Opinion

“And David danced before the Lord with all his might.” (2 Samuel 6:14) Dancing is not incompatible with prayer. On the contrary, gospel music perfectly illustrates how singing and dancing, even during liturgical mass, can create an atmosphere of communion and celebration. “Praise the Lord with the harp; make music to Him on the ten-stringed lyre. Sing to Him a new song; play skillfully, and shout for joy.” (Psalm 33:2–3) There is a priest who understood that in our time, the most effective way to reach crowds and especially young people is through music. When the Book of Psalms was written, the loudest instrument appears to have been the ten-stringed lyre. This priest replaced it with electronic music. His name is Padre Guilherme, known today as the DJ priest. At the last World Youth Day in Lisbon in 2023, the city from which the DJ originates, one and a half million people attended, compared to seven hundred thousand at the 2019 edition. More than double the number of participants, mostly young people, dancing to the rhythm set by Padre Guilherme’s fingers. Padre Guilherme is scheduled to perform in Lebanon on January 10. Except that some Christian compatriots believe the priest’s methods are not Catholic, that they undermine Christian values, and that they amount to blasphemy. Eighteen self-appointed guardians of the faith decided that Christianity needed to be saved from this imminent danger. They therefore filed an emergency injunction before a summary judge to ban the performance. They also threatened to block roads and resort to violence if the court ruled against them. And yet these individuals, who see themselves as protectors of Christian values and teachings, seem to have forgotten that the head of the Catholic Church, the late Pope Francis, not only approved Padre Guilherme’s approach but even blessed his DJ helmet, as a sign of gratitude to someone capable of bringing tens of thousands of young people back to Christianity. These self-styled moral enforcers evoke the darkest hours of medieval Christianity, when anyone who refused to blindly obey politico-religious dogma was destined for the stake. Today, censorship and legal action have replaced the purifying fire. The bigots who see evil in Padre Guilherme belong to the same spiritual vigilance committee that once portrayed Mansour Labaki as a persecuted holy man and the victim of a smear campaign. Making young people dance and spreading joy is, in their eyes, a crime, while exploiting the young is dismissed as mere rumor. They are the same people who cried blasphemy when a priest, during Lokman Slim’s funeral, sang the hymn traditionally reserved for Jesus after the crucifixion. The media outcry that followed painted the priest as a heretic. Obscurantism has neither god nor religion. Last year, Wajdi Mouawad’s play Wedding Day at the Cro-Magnons’ was canceled. Today, a dancing priest is to be banned. Tomorrow, perhaps David himself will be summoned to court for excessive choreographic fervor. This blind religious protectionism does nothing but harm Christianity. Jean Dion once asked: what must God think of bigots who believe they know what He thinks? If this backward minority truly claims to be the messenger of faith, then God has probably never been so poorly represented and so badly defended.

Who ever said Hezbollah thrived only on skirmishes and armed conflict? Since the 1990s, it has been steadily “Lebanonizing” itself—smoothing its rough edges, choosing the language of compromise. Or at least pretending to, simply to muddy the waters. At the outset—at the moment of its creation—Hezbollah made no effort to hide its hand. It openly proclaimed its ambition to establish a regime modeled word for word on Khomeini’s. From there, it distanced itself entirely from the Lebanese political sphere, dismissing it as an unworthy arena fit only for unbelievers. But then, reconsidering its approach, it embarked—cleverly and deliberately—on a long-term project to burrow into the Lebanese state apparatus. So much so that by 2005 it had secured a fatwa from Sheikh Afif al-Nabulsi legitimizing its participation in government. A veneer of legality was thus achieved after a long, silent march forward. The self-satisfied and the naïve swallowed the bait whole. In their view, Lebanon’s political “alchemy” had finally managed to reclaim the party of the Islamic Revolution. Hezbollah, they assured us, would become Lebanese at heart, and adopt our prosaic trading mentality, the same one we’ve carried since Phoenician times. Yes, perhaps the Iranian party had diluted its wine a little—but those hopeful souls declared victory far too soon. Reality would swiftly expose their mistake. Democracy would not emerge the winner in this game. No longer content to remain aloof, Hezbollah infiltrated the public administration to better advance its agenda—short-term and long-term alike. It infused the system with its own subversive logic. And since the state was ripe for capture, the Shiite duo would tame it from the inside out. Infiltration and Penetration This strategy of entrism , that classic Marxist-Leninist tactic, consisted of deliberately