The powerful explosion at Beirut port that devastated nearby neighbourhods was a dreadful accident in-waiting for which the country’s politicians shun blame. In well run countries, presidents and/or prime ministers accept ultimate responsibility for what happens on their watches. “The buck stops here,” is a phrase popularised by US President Harry Truman (1945-53), who took the view that since he was decision-maker he was obliged to accept responsibility for his decisions.

Since 2,700 tonnes of ammonium nitrate were off-loaded and stored unsafely in the port, two presidents — Michel Suleiman and Michel Aoun — and four prime ministers — Najib Mikati, Tammam Salam, Saad Hariri and Hassan Diab — have been in office. These men and the others serving with them have shrugged off blame.

“Passing the buck” has long been the Lebanese way of dealing with incompetence and negligence.

It is significant that Nassif Hitti, a former Arab League diplomat, stepped down as foreign minister shortly before the blast.  He argued, “I participated in this government on the basis that I have one employer named Lebanon, and I found (instead) many employers and conflicting interests.” He warned Lebanon was becoming a failed state and said if the politicians do not “come together around the interests of the Lebanese people and save them, then the ship, God forbid, will sink with everyone on board.” His reference to Lebanon as a sinking ship was bitterly apposite.

The Moldovan-flagged Rhosus was truly a “ship of fools.” It should never have set sail from Georgia, where it loaded ammonium nitrate bought by an explosives manufacturer in Mozambique. The vessel’s Russian owner, Igor Grechushkin, a resident of Limassol in Cyprus, did not have funds to cover the voyage. To raise Suez Canal dues, he agreed to divert to Beirut to collect Jordan-bound heavy equipment which could not be accommodated on the ship.  The port authorities declared it unseaworthy.

Grechushkin could afford neither port fees nor bribes which might have freed the ship. The port authorities impounded the vessel. He abandoned the Rhosus and its valuable cargo which, reportedly, had potential local buyers. The captain and three crew members remained on the ship for 11 months. When they were released the cargo was shifted to a warehouse 12,450 metres from the rusting Rhosus which sank in 2018. By that time the ammonium nitrate had begun to deteriorate. Aware that the destination of the cargo was an explosives plant, the Lebanese should have understood that storing it in the port was highly risky.

At least 10 times during the past six years, the authorities were urged to take action. In 2014, the Ministry of Transportation and the port authorities were informed by the Rhosus crew of the dangers posed by the ship’s cargo. The crew were told by the Director of Land and Sea Transportation that he had asked the Justice Ministry to take action to prevent the ship’s sinking and “expose the port to the danger of its load.” He also told the naval authorities to take action. A judge was warned about the situation in 2016 and 2017 but argued the court did not have jurisdiction.

Port worker Yusuf Shehadi told the Guardian the military had over-ridden warnings from officials and ordered the cargo to be stored in warehouse 12 although 30-40 bags of fireworks were already housed in the facility. Shehadi said workers were repairing the warehouse gate before the explosion took place. Presumably, sparks set off the fireworks which triggered the massive blast that swept through the city and flattened and damaged buildings within a nine-kilometre radius.

It is clear that the “buck stops,” in part, with the military officers who gave the order to store the ammonium nitrate in warehouse 12 and with the judge who refused to order it to be destroyed or moved to a protected location far from populated areas.

However, most of the responsibility for the disaster rests with the politicians. Ninety per cent of Lebanon’s imports flow through Beirut port which is near residential areas of the city. The majority of Lebanese argue the buck must, ultimately, stop with them and they must step down for the country to survive and recover from decades of mismanagement and corruption.

After the explosion, the people rather than the government took the lead in clearing up debris, rescuing civilians trapped in their homes, getting injured to hospital, and providing water and food to the needy. Instead of speeding foreign rescue teams with sniffer dogs to the port, their deployment was delayed and once they reached the site they were shunted away from the most devastated areas. No wonder Lebanese do not trust politicians and officials.

The political and commercial elite has rarely put Lebanon first. The country endured two civil wars due to squabbles among political factions.  Lebanon’s sea has been polluted by raw sewage, coasts appropriated by hotels and beach clubs, and mountainsides defaced by ugly blocks of flats. Beirut has been overwhelmed by unoccupied residential towers seen as good investments by expatriates and foreigners. Although the second civil war ended in 1990, electricity has not been restored to households, offices and manufacturing plants, forcing them to rely on their own or privately-owned generators. Since rivers have not been dammed to fill reservoirs, piped water is in short supply, compelling Lebanese to depend on tanker lorries.  Disputes over refuse collection and disposal have frequently left mounds of stinking rubbish in the streets of towns and cities.  Pollution from generator and vehicle fumes engulfs Beirut in a grey haze. Mobile telephony, essential to modern life, is the most expensive in the region.

Having harmed the country in multiple ways, the political elite proceeded to run up a massive debt, bankrupting the banks and the country and plunging Lebanon into its worst ever financial and economic crisis. The politicians have ignored protesters who took to the streets last October demanding an end to corruption, mismanagement and the sectarian regime imposed by France before independence in 1943.  Lebanon’s economy collapsed, precipitating half the population into poverty. Lebanese who marched from the port to Martyrs Square on Saturday called for accountability and democratic elections. For the weary Lebanese people, last Tuesday’s blasts must be a turning point.