Lebanon Clashes Threaten to Crack Open Fault Lines

A Lebanese soldier walks near a burning motorcycle amid clashes between supporters of the Hezbollah and Amal groups, and anti-government protesters in the capital Beirut. (AFP)
A Lebanese soldier walks near a burning motorcycle amid clashes between supporters of the Hezbollah and Amal groups, and anti-government protesters in the capital Beirut. (AFP)
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Lebanon Clashes Threaten to Crack Open Fault Lines

A Lebanese soldier walks near a burning motorcycle amid clashes between supporters of the Hezbollah and Amal groups, and anti-government protesters in the capital Beirut. (AFP)
A Lebanese soldier walks near a burning motorcycle amid clashes between supporters of the Hezbollah and Amal groups, and anti-government protesters in the capital Beirut. (AFP)

Clashes between Lebanese protesters and supporters of the Hezbollah party are putting Lebanon’s military and security forces in a delicate position, threatening to crack open the country’s dangerous fault lines amid a political deadlock.

For weeks, the Lebanese security forces have taken pains to protect anti-government protesters, in stark contrast to Iraq, where police have killed more than 340 people over the past month in a bloody response to similar protests.

The overnight violence — some of the worst since protests against the country’s ruling elite began last month — gave a preview into a worst-case scenario for Lebanon’s crisis, with the country’s US-trained military increasingly in the middle between pro- and anti-Hezbollah factions.

By attacking protesters Sunday night, Hezbollah sent a message that it is willing to use force to protect its political power, said The Associated Press. Confronting the Iranian-backed Hezbollah, however, is out of the question for the military as doing so would wreck the neutral position it seeks to maintain and could split its ranks.

"The army is in a difficult position facing multiple challenges and moving cautiously between the lines," said Fadia Kiwan, professor of political science at Saint Joseph University in Beirut.

She said the military has sought to protect the protesters and freedom of expression but is increasingly grappling with how to deal with road closures and violence.

The UN Security Council urged all actors in Lebanon on Monday to engage in “intensive national dialogue and to maintain the peaceful character of the protests” by respecting the right to peaceful assembly and protest.

Calling this “a very critical time for Lebanon,” the UN’s most powerful body also commended Lebanon’s armed forces and state security institutions for their role in protecting the right to peaceful assembly and protest.

Sunday night’s clashes brought into full display the political and sectarian divisions that protesters have said they want to end.

Hezbollah supporters waving the group’s yellow flag shouted and taunted the protesters. The protesters chanted back, "This is Lebanon, not Iran," and "Terrorist, terrorist, Hezbollah is a terrorist" — the first time they have used such a chant.

The violence began when supporters of Hezbollah and the other main Shiite faction, Amal, attacked protesters who had blocked a main Beirut thoroughfare known as the Ring Road — a move the protesters said was aimed at exerting pressure on politicians to form a new government after Prime Minister Saad Hariri offered his resignation October 29.

Carrying clubs and metal rods, the Hezbollah followers arrived on scooters, chanting pro-Hezbollah slogans. They beat up several protesters. Both sides chanted insults, then threw stones at each other for hours.

Security forces stood between them but did little to stop the fighting. Finally, after several hours, they fired tear gas at both sides to disperse them. The road was eventually opened before daybreak Monday.

By that time, protesters’ tents were destroyed in areas close to the Ring Road. The windshields of cars parked near Riad al-Solh Square and Martyrs Square — the central hubs of the protests — were smashed as were the windows of some shops.

The nationwide protests have so far been overwhelmingly peaceful since they started October 17.

Politicians have failed to agree on a new Cabinet since Hariri’s government resigned.

Hezbollah and Amal insist Hariri form a new government made up of technocrats and politicians, but Hariri — echoing protester demands — says it must be made up only of experts who would focus on Lebanon’s economic crisis.

As the deadlock drags on, tempers are rising.

