On a sweltering morning, something unusual unfolds in front of the Justice Palace in the centre of Lebanon’s capital Beirut: a group of men in suits steps out, calling the day “historic.” “We have filed a lawsuit against Naim Qassem. Ten years ago this would have been unthinkable. We are living in a new era,” they say.
One of them once served as justice minister, Beirut’s police chief, and head of the national police. A lifelong opponent of Hezbollah, he is now taking the group’s deputy secretary-general to court—accusing him of inciting sectarian unrest, armed rebellion against the state, and violating the constitutional principle that only the state may decide on war and peace.
A few years ago, such a move would have carried grave consequences for the plaintiffs. Today, they step in front of the cameras to declare: Lebanon is building a new state—independent of Iran, where only the police and army are allowed to carry weapons. Their complaint accuses Hezbollah, the Shiite militia and political party, of dragging Lebanon into war with Israel after October 7. Whether their case will succeed remains uncertain.
Lebanon is home to 18 recognized religious communities. Yet in the past two decades, Shiite dominance—anchored in Hezbollah and its ally Amal—has shaped politics, backed by a vast arsenal of weapons. Officially, these arms were justified as “resistance” against Israel; in practice, they also served to intimidate domestic opponents. Much of that arsenal has since been destroyed, and much of the leadership, including Hassan Nasrallah, was killed in Israeli strikes.
With President Joseph Aoun and Prime Minister Nawaf Salam taking office in January, Lebanon saw its first government in decades openly committed to enforcing the state’s monopoly on arms and disarming Hezbollah. Eight months later, however, no one knows how this should be achieved. The militia refuses to negotiate and threatens civil war.
Aoun initially placed his hopes in dialogue—without success. Hezbollah insists it will only discuss disarmament once Israel withdraws from southern positions and halts attacks. Israel, in turn, demands that Hezbollah disarm before any pullback.
U.S. envoy Tom Barrack tried over the summer to broker a compromise: a memorandum with a phased withdrawal and disarmament plan. On August 10, Lebanon’s cabinet formally endorsed the disarmament process. Barrack hailed the move as “historic,” declaring it was now Israel’s turn. Yet rocket fire resumed almost immediately. Barrack flew to Jerusalem, met with Netanyahu, and returned accompanied by Senator Lindsey Graham—who flatly rejected any phased plan. Hezbollah, he argued, must first be disarmed—by force if necessary—before any withdrawal or aid could be considered.
For President Aoun, it was a diplomatic fiasco. He had taken Barrack’s assurances seriously and believed Lebanon had Washington’s backing. Instead, the government felt blindsided. “The Americans did the opposite of what they promised,” complained Amal leader Nabih Berri.
When Barrack lashed out at reporters in Beirut, accusing them of “animalistic behavior,” Hezbollah seized on the remark as proof that neither Americans nor Israelis could be trusted—another reason to cling to its weapons.
Where does that leave Lebanon? “I doubt the government can do more than it already has,” says one analyst, host of the talk program Beirut Banyan. He sees little prospect of disarmament. The army is expected to present a plan soon, but President Aoun has ruled out the use of force. Moreover, Hezbollah’s new leadership is far from autonomous; orders come directly from Tehran. The fact that Iran is not directly engaged in negotiations, he argues, is a critical mistake.
At the start of the year, Lebanon was brimming with optimism. But banking reform, electoral law, and the Hezbollah question have all stalled. “The decision to disarm the militia is historic,” the analyst says. “But for now, the story ends here.”
