In Libya, the Boulos Plan triggers fratricidal wars between the Dabaibas and the Haftars

The day the Trump administration decided to take charge of the Libyan dossier has a precise date: September 2, 2025. On that day, in Rome, the heirs of western and eastern Libya, Ibrahim Dabaiba and Saddam Haftar, met in secret. From that moment, the Americans launched their plan to unify the country, which had been divided by years of civil war. What they failed to realize, however, was that they were simultaneously opening a Pandora’s box within the two clans that share control of Libya—the Dabaibas and the Haftars—stoking jealousy, resentment, and fratricidal violence.

That day in Rome, the two young leaders were summoned by Massad Boulos, Donald Trump’s adviser for the Middle East and Africa. The White House envoy’s plan was as ambitious as it was simple: reunify the country and have the two men agree on how to divide its most important offices. Wrapped in secrecy, the meeting produced a preliminary agreement: the presidency of Libya would go to Saddam Haftar, while the position of prime minister would remain with Tripoli’s current premier, Abdulhamid Dabaiba, Ibrahim’s uncle.

Months passed, and Abdulhamid Dabaiba’s health began to deteriorate. Suffering from heart problems, he secretly flew to Milan in February this year for treatment at San Raffaele Hospital. News of his condition emerged only days later, when Italian doctors advised him to undergo open-heart surgery and step away from public office for several months. Such a scenario was incompatible with the delicate negotiations the Americans were conducting behind the scenes over Libya’s future.

The seriousness of Abdulhamid Dabaiba’s condition led many in Libya to wonder who might replace him. Among them, naturally, was his favored nephew, Ibrahim Dabaiba. Over the years, he had amassed considerable power, to the point that many in Tripoli regarded him as exercising the authority his uncle lacked in governing large parts of the capital. Ibrahim reportedly orders attacks, determines ceasefire terms between rival militias, and approves alliances. The Americans were aware of all this and readily accepted it when, beginning in April, Ibrahim started presenting himself as the only credible alternative to his ailing uncle for the role of prime minister.

Apart from the Americans, however, few in Libya took Ibrahim’s self-nomination seriously. While ambitious, many questioned his actual abilities. On social media, he was mocked for his poor command of English, as seen in a video recorded during a recent meeting at Palazzo Chigi with Fabrizio Saggio, diplomatic adviser to Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni.

More importantly, opposition to Boulos’s unification plan spread widely—from religious figures such as the Grand Mufti to tribes in southern Libya. The prevailing sentiment was that Americans were not welcome to impose solutions from above, and that Libya’s unification could only come through Libyans themselves and democratic elections.

“Boulos has launched numerous superficial mediation efforts, from Western Sahara to Libya, from Sudan to the Democratic Republic of Congo, without a deep understanding or institutional knowledge,” Wolfram Lacher, a Libya expert at Berlin’s German Institute for International and Security Affairs, told Il Foglio. “The idea of military reunification has long been an obsession of AFRICOM, but it strikes me as clearly unrealistic. The Americans have spent years believing that by placing a handful of private militias under a unified command, they could expel the Russians. They’re dreaming.”

Among his many opponents, Ibrahim Dabaiba also faced another major enemy: his cousin Mohammed, Abdulhamid’s son. The two had never gotten along, but Boulos’s plan only intensified their mutual hostility.

On May 15, in the western city of Tarhuna, tensions erupted during violent clashes between supporters of two football clubs: Al-Ittihad, whose honorary president is Mohammed, and Asswehly, a club close to Ibrahim. The reasons were trivial—the referee failed to award Asswehly a penalty and ended the match three minutes early—but they were enough to spark outrage. Fans accused the referee of having been bribed by Ibrahim.

Security forces fired live ammunition into the crowd, which then regrouped with suspicious speed in Tripoli, some fifty kilometers away, and attacked the prime minister’s presidential residence on Al Sikka Road, setting it on fire. Many interpreted the unrest as an expression of the deep animosity between the two cousins.

“Mohammed is generally viewed as a relatively marginal figure even within the Dabaiba family, lacking the influence, political weight, and ambition associated with Ibrahim,” a Libyan source told Il Foglio. “Some observers see Mohammed’s growing involvement in football—and even elite social circles such as the Rimal equestrian club—as part of an effort to build a public profile and influence.”

The rivalry between the two cousins had already emerged in late 2024. While Ibrahim worked to establish himself as Tripoli’s strongman, Mohammed displayed extravagant wealth on social media: luxury cars, villas, private jets, tigers and exotic animals roaming his home, jewelry, and vast amounts of cash.

That September, however, the presidency of LPTIC, Libya’s telecommunications company, became vacant. Control of the company had traditionally been shared between the Dabaibas and Abdel Ghani al-Kikli, better known as “Ghnewa.”

“Like Muammar Gaddafi’s eldest son once did, Mohammed Dabaiba never had political ambitions,” Jalel Harchaoui of the Royal United Services Institute in London told Il Foglio. “He had only one aspiration: controlling the telecommunications company.”

