Listen to the article
A year ago, the election of 13 “revolutionary” MPs was considered a victory by a vast majority of the country. People perceived this breakthrough as a step toward overthrowing the political order and reshuffling the cards of power. Expectations ran high for these relatively new figures, who were acclaimed as heroes and saviors for no achievement other than securing a spot in Parliament. A year later, these 13 MPs (now 12, after Faysal Karameh won the appeal for the invalidation of Rami Fanj’s tenure) have absolutely nothing to show for it.
It all started when these thirteen MPs, with little to no common ground, were thrust together to form a parliamentary bloc to face traditional political parties. The concept itself is surely commendable to a certain extent, but later proved to fail miserably. How can 13 people, with completely different and opposing political perspectives, share the same views to create a united front, regardless of their beliefs, values, and egos?
This “experiment” was doomed to tank from the outset. How could one expect someone like Paula Yacoubian, Melhem Khalaf, Halima Kaakour, Elias Jradi, Najat Saliba, Cynthia Zarazir, Ibrahim Mneimneh, Charbel Massaad, and Firas Hamdan to join forces with people like Marc Daou, Waddah Sadek, Rami Fanj, and Michel Douaihy? This alliance notably comes into question when a number of “key figures” of this so-called Change bloc fraternize and scheme with Hezbollah and Amal behind closed doors. These figures seem much more invested in furthering their ambitions and personal agendas than in voicing people’s struggles and taking the adequate course of action as they vowed to do during the 2022 paliamentary electoral race.
Some would say that criticizing the Change MPs would be unfair, arguing that the political deadlock and the economic crisis haven’t helped their case to successfully stand out. This point of view is completely moot. The Change MPs claimed that they were independent and assured that they would not be swayed by any sort of political pressure from their peers. However, they contributed to electing the same Speaker (who has been chairing this position for the past 30 years) and a deputy Speaker whose true allegiance remains a mystery. Once the disastrous presidential term of Michel Aoun ended, they took it upon themselves to come up with a list of prerequisites which they thought were valid criteria to elect the next head of State. This too resulted in utter failure, and the MPs were openly ridiculed for their naivete and lack of political acumen.
After exhausting all of their options, a handful of these MPs opted to take the populist route in order to come off as relatable, in an avid quest for exposure, popularity, and self-worth. Some posed as bank robbers, simulating a hold-up, while others preferred to impulsively plan a sit-in in Parliament, which didn’t rally enough backers within their ranks or from political allies. Of course, neither of these highly questionable choices led to concrete results, aside from being laughed at and mocked by their old supporters, the media, as well as the deeply rooted political establishment.
Furthermore, it is safe to say that the “Change” MPs are all noise and no action. Depth of thought and action planning is obviously not their forte, and their internal dissensions and battle of egos have undoubtedly furthered their demise. What could have been an opportunity to shake up the political scene and give traditional parties a run for their money, ended up being a couple of minutes of fame for a few wannabes who tried too hard to play the “revolution and opposition” card, consequentially compromising the country’s chance at real change.
In conclusion, it might be relevant to note that these members of Parliament are not responsible for Lebanon’s everlasting crises or for the State’s shortcomings. They are, however, accountable for not being proactive enough in helping to solve pressing political issues. Their performance review after a year in the Chamber is underwhelming at best.
