Battered but defiant - where next for Hezbollah in Lebanon? - Voice of Asia

On January 26th, thousands of displaced Lebanese people attempted to return to their homes in southern Lebanon. They formed convoys, played revolutionary songs, and proudly waved Hezbollah's yellow flags. However, many discovered that their homes were gone after more than a year of war, marking a somber homecoming.

They mourned their losses and posted posters of the group's late leader, Hassan Nasrallah, on the ruins of destroyed buildings. The day marked the deadline for the withdrawal of Israeli troops as part of a US- and French-brokered ceasefire that called for Hezbollah to remove its weapons and fighters from the south. The agreement would also facilitate the deployment of thousands of Lebanese soldiers in the area. But Israel said Lebanon had not fully implemented the agreement, so not all invading forces had withdrawn. Lebanon, in turn, accused Israel of stalling.

Predictably, violence ensued. In some areas, Israeli soldiers opened fire, killing 24 people, including a Lebanese soldier. Nevertheless, for Hezbollah, which for decades had been the dominant force in southern Lebanon, the violence provided an opportunity to display strength after being battered in its conflict with Israel. But can the organization survive a series of transformations in Lebanon and a reshaping of power in the Middle East?

For years, Hezbollah, the Shiite Muslim militia, political, and social movement, has solidified its position as Lebanon's most powerful group. Backed by Iran, it built a military force stronger than the Lebanese army. The use of violence was always an option. A powerful parliamentary bloc meant no major decisions could be made without its consent, and Lebanon's fractured political system guaranteed it representation in the government. In short, Hezbollah had the ability to paralyze the country—and did so on multiple occasions.

The recent conflict began in October 2023, when Hezbollah opened a second front against Israel as it waged war on Gaza in response to the Hamas attacks. Hostilities escalated sharply last September, as Israel penetrated the organization in ways that had been previously unimaginable. First, the pagers carried by its members exploded. Then their walkie-talkies. Relentless airstrikes and a subsequent invasion of the south killed more than 4,000 people, including many civilians, leaving predominantly Shiite Muslim areas—which constitute much of Hezbollah’s support—in ruins and severely damaging the organization’s arsenal.

Many leaders were assassinated, most notably Nasrallah, who had served as Hezbollah's leader for more than three decades. His successor, former number two Naim Qassem, is less charismatic or influential than him, and he has admitted that they suffered painful losses. The ceasefire agreement that went into effect in November was, in essence, a surrender for the organization, which is considered a terrorist group by the US, UK, and other countries.

In this new reality, last month, the Lebanese parliament finally elected a new president—former army commander Joseph Aoun, who is favored by the Americans—after more than two years of deadlock, which critics blamed on Hezbollah. With its strength diminished, the organization was unable to block the process as it had in the past.

Another sign of its declining stature was Aoun's subsequent appointment of Nawaf Salam as prime minister, who at the time was serving as president of the International Court of Justice and is not aligned with the organization.

Hezbollah currently seems focused on another priority: its base. The organization told its followers that defeat in the war was victory, but many know that is not true. Their communities have been destroyed, with building losses estimated by the World Bank at more than $3 billion (£2.4 billion).

In a country facing economic collapse, no one knows who will help—if anyone will, since international assistance is predicated on the government taking steps to curb Hezbollah’s power. The organization has already paid compensation to some families, as it did after the 2006 war, but signs of discontent have already emerged.

"If people are still living in tents in six months, or living in the ruins of their homes, they might start blaming Hezbollah, not the government or Israel. That’s why they’re putting so much energy now into trying to get ahead of that," said Nicholas Blanford, a Beirut-based senior fellow at the Atlantic Council’s Middle East programs, and author of Warriors of God: Inside Hezbollah’s Thirty-Year Struggle Against Israel. "In the current context, you can push back against Hezbollah a little bit."

But any action against Hezbollah comes with risks.

On January 26th, hours after people tried to return to the south, young men on motorcycles crisscrossed non-Shiite areas of Beirut and elsewhere at night, honking their horns and carrying Hezbollah flags. In some areas, residents confronted them. In a country where sectarian divisions run deep and many still remember the 1975-1990 civil war, the convoys were seen as a tactic of intimidation.

Hezbollah wields "an implicit threat of violence" because of its military strength, Mr. Blanford said. "If you push them too hard," he said, "they will smack you hard." A Western diplomatic official, speaking on condition of anonymity to discuss private conversations, told me: "We have been telling actors here [in the opposition] and other countries: if you push Hezbollah into a corner, it could backfire, and the risk of violence is real."

Still, a new chapter has opened in Lebanon, a country exhausted by endemic corruption, government mismanagement, and seemingly endless violence. The combination has resulted in a dysfunctional state.

Addressing the Lebanese parliament during his inaugural address, Aoun pledged ambitious and long-delayed reforms, knowing that without profound change, Lebanon cannot be saved. He vowed to rebuild public institutions, revitalize the economy, and, crucially, make the Lebanese army the country's sole bearer of arms. Aoun did not mention Hezbollah by name, but that is what he meant. Lawmakers applauded enthusiastically; Hezbollah's parliamentarians observed silently.

But the decision about Hezbollah’s existence as a military force may be made far from Lebanon—in Iran. For decades, Tehran has invested weapons and money in a regional alliance it calls the Axis of Resistance, which forms a ring of fire around Israel. Hezbollah is its main player. With thousands of well-trained, battle-hardened fighters and a vast arsenal that includes long-range, precision-guided missiles on Israel’s doorstep, the group serves as a deterrent to an Israeli attack on Iran’s nuclear facilities.

That deterrent has now vanished—and rebuilding it, should that be Iran’s desire, will not be easy.

The collapse of the Assad regime in Syria—partly due to Hezbollah’s setbacks—interrupted the land corridor Tehran used to arm and fund the organization. Israel, which has gathered extensive intelligence on Hezbollah, has indicated that it will continue to strike the group to thwart its rearmament efforts.

"Only Iran can really answer the fundamental questions about Hezbollah," Mr. Blanford told me. "There’s a possibility that Iran or they [Hezbollah] could decide to try to think differently, to disarm or just be a political party and a social movement," he said. "But [ultimately] it’s an Iranian decision, beyond Hezbollah’s control."

I asked a source familiar with Hezbollah’s internal affairs whether talk of the organization disarming was realistic. The source said the question could be part of a "bigger, regional negotiation," seeming to refer to Iran’s stated willingness to strike a deal with the West over its nuclear program. The source added, "There’s a difference between giving up weapons completely or using them in a framework of cooperation with the state, which is another possibility."

Lebanon's new leaders face pressure to act quickly. Foreign allies see the reshaping of the Middle East’s balance of power as an opportunity to further weaken Iran’s influence, while Lebanese people yearn for some kind of stability and for everyone to play by the rules. People here dislike being described as "resilient," for their ability to keep going amid chaos. "We just want to live in a ‘normal country,’" I heard last year from a frustrated resident in a largely Christian area of Beirut. Equally, after so much suffering, even Hezbollah’s supporters may be questioning what role the organization should play.

Hezbollah is unlikely to return to its pre-war state. Disarmament may no longer be as unthinkable as it once was.