A ceasefire signed in June was meant to return southern Lebanon to something resembling peace, but the agreement has instead become a frame around continuing destruction. On Thursday, Israeli strikes wounded at least eight people and the military issued its first forced evacuation order in weeks, targeting al-Mansouri—a town outside even Israel's claimed occupied territory. While negotiators in Rome speak of pilot zones and phased withdrawals, residents watch their homes demolished and their farmland burned, left to wonder whether the agreement was ever meant to protect them at all. The distan
Israel resumes strikes in southern Lebanon as ceasefire collapses, residents despair
Israel has no red lines—they target where they want
Why would Israel issue an evacuation order for a town outside its claimed occupation zone?
Because the ceasefire agreement has no teeth. It's a framework on paper while the military operates on the ground with no real constraints. Al-Mansouri is a test case—if they can order people out of a town they don't officially control, they can order people out of anywhere.
The negotiations in Rome—are those talks actually happening, or is this theater?
They're happening, but disconnected from reality. Officials discuss pilot zones and disarmament while bulldozers are demolishing homes. Hezbollah isn't even at the table. The Lebanese government is negotiating something that has no enforcement mechanism.
What does a resident like Abu Rached actually want to happen?
He wants his government to show up. Not in Rome—on the ground. He wants the army to be able to stay in al-Mansouri. He wants someone to answer for the destruction. Right now he's watching farmland burn and asking where his officials are.
Is there any indication this will stop?
Not from what residents are seeing. The strikes resumed after a few months of relative calm. The pattern suggests the ceasefire was always temporary, a pause rather than an end. The framework depends on Israeli withdrawal and Hezbollah disarmament—neither of which is happening.
What about the people still displaced?
They're waiting at the edges of their towns for permission to go home. Some have been waiting for months. Now they're waiting again, with less faith that waiting will change anything.
O Pulso
- Israeli forces struck al-Mansouri on Thursday, wounding at least eight people and issuing the first forced displacement order in weeks—shattering a fragile sense of relative calm that had allowed some residents to begin hoping the worst was behind them.
- The evacuation order covered a town outside Israel's own stated zone of occupation, and families who had already fled gathered at the edges of al-Mansouri with no clear word on when—or whether—it would be safe to return.
- From those waiting points, residents watched systematic erasure unfold: homes demolished, olive groves set ablaze, farmland destroyed in what critics are increasingly describing not as tactical warfare but as deliberate ethnic cleansing.
- Lebanese government officials were absent from the scene while their negotiators in Rome discussed frameworks and pilot zones, drawing open fury from residents who asked where their state had gone.
- The Rome talks hinge on Israeli withdrawal from pilot zones and Hezbollah disarmament, but Hezbollah has rejected the deal outright and no meaningful Israeli pullback has occurred, leaving the framework suspended between paper and a ground that no longer resembles it.
A ceasefire signed in June was meant to return southern Lebanon to something resembling peace, but the agreement has instead become a frame around continuing destruction. On Thursday, Israeli strikes wounded at least eight people and the military issued its first forced evacuation order in weeks, targeting al-Mansouri—a town outside even Israel's claimed occupied territory. While negotiators in Rome speak of pilot zones and phased withdrawals, residents watch their homes demolished and their farmland burned, left to wonder whether the agreement was ever meant to protect them at all. The distance between the language of diplomacy and the reality on the ground has become, for those living it, its own form of violence.
The ceasefire signed in June was supposed to bring relief to southern Lebanon. Instead, it has become a cover for continued destruction—offering just enough quiet for people to hope before the strikes resumed.
On Thursday, Israeli forces wounded at least eight people across the region and issued a forced evacuation order for al-Mansouri, the first such directive in weeks. The order was striking in its geography: al-Mansouri lies outside the territory Israel claims to occupy. Yousef Shehemi, mayor of neighboring Majdal Zoun, told journalists that Israel operates without boundaries, striking where it chooses, honoring the ceasefire in no meaningful sense. Displaced families gathered at the town's edges and waited for word that never came.
What they witnessed from those gathering points was methodical erasure. Homes were demolished. Fires were set to farmland and olive groves. The destruction accumulated day after day while Lebanese officials remained absent. Resident Abu Rached gave voice to the spreading frustration: government negotiators in Rome were speaking of frameworks and pilot zones while the ground beneath those words was being burned away.
