Libya’s Permanent War: When Daily Violence Becomes the New Normal

A decade after Gaddafi’s fall promised democracy and stability, Libya has instead perfected the art of perpetual conflict—where armed clashes are as routine as sunrise.

The Unraveling of a Nation

Since the 2011 NATO-backed intervention that toppled Muammar Gaddafi, Libya has transformed from a dictatorship into what political scientists call a “militia state”—a territory where dozens of armed groups hold more power than any government institution. The country, once Africa’s wealthiest per capita, now exists in a state of controlled chaos where violence isn’t an exception but the rule. Military analyst Mohamed Al-Tarhouni’s assessment that daily clashes have become “routine” merely confirms what international observers have long suspected: Libya represents the most catastrophic failure of the Arab Spring.

The geography of violence tells its own story. Western Libya, home to the capital Tripoli, has become a patchwork of militia-controlled neighborhoods where territorial disputes are settled through force. These aren’t ideological conflicts or ethnic cleansings—they’re turf wars over smuggling routes, government contracts, and access to oil revenues. Each militia maintains just enough stability to extract resources while ensuring the state remains too weak to challenge their authority.

The Political Economy of Chaos

What makes Libya’s situation particularly intractable is that instability has become profitable. Militias have discovered that threatening violence often yields better returns than actually governing. By controlling key infrastructure—ports, airports, oil facilities—armed groups can extort the state for salaries, equipment, and official recognition. The Government of National Unity, internationally recognized but domestically impotent, essentially pays protection money to militias to maintain a facade of control. This creates a perverse incentive structure where peace becomes bad for business.

The international community’s response has only deepened these dynamics. Multiple foreign powers—including Turkey, Russia, Egypt, and the UAE—back different factions, turning Libya into a proxy battlefield. Each external patron provides just enough support to keep their clients fighting but not enough to achieve decisive victory. The result is a profitable stalemate where weapons flow in, oil flows out, and ordinary Libyans remain trapped in between.

The Human Cost of Normalized Violence

For Libya’s six million citizens, this “routine” violence has reshaped every aspect of daily life. Schools close without warning when militias clash nearby. Hospitals operate on skeleton crews as medical professionals flee abroad. Basic services like electricity and water depend on which armed group controls the infrastructure that week. An entire generation of Libyan children has never known their country at peace—for them, the sound of gunfire is as normal as traffic noise.

Perhaps most damaging is the psychological toll of living in perpetual insecurity. When violence becomes routine, society adapts in destructive ways. Trust erodes, social capital disappears, and people retreat into narrow tribal or neighborhood identities for protection. The very idea of a unified Libyan state becomes harder to imagine with each passing year of fragmentation.

Beyond the Failed State Paradigm

Libya challenges our conventional understanding of state failure. This isn’t Somalia in the 1990s—a complete collapse of order. Instead, Libya has evolved into what might be called a “permanently fragmented state,” where multiple authorities coexist, basic functions continue at a minimal level, and violence remains carefully calibrated to avoid total breakdown. It’s a system that serves the interests of armed groups and their foreign backers while condemning ordinary citizens to perpetual insecurity.

The international community’s standard prescription—elections, power-sharing agreements, security sector reform—assumes that Libya’s various factions actually want to build a functioning state. But what if the current chaos isn’t a problem to be solved but a profitable arrangement to be maintained? When instability becomes more lucrative than governance, traditional peacebuilding approaches become exercises in futility.

As Libya enters its second decade of post-Gaddafi dysfunction, we must ask ourselves a disturbing question: What happens when an entire country becomes addicted to conflict—and is the international community inadvertently feeding that addiction by continuing to treat Libya’s permanent war as a temporary crisis?