Consensual…

This term is more relevant than ever in every country in the world and has returned to its original definition: an act can only be consensual, or consented to, if it is accepted by the other party. The first example that comes to mind is the sexual act, which dominates headlines, drives trends on social media, and can annihilate a career or a vocation.

As long as it applies to an act between two individuals, the term has limited consequences. But when it becomes the foundation of a policy, a society, or even the pillar of a country, that is a completely different matter.

In Lebanon, everything is consensual: its democracy, its rule of law, its very existence.

Originally, this much-coveted term comes from its Latin root consensus, meaning “accepted by all.” And that is precisely Lebanon’s curse: everything must be accepted by everyone, otherwise nothing exists.

Trying to please everyone is the same as pleasing anyone, as Sacha Guitry once said. And in Lebanon, the “anyones” not only abound, they make the law.

If life is made up of competition, in Lebanon it is a fan club: no one has lost, everyone has won—almost. The only time there was a loser (without naming them explicitly) was during the Taëf Accords, which reduced the powers granted to the President of the Republic in favor of those of the Prime Minister and the Speaker of Parliament. But, as Beigbeder wrote, Christians have broad shoulders and must bear all the misfortunes and sins of the world.

Since that day, everything has been based on consensus, including democracy. A consensualism not between the different components, factions, tribes, and religions that make up the country’s communities, but between their specifically designated leaders or their parties—even though some enjoy a longevity far greater than others.

All it takes is for a single person to wield a veto for the machine to grind to a halt, under pretexts as fallacious as they are varied, the most recent being civil war.

Implementing Resolution 1701 (and incidentally 1559, which serves as its introduction) would lead to civil war.

Granting expatriates the right to vote for the 128 deputies would guarantee blood flooding the streets.

Begging (and the word is still too proud) for justice for August 4 would trigger an apocalypse more devastating than the explosion itself.

In the name of consensual democracy, it is consensual totalitarianism that reigns.

In three weeks, it will have been one year since the new occupant of Baabda took up residence. In his inaugural speech, some nostalgics heard echoes of a dream shattered on September 14, 1982. Others saw the advent of a new era, carrying hope.

But once again, consensus has returned to the forefront, with its political and security scarecrows—convenient pretexts to slow down any decisive action in the eyes of those it affects.

Today, we are at the same point as on January 8, 2025. Everything must be accepted by everyone, otherwise nothing happens. Under these conditions, it is impossible to build a state governed by the rule of law.

Demilitarizing militias and paramilitary groups would be madness, because it would not be consensual. It would be state-sponsored rape, even if the rapist were originally the executioner. Not only would he have to be appeased, but also absolved; otherwise, it would be the end of consensus, and therefore the announced beginning of civil war.

This applies to all files: the port, the major scandals, where it is imperative to preserve the consensual balance—that is, the confessional and communal balance. Why should a Christian minister be prosecuted and not his Muslim colleague, when religious dignitaries strive to draw red lines around every child of their community?

How can an army composed of Shiite soldiers be sent to confront their “brothers”? On this point, we have in fact indirectly consented to security subcontracting entrusted to a foreign army whose ranks do not include sons of that community.

Civil war? If it were to occur (although it takes two to tango, which is clearly not the case under the current circumstances), as Anatole France said, it would at least be less detestable than war with a foreign enemy, for one would at least know why one is fighting.

Our true tragedy lies elsewhere: we imagine ourselves to be the center of the world. Everything would revolve around us; the entire planet would be suspended from our slightest movements. Reality is far crueler: we are alone, and the world could not care less about Lebanon.

The day we understand that our navel-gazing has no place, that no one will consent on our behalf to the existence of a state, that law is not negotiable and sovereignty is not begged for, then perhaps we will stop waiting for permission to live.

For by constantly demanding everyone’s agreement in order to exist, we have ultimately consented collectively, once again, to our own disappearance…