Politics is the art of the possible, and in the land of missed opportunities, even the impossible becomes an option.
The municipal elections, held last month for the first time in nearly a decade, were only a small example of how far the establishment is willing to go to reinvent itself and secure a lifeline. The coalition between Hezbollah and the Lebanese Forces to retain complete control over the capital’s public spaces and trash collection—surprising even by Lebanese standards—pales in absurdity compared with what is happening behind closed doors.
At the Baabda Presidential Palace, a house of cards is being built. The Americans have expressed dissatisfaction with President Joseph Aoun’s handling of Resolution 1701’s implementation and Hizbullah’s disarmament. While The president cares strongly about this matter of course, his priorities lie elsewhere. With elections right around the corner, Aoun’s focus has shifted to securing the largest possible parliamentary bloc, by any alliance necessary. This matter is important because it’s about shaping how history will remember him.
Aoun’s thinking is understandable.
The Lebanese Forces emerged from the municipal elections as the big victors, and Samir Geagea, the party’s leader and Aoun’s top contender enjoys the trust and support of Saudi Arabia, the most powerful Sunni player in the world. The Saudis are supportive of Aoun, yet he is far from being their first pick, and the recent rapprochement between Riyadh and the new ruler in Damascus complicates matters. The president sees the importance of Sunni backing, but right now his focus is on his own relevance—which starts with securing seats in the parliament.
This is where realpolitik kicks in, throwing him into the arms of the “wise man” of Lebanese politics. Indicators—some speculative, others clear—suggest the president is moving toward a coalition with the “reasonable” Shiite and one of the shrewdest masters of Lebanese politics, Speaker of the Parliament Nabih Berri. Rumors are circulating in Beirut that Nabih Berri’s insistence on appointing Judge Zaher Hamadeh, a figure tainted by corruption allegations, enjoys a discreet presidential green light.
Sources close to the president downplay the rapprochement between Aoun and Berri. Even if support for Hamadeh’s candidacy remains debatable, the appointment of Ali Hamieh, a former minister close to Hizbollah, as an adviser leaves little room for speculation. Some claim Hamieh’s selection is an olive branch to the party, aimed at advancing stricter disarmament. Nothing on the ground supports this reading: after all, less controversial—and less corrupt—figures could have been invited to Baabda. Any risk here will fall on the president, who by compromising on sovereignty and reform may lose credibility both internationally and at home, while Berri confidently secures his speakership for life.
Geagea is no better. Like the president, he wants a parliamentary bloc large enough to influence the next occupant of the presidential seat, but his arithmetic is even trickier. Purging icons of corruption from his ranks—assuming he wished to do so—would cost him funding and seats he cannot forgo. The world is changing: Saudi backing is vital, but all eyes are on Damascus. If rumors of renewed Syrian management of Lebanon prove true, Geagea, more than anyone, knows what that means—and would rather not spend the era in prison. Who can blame him?
Even Walid Jumblatt, former leader of the Progressive Socialist Party, is in no easier position. Druze affairs in Syria are something he cannot ignore, yet one wrong step could end his leadership not only in the region but even within Lebanon.
Amid this complexity, Nawwaf Salam is working hard, yet playing it safe.
If the president’s curse is giving ear to the bad advisers on his team, the prime minister’s is listening to none. What once was his greatest strength as a judge, —independence—is proving to be his biggest political challenge. His strategy is containment: achieve what can be achieved during the one-year life span expected for his government, while mitigating risks by shaking hands with every available devil.
Finally, there are the reformers—some in the presidential palace, some in government, others in parliament. They differ in optimism, diligence, and sacrifice, giving an impression that rarely goes beyond being just that, and as time passes by they are all realizing that under the banner of realpolitik they will soon be pushed aside because they continue to refuse to play by the system’s rules.
That is the great mistake Joseph Aoun and Nawwaf Salam are now making.
Realpolitik means prioritizing national interest over idealistic principles. National interest is not the prerogative of a sect, a leader, or a faction. What we are witnessing—what we will see in the months leading to the elections—is more of the same. In trying to practice realpolitik, the president and prime minister display a naïveté bordering on political suicide.They are abandoning reform and allying with those who can help them survive. Following this line of thinking, the system will once again regenerate itself, only then they would have lost any leverage they have today. Lebanon, the land of missed opportunities, will earn yet another epithet for its ungovernability—not because the system is too strong but because those who could have slain it chose instead to use it for other agendas.
Practically speaking, realpolitik does require accepting that the Lebanese Forces, Amal, and the Progressive Socialist Party are indispensable political players with the only solid foundations strong enough to help rebuild the country. But it does not require surrendering all leverage over them. Certain lines must never be crossed—starting with the hands the president and prime minister choose to shake. An alliance with Nabih Berri can be justified, even commended. Picking a fight over Zaher Hamadeh cannot. Turning the other cheek to the man orchestrating the demonization of civil society—and even of the government and the prime minister—is not pragmatism; it is political suicide.
