Opinion

In recent days, seeing the army withdraw from certain southern villages like Rmeich, Ain Ebel, Debel, or Qlayaa stirs something inside that is hard to name. It's not just sadness. It's older than that, deeper, as if this retreat confirms an intuition we've long suppressed: that of a country slowly slipping out of itself. In cafes, in the messages we send each other in the evening, we feel that something has cracked. But emotion, however accurate it may be, is not enough to understand what is happening. And as long as we remain immersed in it, we see nothing. An army is not meant to commit suicide. It is meant to last long enough to still be useful when it truly matters. Sending men without cover against an overwhelming power is not courage. It is ordering their death while calling it bravery.

Our decaying Republic has regained its luster. It only took one of our ministers to show firmness and 'dismiss', in accordance with established rules, the accredited representative of Iran. And it was all the more to Youssef Rajji's credit that he managed to weather the storm sparked by his impertinence. However, it should not be believed that this diplomatic show of force would go so far as to restore the credibility of this government or administration. It would take a hell of a lot more; and purges of Stalinist scale would barely be enough! The Khalij in fire and blood But let's go to the Persian Gulf, since that's what it should be called. Cornered in its last strongholds, Tehran has decided to set the said Khalij ablaze!

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.

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.

“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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.