- 09:30
Sometimes symbolism says it all. On Monday, Syrian President Ahmad al-Sharaa will walk through the doors of the White House, a sight that would have seemed unthinkable a year ago. The world, it seems, has a soft spot for spectacular reinventions. Yesterday’s pariah has become today’s partner.
Al-Sharaa, once a wanted man with a price on his head, has turned his controversial past into a diplomatic calling card. His message now is simple: stability, regional reintegration, and that most seductive promise of all—security.
That was enough to open the floodgates. Sanctions on Damascus have been lifted. Investors are stampeding in. In just six months, $28 billion has poured into the Syrian capital, mostly from the Gulf. Little Lebanon watches from the sidelines, its pride bruised, its envy barely concealed.
The irony is almost too rich: the country once crippled by embargo is now the region’s new place to be. Western embassies are reopening, and foreign firms are signing deals by the dozen. Al-Sharaa, well-groomed in a three-piece suit, discusses regional security with Israel. His ministers meet their Israeli counterparts without being branded traitors—something that, in Lebanon, would still be unthinkable.
Security agreements between the two countries are already on the table. The U.S. military is even preparing to set up an air base near Damascus—an idea once confined to the realm of fantasy, now quietly taking shape.
Meanwhile, Lebanon, the so-called Switzerland of the East, flounders. Its economy is stagnant. Its leaders tiptoe around an armed militia before making decisions. Its ports limp along, and its brightest minds are packing up and leaving.
Where Syria rebuilds, Lebanon unravels. Where Damascus draws investment, Beirut pleads for scraps. Where Syrian ministers ink deals, Lebanese leaders stall in endless debate about “reforms” and “disarmament,” and the country quietly runs out of breath.
At the heart of this paralysis lies Hezbollah, obstinate, unyielding, and still tethered to Tehran’s agenda, unmoved by domestic urgency.
The absurdity deepens. Soon, we may see Lebanese workers crossing into Syria in search of jobs, selling trinkets in Damascus, and peddling homemade pastries to newly prosperous Syrians. You can almost imagine Syrians hiring Lebanese concierges, cheaper than their own.
The brain drain will be followed by a labor drain.
So yes, the Switzerland of the East has packed up and moved. It’s crossed the Anti-Lebanon mountains and raised its flag to the east. And Lebanon, once a model and a refuge, stands at the platform—elegant, bitter, and tragically still—as the train whistles past.
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