Hezbollah watches on as Iran and Israel battle, for now
Nearly seven months after the November ceasefire between Israel and the armed Lebanese group Hezbollah – an agreement Lebanon says Israel has repeatedly violated – rockets are lighting up the night sky once again. But this time, Hezbollah is not involved. Instead, Israel and Iran are exchanging direct military attacks.
'We don't know how this will all end, so we are undoubtedly tense,' Kandil, now back in Lebanon, told Al Jazeera. However, she added that she had a feeling of satisfaction seeing missiles rain down on Israel. 'Our revenge is being taken,' she said.
While Kandil's sentiment is shared by some in Lebanon, others – those who see Iran's support for Hezbollah, a group that has dominated Lebanon militarily and politically for two decades, as nefarious – cheered on the Israeli attacks against Iran. Many people in Lebanon told Al Jazeera they hoped that stability would prevail and that their country wouldn't be dragged back into a prolonged conflict or subjected to the ferocity and frequency of the Israeli attacks it suffered last year.
'People are taking precautions,' Karim Safieddine, a Lebanese political writer and academic, told Al Jazeera. 'Some are readying their bags.'
Early Friday, Israel struck Iran and assassinated several top commanders in the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) along with top nuclear scientists. Numerous civilians were also killed, including children, according to Iranian state media.
Hours later, Hezbollah released a statement condemning the Israeli attacks and offering condolences for the slain Iranian officers. But analysts say the statement was a clear sign that Hezbollah would not be entering the battle in support of Iran.
'Currently, there is no need for Hezbollah to intervene, as Iranian missiles are capable of confronting the Israeli occupation,' said Qassem Kassir, a Lebanese political analyst supportive of the group. 'However, if the situation escalates into a full-scale war, nothing prevents the situation from changing.'
Hezbollah, founded amid the Lebanese civil war in 1982 with Iranian backing and funding, draws much of its support from Lebanon's Shia Muslim community. The group began firing rockets at Israel on October 8, 2023, after the start of Israel's war on Gaza.
Israeli attacks in Lebanon between October 2023 and November 2024 largely targeted areas where Shia live, killing around 4,000 civilians and fighters, according to Lebanon's Ministry of Public Health.
Many Lebanese are still reeling from the damage left by Israel's attacks. Some remain displaced from their villages in southern Lebanon, which was razed. Hezbollah's priority is to ensure that homes and towns are built in the area.
While Israel is still hitting targets around the country, mostly in southern Lebanon but occasionally in the Beirut suburbs as well, any resumption of military activity by Hezbollah would likely draw an even more intense Israeli response and further disrupt reconstruction efforts.
Much of Hezbollah's military arsenal was reportedly destroyed during the Israeli attacks, though analysts believe they have retained some arms, including ballistic missiles.
Still, Hezbollah's lack of intervention in the current Israel-Iran conflict is 'evidence of their lack of capacity', Safieddine said. Hezbollah may not have the means to intervene militarily.
The Israeli campaign on Lebanon also left Hezbollah's political leadership battered. Many of the group's most senior military figures, including longtime leader Hassan Nasrallah, were assassinated. The group's political hegemony is now being challenged by the Lebanese state, with pressure from the United States and Israel, as it moves to disarm Hezbollah and bring the use of force under the state's exclusive authority.
For now, analysts believe there is a consensus and understanding between Tehran and Hezbollah that the group will not intervene.
'Domestic political circumstances make it extremely difficult for Hezbollah to join in Iranian retaliation,' Nicholas Blanford, a nonresident senior fellow with the US-based think tank Atlantic Council, told Al Jazeera. 'And the Iranians recognise they can't call on them.'
While Hezbollah is sometimes referred to as an Iranian proxy, many experts say the group is more accurately described as a close ally of the IRGC and the Iranian government with shared interests and a similar ideology.
During Israel's heavy bombardment of Lebanon between September and November 2024, Iran's intervention was relatively limited. Israel invaded southern Lebanon, and while Israeli troops have pulled out of most of the Lebanese territory they entered during the war, they still occupy five points.
'There's resentment and unhappiness toward Iran by Hezbollah because they feel Iran let them down in the recent conflict,' Blanford said. Iran reportedly asked Hezbollah not to use some of its more lethal weapons, which analysts linked to fears of an Israeli response on Iranian territory.
As for Israel's attacks on Iran, there's no indication that Tehran has asked Hezbollah to get involved yet, according to Kassir, the analyst thought to be close to Hezbollah. But that might change if a protracted war draws in actors from around the region.
