Will there be a Sunni Hezbollah?

There has been growing talk of Syria’s fledgling army entering Lebanon. Some even argue that intervention has become necessary: to secure the border, bring the proliferation of weapons under control — perhaps even disarm militias altogether — and restore order to a frontier long plagued by instability.

Behind some of this talk may lie another motive: settling accounts with Hezbollah for what it did in Syria. And perhaps “entering” Lebanon is a better description than “intervening”.

The online newspaper Al-Modon even reported the extraordinary claim that Kuwait and Bahrain were interested in enlisting the Syrian army to help repel a potential Iranian attack. Syrian President Ahmed al-Sharaa, however, denied this. Any Syrian role, he said, would go no further than assistance — though he did not specify what sort. Would it be merely “advisory”, as Iran used to claim of its support for Bashar al-Assad’s regime? Or would it involve actual armies and weapons?

Lebanon has long served as a playground for Arab and international powers. Indeed, we have now endured roughly a century of Arab intervention in other Arab countries, as though we had returned to the pre-Islamic age, when one tribe would raid another.

The modern Arab world offers no shortage of examples. In 1948, the armies of Egypt, Jordan, Syria, Iraq and Lebanon entered Palestine following the declaration of the state of Israel. In 1958, Iraq attempted to exert pressure on Kuwait, with Iraqi leader Abdul Karim Qasim massing troops near the border before Britain intervened to protect Kuwait. Between 1963 and 1970, Arab states intervened in Yemen after its revolution: Egypt backed the republicans, while Saudi Arabia supported the royalists. In 1970 came Black September, the confrontation between Jordan and the Palestine Liberation Organisation, accompanied by Arab attempts at mediation. From 1976 until 2005, Syria intervened in Lebanon during the Lebanese civil war, with Syrian forces remaining in the country for almost three decades.

Then, in 1990, Iraq invaded Kuwait — perhaps the starkest modern example of one Arab state occupying another — triggering the Gulf War and an international coalition to liberate Kuwait. Arab states subsequently joined that coalition against Iraq in 1991. In 2011, Arab states became involved in Libya during the war that ended Muammar Gaddafi’s rule. And in 2015, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates led a military coalition into Yemen against the Houthis and their allies.

These “invasions”, whatever their differing motives and slogans, have often reflected a mixture of external pressures and domestic interests. Sometimes they have represented attempts to impose unity by illegitimate means; sometimes unity by force. At other times they have sprung from fear of an ambitious neighbour — or simple covetousness towards a wealthy one.

Iran, however, has been more cunning than its Arab neighbours. It managed to intervene in four Arab countries without sending conventional invading armies across their borders. Tehran devised something more sophisticated than the Trojan horse: it cultivated local armed groups composed of citizens of the countries concerned, binding them to Iran through sectarian ideology and political allegiance.

There is Hezbollah in Lebanon, Ansar Allah — the Houthis — in Yemen, and the Popular Mobilisation Forces in Iraq. At other times, Iran has deployed non-Iranian Afghan formations. The fighters may not have been Iranian, but the leadership was. These forces could be directed from afar — and, when necessary, directly. 

Which raises a provocative question: why should Arab states not adopt Iran’s own model? Why not cultivate loyal Sunni parties and movements along similar lines?

Iran itself contains Arab communities, as well as Sunnis who face restrictions on the public expression of their faith. They could be supported financially, politically or through the media. Arab states could champion their cause and take an interest in their welfare, just as great powers have long claimed to protect religious and ethnic minorities when doing so serves their own interests — sometimes elevating the concerns of minorities above those of the majority.

And why not cultivate support in Lebanon’s Tripoli — the Tripoli of the Levant — which was tied to Syria until relatively recent history? Many of its inhabitants already admire Syria’s new leader, Ahmed al-Sharaa. His portraits have appeared in streets and squares; he is praised in gatherings and on social media. Some Lebanese supporters seem almost prouder of his leadership than Syrians themselves.

There are, of course, reasons why such a strategy is unlikely to be adopted. They have little to do with ignorance or a lack of means.

The real obstacle is fear of political Islam. Any such movement would inevitably mobilise people in the name of Islam and religious solidarity rather than Arab nationalism. Pan-Arabism no longer excites the masses as it once did. Too many of its champions have been exposed, and too many of its icons have fallen.

Arab governments fear an Islamist political and missionary force at home more than they fear Iran or even the United States.

One need only recall Afghanistan during the Soviet occupation. Money was collected, religious fatwas issued, and Arabs were summoned from near and far to wage jihad against the Russians. At the time, much of the Arab and international media portrayed them as freedom fighters. Later, the very powers that had supported them turned against them. They became known instead as the “Arab Afghans”.

America can be appeased with money, territory or influence. Iran can be bargained with. But an Islamist political movement, once empowered and popularised, is far harder to restrain.