Sectarianism: A Manufactured Division, Not a Natural Reality

Al-Abed Clock Tower, Nejmeh Square, Beirut- All rights reserved by iancowe @Flicker

Sectarianism as Manufactured Control: Unmasking Division in the Middle East

    It is unfortunate that every time we think of the Middle East, sectarian divisions often come to mind. But here’s the twist: what if these divisions, so deeply ingrained today, weren't always this way? What if sectarianism, as we know it, is more of a carefully crafted tool of control than an inevitable outcome of history? In this article, we unpack how sectarianism has been manufactured and manipulated to divide societies, block reform, and protect the interests of those in power.

The Past Wasn’t Always Divided

    Contrary to what many might think, the Middle East wasn’t always split along sectarian lines. In fact, for centuries, communities of different religions and ethnicities coexisted peacefully. The belief that the region is naturally divided by sect is a relatively modern development—not an ancient truth.

   Take Lebanon, before the imposition of French rule in 1920, local governance followed a more inclusive model. The region was governed by leaders called mutasarrifs, who represented the diverse communities without dividing power strictly by religion. This meant political authority was more about addressing local needs than enforcing religious boundaries.

    This notion stands in stark contrast to the region’s historical reality, especially during the early Islamic period. For example, under the Rashidun Caliphate (632-661 CE), the newly unified Arab empire, which spanned from Spain to India, had no defined sectarian lines between its Muslim population. Early Muslim communities lived together with Christian, Jewish, and Zoroastrian communities, all governed by a set of laws that encouraged religious tolerance. The Pact of Umar, an agreement between the Muslims and the Christian population of Jerusalem, specifically protected religious freedoms, ensuring that Christians and Jews were not forced to convert to Islam.

Bayt al-Hikmah (House of Wisdom), 8th century CE Baghdad 

        Go further back as Islamic civilization expanded, Baghdad during the Abbasid Caliphate (750–1258 CE) became a center of cultural and intellectual activity, where scholars from different religious backgrounds, including Christians, Jews, and Muslims, worked together in the House of Wisdom. This intellectual unity was not just about tolerance; it was a necessary part of the empire’s functioning. Religious differences were secondary to the shared pursuit of knowledge and prosperity.

 to the Abbasid Caliphate (8th to 13th century), and you’ll find even more examples of cooperation. In Baghdad, the legendary House of Wisdom brought together scholars from all walks of life—Muslims, Christians, and Jews—to translate texts and push the boundaries of science, philosophy, and medicine. It was a golden age of shared knowledge, not sectarian strife.

    While tensions have always existed to some degree, history shows that the Middle East had long periods where coexistence—not division—was the norm. The real shift began with the arrival of colonial powers like the British and French. They drew artificial borders and established systems that favored certain groups over others. In doing so, they disrupted centuries of relative harmony and laid the foundation for the hardened sectarian identities we see today.

Divide and Rule: The Colonial Playbook

    The sharp sectarian divisions we see across the Middle East today didn't just happen on their own—they were largely engineered by colonial powers using a tactic known as "divide and rule." After the fall of the Ottoman Empire, the British and French stepped in and redrew the map of the region to suit their interests. In the process, they empowered certain groups over others, creating imbalances that sowed distrust and tension.

    In Iraq, for example, the British gave preference to Sunni Arabs in political and military roles, despite the fact that Shiites and Kurds made up a significant part of the population. This favoritism planted the seeds of resentment and rivalry that would shape Iraq’s modern history. Meanwhile, in Lebanon, the French favored the Maronite Christians, granting them key political privileges during the French Mandate (1920–1943). They formalized this by writing sectarian quotas into the political system—a move that entrenched religious identity in government and society. 

Greater Lebanon during the French mandate

    These colonial strategies weren’t just about politics—they were about control. By encouraging divisions, colonial powers made sure that no united front could challenge their authority. Communities became more inward-looking, and trust between different groups was deliberately eroded. Sectarian identities, once fluid and secondary, became hardened and central to how people saw themselves and others.

