
Tom Barrack's memo: A country afraid of its own sovereignty
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The Lebanese state is dragging its feet in replying to – and more importantly, implementing –Barrack's memo, stalling behind closed-door consultations and awaiting 'consensus,' while the region and the world demand clarity. This delay is not strategic; it is symptomatic of a leadership unwilling to confront the basic questions of national identity, legitimacy, and power.
Behind the closed doors of the presidential palace and the murmurings of Beirut's political salons, the mood is not one of bold recalibration. It is one of hesitation, delay, and carefully measured evasion. Lebanon appears once again poised to let history move past it, rather than risk stepping into its own future.
At the heart of the international initiative lies a simple but foundational idea: that Lebanon must reclaim the exclusive right to use force within its borders. In essence, that weapons should rest in the hands of the state alone. In almost any functioning democracy, this would be an uncontroversial premise. But in Lebanon, the issue remains taboo, bound tightly to the question of Hezbollah and the legacy of the so-called 'resistance.'
Rather than seizing this as an opportunity to launch a national conversation – on terms that Lebanon itself defines – its leadership appears determined to tread water. The idea of integrating all weapons under a national defense strategy is once again being floated. Yet this strategy remains hypothetical, a perennial placeholder that has never materialized – and never will – under current power structures. The state keeps invoking dialogue with Hezbollah – an internationally designated terrorist entity – not as a prelude to decisions, but as a substitute for them.
One of the most consistent tactics of Lebanese officialdom is to turn every proposal into a chicken-and-egg scenario. The ongoing debate over the Barrack memo is a clear case in point.
No disarmament without Israeli withdrawals. No reform without international guarantees. No diplomacy without regional consensus. On their own, these positions are not unreasonable – but when deployed reflexively, they become tools of paralysis. By insisting that every internal reform be predicated on external moves – especially from Israel – Lebanon ensures that it will always be responding, never initiating. This is not strategic leverage. It is learned helplessness, dressed up as negotiation.
Meanwhile, the narrative that Lebanon is merely a passive victim of Israeli aggression is losing its persuasive power. The international community is less concerned today with adjudicating blame than with charting a path out of perpetual instability. Lebanon's leaders seem unable – or unwilling – to offer one.
What may be most troubling in the current moment is the unspoken but palpable understanding that no serious move will be taken without Hezbollah's approval. Not integration into state structures, not decisions on war and peace, not even the framing of a national position. This is not the behavior of a sovereign republic – it is a power-sharing arrangement gone metastatic.
Hezbollah continues to occupy a dual role: both within the state and above it. A political party in parliament, a militia with regional reach, and a diplomatic gatekeeper all in one. While the party signals tactical flexibility – expressing openness to dialogue and disinterest in fresh conflict – it still wields the ultimate veto over national decisions. This veto manifests itself in the person of the omnipresent Speaker of Parliament, Nabih Berri, who uses his position to leverage Hezbollah's weapons for further political gain, even at the expense of the Lebanese constitution.
Let us be clear: Hezbollah no longer insists on keeping its arms solely to fight Israel. That pretext has worn thin. Its real aim is internal – preserving its strategic dominance over the Lebanese state. The gun is no longer aimed across the border. It is pointed inward, at the idea of statehood itself. This is neither accountability nor compromise. It is a state outsourced to one of its own components.
Even tentative international proposals reportedly on the table – such as limited Israeli withdrawals in exchange for modest Lebanese gestures on the arms issue – are treated with extreme caution. Rather than use such gestures as openings for creative diplomacy, the instinct is to consult, defer, and wait. The fear of internal rupture is so great that the status quo becomes the only policy.
This is not strategic ambiguity. It is strategic surrender.
Lebanon's predicament is not new. For years, the country has survived by managing contradictions rather than resolving them – chief among them, allowing an Iranian-sponsored militia to use and abuse Lebanon, its people, and its economy. But that model is no longer sustainable. With regional alignments shifting, economic lifelines drying up, and public confidence near collapse, Lebanon cannot afford to postpone the fundamentals of statehood. It must reclaim its sovereignty by fully disarming Hezbollah and implementing UNSCR 1701.
The international community is not demanding perfection. But it is demanding clarity, seriousness, and a credible pathway to stability. Lebanon owes itself – and its citizens – more than another round of circular deliberations hidden behind vague talk of consensus. What Lebanon needs now is not another conference, nor another draft proposal shuffled between factions. It needs political courage. It needs leadership that can define national interest independent of sectarian vetoes or foreign patrons. It needs to stop waiting for the region to settle before settling its own house.
The question is simple, if painful: Does Lebanon wish to be a state among states, or a buffer zone between stronger actors?
Until it finds the will to answer that honestly, it will remain trapped in its tragic in-betweenness – governed by negotiations it doesn't lead, haunted by choices it refuses to make.
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