identifier stringlengths 1 43 | dataset stringclasses 3 values | question stringclasses 4 values | rank int64 0 99 | url stringlengths 14 1.88k | read_more_link stringclasses 1 value | language stringclasses 1 value | title stringlengths 0 200 | top_image stringlengths 0 125k | meta_img stringlengths 0 125k | images listlengths 0 18.2k | movies listlengths 0 484 | keywords listlengths 0 0 | meta_keywords listlengths 1 48.5k | tags null | authors listlengths 0 10 | publish_date stringlengths 19 32 ⌀ | summary stringclasses 1 value | meta_description stringlengths 0 258k | meta_lang stringclasses 68 values | meta_favicon stringlengths 0 20.2k | meta_site_name stringlengths 0 641 | canonical_link stringlengths 9 1.88k ⌀ | text stringlengths 0 100k |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 23 | https://www.ifimes.org/en/researches/syria-between-oppression-and-freedom/3325 | en | Syria: Between oppression and freedom | [
"https://www.ifimes.org/img/ifi.jpg",
"https://www.ifimes.org/img/ifi.jpg"
] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | The International Institute for Middle-East and Balkan Studies (IFIMES) in Ljubljana, Slovenia, regularly analyses events in the Middle East and the Balkans. IFIMES has analysed current events in Syria with an emphasis on the beginning of mass protests against the ruling regime. The most relevant and interesting sections from the analysis entitled “SYRIA: BETWEEN OPPRESSION AND FREEDOM” are published below. | https://www.ifimes.org/en/researches/syria-between-oppression-and-freedom/3325 | SYRIA:
BETWEEN OPPRESSION AND FREEDOM
Syria, which is 185,180 km² large and has 17,585,540 inhabitants (according to data collected in 2002), is the sixth Middle Eastern country to experience a beginning of an uprising against the second biggest tyrant in the Middle East (after the Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein), namely Bashar Al-Assad. The uprising began accidentally on 18th March 2011 in a city named Daraa in the south of Syria, very close to Jordanian border, when the secret police arrested some children between the ages of 13 and 14, who were singing songs from the Egyptian uprising. The parents of the arrested children came to the police station and demanded their children be set free and consequently the demonstrations spread across the whole city. The safety authorities started shooting the demonstrators after they had burned down the seat of the ruling party and destroyed the monument of Hafez Al-Assad, both being the obnoxious symbols of a totalitarian regime. It happened exactly the same way as in Iraq eight years ago, when the Americans took over Baghdad on that same day and destroyed the monument of Saddam Hussein in the city centre a few weeks later.
The demonstrations spread from Daraa to Damascus, the capital. Unlike in other Arab uprisings, the activists from Facebook and Twitter haven't managed to gather enough protesters on the streets of Syrian cities. The demonstrations continue in limited numbers, with security forces constantly intervening and settling issues with the demonstrators in an aggressive and bloody manner.
The crucial question, which is constantly arising these days is: why didn't the young activists and the opposition manage to gather a larger number of Syrian citizens to take part in these protests?
In our opinion there are three factors, which could provide us with a partial answer. These factors are: oppression and fear, utilitarian and self-interest and the international context.
OPPRESSION AND FEAR
Oppression and fear with repression are methods of governance of the authoritarian tyrannical regimes in the Arab world, while the Syrian regime is one of the most authoritarian in the world. This regime is a blend of the well-known regimes in North Korea and Iran. The ruling party called Baath is, similarly as in North Korea, implanted in every segment of the society. The Shia Alawite minority, from which stems the Al-Assad dynasty has occupied the most important positions in the party and in the country for 40 years, the country where the extraordinary circumstances have been going on since 1963.
The security services are "the backbone" of the regime, while the partisan militia, the police and the army perform executive tasks. According to some data the percentage of the employees in the Syrian security services is one among the highest in the world, namely one member of the security services per 158 citizens. This number doesn't include various party colleagues, who have to regularly monitor and spy after their colleagues and neighbours on the behest of their superiors, regardless of their employment (health, universities, industry, etc.). They have to record all events in their weekly reports, which have to be regularly submitted to their superiors.
In the eighties, the regime confronted its opponents with tanks and rockets. The attack on Hama, the centre of Sunni Muslim fraternities, in 1982 is well known. 38.000 inhabitants of Hama lost their lives in this attack (Robert Fisk - The Independent). In the attack on the desert prison Tadmur (Palmyra) in 1980, 2000 prisoners were killed, whereas the same number of people lost their lives during the attack on the largest city in Syria, Aleppo. In the book called Human Rights Watch (HRW), entitled "Syria exposed", this period is called the period of great oppression, because in the world of modern contemporary communications, no such massacres can be hidden.
The regime was contented with the policy of sticks and carrots. The police arrested all the symbols and leaders of the political movements and non-governmental organizations, they shut down the internet forums, prohibited the activists to travel abroad and used other methods of harassment and intimidation.