“The situation is moving toward a dangerous phase because after 40 days of protests, people are beginning to get tired and frustrated and might resort to actions that are out of control,” Kiwan said.

One person has been killed by security forces during the protests, while six have died in incidents related to the demonstrations. In the latest, a man and his sister-in-law burned to death Monday after their car hit a metal barricade erected by protesters on a highway linking Beirut with the country’s south.

Hezbollah issued a statement Monday condemning the road closure, painting the protests as a danger to the country. It called the deaths the result of "a militia attack carried out by groups of bandits who practice the ugliest methods of humiliation and terrorism against people."

In the increasingly tense atmosphere, “the role of the army is getting bigger,” Kiwan said.

The army is one of the few state institutions that enjoy wide support and respect among the public as it is seen as a unifying force in the deeply divided country. It has for the most part worked to defuse tensions and protect protesters, though on two occasions it allowed Hezbollah and Amal supporters to wreck tents at the main protest site in downtown Beirut, said the AP.

Hisham Jaber, a retired Lebanese general who heads the Middle East Center for Studies and Political Research, said the army is in a “delicate” position and could not have done more than it did Sunday night.

The military is already at the center of a debate in US policy-making circles. The Trump administration is now withholding more than $100 million in US military assistance to Lebanon that has been approved by Congress, without providing an explanation for the hold.

That has raised concerns among some in the US security community who see the aid — largely used to buy US-made military equipment — as key to countering Iran’s influence in Lebanon. Others, however, including pro-Israel lawmakers in Congress, have sought to defund the military, arguing it has been compromised by Hezbollah, which the US designates as a terrorist organization.

US administrations have long believed that a strong Lebanese army could be a counter to Hezbollah's weapons and could deprive the militants of the excuse to keep their arms.

The 70,000-strong force split along sectarian lines during Lebanon’s 1975-90 civil war. Since then, it has largely succeeded in achieving a level of stability by maintaining a tough balancing act that includes coordinating with Hezbollah on security matters.

Jaber said it is impossible for the security forces to clash with Hezbollah because "this will lead to divisions within the army."

"Hezbollah is a main part of the Lebanese people,” he said. “Getting the army into a battle with them would lead to pulling away part of the Lebanese army, and this could be followed by other groups splitting from the army."

"The Lebanese army is the pole of the tent. If the pole collapses, the whole country will collapse. It is the duty of the army to protect state institutions."



In Assad's Hometown, Few Shared in His Family's Fortune. They Hope they Won't Share in His Downfall

A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)
A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)
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In Assad's Hometown, Few Shared in His Family's Fortune. They Hope they Won't Share in His Downfall

A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)
A defaced portrait of ousted president Bashar al-Assad hangs on the wall of a building in the capital Damascus on December 17, 2024. (Photo by Sameer Al-DOUMY / AFP)

