interests of multiple stakeholders. For Lebanon, this path is above all about restoring the very principle of the state and the unity of national decision-making. For the international community, it offers an alternative model for managing crises, one that relies on state institutions rather than non-state actors. One of the most significant potential shifts would be a transition from an international approach focused on preventing Lebanon’s collapse to one centred on supporting state-building. Such a strategy requires a long-term vision that moves beyond emergency assistance toward sustained investment in institutions, the economy, security, and good governance. It is within this framework that the possible convergence of interests between the United States and Lebanon, as well as between Washington and Tel Aviv, can be understood. The United States has long sought to contain Iranian influence across the region, while Israel is looking for security arrangements capable of ensuring the long-term stability of its borders. Lebanon, for its part, needs a regional environment that enables it to consolidate its sovereignty and reclaim its natural role. This convergence does not necessarily imply the emergence of new formal alliances, nor does it mean that the interests of all parties are identical. It does, however, open the way to an approach based on a simple premise: that a strong state is the foundation of stability, and that capable national institutions may provide a more durable guarantee of regional security than the continued logic of confrontation. The decisive factor, however, remains Lebanon itself. No external support can produce lasting results unless it is matched by a clear domestic commitment to strengthening state institutions and affirming their primacy. Sovereignty is not merely an international demand; it is, above all, a national choice that requires broad political consensus. Against this backdrop, President Joseph Aoun’s visit to Washington on 21 July takes on particular significance. Meetings of this kind should not be measured solely by their symbolic value, but also by their ability to set a practical process in motion. If the visit leads to closer cooperation in supporting the Lebanese Armed Forces, strengthening state institutions, encouraging investment, and reinforcing stability, it could mark the first step toward redefining Lebanon’s place in the region. Historical transformations do not unfold overnight. Even if the meeting sends encouraging signals, the success of any new course will require sustained commitment from all parties, both domestically and internationally. What is needed is not simply a declaration of intent, but clear implementation mechanisms capable of shielding Lebanon from a return to the cycle of recurring crises. At the regional level, the future of relations between the United States and Iran will remain a decisive factor. Should the two countries fail to reach understandings capable of reducing tensions, Washington may increasingly seek partnerships with states and institutions able to generate stability. In that case, Lebanon could become part of a broader strategy based on strengthening states rather than managing conflicts through competing spheres of influence. The paradox is that Lebanon, which has paid a heavy price because of its geographic and political position, may now have an opportunity to turn that very position into a source of strength. Instead of remaining a crossroads of crises, it could become a meeting point of interests: between the Arab world and the international community, between stability and development, and between security and sovereignty. The period ahead will test the ability of the Lebanese people to seize this opportunity. International support, however important, cannot replace national decision-making. At the same time, national resolve requires a regional and international environment that allows it to succeed. 21 July may not, in itself, prove to be a historic turning point. It could, however, mark the beginning of a new conversation about Lebanon and the role it can play. If diplomacy is matched by concrete action, the country may begin the transition from managing crises to building the state. Ultimately, Lebanon’s future will not be determined solely by the rivalries of major powers. It will also depend on the ability of the Lebanese themselves to transform regional change into a national project capable of restoring the state to its rightful place and role.

The visit that President Emmanuel Macron began on Monday evening in Damascus, accompanied by a large ministerial delegation and the heads of major French companies, took on particular significance in the current context — one that goes well beyond the conventional scope of routine official visits. However, it was overshadowed by a serious security incident… On the political front, Mr. Macron's talks with Syrian President Ahmed al-Sharaa marked Syria's return to the international community in the post-Assad era. A comeback that is both political and economic in nature. The two heads of state announced the restoration of diplomatic relations between the two countries, which had been severed following the massacres carried out by the Baathist regime against its own population during the civil war that erupted in 2011. The economic significance of this visit cannot be overlooked either, especially as it reflects a clear convergence of interests between the two countries. France is positioning itself prominently within the enormous reconstruction and development process that Syria urgently needs after decades of destructive state control. President al-Sharaa demonstrated full awareness of this, advocating for an "economic partnership with France" which he sees as a precursor or model for a broader partnership with the European Union. In this context, both heads of state emphasized the need for Syria to once again become an "energy hub" in light of current international circumstances. On his personal X account, President Macron summarized the essence of his visit in these words: "A new partnership between Syria and France, for a new era." Syria's return to the community of nations — anchored in the need for socio-economic development and, above all, the establishment of a central state that stands as the antithesis of militia rule beholden to a regional hegemonic power — does not appear to sit well with those seeking to keep the entire Levant region mired in chronic instability and endless, open-ended conflict. This desire to cause harm materialized in the form of a double bomb attack in the immediate vicinity of President Macron's residence. The Élysée chief had left the area to head to the Syrian presidential palace, where President al-Sharaa was awaiting him, about