UTILITARIAN AND SELF-INTEREST FACTOR
The utilitarian and self-interest factor is the second biggest obstacle besides oppression and fear. There are three groups of self-interest individuals. The first group are the powerful and influential people in the party and in the army, who linked their destiny to the destiny of Al-Assad dynasty. The second group is the economic mafia, which is connected with the relatives of the president and also with the first group. They control the larger state-owned and private companies in the fields of telecommunications, trade and energy. The third group comprises members of some other minorities, such as the Christian community, which is being constantly intimidated by the Islamic extremists coming to power in the case of the fall of the regime.
THE INTERNATIONAL CONTEXT
The international context is the third most important factor, which is keeping the regime afloat. The question is how the regime became such an important regional factor that the American and other Western diplomats so frequently visit Damascus to seek advice there? The Americans and the West are very well aware of the fact that the regime supports and gives shelter to the extreme organizations such as Hamas and Hezbollah, also being an ally of Iran, which is constantly defying the international community, that it is accused of destabilization of Lebanon, since 2003 it has opened its "hermetic" borders with Iraq and thus facilitated the transfer of the terrorists and extremists to Iraq, so they can perform deadly suicidal attacks on coalition forces and Iraqi civilians, while its border with Israel on the occupied Golan heights one of the most peaceful in the world. Strangely enough, Syria is the only country bordering Israel, which has been at war with Israel since 1948. Syria has been developing a nuclear programme, which was bombed and destroyed by Israel, and there are several other contradictory actions that are in opposition with the international law.
The answer to the question about the important role of Syria in the region is that the regime evaded and misled the international community. In the time of the war against terrorism in 2001 the regime played a dual role and provided intelligence data about terrorist groups and individuals in the Middle East. The USA was very grateful to the Syrian authorities until the arrival of the Americans in Iraq in 2003, when the fear arose that Damascus was the next stop of the American policy of introducing democracy with force in the Middle East, after Baghdad. The regime has played a central role in exporting the terrorists to Iraq.
The policy of Syria towards Lebanon, which was under Syrian domination for several years was disastrous. Syria was an important actor in the Lebanese civil war in 1975-1990. An example of bold meddling into Lebanese inner affairs was, for example, the insistence of president Bashar Al-Assad on mandate extension of the Lebanese President Emil Lahud in 2004, despite the fact that all Lebanese parties were against it.
The highlight of interference in internal affairs was the Syrian role in the assassination of Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri on 14th February 2005, which led to the Syrian intelligence service being accused by the international investigators. This was followed by resolution no. UN 1559, which requires Syria to withdraw its troops situated in Lebanon since 1975. It's only then that Syria first experienced the isolation by the U.S., which recalled its ambassador from Syria. This was repeated by other Western and Arab countries.
Syrian isolation did not last long. In early 2007, the region developed new facts that were in favour of Syria: the failure of the Israeli attack on Lebanese Hezbollah in 2006, Iraq before the civil war between Shiites and Sunnis in 2007, and the direct failure of American efforts to introduce democracy to Iraq and the failure Israeli campaign against Hamas in Gaza in 2009.
The Syrian regime has become a regional winner in early 2010. Turkey has played an important role in the return of Syria to the international arena. The latter has accepted Turkey's role as a mediator to continue the indirect Syrian-Israeli peace negotiations. The USA have appointed a new ambassador in Damascus.
Now, when the bloody confrontation of the regime with its own people is taking place, there is no interest in the West to help the Syrian people. Israel's security is crucial for Western tolerance towards the Syrian regime - after the fall of Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak the Israeli - Egyptian border has become questionable once again, as well as the Egypt peace treaty with Israel. In Jordan, Islamist held demonstrations that are threatening the stable Kingdom are taking place. Jordan ratified a peace treaty with Israel in 1994. Hamas is constantly rocketing Israel. The only peaceful border with Israel is Syria, that's why the West does not want to interfere in "internal" Syrian affairs. Time is sensitive, possibly because of the failure of western operations in Libya (Odysseus dawn), which is an additional reason to keep Western powers at hand in terms of Syria.
OPPOSITION PARTIES IN SYRIA
Syria's political map contains several political parties. A part of the opposition operates within the regime's National Progressive Front (NPF), while the other opposition parties suffer from a number of regime's restrictions and repression. Some operate from abroad.
Among the most important opposition political parties in Syria include:
1. Communist Party, formed in 1924. Its leader, 80-year-old Riyadh Al-Turk, who spent more time in prison than in liberty. He is called by some the Nelson Mandela of Syria.
2. The Muslim Brotherhoods Movement was founded in 1942 and stems from the Muslim Brotherhood of Egypt, which was founded in 1928. Until 1962 it participated in several governments. Former President Hafez Al-Assad has banned its operation in 1980. After the Israeli action in Gaza in 2009, the movement cancelled their opposition to the regime and has since then been in a passive opposition.
3. The Front of the National Solution was founded in Brussels in 2006 in the presence of former Vice President Abdul Halima Khaddama, who resigned in 2005 and emigrated to Paris. Also the leaders of the Muslim Brotherhoods Movement and some other leftist and liberal groups were present at the Brussels meeting.