inserting members of a militant organization into rival structures—or even directly into the so-called bourgeois state itself. What could be simpler than gaining power from within and never letting go? Both the regional and internal environments lent themselves perfectly to such deception. And if Hezbollah remains deeply grateful to President Emile Lahoud, it is precisely because under his presidency it managed to weave itself into every layer of power and administration. Shielded by impunity and protected by their patrons, these infiltrated pawns—these “sleeping agents”—took root in public institutions and steadily climbed the hierarchy. In day-to-day governance, their allegiance was never in doubt: they followed the directives of their handlers and willingly became accomplices to every transgression. The Misdeeds of the Conspiracy The catastrophic double explosion at the port on that fateful August 4 stands as the ultimate proof of a nationwide conspiracy. Are we not still asking the same questions today? How were tons of explosive material allowed to sit in the heart of the city without collusion at every level? Why were so many glaring warnings ignored? How many acts of cowardice—and how many assassinations left unresolved—must still be counted? What a model public administration indeed! So many institutions looked away—the judiciary, customs, security services alike. And to crown it all: a grand conspiracy of silence. Well done, gentlemen of Hezbollah: your project of entrism has certainly borne fruit. Never before has infiltration so effectively revealed so many vices and machinations.

As the holidays come to an end, anxiety once again settles over the Lebanese, crystallizing around a question that has become existential: is Lebanon heading toward a new war, or will the country remain trapped in a fragile truce, liable to collapse at any moment? Yet this question, as crucial as it is, no longer suffices on its own. Behind it looms a deeper, more perilous one: if military initiative comes from the Israeli side, and Hezbollah has refrained from responding since the ceasefire, is this a sign of incapacity or of choice? And who, in the first place, holds the right to decide matters of war and peace in Lebanon? Lebanon today is not living through an all-out war, but neither is it enjoying genuine peace. It is stuck in a dangerous gray zone, where de-escalation does not amount to stability, and escalation falls short of a full-scale explosion. This gray zone, which the Lebanese have grown accustomed to, silently drains the country and keeps it suspended in a constant state of waiting for whatever may come from outside. On the ground, there is no denying that southern Lebanon remains an open arena. Israeli violations continue in various forms, from targeted strikes to carefully calibrated military and security messages. Israel, in this context, is not waging a comprehensive war; rather, it is pursuing a policy of testing limits: testing the adversary’s ability to respond, the boundaries of its patience, and the possibility of imposing new rules of engagement through faits accomplis. Conversely, Hezbollah’s refusal to engage in a broad response since the ceasefire has emerged as a central element in public debate. Some interpret this behavior as weakness or incapacity, but such a reading is overly simplistic, to the point of being misleading. Has the party, in terms of military and organizational capabilities, suddenly lost its ability to respond or to take the initiative? Has its structure disintegrated? Has its weaponry vanished? Has its deployment ceased to exist? These questions alone make it impossible to reduce the situation to mere military incapacity. The fundamental distinction here lies between capability and decision. War is not a technical matter; it is, above all, a political choice. Hezbollah’s stance at this stage appears as a decision to wait, not a decision to confront. This restraint is governed by clear regional considerations. The party is part of a broader axis led by Iran, and this axis does not see any interest, at present, in igniting the Lebanese front. The priority, until further notice, is to manage the conflict rather than expand it, to regulate engagement rather than break it, and to use arenas as instruments of political pressure rather than as fields of military resolution. Alongside the regional factor stands the internal Lebanese factor, which is no less significant. Any large-scale war would exact its cost from a country already in collapse: a paralyzed economy, an absent state, dismantled institutions, and a society exhausted to the point of near helplessness. Hezbollah, whatever its regional calculations may be, is fully aware that a new war would place it in confrontation not only with Israel, but also with a Lebanese reality incapable of bearing further destruction, and perhaps even with its own supportive environment. At the same time, it cannot be ignored that this restraint carries a political and moral price. The continuation of Israeli strikes without a clear response raises serious questions about the very notion of deterrence and weakens