The sad news coming from Libya is not easy to keep up with. There are now two rival national parliaments, one in the west, another in the east, in addition to two prime ministers. And foreign military intervention has begun, with air strikes around Tripoli airport.

Everyone is braced for a military showdown between east and west.

The worst expectations are unfolding. For those following the news closely, however, there have been what look like two puzzling details.

First, the Islamists have long been described as being particularly entrenched in the eastern part of the country. In the current, ephemeral balance of power, though, they control Tripoli. It’s their adversaries – a coalition under the military command of former general Khalifa Haftar – who currently dominate Benghazi.

Second, the Islamists and their main ally, the city of Misurata, accuse Haftar and his political allies (an assortment of national leaders like Mahmud Jibril, regional leaders and federalists) of harbouring many former Muammar Gaddafi supporters who want to roll back the gains of the 2011 revolution.

Yet, wasn’t it the east that was firmly anti-Gaddafi in 2011 and the west that was split?

In one sense, these puzzling details can be explained quickly. One should not conflate military bases with political bases.

Militarily, Libya is divided on an east/west axis. But this division does not arise out of the regional political rivalry between western and eastern Libya, which some observers expected to lead to the splitting of the country.

The coalition controlling the west is a national one of regionally cross-cutting alliances, just like the other controlling the east. If one really must speak of a geographical axis organising the political rivalry – although it’s too simple – then it would be that of the coast, led by Misurata, versus the interior, led in the west by Zintan.

Islamists tend to be stronger in cities whereas the more conservative social structure of the interior tends to resist Islamism (which is hostile to several aspects of traditional social practice).

In other words, a different chain of events might easily have led the Zintan coalition to have the west as its military base and the Islamists controlling the east. Indeed, that’s what it was like until the summer.

As for the Islamists’ accusation that their adversaries harbour many former Gaddafi supporters and fighters, it does have some basis in truth.

Although I’ve met Libyans willing to share anecdotes about yokels who don’t believe Gaddafi is dead, there is no political grouping fighting on behalf of Gaddafi today, or that believes anything other than that the dead dictator belongs firmly to the past.

One should not conflate military bases with political bases

During 2011, however, it was a different matter. In the west, many ordinary Libyans fought for Gaddafi (though that fact slipped beneath the reporters’ radar) and even more argued with friends and family for his cause (or as the lesser evil).

After Gaddafi’s defeat, most Libyans drew a firm distinction between people who had simply supported Gaddafi and those who had committed atrocities or publicly called for the eradication of the rebels (the shibboleth was whether someone had ever followed Gaddafi in calling the then-rebels ‘rats’).

After Gaddafi’s fall, as the conflict between Zintan and Misurata mounted, Zintan used the national resources at its disposal to put various militias on the national payroll and within its political ken. Some of these militias included former Gaddafi fighters and sympathisers – some had even battled against fighters of the then National Transitional Council (but not against Zintan itself).

Zintan did this because it is a relatively small tribe and could not, on its own, hope to match the resources of Misurata, Libya’s third city.

Other allies joined because they feared the dominance of Misurata, if it acquired the political power to match its economic one. Others yet, even if firmly in the anti-Gaddafi camp in 2011, want to save the revolution from an Islamist takeover.

Hence, the situation we have today, where each coalition claims to be fighting to save the 2011 revolution from the other.

To what extent does this rivalry threaten to polarise and split the entire country?

The fact that this conflict is, politically, not based on an east/west axis, has double-edged consequences. An actual split into two states will not resolve the issue, since both states would have a significant proportion of citizens who sympathise with the adversary.

This means that few of the leaders in the conflict will be satisfied with a political split and, therefore, will not seek one. But it also means that escalation – a final showdown – might therefore offer itself as the only plausible alternative.

Meanwhile, the showdown over control of airports – Tripoli, Benghazi and several smaller ones – shows that it’s not just ideology that is fuelling the conflict.

There are several kinds of militias. Some are a local gendarmerie, well woven into the social fabric, trying to substitute the missing forces of law and order. Others are essentially criminal organisations, exploiting the absence of law and order. Others claim to be the new, exclusive force of law. And some are hybrid.

For all but the local gendarmeries, airports are strategic resources: a hub of legitimate trade, smuggling, border controls. Control the airport and, as we’ve learned over the last few months, you can control if and when the prime minister travels. Airports give economic and political leverage.

It’s no coincidence that the battle for Tripoli airport flared up soon after the result of the June parliamentary elections. Misurata and the Islamists need the airport to have leverage over a new Parliament in which they have less power than before.

They say the new Parliament does not reflect the true balance of opinion in the country. Possibly; the turnout was low, indicating ordinary Libyan frustration with the entire political class.

Up till now, the battle for airports had, so to speak, a social advantage. Because airports are situated at some distance from residential areas, fighting could take place without disrupting (too much) life in the heart of the city. The militias could have their war games without drawing in too many bystanders.

That is now changing. Egypt has denied any involvement in the air strikes over Tripoli earlier this week while, up to the time of writing, the United Arab Emirates chose not to deny the news that it was behind the bombing mission.

However, Egypt’s Abdel Fattah el-Sisi is openly hostile to Islamists, whether in Egypt or elsewhere. It’s implausible to think Egypt, currently working against Hamas in Palestine, will not involve itself against an Islamist force growing on its western border.

Likewise, it’s difficult to imagine that Algeria – which, in its anti-Islamist war in the 1990s, lost as many lives as have been lost in Syria – will remain neutral, not least since the North African branch of Al-Qaeda is basically an anti-Algerian organisation with a foothold in Libya.

If foreign military involvement deepens, it’s unlikely that ordinary Libyans will remain neutral.

The issue itself will become a new cause of polarisation – affecting both the conduct of the conflict itself and the outcome.

ranierfsadni@europe.com