Of the people, By the People and For the People: Hezbollah's Crime

Hezbollah remains in control but nowhere to be found

Wed., Jul 26, 3:25 PM ET | Agence France Presse
by Charles Levinson

A gentle tap on his right arm from a bearded man who said he was an
Islamic charity worker was all it took to warn Samir Asaad to quiet
down.

Hezbollah, Asaad had been saying, is providing food and other aid to
people trapped in the Lebanese village of Bassuriyeh, the hometown of
the Shiite movement's leader Hassan Nasrallah.

Then came the nudge. Asaad, who is overseeing a shelter for displaced
women and children here, quickly shut his mouth while the unassuming
volunteer set the record straight for visiting journalists.

"There is no Hezbollah here," corrected Ridar Damarjeh, who said he
was a local shop owner and a volunteer for an Islamic charity. "All
the Hezbollah are on the front lines fighting Israel."

Throughout Hezbollah-controlled south Lebanon, the Shiite guerrilla
movement, charity organization and political party, seems to have
disappeared leaving scarcely a trace.

But the popular grassroots movement which grew from within these
hillside villages remains a ubiquitous, if invisible, presence.

This village of a few thousand people, 15 minutes outside the southern
port of Tyre, is where the fiery cleric and wily military tactician
now at the helm of Hezbollah came of age.

Hassan Nasrallah, who was Hezbollah's military commander before he
ascended to the top spot, has turned his fighters into a mean
guerrilla force over the past two decades capable of dissolving into
the population at a moment's notice, analysts say.

"That is their style. They never show themselves," says Timur Goksel,
a professor at Beirut's American University and a former United
Nations advisor who spent years mediating between Israel and
Hezbollah.

"They don't need a command structure, or a headquarters. They know
their missions and work in small groups. They become invisible very
quickly."

It is one of the reasons the Israeli air campaign has exacted such a
disproportionate toll on Lebanese civilians. The militants Israel has
set out to destroy are woven deep into the social fabric of the
largely Shiite south.

In Nasrallah's hometown, in Hezbollah heartland, there are no gunmen
roving the village's narrow streets or lounging in its leafy gardens.
There are no spokesmen to answer the media's questions or local
leaders who admit fealty to the besieged Islamists.

The organization's fluttering yellow flags and posters of its leaders
and fallen "martyrs" are the only obvious reminder that this is
Hezbollah's domain.

Those who remain in south Lebanon's grassy farming villages despite
the relentless bombs, missiles and artillery shells, invariably insist
Hezbollah is elsewhere, even as unobtrusive minders follow curious
visitors about the village.

"Where is Hezbollah?" asks Salim Watfa, a retired Lebanese soldier,
who has refused to let the Israeli air campaign drive him from his
native village of Bassuriyeh. "Israelis are saying the resistance is
among us but do you see any fighters? There is no resistance here."

But even as the Israeli onslaught has forced its leadership deep
underground, Hezbollah, which won over hundreds of thousands of
supporters by pouring huge sums of money into clinics, schools and
cheap housing for downtrodden Shiites, appears to be quietly looking
after its flock.

In Tebnine, 30 minutes east of Bassuriyeh, somebody -- they don't know
who and prefer not to ask -- brings water each day to the 1,500
refugees in the village hospital.

"A man risks his life to bring us water from nearby wells each day,"
says Mohammad Zeineddin, the Lebanese army officer in charge of the
hospital turned refugee shelter.

"Who is he? It's better we don't ask. That's our way in times like
this."

Even as it operates largely below the radar, Hezbollah's long reach
makes its presence felt in other ways too.

One Western journalist spent days scouring the south Lebanese port
city of Tyre and the surrounding villages for a sign of the militants
who triggered the Israeli assault, but came up empty.

Then, two men showed up at his seafront hotel. He had asked too many
questions, they said. He would have to return to Beirut. The
journalist in question asked not to be identified fearing Hezbollah
retaliation.

"This is their counter intelligence. They have a very effective local
networks who report every thing that is going on," says Goksel, the
former UN advisor.

An ice cream vendor in downtown Tyre simply shrugs his shoulders when
asked about the shadowy organization. He knows they are around, he
says, but no one knows where.

"Even during peaceful times we never see them anywhere," says Ali
Mohammed, 56. "They are a part of the people. We don't know who is
Hezbollah and who is not. It could be you or me."

Copyright © 2006 Agence France Presse. All rights reserved. The
information contained in the AFP News report may not be published,
broadcast, rewritten or redistributed without the prior written
authority of Agence France Presse.