Tuesday, June 14, 2005
Nasrallah's game is starting to get old, but that shouldn't stop him from playing it for a long, long time.
Hizbullah leader Hassan Nasrallah says seven villages inside Israel belong to Lebanon; expert says rhetoric comes in framework of terror group's efforts to avoid disarmament.
You see, Israel already fully withdrew from the Lebanese security zone, a move certified by its biggest fan: the U.N.
But that wasn't enough. Nasrallah wanted the Shebaa Farms (territory actually disputed with Syria, not Lebanon). He has launched attacks, and kidnapped soldiers, and allegedly built up an arsenal of rockets aimed at Israel. All to liberate these disputed farms.
But in the end, this hasn't been a big enough flame to fan. So now, he wants seven villages inside Israel. Of course he will lead weapon-laden parades through the hamlets of southern Lebanon. For there can be no disarming of Hizbullah while these seven villages rest with Israel. Hey, with Barak making his comeback, he may even get them, all seven.
But that won't be enough. Because Israel will still be holding an industrial park outside the seventh village, and Nasrallah will not disarm until every last piece of Lebanon is freed from Israel's seedy grip. He will uplink video of his various missiles and rockets,the cadres of suicide bombers and militia, all prepared to die attacking Israel, for the love of this Lebanese industrial park. And of course after a few year's whining and griping, I'm sure Israel will find a leader with the courage to withdraw from it.
But that won't be enough. For despite Israel's withdrawal from the industrial park as a whole, Nasrallah, his beard now starting to gray, will still insist on regaining a last abandoned and decaying warehouse on the outskirts of the industrial area. Anti-aircraft guns will fire, raining debris down on northern Israel. Unmanned drones will buzz over the border, searching out weakspots for Hizbullah infiltrators to terrorize in the struggle to liberate the warehouse. And after much internal strife within Israel over the painful concession, the warehouse will eventually be turned over.
But that won't be enough. For across the road from the warehouse sits a small park, where the workers used to relax during breaktime, so many years ago. Can Nasrallah leave this park, this Lebanese national heritage, under Israel's control? Can he expect to disarm, to give all his missiles back to his Syrian and Iranian puppet masters, even while Israelis arrogantly stroll under the shade of the park's few trees? Of course not. However many U.N. resolutions and negotiations it takes, Nasrallah will eventually get it.
But that won't be enough. For on the edge of that park sits a bench. On that bench is an ancient, moldy, half-eaten cheese sandwich that was left there by a security guard before the industrial park was abandoned. Nasrallah, now an arthritic, gray-haired old grouch, knows that Lebanon cannot truly regain its standing in the region until the remnants of this cheese sandwich are repatriated. He will howl, and he will seeth, demanding the Lebanese cheese sandwich's return.
But enough is enough, and Nasrallah will finally be told no. A line will finally be drawn at the cheese sandwich. And Nasrallah will finally face the test he dreads, for he is a man who desparately wants nothing more than to keep his rockets and the power and prestige they accrue for him. And he knows full well that to use them is to lose them.