4. The Justice and Construction Movement was founded in 2006 in London. Analysts share the opinion that the movement is the only one acceptable for all Syrian ethnic and religious groups. The movement demands a peaceful transfer of power, preparation for democratic elections and the return of all exiles, as well as the amnesty of political prisoners.
5. ISLAH - this reform party was founded in the U.S. after 11 September 2001. Its leader is controversial Farid Ghadry, who has dual Syrian - American citizenship. The party has close contacts with American neoconservatives and the Jewish Lobby. It demands the overthrow of the regime by the U.S. following the Iraqi model.
6. The Arab Socialist Movement was founded in 1954. Today it is divided into two parts. Part of it is under the leadership of Abdel Ghani Ayyasha, who cooperates with the government.
7. The Arab Socialist Union
8. The Revolutionary Workers' Party
9. The Communist Workers' Party
10. The party of Modernization and Democracy is a liberal party of Syrian Kurds, which was founded in 1996,
11. Kurdish Democratic Party was founded in 1970.
Regime National Progressive front (FNP) was established on 7 March 1972 by the ruling Baath Party and other six satellite parties. Their role is to confirm the regime policy. In the constituting article of the FNP it is clear that the Baath Party leads the country and the society.
The parties constituting the FNP are:
1. The Arab Socialist Baath Party founded on 7 April 1947;
2. Dissident fraction of the Communist Party of Syria;
3. Arab Socialist Union (Nasserists) founded in 1964;
4. Arab Socialist Movement founded in 1961;
5. Arab Socialist Party;
6. The Democratic Unionist Socialist Party;
7. Arab Democratic Union Party.
International Institute IFIMES believes that the international community should react in case of Syria by putting pressure on the regime to start reforming from within. The UN can play an important role in establishing dialogue between the regime and the opposition.
The international community should avoid errors in the future. It has probably learned something from the cases of Iraq, Tunisia and Libya, where there was a collapse of the regime and consequently problems with filling the political vacuum. All the countries of the Middle East need an adequate transitional period for the preparations for the transfer of power to democratically elected representatives. Syrians and other nations in the Middle East lack experience at abolishing one-party regimes, crisis managing and disposing of residues of the dark past. | |||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 76 | https://geneva.intercontinental.com/history-and-awards/ | en | InterContinental Genève | [
"https://geneva.intercontinental.com/history-and-awards/assets/images/InterContinental-Geneva-60-ans-logo.png",
"https://geneva.intercontinental.com/history-and-awards/assets/images/InterContinental-Geneva-Hotel-history-1964.jpg",
"https://geneva.intercontinental.com/history-and-awards/assets/images/1964/InterC... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | en | null | In search of privacy and serenity, the couple Carlo Ponti and Sophia Loren arrived at InterContinental Genève. Newly pregnant, the world-famous Italian actress stays in one of the hotel’s suites for seven months before giving birth to her son in Geneva.
Leader Mikhail Gorbachev for end to the arms race. The meeting boded well for the future, as the two men engaged in long, personal talks and seemed to develop a sincere and close relationship. Two years later, the treaty on eliminating intermediate-range nuclear missiles was signed.
US President Bill Clinton stays at InterContinental Genève and is the first US president to deliver an address to the International Labour Conference.
Clinton visits the hotel numerous times during his presidency, including for peace talks with Syrian President Hafez al-Assad.
Korean artist Jae-Hyo Lee has created several unique branches and wooden sculptures that stand above the lobby, reception and restaurant fireplaces. The same artist also designed the table next to the entrance of the Woods restaurant.
Tony Chi, a designer based in New York, honed his expertise in hotel renovation and restoration through an impressive overhaul of all public spaces within the InterContinental Genève.
His objective was to imbue the establishment with a blend of modern and classic aesthetics, harmonizing with the natural beauty and sophisticated international ambiance of the city situated on the banks of the Rhône. | |||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 18 | https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-13216195 | en | Bashar al-Assad's inner circle | [
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/304/mcs/media/images/52374000/jpg/_52374163_011841025-1.jpg",
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/304/mcs/media/images/53746000/jpg/_53746271_012236084-1.jpg",
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/304/mcs/media/images/52374000/jpg/_52374165_011604771-1.jpg",
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"BBC News",
"www.facebook.com"
] | 2011-04-27T16:52:11+00:00 | Syrian President Bashar al-Assad is surrounded by military and intelligence figures, most of whom are either related to him or are members of his minority Alawite community. | en | BBC News | https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-13216195 | Before his promotion to general, Maher commanded a Republican Guard brigade. This provided him with valuable military experience and allowed him to establish personal ties with many officers.
In 2000, shortly after Bashar became president, Maher became a member of Baath Party's second highest body, the Central Committee.
He has a reputation for being excessively violent and emotionally unstable, and allegedly shot and wounded his brother-in-law, Asef Shawkat.
In 2000, Maher is reported to have helped persuade Bashar to put an end to the political openness seen during the first few months of his rule - the short-lived "Damascus Spring". Years of suppression followed.
