The public squares and beaches of Beirut are crammed with people who have been displaced from the south of Lebanon and the city’s southern suburbs. The lucky ones have mattresses and blankets to sleep on. Thousands of shocked families have been camped out since the night of September 27th; following the Israeli strike that killed Hassan Nasrallah, the leader of Hizbullah, the Israeli army warned it would launch further attacks on Beirut. The southern suburbs, known as bastions of support for the Shia group, emptied within hours as people headed to seek safety in other parts of the capital and beyond.
In 2019 Martyrs’ Square in Beirut became the centre of a popular protest movement against Lebanon’s corrupt political class, which Hizbullah was seen as protecting. Today the square is a shelter for those who have fled Dahiyeh, the Hizbullah stronghold where Mr Nasrallah was killed, and one of the main focuses of Israel’s current air strikes. As its supporters sleep on the streets, and Lebanon faces what may be the largest displacement crisis in its history, the party is nowhere to be seen. Its supporters are relying on Lebanon’s chaotic caretaker government and their fellow citizens for help. Hizbullah itself has offered little support to the displaced.
On September 28th, as news spread that the group had confirmed Mr Nasrallah’s death, the atmosphere in Martyrs’ Square was sombre. There were groans and tears. Women in black chadors and bearded men wept for the charismatic cleric. On television, anchors burst into tears on air. In the streets of west Beirut, some fired their guns into the air in despair.
Since Mr Nasrallah’s killing Israel has continued to target Hizbullah’s leadership. On September 29th the group confirmed the death of Nabil Qaouk, another senior official. Intermittent air strikes on Dahiyeh and across the south continue. Some are audible from the square, prompting flinches and the utterance of prayers. At the site of the strike that killed Mr Nasrallah, rescue workers were burrowing deep under the rubble in search of bodies through the weekend. On September 29th it was reported that Mr Nasrallah’s body had been pulled from the blast site, apparently intact.
Israel’s assassination of the Hizbullah chief has shocked the country, just as the almost overnight devastation of the movement’s leadership has stunned its own followers. To many, Hizbullah’s dominance of the Lebanese state had seemed unalterable. It has drawn fierce criticism from across the political and sectarian spectrum in the past two decades, though such criticism could have deadly consequences. One retired army general, a Christian, said he was raising a glass of Laphroaig in happiness at Nasrallah’s death.
But he was an exception—and certainly he didn’t want to express his cheer publicly. Dima Sadek, a TV presenter who has faced death threats in recent years for her public criticism of Mr Nasrallah, was similarly loth to celebrate. “I dreamt that we would be victorious against you on the national front in the battle of freedom and the state,” she wrote to her 800,000 followers on X. “But not like this.” “We dreamt of the day of victory for freedom, not a moment of victory for the butcher,” she added.
Many Lebanese are extremely critical of Hizbullah, but they are even more opposed to Israel, says Karim Bitar, a professor at St Joseph University in Beirut. “Don’t underestimate the shock of the Lebanese population. An entire generation is waking up to politics, and Israel is planting the seeds of future wars,” he adds.
Searching questions are being asked about Hizbullah’s strategy over the past year. Even among its devoutly loyal followers, some are wondering why they are now suffering on behalf of other people. “My heart is with Gaza, and the Palestinians, but I am Lebanese first,” said Fawaz Mohammed, who fled on the night of September 27th. “We will be stronger after the martyrdom of the Sayyid [Nasrallah] but I have to ask why me and my family are sleeping on the street,” he added.
Assassinations hold a salient position in Lebanon’s modern history. The killing of Bachir Gemayel, the president-elect, in 1982 left his Maronite community orphaned, and was a critical moment in the country’s 15-year civil war. The killing of Rafik Hariri, the prime minister, in 2005, was similarly devastating for Sunnis, and ultimately led to the end of decades of Syrian occupation. In the weeks and months to come, the country will see whether Mr Nasrallah’s killing will now leave the Shia weak and abandoned, or whether Hizbullah can somehow rise from the ashes. Either will have fateful consequences in the proxy battles playing out between Israel and Iran.
Lebanon is now in the throes of three days of national mourning; but the war goes on, and a traumatised country is more fearful than ever about what comes next.
© 2024, The Economist Newspaper Limited. All rights reserved. From The Economist, published under licence. The original content can be found on www.economist.com
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