Blanford said he doesn't expect to 'see Hezbollah joining in full scale', but noted that if Israel starts to struggle in its fight against Iran, it could lead to 'some activity along the Blue Line', the line traversing Lebanon's southern border. If that happens, Blanford said, Hezbollah may look to carry out operations in the Israeli-occupied areas of Lebanon.
Israel's plans for Lebanon and Hezbollah remain unclear, but the sound of Israeli drones, an ever-present buzz during the most severe days of the war, has returned to Beirut's skies in the last few days.
'I wouldn't rule out [Hezbollah's intervention] entirely,' said Blanford. 'But for now, it looks like they will stand on the sidelines and keep an eagle eye on what is going on.'
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Al Jazeera
16 minutes ago
- Al Jazeera
Iran's plan to abandon GPS is about much more than technology
For the past few years, governments across the world have paid close attention to conflicts in Ukraine and the Middle East. There, it is said, we see the first glimpses of what warfare of the future will look like, not just in terms of weaponry, but also in terms of new technologies and tactics. Most recently, the United States-Israeli attacks on Iran demonstrated not just new strategies of drone deployment and infiltration but also new vulnerabilities. During the 12-day conflict, Iran and vessels in the waters of the Gulf experienced repeated disruptions of GPS signal. This clearly worried the Iranian authorities who, after the end of the war, began to look for alternatives. 'At times, disruptions are created on this [GPS] system by internal systems, and this very issue has pushed us toward alternative options like BeiDou,' Ehsan Chitsaz, deputy communications minister, told Iranian media in mid-July. He added that the government was developing a plan to switch transportation, agriculture and the internet from GPS to BeiDou. Iran's decision to explore adopting China's navigation satellite system may appear at first glance to be merely a tactical manoeuvre. Yet, its implications are far more profound. This move is yet another indication of a major global realignment. For decades, the West, and the US in particular, have dominated the world's technological infrastructure from computer operating systems and the internet to telecommunications and satellite networks. This has left much of the world dependent on an infrastructure it cannot match or challenge. This dependency can easily become vulnerability. Since 2013, whistleblowers and media investigations have revealed how various Western technologies and schemes have enabled illicit surveillance and data gathering on a global scale – something that has worried governments around the world. Iran's possible shift to BeiDou sends a clear message to other nations grappling with the delicate balance between technological convenience and strategic self-defence: The era of blind, naive dependence on US-controlled infrastructure is rapidly coming to an end. Nations can no longer afford to have their military capabilities and vital digital sovereignty tied to the satellite grid of a superpower they cannot trust. This sentiment is one of the driving forces behind the creation of national or regional satellite navigation systems, from Europe's Galileo to Russia's GLONASS, each vying for a share of the global positioning market and offering a perceived guarantee of sovereign control. GPS was not the only vulnerability Iran encountered during the US-Israeli attacks. The Israeli army was able to assassinate a number of nuclear scientists and senior commanders in the Iranian security and military forces. The fact that Israel was able to obtain their exact locations raised fears that it was able to infiltrate telecommunications and trace people via their phones. On June 17 as the conflict was still raging, the Iranian authorities urged the Iranian people to stop using the messaging app WhatsApp and delete it from their phones, saying it was gathering user information to send to Israel. Whether this appeal was linked to the assassinations of the senior officials is unclear, but Iranian mistrust of the app run by US-based corporation Meta is not without merit. Cybersecurity experts have long been sceptical about the security of the app. Recently, media reports have revealed that the artificial intelligence software Israel uses to target Palestinians in Gaza is reportedly fed data from social media. Furthermore, shortly after the end of the attacks on Iran, the US House of Representatives moved to ban WhatsApp from official devices. For Iran and other countries around the world, the implications are clear: Western platforms can no longer be trusted as mere conduits for communication; they are now seen as tools in a broader digital intelligence war. Tehran has already been developing its own intranet system, the National Information Network, which gives more control over internet use to state authorities. Moving forward, Iran will likely expand this process and possibly try to emulate China's Great Firewall. By seeking to break with Western-dominated infrastructure, Tehran is definitively aligning itself with a growing sphere of influence that fundamentally challenges Western dominance. This partnership transcends simple transactional exchanges as China offers Iran tools essential for genuine digital and strategic independence. The broader context for this is China's colossal Belt and Road Initiative (BRI). While often framed as an infrastructure and trade project, BRI has always been about much more than roads and ports. It is an ambitious blueprint for building an alternative global order. Iran – strategically positioned and a key energy supplier – is becoming an increasingly important partner in this expansive vision. What we are witnessing is the emergence of a new powerful tech bloc – one that inextricably unites digital infrastructure with a shared sense of political defiance. Countries weary of the West's double standards, unilateral sanctions and overwhelming digital hegemony will increasingly find both comfort and significant leverage in Beijing's expanding clout. This accelerating shift heralds the dawn of a new 'tech cold war', a low-temperature confrontation in which nations will increasingly choose their critical infrastructure, from navigation and communications to data flows and financial payment systems, not primarily based on technological superiority or comprehensive global coverage but increasingly on political allegiance and perceived security. As more and more countries follow suit, the Western technological advantage will begin to shrink in real time, resulting in redesigned international power dynamics. The views expressed in this article are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera's editorial stance.
