Opinion

In moments of major crisis, confrontations are not confined to the military field alone; they extend to another arena no less decisive, that of narrative. In the current Lebanese situation, Hezbollah’s behavior is marked by an intensification of its internal threats and a saturation of the media space with a torrent of communiqués sometimes reaching dozens per day. This phenomenon deserves careful reading, free from emotional reflexes, in order to understand its motivations, objectives and consequences. What strikes one immediately is the unprecedented volume of communiqués referring to “special operations” and “battlefield heroics” in the south. This sustained rhythm cannot be explained by purely military facts; it belongs to what is known as “morale management.” Modern wars are not waged with weapons alone, but also through image, information and impression. When any party feels itself under pressure, whether militarily or politically, it resorts to amplifying its achievements in order to preserve the cohesion of its support base and prevent doubt from seeping into it. Tightening the Internal Ranks Hezbollah faces unprecedented internal challenges today. Its social base suffers from harsh economic fallout and from the direct effects of the war on its areas of influence, in the south, the southern suburbs of Beirut and the Bekaa. In such a context, raising the register of mobilizing discourse becomes a necessity for maintaining popular cohesion. The abundance of communiqués goes beyond the mere transmission of information; it constitutes a continuous message addressed to the public: “We are strong, we hold the initiative, the sacrifices have meaning.” This pattern of discourse aims to prevent the erosion of internal legitimacy, particularly as questions multiply within the base itself about the cost and utility of the confrontation. When losses mount or the circle of those affected widens, producing a parallel narrative that justifies and reframes reality becomes imperative. Compensating for the Gap Between Discourse and Reality In many cases, the greater the media amplification, the more it betrays a gap between discourse and fact. Not all communiqués are necessarily inaccurate, but the deluge of daily details and repeated military feats may be an attempt to fill a void, or to mask the limited actual impact on the course of the conflict. This is where the psychological factor asserts itself forcefully: the repetition of “victories” creates a cumulative sense of power, even when the facts on the ground are more complex. This method is well established in the literature on warfare, where media saturation is used to overwhelm the recipient and prevent them from verifying or cross-checking. Deterrence Through Noise One of the functions of this rhetorical escalation is to build psychological deterrence, directed not only at the external enemy but also at Lebanon’s internal actors. By intensifying its threats and presenting itself as a force on permanent standby, Hezbollah sends a dual message: to external adversaries, that it remains capable of taking the initiative; to its internal adversaries, that any attempt to confront it politically or in the streets will prove costly. This explains the tone of certain internal communiqués, which go beyond describing battles to issue direct or indirect threats. It is an attempt to draw internal red lines, at a moment when Hezbollah senses that its position is no longer as fortified as it once was. Managing Political Contradictions Beyond the military apparatus, Hezbollah is a central political actor in Lebanon. It faces a difficult equation today: on one side, it wishes to preserve its role as a “resistance” force; on the other, it faces mounting pressure, internal and external, to return the weapons to the state, particularly now that it is considered to be operating outside the law. In this context, media escalation becomes an instrument for deferring the real debate. Rather than confronting directly the question of its weapons and its role, Hezbollah redirects attention toward the “great battle” in the south and invokes the spectre of the new Syrian regime. The abundance of communiqués helps keep war at the top of the agenda, not internal debate. Influencing Arab and International Opinion The audience for these communiqués extends well beyond Lebanon’s domestic scene. The regional and international dimension is clear. Hezbollah seeks to consolidate the image of an actor that remains influential in the conflict with Israel, despite all the upheavals. By amplifying its operations, it attempts to reclaim its place in Arab consciousness as a force of confrontation, at a time when that image has faded in the eyes of a significant segment of public opinion. This discourse also aims to raise the cost of any escalation against it, by suggesting its capacity to widen the circle of confrontation. Even if this never materializes, it is enough that the possibility lingers in others’ calculations. The Logic of Permanent Mobilization Since its founding, Hezbollah has operated on a model of “permanent mobilization.” The state of emergency is not an exceptional circumstance but a near-continuous condition. Within this model, intensive media output forms an integral part of the organizational structure, rather than a mere situational reaction. The problem, however, is that this pattern, when carried to excess, gradually loses its credibility. The overabundance of claims can produce the opposite effect: rather than reinforcing trust, it sows doubt, particularly among a wider public beyond the partisan base. The Attendant Risks This rhetorical escalation carries serious dangers. Credibility erodes when the narrative no longer matches what people see or hear from other sources. Repeated threats risk deepening divisions and resentments. The higher the ceiling of discourse rises, the harder any retreat becomes, narrowing the margin for political manoeuvre. Hardline rhetoric can also be invoked as a pretext for a counter-escalation, exposing Lebanon to additional risks. What This Means for Lebanon Lebanon today stands at a delicate juncture, where economic crisis intersects with security tension and political fracture. In such a context, the country needs a discourse that eases tensions rather than inflames them, and transparency that rebuilds trust between the state and society. What we are witnessing, however, is the reverse: a surplus of rhetoric and a deficit of trust. This is what makes Hezbollah’s media behavior a component of the crisis, not merely a reflection of it. It is clear that the intensification of threats and the inundation of the public sphere with communiqués are not random phenomena. They reflect a strategy founded on morale management, the tightening of internal ranks and the construction of psychological deterrence, in response to mounting challenges on the domestic as much as the external front. Yet this strategy, however effective it may prove in the short term within a specific environment, carries serious risks over the medium and long term, both for Hezbollah itself and for Lebanon as a whole. Ultimately, the most important truth remains that the strength of any party is measured not only by what it says, but by the degree to which its words accord with reality. In an era of proliferating information sources, preserving credibility is the greatest challenge and the most demanding trial.