the narrative of a “balance of terror.” It also deepens the Lebanese sense that their country is exposed, that military decision-making is detached from the state, yet simultaneously subject to no national accountability. As for talk of peace, it too requires careful scrutiny. What Lebanon is experiencing is not peace born of a settlement or an agreement; it is a peace of necessity. A de-escalation imposed by regional and international balances, not by a sovereign Lebanese will. By its nature, this kind of peace is fragile, because it is tied to the calculations of others rather than to the interests of the Lebanese state or its stability. Here lies the core dilemma: Lebanon is neither a decisive actor in war nor in peace. It is an arena upon which conflicts are managed, not a state seated at the decision-making table. It lacks the ability to impose its conditions, and even to protect itself politically before it can do so militarily. This absence is the real danger, and it is what renders the question of war or peace incomplete unless it is linked to the rebuilding of the state and its role. After the holidays, in all likelihood, we will not witness a full-scale war, nor will we live in a stable peace. We will remain in the same gray zone: no war that is resolved, and no peace that is built. Israel tests and pressures, Hezbollah “contains and waits,” and Lebanon pays the price of waiting. The issue is not whether Hezbollah is capable of responding or not, nor whether Israel will escalate today or tomorrow. The deeper question is this: how long will decisions of war and peace remain outside the framework of the Lebanese state? For without a capable state, Lebanon will remain suspended between a postponed war and a fragile peace, hostage to balances it does not control, and a society that merely hopes that “the worst does not happen,” rather than aspiring to a secure and stable future.

In Lebanon, politics is no longer measured by results or the extent to which national interests are protected, but rather by the loudness of one's voice, the intensity of one's rhetoric, and the ability of an official to appease the instincts of a divided and exhausted public. In this climate, any minister who chooses calm, cool-headed thinking, and working without grandstanding becomes a potential target of constant accusation. This is precisely what Foreign Minister Youssef Raggi is facing, as he is subjected to a campaign of criticism inseparable from a deeper crisis afflicting the very concept of the state. Since assuming the foreign ministry portfolio, Raggi has not acted like a "populist" minister, nor has he sought to transform his position into a platform for rhetoric or a tool for scoring domestic points. He has treated the Ministry of Foreign Affairs as a sovereign ministry that is supposed to protect Lebanon's position at a highly dangerous regional juncture, not as a platform for political posturing. This choice, which should be self-evident, has become grounds for accusation in Lebanon, because the prevailing political culture now considers shouting a stance, recklessness a form of courage, and diplomacy a sign of weakness or complicity. The attack on Youssef Raggi does not stem from an accurate assessment of his performance, but rather from an unfair comparison between what he does and what his opponents wish he would do. He is criticized for not making inflammatory statements, for not raising expectations he knows are unattainable, and for refusing to embroil Lebanon in conflicts beyond its capacity to withstand. But what is presented as "weakness" is nothing more than a realistic understanding of Lebanon's true size and the balance of power that governs the region. Lebanon today is a near-collapsed state: a devastated economy, weak institutions, deep political divisions, and weapons outside state control that restrict sovereign decision-making. In this reality, foreign policy becomes the last line of defense for what remains of the state. Any miscalculation, any ill-considered statement, could open the doors to further international isolation for Lebanon, or plunge it into a confrontation for which it lacks the tools and the means to withstand. Youssef Raggi understands this reality and deals with it with diplomatic acumen, not populist sentiment. It is unfair to hold the Foreign Minister responsible for the accumulation of thirty years of failed policies. Raji did not inherit a stable state or a sound network of relations. Instead, he inherited the image of a state lacking credibility, viewed with suspicion by the international community, which thinks twice before engaging with it. Within this narrow margin, he is trying to repair what can be salvaged, maintain a minimum level of communication with the international community, and prevent a complete break in relations, the cost of which would be catastrophic for Lebanon. Most importantly, Youssef Raggi did not use his position to settle internal scores, nor did he transform the Ministry of Foreign Affairs into an extension of a local political battle. He did not speak the language of axes, nor did he present Lebanon as a tool in a