The relationship between family and power is one of the principal keys to understanding the nature of governance in Libya, not only in the present, but along the long historical trajectory of the country. Unlike the classical models of the modern state, which rest on bureaucratic institutions relatively independent of traditional social ties, the Libyan political field has remained deeply entangled with structures of kinship — be they tribal, familial, or religious. In this sense, the family appears not merely as a social unit, but also — and above all — as a political actor capable of producing, distributing, and reshaping power. Through kinship relations and social alliances, networks of influence take form that transcend the formal framework of institutions and shape the way decisions are made and resources allocated.

Since 2011, with the disintegration of the central state following the collapse of the former regime, this phenomenon has emerged more clearly: families have come to play a pivotal role in reorganising the political field. Competition no longer plays out only between institutions, but between overlapping networks of interests and loyalties for which the family is, more often than not, the organising centre. To grasp the presence of the family in power in contemporary Libya and the political roles it performs, one must return — by necessity — to the long-term historical structure that has governed the relationship between power and kinship in Libyan political history. This trajectory can be traced through three major moments: the State of the Awlad Muhammad in Fezzan — a peripheral region in which the authority of the central state remained fragile or absent, making it an ideal terrain in which to observe the mechanisms of tribal-familial rule in their purest, most stripped-down form — then the Senussi Kingdom, and finally the regime of Colonel Muammar Gaddafi.

The State of the Awlad Muhammad in Fezzan (1550–1813), which made Murzuq, in the south of the country, its centre — at the crossroads of the major trans-Saharan trade routes — embodies this configuration in its most "raw" form. In this experience, the state was not an institution distinct from the familial structure; the family itself was the state. The rule of the Awlad Muhammad rested on control over the oases and Saharan trade routes, the management of trans-Saharan caravan commerce, and the organisation of taxation through kinship and tribal networks. Legitimacy, in this model, was nothing other than a legitimacy of lineage and alliances. Power was transmitted within the family, or through balances between its branches, and administered through marriage and alliance with other local tribes. The fundamental difference from its Gulf counterparts lies in the fact that the Awlad Muhammad never developed a bureaucratic apparatus independent of the family; the family remained the state, without separation or institutional mediation. What distinguishes this experience is that power was entirely personal/familial, with the boundaries between state and kinship dissolving altogether. The Awlad Muhammad thus represent an early model of what may be called the "state/family" in the Libyan space prior to the formation of the modern state.

As for the Senussi Kingdom of Libya, it was the religious family that constituted the framework of governance. With the establishment of the Kingdom of Libya in 1951 under the rule of Idris al-Senussi, the logic of power shifted from the tribal family to the religious family. The Senussi family was not merely a ruling family; it was also a reformist religious movement (the Senussi order) and expressed a vast social network across the cities of Cyrenaica and the desert oases. In this context, Idris al-Senussi derived his legitimacy from a triad: family lineage, spiritual leadership, and tribal alliances.

This monarchical state, however, confronted a structural contradiction: it sought, on one hand, to build modern institutions (parliament, government, administration), while continuing, on the other, to rely on traditional networks of loyalty in which the Senussi family itself played the role of symbolic centre and spiritual mediator, balancing the tribes and emerging elites. The Senussi model thus represented a shift from family-as-state (the Awlad Muhammad experience in Fezzan) to family-as-unifying-symbol of the state — yet without dismantling the logic of kinship in the management of power.

With the accession of Colonel Muammar Gaddafi to power in 1969, following a revolutionary movement led by the army against the monarchy, the new regime adopted a radical discourse against family rule, monarchy, and tribe, arguing that the state should rest on what it called "the power of the masses," and not on inheritance or lineage. In reality, however, and despite the official political discourse and the transformation of the very form of governance from "republican" at first to "Jamahiriya" later, the family did not vanish from politics — it was reproduced informally within the structure of power itself. Over successive phases, power was redistributed within a narrow circle, gradually concentrating into a small network of close officers, families tied to the regime, and a hand-picked security and economic elite. In the final two decades of Gaddafi's rule in particular, his sons came to the fore in fields ranging from the economy and the media to the security and military apparatuses. A project to bequeath power itself to his son Saif al-Islam was set in motion under the banner of what was then called the "Libya of Tomorrow" project. This expressed a maximalist push of kinship logic into the management of power through succession — a logic of family interwoven with the state, even as it was ideologically disavowed. The system of governance at the time also relied openly on the redistribution of oil rent to build, consolidate, and refresh loyalties, generating a class that benefited from the regime and quasi-familial and quasi-tribal networks of interest. In other words, a regime that had from the outset raised slogans against tribe and tribalism did not in fact abolish traditional social structures; it redeployed them inside the state apparatus.

