The "hiding among civilians" myth
Israel claims it's justified in bombing civilians because Hezbollah
mingles with them. In fact, the militant group doesn't trust its
civilians and stays as far away from them as possible.
By Mitch Prothero
07/28/06 "Salon" -- --
The bombs came just as night fell, around 7
p.m. The locals knew that the 10-story apartment building had been
the office, and possibly the residence, of Sheik Tawouk, the
Hezbollah commander for the south, so they had moved their families
out at the start of the war. The landlord had refused to rent to
Hezbollah when they requested the top floors of the building. No
matter, the locals said, the Hezb guys just moved in anyway in the
name of the "resistance."
Everyone knew that the building would be hit eventually. Its
location in downtown Tyre, which had yet to be hit by Israeli
airstrikes, was not going to protect it forever. And "everyone"
apparently included Sheik Tawouk, because he wasn't anywhere near it
when it was finally hit.
Two guided bombs struck it in a huge flash bang of fire and concrete
dust followed by the roar of 10 stories pancaking on top of each
other, local residents said. Jihad Husseini, 46, runs the driving
school a block away and was sitting in his office when the bombs
struck. He said his life was saved because he had drawn the heavy
cloth curtains shut on the windows facing the street, preventing him
from being hit by a wave of shattered glass. But even so, a chunk of
smoldering steel flew through the air, broke through the window and
the curtain, and shot past his head and through the wall before
coming to rest in his neighbor's home.
But Jihad still refuses to leave.
"Everything is broken, but I can make it better," he says,
surrounded by his sons Raed, 20, and Mohammed, 12. "I will not
leave. This place is not military, it is not Hezbollah; it was an
Throughout this now 16-day-old war, Israeli planes high above
civilian areas make decisions on what to bomb. They send huge bombs
capable of killing things for hundreds of meters around their
targets, and then blame the inevitable civilian deaths -- the
Lebanese government says 600 civilians have been killed so far -- on
"terrorists" who callously use the civilian infrastructure for
But this claim is almost always false. My own reporting and that of
other journalists reveals that in fact Hezbollah fighters -- as
opposed to the much more numerous Hezbollah political members, and
the vastly more numerous Hezbollah sympathizers -- avoid civilians.
Much smarter and better trained than the PLO and Hamas fighters,
they know that if they mingle with civilians, they will sooner or
later be betrayed by collaborators -- as so many Palestinian
militants have been.
For their part, the Israelis seem to think that if they keep
pounding civilians, they'll get some fighters, too. The almost
nightly airstrikes on the southern suburbs of Beirut could be seen
as making some sense, as the Israelis appear convinced there are
command and control bunkers underneath the continually smoldering
rubble. There were some civilian casualties the first few nights in
places like Haret Hreik, but people quickly left the area to the
Hezbollah fighters with their radios and motorbikes.
But other attacks seem gratuitous, fishing expeditions, or simply
intended to punish anything and anyone even vaguely connected to
Hezbollah. Lighthouses, grain elevators, milk factories, bridges in
the north used by refugees, apartment buildings partially occupied
by members of Hezbollah's political wing -- all have been reduced to
In the south, where Shiites dominate, just about everyone supports
Hezbollah. Does mere support for Hezbollah, or even participation in
Hezbollah activities, mean your house and family are fair game? Do
you need to fire rockets from your front yard? Or is it enough to be
a political activist?
The Israelis are consistent: They bomb everyone and everything
remotely associated with Hezbollah, including noncombatants. In
effect, that means punishing Lebanon. The nation is 40 percent
Shiite, and of that 40 percent, tens of thousands are employed by
Hezbollah's social services, political operations, schools, and
other nonmilitary functions. The "terrorist" organization Hezbollah
is Lebanon's second-biggest employer.
