Building Cross-Sectarian Solidarity in Lebanon

How grassroots cooperation can dismantle sectarianism and imperial influence

Introduction

Lebanon has become both a warning and an invitation for the world’s movements. A warning because it shows how easily revolutionary hope can be devoured by sectarian politics and foreign meddling; an invitation because its very fractures also expose the raw material of a new solidarity waiting to be shaped. In a society where every loaf of bread is tagged with a confessional identity, and each blackout interpreted through sectarian lenses, the challenge is immense but clarifying. The myth of separate destinies must be broken by cooperation that begins at the level of electricity bills and rent receipts.

The decay of Lebanon’s political order is no mystery. Oligarchs hoard dollars abroad, sectarian leaders exchange vetoes like trading cards, and international lenders tighten their grip with “reforms” that privatise what remains of the commons. Yet amid despair, a libertarian-inflected left has begun experimenting with decentralised coordination, mutual aid, and radically transparent decision structures. Their question is not who should rule, but how to erase the need for rulers altogether.

To win, such a movement must weave alliances that cut deeper than confession or ideology. This requires designing rituals that dramatise shared vulnerability, building institutions that embody trust, and broadcasting measurable achievements that sustain faith in collective power. The Lebanese struggle, though local, speaks to any society fractured along lines of identity. It asks: can ordinary people demonstrate, within the ruins, a model of coexistence beyond both capital and creed? That is the thesis of this essay: solidarity grounded in material cooperation can defeat sectarianism faster than any manifesto. The path runs through food, rent, electricity and visibility.

From Confessional Trap to Cooperative Imagination

Understanding the Sectarian Grip

Lebanon’s sectarian system is not merely a political arrangement; it is an emotional architecture. Power brokers survived civil wars by converting basic needs into instruments of loyalty. Electricity is distributed through patronage networks, jobs through family connections, safety through allegiance. The result is a permanent dependency that converts subsistence into obedience. Whenever reform threatens, elites chant the mantra of identity: Christian dignity, Sunni pride, Shia resilience, Druze autonomy. Each word masks the same economic truth—class exploitation wrapped in holy cloth.

For activists, breaking this cycle means shifting the field of struggle from theology to material conditions. When workers realise their interrogation about faith is a diversion from stolen wages, consciousness flips. The first spark of class awakening in Lebanon often emerges not in theoretical debates but at gas stations or landlord confrontations. Every shared crisis—bread prices, blackouts, inflation—is a portal to cross-sect action.

Building a Culture of Shared Provision

Protest alone does not dissolve sectarian identity because rallies can be easily re-colonised by partisan flags. The test is whether communal life itself can be reorganised around cooperation. Here the notion of provision politics becomes essential: replacing competition for scarce resources with joint production and distribution.

Imagine neighbourhood councils pooling funds to bulk-buy essentials, then distributing them via transparent lists posted in public squares. When a Christian dockworker receives food sourced by a Shia cooperative, and a Sunni shopkeeper’s child studies under a shared light repaired by Druze electricians, the boundaries of belonging begin to blur. The economic ritual of mutual provision outperforms any speech about unity. It does not preach coexistence; it practices it.

The novelty lies not in charity but in equal exchange. Each participant contributes according to capacity and receives according to need without intermediaries. The political symbolism is potent: when the ruling elite’s patronage networks lose their monopoly over survival, their claim to represent the community collapses. Material independence becomes the seed of ideological liberation.

This transformation requires persistence. Ritual repetition of cooperative acts creates new norms. The first free meal is a curiosity, the fifth a tradition, the tenth an expectation. Through that repetition, cooperation becomes ordinary, sectarian patronage abnormal. Thus cultural revolution begins not in manifestos but in habits of shared survival.

The Role of Libertarian Left Ideals

The emerging libertarian-oriented Lebanese left draws inspiration from anarcho-syndicalist models where workplace democracy and local autonomy replace hierarchical control. These ideals resonate in a context weary of both failed socialism and predatory neoliberalism. Their potential lies in adaptability: instead of proposing a single national blueprint, they seed countless local experiments. Power aggregates upward through federation, not decree.

Such models require ideological humility. Instead of claiming universal truth, they offer open frameworks: anti-sectarian, anti-imperialist, pro-worker. Nothing more. This minimal creed creates spaciousness for diverse subcultures to collaborate. A libertarian left that understands itself as facilitator rather than prophet can unify forces once fragmented by dogma. It can turn political pluralism from liability into laboratory.

Transitioning from reactive protests to proactive construction marks the next developmental leap. The movement must abandon the posture of eternal opposition and start governing pockets of life differently. Sovereignty, measured in self-sufficient electricity hours or affordable housing units, becomes concrete. Each liberated practice prefigures the society to come.

By staging the struggle as cooperative creation, activists bypass theological stalemates. The question is no longer which community’s values prevail, but how many kilowatts can be produced without exploitation. Material production becomes moral proof.

