Children of Jihad: A Young American's Travels Among the Youth of the Middle East (17 page)

Hezbollah students look no different than their peers once in the university. They attend the same classes, dress in the same manner, and are extremely cautious about their identity. Among Hezbollah students, roughly 70 percent enroll in the sciences, while the remaining 30 percent usually study some form of politics. The youth invited to become part of the
military wing
of Hezbollah are even more likely to blend into the student body: They are forbidden from revealing their affiliation to anybody. Those who are in Hezbollah’s militia keep the secret from their friends, colleagues, and even in some cases their family. In the words of one Hezbollah party member I interviewed at a café in West Beirut, “You can’t know if they are soldiers. He might pretend he is part of a nation and have a social life, but he might in fact be a soldier.”

Among their peers, Hezbollah youth use a sophisticated and structured word-of-mouth network to spread the group’s message. They spend a great deal of time on e-mail, reaching out not just to Shi’a students, but also to Sunni, Druze, and even Maronites. They pay close attention to the comments other students make in class and around campus, looking for any mention of a topic that they can use as an excuse to strike up an e-mail conversation and invite a potential recruit for coffee, lunch, or some other get-together to discuss the issues.

Hezbollah students seamlessly blend into university life. This can change instantly, however, at the order of Hezbollah’s leader, Hassan Nasrallah. When Hezbollah calls on its operatives to join an initiative, its student members are so committed to the organization that they will drop everything to take part. It is sometimes the case, however, that these students can best serve the cause by staying in the university. One Hezbollah member told me on the Lebanese American University campus that if all members were called to jihad, they would have to take part; “taking part,” however, may entail fighting the jihad on the university campus by disseminating information and launching a subtle campaign of propaganda. Hezbollah indoctrination is a cycle, as they try to get potential recruits to transform from sympathizer to supporter to member to possible suicide murderer.

Until that call to action comes, these students will rarely admit to being a member of Hezbollah the organization, instead describing themselves as part of Hezbollah the political party. It is important to distinguish between the two. Membership in the organization is reserved for a specific cadre of operatives: Shi’a men who have undergone necessary theological and military training. Outside of the organization of Hezbollah, the specific roles of these members are ambiguous and often unknown. But these men make up the core of Hezbollah: After all, despite its social, philanthropic, and political wings, Hezbollah is fundamentally a paramilitary organization with a military that dwarfs that of its host government.

O
ne afternoon I met
with five Shi’a students, only one of whom I had actually met on a prior occasion. His name is Bashar and I encountered him sitting among friends at the upper gate of one of Lebanon’s universities. They were hanging out on a cement ledge, clearly enjoying themselves as their feet dangled just above the asphalt patio. It seemed like a nice summer afternoon for them: lounging, staring at girls, talking about the people walking by, and making jokes. There was a small crowd that gravitated toward them and others who looked their way, some evoking feelings of jealousy and others displaying a sense of envy. These were the cool kids. I timidly approached them and asked if they would fill out a survey.

“Sure, we will have some fun with this,” Bashar said. We started talking, and I learned that they were all Shi’ites and all big supporters of Hezbollah. This wasn’t because they told me but because they answered some of the questions on the survey out loud.

One of them read, “Do you see Hezbollah as a terrorist party?”

In a collective exclamation, they yelled, “Nooooooooooooooo,” as if they were touting it with pride.

The same boy read the next question, “Do you see Hezbollah as an organization that represents you?”

Again, that collective exclamation, “Yessssssssssssss,” this time followed with celebratory jubilation. I explained to them that I was trying to find a way to interview youth in Lebanon, and they were eager to give me their phone numbers to meet up. I guess I didn’t picture members of Hezbollah hanging out on university steps, smoking cigarettes, and dressed in designer clothing. I had only seen images of them with black face masks, headbands with Arabic writing on them, and bands of bullets across their chests.

They filled out my surveys, but I didn’t look at what they wrote until after we parted ways.

