Lebanon enters talks with Israel but with no cards to play

Lebanon enters talks with Israel but with no cards to play

Last August, I sat with President Joseph Aoun at Baabda Palace, a modernist structure atop a hill overlooking Beirut. The country, once more embroiled in conflict, had just emerged from a brutal war between Israel and Hezbollah, a militia and political faction backed by Iran. Aoun, a retired military leader, assumed office under dire circumstances, pledging to dismantle Hezbollah’s arsenal. Yet, the group remained a formidable force, both within the nation’s borders and in the minds of its supporters.

A fragile truce had been brokered in November 2024, ending hostilities between Israel and Hezbollah. However, the ceasefire did not halt all fighting. Israeli air strikes continued to target individuals and groups linked to Hezbollah, while pockets of conflict lingered in the country. Even from my residence in eastern Beirut, the hum of Israeli drones overhead was a constant reminder of the war’s persistence.

The Shadow of Hezbollah

Hezbollah, or the Party of God, was established in the 1980s during Israel’s occupation of Lebanon. Funded, trained, and armed by Iran, it has long positioned itself as a resistance movement against Israeli forces. The Taif Agreement of 1989 sought to disarm all militias and distribute political power among Lebanon’s diverse communities. But Hezbollah, framing itself as a defender of the occupation, retained its weapons. Israel withdrew its troops in 2000, yet disputes over territory persisted.

UN Resolution 1701, enacted in 2006, ended the war and mandated Hezbollah’s disarming. Despite this, the group has maintained its military presence, controlling key regions like Dahieh, Beirut’s southern suburbs, and the eastern Bekaa Valley. Its arsenal, however, remains a point of contention. Naim Qassem, the group’s leader, has rejected broader disarmament efforts, leaving President Aoun in a precarious position.

“I was born an optimist,” Aoun remarked during our August meeting. But his optimism now faces a stark reality: a nation split over Hezbollah’s role, with supporters viewing it as a shield against Israeli aggression and critics seeing it as an extension of Iran’s influence.

In February, the assassination of Iranian Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei during a US-Israeli strike on Tehran triggered Hezbollah’s retaliation. The group launched rockets into Israel, framing the attacks as a response to Khamenei’s death and ongoing Israeli bombings during the ceasefire. Israel, in turn, responded with air strikes and a renewed ground invasion, escalating tensions.

Aoun, aiming to prevent further bloodshed, proposed direct talks with Israel—a bold move between nations that do not officially recognize each other. Israel delayed engagement until last week, when the US brokered a ceasefire with Iran, prompting Israel to conduct devastating air strikes that claimed over 300 lives in a single day. A meeting between ambassadors is now set for Tuesday in Washington, focusing on a potential end to the violence.

With limited authority over Hezbollah, the Lebanese government struggles to enforce disarmament. Aoun’s policy of maintaining a “state monopoly on arms” has drawn criticism, as he warns that unilateral action against Hezbollah could reignite civil war. As the talks proceed, the question remains: can Lebanon achieve lasting peace, or will its divisions continue to fuel conflict?