TRIPOLI — The meeting room was thick with tension before anyone sat down. On one side, the interior minister of Tripoli’s Government of National Unity (GNU). On the other, a military commander whose forces have been accused of blocking fuel supplies to the capital. In between, a US diplomat, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, waiting for the handshake that never came.
That scene, described by two people present, captures the core challenge of Washington’s latest push to merge Libya’s warring institutions. The US wants a unified government before the end of 2026. But in Tripoli, old hatreds are not so easily buried.
A deal on paper, not in practice
For over a decade, Libya has been split. The internationally recognized GNU in the west. The Libyan Arab Armed Forces (LAAF) in the east. And in between, a sprawl of militias, smugglers, and shell companies that profit from chaos.
The US initiative, led by the State Department’s special envoy for Libya, aims to merge the central bank, the oil company, and the military into single national bodies. It’s a plan that sounds clean on paper — combine resources, share revenue, hold elections. But in practice, it means powerful men giving up power. And few in Tripoli are ready to do that.
“The GNU is a coalition of rivals,” says a European diplomat based in Tunis. “They’ll smile for the cameras. But behind the scenes, they’re already maneuvering to block any merger that threatens their slice of the pie.”
The man who could scuttle everything
That maneuvering focuses on one man: the GNU’s interior minister, a figure who controls the most potent security apparatus in western Libya. Over the past year, he has consolidated power by appointing loyalists to key positions and cutting deals with militia leaders who answer to no one.
For the US plan to work, this minister must agree to dissolve his forces into a national army. But that would mean losing control over millions of dollars in security contracts — and the political leverage that comes with it.
“He’s not going to fold,” says a former GNU advisor who asked for anonymity to speak freely. “The Americans think sending a diplomat with a briefcase will fix things. But these men have been at war. They don’t trust anyone.”
Oil money: the real battleground
The unification talks circle around one thing: cash. Libya sits on Africa’s largest crude reserves, and whoever controls the oil revenue controls the country.
Under the current setup, the Tripoli-based National Oil Corporation (NOC) sells crude, but the eastern government claims the right to approve deals. The result: a stalemate that has shut down production multiple times over the past three years. Each shutdown costs the country tens of millions of dollars — and enriches the factions who can smuggle fuel from the closed pipelines.
The US plan proposes a unified NOC board with equal representation from east and west. But the Tripoli faction suspects the board would be dominated by the eastern LAAF, which is backed by Egypt and the UAE. “We’re not trading one foreign patron for another,” a GNU official told me, his voice sharp. “We’ve seen what happens when the east controls the money.”
Where the US stands to lose
Washington’s leverage in Libya is limited. The US has no troops on the ground and only a small diplomatic presence in Tunis and Tripoli. Its main tool is the threat of sanctions — but those have failed to change behavior before.
“The US is betting that the internal pressure for stability is stronger than the loyalty to factions,” says a Libya analyst at the Atlantic Council. “That’s a bet with long odds. Every time someone in Tripoli says yes, they’ll look over their shoulder at the armed men who pay them.”
The real test comes in August, when the UN broker is expected to present a draft unity deal. If the Tripoli factions don’t sign, the US will have to decide whether to pressure them — or walk away. Walking away would leave Libya’s chaos intact, but staying could mean entanglement in a civil war that no one can win.
The view from the street
In the cafés of Tripoli’s old city, the talk of unity deals draws cynical laughter. “They want to unify the government? Good,” says Ali, a 34-year-old mechanic, wiping grease from his hands. “But I’ll believe it when I can drive to Benghazi without being stopped at a checkpoint and paying a bribe to some kid with an AK-47.”
The checkpoints remain. Militias still patrol the roads, and fuel lines still snake for hours outside gas stations. For ordinary Libyans, unification isn’t a diplomatic abstraction — it’s the difference between a working day and a man with a gun who tells you to go back home.
The US initiative might bring that change. Or it might just be another round of meetings in air-conditioned rooms, while outside, the frustration boils. The handshake never came in that room in Tripoli. And until it does, Libya will remain torn, and the American plan will be just another piece of paper in a country that has learned to survive without them.
