At a critical political and constitutional juncture, as Lebanon’s parliamentary elections edge dangerously close to uncertainty, one reality has become increasingly clear: the path to salvation is no longer dispersed among institutions, it now lies squarely in the hands of the President of the Republic. The pressing and unavoidable question is simple: will he act?
This is no longer a technical disagreement or a procedural debate. Constitutional deadlines are being exhausted, and political rights most notably the right of Lebanese expatriates to vote are subordinated to narrow political calculations. In this context, the President faces an inescapable responsibility: either intervene using his constitutional powers, or allow the electoral process to slide into the unknown.
The Constitution leaves little room for interpretation. Article 49 designates the President as the guardian of the Constitution not a passive observer of its violation. Article 53, paragraph 10, explicitly grants him the authority to address messages to Parliament, a power designed precisely for moments of institutional paralysis, not one meant to remain dormant. Moreover, Article 154 of Parliament’s internal rules transforms such a presidential message into a binding constitutional mechanism, obliging the Speaker to convene the General Assembly within three days.
Put plainly: a presidential message is not a political gesture... it is a constitutional act of rescue.
Today, following the referral of the government’s urgent draft electoral law to parliamentary committees despite its urgent nature and in clear disregard of looming deadlines, it has become evident that there is a deliberate attempt to push elections toward systematic obstruction. This reality cannot be confronted through delay, silence, or appeals alone; it can only be addressed by activating the constitutional authority that already exists.
This brings us directly to the core question: what is preventing the President from taking this step?
Various justifications are offered: preserving “political balances,” avoiding confrontation, maintaining the President’s so-called “consensual” role, or reluctance to clash with the Speaker of Parliament, Nabih Berri. Yet a more fundamental question must be asked: is the President expected to remain a silent referee while the foundations of democratic life are being undermined? Or is his constitutional role, at moments like these, to intervene decisively in defense of deadlines, rights, and institutional integrity?
Refraining from exercising this authority cannot be interpreted as neutrality. Rather, it constitutes tacit acceptance of obstruction and a practical abandonment of one of the last constitutional safeguards available. Conversely, addressing Parliament today does not amount to overreach; it is a faithful application of the Constitution and a clear defense of Lebanese citizens’ right at home and abroad to renew political representation without restriction or dilution.
The question, therefore, becomes sharper and more direct: will the President seize this historic moment and prevent the derailment of elections, or will he allow this opportunity to pass, as so many have before?
At moments like these, presidencies are not measured by rhetoric or declared intentions, but by decisions. Lebanese history is filled with missed opportunities—moments lost because those entrusted with authority hesitated to use it. Today, salvation lies in the hands of the President. The power exists. The constitutional text is clear. Time is running out.
Will he act?
This is no longer a technical disagreement or a procedural debate. Constitutional deadlines are being exhausted, and political rights most notably the right of Lebanese expatriates to vote are subordinated to narrow political calculations. In this context, the President faces an inescapable responsibility: either intervene using his constitutional powers, or allow the electoral process to slide into the unknown.
The Constitution leaves little room for interpretation. Article 49 designates the President as the guardian of the Constitution not a passive observer of its violation. Article 53, paragraph 10, explicitly grants him the authority to address messages to Parliament, a power designed precisely for moments of institutional paralysis, not one meant to remain dormant. Moreover, Article 154 of Parliament’s internal rules transforms such a presidential message into a binding constitutional mechanism, obliging the Speaker to convene the General Assembly within three days.
Put plainly: a presidential message is not a political gesture... it is a constitutional act of rescue.
Today, following the referral of the government’s urgent draft electoral law to parliamentary committees despite its urgent nature and in clear disregard of looming deadlines, it has become evident that there is a deliberate attempt to push elections toward systematic obstruction. This reality cannot be confronted through delay, silence, or appeals alone; it can only be addressed by activating the constitutional authority that already exists.
This brings us directly to the core question: what is preventing the President from taking this step?
Various justifications are offered: preserving “political balances,” avoiding confrontation, maintaining the President’s so-called “consensual” role, or reluctance to clash with the Speaker of Parliament, Nabih Berri. Yet a more fundamental question must be asked: is the President expected to remain a silent referee while the foundations of democratic life are being undermined? Or is his constitutional role, at moments like these, to intervene decisively in defense of deadlines, rights, and institutional integrity?
Refraining from exercising this authority cannot be interpreted as neutrality. Rather, it constitutes tacit acceptance of obstruction and a practical abandonment of one of the last constitutional safeguards available. Conversely, addressing Parliament today does not amount to overreach; it is a faithful application of the Constitution and a clear defense of Lebanese citizens’ right at home and abroad to renew political representation without restriction or dilution.
The question, therefore, becomes sharper and more direct: will the President seize this historic moment and prevent the derailment of elections, or will he allow this opportunity to pass, as so many have before?
At moments like these, presidencies are not measured by rhetoric or declared intentions, but by decisions. Lebanese history is filled with missed opportunities—moments lost because those entrusted with authority hesitated to use it. Today, salvation lies in the hands of the President. The power exists. The constitutional text is clear. Time is running out.
Will he act?