    The long-term result? A political landscape built not on shared national identity, but on sectarian calculations. Even after independence, many countries kept the systems put in place by colonial rulers. Sectarianism, once a colonial tool, became deeply rooted in local politics—making unity and reform harder to achieve.

Sectarianism from Within: How Local Elites Keep the System Alive

    After colonial powers left, one might have expected sectarian divisions to fade away. But instead, many local leaders doubled down on them. Why? Because keeping people divided by sect made it easier for elites to stay in power. By turning sectarian identity into a political strategy, they built loyal bases and avoided real accountability.

    Take Lebanon’s confessional system as an example. Since independence, key political and government positions have been divided up based on religious affiliation—the president must be a Maronite Christian, the prime minister a Sunni Muslim, and the speaker of parliament a Shia Muslim. On the surface, it might seem like a way to ensure balance, but in reality, it locks people into sect-based roles and discourages cooperation across community lines.

    Politicians in such systems often rely on sectarian loyalty more than public service. They build support through clientelist networks—distributing jobs, favors, and services to their own sectarian group in exchange for votes. This means resources are allocated not by need or merit, but by sect. It also means that if you don’t belong to the right group, you may be left out.

    The result? Reform becomes nearly impossible. Politicians fear losing their base if they push for national solutions that go beyond sectarian interests. And voters, in turn, often feel they have no choice but to support “their” group—even if the leaders are corrupt or ineffective—just to protect their community’s share of the pie.

The Taif Agreement, issued on September 30, 1989

    What’s even more frustrating is that these sectarian systems have proven time and again to be unsustainable. Lebanon’s own civil war (1975–1990) was fueled by sectarian power struggles—yet instead of replacing the system, the Taif Agreement of 1989 simply reshuffled sectarian quotas, reinforcing the very logic that led to conflict. It's maddening to think that after all the suffering, we’re still stuck with the same broken framework.

    In a system like this, real change is difficult. Cross-sectarian movements struggle to gain ground, and unity becomes the exception rather than the rule. Instead of building a shared national vision, politics becomes a never-ending tug-of-war between religious communities.

The Hidden Curriculum: Media and Education Fuel the Divide

    If politics lays the groundwork for sectarianism, then media and education are the tools that keep it alive and thriving. In many Middle Eastern countries, media outlets are openly affiliated with specific religious or political factions. They don’t just report the news—they spin it, each telling a different version of reality tailored to their audience’s sectarian identity. It’s like living in parallel universes.

    During major conflicts, this gets even worse. In the Syrian civil war, for instance, pro-government channels framed the opposition as Sunni extremists, while opposition-aligned media portrayed the regime as an Alawite dictatorship. The actual conflict—rooted in political repression and socio-economic inequality—was reduced to a religious clash, deepening mistrust between communities and feeding cycles of retaliation.

    In Lebanon’s 2008 clashes, media stations literally split screens: one channel aired religious chants and called for “resistance,” while another showed footage of gunmen roaming the streets. No context, no shared narrative—just raw emotion and fear. These portrayals don’t just inform; they inflame.

    Education doesn’t help much either. In many school systems across the region, curricula are selectively written to glorify certain sects, erase others, and gloss over shared histories. Young people grow up learning a skewed version of the past—one that emphasizes division rather than unity. In some cases, even basic historical facts are taught differently in different schools, depending on the sect that manages the institution.

    It’s no wonder that students graduate with deep-rooted biases and a limited sense of national identity. When the classroom becomes a breeding ground for division, what chance do future generations have to think beyond sect?

    And let’s not forget: this isn’t just about what is taught, but also about what is omitted. Stories of coexistence, shared struggles, and cross-sectarian solidarity are often ignored. It’s as if the very idea of unity is a threat to the status quo.

