Jim Hake and I met for the first time one of the key student leaders, Nabil Abou-Charaf, for coffee in Nejmeh Square across the street from Lebanon's parliament. He showed up at our pre-arranged meeting place, a table at an outdoor cafe under the shade of a ficus tree, wearing a suit, a blue independence ribbon, and a prominently displayed red and white scarf - an open and public declaration that he belongs to Lebanon's democratic opposition.

"We have a few key demands," he said. "First, all Syrian soldiers and intelligence agents must leave Lebanon now and forever. We need an international inquiry into the assasination of Rafik Hariri. And we demand free and fair elections - on time, without delay - in May."

Lebanon's opposition made headlines all over the world when one million demonstrators (in a country of only 3.5 million) publicly made those demands in downtown Beirut's Martyr's Square. Now, to keep that momentum moving, a tent-city - known as Freedom Camp inside Lebanon - has been constructed on the site where opposition leaders insist they will live until all their demands are met. Freedom Camp's permanent population: 700. It doubles in size on the weekends.

"The movement is totally led by young people," Nabil said. "Both Christians and Muslims. We are living together in the same tents. We stay up all night strategizing and getting to know each other. It's amazing, but it's also sad. We Christians and Muslims never really knew each other until now. Hariri's assasination broke down that wall. We are talking together - really talking and getting to know each other - for the first time.

"It is so important," he said, "that we heal the old wounds. We cannot go back to the past, to the civil war. We want to rebuild our country." He tapped the side of his head. "And that includes rebuilding our minds. Lebanon has been so divided. We stand not only for freedom and independence, but also national unity and a new, modern, common, tolerant Lebanese identity."

Nabil is 24 years old, but he belongs to the old cadre of activists.

"When I got started," he said, "there were only 200 of us. We held demonstrations and were arrested, beaten, and tortured. But we kept going anyway. Now we number one million. The Syrians, their Lebanese puppets, and Hezbollah can't stop us now. We are too strong and too many."

I asked him: How comprehensive is the surveillance by the secret police?

"Every waiter," he said, "every taxi driver, every shopkeeper, and every person who works in hotels is a potential informer." Just then our waiter came to our table and asked if we wanted to order more coffee. "We assume we are being watched constantly," Nabil continued, "because we are." Apparently he no longer cares, not if he'll say that in front of the waiter.

"We are not free, but we are no longer afraid to express ourselves," he said. "The climate of fear still exists, but it is breaking. Next time you visit Lebanon, it will be a free country."