Hezbollah’s Fatal Embrace: The Cost of Choosing Enemies Over Allies

There is a tragic inevitability to Hezbollah’s recent unraveling in Lebanon — a story that is not merely about military decline, but about a catastrophic political miscalculation and a missed opportunity of historic proportions. For decades, Hezbollah stood as “the invincible force” in Lebanon, morphing over time into a regional actor — fighting in Syria alongside the regime of former President Bashar al-Assad, and later with Hamas during the “Al-Aqsa Flood.” But today, as the so-called "Axis of Resistance" crumbles, the party finds itself exhausted, its military infrastructure shattered, its political alliances fractured, and its base mired in frustration.

How did it come to this?

The answer lies not solely in Israeli and Western pressure, nor in the shifting geopolitics of the region. The root cause is far more damning: Hezbollah chose, fatally, to ally with its adversaries — thereby alienating those who could have been its natural allies. In doing so, it lost the very ground it had once stood upon with certainty.

The Illusion of Strategic Alliances

Over the past two decades, Hezbollah forged political partnerships with major players in Lebanon’s power game — notably the Free Patriotic Movement (FPM) led by Michel Aoun and now his son-in-law, Gebran Bassil, and Sleiman Frangieh, head of the Marada Movement and long-time ally of the Assad regime. The 2006 memorandum of understanding with Aoun’s Christian bloc was hailed as a masterstroke — a symbol of cross-sectarian unity in a deeply divided country.

But it was always a marriage of convenience, never one of ideology. Aoun secured the presidency in 2016; Hezbollah, in turn, gained political cover for its weapons — though both sides denied such quid pro quo. The cost was immense. By embracing the FPM and the broader March 8 coalition, Hezbollah alienated reformists, independents, and moderate Sunnis and Christians who might have otherwise joined a sovereign and reformist project. Rather than lead reform, Hezbollah came to be seen as a pillar of Lebanon’s decaying political system.

When the economy collapsed in 2019, cracks began to show in its alliance with Bassil’s bloc, amid accusations that Hezbollah was obstructing state-building and turning a blind eye to corruption. Eventually, the alliance faltered. Hezbollah’s base blames Bassil for abandoning the partnership, a move seen as a bid to curry favor with the Americans who sanctioned him under the Magnitsky Act in 2020 for alleged corruption.

As for Frangieh, it’s a different story altogether. Hezbollah — and its Shiite ally Amal — fought tooth and nail to install him as president. The late Hassan Nasrallah was accused of paralyzing the electoral process for Frangieh’s sake, once calling him "one of my eyes." Empowered by Hezbollah’s support, Frangieh twice declared during the 2023–2024 war that the Axis of Resistance’s enemies should prepare for defeat — hinting at an imminent regional transformation and his own ascension to the presidency.

But the winds of war did not blow in his favor. Assad’s regime fell shortly after Lebanon signed a ceasefire agreement with Israel at the end of 2024 — an accord many labeled "humiliating." Frangieh, once Hezbollah’s most loyal ally, turned against it, calling openly for the disarmament of the party — a phrase that cuts deep among Hezbollah’s followers. His son, MP Tony Frangieh, went further, blaming Hezbollah’s October 8 war in support of Gaza for "bringing calamity" to Lebanon, and instead advocated for “technological resistance.”

And so Hezbollah — by its own hand — walked into a trap. Isolated politically, weakened internally, and forced to share power in a government many now call “pro-American,” the party is burdened with a political curse: its alliance with the very forces that now work to dismantle its legitimacy.

Creating Enemies for Free

The October 17, 2019 uprising was a pivotal moment in modern Lebanese history. Citizens across sects and regions rose up against a political class that had plundered the nation. Hezbollah faced a choice: stand with the people, or stand with the system. It chose the latter.

The late Nasrallah initially called for protesters to retreat. Soon after, Hezbollah supporters were seen intimidating demonstrators — a chilling moment that confirmed the party had chosen power over principle.

This was not just a public relations failure. It was a strategic blunder of the highest order. By distancing itself from the people and resisting reform, Hezbollah stood against the very Lebanese it claimed to protect. Its legitimacy, once rooted in resistance to Israeli occupation, was eroded. It became, in the eyes of many, just another protector of a corrupt sectarian regime.

The Syrian Quagmire

Regionally, Hezbollah’s greatest mistake may have been its intervention in Syria. In 2013, it sent thousands of fighters to defend Bashar al-Assad’s regime. What had been a Lebanese resistance movement became, in the eyes of many, an extension of Iran’s regional ambitions — a guardian of the Tehran-to-Beirut corridor.

The fallout was disastrous. The intervention deepened sectarian rifts, alienated Lebanese and Arab Sunnis, and exposed Hezbollah’s military secrets to Israel. Worse still, it failed to stabilize Assad’s crumbling regime, which proved more invested in looting and killing its own people than preserving Lebanese lives.

This intervention, paired with Hezbollah’s increasingly sectarian rhetoric, drove a wedge between the party and Lebanon’s Sunnis — once considered potential ideological allies. Where Hezbollah was once hailed across the Arab world as a symbol of dignity and resistance — its leader’s portraits hung in homes after the 2006 war — it became a partisan force, seen as selective in the revolutions it supported and complicit in the suppression of others.

That shift weakened Sunni–Shia solidarity and pushed many Sunnis away — socially and politically. The result: a dramatic weakening of Hezbollah’s domestic and regional standing, contributing to its current isolation.

With Assad’s downfall in late 2024, Hezbollah suffered a severe blow. It lost its primary land corridor for weapons and funding — and a pivotal political ally. Now, the party stands orphaned in the region, especially as Iran’s regime struggles to weather relentless Israeli strikes.

A Chance for Renewal

And yet, not all is lost. Hezbollah still has an opportunity to rebuild its image and regain some of its lost legitimacy — particularly by reaching out to Lebanon’s Sunni community, from which it has grown increasingly distant since its Syrian intervention.

But this requires more than rhetoric. It demands a bold, public reckoning with its past — an acknowledgment of its mistakes both at home and abroad. Apology, far from being a weakness, is the first step toward restoring trust and rebuilding relationships with Lebanon’s fractured social and political fabric.

The party must also shift its discourse, shedding sectarian narratives that have fueled division. By adopting a more inclusive and pragmatic approach, Hezbollah could begin forging new alliances and reclaiming its role as a truly national movement — one that speaks for all Lebanese, not just its loyal base.

History Will Judge

History will not judge Hezbollah solely by the wars it fought or the victories it claimed — but also by the critical moments it squandered, the turning points it failed to seize.

In allying with former enemies and turning away potential partners, the party lost its most precious asset: the trust of the Lebanese people — and with it, the trust of the Arab Sunnis who once saw it as a beacon of resistance and dignity.

This loss of trust was not a mere political setback — it was a rupture in Hezbollah’s very legitimacy. A party once seen as a dominant, almost untouchable force now faces a future laced with uncertainty and internal division.

Hezbollah’s story is no longer just a tale of strength or survival. It has become a cautionary narrative — a warning to any movement that confuses power with legitimacy, and believes that military might alone is enough to secure enduring influence.

Because in the end, no weapon is stronger than the will of the people. And no project, no matter how well-armed, can survive without the bedrock of popular legitimacy.