    The result? Generations grow up seeing sectarianism not as a political tool or historical accident, but as something “natural.” This normalization is perhaps the most dangerous aspect of all—it turns a manufactured system into a lived reality.

What Sectarianism Has Cost Us

    Sectarianism doesn't just sit quietly in the background—it's a system that touches every part of life in the Middle East, and the costs are steep. Socially, it dictates who people marry, where they live, which jobs they can get, and even which hospitals they trust. Many cities are unofficially divided into sect-based zones. This constant division chips away at trust between communities, leaving people to see “the other” not as a neighbor, but as a threat.

    Politically, the damage is just as deep. When political offices are handed out based on sect rather than merit, it becomes almost impossible to hold leaders accountable. Instead of voting for good governance, people are pressured to vote for “their” sect’s representative—often the same faces who’ve been in power for decades. This fosters corruption, cronyism, and stagnation. Cross-sectarian reform movements struggle to survive in this system because the structure itself is built to suppress unity.

    Economically, resources often flow through sectarian channels. Public sector jobs, housing projects, and social benefits are frequently allocated based on sectarian affiliations, not public need. This leads to unequal development and fuels resentment between groups. In Lebanon, for example, studies have shown that municipal and national development funds are often distributed unevenly along sectarian lines, undermining state legitimacy and worsening poverty in marginalized areas (Salamey & Tabar, 2008).

But Isn’t Sectarianism Just Part of Who We Are?

    Some argue that sectarianism is simply the product of centuries-old religious differences—that it’s inevitable. They point to historical theological disputes, such as the Sunni-Shia split after the Prophet Muhammad’s death, or to conflicts like the 1860 Mount Lebanon civil war, as evidence that the region has always been prone to religious strife. Others claim that sectarian power-sharing, while flawed, is the only way to keep the peace in diverse societies. They argue that without it, dominant groups might marginalize minorities, leading to even worse conflicts.

    These arguments are not without weight. For instance, during the 2005-2008 political crisis in Lebanon, the sectarian power-sharing framework arguably prevented the outbreak of full-scale civil war, as it forced rival factions to negotiate and maintain a balance of power (Knudsen & Kerr, 2012). Similarly, in post-2003 Iraq, many believed that giving Shiites, Sunnis, and Kurds a fixed share of political power would prevent the kind of authoritarianism seen under Saddam Hussein.

    But while these systems might appear to stabilize things in the short term, they often do more harm than good in the long run. As seen in previous sections, the idea that the region has always been sectarian doesn’t hold up. In the Abbasid era, diverse communities cooperated and contributed to knowledge and science together. Under the Ottoman millet system, different groups governed themselves without enforcing rigid separation. These historical examples prove that pluralism—not sectarianism—is closer to the region’s natural state.

    Moreover, modern examples show how sectarian power-sharing backfires. Lebanon’s Taif Agreement (1989), while intended to end civil war, reinforced sectarian quotas instead of transcending them. It locked communities into political silos and made reform nearly impossible. Thirty years later, the same system has led to economic collapse, political paralysis, and public outrage. If sectarianism was ever meant to be a temporary solution, it has certainly overstayed its welcome.

Breaking the Chains: A Future Beyond Sectarianism

    So, how do we move past this mess? First, we have to understand: sectarianism isn’t some ancient curse—it’s a man-made system, and what’s made by humans can be undone by humans too.

    Education must be the starting point. Imagine if schools across the Middle East taught history not as a battleground of religious groups, but as a rich, shared story of civilization. Young people need to see that their identities can be layered and complementary, not conflicting. Programs that promote civic education and critical thinking—like some initiatives supported by UNESCO—show real promise in breaking down inherited biases.

    Independent media is another key piece. Right now, much of the media landscape acts like a megaphone for sectarian politics. But it doesn’t have to be that way. We need media platforms that amplify stories of unity, shared struggles, and common dreams—media that reminds people they are citizens before they are sect members. Initiatives like SMEX in Lebanon are leading efforts to create more inclusive digital spaces and counter sectarian narratives.