Designing Collective Rituals of Cooperation

Common Provision Fridays: Ritualizing Trust

To convert sporadic cooperation into habit, the Lebanese movement can institutionalize public events that fuse celebration, logistics, and political education. One exemplary design is Common Provision Fridays, a recurring event where neighbourhoods transform mundane spaces into pop-up commons. Once per lunar month, church steps, parking lots, and mosque courtyards host cooperative distribution fairs.

The ritual unfolds in three stages. First comes Contribution: participants bring surplus items—food, data cards, fuel shares—while transparent boards display comparative costs. Collective buying power immediately translates into visible savings, the first proof of unity’s material benefit. Second, Cooperation: mixed crews cook communal meals where each dish carries a tag noting its real labour cost. Diners participate not as recipients but as co-contributors, performing short tasks such as organising crates or translation. Participation itself becomes currency. Third, Coordination: after eating, an open assembly invites two-minute speeches to announce new initiatives or share grievances. Only those who contributed labour may vote, linking deliberation to tangible effort rather than identity.

Repeating this cycle monthly has several strategic effects. It builds logistical competence for future strikes, establishes interpersonal trust across sect lines, and creates a living archive of resource flows outside patronage channels. Over time, Common Provision Fridays mutate from solidarity fairs into prefigurative institutions, capable of switching from feast to blockade when crisis peaks. They anchor the imagination of a parallel economy already functioning within the shell of the old.

The deeper insight is psychological: rituals unify where ideology divides. Eating together repairs the collective nervous system so that future confrontations with power are fueled by joy rather than resentment. Trust built around bread and light cannot be easily undone by sectarian propaganda.

Linking Utilities to Collective Agency

No symbols of Lebanon’s dysfunction are more telling than rent inflation and chronic blackouts. Yet these vulnerabilities hold immense organizing potential because they affect all confessions equally. The movement can therefore transform domestic grievances into a common struggle for dignity.

Rent resistance begins with data. Voluntary teams gather anonymised information about leases and overdue payments to reveal systemic exploitation. Posting these figures in public spaces converts invisible suffering into shared outrage. The next step is coordinated negotiation: tenants visiting landlords as unified blocs to demand freezes or reductions. The moral argument is simple: in a global crisis, collective survival outweighs individual profit. When landlords realise refusals could ignite synchronized defaults, they often compromise. Each small victory demonstrates what solidarity achieves that individual bargaining cannot.

Parallel to rent actions, generator clinics address energy deprivation. Mechanics volunteer inspections and repairs, salvaging parts from scrap to stretch capacity. Results are displayed publicly: kilowatts restored, hours of power regained, costs saved. This transparency transforms technical skill into political theatre. When mixed-faith teams fix what corrupt institutions neglect, spectators witness competence replacing cynicism. Every watt regained is consciousness expanded.

As with the Provision Fridays, utility projects educate through doing. Participants experience governance without hierarchy. Trust shifts from sectarian leaders to collective efficacy. Each repaired motor whispers a radical message: we can provide for ourselves.

The Symbolic Economy of Visibility

Movements decay when progress is invisible. Lebanon’s compressed morale demands tangible signs that cooperation bears fruit. Thus the creation of a public scoreboard becomes vital. Imagine a vast mural of a cedar tree visible to commuters, its trunk widening each time a community achieves a measurable gain—kilowatts restored, rents reduced, households joined. Growth becomes spectacle; numbers turn narrative.

Online, an encrypted platform mirrors the mural, allowing neighbourhood councils to submit verified results. Every update triggers an animation of the cedar’s branches spreading across the screen. Participation is celebrated not through competition but symbiosis: each district a ring in the same living organism. This imagery communicates that unity magnifies power rather than diluting identity.

Monthly, a Ring Ceremony gathers participants to recount the stories behind each metric and pledge the next. By weaving storytelling with quantitative evidence, the movement balances heart and head, emotion and accountability. Ritual infuses data with meaning; data grounds ritual in reality. Together they produce durable motivation, the most elusive resource in activist life.

Public visibility also acts as nonviolent protection. Authorities hesitate to repress a movement whose achievements are literally painted on city walls. To erase the mural is to admit fear of the truth it displays. Thus transparency doubles as defense.

Through these creative rituals, Lebanese activists shift from reactive protest to proactive institution-building, turning social cooperation into both performance and infrastructure.

From Protest to Counter-Governance

Federating Local Councils

Single events, however successful, risk isolation unless they are woven into a federation capable of mutual defense and strategic escalation. The logic of confederation is simple: autonomy plus coordination. Each neighbourhood maintains its local customs while sharing information and resources through open digital channels and periodic assemblies. Rotating spokespeople prevent the crystallisation of new elites, while recallable mandates ensure accountability.

Over time, such a federation becomes a dual power: a grassroots system capable of negotiating directly with (or bypassing) the state. Its legitimacy derives from service delivery and ethical integrity rather than formal recognition. When citizens see that rent relief or power restoration emerges from cooperative councils instead of ministries, allegiance begins to shift. Colonising everyday governance functions is how revolutions mature without bloodshed.

