Lebanese President Joseph Aoun has declared that the Lebanese Army must become "the sole entity responsible for security" in the country's south, marking an attempt to assert state sovereignty over a region long dominated by Hezbollah's military presence.
"The Lebanese people suffered greatly when the army was absent from the south, and it is time for it to return and assume its full responsibilities," Aoun stated in remarks delivered in both English and Arabic. "Everyone must rally around it and the security forces, otherwise the loss will affect everyone."
The statement represents the clearest assertion yet of state authority over southern Lebanon following the devastating war between Israel and Hezbollah that reshaped the region's security landscape. For decades, Hezbollah has maintained de facto control over the south, operating independently of the Lebanese Armed Forces and justifying its arsenal as necessary to defend against Israel.
In this region, today's headline is yesterday's history repeating.
Aoun's declaration comes as Lebanon navigates a fragile ceasefire and Israel maintains control over a buffer zone extending into Lebanese territory. The question is whether Aoun's words can translate into reality on the ground—whether the Lebanese Army, long underfunded and politically constrained, can genuinely displace Hezbollah's entrenched military infrastructure.
The Lebanese Army numbers approximately 80,000 troops, but has historically avoided confrontation with Hezbollah, which commands far superior weaponry and operates as a parallel military force. Previous attempts to extend state authority over Hezbollah-controlled areas have ended in political deadlock or worse.
Regional analysts express skepticism about Aoun's ability to implement exclusive army control in the south. "This is not just about deploying troops," said one Beirut-based security expert who requested anonymity due to the sensitivity of discussing Hezbollah. "It's about whether the state can enforce a monopoly on the use of force against a militia that is more powerful than the army itself and enjoys substantial popular support in Shia communities."
The political context matters. Aoun, a former army commander, was elected president in 2024 after years of political paralysis that left Lebanon without a head of state. His elevation to the presidency was itself the product of delicate sectarian bargaining in which Hezbollah played a decisive role.
Yet the recent war has altered the balance of power. Israel's military campaign decimated much of Hezbollah's leadership and degraded its military capabilities. The group, while still formidable, is weaker than at any point in decades. This creates a narrow window for the Lebanese state to reassert authority—if it has the political will and international backing.
The international community, particularly the United States and France, has long advocated for Lebanese state institutions to control the south in accordance with UN Security Council Resolution 1701, which ended the 2006 war between Israel and Hezbollah. That resolution was never fully implemented, in large part because Hezbollah refused to disarm and the Lebanese government lacked the capacity to compel it.
Aoun's statement may signal a willingness to finally implement 1701, but it arrives amid immense challenges. The Lebanese state is bankrupt, its institutions hollowed out by years of corruption and economic collapse. The army itself depends on international assistance for basic supplies. Asking it to take on Hezbollah without significant external support is asking it to fail.
There is also the question of Israel's intentions. Israel has made clear it will not tolerate Hezbollah's rearmament in the south and has threatened to resume military operations if the group rebuilds its infrastructure. If the Lebanese Army genuinely assumes control and prevents Hezbollah's return, it could de-escalate tensions. But if the army proves unable or unwilling to enforce state authority, Israel may act unilaterally.
For Lebanese citizens in the south, the question is existential. Hundreds of thousands remain displaced, unable to return to villages under Israeli occupation or destroyed in the fighting. They want security, but also the right to return home. Whether the Lebanese Army can provide that security without triggering another cycle of violence remains deeply uncertain.
What Aoun has articulated is a vision of Lebanese sovereignty—the idea that the state, not a militia, should control the country's territory and borders. It is a vision that commands broad support among Lebanese who are exhausted by war and sectarian division. But visions and reality are not the same thing.
In Lebanon, as elsewhere in the region, the gap between what leaders say and what they can deliver is often vast. Aoun has declared the army will be the sole security authority in the south. Now comes the hard part: making it so.