Across these three models, the continuity of the family-based logic of power can be traced along a clear historical line. First, the family/state in its "raw" form, in the experience of the Awlad Muhammad. Second, the family as a unifying symbol above the state, in the Senussi Kingdom. Third and finally, the family that is outwardly banished yet returns within the state in indirect form, under Colonel Gaddafi. This makes clear that Libya has not undergone any full break with the logic of family-based power; rather, it has undergone transformations in its form and function. Consequently, understanding the political and military families of today — whether in the east or the west — cannot be divorced from this long historical legacy, in which kinship, in its various guises, remains one of the principal keys to the production and exercise of power in the country.

The rise of Abdul Hamid Dbeibah — and, behind him, the authority of his family — cannot be understood except within the political context that took shape after 2011. With the fall of Colonel Gaddafi's regime, Libya turned into a fractured, multi-centred state in which power was no longer concentrated in a single locus or monopolised by a single party, but fragmented across complex networks of armed groups and hybrid, divided political bodies. This state of disintegration plunged the country into a spiral of continual, self-reproducing political divisions and military conflicts, the latest and most violent of which was the Battle of Tripoli, launched in April 2019 and lasting many months, between the western camp (then represented by the Government of National Accord) and the eastern camp (represented by the forces of the "Libyan National Army" under Khalifa Haftar). After months of fighting, the ceasefire of October 2020 opened the way to a new political process under the auspices of the United Nations, aimed at establishing a unified transitional authority. The Libyan Political Dialogue Forum was thus convened — a non-electoral selection mechanism made up of Libyan figures chosen at the international level — and it was through this forum that Abdul Hamid Dbeibah was elected head of the Government of National Unity in February 2021.

The first point to underline here is that Dbeibah's legitimacy was not the product of a direct popular base, but the product of international balances (the United Nations, Western powers, agreements among Libyan "elites") — and the offspring of a logic of "crisis management" rather than one of root-and-branch resolution. This is what explains, subsequently, the chronic legitimacy crisis that clings to him and continues to pursue him. Since 2022, the Dbeibah government has no longer represented the sole authority in Libya; the country has divided between two rival governments — the Government of National Unity in Tripoli (chaired by Dbeibah), and a government in the east backed by the House of Representatives and the Libyan Army forces (currently headed by Osama Hamad). Dbeibah's government was supposed to be transitional and lead to elections in December 2021, but these elections never took place, turning the government from a transitional body into a fait accompli and intensifying challenges to its legitimacy. Dbeibah no longer relies on an electoral mandate, but on a balance of internal and external forces.

Internally, Dbeibah's power rests on a network of armed groups whose backbone consists of forces from Misrata under the command of the Deputy Minister of Defence, Abdelsalam al-Zoubi, and on certain formations in Tripoli, foremost among them the so-called "444 Brigade," led by Mahmoud Hamza. Tripoli has witnessed several confrontations between various groups, even within the camp loyal to Dbeibah, providing a striking picture of a networked, shifting authority that lacks hierarchy and stability. On several occasions, Dbeibah has resorted to military force to rearrange this network, with assorted clashes erupting in Tripoli to consolidate control over strategic centres. While he succeeded, for example, in ending the influence of Ghneiwa al-Kikli — one of the most prominent leaders of the armed groups in the capital, who exerted broad influence over sovereign ministries and institutions — he has so far failed, despite repeated attempts, to subdue the "Special Deterrence Force" (RADA), specialised in combating terrorism and organised crime and led by Abdelraouf Kara.

The latest report of the UN Panel of Experts indicates that Ibrahim Dbeibah played a major role in these events by directly financing a campaign to recruit fighters from Misrata to be transferred to Tripoli to fight against the "Deterrence Force," in exchange for salaries ranging between 700 and 5,000 Libyan dinars. The report further affirms that "Ibrahim Dbeibah's influence extends well beyond the scope of armed groups; he enjoys considerable sway in appointments to office, in light of the security, political, and economic tasks entrusted to him." It also notes that he "played a pivotal role in several decisive settlements in Libya, including through his direct participation in the agreement between the Dbeibah and Haftar families that led to the conclusion of the so-called Arkenu deal." The report likewise indicates that "his influence over key economic sectors is grounded in his alliance with a number of armed-group leaders — previously with Kikli, and more recently with Abdelsalam al-Zoubi." This makes clear that the contest is not only over political power but also over economic resources and the channels of rent distribution in a state that essentially depends on oil production.

