Legions of flag-waving protesters danced, blew horns and beat drums in a demonstration that, as in past days, was festive, swathed in a cool breeze on a sunny day. But its leaders stipulated only a few days before more measures were taken to topple the government of Prime Minister Fouad Siniora. By nightfall, the city, suffused with a military presence, was rife with rumors over the next step. Hezbollah refused to confirm or deny that it planned to cut roads in the capital in a mounting campaign of civil disobedience, and Michel Aoun, a Christian ally, suggested a more forceful march on the government itself.

"All these actions become legitimate when the rulers start committing crime after crime, and refuse to step down, and find refuge in illegitimate actions," he told the crowd. "Legitimate actions are for rulers who respect the legitimacy of its people."

The crisis, Lebanon's worst since the end of the 15-year civil war in 1990, has relentlessly deepened since it erupted in October with the demand by Hezbollah and its allies for a greater say in Siniora's cabinet. Since then, it has escalated into deeply personal attacks between Siniora and Hezbollah's leader, Hasan Nasrallah. Both communities have mobilized their supporters, sometimes along bluntly sectarian lines, sending a chill through a capital that still bears the civil war's scars. Both communities rule out a retreat in a confrontation that could decide the country's political culture, foreign policy and priorities for years to come.

In the broadest terms, the conflict pits Hezbollah, Aoun and an allied Shiite movement, Amal, against the government and a coalition that coalesced in protests last year after former prime minister Rafiq al-Hariri was assassinated. But within the struggle is an array of some of the most deeply felt issues here: whether the government's ally, the United States, or Hezbollah's allies, Iran and Syria, will have greater influence; the power of the Shiite community that Hezbollah largely represents; frustration over corruption that Hezbollah and Aoun have framed as populist demands; and Lebanon's posture toward Israel.

"This is a coup against the state in the name of God," Samir Jisr, a parliament member and ally of Hariri's son, Saad, who inherited leadership of Lebanon's Sunni community, told tens of thousands at a counter-protest in northern Lebanon.

Two of Lebanon's most powerful television stations played to their crowds. Future Television, loyal to Hariri and his Sunni constituency, devoted extensive coverage to the counter-protests in Tripoli. Hezbollah's al-Manar, calling the protests here "an unprecedented popular flood," aired four scenes simultaneously of the crowds surging downtown. The broadcast was laced with the vocabulary of this summer's war with Israel: victory, steadfastness and salvation.

"People who survived 33 days of war in the south have no problem staying here for a year, or even two," said Nada Mroueh, joining protesters flying flags that denoted their affiliation -- yellow for Hezbollah, orange for Aoun, green for Amal. "Is it wrong to ask for our rights? Is Siniora more Lebanese than us? We are Lebanese, too."

The demonstrators filled a swath of downtown and backed up into the main arteries leading into the city. Hezbollah has sought to cast the protest as representative of what it calls the national opposition, and the crowd unfurled a sea of red, white and green Lebanese flags across downtown. Overlooking the main square, two banners were draped over a building. One showed Siniora embracing Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice.

"Thanks, Condy!" it read in English.

"Hold a news conference tonight or tomorrow, no rush, and announce your resignation as a gesture to preserve the unity of the Lebanese people and rejection of foreign tutelage," said Naim Kassem, the deputy leader of Hezbollah, addressing Siniora, as protesters in a tightly packed square strained their heads to get a glimpse of the turbaned leader.

At another point, he urged the crowd to repeat after him: "Death to America! Death to Israel!"

In the streets outside the square, some of the chants that followed were angry. "There is no fear! There is no fear! The blood of Shiites is a Kalashnikov."

But more often they were fitting for a carnival, the tone that the protests -- disciplined, organized and peaceful -- have hewn to since they began Dec. 1 with a similar but smaller crowd, followed by a round-the-clock sit-in in scores of tents. As Kassem led the crowd in chants, others down the road danced the traditional debke, and knots of youths beat drums. Women in tight jeans chatted, sometimes shouting over martial music blared from speakers, as Shiite clerics in robes passed by.

"Beirut is free!" some chanted.

"I want to send a small message," said Mohammed Ali Ghandour, a 17-year-old who has attended the protests five of the past 10 days. "The government doesn't respect us. They're not taking care of us. They say they do, but they don't."

Ghandour held a poster that read, "As with victory, change is coming, coming, coming."

"What's happening, it's us or them. And whoever wins receives the country. All of it," he said. "This is Lebanon."

Through the crisis, followers in the two camps have split into views that almost never intersect. The speeches of leaders like Nasrallah are echoed almost immediately in the streets. Siniora's contention that the protests amount to a coup d'etat is mentioned in almost every conversation with Hezbollah's opponents. After Nasrallah accused the government of complicity in Israel's waging war this summer, protester after protester mentioned it in interviews Sunday. The government, many claimed, was at best under the sway of U.S. Ambassador Jeffrey Feltman, at worst staffed by traitors.

"In the trash can of history, the government of Feltman," one sign read.

"The government walks as the Americans tell it to walk. It does what Feltman asks it to do," said Hussein Awadeh, a 17-year-old from the largely Shiite southern suburbs of Beirut. "Is it possible we'd accept a government like that?"

Aoun, who entered into an alliance with Hezbollah last year, said the demonstration Sunday would mark the last mass protest. Like Hezbollah, he was unclear about what might follow. Both he and Nasrallah have said they might demand a transitional government that would pave the way for early elections, but constitutionally, Hezbollah and its allies don't have the numbers in parliament to do so. Some here have read the call as a veiled threat of a coup, but so far, the military has strived to stay neutral.

"In the next few days, we expect to change the status quo," Aoun said.

Government officials, at least publicly, have struck a confident tone. So far, they say they have yet to lose anything in the confrontation, and Siniora has repeatedly ruled out resigning, while, like Nasrallah, leaving the door open for negotiations.

"No one ever had any doubt about Hezbollah's capacity to bring huge crowds to the street," said Wael Abou Faour, a parliament member and supporter of Siniora. But, he added, "they have reached a dead horizon."

He said Siniora planned to offer a compromise this week, though it would not diverge far from previous positions. Most talks have revolved around Hezbollah and its allies receiving just short of a third of the cabinet, with independents holding one or two posts. Hezbollah and its allies have pushed for just over a third, a number that would allow them to force the cabinet's resignation.

Source: The Washington Post