People throw the phrase "ghost town" around a lot, but Nabatiya, a
bombed-out town about 15 miles from the Lebanon-Israel border,
deserves it. One expects the spirits of the town's dead, or its
refugees, to silently glide out onto its abandoned streets from the
ruined buildings that make up much of the town.
Not all of the buildings show bomb damage, but those that don't have
metal shutters blown out as if by a terrible wind. And there are no
people at all, except for the occasional Hezbollah scout on a
motorbike armed only with a two-way radio, keeping an eye on things
as Israeli jets and unmanned drones circle overhead.
Overlooking the outskirts of this town, which has a peacetime
population of 100,000 or so -- mostly Shiite supporters of Hezbollah
and its more secular rival Amal -- is the Ragheh Hareb Hospital, a
facility that makes quite clear what side the residents of Nabatiya
are on in this conflict.
The hospital's carefully sculpted and trimmed front lawn contains
the giant Red Crescent that denotes the Muslim version of the Red
Cross. As we approach it, an Israeli missile streaks by, smashing
into a school on the opposite hilltop. As we crouch and then run for
the shelter of the hospital awning, that giant crescent reassures me
until I look at the flagpole. The Lebanese flag and its cedar tree
is there -- right next to the flag of the Islamic Republic of Iran.
It's safe to say that Ragheh Hareb Hospital has an association with
Hezbollah. And the staff sports the trimmed beards and polite, if
somewhat ominous, manner of the group. After young men demand press
IDs and do some quick questioning, they allow us to enter.
Dr. Ahmed Tahir recognizes me from a funeral in the nearby village
of Dweir. An Israeli bomb dropped on their house killed a Hezbollah
cleric and 11 members of his immediate family, mostly children.
People in Lebanon are calling it a war crime. Tahir looks exhausted,
and our talk is even more tense than the last time.
"Maybe it would be best if the Israelis bombed your car on the road
here," he said, with a sharp edge. "If you were killed, maybe the
public outcry would be so bad in America that the Jews would be
forced to stop these attacks."
When I volunteered that the Bush administration cared little for
journalists, let alone ones who reported from Hezbollah territory,
he shrugged. "Maybe if it was an American bomb used by the Israelis
that killed an American journalist, they would stop this horror," he
The handful of people in the town include some from Hezbollah's
political wing, as well as volunteers keeping an eye on things while
the residents are gone. Off to the side, as we watch the Israelis
pummel ridgelines on the outskirts of town, one of the political
operatives explains that the fighters never come near the town,
reinforcing what other Hezbollah people have told me over the years.
Although Israel targets apartments and offices because they are
considered "Hezbollah" installations, the group has a clear policy
of keeping its fighters away from civilians as much as possible.
This is not for humanitarian reasons -- they did, after all, take
over an apartment building against the protests of the landlord,
knowing full well it would be bombed -- but for military ones.
"You can be a member of Hezbollah your entire life and never see a
military wing fighter with a weapon," a Lebanese military
intelligence official, now retired, once told me. "They do not come
out with their masks off and never operate around people if they can
avoid it. They're completely afraid of collaborators. They know this
is what breaks the Palestinians -- no discipline and too much
Perhaps once a year, Hezbollah will hold a military parade in the
south, in which its weapons and fighters appear. Media access to
these parades is tightly limited and controlled. Unlike the fighters
in the half dozen other countries where I have covered insurgencies,
Hezbollah fighters do not like to show off for the cameras. In Iraq,
with some risk taking, you can meet with and even watch the
resistance guys in action. (At least you could during my last time
there.) In Afghanistan, you can lunch with Taliban fighters if
you're willing to walk a day or so in the mountains. In Gaza and the
West Bank, the Fatah or Hamas fighter is almost ubiquitous with his
mask, gun and sloganeering to convince the Western journalist of the
justice of his cause.
