When Mountains Speak of Surrender: How a Beirut Icon Became a Symbol of State Capitulation
The projection of rival political figures onto Lebanon’s iconic Raouché Rock has exposed a deeper truth about Beirut’s inability to assert sovereignty over its own symbols—and its own future.
The Battle for Beirut’s Soul
The Raouché Rock, standing sentinel over Beirut’s Mediterranean coastline, has long served as more than just a geological marvel—it represents Lebanon’s endurance through centuries of conquest and conflict. But when images of Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah appeared alongside those of assassinated Prime Minister Rafik Hariri on this natural monument, Lebanese journalist Nadim Koteich saw something more troubling than mere political theater. He witnessed what he describes as the Lebanese state’s complete capitulation to Hezbollah’s dominance.
This visual juxtaposition carries profound symbolic weight. Hariri, who was killed in a 2005 bombing that a UN tribunal later linked to Hezbollah operatives, represents Lebanon’s aspirations for sovereignty and economic revival. Nasrallah, meanwhile, leads an armed organization that maintains its own military infrastructure parallel to—and often superseding—the Lebanese state. That these two figures could share space on Lebanon’s most recognizable landmark speaks to a political reality where the state cannot even control its own iconography.
The Paralysis of Lebanese Institutions
Koteich’s criticism extends beyond symbolic concerns to institutional failures, particularly targeting the Lebanese Armed Forces (LAF). Once viewed as a potential unifying force in a sectarian society, the military now finds itself unable or unwilling to challenge Hezbollah’s parallel structures. This impotence isn’t merely tactical—it reflects a broader institutional paralysis where state organs have effectively ceded sovereignty to a non-state actor that answers to foreign powers.
The projection incident reveals how public space in Lebanon has become contested territory where competing narratives of legitimacy play out. While the Lebanese government struggles to provide basic services amid economic collapse, Hezbollah continues to project power through both its weapons and its symbols. This duality—where the state exists nominally while real power lies elsewhere—has transformed Lebanon into what some analysts call a “hybrid sovereignty” model, where traditional notions of state authority no longer apply.
Beyond Symbolism: The Cost of Contested Sovereignty
The implications extend far beyond hurt national pride. Lebanon’s inability to assert control over its symbols mirrors its failure to control its borders, its foreign policy, and ultimately its destiny. International investors and donors increasingly view Lebanon not as a sovereign state but as a territory where multiple authorities compete for influence. This perception has accelerated capital flight, deepened the economic crisis, and left ordinary Lebanese caught between a state that cannot provide and a militia that will not disarm.
As Lebanon approaches another crossroads with potential regional escalations and internal political deadlock, the Raouché Rock projection serves as a stark reminder of the country’s fundamental challenge: Can a state survive when it cannot even claim ownership over its most basic symbols? Or has Lebanon already crossed the threshold from weak state to failed state, where sovereignty exists only in name while real power flows through alternate channels that answer to no one but themselves?
