Wael Taleb
New Lines Magazine / June 24, 2026
The latest ceasefire with Israel was shaped not in Beirut, but by regional negotiations between Washington and Tehran. The first clause of a recent U.S.-Iran memorandum of understanding announced last week calls for an “immediate and permanent” end to military operations between the two countries and their allies on all fronts, including Lebanon. Days later, Israel and Hezbollah reportedly agreed to a ceasefire after months of escalating violence.
The impact was immediate. Israeli attacks on Lebanon declined sharply, offering respite to a country exhausted by war. Yet even as the violence subsided, few Lebanese appeared ready to describe the moment as an ending to the war.
The ceasefire is fragile, and Israeli troops remain deployed in parts of southern Lebanon. On Tuesday, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said those forces would remain in a security zone in southern Lebanon “as long as I am prime minister.” The same day, Lebanon’s Ministry of Public Health announced that an Israeli strike on a vehicle near Kfar Rouman in southern Lebanon killed two people.
For many residents of the south, the war appears quieter than it has in months, but it has not fully disappeared.
According to Lebanon’s Ministry of Public Health, 4,211 people have been killed and 12,173 wounded since the conflict escalated on March 2, when Hezbollah resumed rocket fire into Israel following the outbreak of the U.S.-Iran war. The escalation came after more than 15 months of Israeli strikes on Lebanon during which Hezbollah had refrained from responding. Southern communities that once formed the backbone of daily life in the south remain scarred by bombardment, displacement and loss.
Hezbollah Secretary-General Naim Qassem has portrayed the ceasefire as evidence that efforts to destroy the movement failed. Speaking ahead of Ashura commemorations, he described Hezbollah’s survival as a victory against what he called an American-Israeli effort to eliminate the resistance and its support base.
Among ordinary Lebanese, however, reactions are far more complicated.
For Mohammad, a resident of Baraachit in Bint Jbeil district, the current ceasefire feels different from previous attempts to halt the fighting. (Like others interviewed for this article, he asked that only his first name be used.)
“The outward appearance previously was that the war had stopped,” he said of earlier truces. “But security had been taken away.”
Like many residents who are now planning to return, after months of displacement, to the few unoccupied southern villages, Mohammad believes the latest agreement has provided a degree of stability that was previously absent. He credits Iran’s insistence that Lebanon be included in the broader regional understanding.
Others see the situation through a more political lens.
Abbas, who was displaced from Beirut’s southern suburbs and whose hometown in the south was largely destroyed during the war, says attitudes toward the ceasefire often mirror Lebanon’s internal divisions. Supporters of Hezbollah tend to view Iran as a deterrent that helped secure the reduction in violence. Opponents often see the agreement as another example of foreign powers shaping Lebanon’s future.
Yet despite the political disagreements, Abbas says many Lebanese share a common sense of exhaustion.
“A state of uncertainty is, as usual, a given,” he said. “Still, I believe it’s better than daily bombs and strikes. It puts whatever remains of the places we belong to and the things we love at peace, even if it eventually fails.”
For Celine, a 22-year-old from Khiam, the language of deterrence, victory and diplomacy feels distant from the reality her family continues to face.
“In a perfect world, the Lebanese government would be more than capable of keeping its people and land safe. I am not a fan of being under the mercy of another country, but when my own proves insufficient and completely moronic, it is somewhat comforting to know a country with sufficient power and influence can offer to protect our livelihoods.”
Her family lost two homes during the war. Her father lost his livelihood. Relatives were scattered across Lebanon after being displaced, relying on friends and extended family for shelter.
“My family was stripped of every shred of dignity they ever possessed,” she said.
Celine remains sceptical of any agreement that leaves Israeli troops inside Lebanese territory and many southern communities struggling to rebuild.
“Be it because of America, Israel, Iran, Hezbollah or the Lebanese government, every side of this equation has managed to make our lives a humiliation ritual,” she said. “Iran did what it could with the cards that it has, which, in retrospect, [given] the heavy escalations, can touch the baseline of ‘good,’ but it’s not enough. Not for me, not my neighbours, not any southerner. Every ceasefire with Israeli presence still existing in the south, still endangering our existence, is complete horseshit.”
Wael Taleb is a Beirut-based journalist covering politics, conflict and social change in Lebanon
