With the supporters of Hezbollah demonstrating in the streets of downtown Beirut, I am reminded of my own encounter with Hezbollah. It happened during a visit to Lebanon in 1999, at a place called Baalbek, site of the some of the grandest Roman temples of all antiquity. Far from what you might expect, the scene was idyllic. On a moonlit summer's eve, my wife and I joined the cream of Beirut society for a performance by a visiting troupe of Spanish dancers. On a broad stage set beneath the temple ruins, dancers surged to the rhythm of Flamenco guitar. The air was crisp, the sky timeless, the crowd impeccably dressed. During breaks in the performance, people mingled over cups of Arabic coffee scented with cardamom, conversing in Arabic, French, and English. As the sun disappeared behind the mountains to the west, the confluence of people, culture, fashion, and history was nothing short of sublime.
Above the dancers, however, armed soldiers patrolled the temple walls. This is because Baalbek is also home base for Hezbollah, or Party of God, the militant Shiite Muslim party long notorious for hostage-taking, embassy-bombing, and radical anti-western politics. In recent years they have toned down their act, and now hold 13 seats in the Lebanese Parliament. But they still maintain a formidable militia, which explains the lines of Syrian tanks we drove past on our way in.
So what the heck was I doing there? Visiting my in-laws.