    Most importantly, grassroots movements must continue pushing for cross-sectarian cooperation. The 2019 protests in Lebanon, Iraq, and Sudan showed what happens when people say, “Enough!”—when they demand jobs, dignity, and justice, not in the name of a sect, but for everyone. These movements weren’t perfect, but they proved that the appetite for real change is alive and well.

    Change won’t come overnight. It will be messy, frustrating, and sometimes heartbreaking. But it is possible. The real choice facing the Middle East today isn’t between Sunni and Shia, Muslim and Christian. It’s between staying trapped in the past—or daring to build a future where identity enriches society rather than tearing it apart.

    The walls that divide us were built with fear and power. It's about time we tear them down—with knowledge, courage, and solidarity.

Moving Beyond Manufactured Divisions

    Sectarianism today is less about ancient grudges and more about modern power plays. Recognizing it as an engineered system is the first step to dismantling it. The path forward involves promoting inclusive education, supporting independent media, and encouraging cross-sectarian civil movements that unite people around shared national goals rather than old divisions. It's not just a dream — it's a necessity for a future built on dignity, unity, and real self-determination.

References

• Dodge, T. (2012). Iraq: From war to a new authoritarianism. Routledge.
• Isakhan, B. (2015). Sectarianism and governance in Iraq: The post-2003 crisis. Middle East Journal, 69(2), 267-284.
• Lewis, B. (1990). The political language of Islam. University of Chicago Press.
• Lijphart, A. (1977). Democracy in plural societies: A comparative exploration. Yale University Press.
• Makdisi, U. (2000). The culture of sectarianism: Community, history, and violence in nineteenth-century Ottoman Lebanon. University of California Press.
• Masters, B. (2001). Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Arab world: The roots of sectarianism. Cambridge University Press.
• Phillips, C. (2016). The battle for Syria: International rivalry in the new Middle East. Yale University Press.
• Salibi, K. (1988). A house of many mansions: The history of Lebanon reconsidered. University of California Press.
• Transparency International. (2019). Corruption perceptions in Lebanon. Retrieved from https://www.transparency.org/en/countries/lebanon
• World Bank. (2015). Lebanon Systematic Country Diagnostic. Retrieved from https://www.worldbank.org/en/country/lebanon

Sectarianism as Manufactured Control: Unmasking Division in the Middle East

When you think of the Middle East, sectarian divisions often come to mind — Sunni vs. Shia, Christian vs. Muslim, and so on. But here’s the twist: what if these divisions, so deeply ingrained today, weren't always this way? What if sectarianism, as we know it, is more of a carefully crafted tool of control than an inevitable outcome of history? In this article, we unpack how sectarianism has been manufactured and manipulated to divide societies, block reform, and protect the interests of those in power.

The Past Wasn’t Always Divided

Contrary to what many might think, the Middle East wasn’t always split along sectarian lines. In fact, for centuries, communities of different religions and ethnicities coexisted peacefully. The belief that the region is naturally divided by sect is a relatively modern development—not an ancient truth.

Take the Ottoman Empire, which ruled from the 15th to the early 20th century. The Ottomans governed using the millet system, a unique approach that allowed religious groups—Muslims, Christians, and Jews—to manage their own affairs. They handled things like education, marriage laws, and religious rituals independently, preserving their identities while living side by side. In cosmopolitan cities like Istanbul, Baghdad, and Damascus, people of different faiths worked in the same markets, celebrated together, and exchanged ideas freely.

In Lebanon, before the imposition of French rule in 1920, local governance followed a more inclusive model. The region was governed by leaders called mutasarrifs, who represented the diverse communities without dividing power strictly by religion. This meant political authority was more about addressing local needs than enforcing religious boundaries.