For Mohammed, Ghnewa represented an obstacle. The commander of the Stability Support Apparatus—a militia crucial to the Dabaibas—demanded substantial shares in numerous business ventures, including LPTIC, a massive financial vehicle handling large sums of money of often questionable origin.

The dispute escalated until May 12, 2025, when Ghnewa was killed during a meeting at the Tekbali military camp in Tripoli. His death opened the way for direct competition between Mohammed and Ibrahim, marked by mutual accusations and outbreaks of violence, including the attacks on the presidential residence.

“Throughout all this, Abdulhamid has consistently sided with his son Mohammed, especially after the death of his other son, Abdul Rahman, in 2024,” Harchaoui explained. “When Ibrahim began presenting himself to the Americans as a possible future prime minister, Mohammed’s anger only increased. That is one reason why Boulos’s plan is now slowly unraveling.”

Today, after an initial burst of enthusiasm, Boulos refers less and less to the agreement negotiated between the Haftars and the Dabaibas and appears to have returned to the familiar calls for democratic elections supported by the United Nations.

“Our initiative complements the UN process, and there is great optimism regarding Libya’s unification and the holding of elections within a Libyan-led solution,” Trump’s adviser said yesterday.

If the American plan fueled jealousy and resentment among the Dabaibas in western Libya, it fared no better in the east. The proposal to make Saddam Haftar president of a unified Libya provoked the envy of his brothers, Belqasim and Khaled.

As executive director of the Derna Reconstruction Fund, Belqasim has overseen a massive investment program since 2023 to rebuild the region devastated by Storm Daniel. The scale of the funds involved is enormous: in June last year, the Tobruk-based parliament approved a budget of $12.7 billion for the fund.

“If that is true, it is worrying,” UN Special Envoy Hanna Tetteh commented at the time. Her concerns centered on the lack of transparency surrounding both the source and the use of these funds.

Amid the controversy, Saddam reportedly froze much of the liquidity under Belqasim’s control. The move was all the more bitter given Belqasim’s exclusion from any major role in the Boulos plan. Over the following months, resentment toward his brother steadily grew.

Diplomatic sources told Il Foglio that Belqasim “has no money left, despite continuing to sign memoranda of understanding and agreements with everyone.” People familiar with the matter say he now controls only “a little over one million euros in budget, at most.”

Left with plenty of anger and little money, Belqasim’s apparent goal is to spend far beyond his allocated resources by signing contracts across the board, “certainly not with Western companies, and especially not with Americans.”

In March, openly defying Saddam, Belqasim met in Derna with Mohamed al-Menfi, head of Libya’s Presidential Council in the west and a bitter enemy of both Saddam and their father Khalifa Haftar.

“Following the principle that the enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Harchaoui explained.

The rivalry has become ruthless not only politically but economically. Besides the Derna Reconstruction Fund, eastern Libya has another powerful institution, the National Development Agency, directly linked to Saddam Haftar.

“Until a couple of years ago, Saddam’s fund invested almost exclusively in the Sirte area. Now it has expanded into Benghazi and Kufra, entering direct competition with his brother,” Libyan sources said.

Last April, the Americans succeeded in securing the reunification of Libya’s national budget between east and west, a key step toward stabilization. Yet its practical impact remains limited. The agreement allocates 20 billion Libyan dinars—about $3 billion—to western Libya and the same amount to the east and south.

“But most of that money will be under Saddam’s control, and Belqasim will have to fight for his share.”

Then there is Khaled Haftar, chief of staff in eastern Libya and another of Saddam’s brothers, whose reaction was perhaps even more dramatic.

Khaled was absent from the opening ceremony of Flintlock 26, the military exercise sponsored by the United States and Italy that brought together forces from eastern and western Libya. His empty chair at the most important Libyan military exercise in years coincided with a meeting he held only days earlier with the Russian ambassador to Libya, Aydar Aganin.

Speaking to Libyan media, Khaled criticized the country’s “deteriorating situation, the result of failed political outcomes” and rejected “agreements supported by foreign interests, which have caused entrenched corruption and prolonged the crisis.”

“Recently, both Belqasim and Khaled publicly opposed sending a delegation to Tunisia composed of representatives involved in the reunification dialogue and dispatched by Saddam,” Libyan journalist Mohammed Elgrj explained. “At that point, Boulos had to personally call both brothers to calm them down.”

For years, observers had hoped that a U.S. president would once again take an active role in Libya. After the 2012 Benghazi attack that killed Ambassador Christopher Stevens—a wound that remains open in Washington—many believed the Americans were finally prepared to provide decisive leadership.

According to Lacher, however, the result has been little more than a diplomatic mess.

“I do not believe that the current U.S. initiatives in Libya reflect serious, high-level interest from the Trump administration,” he said. “Boulos resembles someone casually inspecting a car without any real intention of buying it.”