regional conflict. Rather, he tried to establish a discourse that reflects the concept of the state, even if that state is weak and fragmented. This behavior, which should be the standard for any foreign minister, is met with suspicion and accusation in Lebanon, because those accustomed to the logic of dominance are not reassured by the logic of balance. Defending Youssef Raggi does not mean claiming that he is infallible, nor that his performance is above criticism. Criticism is a right, and accountability is a duty. But what is happening today goes beyond criticism to a trial of intentions, an attempt to dismantle any model of an official who doesn't engage in populist rhetoric. The foreign minister is expected to be an echo of the angry street, not a guardian of the national interest, and to appease a fleeting public, even at the expense of the country's future. In such a bleak moment for Lebanon, calm becomes an act of resistance, and diplomacy a courageous choice, not a sign of weakness. Defending Youssef Raji is defending the idea that Lebanon is still capable, despite everything, of producing officials who operate with the mind of the state, not the logic of sectarianism, and with the calculations of the national interest, not the language of instinct. This choice may not be popular, and it may not garner immediate applause, but it is the only option capable of protecting Lebanon from further collapse. And in a country accustomed to punishing reason and rewarding madness, defending diplomacy becomes a battle in itself.

President Joseph Aoun's meeting with a delegation from "Journalists for Freedom" was not merely a protocolary occasion or a platform for conveying declared positions. Rather, it constituted a political event in its own right, its significance extending beyond the content of the speeches to what it reveals about the presidency's mindset, priorities, and the boundaries of engagement it chooses at this stage. The most important aspect of the meeting is not "what the president said," but why he said it, how he said it, and to whom. First: The meeting as a political act, not a media gathering The choice of a media delegation—neither partisan nor diplomatic—reflects a conscious decision to manage the political situation directly through public opinion. The presidency is not addressing a specific adversary, but rather an environment saturated with leaks and rumors, and it treats the media as a partner in shaping the political climate, not merely a conduit. In this sense, the meeting suggests that the presidency considers its primary battle today not to be with a specific political faction, but with the logic of information chaos that precedes any serious national discussion. Second: Deconstructing the Narrative Instead of Responding to It The most significant aspect of the meeting was the shift from a defensive to a conceptually proactive approach. The presidency not only sought to deny the circulating accusations but also worked to deconstruct their structure: How are they fabricated? Why are they launched? What is their political purpose? This approach indicates that the presidency understands that the danger lies not in the accusation itself, but in its transformation into a "common truth" through repetition. Therefore, the meeting aimed to break the cycle, not perpetuate it. Third: Redefining the Presidency's Position on the Weapons Issue The meeting suggests that the presidency is striving to depoliticize the weapons issue. It is not positioning itself in direct confrontation with Hezbollah, nor is it covering for them, but rather in the position of the constitutional authority that returns the issue to its natural course: the course of the state. This positioning is not neutrality, but rather an attempt to take ownership of the issue instead of engaging in conflict over it. The presidency is implicitly saying: This is not a matter for negotiation between parties, but a sovereign decision to be managed within the state's institutions and according to their established procedures. Fourth: Strategic Realism Instead of National Populism The meeting reveals that the presidency is adopting a new approach to the conflict with Israel, one that separates principled stances from the mechanisms of confrontation. The enemy remains the enemy, and the occupation a reality, but the approach is not based on emotion, but rather on calculations of capability and sustainability. This shift is understood as a rejection of transforming war into a political identity, and an insistence on keeping it a last resort, not an internal tool for consolidating influence or gaining legitimacy. Fifth: Negotiation as a Sovereign Tool, Not a Concession What emerged from the meeting suggests that the presidency does not view negotiation as a weakness, but rather as a tool of sovereignty when conducted from a position of state authority. References to negotiating and technical mechanisms reflect a desire to remove the issue from ideological discourse and return it to the professional-diplomatic sphere. Here, a clear trend emerges to separate "negotiating on behalf of the state" from "compromising