Go further back to the Abbasid Caliphate (8th to 13th century), and you’ll find even more examples of cooperation. In Baghdad, the legendary House of Wisdom brought together scholars from all walks of life—Muslims, Christians, and Jews—to translate texts and push the boundaries of science, philosophy, and medicine. It was a golden age of shared knowledge, not sectarian strife.

While tensions have always existed to some degree, history shows that the Middle East had long periods where coexistence—not division—was the norm. The real shift began with the arrival of colonial powers like the British and French. They drew artificial borders and established systems that favored certain groups over others. In doing so, they disrupted centuries of relative harmony and laid the foundation for the hardened sectarian identities we see today.

Divide and Rule: The Colonial Playbook

The sharp sectarian divisions we see across the Middle East today didn't just happen on their own—they were largely engineered by colonial powers using a tactic known as "divide and rule." After the fall of the Ottoman Empire, the British and French stepped in and redrew the map of the region to suit their interests. In the process, they empowered certain groups over others, creating imbalances that sowed distrust and tension.

In Iraq, for example, the British gave preference to Sunni Arabs in political and military roles, despite the fact that Shiites and Kurds made up a significant part of the population. This favoritism planted the seeds of resentment and rivalry that would shape Iraq’s modern history. Meanwhile, in Lebanon, the French favored the Maronite Christians, granting them key political privileges during the French Mandate (1920–1943). They formalized this by writing sectarian quotas into the political system—a move that entrenched religious identity in government and society.

These colonial strategies weren’t just about politics—they were about control. By encouraging divisions, colonial powers made sure that no united front could challenge their authority. Communities became more inward-looking, and trust between different groups was deliberately eroded. Sectarian identities, once fluid and secondary, became hardened and central to how people saw themselves and others.

The long-term result? A political landscape built not on shared national identity, but on sectarian calculations. Even after independence, many countries kept the systems put in place by colonial rulers. Sectarianism, once a colonial tool, became deeply rooted in local politics—making unity and reform harder to achieve.

Sectarianism from Within: How Local Elites Keep the System Alive

After colonial powers left, one might have expected sectarian divisions to fade away. But instead, many local leaders doubled down on them. Why? Because keeping people divided by sect made it easier for elites to stay in power. By turning sectarian identity into a political strategy, they built loyal bases and avoided real accountability.

Take Lebanon’s confessional system as an example. Since independence, key political and government positions have been divided up based on religious affiliation—the president must be a Maronite Christian, the prime minister a Sunni Muslim, and the speaker of parliament a Shia Muslim. On the surface, it might seem like a way to ensure balance, but in reality, it locks people into sect-based roles and discourages cooperation across community lines.

Politicians in such systems often rely on sectarian loyalty more than public service. They build support through clientelist networks—distributing jobs, favors, and services to their own sectarian group in exchange for votes. This means resources are allocated not by need or merit, but by sect. It also means that if you don’t belong to the right group, you may be left out.

The result? Reform becomes nearly impossible. Politicians fear losing their base if they push for national solutions that go beyond sectarian interests. And voters, in turn, often feel they have no choice but to support “their” group—even if the leaders are corrupt or ineffective—just to protect their community’s share of the pie.

What’s even more frustrating is that these sectarian systems have proven time and again to be unsustainable. Lebanon’s own civil war (1975–1990) was fueled by sectarian power struggles—yet instead of replacing the system, the Taif Agreement of 1989 simply reshuffled sectarian quotas, reinforcing the very logic that led to conflict. It's maddening to think that after all the suffering, we’re still stuck with the same broken framework.

In a system like this, real change is difficult. Cross-sectarian movements struggle to gain ground, and unity becomes the exception rather than the rule. Instead of building a shared national vision, politics becomes a never-ending tug-of-war between religious communities.