fifteen minutes before the two explosions occurred. According to the latest toll, the blasts killed one person and wounded around thirty others, including four Syrian gendarmerie officers and the deputy minister of Tourism. The attack, condemned by President Joseph Aoun (who is expected in Washington on July 21) and by Saudi Arabia, did not disrupt the French delegation's schedule in any way. Escalation at Hormuz Pure coincidence, or carefully orchestrated timing? The double bombing in Damascus coincided with a resumption of attacks by the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps against vessels transiting the Strait of Hormuz without complying with the Pasdaran's conditions. Iranian forces targeted three ships along this vital waterway within twenty-four hours on Tuesday, including a Qatari liquefied natural gas tanker and a Saudi oil tanker. Qatar reacted sharply, strongly condemning what it described as an "unacceptable Iranian aggression" and calling on the Islamic Republic to immediately halt its "aggressive actions that endanger security in the Gulf." The Qatari Ministry of Foreign Affairs summoned the Iranian chargé d'affaires to protest the attack on the LNG tanker, which, according to some reports, is at risk of exploding as a result of the assault. Late in the evening, the Iranian Foreign Ministry described Qatar's reaction as "bewildering" and "contrary to the principle of good neighborliness"! A senior American official stressed on his part that Iran had violated the terms of the memorandum of understanding signed between the United States and the Islamic Republic, noting that the Revolutionary Guards attacked a third merchant vessel late Tuesday afternoon. The official indicated in this context that American forces shot down several Iranian drones over the Strait of Hormuz. The question remains whether, in response to the violation of the memorandum of understanding, the United States will or will not launch airstrikes against Iranian military positions and infrastructure, and what the scale and scope of such strikes might be… Late in the evening, Reuters reported remarks from an American official who stated that 'the United States in no way accepts Iran's behavior in the Strait of Hormuz, and there will be consequences'… Consequences that were duly announced shortly thereafter: the Treasury Department announced the reinstatement of economic sanctions on Iranian oil, and around midnight (Levant time), CENTCOM declared it had launched 'powerful strikes' against the Islamic Republic in response to the attacks on vessels in the Strait of Hormuz. Against this backdrop of mounting tension, two further developments in recent days have highlighted the escalatory climate that the Revolutionary Guards and the hardline wing of the Iranian regime appear intent on pursuing: the renewed belligerence of the pro-Iranian Houthi militia in Yemen toward Saudi Arabia; and the fierce hostility — accompanied by insulting remarks — publicly displayed by demonstrators at Ali Khamenei's funeral toward Iran's president and foreign minister, who were accused of adopting positions that are too accommodating toward the United States. The so-called hardline current within the regime is increasingly staking out aggressive positions in the ongoing standoff with the Trump administration. Does its behavior reflect a deliberate attempt to torpedo any potential deal with Washington? At the same time, will the head of state continue to maneuver and prioritize the 'diplomatic' path, despite the escalation being driven by the Revolutionary Guards and an attitude that is all too often arrogant — bordering on insolent — toward the United States and its leadership?

Over the course of two and a half centuries, the United States has achieved what no other nation has accomplished in modern history. From a peripheral colony on the fringes of the British Empire, it rose to become the world’s foremost economic, military, and cultural power. From the wheat and corn fields of the American Midwest to the automobile industry, the personal computer, the Internet, Hollywood, television, jazz, rock music, contemporary art, social media, fast food, and blue jeans, an entire civilizational model gradually took shape, turning the “American Idea” into a model with which the world identified for 250 years. History, however, teaches that greatness is never a permanent condition. Empires rise and eventually recede when they fail to renew the foundations of their strength. Today, the United States faces an existential question: can it lay the foundations for another two and a half centuries of global leadership, or is it entering the phase of decline that has overtaken so many great powers before it? History offers three particularly illuminating examples. The Byzantine Empire enjoyed immense wealth, remarkable scientific advancement, and a highly educated population. Yet it weakened itself by showering privileges upon the elite while granting sweeping tax exemptions to the wealthy, ultimately triggering financial collapse and eroding its capacity to govern. Spain, meanwhile, saw the riches of the New World pour into its coffers, yet squandered the opportunity to build a productive economy by deepening social inequality. Had those resources been invested more wisely, the Industrial Revolution might well have begun there before it reached Britain. Britain’s own decline, by contrast, came not through sudden collapse but through the gradual loss of the technological leadership it had established during the Victorian era with the steam engine, textile machinery, the railway, and the telegraph, as the world’s principal centers of scientific and engineering innovation shifted toward the United States and Germany. It is in this light that the philosopher George Santayana’s famous observation seems more relevant today than ever: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” The lesson shared by these historical experiences is unmistakable. Whenever a nation allows its institutions to weaken, social inequality to widen, and its universities and research centers to lose their vitality, it gradually begins to forfeit its place in the international order. That also means the United States has every opportunity to remain prosperous by the time it celebrates its five-hundredth anniversary, provided it confronts these challenges. Despite maintaining its technological and economic edge, America’s current crisis appears to be more internal than external. Public confidence in political, judicial, and media institutions has steadily eroded, accompanied by a growing conviction that the system no longer serves all citizens equally. It was in this climate that Donald Trump emerged, presenting himself as an outsider capable of “draining the