on behalf of the domestic front," a separation necessary to restore the concept of supreme national interest. Sixth: The Army as a Comprehensive Guarantor, Not a Partial Tool The meeting enshrined a vision that considers the army the backbone of any sovereign path, not merely a security institution. The insistence on its multifaceted role—from security to counterterrorism—reflects an attempt to politically fortify it and prevent its reduction to a single issue, which could transform it into a party to the conflict instead of remaining an arbiter and guarantor. In this way, the presidency places the army above partisan alignments, thus thwarting attempts to target it internally or externally. Seventh: The Media: Between Partnership and Accountability Concluding the meeting with a discussion on the media is not a minor detail. The presidency assigns the media a dual responsibility: • A partner in protecting the truth • And accountable when it becomes a tool for disinformation This approach reflects an understanding that sovereignty is not only targeted by weapons, but also by information, and that media chaos can be more dangerous than an external adversary. Ultimately, the Baabda meeting was not a mere display of positions, but rather an attempt to establish a governing approach based on three pillars: 1. The state is the ultimate authority, not a partisan entity. 2. Political realism as an alternative to populism. 3. Truth as the foundation of legitimacy. In this sense, it can be said that the presidency did not issue "positions," but rather outlined a new framework for engagement: an engagement with chaos, not with factions; with narratives, not with individuals. This is a clear message: Whoever wants to challenge the state should do so openly and with facts, not behind closed doors and through rumors.

The following question was posed to one of the artificial intelligence programs: Has the Levant ever experienced a true period of peace since its existence? The answer is grim. The region has known periods of calm, but never lasting peace. The only period that can be described as stable was the Pax Romana , from the first to the third century. A peace imposed by the sword, a pax manu militari . A peace at the price of blood, the toll of which even artificial intelligence would be unable to assess. The various conflicts were motivated primarily by religious reasons, linked to other political or territorial considerations. Ironically, today the only concept capable of offering true peace bears the name of the sole common ancestor of the three monotheistic religions that have succeeded one another, and for which so much blood was shed, and continues to be shed: Avraham, Abraham, Ibrahim. In the name of Yahweh, Allah, or God, people fight each other. And yet, many yearn for lasting peace, but this peace comes at a price: forgiveness. How many generations will it take for this forgiveness to finally be granted, and for genuine peace to become possible between peoples who have been killing each other for centuries, on and over the same territory? Yet, in the three Abrahamic religions, the same precept is repeated and chanted: “I completely forgive anyone who has hurt or offended me.” “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.” “The retribution for evil is equivalent evil. But whoever forgives and restores peace, his reward belongs to God.” These three stanzas belong respectively to the three religions, in the order of their appearance. The crimes committed by each side against the other are abominable. And trying to go back to the Stone Age to determine which people occupied which territory is futile and pointless. The Phoenicians, for example, extended as far as Gibraltar. Should we then claim the countries that our ancestors colonized? Certainly not, especially since we already struggle to manage the 10,452 km² of our small country. It is difficult to forget the still-open wounds and smoldering ruins of the last wars. But are future generations condemned to bear the weight of our mistakes? At some point, we must heal the past and think about the future: the future of our children, their children, and those who will follow. Two thousand years of history and conflict for a few hundred years of peace: the equation speaks for itself. We don't choose our family, nor the country in which we are born. But we can influence the course of events. All it takes is swallowing our pride and forgiving. Forgiveness is probably the most difficult step of all. The contemporary philosopher Jonathan Lockwood Huie wrote: “Forgive others, not because they deserve forgiveness, but because you deserve peace.” Our generation has been lulled by war all its life, with only about fifteen years of respite. Lebanon is perhaps the only country in the world to have been the stage for other people's wars: bloc wars, support wars, proxy wars. Even its civil war wasn't really a civil war. It is time our country was finally spared its own wars, and especially those of others. Perhaps it is naive to hope for lasting peace and to believe that we could prove the Poppys' refrain wrong: "I wanted, I hoped that peace would reign supreme… But everything continued, no, nothing changed." At present, everything seems to be converging toward a settlement of the conflict, the hope of peace; it is probably naive to cling to this hope. As Virgil Gheorghiu wrote in The Twenty-Fifth Hour , hell is losing all hope. We already endure physical hell every day; there is no need to add a moral hell to it. That is why, let us dare to make peace…