The Hidden Curriculum: Media and Education Fuel the Divide

If politics lays the groundwork for sectarianism, then media and education are the tools that keep it alive and thriving. In many Middle Eastern countries, media outlets are openly affiliated with specific religious or political factions. They don’t just report the news—they spin it, each telling a different version of reality tailored to their audience’s sectarian identity. It’s like living in parallel universes.

During major conflicts, this gets even worse. In the Syrian civil war, for instance, pro-government channels framed the opposition as Sunni extremists, while opposition-aligned media portrayed the regime as an Alawite dictatorship. The actual conflict—rooted in political repression and socio-economic inequality—was reduced to a religious clash, deepening mistrust between communities and feeding cycles of retaliation.

In Lebanon’s 2008 clashes, media stations literally split screens: one channel aired religious chants and called for “resistance,” while another showed footage of gunmen roaming the streets. No context, no shared narrative—just raw emotion and fear. These portrayals don’t just inform; they inflame.

Education doesn’t help much either. In many school systems across the region, curricula are selectively written to glorify certain sects, erase others, and gloss over shared histories. Young people grow up learning a skewed version of the past—one that emphasizes division rather than unity. In some cases, even basic historical facts are taught differently in different schools, depending on the sect that manages the institution.

It’s no wonder that students graduate with deep-rooted biases and a limited sense of national identity. When the classroom becomes a breeding ground for division, what chance do future generations have to think beyond sect?

And let’s not forget: this isn’t just about what is taught, but also about what is omitted. Stories of coexistence, shared struggles, and cross-sectarian solidarity are often ignored. It’s as if the very idea of unity is a threat to the status quo.

The result? Generations grow up seeing sectarianism not as a political tool or historical accident, but as something “natural.” This normalization is perhaps the most dangerous aspect of all—it turns a manufactured system into a lived reality.

What Sectarianism Has Cost Us

Sectarianism doesn't just sit quietly in the background—it's a system that touches every part of life in the Middle East, and the costs are steep. Socially, it dictates who people marry, where they live, which jobs they can get, and even which hospitals they trust. Many cities are unofficially divided into sect-based zones. This constant division chips away at trust between communities, leaving people to see “the other” not as a neighbor, but as a threat.

Politically, the damage is just as deep. When political offices are handed out based on sect rather than merit, it becomes almost impossible to hold leaders accountable. Instead of voting for good governance, people are pressured to vote for “their” sect’s representative—often the same faces who’ve been in power for decades. This fosters corruption, cronyism, and stagnation. Cross-sectarian reform movements struggle to survive in this system because the structure itself is built to suppress unity.

Economically, resources often flow through sectarian channels. Public sector jobs, housing projects, and social benefits are frequently allocated based on sectarian affiliations, not public need. This leads to unequal development and fuels resentment between groups. In Lebanon, for example, studies have shown that municipal and national development funds are often distributed unevenly along sectarian lines, undermining state legitimacy and worsening poverty in marginalized areas (Salamey & Tabar, 2008).

But Isn’t Sectarianism Just Part of Who We Are?

Some argue that sectarianism is simply the product of centuries-old religious differences—that it’s inevitable. They point to historical theological disputes, such as the Sunni-Shia split after the Prophet Muhammad’s death, or to conflicts like the 1860 Mount Lebanon civil war, as evidence that the region has always been prone to religious strife. Others claim that sectarian power-sharing, while flawed, is the only way to keep the peace in diverse societies. They argue that without it, dominant groups might marginalize minorities, leading to even worse conflicts.

These arguments are not without weight. For instance, during the 2005-2008 political crisis in Lebanon, the sectarian power-sharing framework arguably prevented the outbreak of full-scale civil war, as it forced rival factions to negotiate and maintain a balance of power (Knudsen & Kerr, 2012). Similarly, in post-2003 Iraq, many believed that giving Shiites, Sunnis, and Kurds a fixed share of political power would prevent the kind of authoritarianism seen under Saddam Hussein.