The Rome talks had resumed earlier in the week, built around a framework requiring Israeli withdrawal from designated pilot zones once Hezbollah disarmed and the Lebanese army moved in. In theory, this would allow displaced families to return. In practice, no significant Israeli withdrawal had taken place, and Hezbollah—excluded from the negotiations—had publicly rejected the deal.
The recent escalation followed the killing of two Israeli soldiers by an explosive device, though it remained unclear whether it had been planted before or after the ceasefire took effect. The Israeli response was swift and broad. In Burj Shemali, further north, a residential home was struck for the first time since June. Resident Almaza Hazim described the sequence: a neighbor's scream, people running to help, then a second strike that destroyed the house entirely.
Critics have begun calling the campaign ethnic cleansing. The ceasefire, it has become clear, never truly stopped the war. It only changed its rhythm—long enough for people to believe the worst might be over.
The ceasefire that was supposed to bring relief to southern Lebanon has fractured into something worse than silence—it has become a cover for continued destruction. On Thursday, Israeli strikes wounded at least eight people across the region, and the military issued its first forced evacuation order in weeks, directing residents of al-Mansouri to leave their homes. For families already displaced by months of conflict, the order felt like confirmation of what they had begun to suspect: the agreement signed in June was never meant to protect them.
Al-Mansouri sits outside the territory Israel claims to occupy, yet the evacuation order came anyway. Yousef Shehemi, mayor of the neighboring town of Majdal Zoun, put it plainly to journalists: Israel operates without boundaries. They strike where they choose. They have not honored the ceasefire in any meaningful sense. On Thursday afternoon, families who had fled the town gathered at its edges, waiting for word that it was safe to return—a wait that stretched on with no clear answer.
What residents witnessed from those gathering points was systematic erasure. Israeli forces demolished homes and set fires to farmland. Olive groves burned. The destruction accumulated visibly, day after day, while Lebanese officials remained absent from the scene. Abu Rached, a resident of Majdal Zoun, voiced the frustration that was spreading through the region: the army could not even maintain a presence in al-Mansouri anymore, yet the government negotiators in Rome spoke of frameworks and pilot zones as though the ground beneath those words still existed. Where were the officials? he asked. What were they doing?
The negotiations themselves had resumed earlier in the week in Rome, where Lebanese and Israeli representatives discussed a framework meant to secure Israeli withdrawal once Hezbollah disarmed. The agreement outlined "pilot zones"—areas Israel would vacate so the Lebanese army could move in and ensure no weapons remained outside state control. In theory, this would allow displaced families to return home. In practice, no significant Israeli withdrawal had occurred. Hezbollah, which was not part of the talks, had publicly rejected the deal. The framework existed on paper while the military campaign continued on the ground.
The recent escalation began after an explosive device killed two Israeli soldiers earlier in the week. It remained unclear whether the device had been planted before or after the ceasefire took effect. Hezbollah did not claim responsibility. The Israeli response, however, was immediate and widespread. Strikes concentrated on al-Mansouri but spread beyond it. In Burj Shemali, further north, a residential home was hit—the first attack on that town since June. Almaza Hazim, a resident, described the sequence of terror: a neighbor screaming from the blast, residents running to help, injuries mounting, then another strike destroying the house entirely.
Critics have begun describing the military campaign as ethnic cleansing. The systematic nature of the destruction—the demolitions, the fires set to agricultural land, the forced evacuations—suggested something more deliberate than tactical strikes. Yet the region had experienced relative quiet over recent months, enough that some residents had begun to believe the worst might be over. That belief evaporated this week. The ceasefire, it became clear, had never truly stopped the war. It had only changed its rhythm, allowing just enough time for people to hope before the strikes resumed.
Citações Notáveis
Mansouri is not part of Israel's occupation zone. But Israel has no red lines—they target where they want. They have not respected any ceasefire.— Yousef Shehemi, mayor of Majdal Zoun
Can't you see what they did to south Lebanon? They're destroying it, displacing people—even the army can't stay in al-Mansouri. Where are the officials?— Abu Rached, resident of Majdal Zoun