There is little to suggest that “the Party,” meaning Hezbollah, remains an active political force among the people, were it not for the threatening appearances of its Secretary-General and the statements issued by some of its officials. At the leadership level, it no longer speaks to its supporters or its own constituency. Instead, it addresses others, or rather, threatens them. Anyone who asks questions, anyone who criticizes, anyone who seeks answers, and most recently, anyone mourning a lifetime’s work or a piece of land lost, while questioning the value of the devastation imposed on the South and its people, the Bekaa and its residents, the Shiite community, and the Lebanese as a whole.
This is what Secretary-General Naim Qassem and some party officials do. There are no real tasks or agendas at hand; the mission is singular and unmistakable: that we remain silent. All of us. That we ask no questions and accept having everything taken from us. That we never ask about the cost, as though the party alone bears it, and as though it pays that cost as an investment in the afterlife, as it claims.
This is the direct approach, the exercise of hard power. The Secretary-General does not bother to construct a narrative or engage in the kind of argumentation for which his predecessor was known. He does not address the facts, examine the issues, or respond to evidence. Instead, he threatens anyone who asks questions, anyone who doubts, and anyone who complains about losing a home, a piece of land, or loved ones.
Countless phrases, stripped of their context, are hurled at anyone who suffers a loss, anyone who dares to express frustration. Among the most commonly repeated lately is: “Are You satisfied, Lord? Take more until You are.”
But how do we tell the party that some people may understand better what pleases God? Haj Hussein Faqih, known as Abu Ali, an 87-year-old man who insisted on spending his final days sleeping atop the rubble of his destroyed home in Srifa, knew that God could not be pleased with what is happening. For who would accept seeing a people impoverished, their children crushed by hardship, their livelihoods stripped away, while they are blindfolded and silenced? And for what purpose? Or rather, for whose sake? No, He would not be pleased.
This brings us to the more “sophisticated” and widespread role now being played by a new form of soft power: content creators, particularly a number of female content creators.
Hezbollah now has its own influencers, both men and women, selling all kinds of illusions: empty victories, battlefield updates, strategic tactics, military analysis, human rights talk, international politics, and even a romanticized image of the South and its people. They promote messages about patience and inner strength through slogans taken out of context in ways that many find irritating, disconnected from reality, and downright offensive.
This is where a group of female influencers comes into the picture. They move from one topic to another, and sometimes from one country to the next, with remarkable ease. Some live outside Lebanon, while others are based in the country but remain far from the conflict zones and the hardships people are experiencing, following events mainly through their screens.
They trust in the resistance and are confident that victory is coming. They share battlefield updates, explain drone technology, and insist that Israel is falling apart. They present themselves as politically aware activists who cannot be fooled by the enemy’s narrative. Yet they do not seem shaken by images of Israeli soldiers at Beaufort Castle, the airstrikes on Tyre, or predictions that Nabatieh, the capital of Jabal Amel, could fall.
These are details they rarely engage with. Even more brazen are those who choose to address them only to dismiss them. How? Through instinct, speculation, and endless talk.
Victory, they say, is inevitable. It may come in days, weeks, or years. And why not? Why should patience have limits when they are living comfortably in their homes, surrounded by their children, while using social media platforms to produce content that sells narratives without having to bear any of the cost themselves?
These influencers show little outward sign of religiosity, yet they have no hesitation in invoking religion when it suits their message. They casually repeat the well-known phrase, “Are You satisfied, Lord? Take more until You are.” What exactly God has taken from them in order to be satisfied, we do not know. But that is beside the point. What matters is that they have turned their Instagram and TikTok accounts into platforms dedicated to supporting the resistance and “the cause.”
They tell us that battles are not decided in the first round, that victory belongs to those who master the long game, that staying calm in the middle of a storm is tough training for survival, and that those who do not fear death live forever. These “words of wisdom” earn them tens of thousands of likes.
It is a resistance-themed version of the life coach. Larnaca has not fallen, Paris is still the fashion capital of the world, and yoga classes continue to boost morale.
These words of advice may be useful for those who do not fear death. But what about those who do? What about those who die, not as a metaphor, but in reality? Those whose lives have been cut short, not figuratively but literally?
Is there any advice for those who are dying? For those who are being killed? For those who were never asked whether they feared death, or whether they wanted immortality? For those who do not dream of living forever, but are content with the limited days of their simple lives?
People who were happy to live one day at a time, planting their land and living off its harvest, sleeping under their own roofs with dignity and a sense of security. People who cannot stroll along the beaches of Cyprus or Greece while creating emotional content about longing for home. People who start missing home the moment they leave their village, and who feel the pain of exile at the very first roundabout on the road out.
What about those who do not have the financial means, either personally or within their families, to rise above material losses and perform acts of defiance in front of their destroyed homes, repeating the phrase, “Are You satisfied, Lord? Take more until You are”? Those who spent a lifetime building, protecting, and working for what they had…
What about them?
Are there any words of advice for them? Any content made for them? Any algorithms trying to reach them? Any economy that includes them? Or are they simply outside the scope of what is known as the attention economy?
They are not the people who generate clicks, engagement, or viral content. Yet they are the ones paying the highest price.
Because counting losses is not attractive. Neither is asking for a modest, dignified life. Neither is admitting defeat and accepting it. Neither are ordinary lives, modest ambitions, or satisfaction with a traditional way of making a living. Nor is it rejecting displacement and life in tents. None of these things make for engaging content.
How do you turn loss into a slogan? How do you tell people that the cause matters more than a lifetime spent living with dignity in a modest home in the villages of the former security zone, and beyond? How do you tell them they should be willing to give up even more when they have already given so much?
That is a hard sell, even if the one asking were God Himself. So what happens when the ones asking are people who pay no price at all, trading in these narratives for free, buying and selling them at no cost to themselves?
So, we are faced with content creators who claim to champion the cause and promote a version of patience that leaves no room for complaint or dissent. These creators are never penalized by the platforms they use. Their accounts are rarely, if ever, restricted because they do not produce content that seriously challenges Israel or presents a narrative that might unsettle it.
They rarely dwell on the massacres, destruction, or cultural devastation caused by Israel. That kind of content does not boost morale. Instead, they sell narratives that conveniently align with what Israel would like to hear, narratives that can be used to justify even more violence and destruction. For example, they promote the idea that a drone strike that wounds, or even kills, an Israeli soldier somehow balances out the destruction and renewed occupation of entire villages.
This is the equation these content creators promote: a form of content that is irresponsible and far from innocent, to say the least.