Lebanon lives under pressure, caught between what strikes it from without and what holds it back from within, and with time, what was once exceptional has become almost normal. The real problem is no longer merely what comes from elsewhere; it lies in this incapacity to cut through, in this suspended moment where the State sees perfectly clearly what must be done and yet cannot bring itself to take the step. It is not a failure of understanding. It is a fear that has settled in slowly, fed by a history in which every internal confrontation has left scars too deep to be ignored. When a country has known war, it develops not only reflexes but carries traumas, deep-rooted fears, survival mechanisms that push it to avoid, to circumvent, to defer, even when that very flight becomes a danger in itself. And so one speaks, one explains, one evades, one does not act. This is no longer caution. It is paralysis. That is where the paradox takes hold. The clearer the situation, the less it is addressed, as though seeing more sharply made every decision harder to face. Reassuring names are given to this deadlock — one speaks of prudence, of realism, one dresses inaction in acceptable words, when at bottom what is involved is an inability to follow through on what one already knows. One clings to intermediate solutions, to fragile equilibria, to compromises that give the illusion of holding things together, when in fact they do nothing but delay the inevitable, and this time gained serves not the country but what is blocking it. One reassures oneself by speaking of stability, and in reality one lies to oneself, believing oneself more cunning than reality, as though putting off a decision were the same as mastering it. But these half-measures stabilize nothing. They embed the problem, they anchor it, they render it more legitimate with time, and above all more difficult to correct. What was meant to be temporary takes root, what was meant to be an exception becomes a rule, and what was meant to be contested ends up imposing itself. Meanwhile the balance of forces does not weaken; it consolidates, it organizes, it normalizes, and what was still possible yesterday becomes risky today, almost impossible tomorrow. The choice never disappears. It degrades, it hardens, it grows more costly, until the moment when refusing to decide amounts to accepting what one claims to be avoiding. Lebanon does not lack lucidity. It lacks a State capable of shouldering the decisions it knows to be necessary. This is not a situation without an exit. The way out exists, but it demands a price that one still refuses to pay. It is not the enemy's bombs that bring down a State. It is the day a State accepts that it is no longer the one who decides.

“Baytuna al-khataru”, (peril is our dwelling), an expression borrowed from Saïd Akl. Michel Chiha was not fooled by our superficial national unity! Besides, who would have been? This essayist feared, above all, the demons of division and violence that haunted our Lebanese memory. His Lebanon was: “ a country that tradition must defend against force… ” National fragmentation and the historical legacy The confrontation, which has been ongoing before our eyes since October 2023, may appear to be an international or regional confrontation between Israel and Iran, but it is also, as far as we are concerned, the continuation of an ancestral domestic conflict between Lebanese factions. And in fact, it was written that the same nagging questions would always arise for us: which community is in control of the country, and which has the lion's share of the state's revenues? From this, no doubt, from this reality felt differently by political actors and other protagonists, stem all our internal conflicts, the intensity that characterizes them, and the blood that stains them! At this precise moment, there is grosso modo the Shiite community which, having somehow tied its fate to the politics of the ayatollahs, has positioned itself against the other Lebanese communities, coincidentally gathered in the sovereignist camp. Let us remember that there is a natural filiation between our current “historical time” and that of the violent crises or “small wars” of 1975, 1958, 1925-7. And one can thus go back to 1860 and 1845, or even further, to find the same confessional groups in conflict even if, from one time to another, alliances were made and unmade and some communities changed their stance. In Lebanon, war to change nothing As for today, if Israel wants perpetual war, if, according to some observers, its government intends to continue hostilities to stay in power, an opposite situation prevails here: it is war that has taken hold of us, that does not intend to let us go. The conflict is consubstantial with the Lebanese entity, whether it extends to the territorial limits of the double Qaimaqamate of the 19 th century or those of Greater Lebanon of 1920. Perhaps we were not meant to stay together, juxtaposed in this way. But yes, we would say! We had always survived crises. We had always bounced back thanks to political elites who had chosen paths of appeasement and compromise, like Bechara el-Khoury and Riad el-Solh in 1943 and like Fouad Chehab, Saeb Salam and Rachid Karame after the events of 1958. But there, we had wise leaders at the helm, great traditional bourgeois, who recoiled from the prolonged use of force and the perpetuation of insurrectionary situations. Neither ideologues, nor comitadjis, they managed as best they could and ensured the defusing of crises that their own policies could provoke. Mamluks, Bashi-bazouks and “vigilantes” But what do we have today? A party that, proclaiming itself revolutionary by the grace of God, advocates violence. Militarized and battle-hardened, it does not disdain shows of force. Taking its instructions from Tehran, it interfered in restoring order in Syria and plunged headlong into a regional war for the sake of its Iranian employer. Never had the country known such an occupation (1): no more under the Mamluks than under the Bashi-bazouks! It is through brutality, threat, and intimidation that it asserts itself in the Lebanese political landscape. To make matters worse, our national army, guarantor of our sovereignty, is reduced to playing the role of an interposition force between neighboring districts and belligerent communities. A gendarmerie ( jandarma ) as under the Mutasarrifate, but more mechanized, is still useful, but it cannot meet the demands of the hour! And then, according to the Americans, its primary suppliers of equipment, this legitimate force has not fulfilled its commitments regarding the demilitarization of South Lebanon and the disarmament of the inflamed militia. Dance on a volcano That said, how do you expect a civilian population to face the “divine party” and its fanaticized followers? Suffice it to say that pockets of resistance will form. “ Vigilantes ” as they say in Spanish, self-proclaimed irregulars, arrogating to themselves the right to ensure security, will appear, and above all impose their order. With the displacement of a million people into already overcrowded, wary, and guarded areas, we are imperceptibly sliding towards open conflict. The fire will spread. And this in various parts of the territory. 1 - When one considers that, contrary to diplomatic customs, the Iranian ambassador declared persona non grata refuses to abandon his post!