 

In one sentence, if the United States could change anything to gain the support of the youth, what should it do?

 

One of the kids had written, “America is the biggest imperialist and the only thing I want is to see America destroyed.” Another survey read, “Nothing. We hate the American government, they support Israel and kill Palestinians.” These words sent chills down my spine.

Following my arrangements with Bashar, we all met at a kebab fast-food restaurant near Bliss Street in downtown Beirut. It had that cafeteria feel to it, with the buffet-style servings and the plastic trays. It was filled with students, some studying while chowing on some kebab, others just socializing with friends and using food as the excuse. In the same way that I could smell McDonald’s before even entering the fast-food joint, the smell of mass-produced beef kebab lingered in the air. But I wasn’t fussy, because they were paying. The only people I recognized were Bashar, who was wearing a backward New York Yankees hat, and his friend, whose name I couldn’t remember. The other three kids were new.

I sat down, introduced myself, and gave what became my usual pitch to his friends.

“I’m doing research on youth in the Middle East to try and make the world aware of how you all think and what is important to you. I have not come here to judge, but rather collect perspectives….” And so on. This was my way of appearing amiable and disarming to them.

They were all business. No sooner had we finished introductions than they began speaking about the highly contentious Arab-Israeli conflict. As it turned out, three of the guys present were members of Hezbollah and the others were Shi’a supporters of the organization, meaning they were part of the Hezbollah political party. Mohammad was one of the political party members. He was big, but not fat. His hair was disheveled and bushy, which as I would later infer had likely resulted from the mere two to three hours of sleep he had had the previous night. He insisted on letting me know who he was, and by this I realized he meant a particular category of people.

“I am a Shi’ite from Dahiyeh, but I am not a member of Hezbollah,” he explained to me. “Without Hezbollah I would not have seen my village. I am now twenty-one years old and I saw my country—my village—just from the year two thousand because it was conquered. So Hezbollah brought me home. We are grateful to them. Now, if we don’t support Hezbollah politically and vote for them, they do not have the legitimacy they need to continue.”

His friend Omar nodded in agreement. Positioned with his elbows on the table he explained to me how they view themselves vis-à-vis Hezbollah: “We are part of a nation that admires what Hezbollah did; we are a people who support, admire, vote for, and recognize the Party of God.”

A third member of the group, Ali, introduced himself to me as a committee member of Hezbollah. This was a subtle way of letting me know he was actually part of the organization, although he wouldn’t tell me in what capacity.

“Let me ask you this,” he said. “If someone came into your house and murdered your sister in the middle of the night, what would you want to do to that person?” This was kind of a random question and certainly out of context. I wasn’t exactly sure where he was going.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I mean, what would you want to see happen to that person?” Was he interviewing me? I thought about it for a minute and told him quite honestly, “I would want to see that person punished as much as possible.”

“How old is your sister?” he asked.

“Twenty-six,” I said.

There was a long pause. His face said that he had a point, but I had no idea what it was.

“In 1996, the Israeli military came to my house and shot my sister. Do you know how old she was? She was six years of age.”

I didn’t know what to say in response, so I waited for him to continue.

“You said you would want that person to suffer as much as possible, so you can see and understand why we want to fight against Israel. It is our right to seek justice.”

He had put words in my mouth and tricked me into agreeing with him. He had me cornered. This was my glimpse at how Hezbollah recruits new members, how they sell their ideology, and how they make their points. Regardless of what one might think of Hezbollah—and there are certainly varying opinions—the operatives are strategic and well-trained in spreading their message. They can be very convincing to someone without knowledge and can be very manipulative to someone with knowledge. They always tried to pull this trick on me and it was surprising how often it worked.

