Sayyid of the Resistance

A Life of Knowledge, Struggle, and Selfless Devotion

A year has passed, yet the wound remains open. The voice of a man who shaped destinies has fallen silent, but his spirit continues to roar in every heart that beats for dignity, truth, and resistance.

Sayyid Hassan — the son of the soil, the student of Najaf, the banner-bearer of truth — was born in 1960 in the eastern quarters of Beirut. From the very beginning, his life was marked by hardship and hope. In 1975, he joined the rising movement led by Imam Musa Sadr to defend the oppressed and expel the occupiers. With time, he became a young leader in his village — determined, principled, and unafraid.

His journey took him to the sacred seminary of Najaf, where he studied under scholars who would later be martyred for their truth — Sayyid Mohammad Baqir Sadr and Sayyid Abbas Mousavi. It was there that he was formed not only as a thinker, but as a man ready to give everything for the sake of God.

By 1978, as the Islamic Revolution began to blossom in Iran, Sayyid Hassan returned to Lebanon. He helped establish religious education centers and was entrusted by Imam Khomeini — at just 21 years of age — with the responsibility of collecting and distributing Islamic dues. This trust was given not to a politician, but to a servant.

Over time, he and his companions made a difficult decision — to part ways from the organisation they once belonged to, after disagreements over direction and the disappearance of Imam Musa Sadr. What followed was a quiet, determined building of a new path — one rooted in sacrifice and sincerity.

He led in silence. He organised in shadows. He raised a generation with purpose. In time, he became the central leader of the resistance movement — guiding his people through wars, sieges, and betrayals with wisdom and unwavering faith.

When his mentor Sayyid Abbas Mousavi was assassinated in 1991, Sayyid Hassan — then only 32 — was chosen by his peers to carry the banner forward. And carry it he did. Under his leadership, the movement grew in strength and vision, building institutions, defending land, educating souls, and restoring dignity to a broken nation.

He was a scholar of the battlefield, and a warrior in the classroom. In moments of loss, his tears spoke more than any sermon. In moments of victory, his humility reminded us that true leaders serve, not rule.

And now, one year after his departure, we say:

O Sayyid, your absence still breaks us.

We feel as though our hearts are being pulled from our chests.

The earth is quieter without you. The skies, heavier.

But your mission lives — in our prayers, in our oaths, in our breath.

We remember what you taught us to say to our martyrs:

“We don’t say goodbye. We say we’ll meet again — on that day when blood triumphs over the sword.”

You are not lost to us. You are near — in every prayer for justice, in every footstep toward truth.

We make a covenant with you today, as we did a year ago:

We do not pass on your blood.

We carry it.

We protect it.

We build with it.

And we imagine you smiling now — from the heavens, from the realm of the righteous — at your people who have not abandoned your path, and never will.

For your heart, Sayyid. For your legacy. For the heroes you loved.

We raise your prayer as our own:

“O Lord, this martyrdom is a great blessing You bestow upon Your special servants… and we are deprived of it.”

But if we cannot taste martyrdom, then let us be its servants. Let us live and die carrying your mission.

You live on, Sayyid.

And until we meet again — we remain your loyal ones.

Reference: Ali Reza Panahian