Confronted with the legitimacy dilemma that pursues him, and in his search to consolidate the pillars of his rule, Dbeibah has thus installed what might be called a "political loyalty economy." The model relies, fundamentally, on the distribution of resources to armed actors, and on the purchase of loyalties rather than the building of institutions. The researcher Anas El-Gomati has described this model as a "pay-for-loyalty" system, in the sense that militias are not actually integrated into the state but rather financed to preserve a temporary stability. This is perhaps what explains why there is no real central security authority in the west of the country — to the point that the UN Panel of Experts report refers to "fragmented western Libya."

Dbeibah's system of governance can thus be summarised in three core features: it is, first, an authority without full sovereignty, owing to geographical and institutional fragmentation; second, a system that governs through networks rather than institutions, by way of militias and the rentier economy; and third, an authority underpinned by an international legitimacy that outweighs its domestic legitimacy, the result of a UN-engineered political architecture. From this angle, it may be argued that Dbeibah is not a "head of government" in the classical sense, but rather a manager of intricate balances within a fractured system.

This equation, which has anchored a regime of "political loyalty economy" effectively run by Ibrahim Dbeibah, reaffirms the structural role played by the family — not as a traditional social appendage, but as an active unit in the production and redistribution of power. It also illustrates how the family mutates from a kinship framework into an organisational mechanism that ties together politics, economics, and influence networks.

Economically, politically, and historically, the Dbeibah family belongs to a category of economic actors whose fortunes were forged within the rentier state structure under Gaddafi. The family's name rose to prominence in particular through its operations in the construction sector, directly tied to major government projects. This pattern falls within what the political economy literature calls "state capitalism," in which wealth is inseparable from proximity to power, and indeed feeds upon it.

The significance of this trajectory becomes clearer once we recall that Abdul Hamid Dbeibah himself headed, in the late Gaddafi era, a government body that oversaw the management of vast contracts in the construction sector. The importance of this period therefore lies not only in its historical dimension, but in the fact that it explains the continuity of these networks after 2011. Theoretically, rather than producing a break with Gaddafi-era economic structures — as the radical revolutionary transformation that swept the country might have implied — these networks succeeded, in practice, in repositioning themselves within the new context, illustrating their broad capacity for manoeuvre and adaptation to changing conditions.

It is also worth noting that when Abdul Hamid Dbeibah was elected head of the Government of National Unity in February 2021 through the Libyan Political Dialogue Forum, indications of the entanglement of money with the political process emerged from the outset. The 2021 Panel of Experts report cited testimonies regarding bribes paid to certain Forum participants in exchange for voting for specific candidates, including Dbeibah. While the investigations did not result in definitive judicial convictions, the report nonetheless confirmed the existence of "credible indications of an attempt to buy votes." The significance of this episode lies in revealing that access to power was not solely political, but unfolded through the interlocking of political and economic instruments.

The economic dimension of the family appears more clearly through figures such as Ali Dbeibah, whose name has surfaced in international judicial files concerning financial assets linked to Libya. These facts indicate that the family's activity has not been merely local; it has extended into external financial networks, reinforcing the hypothesis that it is a cross-border actor within the Libyan political economy.

Over time, however — enabled by Dbeibah's mobilisation of rentier capital and family ties to build a network of loyalties that none of his predecessors (such as al-Sarraj, who lacked these resources) was able to deploy — the Dbeibah family has ceased to be a network operating in the shadows and has become a political symbol in public discourse. Several protests in Tripoli and other cities have tied the family's name to corruption files and the postponement of the elections. This shift, from "hidden network" to "publicly declared emblem" of political and economic corruption, is likely to further deepen the legitimacy crisis that by its very nature is intrinsic to the Dbeibah government.

Likewise, the rise of Khalifa Haftar reflects the transformations the Libyan landscape has undergone since 2011, his trajectory marking a passage from a marginal position to a centre of military and political gravity in the east and south of the country. To grasp this rise, it must also be set against the backdrop of the collapse of the Libyan state after the fall of Colonel Gaddafi, and the security and institutional vacuum that followed, which opened the way for military actors to attempt to reshape power.

Lieutenant General Khalifa Haftar returned to Libya in 2011, in the context of the country's civil war, after decades in exile. He sought to leverage older networks within the military establishment, the state of disintegration that had befallen the security apparatus, and his image as a regime opponent — along with the symbolic capital of being one of the unionist Free Officers who had brought down the monarchy in 1969. The decisive turning point in his career, however, came in 2014, when he launched Operation "Dignity" (Karama), presenting himself as the commander of a war against "terrorism" in the east of the country. This rhetoric enabled him to win the support of social segments anxious about chaos, alongside regional and international backing — particularly from Egypt, the United Arab Emirates, and France.

