What do Lebanese think about pro-Trump and pro-Massad Boulos posters?

The appointment of Lebanese businessman Massad Boulos — the father of U.S. President Donald Trump's son-in-law — as White House adviser for Arab and Middle Eastern affairs, has sparked admiration mixed with fascination in Lebanon. On the day of Trump's election, residents of Kfar Akka in Koura, North Lebanon, Boulos' hometown, threw rice in the streets, a tradition symbolizing their wishes for prosperity and happiness.

The villagers went far beyond normal celebrations, instead crowning his wife, Sarah Boulos, as “first lady” of Lebanon. At the entrance of the village, the municipality had hung banners expressing pride “in its son, Dr. Massad Boulos” and “full of hope in his ability to pull the country out of the abyss.”

You can’t miss the massive pro-Boulos and pro-Trump posters lining the highway between Beirut and Tripoli, or the banners of the duo covering bridges along the road in Dora, Zouk, Jbeil and other locations. Tony Fayad, a businessman from North Lebanon, is mentioned as the financier of this campaign.

Elsewhere, notably in Achrafieh’s Mar Mitr neighborhood, newly elected President Joseph Aoun — sworn in on Jan. 9 — is featured alongside the slogan “Make Lebanon Great Again,” a bold nod to Donald Trump’s signature campaign message, “Make America Great Again.” Critics have derided these displays as “visual pollution,” “tasteless advertising,” and even “pathetically funny,” with many seeing them as a “sign of ignorance” or a “typical Lebanese form of submission.”

For Rami*, a Beirut resident, the presence of Tiffany Trump’s father-in-law in the U.S. administration could have “positive repercussions for Lebanon by facilitating lobbying efforts with Gulf countries to reinvest in the Lebanese scene.” However, despite his “prestigious” position, Rami argues that this does not justify glorifying Boulos or “plastering his face across Lebanese territory.”

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Some, like Mariam, hope that Boulos can influence Trump to advocate for Lebanon. “Even the slightest influence could benefit the country,” she says, adding that she is not “necessarily bothered” by the posters, which depict “a man with a successful career — unlike our politicians, who are not only corrupt but also criminals.”

Nicolas, from Amioun in Koura, believes Boulos’ role remains “limited,” as Trump is surrounded by numerous advisers, including figures close to Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. “The most powerful man on the planet is not going to prioritize Lebanon’s interests over Israel’s just because of Massad Boulos,” he says, joking that Boulos is not “the Messiah” to warrant seeing his face every morning on the way to work.

On X, one user asks, “Why are we like this?” — suggesting a degrading or absurd attitude, accompanied by photos of the duo. Another expresses embarrassment, calling the posters a “form of submission to foreign powers.”

A ‘Lebanese-style’ behavior

Jad Chahrour, spokesperson for the SKeyes Foundation for Press Freedom, says some Lebanese — “across all communities”—see Trump and Boulos as potential saviors amid the country’s deepening crises. “For the past five years, Lebanon has been sinking into a multi-faceted crisis — economic, political and security-related — exacerbated by the recent war between Hezbollah and Israel,” he says. “The Lebanese think Trump and Boulos will liberate them from this crisis.”

“While the Lebanese have a history of choosing the wrong political leaders, they are always searching for a hero,” Chahrour continues. “That’s what Trump represents for many here — his populism and ultra-nationalism make him seem like someone who defends the interests of his people.”

“At one point, Carlos Ghosn, the former CEO of Renault-Nissan, was seen as a hero and a potential leader for Lebanon,” he notes, recalling that “behind that image was a man who fled Japan to escape corruption charges,” Chahrour argues that Lebanese society continues to seek a heroic figure, much like past generations saw in leaders such as Bachir Gemayel, Rafik Hariri, or Hassan Nasrallah.

Leila al-Ali, a sociology researcher at the Ministry of Education, believes this phenomenon is deeply ingrained. “It’s in the DNA of the Lebanese people to feel proud when one of their own makes a name for themselves internationally — even if they don’t speak the language or have never lived in Lebanon,” she says. However, she stresses the importance of truly “understanding the character of these figures and assessing their real potential before glorifying them in Lebanese fashion.”