The leader of the Lebanese Forces, Samir Geagea, in Maarab in 2022. (Credit: Joseph Eid/AFP)
On the evening of the final round of municipal elections, Saturday, May 24, the political landscape could be summed up simply: one clear winner, many losers. That winner is Samir Geagea — president of the Lebanese Forces party, former militia leader, and once again a central figure in Lebanese politics.
So what did Geagea do to reestablish himself at the heart of the national political game, to the point that his fortress in Maarab, perched in a rugged corner of Kesrouan, has become a required stop for local delegations and foreign diplomats alike? In truth, not much — other than wait and watch as ripe, sometimes rotting, fruit fell from the tree.
“Are you sure your electoral law proposal would allow us to have elected representatives in areas where we are a minority?” That question, raised during a closed-door meeting with journalists and experts more than a decade ago, reflects Geagea’s deep understanding of Lebanese electoral mechanics. He’s a firm believer in elective democracy — but more so in the value of owning a sizable parliamentary bloc.
Since his release from prison in July 2005, following the Cedar Revolution and the withdrawal of Syrian troops, Geagea has steadily expanded his political base. His bloc eventually became the largest in Parliament, even as others rose and fell. His success in the latest municipal elections, despite minor setbacks in places like Hadath (Baabda) and Jezzine, is the cherry on top — potentially setting the stage for another strong performance in next year’s legislative vote.
A victory over the Free Patriotic Movement
Geagea’s rise was far from inevitable. In 2005, he was a marginal Christian figure, while his rival, Michel Aoun, returned from exile to sweep the elections in a self-proclaimed “tsunami.” Over time, Geagea cemented his place in the March 14 coalition, alongside Amine Gemayel, Saad Hariri, and Walid Joumblatt. But the Christian electorate — roughly 70 percent of it — remained loyal to the coalition surrounding Aoun’s Free Patriotic Movement (FPM), the Tashnag, Sleiman Frangieh’s Marada, and the Murr clan.
Then came the turning point: Aoun’s 2006 alliance with Hezbollah. From that moment, his popularity began a slow decline. Yet it didn’t stop him from reaching the pinnacle of his career in October 2016, when he was elected president. But his support continued to erode. The FPM’s share of the Christian vote shrank to 50 percent by 2009, and in subsequent municipal elections, the party lost ground in Mount Lebanon.
Today, the political map has changed. The 2017 electoral law — adopted during Aoun’s presidency — favored both the Lebanese Forces and the FPM, giving them more than a third of parliamentary seats. But the FPM’s electoral base, now led by Gebran Bassil, continues to contract.
Geagea, like many of Aoun’s critics, sees this decline as inevitable. How could it not be, he argues, when the FPM allied itself with Hezbollah, effectively asking its supporters to turn away from the Christian community’s historic sovereignty-focused principles? There have always been pro-Syrian factions among Christians — the SSNP, for instance — but they never commanded a majority. The FPM did.
Still, Geagea rarely acted to accelerate the FPM’s fall. While he sometimes took bold stances — such as his “Let the Islamists govern!” remark during the Arab Spring — he often exercised caution. This was evident when he flirted with the controversial “Orthodox Law” in 2012–13, a sectarian electoral proposal that would have carved up Parliament by religious group. Under pressure from Sunni and Druze allies, the Lebanese Forces eventually pulled back.
There were other moments of hesitation. Geagea echoed Bassil’s populist rhetoric on Syrian refugees, joining in xenophobic-tinged campaigns that many saw as pandering to identity politics. And in 2016, he supported Aoun’s presidential bid — even bringing Saad Hariri along. That partnership never took off. Hariri is now sidelined, and all Geagea gained was symbolic support from a Saudi Arabia increasingly disengaged from Lebanon.
Still, one outcome of that risky endorsement did pay off: a reconciliation between Lebanese Forces and FPM supporters, who had been at odds since the end of the civil war. Today, the two parties remain rivals, but tensions between their bases have cooled.
In the end, what Geagea didn’t do to weaken Aounism, Lebanon’s crises did. The financial collapse of 2019, followed by the catastrophic Beirut port explosions, devastated Aoun’s presidency, which ended in October 2022 under a cloud of despair. Even the maritime border deal with Israel did little to salvage his legacy.
Facing Hezbollah and the Protest Movement
Now, Geagea has positioned himself as the leading face of the anti-Hezbollah bloc. Yet rather than charging into the fray, he opts for strategic restraint. After learning from the 2016 experience, he has responded to Hezbollah’s presidential blockade with a counter-blockade — signaling he is ready to hold out indefinitely, even if it means Lebanon remains without a president.
Just as the financial collapse weakened Aoun, the aftermath of Oct. 7 and its regional repercussions may now unravel Hezbollah’s dominance among Christians — even within the FPM.
Geagea also appears to have quietly outlasted another rival: Lebanon’s 2019 protest movement. From the start, his party maintained ambiguous ties to the thawra. Some activists saw him as an unlikely ally — after all, the Lebanese Forces often nominated capable, reform-minded ministers. Others rejected him entirely, unable to move past his wartime history.
Geagea dismissed the protest slogan “kellon yaane kellon” (“all of them means all of them”) as an unfair generalization, preferring to differentiate between “good” and “less good” politicians. Nevertheless, he remained more credible on reforms than most establishment leaders.
The Lebanese Forces’ recent win of the deputy mayor’s seat in Beirut — contrasted with the underwhelming results of the Beirut Madinati list — symbolically closes that chapter.
Still no monopoly on Christian politics
Even with these successive victories, Geagea cannot claim to monopolize the Christian street. Pluralism — or fragmentation — has long defined Lebanon’s Christian political arena. The highs of Camille Chamoun in the 1950s, Bachir Gemayel during the war, and Michel Aoun in 1989 and 2005 never erased rival voices. They only quieted them temporarily.
Today’s municipal results are no exception. The Lebanese Forces are in the lead — that much is clear — but Aounism has not conceded, and the Kataeb Party remains a factor, sometimes an ally, sometimes a challenger. Family dynasties and local notables still matter. And with a year to go before legislative elections, new faces may yet emerge.
