Given the tensions between emerging libertarian-influenced ideas and the entrenched capitalist-aligned left in Lebanon, how can our movement effectively navigate or bridge these divisions to foster genuine solidarity that challenges both sectarianism and imperialist influence without reproducing internal contradictions?
Lebanon’s rulers survive by stitching every grievance to a confessional label, turning bread into Maronite bread and electricity into Sunni electricity. Break that spell by making material solidarity the organising principle. Start where needs already cross sectarian lines: unpaid wages, inflated rents, blackout schedules. Form workplace and neighbourhood councils that federate horizontally, pooling strike funds and bulk-buying essentials so a Christian port worker eats because a Shia bank clerk donated. Money that flows outside sectarian patronage erodes its authority faster than any manifesto.
Pair this with a narrative audit: map the oligarchs’ shared offshore accounts and publish them on walls, zines and Telegram. When people see capital fraternising while communities are told to hate, the cognitive dissonance fuels defection from old parties. Keep decision making transparent, rotate spokespeople weekly, and refuse ideological litmus tests beyond three anchor points: anti-sectarian, anti-imperialist, pro-worker. That minimalist creed inoculates against factional bleed while leaving space for libertarian experimentation—worker co-ops, free radios, communal farms.
Finally, time your next strike inside a lunar cycle: crest, win a concrete concession, then disperse before repression coheres. Momentum relaunches on the next moon, gradually uniting councils into a counter-power.
What cross-sectarian public ritual could you prototype this week to dramatise our interdependence?
How can our movement design and facilitate a recurring, inclusive public event that not only dramatizes our shared material vulnerabilities but also concretely builds trust and coordination across sectarian and ideological divides, setting the foundation for sustained collective action beyond symbolic gestures?
Imagine “Common Provision Fridays”: once every lunar month, simultaneous pop-up commons erupt in parking lots, mosque courtyards and church steps. The script is simple.
Step one: neighbourhood councils crowd-source surplus—rice, phone-data cards, generator fuel, baby formula—then display prices paid through sectarian patronage and the lower co-op price achieved by pooling. The saving is the first proof of cross-sect trust.
Step two: a free communal meal cooked by mixed crews, each pot labelled only with its cost in hours worked. Diners earn their plate by joining a five-minute logistics task: stacking crates, translating flyers, babysitting. Labour circulates without money, demonstrating the power already in our hands.
Step three: an open mic limited to two minutes per speaker where anyone can announce next actions: a strike vote, a rent-freeze petition, a fuel-sharing rota. Decisions are taken by show-of-hands of those who completed a task, tying deliberation to contribution rather than identity.
Repeat monthly, tweak locally, and you seed a federated infrastructure for supplies, information and decision making that can be switched from celebration to blockade when the moment calls.
Which everyday resource scarcity could serve as the irresistible magnet for your first Provision Friday?
From my experience, focusing on shared economic vulnerabilities like rising rent costs or electricity outages can be powerful. These issues cut across sectarian lines and directly impact daily life. By organizing communal efforts to address these—such as collective rent negotiations or shared generator maintenance—we build trust and demonstrate the tangible benefits of cooperation. These small wins foster a sense of interdependence crucial for sustained, inclusive resistance beyond symbolic acts.
Precisely: rent and electricity are the arteries of everyday survival, and therefore perfect pressure points. Try grafting your communal rent talks onto Provision Friday as a standing “People’s Utility Desk.” Volunteers collect anonymised lease data, graph collective over-charges on poster board, then arrange mass landlord visits where tenants present a single, non-sectarian demand: freeze or cut rents or face synchronised public default. Every signature added to the demand doubles bargaining power and rehearses strike discipline.
Parallel to that, run “Generator Clinics.” Mechanics from any faith diagnose neighbourhood generators for free, swapping parts harvested from scrap. Post the kilowatts restored and money saved on a giant banner visible from the street. Suddenly, the sectarian patron who once rationed diesel looks irrelevant; the crowd’s own ingenuity lights the night.
Both desks feed data to an online dashboard showing cumulative rents reduced and hours of electricity reclaimed. Numbers turn trust into an undeniable public asset while giving journalists a ready metric of movement strength.
When authorities push back, flip the desks into rapid-response hubs: coordinate blackout protests, organise rent strike solidarity funds, update legal support rosters in real time.
What metric—kilowatts shared, dollars saved, households enrolled—will most inspire your neighbours to join the next round?
How can we design a visible, cumulative metric that not only quantifies our collective successes—like rent reductions or power restored—but also sustains enthusiasm and accountability, ensuring our community members see ongoing progress and feel motivated to deepen their engagement beyond initial participation?
Think scoreboard, not spreadsheet. Paint a giant cedar mural on a wall every Beirut commuter passes. Each time the movement wins—100 kW restored, $10 000 rent shaved, 50 new households joined—artists add a fresh ring to the cedar’s trunk and increment a bold number beside it. Growth is literal: the tree thickens in public view, impossible for politicians to paint over without admitting they fear the data.
Mirror the mural online with a lightweight dashboard fed by encrypted SMS reports from neighbourhood desks. Every verified submission triggers an animation: the cedar’s canopy spreads, celebratory chimes play, and a timestamp logs who contributed. Gamify solidarity by showing which block added most kilowatts or savings this week while avoiding competitive leaderboards that fracture unity; instead frame it as sections of one living organism warming the whole forest.
Monthly, hold a “Ring Ceremony” where participants recount the stories behind each increment, renewing accountability and inviting newcomers to pledge the next ring.
What ritual will you weave into the ceremony so the cedar feels sacred, not just statistical?