The locals’ rage: a Lebanese phenomenon is at play again

A play set in the country’s civil war reflects what we saw then and what we see now, most recently in Hezbollah’s rejection of the United Nations in Lebanon’s south.

The locals’ rage: a Lebanese phenomenon is at play again

In 1983, a satirical play by Ziad Rahbani called Shi Fashel (A Total Failure) follows a director and actors who want to perform a play about Lebanon called ‘Mountains of Glory,’ set in the imagined calm of a harmonious Lebanese village. Written and performed in the middle of the Lebanese civil war, the calm is shattered when a “stranger” steals the village’s jar, one that symbolically holds its secrets.

The theft elicits a collective anxiety, as villagers take a defiant stand. Yet the actors are so enraged by the actions of this mysterious ‘other’ (in Lebanon, the ‘other’ is anyone outside the narrow sectarian fold) that they demand new costumes befitting the gravity of the theft. This costs a small fortune. The producer cannot understand why it is necessary. After all, he has no idea what was inside that jar to justify such costly indignation. In the end, the play is a failure because the actors in the play (who are supposed to be from the harmonious village) dislike each other so much.

The stranger

The American author Mark Twain once said: “Humour is the good-natured side of a truth.” Indeed, the reason so much comedy is funny is because it contains a grain of truth. In traditional Lebanese politics, the identity of the ‘stranger’ is ever shifting. It has, at various times, been Muslims, Palestinians, Syrians, Christians, right-wingers, and Western allies, and anyone else deviating from a nationalist-Baathist-Islamist-leftist narrative—a legacy steeped in antagonism towards Lebanese sovereignty, independence, and statehood.

Perhaps Hezbollah and its supporters failed to notice that by inciting their followers to obstruct UNIFIL patrols in southern Lebanon, they were re-enacting the villagers’ performance in Rahbani’s play, only at a far steeper cost than new theatrical costumes. These confrontations with UNIFIL escalated after the July 2006 war, when the UN Security Council expanded the force’s mandate and bolstered its presence, charging it with preventing Hezbollah’s military resurgence south of the Litani River.

Among Hezbollah loyalists, “villagers’ rage” became a near-weekly ritual, blocking international patrols whenever they approached villages without prior coordination with the Lebanese army (which would then notify Hezbollah). Some incidents turned violent. An Irish UNIFIL soldier was killed by a Hezbollah supporter.

The locals

Following the latest war at the end of last year, “locals” began obstructing UNIFIL patrols once again, engaging in confrontations—thus far without deadly outcomes. Yet in the absence of any intervention from the Lebanese state, the situation could easily spiral, especially given Hezbollah’s refusal to acknowledge the extent of its defeat.

In traditional Lebanese politics, the identity of the 'stranger' is ever shifting

An active international presence in southern Lebanon is now crucial to deterring renewed Israeli aggression, especially with reports that Tel Aviv and Washington have reached agreement to end UNIFIL's mission. But Hezbollah cannot admit that it needs the UN. This mindset of denial, ironically, is one of the main reasons why Hezbollah suffered so badly in the autumn, losing thousands of fighters, its entire leadership hierarchy, and the bulk of its military arsenal.

It believes it can rebuild its capabilities despite constant Israeli surveillance, yet this is unmoored from reality. The fantasy of restoring Hezbollah's former military prowess mirrors the elusive "jar" in Rahbani's play: no-one truly knows what it ever held, nor how to retrieve it—unless the entire village unites against the 'stranger,' a unity conspicuously absent in today's Lebanon.

Dual rejection

One might reasonably ask why Hezbollah's rejection of international forces so closely mirrors Israel's longstanding opposition to their presence. UNIFIL makes economic, health, and developmental contributions where it operates. Furthermore, its withdrawal would strip Lebanon of its final link to international legitimacy, leaving it exposed and alone in the face of unchecked Israeli aggression.

Even if—as seems likely—Hezbollah would rather not resume hostilities with Israel (and it is currently unable to reclaim five Israeli-occupied hilltops), it nonetheless still resists any UN role not under its direct supervision, even though the November 2024 ceasefire agreement explicitly prohibits it from operating south of the Litani River and suspends all its armed activity indefinitely. This was the same ceasefire endorsed by Hezbollah and signed by its parliamentary ally, Nabih Berri.

It appears that Hezbollah, its base, and the "locals" want contradictory outcomes simultaneously. And, as ever, it is the Lebanese people who will bear the cost of these contradictions—just as they did last year.

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