Lebanon’s greatest weakness has always been our attachment to problematic leaders who promise much but deliver chaos, sectarian division, and stagnation. These leaders—each idolized by some but despised by many—reflect our vulnerability to charismatic figures who exploit our fears and insecurities.

Today, I've simplified Lebanon's recent history into the struggle between its minorities, highlighting three figures who—despite arising from different circumstances—share similar flaws. Bashir Gemayel, Rafik Hariri, and Hassan Nasrallah all represent Lebanon’s chronic issue: a centralized government continually gutted or exploited by competing sects once they seize power. Regardless of their supporters’ denials, each leader’s project ultimately failed, compounding our crises as the dominating politicians frrom the Maronites, Sunnis, and Shias successively repeated the same mistakes. The tragedy is our failure to learn from this cycle, even now, as we aim to shape a better future.

Take Bashir Gemayel. Admired by some as a charismatic protector of Christian identity of Lebanon, his rise was driven by sectarian violence and polarization. He was beloved by those who saw strength in his militancy, yet deeply resented by others who experienced his politics as oppressive and divisive. His assassination in 1982 mythologized him, freezing him as a "what could have been," distracting generations of his supporters from addressing the civil war’s root causes—sectarianism, violence, and weak institutions. His legacy persists, not through positive reforms or lasting peace, but through the continued glorification of militancy and division. Those who despise him often view him as the singular embodiment of evil, interpreting every historical event exclusively through opposition to him. This narrow lens neglects broader commonalities and shared goals that could potentially unify diverse Lebanese communities and facilitate reconciliation.

Rafik Hariri, similarly, had genuine admirers who credited him with reconstructing Beirut, yet for many, he represented a problematic blend of wealth, political patronage, and unsustainable economic policies. His era saw rapid urban transformation but at a massive cost: ballooning debt, systemic corruption, and economic disparity. His assassination plunged Lebanon into further turmoil, entrenching political polarization rather than sparking national unity or genuine reform. His supporters often bowed down to Hezbollah assassinations, and his surviving son was a business partner in his father’s convicted killers, because it made him money at our expense. Hariri’s death became another catalyst for sectarian tension, further proof of our unhealthy reliance on messianic leadership. Before his assassination, Hariri consistently collaborated closely with Hezbollah and the Assad regime, playing a pivotal role in maintaining the silence and complicity—the omerta—that shielded both groups from accountability. That’s until the Assad regime and Hezbollah wanted more, and eliminated him with dozens of others in 2005. His relationships helped sustain a political arrangement that benefited these factions, further entrenching Lebanon in a cycle of corruption, instability, and compromised sovereignty.

Then comes Hassan Nasrallah, revered by his misguidd supporters as a resistance icon defying global powers. Yet under his leadership, Hezbollah has significantly harmed Lebanon—engaging in destructive wars, entrenching sectarian divisions, obstructing justice, and holding the entire country hostage to Iranian regional ambitions. The harsh reality is that Nasrallah’s appeal to some feeds off fear, instability, and an illusion of power and dignity rather than tangible progress. Hezbollah’s role in regional conflicts, particularly its brutal involvement in Syria, has exacerbated Lebanon’s economic and political crises, isolating the nation internationally and devastating its internal cohesion. And just like Bashir and Hariri, Nasrallah's ideas were inherently flawed and unsustainable, rooted in exploitation of unique circumstances rather than long-term vision for the common good. It remains to be seen whether his supporters will repeat the errors made by followers of Bashir and Hariri—fixating on what they consider martyrdom, becoming trapped in nostalgia, or futilely attempting to recreate or force moments when their messianic figure seized opportunities that have long since vanished.

Instead, Lebanon must move beyond these outdated paradigms and confront the reality that lasting solutions come not from charismatic leaders, but from accountable institutions and collective efforts.

Enough Strongmen

This reliance on charismatic but fundamentally flawed leaders is Lebanon’s chronic weakness. Our political culture repeatedly allows sectarian strongmen to dominate, promising protection but delivering turmoil. They manipulate identity politics, fostering an environment of perpetual anxiety and mistrust, ensuring their grip on power at the expense of national unity and development.

The Free Patriotic Movement's initial reform-driven vision in 2005 quickly devolved into Gebran Bassil’s manipulation of "Christian rights" rhetoric to shield his corruption and justify failed policies across multiple ministries. His appointment to these critical roles, driven more by familial ties—being Michel Aoun's son-in-law—than merit or suitability, underscores the entrenched nepotism and patronage within Lebanese politics. As long as his supporters thought that the illegal activities benefited them, it was fine by them, and that’s the real problem. Look where it’s left the country, and their party today.

