It started with the ceasefire agreement, negotiated by Nabih Berri and signed off by Najib Mikati’s government—a deal that Hezbollah, despite its victory rhetoric, ultimately had to accept with all its terms. Terms that, like most things in Lebanon, we are only beginning to understand through practice rather than clarity. How is this agreement actually enforced? Has Hezbollah given guarantees for its implementation, or is it simply waiting for the right moment to maneuver around it? We don’t know. And, unsurprisingly, with Lebanon’s infamous lack of transparency and accountability, we probably never will.

Meanwhile, President Joseph Aoun and PM Nawaf Salam were branded Zionists last week by Airport Road protestors, despite being new to their roles and having little to do with how the deal was struck. It’s almost poetic how Lebanon’s political class has mastered the art of controlling narratives, while those calling themselves reformists continue to fumble it entirely, failing to use this tool to their advantage.

Anyway, back to the agreement itself. At least in the terms that were made public, it strictly defines who can bear arms; but not how that enforcement is supposed to happen. While in principle, it was meant not only to end hostilities but also to reshape Lebanon’s security, sources close to Hezbollah continue to fan the flames about holding onto their weapons; as though nothing in this agreement applies to them. So as the ink dries on the ceasefire, one that ended without an extension, without a roadmap, and without a clear future on its implementation, uncertainty settled in like a permanent guest; making itself at home.

And so, as the country grappled with a ceasefire that was as ambiguous in its enforcement as it was definitive in its wording, the political scene continued to shift. Then came the presidential elections, which saw the rise of Joseph Aoun, a figure who represented a shift in both military and political leadership. Shortly after, Nawaf Salam was chosen as Prime Minister, an appointment that, despite his reputation as a reformist, was met with skepticism given Lebanon’s history of governments being bound by sectarian power-sharing.

The extension of the ceasefire, debated and brokered in international corridors, bought Lebanon a few more weeks of fragile peace, but it also left Hezbollah in a precarious position, forced to recalibrate its strategy and navigate a reality that, at least on paper, no longer justified its armed presence.

Then, on February 14, Lebanon marked the 20th anniversary of Rafic Hariri’s assassination, a date that has long served as a political moment of reckoning. The return of Saad Hariri, once dismissed as politically irrelevant, suddenly became a focal point of speculation. Would he re-enter politics? Could he reclaim Sunni leadership? Or is his return symbolic? His speech that day was measured, pointedly avoiding any mention of Hezbollah, leaving the door open to interpretation.

And now, on February 23, Hezbollah will hold a major ceremony for Hassan Nasrallah and Hashem Safieddine, a moment that is expected to be more than just a funeral. This will be the party’s opportunity to reframe its narrative, to reposition itself after the war, and to define what its role will be moving forward. Yet, the real question remains: What will Hezbollah do next?

Has Hezbollah decided their narrative for Sunday? Will they recalibrate their position and accept the reality that Lebanon is moving in a different direction, toward a state-centered model rather than a militia-controlled one? Or will the ‘Party of God’ attempt to resurrect the legacy of Nasrallah, keeping the same policies, the same defiance, and the same political positioning that has left Lebanon in cycles of conflict?

Meanwhile, how will this impact Hariri’s political trajectory? He avoided mentioning Hezbollah in his speech, yet his return inevitably intersects with the changes happening within the Shia leadership. Sunni representation in the government and parliament today is no longer his, but could be next year. Will he seek to reclaim it, and how will the shifting Shia political scene affect that dynamic?

The 24th of February: a country unwritten

By the morning of February 24, Lebanon could look very different, or it could look exactly the same. Will this moment mark a genuine step forward, or just another temporary realignment before the next inevitable crisis?

Is organic, sustainable progress actually possible? Or is this simply another fire being put out, another reset that will last a decade before the next eruption?

Too many questions, too few answers. But if there’s one undeniable reality, it’s that change is the only certainty in Lebanon today. The paths ahead are still open; but which one Lebanon chooses remains unclear.