When the martyrs are not enough: Hezbollah’s internal crisis

The anniversary of the September 2024 Israeli strike on the command of the Ridwan brigade in Beirut’s southern suburbs, which killed dozens of Hezbollah commanders and civilians, was meant to be a moment of solemn commemoration for a party that lives on martyrdom. For the party’s secretary-general Naim Qassem, it was also an opportunity to rally his movement, reassert the logic of “resistance,” and project defiance in the face of mounting challenges. Yet for all its length and fervor, Qassem’s speech betrayed something else: Hezbollah is no longer only fighting its external enemies. It is now grappling with an internal crisis that is becoming harder to conceal.

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Qassem began with a litany of martyrs, recounting in detail the lives of fallen commanders such as Abdel Qader Ibrahim Aqil and Ahmad Mahmoud Wahbi. This ritual is not new in Hezbollah’s rhetoric, but its intensity stood out. For over half an hour, the speech turned into a eulogy of leaders, operatives, and civilians – a cascade of names and sacrifices meant to remind the audience that the movement remains drenched in blood and sanctified by loss. The repetition, however, revealed more than it concealed. Behind the solemnity lurked the reality that Hezbollah has suffered sustained attrition at the leadership level. Replacing such cadres is not as simple as the rhetoric of “martyrdom” suggests. The need to glorify them at length reflects not only reverence but also anxiety: the party is dangerously bleeding, and its supporters know it.

But the most telling section of Qassem’s address was not about Israel or America. It was about Hezbollah’s own base. At one point, he asserted that “the people do not need mobilization; rather, we, the leadership, take mobilization from our public.” Such phrasing may have been designed to flatter, but in reality, it betrays unease. Hezbollah has always prided itself on its capacity to mobilize its followers through the charisma of its leadership and the moral appeal of its cause. To insist that the leadership now “feeds off” the people’s mobilization is an inversion of the usual equation – and a subtle admission that the leadership is straining to keep pace with a weary and skeptical constituency.

Indeed, the pressure within Hezbollah’s environment is real. After two decades of intermittent conflict, a brutal Syrian war that drained men and resources, and the devastating Israeli war of September 2024, the Shia community of Lebanon is bearing an unsustainable burden. Economic collapse, social dislocation, and a steady stream of funerals have eroded the aura of invincibility. Qassem’s insistence that the community is more committed than ever is less a statement of fact than a plea against fatigue.

The speech also contained a startling political overture. Qassem explicitly called on Saudi Arabia to “open a new page” with Hezbollah, on the basis of recognizing Israel as the common enemy. For decades, Hezbollah has cast Riyadh as a pillar of American imperialism and a patron of its Lebanese foes. For a senior figure to invite dialogue so openly suggests not confidence but constraint. Hezbollah is isolated, regionally and domestically. It needs to break that isolation, or at least appear willing to, if it is to preserve its maneuvering space.

Qassem’s appeal to Riyadh was not a gesture of magnanimity but an act of desperation, and its very phrasing exposes its hollowness. For decades Hezbollah has spared no opportunity to demonize Saudi Arabia as the wellspring of American hegemony and sectarian poison, the financier of jihadist groups, and the patron of Lebanese factions branded as traitors. To suddenly call for a “new page” – while insisting in the same breath that Hezbollah’s weapons are exclusively aimed at Israel – is less a strategy than a plea for reprieve. It is also disingenuous. Hezbollah’s arsenal has never been confined to Israel; it has been deployed in Syria to prop up a dictatorship, turned inward in Beirut on May 7, 2008, and used to intimidate every domestic opponent. To suggest otherwise insults the intelligence of both Saudi Arabia and the Lebanese public.

The overture therefore reveals not confidence but constraint: a movement battered by attrition, cornered diplomatically, and fearful of losing even its own base. If Hezbollah were truly strong, it would not be petitioning the very Kingdom it has long vilified. The fact that it does so now, openly and unconvincingly, is the clearest sign that the “resistance” is running out of room.

The same logic applied to his appeal to Lebanese factions. He urged all parties, even those closest to enmity with Hezbollah, not to “serve Israel, knowingly or unknowingly.” Again, the rhetoric masks insecurity. Hezbollah has lost much of the consensus that once allowed it to present itself as a national shield. Today, its arms are a subject of bitter division, its interventions in Syria and beyond have alienated large swathes of the population, and its claim to act solely against Israel is less persuasive than ever. To accuse opponents of serving Israel is a way to silence criticism, but it also underscores how fragile Hezbollah’s domestic standing has become.

Qassem devoted long passages to justifying the necessity of Hezbollah’s arms by citing historical massacres and ongoing wars in Gaza. Here, too, the insistence was telling. When a political actor repeats its case endlessly, it is usually because it feels that case is slipping. For Hezbollah, the doctrine of “resistance” has been the central pillar of legitimacy. But as the Lebanese state collapses and the costs of endless confrontation mount, even within its own constituency doubts have surfaced. Qassem’s relentless return to the theme reveals a defensive posture.

The larger narrative of the speech was grandiose: Israel, backed by America, is pursuing “Greater Israel,” bent on erasing Palestine and subjugating the entire region. This framing is familiar, but what was new was the attempt to reframe the “Qatar strike” as a turning point that should change the strategic calculations of Arab states and movements alike. Here again, the effort was as much inward-facing as outward: Hezbollah needs its own base to believe that every setback is part of a larger trajectory of ultimate victory. Without such belief, the entire edifice of “resistance” risks collapse.

Yet, stripped of its rhetorical flourishes, the speech is less a declaration of strength than a confession of strain. Hezbollah is battered militarily, squeezed economically, isolated diplomatically, and increasingly questioned socially. Qassem’s call for dialogue with Riyadh, his appeals to domestic rivals, his insistence on the indispensability of arms – all these points to a party that senses its position is more precarious than at any time since 2006.

Hezbollah remains formidable. Its arsenal is intact, its networks entrenched, or so it claims, and its capacity to disrupt Lebanon and the region still unmatched. But the structural cracks are visible. When a leader spends more time reassuring his own base than threatening his enemies, it is a sign that the real battle is no longer only with Israel, but within.

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