Al Jazeera
a day ago
- Al Jazeera
At least five killed in courthouse attack in Iran's Sistan-Baluchestan
An attack on a courthouse in southeastern Iran's Sistan-Baluchestan province has killed at least five civilians and injured 13, Iranian media report. A mother and child were among those killed on Saturday by gunmen who threw a hand grenade into the building in Zahedan, the capital of Sistan-Baluchestan, a senior police official told the state news agency IRNA. IRNA said three of the attackers were also killed during the assault, citing the regional headquarters of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC). In a statement posted on its Telegram account, Jaish al-Adl (Arabic for Army of Justice), a Baloch armed group based in Pakistan but also active in Iran, claimed responsibility for the attack and urged 'all civilians to immediately evacuate the area of clashes for their safety', Iranian media reported. According to Alireza Daliri, Sistan-Baluchestan's deputy police commander, the attackers tried to enter the building disguised as visitors. The Baloch human rights group HAALVSH, quoting witnesses, said several judiciary staff members and security personnel were killed or wounded when the assailants stormed the judges' chambers. IRNA said emergency personnel were at the scene with the wounded evacuated and transported to medical centres. Sistan-Baluchestan, located on the borders with Pakistan and Afghanistan, is home to Iran's Sunni Muslim Baloch minority, who have long said they are economically marginalised and politically excluded. Some armed groups said they are fighting for greater rights and autonomy. The Iranian government accuses some of them of having ties to foreign governments and being involved in attacks and cross-border smuggling. Fighting between Iranian security forces and the armed groups is frequent in the province, located about 1,200km (745 miles) southeast of the capital, Tehran. The area has been the scene of recurring clashes between Iranian security forces, including the IRGC, and fighters from the Baloch minority and Sunni groups and drug traffickers. In one of the deadliest incidents, 10 police officers were killed in October in what authorities described as a 'terrorist' attack.
Al Jazeera
a day ago
- Al Jazeera
Dahiyeh families displaced by war now trapped by identity
Dahiyeh, Beirut, Lebanon – Fatima Kandeel, 43, and her two sons moved into a new rented apartment in the southern suburbs of Beirut in March. They had been staying with her sister Aida nearby for four months after a ceasefire between Israel and Lebanon had stopped the worst, but not all, of Israel's attacks on Lebanon, and it felt good to have their own place. In their barely furnished living room in Laylake, Dahiyeh, with only two armchairs and a shisha pipe between them, the walls make clear where the family stands. A framed photo of slain Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah hangs beside a martyr's portrait of Fatima's 21-year-old nephew, a Hezbollah fighter killed in an Israeli air strike in Jnoub in October. In the rubble, scraps of home When the war in Gaza began on October 7, 2023, Hezbollah declared its support for Palestine and escalated tensions along the Israel-Lebanon border for about a year until Israel invaded and launched full-scale war. The suburbs of Dahiyeh have been repeatedly targeted in Israeli strikes as it is widely recognised as a Hezbollah stronghold. The family's previous home in Dahiyeh's Hay el-Selom, a 10-minute walk from Laylake, was destroyed by an Israeli air strike in October. Yet Fatima was warm and hopeful in early June, her hazel eyes still smiling from below her hijab while recounting the pain of loss, displacement and hardship. Energetic and confident, she spoke expressively, using her hands as if she were on stage. Like many Lebanese hosts, she offered drinks and an invitation for lunch while chatting about what it was like to feel under attack in Dahiyeh and whether that changed her relationship with her neighbourhood. After her family's home was destroyed and they fled to Aida's, Fatima said, her sons, 24-year-old Hassan and 20-year-old Hussein, managed to salvage two wardrobes and a bed from the rubble along with other scraps from their lives there. Proud of that small victory, Fatima flung open the bedroom doors to show off the two wardrobes restored to the point where it would be hard to guess they had been in a bombing. The rescued bed is used by one of her sons after getting new slats and a new lease on life. 'These are the most important pieces of furniture in the house,' she said, gently running her hand over one of the damaged surfaces. 'They're historical [because they survived]. I was so happy we got them back.' Hassan and Hussein found more in the rubble of their home: a stuffed toy that Hassan used to play with and a few of the books from their mother's library. As she spoke, Fatima held the stuffed toy in her hands, smiling and looking at it. Hussein was quietly observing his mother as she shared her thoughts. 'He used to sleep with it beside him every night,' Fatima recalled. 