Last summer, gas masks were a common sight on the streets of Beirut.
But residents weren’t wearing the masks to protect themselves from a
chemical attack or toxic pollution; rather, they were to combat the
stench of a quickly growing pile of garbage. “We are coughing, we have
allergies and there are mosquitoes and flies in our homes,” one Beiruti told the AP.
With the 2015 closure of one of the city’s largest landfills, citizens
were left with no functioning waste disposal system, and large heaps of garbage began to appear on roads, along river beds, and in nearby forests.
Many Lebanese have taken to the streets to protest the garbage
crisis, but it is just one symptom of a governing elite that many
citizens feel have lost touch with the people’s concerns. Lebanese
politics are, by design, rife with sectarianism; top politicians have
continually used their status for personal gain; over the past six
years, parliamentary elections have twice been unconstitutionally postponed due to the fear of political tensions escalating to sectarian violence. To top it off, Lebanon has been without a president since 2013.
Beirut’s garbage problem cast light on a government that has
preoccupied itself with political distractions, while remaining largely
apathetic to the grievances of the people it represents.
But finally, this May, Lebanese voters turned out for the first municipal elections—or any elections—since 2009, and the results were a blow
to the status quo. Elections in the northern city of Tripoli ushered in
a majority of candidates from a roster backed by a political outsider,
and a grassroots movement in Beirut posed an unexpected threat to the
political establishment. These municipal elections may not have solved
any of Lebanon’s long-term policy problems, but they were a step forward
for a population frustrated with poor public administration—the type
that lets poisonous levels of garbage pile up on street corners. Rather
than being reduced to sectarian conflict—which would have given the
government an excuse to postpone voting once again—Lebanese voters used
the ballot to make themselves heard, showing public officials that they
are ready to once again resume the political schedule.
Sectarian from the Start
Politics in Lebanon were indelibly affected by the country’s 15-year civil war, which ended in 1990 and caused around 150,000 deaths.
The factionalism that triggered the conflict—and still informs Lebanese
politics—reaches far back into the country’s history. From 1920 to
1943, Christians were granted disproportionate governmental
representation by colonial authorities—a source of much discontent
within the Muslim community. As demographics shifted in favor of the
Muslim population, an armed conflict eventually erupted between Lebanese
Christians and Palestinians, with other factions and regional powers
picking sides.
At the end of the fighting, militias were dismantled, but nothing
could dissolve the tensions that had been magnified by the war. Today,
sectarianism still remains the most influential force in Lebanese
politics, and parliamentary seats are distributed according to confession,
with proportionate representation for Sunnis, Shiites, and the
country’s various Christian sects. While this allocation helps keep the
peace, it also makes cooperation between factions difficult and has
recently been the subject of many popular protests, chiefly in the capital of Beirut.
This sectarianism is a primary cause of the political stasis the country has faced since 2013,
when parliamentary elections were originally scheduled to occur. The
decision to postpone the vote came amidst escalating sectarian tensions
largely related to the civil war in neighboring Syria. There were also
disagreements within parliament about proposals to reorganize electoral
districts and move from a winner-take-all to a proportional
representation system (there were concerns that the changes would
disproportionately benefit one sectarian coalition over another).
Disagreements like these led the 2009-elected parliament to
unconstitutionally extend its own term, postponing parliamentary and presidential elections first until 2014 and then 2017. Lebanon’s failure to remain electorally on schedule has called into question its ability to function as a state. “We can no longer tolerate this sick reality the country is living in,” said Ali Hamade, a writer for Lebanese newspaper An-Nahar. However, if this May’s municipal elections are any indication, the country may be on the verge of positive change.
Making Lists
Ballots for municipal elections in Lebanon are not unlike those in
the United States—often populated by a few names the public know but
many more that they don’t. To help voters navigate a complicated
sectarian political system, it is common for established politicians to
put together political “lists” of candidates for a predetermined number
of city council seats. This is especially helpful because voters go into
the voting booth with a blank sheet that they must fill in by hand, and
it’s unsurprisingly hard to remember 21 different names. A prewritten
list is easy to scan—if a voter sees mostly names he knows and likes, he
can simply choose to vote for the whole list, thinking that he’d be
likely to agree with the rest of the candidates, too. Lebanese voters do
not need to vote for whole lists, but their votes are often informed by
the candidates who appear on a given list, as well as by the
politicians who back each list.
Unsurprisingly, municipal elections are tailored to local issues
rather than national ones. Politicians with regional influence can put
together lists that appeal to the demographics of a single city, rather
than the entirety of Lebanon’s diverse population. In order to promote
themselves on the national stage, by contrast, higher-level politicians
must often play to the various concerns of Lebanon’s diverse factions.
But such inclusive lists with broad representation often fail to capture
the hearts of local constituents.
