Makram Rabah, historian and assistant professor at the American University of Beirut, joined me for a conversation that dissected the concept of change in Lebanon. Full disclosure: Makram is a good friend of mine and someone I deeply admire for his courage. He never hesitates to address the elephant in the room—even when that elephant has assassinated many of his friends, most recently Lokman Slim. I often wish the rest of us have even a fraction of his fearlessness and insight.
What we talked about:
Many people assume that change is something that happens in an instant—a dramatic event that resets the country overnight. But as Makram pointed out, real change is a process, not an on/off switch. Lebanon is not going to suddenly transform from the dysfunction of today into the "golden age" often romanticized in old videos. Instead, the shift we are seeing is a slow, generational one that demands patience and serious institutional reform.
One of the central points we discussed was the myth of instant transformation. Many in Lebanon expect a moment of reckoning—whether it be the death of Hassan Nasrallah, the collapse of Hezbollah, or the fall of the Assad regime in Syria—to be the turning point. But Makram was clear: change will not come in the form of a "big bang" event. If Lebanon is ever to be rebuilt into a functional state, it will be because its own people actively restructured it, not because some external force wiped the slate clean. That work takes time, and more importantly, it requires a fundamental shift in how Lebanese people perceive power and governance.
That led us to a discussion about the building blocks of change. Elections, for one, remain a key indicator of progress. The mere fact that Lebanese elections continue to take place despite war, economic collapse, and political paralysis shows that the system, however broken, still provides avenues for change. But as Makram emphasized, elections are only one piece of the puzzle. The real missing element is the separation of powers. Lebanon’s judiciary is still subject to political interference, and without an independent legal system, there can be no real accountability. He pointed out that anyone serious about reform must respect the institutional framework, rather than bending the rules to achieve short-term gains.
We also tackled one of the most controversial topics in Lebanon: the military tribunal system. This relic of authoritarian governance continues to prosecute civilians for what amounts to political speech, often at the behest of the ruling class. As Makram noted, figures like Gebran Bassil and Hassan Diab have weaponized the military tribunal to silence critics. Even Joseph Aoun, Lebanon’s Army Commander, distanced himself from the tribunal’s actions, despite having appointed its judges. Lebanon cannot claim to be a democracy while a military tribunal has the power to try civilians for hurting a politician’s feelings. The solution? Abolish the military tribunal and restrict its jurisdiction to actual military matters.
Our conversation inevitably turned to Hezbollah’s role in shaping Lebanon’s trajectory. Hezbollah presents itself as an invincible force, but its grip on the country is not as secure as it once was. The group’s military and political infrastructure relies heavily on Iran, yet October 7 and the ensuing regional escalation have exposed its vulnerabilities. Makram pointed out that Hezbollah’s leadership made two fatal miscalculations: first, assuming that the U.S. and Israel would tolerate its activities indefinitely; second, believing that Iran’s influence in the region would remain unchallenged. The recent assassinations of key figures within Hezbollah and Iran’s networks prove otherwise. The old narrative—that Hezbollah is a disciplined, undefeatable resistance—has cracked. And as their losses mount, so does the realization that they are not immune to the consequences of their own actions.
Another important point we discussed was the shift in public sentiment. Hezbollah has long framed itself as the protector of Lebanon’s Shiite population, but the cracks in that image are becoming more visible. Shiites in southern Lebanon are experiencing displacement for the fourth or fifth time in their lifetimes, and many are questioning whether this cycle of war is worth it. Makram made a crucial observation: Shiites don’t need protection; they need a functioning state. Hezbollah has consistently prioritized Iran’s geopolitical strategy over the well-being of Lebanese citizens, and more people are beginning to see that reality. However, this shift in perception will not automatically lead to Hezbollah’s downfall. Change, once again, requires active participation.
Which brings us to the most pressing question: What can ordinary Lebanese do? Makram’s answer was blunt: participate in elections and push for institutional reform. Change doesn’t come from wishful thinking or waiting for the downfall of a political party; it comes from taking action, from holding leaders accountable, and from understanding that true change requires more than just anger—it requires strategy.
This conversation with Makram Rabah reinforced a central truth about Lebanon: its fate is still in the hands of its people. The question is, are they ready to do the hard work of rebuilding their country, or are they still waiting for a miracle that will never come?
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