Israeli warplanes struck residential areas in Qannaret, southern Lebanon, on Tuesday, marking the latest in a series of attacks that have persisted despite the November ceasefire agreement between Israel and Hezbollah.
Video footage circulating on social media shows plumes of smoke rising from what appears to be a residential complex in the southern Lebanese town, with the sound of aircraft overhead and secondary explosions echoing through the area.
The strikes come as Lebanese President Joseph Aoun publicly praised his government for ensuring "not a single bullet" has been fired at Israel from Lebanese territory since the ceasefire took effect. Yet residents in southern Lebanon report a starkly different reality on the ground.
The Gap Between Rhetoric and Reality
"The ceasefire exists only in Beirut's official statements," said one resident of the south who requested anonymity. "We hear the jets almost daily. The explosions are real. Our children cannot sleep."
The November 2026 ceasefire agreement, brokered with French and American mediation, was meant to end two months of intense fighting between Israel and Hezbollah. Under its terms, both sides agreed to halt military operations, with the Lebanese army deployed to the south to prevent Hezbollah from rebuilding its military infrastructure near the border.
Israel has maintained throughout that it reserves the right to strike what it considers "imminent threats" to its security, a clause that has proven elastic in practice. Israeli officials have not commented on the latest strikes in Qannaret, following their usual policy of neither confirming nor denying specific operations in Lebanon.
The Lebanese government, meanwhile, finds itself in a familiar predicament. Newly-elected President Aoun, a former army commander, has staked his credibility on demonstrating state control over southern Lebanon and preventing Hezbollah from dragging the country into another war. His emphasis on Lebanese restraint serves both to satisfy international mediators and to signal that Beirut has fulfilled its obligations under the ceasefire.
Yet the continued Israeli operations expose the fragility of this arrangement. The Lebanese state cannot defend its airspace, and lacks the military capability to respond to violations. Hezbollah, for its part, has shown remarkable discipline in not retaliating, understanding that any response would provide Israel with justification for a broader military campaign.
A Familiar Pattern
This dynamic is not new. UN Security Council Resolution 1701, which ended the 2006 war between Israel and Hezbollah, has been violated thousands of times over the past 18 years, primarily by Israeli aircraft entering Lebanese airspace. The Lebanese government files complaints with the United Nations. The complaints are noted. The flights continue.
What makes the current situation more precarious is the weakness of the Lebanese state itself. The country has been in economic freefall since 2019, its currency has lost more than 95 percent of its value, and basic services have collapsed. The army is underpaid and under-equipped. UNIFIL, the UN peacekeeping force in southern Lebanon, has neither the mandate nor the capability to enforce the ceasefire against a state as militarily powerful as Israel.
For residents of southern Lebanon, the ceasefire has meant the end of artillery barrages and ground incursions, but not the end of fear. Families who returned to their villages after the November agreement now sleep in ground-floor rooms, keeping emergency bags packed.
Regional Implications
The pattern of these strikes matters beyond Lebanon's borders. They signal to other actors in the region that Israeli military operations will continue regardless of formal agreements, and that Israel interprets ceasefires as licenses for low-intensity warfare rather than genuine cessations of hostilities.
For Hezbollah, each strike represents a test of discipline. The organization has made a strategic calculation that restraint serves its long-term interests better than retaliation, allowing it to rebuild its capabilities while maintaining the moral high ground of ceasefire compliance. But that calculation depends on its rank-and-file accepting continued attacks without response, and on its support base in the south believing that patience will eventually be rewarded.
The Lebanese government, caught between its inability to defend its territory and its need to demonstrate sovereignty, issues statements condemning the violations while privately acknowledging its powerlessness. This is the compromise of weakness, the diplomacy of states that cannot enforce their will even within their own borders.
In this region, today's headline is yesterday's history repeating. The ceasefires come and go. The planes keep flying. And the people of southern Lebanon continue to live in the shadow of a peace agreement that exists everywhere except where they sleep.