Three years later, Israeli media said Maher had attended a series of informal meetings in Jordan with the director of Israel's foreign minister and two Israeli-Arab businessmen to discuss resuming peace talks.
In 2005, Maher and Shawkat were both mentioned in a preliminary report by UN investigators as one of the people who might have planned the assassination of the former Lebanese Prime Minister, Rafik Hariri.
When mass pro-democracy protests began in the southern city of Deraa in March 2011, Maher's fourth armoured division - a successor to Rifaat al-Assad's Defence Brigades which is deployed on Syrian territory bordering the Israeli-occupied Golan Heights, and controls the capital's approaches - was sent in to crush them. Human rights activists say dozens of people have since been killed.
At one protest in Deraa, many shouted slogans denouncing Maher, including: "Maher you coward. Send your troops to liberate the Golan."
By late April, witnesses said the fourth division's tanks had cut off Deraa and were shelling residential areas, while troops were storming homes and rounding up people believed to have been taking part in the protests.
The US subsequently announced sanctions against Maher, saying the fourth division had "played a leading role in the Syrian regime's actions in Deraa". The EU also imposed sanctions on Maher, describing him as the "principal overseer of violence against demonstrators".
In May 2011, a video emerged purportedly showing Maher, dressed in a leather jacket and surrounded by police officers, firing a rifle at unarmed protesters in the Damascus suburb of Barzeh, external.
The next month, Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan told reporters: "I say this clearly and openly, from a humanitarian point of view, [Maher] is not behaving in a humane manner. And he is chasing after savagery."
Rumours persist that Maher might challenge his brother's rule - much like his uncle Rifaat attempted to seize power from Hafez in 1983 - but there is no evidence that he has sufficient power to challenge his rule.
Born in 1969, Mr Makhlouf took over the businesses built up by his father, Mohammed, the brother of Hafez al-Assad's wife, Anisa Makhlouf. After Bashar became president in 2000, Mr Makhlouf's financial empire expanded.
In 2001, he and the Egyptian telecommunications company, Orascom, were awarded one of Syria's two mobile phone operator licences. After a court dispute over control of Syriatel, Orascom was forced to sell its 25% stake.
When Riad Seif, an opposition MP, criticised the "irregularities" in the awarding of the phone licences, he was arrested and imprisoned.
In addition to Syriatel, Mr Makhlouf is believed to control two banks, free trade zones, duty free shops, a construction company, an airline, two TV channels, and imports luxury cars and tobacco. He also owns shares in and is vice-chairman of Cham Holding, considered Syria's largest private company, and has stakes in several oil and gas companies.
In 2008, the US treasury banned US firms and individuals from doing business with Mr Makhlouf, and froze his US-based assets. It accused him of "corrupt behaviour", "disadvantaging innocent Syrian businessmen and entrenching a regime that pursues oppressive and destabilising politics".
"Makhlouf has manipulated the Syrian judicial system and used Syrian intelligence officials to intimidate his business rivals. He employed these techniques when trying to acquire exclusive licenses to represent foreign companies in Syria and to obtain contract awards," a statement said.
"Despite President Assad's highly publicised anti-corruption campaigns, Makhlouf remains one of the primary centres of corruption in Syria."
The US imposed sanctions on Mr Makhlouf's younger brother, Hafez- a senior official in the General Security Directorate - in 2007 for his connection with efforts to reassert Syrian control over Lebanon.
Former Vice-President Abdul Halim Khaddam said in 2009 that Bashar's rule had been marked by "transforming corruption into an institution" headed by Mr Makhlouf. He said corruption, suppression of dissent, and economic hardship were pushing Syrians over the edge.
Two years later, anti-government protesters in Deraa initially directed their wrath at Mr Makhlouf, some chanting: "We'll say it clearly, Rami Makhlouf is robbing us". A branch of Syriatel in Deraa was set on fire.
Opposition websites later accused Mr Makhlouf of financing pro-government demonstrations both across Syria and abroad, by providing flags, meals and money for those participating.
In May 2011, the EU imposed sanctions against Mr Makhlouf, saying he was an "associate of Maher al-Assad" who "bankrolls the regime allowing violence against demonstrators".
The tycoon insists his businesses are legitimate and provide professional employment for thousands of Syrians.
Following the US sanctions announcement in 2007, he told the BBC that the designation was tantamount to "a medal we hang on our chest", and was part of a "political ploy aimed at undermining important individuals".
President Assad is reported to have been angered by an interview Mr Makhlouf gave to the New York Times in May 2011, in which he said the government would fight "until the end" and that it would "not suffer alone". He also said that regime change in Syria could push the Middle East into turmoil and even war. Syria's ambassador to the US responded by saying Mr Makhlouf was a "private citizen" who did not "speak on behalf of the Syrian authorities".