The consequences have been devastatingly clear—projects like the failed Mseilha Dam, which stands as a costly monument to incompetence, or the tens of billions squandered on renting power-ships instead of investing sustainably in building effective power plants. These examples illustrate not just policy failures, but systemic corruption and disregard for public welfare embedded deeply within Lebanon's governance structure.

What can we do?

What can we do differently? We must reject the allure of charismatic, sectarian strongmen and invest in transparent, accountable institutions. Instead of idolizing past leaders, Lebanon needs decentralized governance, robust public services free from political interference, and independent institutions that prioritize citizen welfare.

And when I say this, I’m not just talking about the 2019 'killon ya3ne killon' class—I also mean our freshly-minted, hard-fought leaders like Joseph Aoun and Nawaf Salam. At times, it worries me how easily we slip into idolizing them, mimicking the very partisan loyalty we reject when it's directed at sectarian warlords. We shouldn’t fall into that trap. If anything, we must hold them even more accountable. After all, we expect significantly more from them than we ever would from Hezbollah MPs, Aounist ministers, or Hariri-era economic advisors. Every step these leaders take should be closely watched, openly discussed, and constructively critiqued—and when they miss the mark, we must let them know clearly.

Admittedly, this isn't easy. We exist in a polarized landscape, caught between Hezbollah-affiliated mouthpieces like Al Akhbar and propagandists like Ali Mortada on one side, and the bankers’ clan spokespeople, such as the Ghanem brothers, with their relentless astroturf campaigns targeting independent platforms like Megaphone, Daraj, and advocacy groups like Kulluna Irada, on the other. Any dissent or criticism often leads to being falsely labeled as either Hezbollah apologists or banker-funded operatives, smeared by platforms such as MTV’s Sar El Wa2et or similar blatantly pro-banker, anti-depositor voices.

The way to sidestep this harmful binary is by recognizing that not every disagreement signals an existential crisis. It's okay—even necessary—to openly critique decisions made by Joseph or Nawaf without immediately descending into despair or cynicism, which ultimately harms only ourselves and Lebanon’s future. We need to acknowledge that the coalition supporting these leaders is diverse, frequently disagreeing on critical issues. Ultimatums and inflexible stances will not move us forward. We’re all aboard the same ship, tasked with guiding it toward our collective vision. If the rudder shifts slightly or the wind blows in another direction, that doesn’t mean we can't course-correct—not just once, but continually, time after time.

Now that we’ve talked abstract big picture, let’s go into specifics we could do right now. One immediate step could be digitizing government services, reducing corruption and breaking patronage networks. When I went to Georgia a few times (the country), I thought I saw them successfully implement such reforms, significantly cutting corruption and improving everyday life by removing unnecessary bureaucracy and wasta. We could adopt a similar model. Digitization can streamline administrative processes, empower citizens, and reduce reliance on local political patrons, fundamentally altering the power dynamics that sustain corruption and clientelism.

Other than that, establishing an independent judiciary untouched by political interference is an absolute necessity. Holding leaders accountable through impartial courts would dismantle entrenched corruption and restore public trust, from August 4 to the Najib Mikati loans that Ghada Aoun always pretended to prosecute. Legal reforms should include transparent judicial appointments, protections for judges from political influence, and clear mechanisms to prosecute high-level corruption. Only judicial independence like that can help us rebuild confidence in governance and foster true accountability, for the first time ever.

Strong civil society initiatives and grassroots campaigns and uprisings that promote non-sectarian values have been gradually reshaping societal expectations and I hope it's reduced Lebanon's vulnerability to populist rhetoric. Public discourse should encourage critical thinking about political leaders' actions rather than blind allegiance based on sectarian identity or historical grievances.

Lebanon must reconsider its political structures and governance systems to ensure broader representation and reduce sectarian tensions. Decentralization and municipal empowerment can directly respond to local needs, fostering genuine community participation in governance. Localized government not only makes leaders more accountable but also facilitates quicker responses to citizens' needs, increasing satisfaction with public services and governance overall.

Ultimately, Lebanon needs fewer heroes and more institutions. We must choose systemic stability and civic unity over idolizing charismatic figures who perpetuate cycles of conflict and division. Real strength doesn't comes from tolerating suffering but from actively building accountable, transparent, and inclusive systems that truly serve us all, not serve one group over all the others like the three examples I talked about today did.

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