Tripoli, a city state on the Brink

To understand what is unfolding today in the streets of Tripoli, one must go back fourteen years. Since the brutal fall of Muammar Gaddafi in 2011, Libya has lived in a state of chronic political fragmentation. A collapsed state, where institutions never revived, corroded by local rivalries, external interests, and militia logics. War, never truly ended, became the backdrop. In Tripoli, people had grown accustomed to the roar of armed pick-ups, the heavy silence of backroom deals, and a balance not based on law but on mutual tolerance between warlords.

But in recent days, this fragile balance has collapsed.

The Warlord of Tripoli

In this complex theater, Abdel Ghani al-Kikli, nicknamed “Ghneiwa”, became a central figure. Once a bakery clerk under Gaddafi and a former convict for murder, this man from Benghazi turned warlord built a security empire in the capital. As head of the infamous “Stability Support Authority” (SSA), a 2000 men armed militia, he controlled southern Tripoli from his stronghold in Abu Salim, with his own prison, his own laws, and his own networks.
He did not seize this power alone. He built it through reciprocal dependence with successive governments, which saw in him a guarantor of urban peace. In 2016, his militia was officially integrated into the Ministry of Interior. In 2021, transitional Prime Minister Abdelhamid Dbeibah opened the gates of economic power to him in exchange for political loyalty. Ghneiwa became more than a militiaman: a shadowy businessman, placing his lieutenants at the head of key services such as immigration, internal security, or public building management. For Dbeibah, Ghneiwa was essential: the fear he instilled in the streets of Tripoli prevented any protest movement and froze the political scene.
But this marriage of convenience began to erode. Over time, Ghneiwa’s ambitions grew too large, his network too dense, his influence too visible. Meanwhile, Dbeibah, weakened both internally and internationally, sought to reassert authority. In a context where Western powers pushed for a unified government and his own mandate neared its end, the Prime Minister chose a desperate path: war.

The Military Gamble

What happened in Tripoli in recent days is not a mere skirmish between factions. It is a brutal attempt to seize control by force. The maneuver was swift. A targeted, blitz operation aimed to neutralize Ghneiwa and retake Abu Salim. The assault, led by the 444 Brigade and supported by groups loyal to Dbeibah, was tactically successful. Ghneiwa was killed. His men fled, scattered or arrested. The neighborhood fell. But what followed was a chain reaction. This show of force triggered widespread retaliation. The militias from Misrata, long sidelined, felt betrayed. They saw this operation as not only a threat to the military balance in the capital but also a political marginalization of their faction. Other players from Zawiya, Zintan, and Sirte began mobilizing. Armed convoys moved toward Tripoli. The fire was lit—and no one knew how to extinguish it.
The next 72 hours saw rare intensity: street battles, artillery fire, ambushes, kidnappings. Some militias withdrew; others advanced. The frontline was everywhere and nowhere. Tripolitans, long used to tension, faced a city once again abandoned to itself. Schools closed. Shops shut down. The hum of drones replaced that of conversations. By day, people waited. By night, they endured.

A Disintegrating Power

What stands out in this episode is the utter political vacuum. The Dbeibah government no longer governs—it defends itself. Its wager: to outpace rivals in Tripoli, eliminate dissent, and reestablish itself as the linchpin of a political process it no longer controls. But this strategy clashes with Libya’s complexity. Every faction here has its networks, its protection, its ambitions.
The international community, which has quietly supported a political solution and elections, looks on helplessly. It knows the crisis is not just Tripolitanian—it is national. Behind Ghneiwa’s fall lies a wider reshuffling. Every group entering Tripoli now hopes to secure its place in any future government. Everyone wants a seat before dawn breaks.
Fault lines now run through everything: neighborhoods, alliances, even families. Old tensions resurface—between Misrata and other parts of western Libya, between revolution veterans and the nouveau riche of war. The social fabric is exposed. Behind the Kalashnikovs, it is grudges that speak.

The Temptation from the East

As Tripoli sinks deeper, eyes turn east. Marshal Khalifa Haftar remains still… but he watches. Units allied to his forces, from Sirte and Fezzan, quietly approach the capital. Not to attack—at least not yet—but to be present in case the government falls. Haftar could appear as the “reasonable” alternative if chaos reigns.
Haftar, silent but present, might play the stability card. In a Libya worn down by a decade of war, the rhetoric of order still resonates. If he avoids a new bloodbath, he could emerge as a solution. A paradox, but a real possibility. Just days after standing beside Vladimir Putin and weeks after reconciling with Ankara, Haftar may see the fruit ripening.
Meanwhile, Turkey, historically Dbeibah’s backer, seems adrift. Its ties to factions now under attack complicate its stance. If Ankara withdraws its support, Dbeibah’s grip could collapse, opening the door to a total political overhaul.

A System Out of Breath

What is collapsing in Tripoli is not just a militia or a government—it is a mode of governance based on survival, rent, and violence. Since 2011, Libya has not been governed—it has been managed. Each armed actor found their place, in exchange for silence, loyalty, or protection. This tacit system once had rules. Today, those rules no longer apply.
The population knows this. They expect nothing from this power structure. They know the men in uniform do not defend a social project, but market shares. They know the promises of elections, repeated for a decade, have become cruel jokes.
What comes next is uncertain. A fragile ceasefire? A return to open warfare? A de facto partition? Or a brief return to armed stability?
For now, Tripoli holds its breath—and so does the entire country.

Complete chronology of the events

May 13, 2025: Fighting continues, with at least six confirmed deaths. Militias from Misrata and other regions, such as Zawiya and Zintan, begin mobilizing, denouncing what they describe as an attempt by Dbeibah to marginalize them. The government announces the dissolution of certain units, including the DCIM (Direction countring illegal migration), and appoints a new head of the Internal Security Agency. Schools and businesses close.

May 14, 2025: The government announces a ceasefire, accompanied by the deployment of neutral units to secure the city. Fighting subsides, but targeted operations against the Special Deterrence Force (SDF) continue. The truce remains fragile.

May 15, 2025: Clashes resume, particularly between the Radaa Force and the 444 Brigade near the port. Violence intensifies throughout the day but eases by late afternoon, allowing some bakeries to reopen. Schools remain closed, and the Libyan Red Crescent reports recovering bodies from the streets.

May 16, 2025: No major developments are reported, suggesting a possible lull in the violence, although tensions remain high.