The next month Mr Makhlouf announced that he was quitting business and moving into charity work. He told a televised news conference that he would offer shares of Syriatel to the poor and that profits would go, in part, to the families of those killed in the uprising. Profits from other businesses would go to charitable and humanitarian organisations, Mr Makhlouf added, promising not to enter any new business venture that would bring him personal gain.
Opposition figures doubted the sincerity, though it did seem a member of the president's inner circle was being forced to publicly step aside.
In August 2011, the US imposed sanctions on Syriatel, saying the Syrian government had directed the company to "sever network connectivity in areas where attacks were planned" and that it had recorded mobile-phone conversations for the security services.
Born in 1946, Lt Gen Mamluk is the director of the Baath Party Regional Command's National Security Bureau (NSB), which in theory co-ordinates the work of Syria's intelligence agencies and formulates recommendations for the president. In practice, however, the agencies operate with a high degree of autonomy, answerable mainly to the president.
Between 2005 and 2012, he was head of the General Security Directorate (State Security), where he was involved in some of the most sensitive issues concerning Syria. Before that he was deputy head of the feared Air Force Intelligence.
A leaked US classified diplomatic cable discussing whether to impose financial sanctions on Gen Mamluk in 2007 said he was well known for his "objectionable activities regarding Lebanon, and his suppressing Syrian civil society and the internal opposition". The embassy in Damascus said sanctions against Gen Mamluk would "resonate well" in the country.
Despite this, Gen Mamluk discussed efforts to increase co-operation between Washington and Damascus on terrorism issues at a surprise meeting with US diplomats in 2010, according to a leaked US classified cable. He said the GSD had been more successful at fighting terrorism in the region because "we are practical and not theoretical".
In April 2011, the US government imposed sanctions on Gen Mamluk, saying he had been responsible for human rights abuses, including through the use of violence against civilians.
His agency had repressed internal dissent, monitored individual citizens, and had been "involved in the Syrian regime's actions in Deraa, where protesters were killed by Syrian security services", it alleged.
The next month, the EU also imposed sanctions on Gen Mamluk, saying he had been involved in efforts to crush anti-government protesters.
A Sunni from Damascus, he is said to be on good terms with all of Syria's intelligence agencies - Jamil Hassan, the head of Air Force Intelligence, and Mohammed Dib Zaitoun, the General Security Directorate chief, were once his assistants.
The US also said in April that Gen Mamluk had overseen a communications programme directed at opposition group and had received both technological and analytical support from Iran's ministry of intelligence and security (MOIS). Mamluk had "worked with the MOIS to provide both technology and training to Syria, to include internet monitoring technology" and "requested MOIS training and assistance on social media monitoring and other cyber tools for the GSD", it added.
Rami Abdul Rahman, the head of the UK-based Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, said Gen Mamluk had also met several opposition figures inside Syria to "incite them to renounce violence and back the reforms of the Assad regime".
President Assad asked Gen Mamluk to lead the National Security Bureau after its director, Gen Hisham Ikhtiar, died after a bomb attack on its headquarters on 18 July 2012, Syrian officials and Lebanese media reported. The blast also killed Mr Assad's brother-in-law, Deputy Defence Minister Gen Assef Shawkat, Defence Minister Gen Daoud Rajiha, and former Defence Minister Hassan Turkomani, who was in charge of the security forces' crisis management office.
Gen Qudsiya became deputy director of the National Security Bureau (NSB) in July 2012. He had previously been head of Military Intelligence, the paramount security agency in Syria.
Before replacing the president's late brother-in-law, Assef Shawkat, as military intelligence chief sometime between 2005 and 2009, he was head of Air Force Intelligence.
Earlier in his career, Gen Qudsiya - an Alawite born in 1953 - served as head of the Republican Guard's security office, and as personal secretary to the president.
Gen Qudsiya was asked in 2008 to lead the security committee investigating the assassination of Hezbollah military commander Imad Mughniyeh in Damascus. The committee notably did not include Gen Shawkat, who was criticised for failing to prevent the killing.
In May 2011, Gen Qudsiya was included in a list of Syrian officials subjected to EU sanctions for their roles in violence against protesters. Military Intelligence is said to have played a prominent role in the crackdown, firing on crowds of protesters and killing a large number of civilians.
The US also imposed sanctions on Gen Qudsiya later that month, accusing his agency of using force against and arresting demonstrators participating in the unrest.
Gen Qusiya was appointed Gen Ali Mamluk's deputy at the National Security Bureau following the bomb attack on its headquarters in Damascus on 18 July, Syrian officials and Lebanese media reported.
Maj Gen Rafiq Shahada is believed to be the head of Military Intelligence, the paramount security agency in Syria, which has a reputation for ruthless efficiency and whose leaders have wielded considerable influence over presidents.
As well as strategic and tactical intelligence, the agency has a critical role in ensuring the leadership's physical security and the loyalty of the army.
In August 2011, the EU imposed sanctions on Gen Shahada, describing him as head of Military Intelligence's Branch 293, which is responsible for internal affairs, in Damascus. He was accused of being "directly involved in repression and violence against the civilian population" in the capital. The EU also said Gen Shahada was also serving as adviser to President Assad for strategic questions and military intelligence.
