Hezbollah rearmed, Nasrallah tells rally

BEIRUT -- In the mix of theater and pulpit that makes for a Hezbollah rally, the group's leader, Hassan Nasrallah, appeared yesterday before hundreds of thousands of supporters for the first time since its war with Israel ended last month.

His message was defiant, with the bravado the crowd expected: Hezbollah is stronger than before the war, it has more than 20,000 rockets, and its fighters have replenished their arms.

Only the creation of a strong Lebanese government, Nasrallah added, would lead to its disarmament, as demanded by the United Nations.

Kamal Ribai, a soft-spoken businessman in the crowd with his son and two daughters, thrust his fist into the air. ``At your command, Nasrallah!" he shouted, as six balloons floated carrying Lebanese and Hezbollah flags.

In an anxious and unsettled time in Lebanon, the Shi'ite Muslim group organized its largest show of force since a cease-fire went into effect Aug. 14. The spectacle filled a 37-acre tract, about a mile from the group's war-wrecked headquarters in a Beirut suburb, with flag-waving, boisterous supporters.

For the movement and the rest of the country, the rally signaled Hezbollah's direction after a battle it has proclaimed a ``divine victory." Sounding less strident than some had expected, Nasrallah said he would seek a government that better represented his group and its allies, ridiculed the prime minister, and scoffed at the attempts of ``any army in the world" to seize its weapons.

But the country's future was perhaps better suggested by the scenes that unfolded among people in the crowd, some of whom had trekked two days on foot from southern Lebanon to join what Hezbollah called a festival of victory.

In moments sometimes quiet, sometimes shrill, Lebanon's fault lines were exposed: Here was a country perched between a culture of resistance to Israel and a desire to reach an accommodation with it.

Chants and iconography reflected the cult of personality around Nasrallah and confidence in the power of the long-downtrodden Shi'ite community in a country whose various sects -- Christian, Sunni, and Druze -- often see one's strength as the other's weakness.

``This is all of Lebanon you see around you," Ribai said confidently, waving his hand. ``It's all of Lebanon. Look at it."

``The real majority," he said, referring to Hezbollah and its allies. ``As long as they stay united, nothing will go wrong."

Hezbollah's call for the rally this week unleashed a wave of anxiety and anticipation in Beirut. Some saw Nasrallah's appearance as a way to reinforce the notion of victory to his supporters, who bore the brunt of a 33-day conflict. Others saw it, more darkly, as a first step toward delivering the state to Hezbollah.

Most politicians tried to maintain a facade of unity while the battle raged, but it evaporated within days of the cease-fire.

More pronounced than before the war, a cult of personality has grown up around Nasrallah. T-shirts in the crowd with his picture read, ``Hero of the resistance." Some people wore miniature portraits of him as necklaces. And like many, Ribai talked of Nasrallah with a certain awe. Nasrallah's son, Ribai pointed out, had been killed fighting Israeli troops occupying southern Lebanon in 1997.

``Somebody who sacrificed his own son's life? He did everything he could for this country. He asks you to come celebrate this victory. Why would I think twice about it?" he said.

At the first words uttered by Nasrallah, perhaps the most skilled orator in Arabic today, the crowd erupted. Speakers broadcast his words at each end of the field, awash in a sea of fluttering yellow, interspersed with the flags of allies. Some people flashed V-for-victory signs. Others joined chants. ``O God, O God, protect Nasrallah!"

``No army in the world will be able to make us drop the weapons from our hands!" Nasrallah shouted.