swamp,” capitalizing on popular anger and the rise of populist currents. At the same time, social and cultural divisions within American society have deepened along racial, religious, and economic lines, making national consensus increasingly difficult to achieve. The framers of the Constitution, in The Federalist Papers (1787-1788), designed a political system capable of accommodating diversity and disagreement. Yet what once served as a safeguard for liberty has gradually evolved into a form of polarization that now threatens the system’s ability to generate consensus and preserve stability. It is as though a vast trap had slowly closed around American society. This helps explain why the United States appears to be drifting toward a more authoritarian direction and into what might be described as a post-scientific society. At the heart of this crisis lies an old cultural and moral question concerning the very nature of the American Idea. From its inception, the United States has been shaped by a permanent tension between the values of the Enlightenment and rational inquiry on one hand, and religious faith together with moral tradition on the other. Two influential thinkers embodied this debate. John Dewey, identified here with political realism, believed that democracy could ground its public morality in reason, education, and human dignity, and that universities were capable of cultivating responsible citizens. The theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, associated with pragmatism, adopted a more pessimistic view. He argued that human nature could never easily free itself from selfishness and racism, and that society therefore required a moral framework capable of restraining power and competing interests. Despite their differences, both thinkers agreed on one essential point: society requires a shared moral framework capable of protecting the public sphere and providing common ground for resolving political conflicts. Yet that common foundation has steadily eroded with the rise of populism, the declining regard for public service and ethical reflection in favor of media-driven emotionalism, and the spread of the moral relativism that Allan Bloom famously examined in The Closing of the American Mind . As a result, political authority has become increasingly inclined to attack the press, universities, and intellectual elites instead of reinforcing their role as pillars of democratic debate. America’s divisions no longer revolve solely around political disagreement. They now extend to the very definition of truth itself. Each camp has constructed its own version of reality amid declining trust in institutions, the weakening of traditional political parties, the growing influence of money in politics, and the shift in campaign financing away from party organizations toward wealthy donors and pressure groups, diminishing the parties’ ability to structure and regulate political life. Ironically, American history itself offers a striking counterexample to these developments. In the summer of 1754, the young George Washington committed serious military mistakes during the Battle of Jumonville Glen, and his recklessness helped ignite the French and Indian War. Yet that defeat became a defining moment in his personal development. From it he learned discipline, caution, flexibility, and self-restraint, qualities that later enabled him to lead the newly founded republic. The episode demonstrated that failure is not the opposite of leadership but one of the conditions that makes mature leadership possible. Many observers believe that the United States is now moving along the opposite path. The growing erosion of institutional independence, the weakening of checks and balances, and the expanding role of the executive branch in both the economy and public administration reflect a conservative nationalist tendency that is redefining neoliberalism in the service of a more centralized state. These developments coincide with profound global transformations marked by the restructuring of supply chains, intensifying competition for capital and talent, and strategic rivalry over technology and energy in a world steadily evolving toward multiple centers of power. The United States is no longer the world’s only major actor. China has firmly established itself as an economic and technological powerhouse, the European Union is striving to preserve its strategic weight, Russia seeks to reassert its spheres of influence, and India continues its rise as an emerging global power. As the international system becomes increasingly fragmented and competitive, American influence can no longer be taken for granted as it was in the aftermath of the Second World War. Two hundred and fifty years after its independence, the United States still possesses the assets needed to renew its global role. Yet that renewal cannot rest on military power alone. It requires stronger institutions, reduced inequality, restored confidence in democracy, and the revival of the American Idea as a project grounded in the common good, faith, and the rule of law. The destiny of nations is shaped not only by their wealth or their armies, but also by their enduring capacity to reexamine themselves before history rewrites their ending. The world’s attachment to the United States has never rested solely on its status as the greatest military power. Before anything else, it was attached to an idea. From the Declaration of Independence onward, the American project was never simply about building a new state. It sought to create a political, cultural, and economic model that would redefine modernity itself. From that idea emerged a succession of transformations that reshaped the world, to the point where American influence often extended far beyond America’s own borders. The question today is therefore not whether the United States remains the world’s leading power, but whether it still possesses the moral and institutional foundations that once inspired the world to believe in the appeal and enduring promise of the American Idea. Perhaps the greatest challenge lies in the rapid erosion of those very foundations. Politics has increasingly become an exercise in emotional mobilization rather than reasoned judgment. Public debate has fallen captive to populism, while universities, the media, and the institutions traditionally responsible for cultivating the political elite, including increasingly hollowed-out political parties, have steadily lost their role as places where a shared understanding of truth can be forged. The disagreement dividing Americans no longer concerns only which policies to pursue, but the very definition of reality itself, arguably the deepest fracture any democracy can face.

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