Lebanon’s ongoing economic collapse stems from decades of political corruption and evasion, with repeated IMF reform agreements undermined by a ruling elite intent on preserving its power.

For more than two decades, the international community has poured financial lifelines into Lebanon. From the Paris I Conference in 2001 through to the 2018 CEDRE summit, institutions like the International Monetary Fund, World Bank, and donor governments have extended generous aid packages—always tethered to the hope of structural reform. Yet Lebanon’s ruling elite has persistently defied these expectations, clinging to a political culture steeped in corruption, dysfunction, and a cynical avoidance of accountability.

The message at CEDRE was unambiguous: reform first, aid second. It was meant to be a turning point. Instead, it became yet another waypoint in Lebanon’s descent. Even as the country careened from crisis to catastrophe—COVID-19, the apocalyptic Beirut Port explosion, skirmishes with Israel, and the ignominy of being added to the FATF’s Gray List—its leadership remained steadfast in one thing only: its unwillingness to change.

It’s tempting, in moments of deepening despair, to blame the IMF for not doing more. But the truth is starker. The failure lies squarely with Lebanon’s entrenched political class—a ruling elite that has perfected the art of performative governance while systemically sabotaging the very reforms it pledges to pursue.

In April 2022, Lebanon signed a Staff-Level Agreement (SLA) with the IMF—a blueprint for economic stabilization. It promised a restructured banking sector, fiscal discipline, and transparency in monetary policy. And yet, nearly three years later, little has been delivered. Banks remain paralyzed, depositors are locked out of their savings, the Central Bank operates in opacity, and Parliament—animated more by self-preservation than public service—has stonewalled every serious legislative initiative.

One cannot ignore the political choreography behind the 2022 SLA: It was signed mere weeks before parliamentary elections. Reform was not the goal; optics were. The tactic worked. The same cast of power brokers returned to Parliament, emboldened and entrenched, underscoring how hollow the reform narrative truly was.

Now, with the IMF having just completed another fact-finding mission and with fresh elections looming in 2026, the script appears to be repeating. The political terrain remains unchanged. The promises are recycled. And the international community, yet again, finds itself navigating a well-worn landscape of delays and deception.

To understand why reforms never materialize, one must examine not just the broken promises but also the mechanisms of evasion. The IMF is not a police force. It cannot compel governments to act. But it does possess underutilized tools that could shine light where opacity thrives. Chief among them is the IMF’s safeguards assessment—a technical mechanism designed to audit central bank governance, identify risk, and expose manipulation.

Such a review would address the heart of Lebanon’s financial dysfunction. It would go beyond forensic audits—already delayed and diluted by political interference—and offer an independent diagnosis of how the Banque du Liban was hollowed out, how oversight was corrupted, and who benefited. That is precisely why Lebanon’s political and financial elite have refused to request it.

The logic is self-serving and devastatingly effective: selective local audits maintain the illusion of scrutiny without threatening the networks of privilege that sustain Lebanon’s kleptocracy. An IMF safeguards assessment, by contrast, would render such subterfuge untenable.

If the government were genuinely committed to transparency, it would have invited the IMF in long ago. It would have released full financial statements, acted on audit findings, and embraced structural overhauls. Its refusal to do so is not a bureaucratic delay—it is a strategy of concealment.

Real reform, then, is not merely about economic blueprints or IMF technicalities. It is about political will—and Lebanon’s Parliament, as currently constituted, has none. Many MPs are tied directly to the status quo, benefiting through clientelist networks, banking interests, or outright corruption. Expecting them to legislate against their own survival is a fantasy.

The road ahead is not without options—but it is narrow and fraught. The IMF should withhold any new SLA until measurable reforms from 2022 are implemented. Western and regional powers—the U.S., EU, and Gulf states—must adopt targeted sanctions on politicians and financiers obstructing progress. Donor institutions like the World Bank and European Investment Bank must shift from aid promises to enforcement mechanisms.

More crucially, electoral reform must become a central international demand. Economic salvation will remain elusive without a transformation in Lebanon’s political class.

For now, Lebanon’s economic crisis persists not because the roadmap is unclear, but because its leaders refuse to follow it. The country teeters between collapse and inertia, trapped in a cycle of performative commitments and tactical obfuscation. The longer this continues, the deeper the nation sinks—economically, institutionally, and morally.

The only way forward is through rupture: a decisive break from the culture of impunity and a recalibration of international engagement. That means conditioning every dollar on concrete action, elevating the voices of civil society, and insisting on mechanisms like the IMF safeguards assessment that pierce the veil of elite concealment.

Lebanon has spent the better part of two decades promising change. It is long past time to demand it.