Opinion

One could almost marvel at the array of torture instruments featured in the repertoire of Syrian prisons! For the various branches of the mukhabarat had not been idle during more than fifty years of prolonged dictatorship. To exercise their perverse talents, extract confessions from their victims, and above all intimidate the population, Baathist torturers could choose between the “doulab,” the “‘abd al-aswad,” and the “bisat al-rih.” It is difficult to rank these ordeals, but the second on the list was so perverse that Amnesty International described it in its 1984 Report in the following terms: “The victim, bound, is seated on a device which, when switched on, inserts a heated metal blade into the anus.”

The conflicting statements and abrupt reversals by President Donald Trump are set to reshape relations with Europe, NATO and America’s allies. They are also likely to trigger reactions from countries in the Pacific and the Middle East that once viewed U.S. protection as credible. The West is playing for moderation and seeking a role in securing the Strait of Hormuz once hostilities end. Will the United States find itself sidelined in the region in favor of another, unlikely protector? And will Lebanon’s settlement be brokered by France – with or without Europe? Following the U.S. and Israeli strikes against Iran on February 28, 2026 – an operation about which neither Western and European leaders nor governments, nor NATO officials, had been informed – President Donald Trump called on them to back him by helping safeguard security in the Strait of Hormuz and by providing direct support for U.S. operations. Most heads of state and governments declined.

The march to the slaughter had been filmed: it is not every day that 288 civilians, including 12 children, are massacred. The scene unfolded in the southern suburbs of Damascus, in the district known as Tadamun — and “by the book.” We are in 2013. More than 24 videos captured scenes of chilling horror, including the following: pro-government militiamen lead civilians, blindfolded and with their hands tied behind their backs, to the edge of a trench; they shove them in before opening fire indiscriminately to kill them. The bodies, we are told, were then burned and buried with a bulldozer to erase all traces. As the ultimate abomination, these “exploits” of the Assad dynasty were filmed in detail by the executioners themselves. By a twist of fate, this incriminating footage began circulating widely on social media from 2022 onward and became emblematic of the regime’s brutality. A piece of evidence showing one Amjad Youssef — the main star of this horror film — calmly dispensing death!

The file of Lebanese citizens exiled to Israel is among the most complex and sensitive in the Lebanese context, because it stands at the intersection of three deeply intertwined dimensions: the consequences of the Syrian and Israeli occupations, the legacy of the civil war, and the profound divisions surrounding the very concepts of the State, sovereignty, and justice. The State was absent from South Lebanon for decades, leaving the population at the mercy of the tensions between occupation forces and militia arms. When it returned after liberation, it came with a strict security and judicial logic, devoid of any genuine spirit of comprehensive national reconciliation. This is why the file has remained an open wound: Lebanon never underwent a true transitional justice process commensurate with the post-war era and the multiple occupations that had scarred it.

In a moment of extreme regional complexity, Lebanon finds itself confronted with an existential question that goes far beyond the daily calculations of politics and the country's traditional fault lines: what does it seek to obtain from any eventual negotiations with Israel, what can it offer, and does it even possess, internally, the capacity to honour whatever commitments might emerge? These questions have long ceased to be theoretical. They are now directly bound up with the fate of the Lebanese state, with the prospect of hundreds of thousands of its citizens returning to their villages, and with the country's ability to emerge from its condition as an "open theatre of war" and accede at last to the rank of an ordinary state, sovereign over its borders and its decisions.

Since the emergence of the Arab-Israeli conflict, Lebanon has strenuously sought to shield itself from falling entirely into the furnace of open-ended wars, adopting a policy built on two pillars: to be the last Arab State to sign a peace agreement with Israel, and to remain a “supporting State” for the Palestinian cause rather than a “frontline state” bearing the burden of war alone. This approach stemmed from Lebanon’s singular nature — its delicate balances and its political and social composition, which could not absorb protracted conflicts exceeding its capacities and resources. Yet this equilibrium began to shift gradually with the rise of armed Palestinian fedayeen action, as vast areas of South Lebanon transformed into what became known as “Fatahland,” under the aegis of Islamic and leftist forces. Lebanon entered then a new phase of division, particularly as the Assad regime exploited this reality and channelled it to serve its regional projects, turning the country into an open stage for wars and external settlements.

A gallows had been erected by protesters in front of the Palace of Justice in Damascus. It was Sunday, April 27th, in the Syrian capital: a large crowd was present at the first hearing of trials intended to determine the fate of criminals from Bashar al-Assad's fallen regime. The protesters were crying for revenge: they would not have hesitated to carry out their own justice! This speaks to the overheated general atmosphere that could cast doubt on the course of future developments. A special tribunal for Syria, modeled on the one established for former Yugoslavia, would have raised fewer concerns.

The disease afflicting the country is not solely the Hezbollah militia, although it constitutes the most significant challenge, nor is it other militias, armed groups in the Palestinian camps, the absence of sovereignty, or the perpetual corruption dating back to the Mutasarrifate (1862-1915). This disease, which is the erosion of the culture of the state and of the sovereign state, has infected and proliferated mentalities since the Syrian Ba'athist occupation. It was exacerbated later and became cancerous under Hezbollah's hegemony. For 21 years, Hezbollah, at every level of its hierarchy and wherever it is present within institutions, has relentlessly worked to shape mentalities and render them subservient, using these institutions as a socio-political and security shield for its own benefit. The state and its institutions are thus disfigured, and any official who does not adopt the rhetoric of "resistance" is labeled a traitor and a Zionist agent. Likewise, friendly countries where hundreds of thousands of Lebanese, naturalized or not, reside must be labeled enemies, and their representatives avoided or boycotted under threat of accusations of collusion with imperialism. According to this widespread culture, Lebanon should isolate itself from the Arab and Western worlds.

Hezbollah, which for years made the entire country tremble with its weapons, its men and its threats, has now been reduced to smearing Maronite Patriarch Béchara Rahi through armies of anonymous accounts, false bravado and insults typed from behind a screen. Even the way they fall has become small. Why this rage? Because the Patriarch simply reminded them of something that has become unbearable: Lebanon belongs to the Lebanese. A simple sentence. A normal sentence. And yet they can no longer silence it. So they strike at thin air, like someone who feels the ground slipping beneath their feet. This is not a sign of strength. It is precisely the opposite. Movements that are sure of themselves do not need to send anonymous individuals to attack a man of the Church. When arguments are replaced by mud, it is because, deep down, one already knows that part of the battle is lost.

There were trials in Nuremberg (1945–46) and in Tokyo (1946–48), and even in Istanbul, gallows were erected in July 1919 to execute Young Turks responsible for the Armenian genocide. That said, one could legitimately wonder why the authorities of Ahmed al-Chareh had been so slow to set the judicial machinery in motion. Was he hesitant to punish the abuses committed against an entire people by the Al-Assad dynasty of tyrants and their inner circles? The question was all the more pressing given that more than twenty officials—both top figures and lesser ones, if you’ll pardon the expression—had been arrested and were languishing in prison awaiting trial.