Revolution or Rebellion? October 17 still a day to remember

Six years have passed since October 17 the day a revolution began. What was triggered by a proposed tax on WhatsApp calls quickly evolved into a nationwide reckoning with decades of corruption, economic decline, and political paralysis. The tax was not the cause merely the spark that ignited years of silent frustration.

That night in 2019, the silence ended. From Beirut to Tripoli, from Tyre to Zahle, millions flooded the streets within days, nearly a quarter of the population joined one of the largest popular uprisings in the country’s modern history. For weeks, public squares became arenas of defiance, solidarity, and hope.

Chants filled the air, murals carried the words of a generation, and anger momentarily turned into unity. But the pulse that once filled the streets began to fade until its voice was completely silenced.

The Beiruter revisits October 17 to ask: What remains of that moment today? Did the revolution succeed or fail and if it failed, why? Beyond the slogans and the headlines. These are the questions The Beiruter set out to explore.

“The revolution didn’t die, it was killed”

Among the few elected voices to emerge from the uprising’s spirit, MP Michel Douaihy offers a stark diagnosis:

The revolution didn’t die it was killed, by the same people who have been killing the country for decades.

He describes October 17 as a “moment of collective awakening” a glimpse of a Lebanon beyond sectarianism. “For the first time, people identified as citizens, not followers. But that terrified the system. So they did what they do best: they divided, infiltrated, and exhausted us.”

According to Douaihy, the regime’s counterattack was strategic and patient. “They weaponized despair. They waited for hunger, for the economic collapse, for people to return to their daily struggles. The revolution didn’t fail because it lacked courage it failed because it faced a regime willing to burn the country to survive.”

He recalls the crucial turning point: “In the first few days, everyone was in the streets. Then Hezbollah’s leadership told its supporters to withdraw. After that came the violent attacks on protesters, the tents torn down in Riad al-Solh, the clashes on the Ring. That’s when the revolution began to break.”

Douaihy believes Hezbollah’s intervention was decisive: “None of the other ruling powers dared to face it head-on. Hezbollah did, and that’s what broke the movement. Without that, the revolution could have achieved much more.”

Still, he sees political progress: “The MPs who emerged from October 17 especially those focused on sovereignty have taken real stands, such as blocking Hezbollah’s presidential candidate and pushing for judicial independence, banking transparency, and state authority over all arms. They’re small steps, but after decades of paralysis, they matter.”

The revolution from the other side

Dr. Rami Najem, a member of the Amal Movement, offers a different perspective. “What happened on October 17 was supported or encouraged by foreign entities,” he told The Beiruter. “We saw certain kinds of support and rhetoric being spread. But ultimately, in its nature and spontaneity, it was a cry an expression of pain and frustration.”

He described both declared and undeclared motives behind the protests:

The declared reason was the government’s decision to impose new taxes on calls, gasoline, daily life. These drove people to the streets. But there were also undeclared reasons, and the time has not yet come to reveal them.

His words reveal the establishment’s unease a recognition that beneath the surface of slogans lay something far more unsettling: a confrontation with the country’s unspoken truths.

The moral revolution

For Antoine El Khoury, journalist and former mayor, October 17 was nothing less than a revolution ethical before political. “I took part every day,” he said. “It wasn’t sectarian. In Lebanon, everything is defined by sects, but this wasn’t. It had no leader, no spokesperson. That was its strength and what frightened the establishment most.”

He remembers the smear campaigns that followed: “They tried to demonize the movement, accuse it of being funded by embassies. But everyone was there all kinds of people. The violence came from Amal and Hezbollah. In the beginning, Hezbollah didn’t interfere, but later they used force tearing down tents, burning everything.”

Asked why the revolution failed, he didn’t hesitate: “The system was stronger. They have all the power, money, weapons. Hezbollah has arms. They crushed it by force.”

Yet, even as his tone turned somber, his memory softened: “They were beautiful moments in Lebanon’s history. People say the MPs who came from October 17 failed, but they were never one party or bloc. They came from different ideas. You can’t measure success or failure so narrowly. They simply didn’t let it reach its end.” He paused. “They call it a failure, but you can’t erase what happened. October 17 was a moral revolution an awakening. When people rise up for honesty, for decency, that’s a moral act. It awakened political awareness. That’s its legacy.”

The insider’s reflection

An anonymous source politically active during the October 17 movement reflected on its decline: “From my point of view, it was a regression,” he said. “Alongside the losses and breakdowns we experienced, it was a broken dream. The higher your dreams, the greater the fall.”

He attributed the failure to both internal and external causes. “There are many reasons. Internally, everyone wanted to ride the wave; there was ego, fragmentation, and lack of structure. Externally, the weaponized system and militias threatened the movement, burned tents, and targeted people, even young women.”

He accused Speaker Nabih Berri’s forces of violent suppression:

Nabih Berri has a militia that they call the ‘Guards of the Parliament.’ But in reality, it’s a militia that protected itself and acted against us. They shot our friends, burned tents, and destroyed statues.

Still, he recalled the movement’s diversity with a mix of pride and frustration: “The revolution brought together parties from the far right to the far left. You can’t put them all in one basket. They were leftists, radicals, sometimes extremists but young and passionate. We worked together because of that.”

To him, October 17 was more than a spontaneous uprising it was the eruption of deep-rooted social, political, and economic decay.

The people’s voices

Six years later, the revolution lives on in memory fractured, reimagined, unresolved. The Beiruter spoke to citizens from different generations, each carrying their own version of October 17.

Layla, 26, an artist, recalls: “For a moment, we finally felt like one people, not sects, not parties. We believed we could reclaim our country. It disappointed me not because it failed, but because it showed how deep the system’s roots go. We didn’t lose to apathy; we lost to a state that has perfected the art of survival.”

Karim, a recent graduate at the time, says: “It didn’t disappoint me; it confirmed what I already knew. You can’t dismantle a sectarian system with emotion alone. The revolution was a symptom, not a cure. What we needed wasn’t slogans, but strategy and structure.”

Rita, a 22-year-old activist during the protests, recalls: “I slept in Martyrs’ Square and shouted until my voice broke. I thought we were changing history. Today, I’m not sure what we changed but I know we woke up. It planted a seed in my generation. Maybe that’s enough for now.”

Hadi, another participant, was blunt:

Did it disappoint me? Not really. You can’t revolt against a system that lives inside you in your sect, your fear, your connections.

Hope, power, and the limits of change

The October 17 uprising was always fighting an asymmetrical war. Internal fractures, opportunism, and exhaustion collided with entrenched political machines, armed power, and economic coercion. Hezbollah’s decisive suppression, the complicity of ruling parties, and the monopoly over wealth, arms, and institutions created an imbalance no street movement could overcome.

What began as hope and moral clarity met the cold arithmetic of power: money, guns, and decades of impunity.

Yet, failure does not erase significance. October 17 illuminated Lebanon’s structural decay and revealed the courage and conscience of its youth. It proved that even when the state collapses, moral authority can still rise from the streets.

It was not a triumph nor a defeat it was a reckoning: a mirror reflecting both the brilliance of a generation unafraid to speak truth to power, and the entrenched forces willing to crush it. Its legacy endures not in laws or reforms, but in conscience. A reminder that Lebanon’s people can, and will, rise again, even when the structures of power seem unassailable.