In Lebanon, Few See Israel's Election Changing the War Next Door

Hadi Nasrallah now earns his living from a pushcart selling fresh orange juice, one of the few possessions he has left. The Khiam resident lost his home to Israeli bombardment, and his village sits among dozens of communities across southern Lebanon that remain under Israeli occupation. In a few weeks, Israeli voters will go to the polls to choose a new government, but Nasrallah is not counting on the outcome to alter his life.

Whoever wins, he believes, will maintain the same destructive military approach toward Lebanon. His skepticism is widely shared across southern Lebanon, where three years of conflict have hardened the conviction that Israeli policy toward its northern neighbor rests on territorial ambition rather than security concerns. Nasrallah described the rhetoric about security as a cover for deeper intentions, saying Israel's leaders will not withdraw from southern Lebanon regardless of who forms the next government.

That view is grounded in the recent past. Under Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, what had been intermittent exchanges of fire between the Israeli military and Hezbollah escalated into a sustained war. Israel insists its operations target Hezbollah alone, yet its strikes have hit civilian areas extensively. According to figures cited in the reporting, at least 8,920 people have been killed and 30,595 wounded since October 2023. Roughly 6 percent of Lebanese territory, all of it along the border with Israel, remains occupied.

Netanyahu is now campaigning for his political survival, but he is not the only Israeli figure backing military operations beyond the country's borders. His principal challenger, Gadi Eisenkot, who leads the Yashar party and previously served as army chief of staff, has also cultivated a security-first image. Eisenkot's reputation in Lebanon rests partly on the so-called Dahiyeh Doctrine, formulated during the 2006 war with Hezbollah. That approach calls for overwhelming force, including against civilian infrastructure, as a means of deterrence — a strategy that has resurfaced in Israel's recent campaigns, most visibly in the heavy aerial bombardment of Beirut's southern suburbs.

Like Netanyahu, Eisenkot argues for Israeli military freedom of action. He has criticized the prime minister for yielding to American pressure and halting operations in Beirut, noting that the Lebanese capital has not been struck in a major way since April. He also contends that Israel's military should be free to target Hezbollah anywhere in Lebanon. At the same time, he has accused Netanyahu of conducting the war blindly, arrogantly and irresponsibly, asserting that military force has been used without achievable political objectives or a sustainable diplomatic path.

Despite those differences in tone and emphasis, the two men's stated aims converge: a demilitarized southern Lebanon, the disarmament of Hezbollah, and long-term security for residents of northern Israel. For Marcella Nasreddine, who lives in Beirut's southern suburbs, that convergence reflects a longer continuity. She told Al Jazeera that the policy has remained unchanged since 1948 — destroy and control — and said Israel wants to control more territory. Her observation underscores a broader conviction among Lebanese that elections in Israel reorder personalities rather than policy.

Concerns extend beyond Lebanon's borders. In southern Syria, anxiety is growing over Israel's military push into hundreds of square kilometers of Syrian land. Israel's current leadership has signaled that its forces are not leaving, and Eisenkot does not appear inclined to rush a withdrawal. Instead, he seems to intend to use the occupation as leverage against the new Syrian government. That prospect worries people on both sides of the Lebanon-Syria border, who fear the upcoming Israeli election could worsen their situation rather than improve it.

Ali Jarmak, a resident of the southern city of Nabatieh, suggested that attention should focus on the period before the vote rather than on who ultimately leads Israel. He pointed out that Netanyahu is not leading in the polls and warned that the prime minister might escalate the war in Lebanon to attract more votes. Such a calculation would carry immediate consequences for communities already enduring displacement, destruction and occupation.

Diplomacy has already stalled. No negotiations have taken place between Israeli and Lebanese officials since early August after Netanyahu delayed the diplomatic track with the Lebanese government. Israel is also refusing to carry out further withdrawals from Lebanon until Hezbollah fully disarms. Hezbollah, for its part, has rejected disarmament and threatened to confront any attempt by the Lebanese government to strip it of its weapons.

That standoff leaves southern Lebanon in a fragile limbo. Residents who have lost homes and livelihoods see little prospect that the October vote will break the deadlock or bring Israeli forces out. The Dahiyeh Doctrine and the shared security objectives of Israel's leading candidates suggest to many Lebanese that the war's underlying logic will survive any change of government. For people like Nasrallah, the pushcart and the ruins of Khiam are reminders that elections in Israel have yet to translate into relief on their side of the border.

The reporting paints a picture of a region bracing for more of the same. Whether Netanyahu retains power or Eisenkot replaces him, the stated goals remain a demilitarized south, Hezbollah's disarmament and enduring security for northern Israel. Until those goals are met on Israeli terms, withdrawal appears unlikely, negotiations remain frozen, and the Lebanese watching the campaign from the south see few reasons to expect change.