At a pivotal moment in Lebanon’s trajectory, the decision to expel the Iranian ambassador cannot be treated as a routine diplomatic move. It is, quite simply, the first real test of whether the Lebanese state is capable of saying “no” to a regional project that has hollowed out its sovereignty for years. But as always, the problem is not only external—it lies within, and specifically with those who claim to be partners in governance. At the center of this stands Nabih Berri, our omnipresent Speaker of the House. Berri, who today attempts to present himself as a underwriter of stability, is in reality one of the chief architects of its collapse. The man who long branded himself as a “safety valve” has instead become a valve of obstruction, blocking any serious attempt to challenge Hezbollah’s dominance and Iran’s hold over Lebanon. Let us be clear: the issue is not merely the expulsion of the Iranian ambassador, but the system that allowed that ambassador to behave as a de facto ruler, openly bypassing diplomatic norms and speaking above the Lebanese state itself. And when a minimal act of accountability is finally taken, Berri emerges to question the decision—as if Lebanese sovereignty were a matter of negotiation. What Berri is doing today is not mediation. It is protection. He knows full well that expelling an ambassador will not remove the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps from Lebanon. Yet he still refuses even this minimal political confrontation. Why? Because any serious challenge would inevitably dismantle the very system he is deeply invested in—a system of corruption and patronage that has, for decades, provided political cover for Hezbollah’s weapons. More dangerously, Berri—who once claimed he could “contain” Hezbollah and reintegrate it into the Lebanese state—has now all but disappeared. No leadership, no clarity, only a chorus of voices warning against “provoking the Shiite community,” as though sovereignty itself were a sectarian offense. This is the equation Berri is trying to impose: any attempt to confront Hezbollah’s weapons or Iran’s influence becomes an attack on an entire sect. It is a deeply cynical and dangerous formula—not one that protects the Shiite community, but one that holds it hostage to a regional project that has little regard for its lives or its future. What we are witnessing today is, in part, a belated rescue attempt—not just of the state, but of a large segment of Lebanese Shiites whose political agency has been systematically hijacked. The irony is unmistakable: the very forces that oppose Hezbollah and its allies are often the same ones providing refuge and dignity to displaced families, while their own areas in the South are turned into battlegrounds. As for the threats of ministerial withdrawal, they are little more than political theater. The issue is not two replaceable ministers, but an armed structure that operates above and beyond the state. If Berri believes that street pressure or the specter of civil war will reverse the current trajectory, he is gravely mistaken. Lebanon has changed. Hezbollah can no longer convincingly present itself as a “resistance” movement—not after turning its weapons inward, not after embedding itself within an Iranian regional agenda. Nor can Lebanese citizens be expected to accept that stability comes from endless compromise with those who drag the country into wars it neither chose nor can sustain. Yes, the risk of escalation exists. Yes, tensions are real. But the greater danger lies in continuing this collective denial—in a political logic that attempts to normalize the abnormal, to transform the aggressor into a legitimate partner in governance. Today, the Lebanese state faces a stark choice: continue down the path of complicity, as Berri and his allies prefer, or begin—however cautiously—to reclaim its authority. Expelling the Iranian ambassador may not be sufficient, but it is a message. A message to the Lebanese before the international community—that there are still those who refuse to let Lebanon remain a platform for other people’s wars. And a message, above all, to Nabih Berri: the era of balancing acts is over. Those who believe they can continue managing this collapse as if it were a political detail will soon discover that the ground beneath them is already shifting. Lebanon does not need wheeler dealers within the state. It needs a state. And a state cannot exist as long as those entrusted with protecting it are the very ones undermining it. If a reminder is needed, what we are witnessing today is nothing more than a distorted replay of February 6, 1984—when the slogan of “ending injustice” was used to justify a coup against the state, one that ultimately transformed weapons from a supposed tool of justice into an instrument of domination. Those who took up arms that day did not do so in defense of the state, but because they deemed it absent—and decided to replace it. The result was not the restoration of the state, but its burial. The irony is stark: those who claimed to be fighting injustice gradually became its greatest agents, monopolizing power, hijacking institutions, and reproducing the very system they once claimed to resist. Today, Nabih Berri and his allies are recycling that same failed experiment: the same pretext, the same weapons, and the same outcome—a captured state, and a people expected to applaud their own subjugation in the name of “dignity” and “rights.” Well think again.