Gen Shahada was promoted to chief of Military Intelligence in July 2012 after his predecessor, Abdul Fatah Qudsiya, became deputy head of the National Security Bureau, according to Syrian officials and Lebanese media reports. One unconfirmed report said Gen Shahada had until then been head of Military Intelligence in Homs.
Maj Gen Hassan replaced Abdul Fatah Qudsiya as head of Air Force Intelligence in 2009.
Though smaller than Military Intelligence, AFI is seen by some as the elite agency of Syria's intelligence empire. The agency owes its power to Hafez al-Assad, who was air force chief before coming to power in a coup. It plays a leading role in operations against Islamist opposition groups, as well as covert actions abroad, and has a reputation for brutality.
Gen Hassan, an Alawite, previously served as a security official in the eastern governorate of Deir al-Zour.
In late April 2011, personnel from Air Force Intelligence fired tear gas and live ammunition to disperse crowds of demonstrators who took to the streets in Damascus and other cities after noon prayers, killing at least 43 people, according to the US. In one incident in Nawa, PSD agents reportedly opened fire on a crowd of protesters waiving olive branches.
The next month, the EU said Gen Hassan was "involved in the repression against the civilian population" during the recent anti-government unrest, and imposed a travel ban and asset freeze on him.
Maj Gen Zaitoun, a Sunni born in 1951, is reportedly the new head of the General Security Directorate (GSD), which is the most powerful civilian intelligence agency and plays an important role in quelling internal dissent.
Tasked primarily with safeguarding against and preventing domestic subversion and organised crime, the GSD is organised into three branches - internal security, external security and Palestinian affairs. It controls the civilian police and the border guards, and has primary responsibility for surveillance of the Baath Party, the state bureaucracy and the general population.
Gen Zaitoun was previously head of the Political Security Directorate (PSD) between 2009 and 2012, and before then deputy head of the GSD.
In 2008, he was asked - along with other members of the president's inner circle - to investigate the assassination of Hezbollah's Imad Mughniyeh in Damascus.
In May 2011, the EU accused Gen Zaitoun of involvement in violence against demonstrators, and announced a travel ban and asset freeze. The US also imposed sanctions on him later that month, accusing him of human rights abuses.
Gen Zaitoun became head of the GSD in July 2012 following the bomb attack on the National Security Bureau in Damascus which killed four senior security chiefs, Syrian officials and Lebanese media reported.
Born in 1953, he is a former chief of Syrian Military Intelligence in Lebanon, and was in the post when Rafik Hariri was assassinated.
Gen Ghazali assumed command in 2002, and was the "implementing agent of Syrian policies in Lebanon" until the Syrian withdrawal in 2005, according to the US treasury department. It accused Gen Ghazali of manipulating Lebanese politics to ensure officials and public policy remained committed to Syria's goals and interests. He reportedly used his influence to ensure former President Emile Lahoud's term of office was renewed, while Lebanon's military chiefs allegedly reported to him.
After the withdrawal from Lebanon little was heard of him. However, at the beginning of the protests in the city of Deraa, Gen Ghazali was sent by Bashar al-Assad to assure locals of the president's good intentions. He reportedly told them: "We have released the children" - a reference to several teenagers who were arrested for writing anti-regime graffiti inspired by the events in Egypt and Tunisia.
In May 2011, the EU said Gen Ghazali was head of Military Intelligence in Damascus Countryside (Rif Dimashq) governorate, which borders Deraa governorate, and was involved in "violence against the civilian population". The US imposed individual sanctions on Gen Ghazali the next month, saying he was a high-ranking member of Military Intelligence.
In July 2012, Gen Ghazali was appointed head of the PSD following the bomb attack on the National Security Bureau in Damascus, Syrian officials and Lebanese media reported. His appointment firmly quashed rumours that he had defected the previous week.
Gen Kheirbek is a member of the Alawite Kalabiya tribe, to which Bashar al-Assad belongs. Their families are also connected by marriage - a relative is married to one of Rifaat al-Assad's daughters.
The general, who was born in 1937 and is reported to have medical problems, has long served the Syrian regime and remains an influential adviser to the president. He was a very close adviser to the late Hafez al-Assad before being appointed deputy director of the General Security Directorate (GSD) in 1999.
He served in the position until 2006, when he was named deputy vice-president for security affairs. The next year, the US froze his assets for "contributing to the government of Syria's problematic behaviour", which it said included support of international terrorism, the pursuit of weapons of mass destruction, and the undermining of efforts in Iraq.
A leaked US diplomatic cable described Gen Kheirbek as Syria's "point-man for its relationship with Iran". It said designating him could "heighten Syrian and regional concerns about the [government's] willingness to accommodate an expansionary Iranian agenda".
In May 2011, the EU imposed sanctions on Gen Kheirbek, saying he had been "involved in violence against the civilian population".