The Hezbollah guys, on the other hand, know that letting their
fighters near outsiders of any kind -- journalists or Lebanese, even
Hezbollah supporters -- is stupid. In three trips over the last week
to the south, where I came near enough to the fighting to hear
Israeli artillery, and not just airstrikes, I saw exactly no
fighters. Guys with radios with the look of Hezbollah always found
me. But no fighters on corners, no invitations to watch them shoot
rockets at the Zionist enemy, nothing that can be used to track
Even before the war, on many of my trips to the south, the Lebanese
army, or the ubiquitous guy on a motorbike with a radio, would halt
my trip and send me over to Tyre to get permission from a Hezbollah
official before I could proceed, usually with strict limits on where
I could go.
Every other journalist I know who has covered Hezbollah has had the
same experience. A fellow journalist, a Lebanese who has covered
them for two decades, knows only one military guy who will admit it,
and he never talks or grants interviews. All he will say is, "I'll
be gone for a few months for training. I'll call when I'm back."
Presumably his friends and neighbors may suspect something, but no
one says anything.
Hezbollah's political members say they have little or no access to
the workings of the fighters. This seems to be largely true: While
they obviously hear and know more than the outside world, the
firewall is strong.
Israel, however, has chosen to treat the political members of
Hezbollah as if they were fighters. And by targeting the civilian
wing of the group, which supplies much of the humanitarian aid and
social protection for the poorest people in the south, they are
Earlier in the week, I stood next to a giant crater that had smashed
through the highway between Tyre and Sidon -- the only route of
escape for most of the people in the far south. Overhead, Israeli
fighters and drones circled above the city and its outlying areas
and regular blasts of bombs and naval artillery could be heard.
The crater served as a nice place to check up on the refugees, who
were forced by the crater to slow down long enough to be asked
questions. They barely stopped, their faces wrenched in near panic.
The main wave of refugees out of the south had come the previous two
days, so these were the hard-luck cases, the people who had been
really close to the fighting and who needed two days just to get to
Tyre, or who had had to make the tough decision whether to flee or
stay put, with neither choice looking good.
The roads in the south are full of the cars of people who chose
wrong -- burned-out chassis, broken glass, some cars driven straight
into posts or ditches. Other seem to have broken down or run out of
gas on the long dirt detours around the blown-out highway and bridge
network the Israeli air force had spent days methodically destroying
even as it warned people to flee.
One man, slowing his car around the crater, almost screams, "There
is nothing left. This country is not for us." His brief pause
immediately draws horns and impatient yells from the people in the
cars behind him. They pass the crater but within two minutes a large
explosion behind us, north, in the direction of Sidon, rocks us.
As we drive south toward Tyre, we soon pass a new series of scars on
the highway: shrapnel, hubcaps and broken glass. A car that had been
maybe five minutes ahead of us was hit by an Israeli shell. Three of
its passengers were wounded, and it was heading north to the
Hammound hospital at Sidon. We turned around because of the attack
and followed the car to Sidon. Those unhurt staked out the parking
lot of the hospital, looking for the Western journalists they were
convinced had called in the strike. Luckily my Iraqi fixer smelled
trouble and we got out of there. Probably nothing would have
happened -- mostly they were just freaked-out country people who
didn't like the coincidence of an Israeli attack and a car full of
journalists driving past.
So the analysts talking on cable news about Hezbollah "hiding within
the civilian population" clearly have spent little time if any in
the south Lebanon war zone and don't know what they're talking
about. Hezbollah doesn't trust the civilian population and has
worked very hard to evacuate as much of it as possible from the
battlefield. And this is why they fight so well -- with no one to
spy on them, they have lots of chances to take the Israel Defense
Forces by surprise, as they have by continuing to fire rockets and
punish every Israeli ground incursion.
And the civilians? They see themselves as targeted regardless of
their affiliation. They are enraged at Israel and at the United
States, the only two countries on earth not calling for an immediate
cease-fire. Lebanese of all persuasions think the United States and
Israel believe that Lebanese lives are cheaper than Israeli ones.
And many are now saying that they want to fight.
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