One hundred and eight years ago, just months before the end of the First World War – on March 18, 1918 – Georges Clemenceau, then France’s Prime Minister and Minister of War, addressed the National Assembly in stark terms: “People say: we do not want war, but we want peace as soon as possible. Ah! I too desire peace as soon as possible. Everyone does. Anyone who thinks otherwise would be a great criminal. But one must be clear about what one wants. It is not by bleating about peace that one silences Prussian militarism. My policy is this: I wage war.” This statement by the man widely regarded as the architect of France’s 1918 victory invites renewed reflection in light of the regional conflict unfolding today. There is no doubt that those who are not committed to peace are great criminals! And this must be said of the regime in Tehran. In matters of peace, justice and freedom, its record is unmistakably clear. In the years following Khomeini’s revolution, the notoriously brutal Ayatollah Sadegh Khalkhali alone ordered the execution of 10,000 opponents. His notoriety was such that he earned the nickname “the Hanging Judge.” Between 2023 and 2025, the mullahs’ regime carried out 4,000 executions out of a total of 6,000 recorded worldwide over the same period. The scale of repression in Iran speaks for itself: between 1980 and 2022, more than 10,000 opponents were killed during street protests. During the latest wave of demonstrations in 2026, more than 30,000 protesters were gunned down by the Basij. It is also worth recalling that the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and the mullahs have given unwavering support to the brutal rule of Assad – both father and son – in Syria, as well as to Hezbollah in Lebanon. Bolstered by this backing, the latter has preached war unabashedly for more than four decades – and continues to do so. Peace has never been part of its calculus, only temporary truces between conflicts, used to rearm and regroup. Moreover, it has succeeded in rallying both fervent supporters and opportunists to its positions and strategies. In recent days, many of these individuals have suddenly “reactivated” themselves, presenting themselves as a kind of “drawing-room resistance” against Israel and the United States. Hezbollah is now directly subordinated to the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps. Since 2005, it has carried out a series of assassinations, beginning with former Prime Minister Rafic Hariri. Prominent figures associated with the March 14 forces have suffered the same fate, in a spiral of violence that, for now, culminated in the killing of the editor and socio-political activist Lokman Slim. These assassinations have helped Hezbollah intimidate sovereigntists and infiltrate Lebanon’s institutions and administrations with a host of corrupt and compliant officials, at the expense of Lebanese citizens who have long aspired to a genuine rule-of-law state since independence. This has steered the Republic toward near collapse. Since 1999, Hezbollah has faced thinkers, journalists, religious leaders, and student movements who, over the years, have endured continuous repression at the hands of security services initially controlled by the Syrian occupation and later by Hezbollah and its allies. Opposition parties eventually emerged, but the results of their efforts remained limited. At the top of state hierarchies, behavior ranged from direct or indirect collaboration with Iran to outright inaction. Champions of inaction, who justified their stance by prioritizing civil peace, delivered bland, soporific speeches that could apply anywhere, at any time. These inactive actors waited in vain for better days, acting with Hezbollah as the lamb does with the wolf in La Fontaine’s fable. Meanwhile, the so-called “peace bleaters” in Lebanon and the West have criticized the United States’ campaign against Iran’s brutal and xenophobic regime, which has used diplomacy as a tactic to buy time, weaken its opponents, and advance its agendas in armaments, nuclear development, and regional subversion. These champions of peace have nothing to offer but inaction in the face of Tehran. They argue that Washington’s and the West’s sanctions policy has achieved nothing over the past three decades. This is partly true – but without those sanctions, would we have had even a semblance of neighborly relations with Iran? Did the mullahs not at one point claim control over Baghdad, Damascus, Beirut, and Sanaa? Without sanctions, could the situation have been any worse? The same “peace bleaters” criticize President Trump, rightly or wrongly, either for his perception of priorities or for taking action against Iran. They reached their conclusions within the first hours of the conflict. For the mullahs’ regime, they could hardly have found better supporters. This regime could collapse tomorrow or survive for months – or even years – but it will almost certainly be incapable of effectively exporting its revolution throughout the region, as stipulated in the Iranian Constitution. An American-Israeli campaign against Iran will inevitably have long-lasting consequences for the global economy and for taxpayers’ wallets around the world. It is the price to pay to curb the disruptive influence of a regime that has already destabilized the Arab world – and, arguably, the world at large. Those who are not fighters will never understand this! And as for the perennial opportunists, always guided by business interests, they have no objections to hegemony or the erosion of values.

