If there are two countries in the Middle East that are similarly entangled in the same problems and promises, they would be without a doubt Iraq and Lebanon.
I have lived in both places and witnessed first-hand the astonishing similarities in their poor governance, to say the least: two nations rich in history and culture, strategically located, with enormous potential, wasting decades because of mismanagement, sectarianism, geopolitical rivalries, external allegiances and most notably corruption.
Now, as the Middle East charts a new path amid a regional push to prioritise prosperity for all over narrow interests, Iraq and Lebanon once again find themselves in the same boat.
They have faced almost identical big-picture challenges for decades, and it seems the time has come to decide whether to move beyond foreign allegiance, particularly with Iran, to end the state-within-a-state phenomenon, and to seriously tackle corruption.
But it is no longer really a choice. Is it?
The problems of Iraq and Lebanon have spilled over their borders for far too long, and there is little prospect of countries in the region or beyond doing business with them, investing in them or offering substantial support unless those challenges are addressed.
The Iran war has changed the calculus, and it’s clear that the US has taken the lead in pressuring both sides to address long-standing problems, with one overriding strategic objective focused on curbing Tehran’s influence and dismantling the networks through which it has projected power across the Middle East.
Yet whatever Washington’s motives, the result has created a rare window of opportunity for Iraq and Lebanon.
Iraqi Prime Minister Ali Al Zaidi has made the disarmament of some of the country’s most influential militias, groups that have helped entrench sectarianism, corruption and the state-within-a-state model, a central goal of his government. He has also gone after corruption, recovering millions of dollars in stolen assets and setting potentially important precedents.
The seriousness of both efforts remains to be tested, but there is at least a visible drive.
In parallel, Lebanon now has a president and a government that have built much of their agenda around tackling essentially the same two problems. They have vowed to restore the state’s monopoly on arms by ending the presence of armed groups operating outside its authority. They have also promised to tackle a corrupt financial and political system that has bankrupted the state and devastated the dreams of many.
The efforts in both nations are unfolding under intense US pressure and increasingly close US supervision. Washington’s involvement has at times extended into remarkably narrow areas of governance, from an interest in taking over Lebanon’s electricity file to scrutiny of senior appointments in sensitive state institutions.
As Iraq began putting suspected thieves behind bars and challenging the power accumulated by armed factions, Lebanon started moving, although cautiously, in much the same direction.
In 1989, Lebanese warlords and politicians signed a landmark agreement to end the civil war and establish a regime based on sectarianism, creating a model of governance that divides the country’s fortunes and businesses among sects and warlords.
Almost four decades later, this model has clearly put the country on a path towards eventual collapse. Most Lebanese recognised this from the outset. Some chose to ignore it because they benefited from the system; others accepted the reality, and many simply left.
Lebanon has lost many of its brightest minds, but also its people’s confidence that they will one day live in a stable country where basic services are provided, such as electricity, a crisis that has remained unresolved by design to allow alternative providers to continue benefiting those in power. Think of generators, often run by militiamen.
Everything in Lebanon has become divided along sectarian lines, serving the ruling elite and their families, and it has simply gone too far. Public educational institutions, the military and security agencies, and other government-linked sectors all operate according to sectarian quotas. For example, if a security agency needs to recruit 50 officers, the positions would first be divided equally among sects then allocated among political parties and senior politicians. Even religious leaders would have their quotas.
After the 2003 US-led invasion, Iraq adopted a similar system of governance. It almost copied the Lebanese model paragraph by paragraph, putting the country in the hands of politicians who acted more like party leaders than statesmen. The result was that one of the world’s richest countries became one of its most corrupt, wasting hundreds of billions of dollars on elusive projects that were promised but often never materialised.
Sectarianism became so entrenched that people were killed simply because of their sect, while corruption was normalised to a point where ministers, members of parliament and senior civil servants are widely accused of using their positions to amass as much money as possible before disappearing, often protected by a second foreign passport.
Having lived in Iraq and Lebanon, and having grown to love both countries deeply, it is heart-breaking to see them suffering from many of the same problems. But it is also encouraging, if I dare write, to see both edging towards a fundamental solution, even if driven by outside pressure and for other purposes.
The two biggest risks are that one or both countries fall into another civil war, or that it takes another four decades to dismantle the deeply entrenched sectarianism from the institutions and fabric of the state.
No matter the twists and turns ahead, the fates of the two countries appear destined to follow a similar path.
