Lebanon today stands as a cautionary tale—a republic broken by its own contradictions, where diplomacy has too often meant indulgence and strength has too often been mistaken for arrogance. Once described as the “Switzerland of the East,” it has become a laboratory of paralysis, corruption, and fatigue. Each new envoy who lands in Beirut is greeted by the same cast of characters, the same choreography of smiles and dinners, and the same slow unraveling of promises. To succeed here requires not only intelligence and patience, but a taste for confrontation. And now, into this fractured landscape, comes Michel Issa.
On Tuesday, October 7, the U.S. Senate confirmed Michel Issa as the next American ambassador to Lebanon, ending months of partisan delay in Washington. Issa, a Lebanese-American businessman, has already drawn attention for his blunt testimony before the Senate Foreign Relations Committee, declaring that the disarmament of Hezbollah was “not an option but a necessity.” His arrival in Beirut marks the beginning of a new chapter in U.S.–Lebanon relations—one defined not by aid or appeasement, but by strength and accountability.
Issa’s nomination continued Trump’s habit of entrusting loyal professionals who deliver results—men like Jared Kushner, Tom Barrack, and Steve Witkoff—people who understand that diplomacy, at its core, is about leverage. Issa speaks the same language: numbers, networks, and negotiation. He knows that in business, as in geopolitics, fear is often the most reliable form of respect. President Trump himself has called Michel Issa “a warrior” and “a friend,” words he reserves for those he trusts to fight, not merely represent.
Issa understands that he’s not in Lebanon to befriend a political class that has bankrupted its own country. Instead, he represents the will of a president who rewards strength and despises weakness. His task is not to be liked but to be respected, obeyed, and, when necessary, feared. Lebanon is not a place where good intentions are rewarded. It is a land where political games are an art form, and where corruption hides behind smiles and protocol.
The Lebanese political class has mastered the craft of delay, deception, and dependence—promising reform to every envoy, minister, or banker who arrives, only to continue their business as usual once the plane departs. Lebanon’s culture too often mistakes charm for competence.
The March 14 Alliance, born from the 2005 Cedar Revolution, once embodied the hope of sovereignty and reform but ended in compromise, exhaustion, and the quiet return of the same men it claimed to replace. Each attempt to align with Washington has been sabotaged from within by greed and cowardice. To the extent Lebanon’s elite crave proximity to American power, they use it as a shield against their own accountability.
Issa will be effective only if he goes to Beirut not as a diplomat of compromise, but as a representative of consequence, where the ruling class’s “morals” are defined by political, financial, and personal power. When they fear they will lose access to U.S. dollars, banking networks, or visas, they suddenly discover a moral compass.
For decades, successive ambassadors have sought to “understand Lebanon,” only to be absorbed into its dysfunction. They hosted dialogues, issued statements, and funded programs, while the state collapsed under the weight of its own contradictions. Billions in aid have vanished into ministries run by thieves; reports and reforms have gathered dust; and the so-called friends of America have traded loyalty for survival.
For years, America has directly poured billions into Lebanon’s army, Internal Security Forces, General Security, judiciary, central bank, and every so-called reform program that was supposed to rescue the country, and that doesn’t count the endless flow of USAID slush funds or the Western NGOs that orbit the same corrupt ministries. Washington armed, trained, and financed an entire system that could not enforce a single law without Hezbollah’s permission. Every dollar has gone to prop up a structure that survives only because it feeds on foreign generosity. Issa, with Trump’s backing, finally has the power to end that cycle.
Like Trump, Issa’s strength is that he’s not a bureaucrat, but is a successful businessman who understands money, leverage, and real-world deals. The only thing that can bring him down is an inability to resist the manipulative flattery that Lebanon’s power brokers will heap upon him.
Issa can follow the path set by Deputy U.S. Special Envoy to the Middle East Morgan Ortagus or her replacement, Tom Barrack. Ortagus set clear boundaries and stuck to them, forcing Lebanon’s officials to change their behavior. Barrack was a more congenial man, and the same officials who had avoided confrontation returned to their old ways, weakening America’s role in Lebanon.
Barrack’s trajectory went from trying to work within the Lebanese political system to utter frustration. He discovered, as every envoy eventually does, that offering these people a carrot instead of a stick gets you nowhere. Their instinct is to exploit kindness and test weakness.
I believe Issa’s tenure will be successful if he avoids falling into the trap of “understanding Lebanon.” He must understand, instead, how Lebanon’s power brokers survived by manipulating Washington for decades. He must not be the next American ambassador who gets remembered for sympathy, not strategy.
The people of Lebanon deserve better. America’s true friends are not in Beirut’s political salons but among those who still believe in law, freedom, and the dignity of work. If Issa stands firm on these principles, he will make history. The United States is not entering a partnership—it is managing a liability. America’s duty is not to empathize with Lebanon’s failure but to prevent it from spreading.
Washington gains more by keeping Beirut at arm’s length than by chasing influence through the same recycled faces who call themselves “friends of America.” Issa should not waste his time entertaining political elites who have mastered the art of pretending loyalty while selling betrayal. Do not give them the pleasure of access; give them the pressure of accountability. In Lebanon, fear is the only currency that holds its value.
President Trump has once again shown courage in appointing a man of action, not talk. Now the mission depends on whether that courage will be matched in Beirut. Will the men there step up and accept what Trump and Issa are offering?
Ultimately, Lebanon does not need another diplomat who listens; it needs an ambassador who leads. The embassy in Beirut must once again become the symbol of American will—not a pavilion of polite conversation, but a fortress of consequence. If Issa succeeds in restoring that authority, his example will reach beyond Beirut. It will echo through every chancery in the Middle East, reminding allies and adversaries alike that the United States, under President Trump, rewards discipline, not diplomacy for its own sake.
And if he fails—if he slips into the old habits of courtesy, compromise, and dinners—the result will be predictable. The same men who toasted him on arrival will turn on him by the time he leaves. The same newspapers that praise him for “understanding Lebanon” will mock him as “another disappointed American.” But if he stands firm—if he carries the mandate of a president who called him “a warrior and a friend,” and acts as one—he will leave behind something no ambassador in decades has achieved: fear, respect, and results.
Lebanon has always been a mirror that reflects the strength or weakness of those who deal with it. Michel Issa now faces that mirror. What it shows will depend on how he chooses to act: as a guest in the house of corruption, or as the representative of a power that does not compromise with failure.
Either way, history is waiting.
Images courtesy of Michael Issa.