Encounter with a fighter

By Eqbal Ahmad

Thousands of Lebanese raise the picture of Hizbullah martyr, Hadi Nasrallah, during his funeral in late June (photo: Reuters)

Sayed Hassan Nasrallah entered the hall in solemn dignity accompanied by Jawad, his teenage son. He stopped before each coffin and offered the Fatiha (the Muslim equivalent of the Lord's Prayer) until he reached the one marked 13. He beckoned an aide and spoke to him in a whisper. The aide summoned two workers of the Islamic Health Association, a Hizbullah outfit. They opened the coffin exposing a body wrapped in a white shroud. Sheikh Nasrallah's eyes closed, his lips trembled as he offered the Fatiha. Slowly, he bent over and tenderly stroked the head of Hadi Nasrallah, his eldest son who was 18-years-old when he died in battle on 13 September. Jawad, the younger son stood still and pale next to his father. A deep silence fell on the room while his right hand rested on his son's chest. It was broken by the clicking of a reporter's camera but promptly returned when Sheikh Nasrallah looked up in cold surprise.

I witnessed the event on television and also read a sensitive account of the awesome scene in the Daily Star, Beirut's English-language daily. So when Eric Rouleau, Le Monde's eminent Middle East reporter before becoming France's ambassador to Tunisia then Turkey, suggested that we meet Sheikh Nasrallah, I readily agreed. Colleagues from the daily Al-Safir arranged the meeting and took us into the well-guarded Shi'a neighbourhood in south Beirut which serves as Hizbullah's headquarters.

Our first surprise: women modestly dressed but without hijab moved about their businesses even inside the Hizbullah compound. Another notable observation: unlike the erstwhile PLO compounds and offices in Beirut, there were but few uniformed and armed men visibly around. The stronghold of the most effective armed organisation in the Middle East had a completely civilian look, a fact that normally implies intelligent and efficient security arrangements.

Sheikh Nasrallah met us in an adequately furnished apartment which apparently serves as the leadership's meeting place. At the entrance, we were met by a large framed photograph of Ayatullah Ruhullah Khomeini. A big rough rug of Qum design covered the floor in the meeting room.

"Ijtihad makes permissible adaptations to the requirements of time and place, permits one to respond to new demands -- be they specific or general -- upon the indiviudal and community, state and society." Hassan Nasrallah

A clock and two framed Qur'anic verses hung on the wall. The fresh flowers on the side table were tastefully arranged next to a framed photograph of his son Hadi, in parachutist's uniform, his sparse beard sprouting green. The sheikh is 38-years-old, of medium height, round white face framed by black beard; clear brown eyes behind glasses suggest a shrewd and good humoured man. He wore the black turban and tunic of the Shi'a cleric. A forelock defiantly protruded from the turban hinting that the sheikh does not quite conform to the commonly held notion of the proper Islamic haircut. An aide, an austere looking man of about 35, also sat in the room and occasionally joined in the discussion.

I understand you studied in Qum? I asked at one point. "Not quite," he said, "I was there for only two months. I went to school right here in Beirut where my family lived. My father was a vegetable vendor, poor migrants from south Lebanon, large family. No one from my family had been a cleric before; I am one of those few who have no family claim to this profession. After my schooling in Beirut, I was selected to study in Najaf Sharif [in Iraq] where I spent two years, then returned to finish my studies in Baalbek."

When did you become involved in politics? "I joined Amal (the Shi'a party led by Nabih Berri) at age 14 and was elected head of the party branch in my town at age 18. When I left Amal, I was a member of the party's Central Committee. I left Amal, rather I was expelled from it, in 1982 after the Israeli invasion because I was among those who wanted armed resistance against the Israeli occupation."

This was a fair profile of the average Hizbullah leader and cadre. Most come from poor Shi'a families from the south of Lebanon, most have served their political probation in Amal or the Palestinian Fatah. For most, Islamic and Shi'a politics has been a vehicle of communal as well as individual mobility. Sheikh Nasrallah rose to become the Hizbullah chief of military operations, then its secretary-general, and remains a prize quarry of Israel's military and intelligence agencies. We began by asking how his party reconciles the demands of contemporary life with religious laws and traditions which date back to the Middle Ages. How does Hizbullah propose to negotiate the often large gaps between tradition and modernity? Notably absent from his reply were the stock assertions of the eternal and universal nature of Shari'a.

"We should begin by noting a significant difference in the doctrinal development of Sunni and Shi'a schools of thought," he said. Among the Sunnis, the doors of "ijtihad" (issuing Islamic rulings on issues not mentioned in the Qur'an or the tradition of the Prophet) were closed some centuries ago, and despite the advocacy of several Sunni scholars, they have not been re-opened. In the Shi'a tradition, the doors of ijtihad were never closed, and the mujtahid (person who issues the rulings) has remained a figure of great importance and influence."

The sheikh proceeded to explain that the "consequences of this openness are far-reaching. It can affect in profound ways the relationship between state and religion, law and society, the community and its traditions. Ijtihad makes permissible adaptations to the requirements of time and place, permits one to respond to new demands -- be they specific or general -- upon the individual and community, state and society. It allows a Muslim society to dispense with traditional forms and practices when they are not any more appropriate to its needs, and encourages the evolution of new forms. There is a need to expand the scope of ijtihad in all schools of Islamic thought."

Fair enough, but how do you reconcile the existence of an Islamic party in Lebanon, a multi-religious, multi-denominational country in which no one party can impose its ideological agenda on all others? In other words, why an Islamic party in a country which cannot accommodate an Islamic statehood? Sheikh Nasrallah's reply: "Your question assumes the uniformity of mission and political agenda among Islamic parties. Between Hizbullah and the Taliban, there is a large gap of objective and outlook [smile and the cast of an ironic eye at his Pakistani guest!], yet both are Islamic. Our primary objective has been resistance to Israeli occupations. I993 was a watershed of sorts as Israel's invasion then, and our resistance to it, brought us national legitimacy that made even Christians accept Hizbullah as an authentic national force. As for our ideological mission, to be Islamic in Lebanon entails the Islamisation of the Muslim individual and community, its values and way of life."

Given the centrality of resistance against Israel to Hizbullah's programme and party structure, we raised a question about the scope and future of armed resistance. What will happen when Israel withdraws from Lebanon which, in view of its recent demarche, may in fact occur? "We shall not accept a withdrawal based on Israeli conditions. Liberation cannot be conditional. Israel committed aggression, it occupies our land, it is our sacred right to resist, and this resistance shall continue until it withdraws."

Does this principle apply to Palestine also, and to the Golan Heights? "The strategies of Syria and Lebanon are linked. As for the Palestinians, if their leaders compromise there is little we can do. We cannot substitute for their leadership. If they decide to resist we shall be on their side."

What then is your vision of Palestine? "We wish for the liberation of the Palestinian people among whom we count Jews, Muslims and Christians."

By then, I had become impressed by how closely Sheikh Nasrallah's views parallel those of Iran's President Mohammed Khatami and his associates. To confirm this suspicion we raise an issue which defines the divide between reformists and conservatives in contemporary Iran -- the powers and role of the Faqih.

Sheikh Nasrallah's carefully worded answer was quite nuanced: "Vilayet-i-Faqih is an elective office. The Faqih [Ali Khameini] is elected by the Assembly of Experts [Majlis-i-Khabargan]. So the source of his power is the people. Then there is the president who is directly elected by the people, as is the parliament [Majlis]. Together the three institutions constitute Iran's democracy. They need to work in a framework of exchange and collaboration. Of course, the case of Imam Khomeini was special: he was the revered choice of all the people."