If the adage “history repeats itself” holds, Lebanon is the glaring exception. Here, the lines between victory and defeat are hopelessly blurred, the authors of history are many, and responsibility for war is lost somewhere between denial and reluctant admission.
This serves merely as a prelude to Lebanon’s current predicament: Israel openly declaring victory, while "Hezbollah" flatly denies defeat. The result? A political deadlock and stalled negotiations led by U.S. presidential envoy Tom Barrack, who is trapped in a loop of fruitless discussions.
The diplomatic impasse is hard to disguise, despite sugar-coated phrases like “an excellent meeting”—words Barrack used following his encounter with Speaker Nabih Berri. Such rhetoric echoes his boss, President Donald Trump, who liberally throws around “great,” “tremendous,” and “wonderful” after every high-level meeting, most recently during his Gulf tour.
At the heart of Barrack’s mission lies Lebanon’s very own “Gordian Knot”—a complex, intractable dilemma. Israel, having claimed victory in the recent “support war,” is now pushing for its conditions to be met before halting airstrikes or withdrawing. "Hezbollah", refusing to acknowledge any loss, is resisting those demands and flipping the order of priorities.
Israel’s key condition is the disarmament of "Hezbollah" throughout Lebanon, under the ceasefire terms set out on November 26. "Hezbollah", meanwhile, insists on four prerequisites before even beginning a dialogue on its arms within a proposed “defense strategy”: an end to airstrikes and assassinations, Israeli withdrawal, prisoner releases, and the launch of reconstruction efforts.
The gap between the two sides remains vast—too vast to be bridged by Barrack’s proposals, nor by the Lebanese government’s so-called “comprehensive response,” nor by Berri’s maneuvers, including his latest attempt at a two-week or one-month truce.
Strikingly, Lebanon’s ruling trio—the president, the speaker, and the prime minister—have continued to avoid submitting any of these proposals to either the Cabinet or Parliament, the two constitutional bodies authorized to decide such matters. By involving the Speaker and others in the negotiations, the President has effectively relinquished his constitutional prerogative in foreign policy.
Observers note that Lebanon’s leadership has also succumbed to empty platitudes, filling both statements and responses to Barrack with flowery reassurances, like the routine reminder that “the decision to restrict arms has already been made,” citing the presidential oath, cabinet policy statements, and other past declarations.
But Lebanon’s leaders appear either unwilling or too afraid to address the core of the U.S. mission: establishing a timeline for disarmament via a Cabinet decision. Instead, their advisors’ statements dodge the issue under the pretext of “avoiding civil strife.”
This dangerous limbo—between Israeli pressure, "Hezbollah"’s intransigence, and the hesitant posturing of Lebanon’s leadership—has placed Barrack’s mission in jeopardy. Whether he returns for a fourth round or walks away from the whole mess, Lebanon’s fate hangs in the balance.
Ultimately, saving Lebanon hinges on one key priority: the full restoration of state sovereignty, where only the legitimate state holds the right to bear arms. From this foundation, reforms can be launched, and international investment and aid can flow. Without it, no amount of Arab diplomacy—particularly with the Gulf—can bring Lebanon back. Symbolic gestures will remain just that until Lebanon becomes a state that controls its decisions and its weapons.
Meanwhile, France may be stepping in to fill the void left by Washington’s stalled efforts, with President Emmanuel Macron welcoming Lebanese Prime Minister Nawaf Salam in Paris. But Macron’s track record on Lebanon, especially following the 2020 Beirut port explosion, has been disappointing. His initiatives have offered neither solutions nor hope.
What’s truly dangerous is that this cycle of shifting roles, initiatives, and negotiations between world capitals has yet to solve Lebanon’s chronic dilemma. It evokes the legend of Alexander the Great, who sliced through the Gordian knot with his sword. In Lebanon’s case, however, the sword is Israeli—and the neck is Lebanese.
And amid all this political gloom, one bitter irony remains: politicians and media figures indulge in wordplay—“optimism,” “pessimism,” “optipessimism”—as if Lebanon’s crisis were a literary parlor game from the era of decline. But between tears and laughter, sometimes the laughter is just another form of crying.
Politics