That’s what occurred on May 29, in the fourth and final round of
Lebanese municipal elections in the northern city of Tripoli. There, the
pioneer of change was former justice minister Ashraf Rifi, who recently
resigned after clashes with the political establishment—particularly former prime minister Sa’ad Hariri—over the power of Hezbollah
in the national government. After his resignation, without a national
governmental position to protect, he could organize a list of candidates
for Tripoli’s municipal offices that did not have pan-factional appeal.
“Ashraf Rifi … knows how to appeal to the street in northern Lebanon,”
Dr. Hilal Khashan, professor of political science at the American
University of Beirut, told the HPR. Called Tripoli’s Choice, the list won an 18/24 majority of council seats against one backed by Hariri, two other former prime ministers, and several billionaires.
According to Dr. Khashan, the outcome of these municipal elections is
“indicative of the mood in Lebanon … The Lebanese people … are fed up
with the establishment … People want change.” Additionally, the vote
proved that Lebanon is capable of holding peaceful elections without
devolving into riots or civil war—a very real fear for officials who
postponed the 2013 elections over similar concerns. “Lebanese people
showed their leaders, ‘we are capable of having elections without
devolving into a violent disaster,’” Amanda Rizkallah, a post-doctoral
research fellow at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government’s Middle
East Initiative, told the HPR. “The fact that municipal elections were
held tells us that parliamentary elections can be held,” Dr. Khashan
said. The outcome reflected a Tripoli so frustrated by the norm that
rejecting the establishment was the only option.
Beirut, My City
The Lebanese capital city of Beirut saw a similar phenomenon. There, an underdog list of candidates claimed a shocking 40 percent
of the vote this this past May. While not enough to win, it was a
symbolic victory for a group of self-organized, inexperienced, and
secularly minded candidates. The list, called Beirut Madinati,
meaning “Beirut, My City,” was mostly comprised of filmmakers,
architects, songwriters, journalists, and other political outsiders, a
far cry from the usual roster of highly partisan, sectarian candidates.
Its vision for Beirut involved social reform, inclusivity, and sustainability.
If elected, the candidates promised to improve walking and biking
infrastructure, revise taxation structures to make housing more
affordable, and implement a system of secondary sorting, reuse, and
recycling—an especially appealing agenda item after the worst of the
Beirut garbage crisis. But instead, control over the city went once
again to a series of experienced but uncoordinated politicians with no
clear vision for improving city services or infrastructure.
Although Beirut Madinati did not win against the established
political class, it posed a real enough threat that its opposition had
to band together to defeat it, crossing traditional political divisions.
“Everybody ganged up on the new guys,” explained Rizkallah. “It exposed
the fact that … when push comes to shove, they all want to protect the
status quo,” not necessarily solve issues that matter to constituents.
As in Tripoli, many Beirut voters felt neglected by the existing
political class and used the municipal elections to seek representation
elsewhere.
A Fresh Start
Perhaps Beirut and Tripoli are signs of a coming change in the way
Lebanese politics operates. Voters seem to be looking less to
traditional, sectarian ways of choosing representatives. Beirut Madinati’s
supporters broke ranks to vote against the establishment Sunni
candidates. “Many Sunnis were able to say that ‘yeah, he’s a Sunni,’ but
that doesn’t mean I have to support him,” said Rizkallah. A majority of
voters also came out against the established elite in Tripoli,
rejecting a list with high-profile establishment backing.
On the other hand, according to Dr. Imad Salamey, associate professor
of political science and international affairs at the Lebanese American
University, the winds of change may not be as strong as they appear.
Ultimately, sectarianism is king, he told the HPR. In the parliamentary
elections, “Lebanese people will be voting for sectarian groups or not
voting at all.” Lesser-known parliamentary candidates lack the
organization, funding, and big-name political backing to stand a real
chance against at the national level, he argued. The small scale of
municipal contests allows underdogs to carve out niche followings, but
to win on the big stage, candidates need bigger bases. Sectarianism
alignment often does the trick.
Sectarian or not, though, it is clear that parliamentary elections
are long overdue. There have already been two postponements due to
regional instability and sectarian divisions,
and another one would likely only increase tension and further
destabilize the country. Especially for the ruling political class that
“want[s] to protect the status quo,” in the words of Rizkallah, further
postponements may actually feed voter frustration and undermine
establishment power, strengthening the appeal of nontraditional options
like Beirut Madinati. And the municipal elections have proven that Lebanon can handle an election without breaking into factional unrest.
On a national scale, Lebanon’s municipalities do not have obvious,
meaningful influence. They lack the size and money to exercise many of
the responsibilities devolved to them by the national government. And
yet, the latest municipal elections have refreshed the country’s
political climate. They were held peacefully and democratically, and
showed a population that is ready to resume participation in a democracy
that has been on pause since 2013. If all goes according to plan,
Lebanon will finally hold its parliamentary elections in 2017, which may help inspire confidence in a population that has become increasingly disenchanted with its government.
Image Source: Wikipedia/Thylacin // Public Domain Images/Ben Barber, USAID