We moved on to other issues. I asked them about the relationship between Hezbollah and the Palestinians. This was something I had been particularly curious about. Like Palestinian militant groups, Hezbollah had also directed much of its effort against Israel, yet while Palestinian groups were predominantly Sunni Muslim, Hezbollah was Shi’a. A Druze friend had told me that Hezbollah will never help the Palestinian groups because they are Shi’a and the Palestinians are Sunni; they will fear that the Sunni won’t appreciate their support. There is no way that my Druze friend was correct. All I had heard from Shi’a and Sunni was a similar gripe against Israel. As a Jew, these sentiments would always make me quiver, but that was all the more reason to understand where their perspectives came from.

Ali fielded my question. He explained that as Hezbollah, he wanted peace in Lebanon, which he felt included the disputed Shaba Farms. Shaba Farms is one of the last remaining pieces of land that Hezbollah claims to be fighting for and undoubtedly the most significant in size and location. It is located on the border of Syria, Lebanon, and Israel, and Hezbollah has attempted to lay claim to the land as belonging to the Lebanese. In reality, Shaba Farms has been Hezbollah’s excuse to continue its military expeditions. Ali said as Hezbollah, he will fight Israel over Shaba Farms, but it is not his responsibility to fight Israel over the Palestinian issue. After explaining this to me, he was careful to at least mention that he would support the Palestinians at the UN. I facetiously thought to myself,
That is so diplomatic of you,
but I hardly believed it.

Lacking confidence in Ali’s answer, I pushed harder to figure out what the connection was between Hezbollah and the Palestinians. He sensed my skepticism and muttered something incomprehensible to his friend. He was either pissed off at me for not believing him, or he was frustrated that I didn’t understand his answer.

One of the other boys spoke up. His name was Karim and he was the oldest of the group, but I thought the least articulate. He wore a tattered white T-shirt and ripped blue jeans. He looked like he had just crawled out of bed. His answer was a little more believable as he explained, “We as Hezbollah are not fighting for the Palestinians; we are supporting the Palestinians because they also defend their country, which is Palestine.” Of course, Karim was careful not to give the details of what that “support” entailed.

I knew I could squeeze these details out if I just pushed a little bit, so this is what I did. Karim took the bait and explained that they might support them financially, but they will never send them soldiers. It made sense to me now. Thematically it appeared as though Hezbollah saw eye-to-eye with their Palestinian colleagues. They shared a common enemy in Israel, but their objectives, grievances, and struggles were different.

Ali chimed back in, explaining that it is not their pleasure to have peace with Israel and that most Lebanese don’t want this. Karim had already made this point, but I think he didn’t like someone else being the center of attention.

When I asked why they don’t want peace with Israel, Mohammad, who up until now had been the quiet one, offered a fiery answer. “We can’t have peace with a country that shouldn’t exist. If we accept Israel, then we accept Zionism. Egypt did this and they fucked all the Egyptians. Peace with Israel will lead us to destroy ourselves.” I am sure I looked aghast, because what do you really say in response to this? The Hezbollah guys were big on examples. Ali told me a story about how in 1996, Israel attacked his village of Qana and killed not just all the children in his village, but also all of the UN workers there. While I didn’t doubt that Israel had launched an attack in his village, I had trouble believing that Israel had used explosive teddy bears and had deliberately targeted women and children. What I didn’t doubt was that he had heard something like this on Al-Manar Television, which is Hezbollah’s media.

Ali asked me if I knew why Hezbollah has been able to fight against Israel. He wanted to remind me why, in his opinion, the organization would be here to stay. He doesn’t believe it matters how advanced or modern the weapons are. In his Hezbollah world, they have an even more valuable weapon. This weapon, he explained, was not tanks, nuclear weapons, or airplanes. Instead, he argued, their strongest weapon is faith. I saw the others nodding in affirmation as Ali explained that the Hezbollah youth are willing to die just for the sake of killing Israeli soldiers because they know God is on their side. My reaction was not so much shock that they actually believed this, but instead a sense of tragedy that, growing up, they were probably never told anything different. They really did believe that killing Israeli soldiers would put them in God’s good graces.