The question of whether Lebanon can survive a 'Gaza scenario' hinges on an assumption that warrants scrutiny before it can be addressed: the idea that there are options to choose from. However, before we can ask whether Lebanon can survive a 'Gaza scenario', we must confront a more fundamental reality: survival is impossible without the ability to make sovereign decisions.
Today, what has changed is not the diagnosis, but the time available to avert it. Surviving a 'Gaza scenario' cannot be achieved through good intentions alone; it requires deconstructing the structural conditions that render such a scenario both possible and inevitable within an international system that glorifies power and criminalizes weakness. Anything less remains in the realm of wishful thinking.
Structural defect
Max Weber defined the modern state by its monopoly over the legitimate use of violence—not as an end in itself, but as an expression of legitimacy grounded in human relations. In Lebanon, this distinction is no theoretical luxury. Since the Taif Agreement, the exception regarding Hezbollah’s weaponry has become an existing norm, creating a dual reality in which the state and a militant group share the sovereign decision of war and peace. During times of peace, this imbalance was not viewed as a theoretical dilemma; instead, it was managed through the habitual half-solutions and maneuvers of Lebanese political elites—tactics that postponed decisive action, not out of an inability to see it, but because every party profited more from the status quo than they would from its resolution. Thus, Hezbollah maintained its arms, the state maintained its claim to sovereignty, and the elites maintained their roles as intermediaries between the two.
This arrangement was not sustained by silence alone, but perhaps by each party conditioning the other not to alter the status quo unilaterally. Any among the Lebanese elites who sought to pursue the disarmament of Hezbollah faced a dual equation: the loss of the Shiite support base domestically, and the loss of the regional balance of which the party was an integral part abroad.
When Hezbollah launched its rockets at northern Israel on March 2, 2026, it was a decision made by a non-state actor without the approval of, or even consultation with, the Lebanese government. What this decision reveals is not merely a lack of coordination, but the absence of any binding mechanism. The party felt no need to consult because it had never faced consequences for its unilateral actions. Prime Minister Nawaf Salam later described this decision, on March 7, to Asharq Al-Awsat, as a “strategic error that dragged Lebanon into a conflict it did not choose.” This statement was unprecedented in the history of relations between Lebanese governments and the party, unprecedented in its phrasing, though not in its substance; for Salam was merely describing what everyone had always known but preferred to ignore. Israel responded with intensive airstrikes on the Southern Suburbs of Beirut and southern Lebanon, followed by ground operations on March 16 aimed at establishing a “security buffer zone” extending to the Litani River. In the process, the Qasmiyeh Bridge was destroyed to isolate the South from the rest of the country, while Israeli Defense Minister Israel Katz described the strategy as “simulating the tactics used in Gaza against Hamas,” involving the systematic destruction of buildings, tunnels, and bridges. Since March 2, 2026, the toll of this aggression has reached thousands of martyrs and injuries.
Two conflicting logics
Pausing at the question, “Why did the party make this decision?” assumes that there is a decision in the strict sense of the word, meaning a choice between available alternatives, measured against a specific metric. However, the party did not emerge as a Lebanese political entity in its current form; it was established as an arm of a regional project, with its decision-making center in Tehran. The question is therefore not whether the decision was right or wrong, but who truly holds the sovereign power over war and peace, and by what criteria they measure it.
When U.S.-Israeli strikes on Iran commenced on February 28, 2026, Hezbollah’s mobilization was not a Lebanese decision but rather a response to an urgent Iranian necessity: proving that the proxy network remained operational even when its head was struck, while dispersing pressure across multiple fronts. Following the fall of the Assad regime, Lebanon had become the most readily mobilizable card, not for its military value, but because its cost to Tehran was lowest while its cost to Beirut was highest. This is why Prime Minister Nawaf Salam’s description of the decision as a “strategic error” is accurate from one perspective yet deficient from another. It accurately names the Lebanese cost. But it assumes the party measured its interest against a Lebanese metric and miscalculated, even though it did not employ that metric at all. The difference between a miscalculation and a clash of two logics governed by entirely different criteria is the difference between a problem solved by improving coordination and one that cannot be resolved without redefining who holds the sovereign power over war and peace.
The issue of disarmament clarifies this confusion. A lack of political will is often attributed to a state's incapacity, as if the problem lies in the actors' resolve rather than in the structure of the situation. However, political willpower is influenced by the balance of power and cost-benefit analysis. When the Lebanese Army considers the cost of confronting a group whose arsenal exceeds that of many sovereign states and recognizes that such a confrontation would result in a sectarian alignment that would tear the army apart, it is not demonstrating cowardice. It is making a rational calculation. The apparent absence of will is, in reality, a collective decision to avoid a disaster whose contours are already visible.
It is assumed that the Shiite community can be separated from the party through an appropriate national discourse. But it is currently facing what Michael Young describes as an existential threat from multiple directions at once. This includes over 1,049,328 displaced registered through the Lebanese government’s relief platform as of 1 April 2026, according to Ministry of Social Affairs, Disaster Risk Management Unit, cited in UNHCR; a new regime in Syria led by factions overtly hostile to its components; and an Israeli military machine that strikes without pause. A community in such a position does not relinquish its weapons simply because a national discourse demands it. In their view, weaponry is not merely an ideological gamble but rather a guarantee of survival in the face of what they perceive as real and multi-fronted threats. Any approach to disarmament that fails to address this underlying perception will not solve the dilemma; rather, it will magnify its magnitude and deepen the deadlock.
In sum, Lebanon’s situation is not due to a lack of political will or diplomatic solutions. Rather, it is the predictable outcome of a structural arrangement in which sovereign decision-making over war and peace is held by an actor whose calculations are defined outside Lebanon’s borders. Until this arrangement is confronted, not managed, surviving the Gaza scenario will require dismantling the false binary between a toothless state and a borderless mini-state. A true state must reclaim its role as the sole framework for organizing force and providing security. Anything less merely postpones an inevitable confrontation with a collision-based logic that recognizes no neutrality in a conflict funded by those who have lost their right to say no.
Translated by Mohamed El Sadat.