In the French baccalaureate history textbook, there's a chapter on page 138 entitled "The Birth of the State of Israel." However, strangely enough, it jumps from page 137 to page 140, with the two pages of the aforementioned chapter stuck together. This way, our children will be spared learning about the creation of a country that our own refuses to recognize, and therefore doesn't officially exist… Imagine the results on the baccalaureate exam if this topic is ever asked. Meanwhile, the army of this non-existent country is decimating everything in its path or during its overflights. One might conclude that we are being attacked by ghosts or spirits. We don't need regular forces or so-called paramilitary "resistance," but an exorcist. On another note, the Central Bank of Lebanon (BDL) announced an increase in the spending limits for Circulars 158 and 166, by two hundred and one hundred dollars respectively. These amounts will be virtual, not tangible (i.e., payable by debit card only). A television channel interviewed several people who were pleased, even euphoric, with this decision, this gift on the eve of the holidays, seemingly forgetting that they were initially robbed of their money, content with the crumbs of their own funds that the banks return to them. With this wonderful gift, the banks are essentially giving them charity with their own money. Here again, the State and the banks refuse to acknowledge their responsibility. Under normal circumstances, this situation would have been devastating for public and financial institutions, but when the public has the memory of a goldfish and stubbornly refuses to acknowledge that it has been literally robbed, goodbye responsibility and hello impunity. And regarding impunity and forgetting, the best example is August 4th. The authorities once again refuse to acknowledge any involvement, or even a simple administrative error, and we ourselves tend to forget what was one of the worst cataclysms to strike the country: the show must go on… The politics of denial is collective suicide. If a history book is ever written for our country, future generations will likely stop at independence… and for the rest, it will be a blank page. By obsequiously accepting our situation, in the name of that fabulous stupidity called resilience, we have become experts at erasing ourselves before we are even written down…

Your Holiness, You kindly chose this country of the Levant as your first destination after your election as head of the Catholic Church. We thank you for that! Your presence here resembled the shadow of a white cloud gliding through a dark sky that has been overcast for far too long, letting its light shine upon this geographical space described in history books as the land of milk and honey, the land of hospitality and conviviality, the land of the eternal Cedar—majestic, strong, and unwavering. A land of encounter and exchange among cultures and diverse communities; a land of life, love, and peace, regularly attacked and often violated. But for a brief moment, your visit came to “open a parenthesis” and suddenly illuminate the life of an entire people—exhausted and collapsing under the weight of tragedies that have pursued them for decades, mainly caused by the wars of others fought on their soil. Through your discreet yet firm demeanor, your kindness and reserve, your serene and benevolent gaze filled with wisdom, your simple words, and your strong and deeply felt statements, you managed to enter the hearts of all: young and old, sick and healthy, the honest and the corrupt, patriots and gravediggers of the Republic—in short, the entire Lebanese people, who still live today in emergency rooms, between life and death, in a state of exhausting chaos, constant worry, latent insecurity, and suffocating instability. You spoke of peace and harmony, you reassured hearts, and reminded everyone of the need to recognize this human solidarity that enriches and strengthens faith and relationships among the citizens of the same nation—a society of light, mutual aid, and support for those most deprived physically and materially. You bore witness loudly and clearly, without ever hurting or offending a weakened and deeply tried people. Your Holiness, you who breathed a dose of oxygen into all these citizens in distress, allow them to rely on your counsel and your prayers by asking you to continue, even after you leave our small country, to intercede with the Virgin Mary so that peace may take root here—opening the path to recovery and, perhaps one day soon, enabling Lebanon to embrace its “permanent neutrality,” the only guarantee of its stability, sovereignty, independence, and political, economic, social, and cultural flourishing.