BEIRUT — On a Friday evening in September, a squadron of Israeli warplanes streaked through the skies of Lebanon and dropped some 85 tons in daisy-chained, bunker-buster bombs on several buildings in the Dahieh, the Hezbollah-dominated suburbs south of the capital Beirut.
The missiles stabbed deep into the ground, obliterating two city blocks along with their target: Hezbollah’s subterranean headquarters, where Hassan Nasrallah, the group’s leader and a longtime nemesis for Israel, was meeting with his lieutenants. He was declared dead soon thereafter.
On Sunday, almost five months later, tens of thousands converged near that spot in Dahieh for their fallen leader’s burial, participating in an elaborate show of defiance meant to demonstrate that the Iran-backed group, though bruised in its war with Israel, was by no means a spent force.
Sunday morning saw Beirut’s streets flooded with Lebanese troops and policemen trying to manage traffic snarled by masses of mourners making their way to the capital’s stadium for the start of an hours-long commemoration ceremony.
They walked into the stadium past two-story high banners depicting a smiling Nasrallah alongside his cousin and designated successor, Hashem Safieddine, who was killed in a separate Israeli airstrike. Many carried Lebanese or Hezbollah’s yellow-on-green flags; others raised posters of some of their relatives who had been killed in the war. Well before noon, the stadium — which at a capacity of more than 50,000 is Lebanon’s largest — was full.
One of those in attendance was Khawlah Ahmad Tlais, a 36-year-old who lost 12 family members in the war.
“It’s 13 with the Sayed,” referring to Nasrallah with an honorific. He’s part of my family too,” she said, holding up a poster with pictures of her deceased relatives, with Nasrallah occupying the top spot.
Among those she lost was her brother, a Hezbollah commander she said was returning home on the eve of the cease-fire that came into place in November. An Israeli strike targeted his house, killing him, along with Tlais’ parents, nephews and other relatives. Tlais’ home was also destroyed.
“I feel pride that I sacrificed, that I gave for this path,” she said, her voice somber but firm.
“Those who don’t understand why we are happy to do this don’t understand our cause. We’re telling our Sayed, you taught us to live in dignity, but you didn’t teach us how to live without you.”
The war with Israel started last October, when Hezbollah began a rocket campaign on north Israel in support of its ally, the Palestinian group Hamas after its Oct. 7 attack on southern Israel. Months of tit-for-tat strikes followed, displacing tens of thousands of people on both sides of the Lebanon-Israel border.
Hostilities escalated in September when Israel launched punishing airstrikes and then an invasion of southern Lebanon. By the time the cease-fire was forged, the death toll in Lebanon was almost 4,000, with more than four times that figure injured, according to Lebanese authorities, which said most were civilian casualties.
Israel army troops have since withdrawn from most of south Lebanon save for five hilltop positions near the border; its air force continues to pound what it says are Hezbollah targets. During the funeral, the Israeli military conducted airstrikes on south Lebanon and the Bekaa valley in the country’s east.
Hezbollah is thought to have lost thousands of its cadres, including the upper echelons of its military leadership, and a significant portion of its arsenal in the fight. Many in Lebanon see the group as having suffered a mortal blow, but its leaders insist the very fact of its survival proves otherwise.
“The resistance remains, and is strong, and is continuing,” said Naim Al-Qassem, the group’s new leader, in a televised speech.
It was a message that resonated with the group’s supporters.
“Just look around you, at everyone gathered here — our presence here is victory,” said Batool Hamdoon, 37, who was in the stadium with her two sons, 13-year-old Hassan and Mohammad, 11. Both children wore military fatigues adorned with Hezbollah’s insignia. On her lapel was a pin with the face of Ali Dhawi, her stepson, a Hezbollah operative killed in an Israeli attack during the war.
Despite all she had lost, Hamdoon was unwavering in her support for Hezbollah; she intended for both Hassan and Mohammad to be inducted into the group’s fighting ranks.
“That’s why I put them in uniform today. So people know they are on the right path,” she said.
With Nasrallah’s burial, Hezbollah lays to rest a figure who left an indelible mark on the faction he helped evolve over more than 30 years of his stewardship. Preparations for what was planned to be a massive event began weeks earlier, with Hezbollah cadres racing to build a mausoleum for Nasrallah’s internment, and an organization committee coordinating 70 international delegations, along with thousands of activists and social media influencers expected to take part.
One of the larger delegations was from Hezbollah’s main patron, Iran, which dispatched its foreign minister, Abbass Aragchi, and parliamentary speaker Mohammad Bagher Qalibaf.
“Today’s funeral will make the world see that the resistance is alive, that Hezbollah is alive, that this people is loyal to its values, and that the path of the resistance will continue,” Aragchi said. He referred to the so-called Axis of Resistance, the Iran-led network of paramilitary factions — from Lebanon, Iraq, Yemen, Afghanistan, Pakistan and Gaza — arrayed against the U.S and Israel.
“Sayed Hassan was above the first rank. He was a spike in the eye of Israel and the U.S.,” said Adel, a 34-year-old Iraqi with a paramilitary faction — one of thousands of Iraqis who had flown from Baghdad for the ceremony. He gave his first name only to avoid harassment.
“He was a figure not just for Lebanon, but all the world. When we heard of his martyrdom, all of us were affected.”
As the afternoon wore on, a platform bearing the coffins of Nasrallah and Safieddine made its way through the crowd, with many throwing scarves, pieces of cloth and mementos at attendants, who touched them to the coffins before tossing them back.
At one point, a quartet of Israeli warplanes roared above the stadium before arcing toward the sea — a “clear message,” according to a statement on X from Israel’s defense minister Israel Katz, that “whoever threatens to destroy Israel and attacks Israel — that will be the end of him.
“You will specialize in funerals — and we will specialize in victories,” he wrote.
Despite Hezbollah’s rhetoric, the funeral comes at a delicate time for the group, which before the war had cultivated an air of invincibility as Lebanon’s most powerful political faction and a fighting force considered superior to the Lebanese army.
Battered by the war, Hezbollah’s opponents in Lebanon now spy an opportunity to break what they say is the group’s stranglehold over the state. In recent weeks, anti-Hezbollah parties worked together to choose a president and prime minister espousing policies to defang the group and strip it of its arsenal.
“Lebanon is tired of the wars of others on its land,” said Lebanese President Joseph Aoun in a meeting with parliamentary speaker Qalibaf on Sunday, according to a Lebanese state news. He emphasized non-interference in other countries’ affairs.
Hezbollah’s Al-Qassem said those banking on the group’s supposed weakness were mistaken. Though it was waiting for the Lebanese government to bring about a full Israeli withdrawal by diplomatic means, Hezbollah would still fight when the need arose.
“The resistance is still present and strong in numbers and weapons,” he said.
“The inevitable victory is coming.”
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