'I couldn't save much from their childhood after my divorce, but I kept this, and now it survived the war too.' In her bedroom, a small table holds a stack of books about history, religion and culture – a fragment of what she once owned. Scars, visible and invisible From the living room balcony, the scars of war are visible. The top floors of a neighbouring building have been destroyed, the lower floors still standing – a daily reminder of what was lost. Yet Fatima holds Dahiyeh dear and is determined to stay. 'I love the people here,' she said. 'Everyone is kind. … Dahiyeh is home.' Hussein agreed that he feels most at home in Dahiyeh with its strong sense of community and friends and neighbours all around. During the war, he struggled emotionally, constantly stressed and getting into fights. He has seen two therapists but hasn't felt much improvement. Unlike his mother, Hussein is open to the idea of leaving Dahiyeh, but he pointed out practicalities – rents and the overall cost of living outside Dahiyeh are much higher if they could find a place to rent. And, he said, they could face sectarian discrimination if they relocate. The family had to leave Dahiyeh briefly during Israel's war on Lebanon and sought shelter in the nearby coastal Beirut suburb of Jnah. Fatima still carries a painful memory from that time. A Jnah grocery store owner snidely remarked: 'Look at those trashy Shia people,' as he looked at newly arrived families dressed in the slippers and pyjamas they fled in. The comment left a scar, and she refuses to leave Dahiyeh again. 'If war comes again, what do you teach the next generation?' she asked. 'That it's OK to give up your home? Or that you stand your ground?' 'If it were just me, I'd stay' While Fatima has chosen to stay in Dahiyeh, her 55-year-old sister, Iman, wants to leave. Iman lives with her husband, Ali, a plastering foreman, and their four children: Hassan, 25, a programmer; Fatima, 19, a university student; and 16-year-old twins Mariam and Marwa, both in school. All the children still share a single bedroom in their modest but light and joyful home. The living room was full of laughter as Iman sat with Mariam and Hassan, passing around chocolate and juice while cousins chatted in the background. There was teasing as they shared memories of fear, displacement and resilience. Dahiyeh has never been entirely safe. Its history has been shaped by the 1975-1990 Lebanese Civil War and Israeli assaults, including the devastating 2006 war. It's a cycle, Iman said – another war, another wave of fear and displacement. During Israel's most recent war on Lebanon, the family fled multiple times. They first went to Kayfoun village in the Mount Lebanon governorate in late September, but tensions there were high, and a local man spread rumours of imminent Israeli strikes, trying to scare displaced families away. They left Kayfoun after a week and fled to Tripoli in the north, where life was quieter and the presence of nearby relatives offered some comfort, but mistrust lingered. Iman was often judged by her hijab, which marked her as 'resistance-aligned' to people who blamed Hezbollah for Israel's attacks on Lebanon. 'We all became introverts,' Hassan recalled. 'We stayed home most of the time, but we had relatives nearby and met some good friends. We'd sit together, play cards. It helped.' In early October, they followed friends to Iraq's capital, Baghdad, where they were welcomed warmly – more warmly, they said, than in parts of Lebanon. After the ceasefire, they returned. 'There's no place better than our country,' Iman insisted, but Dahiyeh does not feel safe to her any more despite her deep ties to the neighbourhood, so she is searching for a new home – anywhere that's safer. 'If it were just me, I'd stay,' she said. 'But I have kids. I have to protect them.' 'They don't rent to Shia families' Iman's son Hassan recalls the first time Israel bombed near their apartment – on April 1 in breach of the November ceasefire. 'I just wanted out,' he said. 'I don't care where we go. Just somewhere that isn't a target.' But finding a new place to rent is far from simple. They considered moving to Hazmieh. It is close to Dahiyeh but not part of it, making it relatively safer. And it would be closer to Iman's sister Mariam, who lives there. But Iman said: 'In Hazmieh, most of them don't rent to Shia families, or they would double the price.' Despite the mounting fear, the family does not want to leave Lebanon, and Hassan has turned down a job offer abroad. They're exhausted, they said, but not ready to abandon their country. Even in the midst of war, Hassan said, his parents did not want to leave Dahiyeh. He had to work on convincing them to go first to Kayfoun, then eventually Iraq. It was the same after the ceasefire with long discussions about whether to leave, and it was his mother's fear for her children that made her eventually agree. But more than a month after they spoke to Al Jazeera in early June, they're still searching for a place that will take them and that they can afford.