But while these systems might appear to stabilize things in the short term, they often do more harm than good in the long run. As seen in previous sections, the idea that the region has always been sectarian doesn’t hold up. In the Abbasid era, diverse communities cooperated and contributed to knowledge and science together. Under the Ottoman millet system, different groups governed themselves without enforcing rigid separation. These historical examples prove that pluralism—not sectarianism—is closer to the region’s natural state.

Moreover, modern examples show how sectarian power-sharing backfires. Lebanon’s Taif Agreement (1989), while intended to end civil war, reinforced sectarian quotas instead of transcending them. It locked communities into political silos and made reform nearly impossible. Thirty years later, the same system has led to economic collapse, political paralysis, and public outrage. If sectarianism was ever meant to be a temporary solution, it has certainly overstayed its welcome.

Breaking the Chains: A Future Beyond Sectarianism

So, how do we move past this mess? First, we have to understand: sectarianism isn’t some ancient curse—it’s a man-made system, and what’s made by humans can be undone by humans too.

Education must be the starting point. Imagine if schools across the Middle East taught history not as a battleground of religious groups, but as a rich, shared story of civilization. Young people need to see that their identities can be layered and complementary, not conflicting. Programs that promote civic education and critical thinking—like some initiatives supported by UNESCO—show real promise in breaking down inherited biases.

Independent media is another key piece. Right now, much of the media landscape acts like a megaphone for sectarian politics. But it doesn’t have to be that way. We need media platforms that amplify stories of unity, shared struggles, and common dreams—media that reminds people they are citizens before they are sect members. Initiatives like SMEX in Lebanon are leading efforts to create more inclusive digital spaces and counter sectarian narratives.

Most importantly, grassroots movements must continue pushing for cross-sectarian cooperation. The 2019 protests in Lebanon, Iraq, and Sudan showed what happens when people say, “Enough!”—when they demand jobs, dignity, and justice, not in the name of a sect, but for everyone. These movements weren’t perfect, but they proved that the appetite for real change is alive and well.

Change won’t come overnight. It will be messy, frustrating, and sometimes heartbreaking. But it is possible. The real choice facing the Middle East today isn’t between Sunni and Shia, Muslim and Christian. It’s between staying trapped in the past—or daring to build a future where identity enriches society rather than tearing it apart.

The walls that divide us were built with fear and power. It's about time we tear them down—with knowledge, courage, and solidarity.

Moving Beyond Manufactured Divisions

Sectarianism today is less about ancient grudges and more about modern power plays. Recognizing it as an engineered system is the first step to dismantling it. The path forward involves promoting inclusive education, supporting independent media, and encouraging cross-sectarian civil movements that unite people around shared national goals rather than old divisions. It's not just a dream — it's a necessity for a future built on dignity, unity, and real self-determination.

References

• Dodge, T. (2012). Iraq: From war to a new authoritarianism. Routledge.
• Isakhan, B. (2015). Sectarianism and governance in Iraq: The post-2003 crisis. Middle East Journal, 69(2), 267-284.
• Lewis, B. (1990). The political language of Islam. University of Chicago Press.
• Lijphart, A. (1977). Democracy in plural societies: A comparative exploration. Yale University Press.
• Makdisi, U. (2000). The culture of sectarianism: Community, history, and violence in nineteenth-century Ottoman Lebanon. University of California Press.
• Masters, B. (2001). Christians and Jews in the Ottoman Arab world: The roots of sectarianism. Cambridge University Press.
• Phillips, C. (2016). The battle for Syria: International rivalry in the new Middle East. Yale University Press.
• Salibi, K. (1988). A house of many mansions: The history of Lebanon reconsidered. University of California Press.
• Transparency International. (2019). Corruption perceptions in Lebanon. Retrieved from https://www.transparency.org/en/countries/lebanon
• World Bank. (2015). Lebanon Systematic Country Diagnostic. Retrieved from https://www.worldbank.org/en/country/lebanon