It is up to the Lebanese Shiites alone to disavow Hezbollah, to put an end to its hegemony and, consequently, to the Pasdaran's grip on our country *! The same scenario applies in Iran: no matter how much combined Israeli-American strikes pulverize Ali Larijani, his close guard and his repressive forces, only a citizen uprising can overthrow the tyranny of wilayat al-faqih . Astute observers will eventually admit it: there will be no resolution to the Persian tragedy, no solution to the Iranian crisis without a confrontation between compatriots, that is to say, without civil conflict. So it is up to the peoples to assert their right to life! Deliverance! In our battered country, neither the Lebanese army, nor a good offices mission, nor civil war, nor Israeli bombings, nor the landing of Arab, Turkish or Western troops are able to sideline the “divine party.” It is because the latter reigns over minds that its bastion is impregnable and that its physical relocation would not be enough to eradicate it. Torn from its ancestral land, thrown onto the roads, parked in makeshift camps, its “nurturing environment” that served as its matrix remains attached, loyal, faithful, and committed to it. A despairing observation when only the Twelver community is empowered to invalidate the Hezb and get us out of the impasse in which we are struggling. Is there a Twelver culpability? But if Lebanon is bogged down, its institutions blocked, and its population victimized, would we therefore blame all Shiites? Let's admit that the Party of God , now a regional actor, had flattered their feelings of pride and a taste for bravado and risk. But in doing so, it would lead them into the dangers of widespread escalation and delusions of power. Some exasperated minds would not hesitate to hold all Twelvers politically, if not criminally, responsible for the successive catastrophes befalling us. After all, Shiite voters have re-elected, from one legislature to the next, the same representatives to the National Assembly, just as they have approved the policies these representatives advocated at the suggestion of their Iranian mentors. In this sense, our compatriots in the South, the Beqaa, and the suburbs did what they should not have done. And what's more, by remaining passive, they did not do what they had to do: what we expected of them as Lebanese who have the exclusive interests of our country at heart. On two occasions, namely October 8, 2023, and March 2, 2026, they could not curb the Hezb that stubbornly pursued the path of confrontation with Israel! But were they able to prevent these utterly fateful decisions, to name but a few? It will long be argued that the senseless excesses of the “divine party” were the work of a small group, not the fruit of a specific culture or the logical outcome of a religious ideology that binds a community. Call for Mutiny and Incitement to “intifada” At this precise moment, a ground incursion is believed to be imminent. Rather than letting the Israelis relentlessly pursue the Hezb and evacuate the population from South Lebanon, the Shiite ecosystem could take the initiative that would ensure its own deliverance. An immense outcry from the displaced, numbering a million people, can lead the over-armed militia that has taken Lebanon hostage to abandon its heroic illusions and picaresque ventures. And primarily, to disassociate itself from its Iranian masters. West Beirut had indeed “renounced” Yasser Arafat during its siege by the Israelis in 1982. The PLO had promised to turn our capital into a new Stalingrad. The intervention of Saëb Salam, speaking on behalf of the outraged population, put our Palestinian guests in their place: they were embarked on French ships bound for Tunisia. That said, it is certainly not the waltz of hesitation, in which Nabih Berry engages, that will put an end to the self-immolation that continues before our eyes. Only an insurrection, only a grassroots movement, only demonstrations and sit-ins can force the hand of those who unduly monopolize power. It is up to the Shiites to wrest the weapons from the Hezb ! It is up to them to take risks for freedom, theirs and ours! * And as a reminder, the Christians rallied to state legitimacy in 1988-9, effectively rejecting the militias' stranglehold on the East zone!

Everyone has someone in the family who left to study abroad. A son, a daughter, a nephew, a niece. Tuition fees were paid, teeth were gritted, pride was felt. Degrees were earned. They went to work in the Gulf. We called it success. Today, that story is drawing to a close. Gulf countries have decided to prioritize employment for their own citizens. It is their right, and it is a deep-rooted trend, not a temporary measure. The major economic vision programs — Saudi Arabia's Vision 2030 among them — are designed precisely to reduce dependence on foreign labor. Lebanese workers there have begun receiving termination letters, and many of those still in post find their contracts quietly unrenewed. Worse still, there is the war — or rather, chronic instability. The confrontation between Iran and the United States, the tensions in the Red Sea, the fragility of political equilibria throughout the region: all of this has sown uncertainty. Foreign companies are repatriating their employees as a precaution. Investors are leaving. The economy is slowing. The Gulf, once so open a market, is closing. Perhaps not forever, but for now, yes. And no one can predict when, or in what form, it will reopen. Europe is not a credible large-scale alternative. Unemployment there is high across many countries, and the barriers to entry for a non-European have become near-insurmountable. Landing a job there without European status is not individually impossible, but it is slow, costly, and uncertain. Above all, Europe has neither the capacity nor the will to absorb massive inflows from a single country. For thousands of young Lebanese at once, it is simply not a solution. So what do they do? We have an entire generation — intelligent, graduates of the finest universities, fluent in three or four languages, seasoned in multinationals or consulting firms — and that generation has nowhere left to go. Except one place. Lebanon. Lebanon with its power cuts that paralyze the working day, its banking collapse that vaporized a lifetime of savings, its political class we all know by heart, with its schemes and its stagnation. To suggest this might be good news sounds counterintuitive. But let us take a moment to think. For fifty years, every time the situation in Lebanon grew difficult — war, economic crisis, political assassinations — the best people left. And because they left, the pressure on the system eased. Emigration served as a corrective mechanism. Nothing truly changed, because the driving forces that might have demanded change were elsewhere. The Gulf, Europe, North America functioned as an immense safety valve. They absorbed our problems in our stead. Now, that valve is closing. Not abruptly, but through a slow and inexorable contraction. For the first time in decades, our young graduates have no real option but to turn their gaze toward Lebanon. Not out of sudden patriotism — though that can help — but because the other doors are closing one by one. And history shows