The next month, the general reportedly travelled to Tehran to meet Gen Qasem Soleimani, commander of the Quds Force, the elite overseas operations arm of Iran's Islamic Revolution Guards Corps (IRGC). They are said to have discussed opening a supply route that would enable Iran to transfer military hardware directly to Syria via a new military compound at Latakia airport.
Gen Shalish is Bashar's first cousin and head of Presidential Security, an elite force. In June 2011, the EU imposed sanctions of him, saying he had been "involved in violence against demonstrators".
He once owned SES International, which the US government alleged in 2005 was a "vehicle to put military goods into the hands" of former Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein and his regime.
He and his brother, Assef, who managed SES, acted as a "false end user" for Iraq, helping to procure defence-related goods for the Iraqi military before the US-led invasion, it added. SES allegedly provided exporters with end-user certificates indicating Syria was the final destination, and then shipped them illegally to Iraq. He was said to have provided close personal assistance to Saddam's oldest son, Uday.
Gen Shalish's influence within the president's inner circle is believed to have increased since the beginning of the uprising. Joshua Landis of the University of Oklahoma told the New York Times in July 2012 that he was now a key financier and organiser of feared pro-Assad militiamen known as "shabiha", who activists say have been used by the government to intensify the crackdown on protesters and commit atrocities on its behalf.
Gen Shalish and his immediate family were "looked at as lowlife no-goodniks a year ago, but today they have been catapulted into the ranks of the inner circle because they are willing to do the dirty work for the regime," Mr Landis said. "There are only so many family members." | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 56 | https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/middle-east/1983-12-01/assad-and-future-middle-east | en | Assad and the Future of the Middle East | [
"https://cdn-live.foreignaffairs.com/sites/default/files/styles/_webp_issue_small_1x/public/images/2024/06/10/FA_JA_2024_Cover.jpg.webp?itok=GIlls6Si",
"https://cdn-live.foreignaffairs.com/sites/default/files/styles/_webp_720_max_width/public/images/2024/07/11/Header%20copy.png.webp?itok=Z9vhw2t9",
"https://cdn... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Robert G. Neumann",
"CFR.org Editors",
"Author:Ebenezer Obadare",
"Author:Michelle Gavin"
] | 1983-12-01T00:00:00 | Syria's relationship to the U.S.S.R. is another Middle East complexity that does not easily fit into the clear definitions preferred by Western, and especially by American, observers. | en | /themes/fa/favicon.ico | Foreign Affairs | https://www.foreignaffairs.com/articles/middle-east/1983-12-01/assad-and-future-middle-east | The consequences of Israel's invasion of Lebanon in 1982 have significantly changed the entire range of power relationships in the Middle East. They have done so in a manner neither desired nor expected by any of the players in this latest phase of the Middle East puzzle game. They have enabled Syria suddenly to emerge from isolation and humiliation and to seize the power switch of Middle Eastern diplomacy. They have diminished and rendered uncertain Israel's role in the area. They have brought the Soviet Union back into the Middle East in a position of influence from which it will not easily be dislodged. They have profoundly affected American diplomacy, drawing it away from a broadly based peace initiative and sucking the Marines into a narrow, dangerous position in Lebanon, where U.S. forces have already suffered serious casualties. And they have conjured up again the danger of a superpower confrontation in the area which neither power desires but which the Soviet Union may be less reluctant to avoid than in the past.
Israel made a fundamental miscalculation in its 1982 invasion of Lebanon and achieved none of its broader goals. Defense Minister Ariel Sharon's sweeping geopolitical concepts were clear: to secure the northern borders of Israel from PLO-organized rocket attacks (hence "Peace in Galilee"); to destroy the Palestine Liberation Organization militarily and politically, thereby depriving the Arab population of the occupied West Bank of leadership; to have Lebanon's Maronite Phalange (Lebanese Forces) join Israel's final drive into Beirut and form a Phalange-dominated Lebanese government, which would then become the second Arab country to sign a peace treaty with Israel; and, more long run, to encourage or push the Palestinians on the West Bank and in the Diaspora to move to Jordan ("Jordan is Palestine"), where they would, because of their overwhelming majority, eventually overthrow the Hashemite dynasty. The ensuing destabilization would once again produce Israel's intervention in one form or another. That would bring Israel's power to the borders of Saudi Arabia and radiate its influence as far away as Pakistan and even into Africa.1 Thus would Israel become the overwhelming master of the Middle East, the Arab cause would be seen as hopeless, and one Arab country after another would feel compelled to sue for peace.
It was a grandiose dream but nearly all of it came to nought. Security for Israel's northern region was obtained-yet that had not been seriously threatened since the summer of 1981. The destruction of the Soviet-supplied Syrian air defense system and the greater part of the Syrian air force seemed at the time to humiliate Syria and the Soviet Union, but proved to lead directly, in December 1982, to the Soviets furnishing more advanced replacements. The war and its aftermath proved long and extraordinarily costly to Israel in lives and expenses, it deeply affected national unity and Israel's standing in the world, and it also broke the will and the heart of its once charismatic leader, Menachem Begin.
