Pope Leo XIV’s visit to Lebanon was not a religious occasion that Lebanese people could simply move beyond and forget. It became a mirror that, in just three days, exposed what Lebanon has been trying to hide for decades. In a country that has mastered the art of adorning ruin, Lebanon suddenly seem capable of everything it has long claimed impossible since the collapse: repaving roads overnight wherever the Pope’s motorcade would pass, providing electricity, organizing thousands of volunteers, mobilizing hundreds of thousands, and ensuring security after having consistently failed to protect politicians and judges, apprehend a smuggler, or uphold a judicial verdict. It was akin to declaring that Lebanon is not a failed state, but a state that chooses failure whenever it can without harming its image.
The Lebanon we saw during the visit is a deceptive facade the ruling authorities rush to erect whenever they need to put on a show for the world. The issue is not this fleeting improvement but what it reveals: the country does not lack capabilities, but rather the will to use them. It does not suffer from organizational weaknesses but excessive deliberate obstruction. The Lebanese are not incapable of mobilizing; they are incapable of mobilizing to confront existential threats and defend their rights. “Incapacity” is a policy: the Lebanese authority and people prefer to remain in limbo, caught between an absent state and a festive facade that conceals decay without addressing it.
Regarding the Pope’s visit, the state suddenly becomes a real state: administrations fall into line, security agencies coordinate without confusion, municipalities activate their functions, the media speaks with one voice, and political quarrels halt. But once the guest departs, that state collapses again, and the country goes back to its old habits: sects lurking and waiting for an opportunity to pounce on the others, electricity cut off, institutions shattered, and exhausted citizens who can no longer defend their right to bread, medicine, or schooling. How can a people who remain silent while being deprived of healthcare, education, electricity, and water pour into the streets by the thousands to greet the Pope? How can a regime that has been collapsing for decades present itself to the world as a stable country capable of welcoming the head of the Catholic Church?
The contrast goes beyond logistics; it extends to state discourse. Officials avoided politics altogether, perhaps because politics the scandal that can no longer be adorned. They merely recycled slogans that have turned into linguistic statues: political cosmetics that lost their meaning as practice contradicted them: “Lebanon the message,” “Lebanon the resilient,” “Lebanon the model of coexistence.” A Lebanon of message, resilience, and model does not threaten a judge investigating the crime of the century, does not surrender its economy to oligarchs, and is not ruled by weapons outside the authority of the state.
The Pope, a spiritual leader, seemed the most politically clear. He did not say that Lebanon is a “message,” but that it is a “responsibility.” He did not call for coexistence as a slogan, but for “real peace” reinforced by laws and institutions, not speeches and ceremonies. He urged the Lebanese to reconcile before asking the world to stand with them, and to move from the illusion of their historic role to the practice of a modern state of rights, not of myths. He called for a peace that ends inter-sectarian and intra-sectarian divisions, and for peace that would move Lebanon from the trenches to the state. He did not treat Lebanon as a symbol, but as an unfinished state that requires determination to build, not celebrations that hums ballads over ruins.
The Pope’s choice for his visit’s motto, “Blessed are the peacemakers,” was not a rhetorical tactic but the essence of his message. The word “peace” was the nucleus of his speeches; he repeated it with deliberate cadence, as though he were seeking to replace the lexicon of war with one of peace. He called on the Lebanese to join the regional peace process not as spectators but as actors, and to build peace within the country to heal sectarian wounds, as well as striving for peace with their neighbors and the world.
The height of the paradox peaked with Hezbollah’s presence. The party, which took part in the reception ceremonies, seemed to blend into the mosaic of “Lebanese unity” even as its actions undermine most basic conditions for unity on a daily basis. How can a force that seizes decision-making and obstructs justice celebrate the visit of a man calling for a single state, a single law, and justice? This symbolic embrace of his visit coincides with behavior that entrenches division and embodies the Lebanese model: importing symbolism while burying meaning, participating in rituals while refusing to engage with their message.
The Pope did not need three days to understand that Lebanon is not incapable but chooses incapacity. It is a country governed by the logic of ceremony, not the logic of institution- the logic of the moment, not the logic of continuity. It does not build policies but occasions. It does not establish a system but adds cosmetics that are taken down as soon as the show ends. It rises efficiently when the world is watching, only to return to collapse once the spotlight fades. The problem is not one of ability but the discretion in using this ability to decorate reality rather than change it. The state performs its role when guests arrive, then forgets this role when they depart. The question is: do the Lebanese want a real state, or are they happy with merely having occasions that reflect the image they imagine for themselves? As always, Lebanon chose the easier answer: appearance over structure, spectacle over action, scenery over the state.