Step by step, Haftar managed to build what came to be known as the "Libyan National Army," a military formation combining remnants of the former army, tribal contingents, and Salafist battalions. By 2016, Haftar had taken control of the Oil Crescent region, the most important area for oil production and export in Libya. This achievement was not merely a military shift; it was a strategic turning point, granting his camp direct leverage over one of the country's most vital sources of wealth. Although oil management remained officially in the hands of the National Oil Corporation, on-the-ground control of the terminals turned Haftar into a key player in the equation of Libyan political economy.

The areas under Haftar's and the Libyan National Army's control today extend across the entire Libyan east (Cyrenaica) and broad swathes of the south, including cities such as Benghazi, Tobruk, and Sebha. In these regions, governance is not exercised through strong, autonomous civilian institutions, but through a model that may be described as "administrative militarisation," in which military authority overlaps with civilian administration. Local councils, security agencies, and even some economic institutions operate under the direct or indirect supervision of the military command.

The mechanisms of Khalifa Haftar's governance rest on three core pillars. First, strict security control: most rival armed formations in the east have been dismantled or subdued, allowing the imposition of a degree of stability — albeit one based on domination rather than consensus. Second, tribal alliances: tribal sheikhs play an important role in propping up the regime in exchange for the preservation of their local interests. Third, control over the economy: most reports of the UN Panel of Experts, including the most recent, point to the existence of networks tied to the army's forces that control the bulk of economic activity, including smuggling and the redistribution of resources.

Despite this relative cohesion, the Haftar system remains based on "charisma" more than on "bureaucracy." It depends heavily on his person as commander, and on a network of loyalties that could unravel in his absence or amid a shift in the balance of power. The failure of his 2019–2020 assault on Tripoli revealed the limits of his ability to unify the country by force, and effectively entrenched the east–west division.

Broadly speaking, Khalifa Haftar cannot be viewed merely as a military commander; he must also be seen as a political actor who has succeeded in building a parallel system of power within a divided state. A system founded on "comprehensive militarisation," local alliances, and external support — one that reflects (much like the Dbeibah case) the nature of a Libya whose institution-building trajectory remains unfinished.

And while Haftar's rise initially leaned on a rhetoric of "rebuilding the state" and fighting chaos, the evolution of his system in eastern Libya gradually reveals a shift toward a mode of governance closer to "familial militarisation," in which military power intersects with a family network playing an increasing role in distributing influence and resources and organising positions. As in other experiences (including the era of Colonel Gaddafi), the military institution does not remain a neutral framework; it becomes a base from which power is re-engineered within a narrow circle of close associates — at the head of which, in Khalifa Haftar's case, stand the commander's own sons, ahead of all others.

At the head of the commander's sons stands his son Saddam, who holds the rank of Lieutenant General and was appointed deputy to his father, the "General Commander of the Arab Armed Forces." Over recent years, Saddam Haftar has become one of the most important security actors in the east. He commands elite military units, and he is widely credited with direct roles in managing sensitive security files, particularly in Benghazi, Derna, and the vast desert south. These units do not operate merely as military instruments, but also as channels for disciplining the political and social field, used to secure loyalties and to prevent the emergence of rival power centres within the east.

Alongside Saddam, the name of Khaled Haftar stands out — his brother, who oversees other military units and serves as Chief of the General Staff, and who plays a role in managing certain security arrangements. Their brother Belgacem Haftar, meanwhile, appears at the front of political activity, particularly through his ties with the Parliament in Tobruk and his oversight of the Development and Reconstruction Fund, which manages the largest infrastructure projects in the country. This distribution of roles reflects a clear pattern of functional division within the family, between security, military, politics, and economy. What gives this structure its singularity, however, is not only the presence of the sons, but also the manner in which power is reorganised around them. Rather than allowing the military command to remain an institutional framework, specific units are "allocated" to family members, gradually turning them into semi-autonomous centres of influence within the military apparatus itself.

At a different juncture, the family's role emerged more starkly. In Benghazi and Derna, following the military operations that ended the presence of opposition armed groups, units tied to Haftar's sons (particularly the Tariq Ibn Ziyad Brigade) played a role in reorganising the security field, and in disciplining the civilian sphere — including the media and political activity — at times in horrifying forms, extending to the liquidation and forced disappearance of political figures, civil society activists, and even members of parliament, such as MP Siham Sergewa and MP Ibrahim al-Dorsi. In both cases, accusations from opponents are directed at Saddam Haftar.

This picture raises a fundamental question about the nature of the stability achieved in the east: is it the outcome of institution-building, or of tightening control through a family-military network? Despite the apparent cohesion, the model carries structural vulnerabilities within it. The concentration of power within the family limits the autonomy of the military institution, creates potential tensions with other field commanders, and ties the regime's stability to Haftar's own person. All of this points clearly to the fact that the future of the Libyan east may be deeply affected by the question of "succession": who will succeed Haftar, and how will power be redistributed within the family?