On the walls of the palatial mausoleum built to house the remains of former Syrian President Hafez Assad, vandals have sprayed variations of the phrase, “Damn your soul, Hafez.”
Nearly two weeks after the ouster of his son, Bashar Assad, people streamed in to take photos next to the burned-out hollow where the elder Assad’s grave used to be. It was torched by opposition fighters after a lightning offensive overthrew Assad's government, bringing more than a half-century rule by the Assad dynasty to an end, The Associated Press said.
The mausoleum's sprawling grounds — and the surrounding area, where the ousted president and other relatives had villas — were until recently off limits to residents of Qardaha, the former presidential dynasty's hometown in the mountains overlooking the coastal city of Latakia.
Nearby, Bashar Assad’s house was emptied by looters, who left the water taps running to flood it. At a villa belonging to three of his cousins, a father and his two young sons were removing pipes to sell the scrap metal. A gutted piano was tipped over on the floor.
While the Assads lived in luxury, most Qardaha residents — many, like Assad, members of the Alawite minority sect — survived on manual labor, low-level civil service jobs and farming to eke out a living. Many sent their sons to serve in the army, not out of loyalty to the government but because they had no other option.
“The situation was not what the rest of the Syrian society thought,” said Deeb Dayoub, an Alawite sheikh. “Everyone thought Qardaha was a city built on a marble rock and a square of aquamarine in every house," he said, referring to the trappings of wealth enjoyed by Assad's family.
In the city’s main street, a modest strip of small grocery stores and clothing shops, Ali Youssef, stood next to a coffee cart, gesturing with disdain. “This street is the best market and the best street in Qardaha and it’s full of potholes.”
Families resorted to eating bread dipped in oil and salt because they could not afford meat or vegetables, he said. Youssef said he dodged mandatory military service for two years, but eventually was forced to go.
“Our salary was 300,000 Syrian pounds,” a month, he said — just over $20. “We used to send it to our families to pay the rent or live and eat with it" while working jobs on the side to cover their own expenses.
"Very few people benefited from the former deposed regime,” Youssef said.
So far, residents said, the security forces made up of fighters from Hayat Tahrir al-Sham — the main group in the coalition that unseated Assad, and which is now ruling the country — have been respectful toward them.
“The security situation is fine so far, it’s acceptable, no major issues,” said Mariam al-Ali, who was in the market with her daughter. “There were a few abuses ... but it was fixed.” She did not elaborate, but others said there had been scattered incidents of robberies and looting or threats and insults.
Al-Ali called Assad a “traitor,” but she remained circumspect about her Alawite community's position in the new Syria.
“The most important thing is that there should be no sectarianism, so there will be no more blood spilled,” she said.
Dayoub, the Alawite sheikh, described “a state of anticipation and caution among all citizens in this area, and in general among Alawites,” although he said fears have started to ease.
At the town’s municipal building, dozens of notables sat on bleachers discussing the country' s new reality and what they hoped to convey to the new leadership.
Much was centered around economic woes — retired public servants' salaries had not been paid, the price of fuel had risen, there was no public transportation in the area.
But others had larger concerns.
“We hope that in the next government or the new Syria, we will have rights and duties like any Syrian citizen — we are not asking for any more or less,” said Jaafar Ahmed, a doctoral student and community activist. “We don’t accept the curtailment of our rights because the regime was part of this component.”
Questions also loomed about the fate of the area's sons who had served in Assad's army.
Since the army's collapse in the face of the opposition advance, residents said several thousand young army recruits from Qardaha have gone missing. Some later turned up on lists of former soldiers being held at a detention center in Hama.
“These are young guys who are 22 or 23 and they never took part" in active combat, said Qais Ibrahim, whose nephews were among the missing. Over the past few years, active combat was largely frozen in the country's civil war. “We send our children to the army because we don’t have any other source of income.”
Um Jaafar, who gave only her nickname out of fear of reprisals, said the family had no information about the fate of her two sons, stationed with the army in Raqqa and Deir Ezzour, though one son's name later turned up on the list of those imprisoned in Hama.
“My children got the best grades in school, but I didn’t have the ability to send them to the university,” she said. “They went to the army just for a salary that was barely enough to cover their transportation costs.”
Syria's new authorities have set up “reconciliation centers” around the country where former soldiers can register, hand over their weapons and receive a “reconciliation ID” allowing them to move freely and safely in Syria for three months.
But Ahmed, the doctoral student, said he wants more. As the country attempts to unify and move on after nearly 14 years of civil war, he said, “We want either forgiveness for all or accountability for all.”
Ahmed acknowledged that during the war, “rural Latakia was responsible for some radical groups,” referring to pro-Assad militias accused of widespread abuses against civilians. But, he said, opposition groups also committed abuses.
“We hope that there will be either an open process of reconciliation ... or transitional justice in which all will be held accountable for their mistakes, from all parties," he said.
"We can’t talk about holding accountable one ... group but not another.”