The Elegy of the Resistance:

 

Marwan Harb offers a sharp critique of Hezbollah’s estrangement from Lebanese national identity, portraying it as a militarized organization that derives its legitimacy not from democratic participation but from its arsenal. Harb traces the evolution of Hezbollah’s weaponry — once venerated as a sacred tool of liberation — through three distinct phases: initially serving as a sectarian shield during vulnerable times, then an instrument of internal political domination, and ultimately a hollow burden, clinging to relevance without justification. This trajectory illustrates the symbolic decay of the ‘weapon,’ transforming it from a shield of defense to a mechanism of control.

 

Hezbollah, Harb argues, assumes the dual role of "victim-perpetrator" by exploiting historical grievances to justify its dominance. Rather than embracing a shared national narrative, it insists on a separate story steeped in blood, martyrdom, and exclusion. This monopolization of grief prevents collective healing and obstructs the formation of a unified memory. Drawing from Foucault and Nietzsche, Harb underscores how suffering is weaponized, becoming a rhetorical shield to evade accountability and perpetuate violence under the guise of moral superiority.  In other words, these philosophers unmask how groups use suffering rhetorically to claim moral superiority. Trauma and grievance, thus manipulated, become instruments of authoritarian control.

 

In his essay “Undermining the Most Honorable People,” published in Al Modon,* Harb focuses on Hezbollah’s deepening alienation from Lebanon’s political community following its human and military losses during the 2024-2025 war with Israel. He situates this critique within the party’s long-standing ethos of martyrdom and dispossession that dates back to 1982. This narrative of heroic suffering, Harb contends, has become a convenient defense against political compromise. Yet today, a majority of the Lebanese population rejects this “heroic suffering” and calls for Hezbollah’s disarmament and the end of Lebanon’s dual military structure, the official Lebanese army and Hezbollah’s militia.

 

At the heart of Hezbollah’s strategy is what Harb calls “weaponized victimhood” — the deployment of a victim identity to garner sympathy, deflect criticism, and claim moral superiority. This posture is most apparent in Hezbollah’s refusal to relinquish its arms to the Lebanese government. A meaningful policy shift in this regard could deprive Israel of its justification for continued hostilities, while also realigning Hezbollah with national rather than parochial and foreign interests. However, the party clings to past traumas and continues to invoke martyrdom as a rationale for its exceptionalism.

 

With the end of the Israeli occupation, Hezbollah transitioned from a symbol of resistance to an agent of domination. It now uses tools common to some liberation movements — such as exploiting historical wounds and monopolizing national grief — but to sustain power rather than secure justice. Harb revisits the insights of Foucault and Nietzsche. Foucault reveals how discourses of suffering generate truth and legitimacy, allowing groups like Hezbollah to frame criticism against them as betrayal. Nietzsche, on the other hand, sees suffering as a moral weapon that enables the powerless to reverse values and assert dominance. Together, these perspectives illustrate how invoking pain and past injustice insulates power from scrutiny and transforms violence into virtue.

 

This dynamic is closely tied to the idea of “resistance exceptionalism,” in which Hezbollah presents itself as a sacred entity above the law, immune to criticism. Its military might is thus reframed as moral authority, silencing dissent and dominating public discourse. Harb sees in this a dangerous pattern: the collapse of ethical resistance into authoritarian control.

 

Beyond its relationship with the state, Hezbollah’s trajectory has fractured its bond with its constituents. Once a source of empowerment, the party has now become a source of alienation, especially for many Shiites. Harb terms the end of “Shiite exceptionalism” as leaving the community adrift, caught between a legacy of triumph and a present marked by confusion, isolation, and resentment toward a national identity they feel increasingly excluded from.

 

Harb criticizes the Lebanese government's narrow framing of Hezbollah’s weapons as a purely security issue. He argues that disarmament must be part of a broader political project rooted in national unity, equality, and the rejection of any group’s claim to superiority. Hezbollah’s continued assertion of exceptionalism fosters division, frustration, and disillusionment.

 

He also explores the group’s refusal to acknowledge defeat in the recent war and its resistance to integration into the Lebanese state. This was made starkly clear on August 5, when Hezbollah dismissed the government’s disarmament decision as “non-existent.” Harb believes the moment has come for Hezbollah to move from militancy to politics. The logic of “I exist because I am armed” no longer holds. It only deepens Hezbollah’s detachment from Lebanon’s political community, marking it as a force within Lebanon but not of it. History shows that success in state-building depends on whether liberation movements, such as Hezbollah, demobilize and integrate their fighters into a national army and whether it reframes its identity from resistance to governance. Hezbollah’s legitimacy has been eroding as resistance rhetoric no longer aligns with national aspirations.

 

According to Harb, Hezbollah’s posture reflects “a dangerous victimhood — unwilling to bury its dead or admit its era has ended.” He vividly describes the group as “a sinking ship, drifting in the storm with tattered sails and a broken rudder, driven by stubbornness that smacks more of arrogance than salvation.”

 

Fundamentally, Harb argues, Hezbollah rejects Lebanon’s national story. The party treats the country’s past as betrayal, refusing to acknowledge shared heroes or collective memory. Instead, it crafts an exclusive narrative filled with bloodshed and exclusion. It seeks to control the national anthem rather than harmonize with it.

 

Hezbollah’s current stance reflects an inability — or refusal — to adapt to changing realities. Harb draws again on Nietzsche, who saw in resentment not mere revenge but a philosophy that clings to injury and converts weakness into tyranny. Hezbollah’s refusal to relinquish symbolic victories of the past suggests an unwillingness to acknowledge that weapons, once disconnected from collective purpose, cease to be shields and become shackles, no longer symbols of hope but sources of renewed conflict.

 

For Lebanon’s Shiite community, this marks a profound transformation. The pride of armed struggle — manifested in the wars of 1978, 2000, and 2006 — has given way to isolation and siege. The community is now trapped in a narrative that no longer represents its aspirations, but instead deepens its sense of loneliness and contradiction. As they grow increasingly alienated from other groups, Shiites find themselves not met with solidarity but with resentment from the broader Lebanese population.

 

Hezbollah’s claim to being “the noblest” or “exceptional” presents a significant obstacle to national cohesion. Such a claim is inherently exclusionary and incompatible with a vision of equality. It fosters frustration, breeds anger, and pushes fellow Lebanese away from their rightful place in the shared national story.