Lebanon ushers in a new chapter with death of Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah

Beirut

Standing near a stage enveloped by prayers and songs of mourning, I was among the thousands of people thronging the Camille Chamoun sports stadium in Beirut on February 23. Most of them donned black, and those who didn’t, carried a sense of darkness regardless. Armed with yellow flags and photos of the ones they had lost, they had come to say a final farewell to Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah.

Since 1992, Nasrallah had served as secretary-general of Hezbollah, a Shia group that is a political and military entity in Lebanon and plays a significant role in shaping the geopolitics of the region. He was assassinated on September 27 last year by an Israeli airstrike during the Israel-Hezbollah war in Lebanon.

During the two months of the war, airstrikes at night were almost routine. At 10pm, I would set up my camera near the window of my apartment and sit at my table, waiting for Israel to unleash rockets on the southern suburb of Dahye. Amid the surreal normalcy of this life, the strike that killed Nasrallah, 64, stood out. The fires were gigantic, and the colour orange lit up the dark Beirut sky for many seconds, the flames moving to the sound of secondary explosions.

Following the lapse of the two-month ceasefire deal, the party conducted the funeral ceremony for its slain leader. Attendees at the event included delegations from its regional allies Iran and Yemen, and thousands of Lebanese who were there to pay their respects. Many of them bore his portraits, and some carried flowers that they hoped to place on his coffin. In the stands, I found crying women holding printed photos of Nasrallah and other Hezbollah members who died fighting.

Sara Taqi, a 32-year-old English teacher from Ghaziyeh in south Lebanon, said Nasrallah was like her father. “We were expecting a large turnout. We are so happy, our hearts are full. Look at the number of people here―both inside and outside the stadium. This is proof that everyone loves him,” she said, a glimmer of sadness in her eyes.

After the war, Hezbollah had organised a memorial service for its late leader at the site where he had been killed. The area had previously been inaccessible to the media and the general public. The site was a gigantic crater where multiple multi-storey buildings had once stood. There were massive piles of mud littered with debris that media members and Hezbollah supporters were scrambling onto alike. At that time many of those who had been displaced by the war were reeling from its effects and trying to get back on their feet. Holding the funeral in February allowed supporters like Qati to travel from the south and other parts of the country to pay their respects.

The air of the stadium was permeated by an odd mix of sorrow and steadfastness. Regularly, they would erupt into passionate cheers of “At your service, Nasrallah,” and “Death to Israel”, the fisted arms of men and women raising in unison.

There are no real figures for Hezbollah fighters or Lebanese civilians who fell in the war. Yet, the death of the leader, whose speeches were awaited with anticipation by many in Lebanon, dealt a massive blow to the morale of the group. Following the war, Hezbollah’s military capabilities were affected. The ceasefire deal that was established was far from ideal for the group’s goals.

In the 60 days that followed, Israel was expected to slowly withdraw its troops from the villages in the south, while the Lebanese army was deployed to secure the area. But, there were multiple instances of Israeli airstrikes and airspace violations in the form of sonic booms. As people returned to their villages, many Lebanese citizens were killed by Israeli airstrikes and gunfire.

Now, after the lapse of the 60-day period, Israel still retains five military positions in Lebanon, in a violation of the ceasefire agreement that required a full Israeli withdrawal. The positions are at strategic points along the blue line―an unofficial border established by the United Nations in 2000.

The funeral ceremony was for both Nasrallah and his heir apparent Hashem Safieddine, who was also killed during the Israel-Hezbollah war. But, the collective sentiment was in large part a sense of loss for the former, who, outside of his politics, was known for his charismatic presence.

“He really was a leader,” said Taqi.

Nineteen-year-old Zeina Mrouwe struggled to speak about him, her voice choking up with emotion. “At first, we didn’t believe that he had died,” she said. “We thought he might still be alive. It feels like he wasn’t just the secretary-general of Hezbollah―he was like my brother and my father.”

Taqi, too, expressed this sense of disbelief. “I cried a lot [when I heard about his death]. We were stunned, we wore black,” she said. “It really made us sad. But I said we have to stay strong, we have to stand up, we have to continue.”

Not all parts of Lebanon’s population feel so positively about Hezbollah and its leadership. Many consider that the group’s assumed role as a “resistance” movement should be one that is borne by the state. There is also great controversy around the group blocking economic and judicial reform, most significantly in the case of the deadly 2020 port blast―the world’s largest non-nuclear explosion.

Hezbollah’s role as an ally of the Assad regime in Syria was also not supported by many locally and internationally, reinforcing the notion that it is but Iran’s arm of influence in the region as an “axis of resistance” against western powers.

The end of the war marked a period of massive political change in Lebanon. After a two-year vacuum in the post, US-backed Joseph Aoun was voted in as the country’s president in January this year, with Nawaf Salam being elected prime minister. Hezbollah also lost its “blocking third” in the new government, which took away its power to stall political reforms and major governmental decisions.

Soon after, the visit of the US deputy special envoy to the Middle East, Morgan Ortagus, sparked widespread anger as she spoke strongly against Hezbollah’s involvement in the new government. She was pictured wearing a Star of David ring in a photo with the new president, though Lebanon has no diplomatic ties with Israel and does not recognise its existence.

Hezbollah supporters took to the streets, burning Israeli and American flags, and condemning what they saw as blatant foreign interference. In the days that followed, air traffic from Iran, Hezbollah’s strongest ally in the region, was suspended by the new government. More stringent regulation of air traffic and the overthrow of the Assad regime are expected to force the group into a corner in terms of sourcing money and resources either via Syria or Iran.

The suspension of air traffic sparked more violent protests by Hezbollah supporters, which led to the injury of a member of a United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL).

At the funeral, people watched the coffins of their leaders with teary eyes―two large boxes draped in Hezbollah’s bright yellow, bearing photos of the deceased. As the funeral procession began, people threw flowers at the coffin to take Nasrallah’s blessings. The pallbearers tossed the flowers back into the throng. Beside me, a cameraman began to sob. In the seats above me, women and men cried, clutching their chests.

The moment of mourning was interrupted by a loud whoosh, reminiscent of the sound preceding an airstrike. Fearful eyes turned to the sky, and within seconds, tears of sorrow turned to those of defiance.

“Death to Israel, death to Israel”, the crowds chanted, straining for their voices to overpower the sound of the Israeli fighter jets in the sky.

On the day of the funeral, Avichay Adraee, Arabic spokesperson for the Israeli army, published footage of the strike that killed Nasrallah―drone footage that shows the demolishing of a massive area of land. Later, he published a cartoon of Nasrallah among other slain Hezbollah members in what looks like a fiery inferno. “Gathering loved ones where they belong,” it was captioned.

In the dawn after war and major political shifts in the region, what lies in store for Hezbollah, and Lebanon at large, remains to be seen.

Taqi said, with changes in the governance and following the war, the resistance had to be stronger. Though its leader was no more, she hoped to carry on his legacy.

“We need to bring up our children [in such a way] that they carry and protect the path of the resistance,” she said. “Hopefully Sayyed Hassan will be proud of us.”