Analyze

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.

The scene was impeccably choreographed in the Oval Office on Tuesday, July 21, 2026. On one side, Donald Trump, promising military aid and offering a spectacular economic opening by lifting a forty-year-old aviation embargo. On the other, Lebanese President Joseph Aoun, brandishing an official document presented as the definitive roadmap for disarming Hezbollah. To Western observers, the trade-off looked perfect: an extension of Lebanese state sovereignty in exchange for American sponsorship to permanently drive Iranian influence out of the Levant. Yet behind the obligatory smiles, handshakes, embraces, and witty remarks, this summit — however promising — risks becoming yet another diplomatic illusion.

For the first time since 2009, a Lebanese president walked through the doors of the White House this week not as a supplicant coming to beg for attention, but as the bearer of a plan. On Tuesday, President Joseph Aoun sat across from Donald Trump and handed him a written proposal: a roadmap to dismantle Hezbollah's arsenal, consolidate all weapons in the country under the exclusive authority of the Lebanese state, and in return, secure an Israeli withdrawal from the territory the Israeli army still occupies in the south. Trump, for his part, struck an almost paternal tone. "We feel very good about Lebanon," he told reporters, adding that the country had been "very badly treated" and deserved to be "treated with the respect it deserves." He acknowledged in the same breath that "there is a Hezbollah problem" — as if he were diagnosing, in a single phrase, both Lebanon's tragedy and its opportunity.

Since the end of the July 2006 war, Lebanese observers and foreign analysts alike have tended to measure Hezbollah’s strength by the number of missiles it possessed, the size of its arsenal, or its ability to threaten Israel. Today, however, events call for an entirely different yardstick. The question is no longer how many weapons the group still retains, but whether it remains capable of rebuilding the military strength it spent more than four decades constructing. This lies at the heart of the current phase. Following the meeting between Lebanese President General Joseph Aoun and U.S. President Donald Trump, the sustained U.S. diplomatic engagement that preceded and followed it, the negotiations underway in Rome, and the increasingly persistent discussion surrounding the expansion of the Lebanese Army’s deployment and the linkage between reconstruction and the restoration of the Lebanese state’s authority over security decisions, it has become increasingly clear that the international approach no longer seeks simply to disarm Hezbollah through political agreement or military action. Instead, it aims to make the reconstitution of its military capabilities increasingly difficult, if not impossible.

For more than 11 consecutive days, the Islamic Republic of Iran has been subjected every night to intensive U.S. strikes and raids targeting Revolutionary Guard positions, military infrastructure, and communication routes across several parts of the country. At the same time, the maritime blockade imposed by the U.S. military on Iranian ports is severely choking an economy that was already in an especially critical condition. To top it all off, the regime itself appears to be beset by deep internal divisions that threaten its very survival. Faced with such an increasingly entropic situation – one in which it has become mired as a direct result of its own expansionist and hegemonic policies, which recognized no limits – the authorities in Tehran are now seeking to “export” the conflict by extending it across the region, while carefully avoiding Israel. At the same time, they are attempting to exploit to the fullest a card they wield through methods characteristic of militias and organized crime: the threat of paralyzing international shipping lanes, thereby placing a substantial portion of the global economy at risk. This strategy of exporting its own crisis has translated into drone and missile attacks not only against the Gulf states, as has been the case since the conflict began in June 2025, but increasingly against Jordan, Iraq – where Iranian opposition groups have been targeted – and, most recently, Syria.

Let us set aside, if only for a moment, the objections raised by the framework agreement, the political divisions it has generated, and the conflicting positions it has provoked. Instead, let us ask a different question, one that may prove even more important than the agreement itself because it concerns what comes next. If we assume that Lebanon is moving, sooner or later, toward bringing its state of conflict with its regional environment to an end, and that the Middle East is gradually entering a new phase in relations among states, does the Lebanese state have a clear vision of what it wants from this new chapter? Has anyone even begun to consider Lebanon’s future economic and political position should the regional order that has shaped the country for decades begin to change?

Lebanese President Joseph Aoun's official visit to Washington — and more specifically, his scheduled meeting at the White House with President Donald Trump this Tuesday, July 21 — could, or rather should, give a major boost to the clearly sovereigntist direction the Lebanese leadership has taken. This direction — echoing the March 14 movement's slogan of "Lebanon First" — has been most openly and unequivocally expressed since March 2, when Hezbollah unilaterally dragged the country (despite warnings from the government) into yet another futile war, solely to support the Iranian regime and ostensibly "avenge" the death of Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, who was killed in the early hours of the American-Israeli strike on Iran on February 28.

In the exhibition catalogue, Hady Sy presents his project as a search for “a path toward coexistence” between organic intelligence and technological intelligence, between memory and computation, between the hand and the algorithm. These worlds are not placed in opposition but brought into the possibility of an ethical encounter, one in which technology serves humanity while safeguarding its dignity. Yet the works themselves, as they unfold throughout the exhibition space, appear far less confident about the stability of this balance. They do not deny the possibility of coexistence, but they simultaneously reveal just how fragile it is.

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—most notably 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 has led to this (fratricidal?) war, by examining the motivations and aspirations of the different parties involved—particularly the West (the United States and Europe, extended to all NATO member states with the exception of Turkey)—and by recalling 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.

The trilateral framework agreement, negotiated under U.S. auspices and signed in Washington, introduced an ambitious mechanism to demilitarize southern Lebanon: the creation of "pilot zones." The initial phase of this project encompasses six key villages spread on both sides of the Litani River, namely Zawtar al-Gharbiyah north of the river, and Froun, Ghandouriyeh, Qalaouiyeh, and Burj Qalaouiyeh to its south. Under this framework, the Lebanese Army is tasked with deploying, establishing full control, and ensuring that these zones are entirely cleared of militia weapons. In return, Israeli occupation forces are required to carry out a gradual withdrawal.