Hezbollah Isn’t Finished

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Hussein Srour carries a gardening hose across the wreckage of his hometown, Tayr Harfa, a predominantly Shiite village in Southern Lebanon, just 12 miles north of the Israeli border. The 67-year-old steps over collapsed roofs, missile shells, and the bones of his dead neighbors. He pulls the hose toward the one part of his home that survived: an avocado tree. As he begins to water it, an Israeli drone spots him and tracks his every move. 

“Yes, I get scared,” Srour told me. “But this is not just some land or some house. This is everything to me.”

For the second time in his life, Israel Defense Forces destroyed Srour’s home. They killed his father during an invasion of his village in 1978, before bombing his house in 1984. Years later, Srour rebuilt on the plot—only for Israel to reduce it to rubble again earlier this year.

The strikes that flattened his home were part of Israel’s campaign to weaken Hezbollah—the Iranian-backed group that has long been Lebanon’s most powerful political and military force and has lobbed missiles into Israel for the past four decades, ramping up its fusillades after Hamas’s October 7 massacre of Israeli civilians. Hezbollah’s power and endurance doesn’t just come from Iran’s money or bitterness over Israel’s wars. It’s empowered by a corrupt Lebanese state, leaving its citizens to fend for themselves.

“The Lebanese government is weak—it is a lame duck,” says Hilal Khashan, professor of political science at the American University of Beirut. “Israel made it very clear to the Lebanese government: If you are unable to disarm Hezbollah, we will do it ourselves.”

“Before Trump’s policy in the Middle East can succeed, all armed forces or groups against Israel must be eliminated,” says Khashan. “That’s why the U.S. has already given Israel the green light to deal with Hezbollah when it wants to.”

Now that Gaza is under a ceasefire, Khashan believes Israel will shift its full focus to Hezbollah, which could ignite another major war in Lebanon. Indeed, Israeli jets have pummeled Lebanon this autumn.

If Lebanon’s government could disarm Hezbollah itself, that might not be the case. But until leaders embrace reform—and put the nation above their sects—Lebanon will remain something close to a failed state.

Seeds of Dysfunction

Lebanon’s political dysfunction began long before the latest war. In 1989, Lebanese warlords signed the Taif Agreement—designed to end the country’s 15-year civil war by dividing power among its sects: The president would always be Maronite Catholic, the prime minister Sunni Muslim, and the parliament speaker Shiite.

In practice, the deal only entrenched the same elites who had reigned during  the conflict. For decades, they enriched themselves while driving the country toward one of the worst financial collapses in modern history. By 2019, Lebanon’s economy officially imploded. The currency has lost more than 98 percent of its value. Poverty has more than tripled over the past decade, according to the World Bank. Financial institutions are collapsing, bank accounts are frozen, educated professionals can’t afford groceries, and public employees go unpaid for months.

As the economy crumbled, Hezbollah and the political class propped each other up. The militant Shia group shielded Lebanon’s leaders in exchange for political cover; in return, those leaders defended Hezbollah’s weapons in the name of “resistance” against Israel, even as the country disintegrated.

The Lebanese people have tried to stand up for themselves. During the 2019 collapse, millions poured onto the streets to demand an end to corruption. Leaders promised reforms. But they delivered almost nothing. Then came the Beirut Blast. On August 4, 2020, a massive explosion ripped through Lebanon’s capital—killing 218 people, injuring more than 6,000, and causing billions of dollars in damages. It was caused by 2,750 tons of ammonium nitrate that the government allowed to be haphazardly stored at the Beirut port.

More than five years later, no Lebanese official has been charged. And when new crises hit—like Israel and Hezbollah’s war—the state is nowhere to be found.

A War Without a State

When Hamas unleashed the brutal carnage of October 7, 2023, Hezbollah pulled Lebanon into the fight almost immediately. One day after Hamas’s attacks, the group fired rockets from Lebanon’s southern border into Israel, declaring solidarity with the Palestinians. Lebanon quickly became a second front, as thousands of Israelis fled their homes in the northern part of their country.

And Israel struck back, hard. Airstrikes have pounded southern Lebanon for nearly two years, killing more than 4,000 people, injuring 16,000, and displacing over a million, according to Lebanon’s health ministry. Israel succeeded in killing Hezbollah’s longtime leader, Hassan Nasrallah, but the organization endures; it is entrenched in parliament, running schools and hospitals, rebuilding with Iran’s help.

