On August 31, 2025, Lebanon’s political landscape was thrust into the international spotlight as Parliament Speaker Nabih Berri, a longtime ally of Hezbollah and leader of the Amal Movement, called for a national dialogue on the future of Hezbollah’s weapons. This move came just days before the Lebanese government was set to review a military plan—drafted under heavy US pressure—to disarm the powerful Iran-backed group by the end of the year. The timing and tone of Berri’s speech underscored the deep divisions and high stakes surrounding Lebanon’s most contentious security issue since the end of the devastating 2024 war with Israel.
Speaking at a ceremony commemorating the 1978 disappearance of Shiite cleric Musa al-Sadr, Berri struck a conciliatory yet defiant note. “We are open to discussing the fate of these weapons, which we Lebanese see as honorable, within the framework of a calm and consensual dialogue,” Berri declared, according to The Associated Press. He emphasized that any discussion should be peaceful and consensual, aligning with the policies of President Joseph Aoun and Prime Minister Nawaf Salam. Berri’s words echoed across Beirut and beyond, signaling both a willingness to engage and a resistance to external pressure—especially from Washington.
The roots of this current standoff stretch back to the aftermath of the 2024 war, a conflict that left Lebanon battered and Hezbollah significantly weakened. According to Anadolu, Israel’s military offensive, launched in October 2023 and escalating to full-scale war by September 2024, killed more than 4,000 people and injured around 17,000. The November ceasefire agreement that followed was supposed to bring stability, mandating Hezbollah’s withdrawal from areas south of the Litani River—roughly 30 kilometers from the Israeli border—in exchange for increased Lebanese army and UN peacekeeper presence. In return, Israel was to withdraw from southern Lebanon by January 26, 2025, though that deadline slipped to February 18, with Israeli forces maintaining control of five strategic border outposts.
This fragile truce, however, has done little to quell violence. Despite the ceasefire, Israeli strikes in southern Lebanon have become a near-daily occurrence. On August 31, the Israeli army carried out airstrikes targeting Hezbollah sites, causing significant damage and, according to Lebanon’s National News Agency, killing one man in a later attack. Berri did not mince words on this point, accusing Israel of expanding its occupation and preventing residents of more than 30 Lebanese towns from returning home. “Israel has expanded its occupation of Lebanese land, barring residents of more than 30 towns from returning to their homes,” Berri stated, as reported by Anadolu.
The political battle over Hezbollah’s weapons intensified in early August, when Lebanon’s cabinet, under mounting US pressure, tasked the army with drafting a plan to place all weapons—Hezbollah’s included—under state control by the end of 2025. The plan, based on a proposal by US envoy Tom Barrack, linked Hezbollah’s disarmament to Israel’s withdrawal from the remaining border outposts and the release of much-needed reconstruction funds. President Joseph Aoun and Prime Minister Nawaf Salam backed the initiative, seeing it as a pathway toward state sovereignty and international support.
Yet, for Hezbollah and its allies, the government’s decision was nothing short of a provocation. The group, founded and funded by Iran, denounced the move as a “grave sin” and vowed to resist. Its leader, Sheikh Naim Qassem, declared that Hezbollah would not even discuss disarmament until Israel withdrew from the five occupied hilltops and ceased its strikes on Lebanese territory. “Hezbollah leader Naim Qassem condemned the Lebanese government’s plan to disarm the terror organization and vowed that Hezbollah would keep its arms,” reported The Associated Press.
The backlash was immediate and dramatic. Shiite ministers—including those from Hezbollah’s political wing and Berri’s Amal Movement—walked out of the latest cabinet session in protest, a move that exposed the deep rifts within Lebanon’s government. As the army’s plan was set to be presented to ministers on September 5, the political temperature in Beirut continued to rise.
Berri’s criticism of the US-backed proposal was pointed and unambiguous. “What is being proposed in the American document… looks like an alternative to the November ceasefire agreement,” he said, according to AFP. He argued that the American plan “goes beyond the principle of restricting weapons,” suggesting it undermines Lebanese sovereignty and the delicate balance achieved by last year’s truce. Berri further insisted that any solution must be rooted in Lebanon’s constitution and national consensus, not imposed from abroad.
For its part, the United States has made clear that Israel will not withdraw from the contested outposts until it sees concrete steps toward Hezbollah’s disarmament. As The Times of Israel reported, US officials told Lebanese authorities not to expect any Israeli moves before a disarmament plan is in effect. This linkage has fueled suspicions among Hezbollah’s supporters, who see the US proposal as a means to pressure the group without sufficient guarantees for Lebanese sovereignty or reconstruction aid.
Adding to the complexity, Hezbollah claims it has already complied with the ceasefire by pulling back from the south, while Israel accuses the group of trying to rebuild its military capacity in the area. These conflicting narratives have left ordinary Lebanese caught in the crossfire—literally and politically. Many residents of southern Lebanon remain displaced, unable to return to their towns due to ongoing Israeli military presence and sporadic violence.
The broader regional context cannot be ignored. Hezbollah’s arsenal and its relationship with Iran have long been a thorn in the side of both Israel and the United States. For Washington, the disarmament of Hezbollah is seen as a necessary step for Lebanon’s stability and its reintegration into the international community. For many Lebanese, however, Hezbollah’s weapons are viewed as both a source of national pride and a bitter point of contention, especially in the wake of the devastating 2024 war.
As Lebanon’s ministers prepared to reconvene and the army’s plan awaited scrutiny, the stakes could hardly be higher. Will dialogue prevail over confrontation? Can Lebanon chart a path that satisfies both international demands and domestic realities? Only time will tell, but for now, Berri’s call for dialogue—however fraught—offers a glimmer of hope amid a landscape scarred by war and political paralysis.
The coming weeks promise to be decisive for Lebanon’s future, as leaders grapple with questions of sovereignty, security, and the ever-present shadow of war. The world will be watching closely, but for many Lebanese, the outcome will determine not just the fate of Hezbollah’s weapons, but the very nature of their country’s independence and peace.