The Perils of Misinterpreting the Lebanese Revolution
By Nour F. Nasser
I visited Lebanon briefly in the first week of September to attend a friend’s wedding. The impeccably organised wedding stood in sharp contrast of a country spiralling out of control and an economy in meltdown. Since then, a confluence of regional and internal factors led to the formation of the Mikati cabinet, and in my view, a chance for some stabilisation. On my way to the airport to take my flight back home, a large highway billboard caught my eye. Rising above a heap of uncollected trash, it proudly announces (in Arabic) “This Time, the People Will Decide”.
I gathered that the message, sponsored by what seems to be a political action group of sorts, is referring to the 2022 Lebanese parliamentary elections. Besides the fact the message is rather simplistic (the people has always decided, and hence lies Lebanon’s major problem and demons), those elections, should they occur, will be the first since the major social protests that rocked Beirut in October 2019. They are therefore eagerly anticipated.
The main question remains whether the election results will fulfil the expectations of the hundred of thousands of Lebanese that took to the street asking for change.
A Misinterpreted Lebanese Revolution
To answer this question, it is critical to understand the reality of the 2019 “Lebanese Revolution”, an event of such rarity in the Lebanese Republic’s history. The major protests represented an exceedingly rare unified and unifying moment, one that most thought would be impossible. It also remains in my view deeply misinterpreted, with wide ranging repercussions for those hoping and planning to deliver change in the 2022 elections.
The widely accepted view is that the 2019 social unrest was a rejection of the political establishment, which consists essentially of the main traditional Lebanese parties and their sectarian leaders. In other words, it was an attempt to push the reset button. For a large part of the protestors, it is undeniable that this is exactly what it was. However, this is repeated so often and so widely that it came to be accepted as a self evident truth, as the truth.
It isn’t. What followed October 2019 confirmed that it wasn’t. In fact, there was no follow through to speak of, even after the criminal and calamitous 2020 Beirut Port explosion. Deviating, even marginally, from the main anti-corruption message led to the immediate fragmentation and later disappearance of the protests. Criticising any of the main six sectarian (tribal?) leaders led to the alienation of large swathes of the protestors.
The 2019 Lebanese Revolution was rather a call for change, but evidently not a change of the political leaders. Most protesters wanted their leaders to change, but not change their leaders. It seems that the only common denominator among the many protesters was venting their anger in the face of a crumbling economic and financial system (that since then crumbled) as well as the rampant corruption that accelerated its demise. The many other demands made, such as abolishing the sectarian system, changing the constitution, or even hanging the sectarian leaders, however noble and just they are, did not galvanise the same enthusiasm and clearly revealed Lebanon’s many and deep societal fault lines.
Those disgruntled by the failure of the protests try to avoid cognitive dissonance by pointing out that the Revolution failed because of factors such as the muscular intervention of Hezbollah and its proxies, an increasingly repressive police force and an all engulfing and hence distracting economic crisis. To them, October 2019 was only round one. There is some truth to that, especially Hezbollah’s role in fire-walling the current political establishment. But the reality is more nuanced: Most Lebanese are not ready to drop their sectarian identity, forged by centuries of mistrust, warring and tribalism.
Some will be quick to say that political change and economic reforms simply cannot cohabitate with the current political establishment and the clientelistic system it creates. It is therefore illogical to think of the Revolution as anything but a call for a complete reset. They are right. But the colors of politics are not clear nor solid. Political life is not black or white. It is about survival and compromise, and my guess is that some reforms will be done simply to allow the survival of this political class.
For many (or most?), the 2019 Lebanese Revolution was then primarily meant to exert pressure on the current political establishment, rather than to replace it. Even if Hezbollah did not stand in front of the Revolution, hence extinguishing it, the Lebanese sectarian system would have survived. As a matter of fact, it is likely to outlive Hezbollah.
Civil Society’s Three Fatal Mistakes
Most anti-establishment parties and leaders, civil society and a large part of expat groups have adopted a fatally flawed narrative in trying to interpret Lebanese political events. The narrative is a version of the following: There is no hope in any kind of reform from the architects and protectors of a failed system that is inherently designed to be clientelistic and hence corrupt. Although shades of “Killon Yaani Killon” have recently emerged, particularly through nuances on how to tackle the issue of Hezbollah, the same broad narrative still prevails. This is accompanied by a demagogic rhetoric, bordering nihilism and arrogance, not mention an ignorance of Lebanon’s reality. It is unlikely to succeed.
This narrative, based on facile arguments, ignores three flagrant facts.
First, traditional parties continue to command a sizeable popular base. When the billboard says “This Time, We Decide”, one can argue that this is precisely the problem. Elections in Lebanon, however flawed, are relatively representative. This is not to be oblivious of the relatively low participation rate in some districts and or the fact that the past few years have been transformational. However, alternative parties are not fighting thirty years of corruption. They are fighting decades and even centuries of tribalism and mistrust that created deeply entrenched social divisions.
The related second fact is that although undoubtedly eroding, the popular base remains easily excitable and many recent events substantiate that view. My guess is that the ongoing polling which is giving alternative parties, any alternative really, a dominant share of the intention of vote will not materialise to the extent expected or hoped for. Besides the ability of the traditional parties to rally support ahead of elections, the weakness and fragmentation of the alternative remains a major problem with little help on the way. Those hoping for change should worry that the vast majority of alternative candidates do not inspire confidence.
The third (unpopular) observation is the apathy of the Lebanese population. Since its creation in 1920 or its independence in 1943, Lebanon has had very few instances of major nation building moments. That reveals a civil disengagement and a feeling of powerlessness. The reality is that most Lebanese lack a strong sense of national identity and hence civic engagement or real motivation to change. Some friends in DC always pose a very valid question: What do Lebanese need more to revolt? This apathy permeates every level of Lebanese behaviour. For instance, the cynical Lebanese usually prefer emigrating to protesting. They prefer revolting from the comfort of their homes on Twitter or WhatsApp groups rather than on the streets. In fact, one would be hard pressed to find other instances where popular resistance was so weak in the face of the conditions the Lebanese endure.
The opposition, so far underwhelming and often amateurish, will need a more pragmatic approach that recognises Lebanon’s reality, a reality which cannot be circumvented.
Otherwise, and as the billboard says, this time again, the people will decide but it risks doing so in much the same way it did before.
A native of Lebanon, Nour F. Nasser is a historian and public policy expert. She lives and works in the United States.
Image: Wael Hamzeh/EPA/EFE