that when there is no alternative left, people end up building where they stand. Not out of love of country, but out of sheer survival instinct and the drive for personal fulfillment. Because it is the only option on the table. Living in Lebanon today costs far less than Dubai, Doha, or Paris. A young person working for a foreign company, paid in dollars from Beirut, lives very well — comfortably, even. This model already exists, sustained by a handful of digital and services pioneers. It now needs to be developed and given structure. Remote work has changed everything. The pandemic accelerated a deeper shift: today, one can work for a company in London, New York, or Dubai from one's living room in Beirut. A stable internet connection, a manageable time difference, and the rest takes care of itself. The client is elsewhere, the money arrives in hard currency, life is lived in Lebanon — with everything that entails, both beautiful and bleak. Those returning from the Gulf do not come back empty-handed. They have savings — no fortunes, perhaps, but a cushion. They carry professional contacts spanning the globe. They have experienced what a functioning administration actually looks like, what efficient customer service means, what long-term planning requires. They can build companies here. Small ones at first. Sized for the local market or oriented toward the export of services. But real ones. And a generation returning with all of this, with nothing to expect or lose from the current political system, is a generation capable of voting differently, with sharper demands. They can get involved in municipalities, where daily life is genuinely decided. They can shift things politically, simply by refusing the customary arrangements and holding to one clear criterion: choosing people for their competence, not their connections. None of this is automatic. Nothing is, in this country. Returning alone, without a safety net, without a collective project, risks being swallowed by the system or leaving again quickly, more embittered than before. But returning as a group, organized, financially independent, with complementary skills — that is something else entirely. The difference between the two is a decision. A conscious decision to build something here. Not a promise handed down from above. We always ask the same question, in Lebanese families, around the tables of the diaspora: where will our children go? The question has become agonizing, because the traditional answers are disappearing. Perhaps it is time to ask the real question — the one that unsettles and liberates at once: what can they build here, those who have seen everything elsewhere, if they are given — and if they give themselves — a reason to stay? Who could have imagined that one day we would be calling family in Dubai, Doha, Kuwait, or Jeddah to ask how their night was? That image says everything. It tells the story of a complete reversal of perspective. For decades, it was we, in Lebanon, who received anxious calls from our parents, our brothers and sisters who had gone to work abroad. We were the source of worry. The fragile hearth that people called to verify was still standing. Today, it is they who must be called. Those we thought settled in the antiseptic comfort of glass towers and air-conditioned shopping malls. Asking them how their night was. Whether they slept. Whether anxiety left them in peace. Because the region is trembling. Because the equilibria we believed stable are cracking. Because no one is sheltered — not even inside the air-conditioned bubbles of the desert. And suddenly, we grasp the cruel irony of history. For fifty years, we sent our children to the Gulf to protect them from Lebanon. To shelter them from our wars, our crises, our chaos. We believed we were sending them into the future, into stability, into predictability. And now it is perhaps Lebanon that is becoming the relative refuge. Not because it is safer — God knows it is not — but because when the whole region burns, one goes home. One returns to where one understands the codes and the language, where one can read the air before it turns. Who could have said that one day it would be us extending a hand? Who could have said that the exile would become the one we comfort? That the roles would reverse so completely? The night is long across the whole region right now. But at least in Lebanon, we are accustomed to darkness. We know how to manage it. We know how to light candles, invent light, remain standing in the dark. So yes, we have the right to dream. We have the right to look at this returning generation and say: what if it is them? We have the right to imagine that this country, with its monstrous flaws, might hold a card it has never held before. Lebanon was never a regional hub because it had no need to be. The money came from the Gulf, from expatriates, from rentier income. Why fight to build something solid when one could survive in the disorder? Today, that rentier income is drying up. The money will no longer come to smooth over our imbalances. And that, perhaps, is the extraordinary chance this moment holds. Let us look at the assets of the situation, for once. A time zone that allows working with Europe in the morning and the United States in the afternoon. A cosmopolitan, multilingual culture that exists nowhere else in the region. A cost of living that has become competitive again. A pool of talent trained at the finest institutions, returning with a hunger to build that they never had before. And above all, above all: a youth that is no longer afraid. When one has lived through the collapse, the loss of savings, the disappearance of loved ones in an explosion, there is not much left to lose. And those with nothing left to lose are the most dangerous to the established order — and the most powerful in creating a new one. So yes, let us dream. Let us dream that Beirut becomes again what it once was: the crossroads of the region. Not the crossroads for dubious capital and suitcases full of cash, but for minds, for start-ups, for companies seeking talent they cannot find elsewhere. Let us dream that multinationals look at this trilingual, resilient, creative generation and conclude: this is where we need to be. Not for natural resources, but for human ones. The world is changing. Work no longer has a fixed address. Companies are seeking ecosystems where talent is abundant and the cost of living is attractive. Why not us? Why not now? This is not a prediction. It is a heading. Not a certainty, but an intention. The infernal cycle we have spoken of — the emigration of the best, the system's survival through absence — can stop. It stops when we decide it stops. When those who return say: we are staying. When those who never left say: we are building. We have the right to dream that tomorrow will be different. We even have the duty. Because in a country that no longer offers anything, the dream becomes the last resource that remains. And the Lebanese have been transforming nothing into something for centuries. That, perhaps, is our genius. Transforming absence into presence. Transforming departure into return. Transforming the end of one world into the beginning of another. So yes, we have the right. And for once, we even have the arguments.