Hezbollah’s survival is about more than weapons. It endures because millions of Shia Lebanese still see it as the only protector in a country that long ago stopped protecting anyone.

Desperate Lebanese Turn to Hezbollah

When Ahmad Zein Eddine found out his friend was killed in an Israeli strike in Lebanon last year, his first feeling wasn’t grief. It was anxiety.

He couldn’t sleep. One question looped endlessly in his mind: Who’s next?

The 34-year-old, whose green eyes peer out from behind black-rimmed glasses, is from Majdal Selem, a predominantly Shiite town in southern Lebanon. He’s lost count of how many loved ones he’s buried since childhood. In 2023—after surviving decades of war, crisis, and corruption—he finally left for Belgium to pursue a master’s degree in anthropology.

It was supposed to be an escape from the instability back home. But it hasn’t helped. “Last semester, I had to drop three courses because I couldn’t concentrate,” Zein Eddine told me. “I was supposed to defend my master’s thesis in June, but because of what happened throughout the last year, I have to push it to next year.”

His family still lives in Majdal Selem. Most days, he finds himself glued to his phone—refreshing headlines, checking in on relatives, waiting for a call that might never come. But his trauma runs deeper than fear of another airstrike. It’s rooted in Lebanon’s broken political system. “Hezbollah is the party most of my family supports,” he says. “And that created a huge conflict between me and my family. They see Hezbollah as the only one trying to protect them. Because if the state has the ability or the intent to protect them, they would have.”

That belief—that Hezbollah is the only line of defense—explains why so many Lebanese continue to support the group, even as it drags their country into another war. In fact, in Lebanon’s local elections in May, establishment parties—Hezbollah, its Shiite ally Amal, and other traditional factions—won across dozens of municipalities.

This loyalty isn’t just hurting Lebanon—it’s affecting the entire Middle East.

Time to Act

For decades, Iran has pursued one goal: Expand its influence in the Middle East. So far, its most effective weapon has been Hezbollah. The Shiite Muslim political party and militant group was founded during the chaos of Lebanon’s 15-year civil war (1975-1990). Backed by Iran, Hezbollah was built to extend Tehran’s reach and resist Israel.

Over the past decade, the U.S. and Israel have pummeled other Iranian-aligned forces: the Shiite militias in Iraq, the Assad regime in Syria, and Hamas in Gaza. But Hezbollah remains Iran’s strongest proxy.

In January, after nearly two years of political paralysis, Lebanon elected a new president: Joseph Aoun, the former army chief. In his inaugural speech, he declared that only the Lebanese army would bear arms—a direct rebuke to Hezbollah’s claim that it alone can defend the nation.

But so far, Aoun’s attempts to engage with Hezbollah have gone nowhere.

“We need the ruling elite to, forgive my term, man up—to act,” said Hicham Bou Nassif, an associate professor of International Relations and the Middle East at Claremont McKenna College.

Bou Nassif left Lebanon at 30 to pursue higher education in the U.S.

Like millions in the Lebanese diaspora—he had no choice but to build a future outside his beloved homeland and like so many of his countrymen he’s been enormoously successful when freed from the pathologies of his native land. No wonder he’s not moving back.

“When I got my Ph.D., it was time to go back,” he tells me. “But which Lebanon was I supposed to go back to? A Hezbollah-controlled Lebanon? No, thank you. So yeah, I was pushed out.”

Bou Nassif says the political system has condemned Lebanon to chaos. But he also sees potential for revival.

There’s a large middle class and countless Lebanese expats who yearn to return to their homeland—a place once known as the Paris of the Middle East. On the Mediterranean coast with snow-capped mountains that slope down to serene beaches, abundant harvests, world-renowned cuisine and nightlife, and a spiritually rich history.

“Can you imagine if you have peace? You’d have half a million Lebanese expats moving back. The country could boom in no time,” Bou Nassif says. “But will we have peace? Nobody’s going to leave New York or Montreal to go back to the status quo.”

Lebanon has the people, talent, and passion to rebuild. What it lacks is leadership willing to put the country first.