- 16
- Oct.
- 2024
In just 24 hours, events in Lebanon have rapidly unfolded, but not in a unified direction. At times, they've even moved in opposite ways! The Tower of Babel feels all too real...
The Lebanese Prime Minister sought to reassure the public: "We have American guarantees to scale down strikes on Beirut." The US had expressed concern over the intense bombings, stating they urged Israel to show restraint. This gave Lebanese citizens, glued to their screens and sharing updates, a flicker of hope. A ceasefire was even reportedly being discussed at the UN. Business as usual—or so it seemed.
Not everyone, however, was on the same page. The Israeli Prime Minister had a different perspective. After a few days of relative calm, new airstrikes were launched this Wednesday in the southern suburbs of Beirut. While the Lebanese and Americans were busy discussing pressures and guarantees, Netanyahu stated that his army would strike anywhere—including Beirut. It appears there’s a real communication gap among these parties. A universal translator is desperately needed in the Middle East. Seemingly, nothing and no one has any sway over Tel Aviv.
In stark contrast to this obstinacy comes Hezbollah’s unwavering position. Its Deputy Secretary-General could have spared himself the trouble of giving another speech—just a recurrence of the same phrases week after week. In other words, all is well on the ground, victory is certain, there is no leadership vacuum in the organization, the Israelis will soon have a new wave of refugees to deal with, the 1.2 million displaced Lebanese are part of the sacrifices, and Lebanon and Gaza share a common destiny.
Here is the gist of it: Israel and Hezbollah operate on parallel lines that never meet.
And what about the guarantees? Promises only bind those who believe them. In reality, both key players are still eager to settle scores.
Beirut Airport has now become a focal point. Lebanon—unsolicited in this conflict—has turned into a "beggar nation," with friendly countries sending humanitarian and medical aid. They deserve thanks, truly. Although Lebanon once led the region in medical expertise, the war has reduced it to a charity case, with leaders busy distributing donations instead of finding political solutions to end the people’s suffering.
It seems Lebanon has two types of friends: those like the Gulf countries, who send material aid, and then Iran, which focuses on "psychological support." Not a single box of Panadol has come from Tehran. Instead, amidst genuine aid, Iranian envoys tirelessly deliver their message: "We’re proud of you. Keep fighting. We’re fully behind you."
The Lebanese might respond with: "Thanks for everything. By the way, how are those secret negotiations going? We hope the bombs and bloodshed aren’t interfering with your plans."
After all, given what Iran has done for Gaza and now Lebanon, how could the Lebanese fully express their gratitude? If, by the time Tehran’s dealings with Israel are done, Lebanon no longer exists, maybe they’ll pray for us in Al-Quds—assuming we all agree on what to call it. Typical, isn’t it?
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