Lebanese memory is punctuated by significant moments, but rare are those that truly constituted a turning point in the country's history like the March 14, 2005 demonstration. That day, it was not merely a massive demonstration in the heart of Beirut, but a rare moment when Lebanese united around a common idea: the restoration of the state. This moment occurred after the assassination of former Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, a crime that not only shook Lebanon but also disrupted the course of its political life. The assassination of a figure of Hariri's stature was not a mere security incident, but a true political earthquake that revealed the extent of the crisis Lebanon was experiencing, under the security and political yoke of Damascus since the end of the civil war. But what many had not anticipated at the time was that grief and anger would transform into a popular uprising of such magnitude. On March 14, 2005, hundreds of thousands of Lebanese flooded Martyrs' Square in one of the largest demonstrations in the region's history, demanding truth and justice, and above all, the restoration of national sovereignty. The world called this moment the Cedar Revolution, but the Lebanese who lived it know that it was much more than a simple « revolution ». It was a moment of collective awakening: the state was not a lost cause and tutelage was not eternal. The End of the Era of Tutelage The scene in Martyrs' Square was not merely a human gathering. It was a clear declaration that an entire chapter of Lebanon's history was coming to an end. After three decades of Syrian influence in Lebanon, Damascus faced double pressure: unprecedented Lebanese popular pressure and international pressure that materialized with United Nations Security Council Resolution 1559, demanding the withdrawal of foreign forces from Lebanon. In April 2005, Syrian forces withdrew from Lebanon, ending a military presence that had begun in 1976. For many Lebanese, this was perceived as a second independence. But Lebanon's history is rarely linear. Incomplete Sovereignty It quickly became evident that the withdrawal of the Syrian army did not signify the end of the Lebanese crisis. Direct military tutelage had ended, but the issue of weapons outside state control remained. Lebanon then entered a new phase of political conflict, the central question of which was: who holds the power to wage war and make peace in Lebanon? During these years, the growing role of Hezbollah became predominant, as it possessed a military arsenal independent of the Lebanese state. Over time, this arsenal became a major point of political division in the country. The March 14 Forces believed that the construction of the state could not be complete as long as weapons existed outside its institutions, while Hezbollah considered its weapons an integral part of the « resistance ». Lebanon thus engaged in a prolonged political struggle around the very concept of sovereignty. From Hope to Collapse If the Lebanese were to recall the scene in Martyrs' Square in 2005, they would find it difficult to reconcile that moment of hope with the current reality. Nearly twenty years later, Lebanon seems to have moved further and further away from the dream of a state that the demonstrators were then demanding. Today, the state is weak, its institutions are almost paralyzed, its economy has collapsed, and its population is emigrating in unprecedented numbers. As for the decision of sovereignty, which was at the heart of the March 14 uprising, it remains a subject of internal and regional conflict. Recent years have shown that Lebanon's problem lies not only in occupation or direct tutelage, but also in the very inability of the political system to build a capable state. Political sectarianism, power-sharing by quotas, and the presence of weapons outside state control have repeatedly hindered the state-building project that the Lebanese people dreamed of in 2005. What Remains of March 14? Some claim that March 14 has disappeared as a political alliance. This is largely true. The alliance that bore this name gradually weakened, its forces dispersed, and some of its members made political compromises that undermined its initial message. But March 14 was not just a political alliance. It was an idea. The idea that Lebanon should be a sovereign, free, and independent state. The idea that the decision to wage war and peace should belong exclusively to legitimate institutions. And the idea that Lebanon cannot function as a normal state if it remains a theater of regional conflicts. These ideas have not disappeared. They may have lost some of their political influence, but they remain present in the consciousness of a large part of the Lebanese population who still believe that establishing a functional state is the only solution to Lebanon's chronic crisis. An Unfinished Moment The fundamental problem of the March 14 movement perhaps lay in the fact that, despite its historical importance, it failed to transform into a sustainable political project capable of rebuilding the state. The alliance that led this movement had to face immense challenges: political assassinations, internal divisions, and regional wars that directly affected Lebanon. Nevertheless, March 14, 2005 remains a pivotal moment in modern Lebanese history. It proved that Lebanese are capable of overcoming fear when they feel their country threatened and of creating a unifying national momentum, transcending traditional divisions. A Memory for the Future Today, as the anniversary of March 14 is commemorated, hundreds of thousands of Lebanese may not take to the streets as they did twenty years ago. But the questions raised that day remain acutely relevant: Can Lebanon become a normal state again? Can the decision of war and peace rest solely with the state? Can the Lebanese one day gather again around a unifying national project? The commemoration of March 14 may not provide answers to these questions, but it reminds Lebanese of a fundamental truth: a moment of national unity is possible. It happened once, in Martyrs' Square. And nothing prevents it from happening again.

