Zawtar al-Gharbiya has become a symbol of a fragile process. The Lebanese army’s arrival on June 28 marked the first steps toward a U.S.-brokered agreement aimed at securing a gradual Israeli withdrawal and ensuring Hezbollah does not return. Families waited outside the town, some for hours under the sun, hoping to reclaim their homes after months of displacement. But the army delayed returns until unexploded ordnance was cleared, and a landmine explosion wounded two Red Cross workers while they searched for bodies.
Prime Minister Nawaf Salam arrived the following morning. He planted the Lebanese flag next to a flattened building, making a political gesture to the world. 'What we are seeing today is just the beginning,' he said. But for families gathered outside, his message fell flat. 'This is just one town,' said one man. 'Israel occupies dozens more.' His frustration reflects a broader unease: many in southern Lebanon see the government as having ceded too much to Israel in return for too little.
The absence of trust
For decades, the Lebanese state has been absent in the south. Now, as the army deploys, it is expected to both secure and suppress. Residents like Rukaya Maatouk, who live in the eastern part of Zawtar al-Gharbiya, describe the return of Israeli forces in nearby areas as a constant threat. 'The solution is for the Israeli army to leave south Lebanon altogether,' she said. 'If diplomacy doesn’t work, our men will return.' This sentiment is not uncommon, especially among those who see Israel as an occupying force and the Lebanese government as complicit in its continued presence.
Balancing power and politics
The agreement signed in Washington on June 26 has drawn sharp divides. President Joseph Aoun has called it the 'best option available,' but admits it falls short of ideals. 'Give me the alternative,' he said. His government is constrained by reality: Lebanon has limited leverage. It is not the army that will force Israel to retreat, but the U.S., which has brokered the deal and is expected to apply pressure. Yet Hezbollah and its supporters remain defiant. Ahsan Yaghi, a resident of the town, said, 'We don’t support directly talking to Israel. We don’t accept peace with Israel.'
Hezbollah’s presence is not just a military issue but a political one. Its military wing is illegal under Lebanese law, and the army is tasked with preventing its return. But the army itself has been reluctant to take direct action, and its commander, General Rodolphe Haykal, did not accompany the prime minister on his visit. This omission was not lost on those watching. Haykal’s eventual visit may be more than symbolic—it may be political calculus.