The moment Naim Qassem publicly and explicitly approved the ceasefire agreement, before Amos Hochstein even landed in Tel Aviv, he was, in effect, admitting to the collapse of Hezbollah’s project. The party’s insistence on securing a binding ceasefire agreement, even while Israeli forces remained on southern Lebanese soil, amounts to nothing less than a confession: the gamble on “resistance” has failed, and the role of the weapons has expired. By extension, so has the party’s regional function, as defined for it by the Iranian regime.
Hezbollah has repeatedly acknowledged the imbalance in power with Israel, an imbalance now reinforced by Washington and NATO’s green light to dismantle Iran’s regional militias. One might have expected, in response, a measured plan to implement both the Lebanese president’s oath of office and the new government’s policy declaration, particularly the clause about restricting arms to the state. This position enjoys near-unanimous national support. Reclaiming state authority today means two things: first, restricting arms to legitimate institutions and dismantling the militias (including those hiding behind “scout formations”); and second, asserting financial and economic sovereignty to give the Lebanese people hope of reclaiming their rights.
While it may be early to judge the performance of President Joseph Aoun, just past the third month of his election, and Prime Minister Nawaf Salam’s cabinet, now in its second month, what cannot be ignored is that time is a luxury Lebanon cannot afford. The country is drained, wounded, and once-liberated Lebanese territory is now back under occupation. Heightening the state of alarm are reports in The New York Times that Israel is erecting military installations within Lebanese and Syrian borders—part of a plan to create vast buffer zones in neighboring Arab states, emptied of civilians, soldiers, and arms alike.
Against this backdrop, the region must be read as a compass. In Gaza, renewed acts of genocide barely register to the outside world. In Yemen, U.S. airstrikes against Houthi militias have been lethal and sustained. Baghdad is now deliberating how best to “retire” its own militias and dismantle the Popular Mobilization Forces. In Iran, Khamenei has opted to negotiate with the Americans under fire, even under Trump-era conditions, while Iranian leadership watches the naval blockade tightening around it. To Tehran, preserving national interest now takes priority over prolonging peripheral wars, especially after the collapse of its regional proxy model. Except in Lebanon, where no real steps have been taken toward disarmament, only vague talk of a “national security strategy,” perhaps to buy time until U.S.-Iranian negotiations yield some outcome.
But given the regional context, one thing is certain: it is not in Lebanon’s interest to leave its fate hanging on the outcome of negotiations that could drag on for months. Such delay could squander the momentum of Gulf, Arab, and international support. Denying the obvious no longer helps: the so-called “resistance” has failed, and the non-state arms it wielded have only brought ruin, reoccupation, blocked return of displaced populations, and a halt to reconstruction efforts. Any hesitation to assert sovereignty is, at this stage, a massive blow to whatever hope remains, and to the aspirations of a now battered population.
In this context, there are serious concerns that the president’s initiative to engage in bilateral dialogue with Hezbollah over disarmament—absent any use of force—may not be properly understood. The real fear is that it will lead nowhere, leaving Lebanon vulnerable to more external pressure, increased attacks, and expanding Israeli encroachment. What feeds this fear is that Hezbollah has no tangible political objective left to fight for. So the question arises: what could it possibly demand in exchange for handing over its weapons?
We must be clear-eyed: Hezbollah is a security-militia structure, tied since its inception to the task of defending the Iranian regime and its regional ambitions. It is not institutionally equipped to surrender its weapons voluntarily, even if doing so would stop Israeli aggression or pave the way to rebuilding vast areas now devastated far worse than they were after the 2006 war, including zones vital to its own support base.
Look more closely at its conduct, and it appears as though the party believes it has recovered its footing, ready to resume “resistance” whenever it decides. It’s trying to overcome a bitter defeat before any new authority can take root—one that might rally the country around it. And it’s turning up the pressure on the government, accusing it of failing to reclaim land diplomatically, all in an effort to paint it as ineffectual in the eyes of its followers.
Hezbollah is attempting to deflect blame for the crime it committed against Lebanon: dragging the country, unilaterally and violently, into a war that destroyed it and brought back occupation. Now, it seeks to extract what it couldn’t achieve back when it controlled parliament and government. Its circles are floating proposals ranging from creating “support companies” and “border patrol units,” to demanding state-funded salaries and compensation for its fighters, over 20,000 of whom died in the latest war and earlier, in Syria, supporting the former regime.
What’s worrying is that all of this may amount to little more than stalling, killing time until Tehran gives the green light. And if that’s the case, we must ask: will Lebanon still have a window left—political, financial, and moral—to enter into a phase of national recovery?