Hezbollah, you probably had something to prove! By launching a "salvo of missiles and a swarm of drones" towards Israel in the early hours of Monday, March 2, you certainly had something in mind. To this day, the consequences are incalculable: more than seven hundred dead, ruthless eradication of entire neighborhoods, nearly nine hundred thousand displaced from their homes, including more than 150,000 who found refuge only in the precariousness and promiscuity of collective shelters! Why didn't you keep a low profile? You could not have shown such immaturity when you knew that the Hebrew state's retaliation would be disproportionate. In your capacity as a "self-proclaimed resistance movement," you were not big enough to measure yourself against the IDF, especially since you had been decapitated on September 17 by the "pagers." What then was the purpose of your act of provocation? Your pathetic fireworks could not reverse the course of the situation, especially since the missiles fired from Iran had proven ineffective and insufficient and had provided proof of the vulnerability of a clerical regime on the ropes. It will be alleged that your decision of March 2, a date to remember, was not yours and that it was dictated more by Iranian offices than by strictly Lebanese interests. It will also be argued that you could not stand idly by when the Supreme Leader was shot down and Iran was daily torn apart with impunity. Let us therefore admit your subjection to the big brothers of Qom, Isfahan, and Tehran and confess, in passing, that it does not honor a purportedly Lebanese "resistance." The useless sacrifice and the victorious defeat Hezbollah, you have, in short, "entered the furnace" and you have dragged your people into it, while the ayatollahs' regime had already lost its splendor and was already living on borrowed time. It was said that your vengeful action was pure madness, a headlong rush, and above all, suicide. But was it not rather a sterile sacrifice? You could not absorb the loss of the Supreme Leader without shedding blood. You would have seemed ungrateful, the Iranian regime having invested so much in your structuring and military training. Lacking an adequate lethal arsenal and unable to cause casualties (or so few) in Israel, you would cause them in your own community. Insane and criminal proof of fratellanza, this brotherhood of arms that governs suspicious causes! An anthropologist had already warned us against useless sacrifice which can easily take the form of self-immolation (1). Suicidal, your armed intervention certainly protected your "fantasized communal identity," but at the expense of the real survival of your confessional group. Look closely at the conditions in which the displaced people from the South and Dahiyé survive, scattered as they are throughout the national territory. Consider well what you have done to them! Yet, despite their daily miseries, their attachment to you is unshakeable and unwavering (2). This is because they operate in an eschatological domain, that of "victorious defeat." And as an illustration, the spectacle of your affiliates who, in denial of their reality, maintain that you are triumphant while you are in full rout. Hezbollah, you offered the Shiite social body to a media lynching to respond "always ready" to your mentors and benefactors from the Iranian highlands. Would you, by a reversal of priorities, have made your own people the scapegoat? This political reason's bewilderment can only be explained as the mirror of an archaic mentality, or at least the expression of a hypnotic state. And the rest is of the same ilk! Faced with this distortion of common sense, what to say except: "So much misery for so little glory"! 1-Paul Dumouchel, The Useless Sacrifice. Essay on Political Violence, Paris, Flammarion, 2001. 2- Except perhaps when they express themselves stealthily.

I belong to a generation that grew up with war, that fears dying with it, and that, in the meantime, will have wasted the best years of its life waiting or hoping for things to get better. I belong to that in-between generation that witnessed the pre-1975 era without being able to salvage any real memories of youth from it. The one that can feel regret without ever truly turning the page. The one that believed that today’s youth–regardless of the camp they belong to–would, much as we did, look back and choose life over dying as so-called martyrs. I am left, like so many others, stunned that my country has been pulled back into an absurd war rather than signing a peace deal. It was that very peace that let the rest of the Arab world make giant strides, while we thought we held the region’s Holy Grail. Instead, we have been demoted to the very last rank, forced to witness the permanent reshaping of our geography and our demographics. To leave or to stay is no longer even the question. Today, the very existence of the country is at stake. Whether or not Israel intended to launch a preemptive strike is beside the point. By firing those few rockets, Hezbollah merely handed them the pretext that would prevent us from invoking international law–assuming such a thing even still exists. The federal system causes teeth to gnash–perhaps the country is too small for it–and the Taif Agreement seems obsolete now that coexistence has become so fragile. Indeed, was this famous Lebanese “living together” not built on artificial foundations that always camouflaged the underlying tensions? And is this coexistence not rather a convivence , as historian Dima de Clercq calls it? One that, now, also risks collapsing. Lebanon–and its authorities, who never ceased equivocating over disarming the militia on the pretext of avoiding civil war–now finds itself facing total war. Between two evils, one usually chooses the lesser. Lebanon chose nothing. It allowed itself to be dragged along, biding its time, much like the Iranians who knew all along what the final outcome would be. Alliances are neither made nor broken by cultural or sectarian affinities; they are simply a function of intersecting interests. And when those interests converge, one must know when to board the train–even if it means watching it derail decades later. Such is the way of the world. Especially today’s world, which has gone mad. While Europe was preoccupied with its lag in artificial intelligence, it was blindsided by the war in Ukraine, even as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict took on a permanent character. Far from the ‘Riviera’ promised by Trump, Lebanon now finds itself caught in the nets of a most macabre regime of mullahs. This time, we are told, will be the one–the final reckoning. Except that in this part of the world, nothing is ever final. Everything fluctuates; everything bends to the whims of one autocracy or another. It is useless, then, to believe that the path has been cleared. It is only a matter of time before the weeds grow back. As for aberrations, Lebanon is far from done with them. In a single day, a population that was never even consulted saw its Parliament's mandate extended by two years, and armed militants released on a ten-dollar bail–only for a minister, in an attempt to save face, to refer the judge responsible for this madness to the judiciary. And after all that, you would dare tell me that living in Lebanon doesn’t give you your money's worth? *The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the editorial staff.