International solidarity networks can amplify this shift. Diaspora communities can adopt neighbourhood projects, sending small grants or technical expertise without controlling decisions. Each external contribution should flow transparently through the public scoreboard, preventing dependency or influence capture. The goal is not charity but collaboration among equals across borders.

Timing Actions within Kairos Cycles

Repressive regimes thrive on activists’ predictability. Lebanese movements can outpace them by adopting what strategists call the lunar rhythm: brief, intense surges of action followed by phase shifts into reflection and logistics. This exploits bureaucratic inertia. When the system finally mobilises to crush one protest, the movement has already dissolved into preparation for the next.

Historical evidence supports this rhythm. During the Arab Spring, early uprisings succeeded when timing aligned with peak public anger and before strong countermeasures hardened. Sustained occupation without rest invited burnout and infiltration. Hence, by launching within a lunar cycle—roughly twenty-eight days—activists preserve freshness and psychological resilience. Each provision event can signal the start of a new phase, a calendar of resistance aligned with natural rhythm rather than news cycles.

Deflecting Co-optation and Repression

Every Lebanese generation has seen liberation slogans tailored into party branding. Preventing this repetition requires inoculating against centralisation. Three safeguards stand out:

1. Transparency: publish every budget, decision and vote. When nothing can be hidden, corruption dies.
2. Rotation: enforce strict turnover among coordinators to prevent personal fiefdoms.
3. Ideological minimalism: maintain the triad—anti-sectarian, anti-imperialist, pro-worker—as the sole doctrinal anchor.

Beyond these, cultivate humor. Satire punctures both hypocrisy and despair. Street art ridiculing sectarian politicians in shared vernacular unites faster than manifestos. Laughter disarms fear; fear is the regime’s last defense.

By institutionalising playfulness alongside rigor, the Lebanese movement can remain unpredictable—a quality power cannot replicate.

Measuring Sovereignty in Everyday Life

Traditional protest measures success by turnout, media coverage, or minor policy wins. Those metrics no longer suffice. The new benchmark is sovereignty gained: concrete capacities wrested from state or oligarchic control. Kilowatts generated independently, food distributed outside markets, rent reduced through direct action—all register as increments of sovereignty.

Tracking these gains through public dashboards gives participants a sense of cumulative achievement. Each data point becomes a building block in an alternative polity. Sovereignty ceases to be abstract; it lives in the practical independence of communities. When sufficient sovereignty accumulates, the movement no longer petitions government—it replaces it from below.

By redefining victory in these terms, activists free themselves from short-term disappointments. Every cooperative act, however small, becomes a win. The revolution, rather than a distant event, becomes a daily practice.

Putting Theory Into Practice

To translate these insights into tangible progress, movements can pursue the following steps:

1. Map Shared Vulnerabilities
   Conduct a participatory survey identifying issues that cut across sectarian lines—rents, power, water, healthcare. Prioritize two or three that yield visible results within a month. Shared pain points cultivate shared purpose.

2. Launch Common Provision Fridays
   Initiate recurring public commons where all communities trade labor and resources. Keep money out of the exchange to highlight mutual reliance. Document each event visually for online diffusion.

3. Create People’s Utility Desks
   Transform gatherings into service points offering rent-negotiation support and generator maintenance. Track metrics of savings and restored services.

4. Build the Cedar Scoreboard
   Paint murals registering cumulative achievements. Update monthly with numbers sourced from verified community data. Mirror the mural online to involve diaspora participants.

5. Establish a Council Federation
   Link local committees through open assemblies and encrypted communication tools. Use federated moderation to coordinate actions without central command.

6. Cycle Campaigns Strategically
   Time waves of action using natural or cultural calendars to stay ahead of repression. Alternate between mobilization, evaluation, and rest.

7. Codify Accountability Rituals
   Integrate decision renewal into public ceremonies. Let each metric achieved become the occasion for storytelling, ensuring transparency fuels pride, not hierarchy.

Through these steps, activism transcends symbolism. Each gathering, repair, or negotiation becomes a laboratory for the society envisioned: egalitarian, participatory, fearless.

Conclusion

Lebanon’s crisis, though tragic, carries an alchemical potential. It condenses every illness of modern politics—sectarianism, oligarchy, dependency—into one visible organism, forcing a generation to experiment or perish. The emerging libertarian-left response is not a new ideology but a rediscovery of solidarity as infrastructure. When communities feed, light, and shelter themselves collaboratively, they outgrow their confessional cages.

Protest, in this new model, becomes less a moment of shouting and more a method of self-rule rehearsal. The ultimate objective is sovereignty measured not in flags but in functioning networks of mutual provision. A mural widening its cedar rings faster than any political reform law captures that vision with poetic clarity.

If such strategies succeed, Lebanon might again export revolution—this time not through slogans, but through living examples of cross-sectarian cooperation. The question then asks itself: can the rest of the world learn to build solidarity as concretely, as beautifully, as those who once learned to share power during outage and inflation?

What ritual of shared provision could grow, in your own city, until its roots break the concrete of division?