Israel has quickly drawn lessons from its setback and shifted from adventurism to damage control. Moshe Arens, Sharon's successor as Defense Minister, became instrumental in detaching Israel from its disappointing alliance with the Phalange, giving up the idea of a Maronite-dominated Lebanon, and attempting to court Druze and Shi'ite communities, though not with great success. In early September, the Israelis withdrew from Beirut to the Awali River to shorten their lines and increase the security of their forces. But by so doing, they rendered inevitable a new and even more murderous phase in the ten-year-old war in Lebanon as the Druze population of the Shouf Mountains battled the Phalange. It was the Israelis who had allowed the Phalange into the Shouf at certain critical points, thereby acquiring additional moral responsibility for what happened. A deeply divided Israel, still absorbing the lessons of Lebanon under a less charismatic leader than Begin, and facing deep economic problems, is in no mood for new adventures unless directly threatened.
America meanwhile has moved increasingly into Israel's former role without fully understanding all of its implications. No grand design underlay U.S. involvement in Lebanon. Rather, it was the result of miscalculations which were quite different from those of the Israelis, a fact illustrated by the three-month gap between the Israeli invasion and our first serious policy statement. On September 1, 1982, President Reagan laid down the lines of America's Middle East policy. He proposed a comprehensive peace plan for the Middle East, epitomized in the "territories for peace" formula and a clear-cut U.S. position favoring Palestinian self-government in conjunction with Jordan. Only secondarily did the President demand the evacuation of Lebanon by all foreign forces, i.e., Israelis, Syrians, and remaining Palestinians. But a series of wrong predictions and wrong moves shifted the entire emphasis of U.S. policy to Lebanon, leaving the broader peace objectives unimplemented.
To begin with, some top officials confidently stated that peace would be achieved quickly and easily in Lebanon-"before Christmas" of 1982. Many Arab leaders also urged the Lebanese priority on the American government. But that only proves that Arabs can be as ignorant of Lebanon and America's ability to change conditions there as Americans. Diplomats, they thought, could return to the broader peace initiative after America's prestige and credibility had been enhanced by its presumed success in Lebanon. In the meantime, the U.S. government expected that King Hussein of Jordan, in agreement with Yassir Arafat of the PLO, would produce some movement on the broader peace front by declaring his willingness to negotiate with Israel.
Neither expectation was realistic. King Hussein had made it clear all along that he would come to the negotiating table only if the eventual disposition of the occupied territories was discussed and not merely transitional autonomy terms-preconditions certain to be rejected by the Begin government.2
As to Lebanon, it is a mystery what the easy optimism of an early evacuation was based on. Neither Syria nor Israel was motivated to withdraw quickly. The Begin government was determined to hold out for sizable political gains to vindicate the invasion. Syria, which had first sent its army into Lebanon in 1976 in response to a call for help from the embattled Maronites3 and had later switched sides, showed no inclination to withdraw.
Nine months were wasted in increasingly fruitless shuttles by America's Middle East negotiator, Ambassador Philip Habib, until Secretary of State George Shultz took charge on May 17, 1983, and obtained a Lebanese-Israeli withdrawal agreement. It was greeted with considerable satisfaction in Washington, yet it bore within it the seeds of its own destruction.
Syria had not been included in the negotiations, and Syria's indications that it would withdraw, once Israel did, had been taken at face value, as if the type of withdrawal agreement would make no difference. Under the agreement, Israel had gained special rights in southern Lebanon which were to prove fatal. The agreement bordered on a peace treaty because of a "normalization of relations" provision, including liaison missions and trade. This created a sour note in Syria and throughout the Arab world. Even if Syria had actually been ready to withdraw once Israel did, it was hardly likely that it would do so if the special rights accorded Israel under the May 17 agreement were maintained.
There is a widespread impression in America that peace in the Middle East can be achieved "one step at a time" or perhaps "one peace at a time." In support of this contention, Americans frequently cite the Camp David Accords by which Egypt, in making peace with Israel, obtained the return of the Sinai peninsula.
The Arabs view the Camp David Accords exactly the opposite way. They consider them a disaster because, by taking Egypt out of the Arab front, they permanently unbalanced the power relationship between the Arabs and Israel. Moreover, while Egyptian President Anwar Sadat gained the return of the Sinai, he did not obtain the return of the West Bank to Arab control, and that was important to him and to the rest of the Arab world. To the Arabs, the "one peace at a time" formula constitutes a nightmare image of increasingly impotent Arab states having to cut unfavorable deals with an overpowering Israel. Syria is particularly affected by this thought because, having long been isolated, it fears that under this scenario it would be the last and therefore the weakest to sign up. This same apprehension turned Saudi Arabia against Egypt after Sadat signed his separate peace with Israel. It was this concern that played right into Assad's hands and made him determined to overthrow the Gemayel government and force the nullification of the Israeli-Lebanese-U.S. withdrawal agreement.
He has refused even to negotiate on a withdrawal of foreign forces from Lebanon, calling the May 1983 agreement "a Zionist-American hegemonistic plan. . . .worse than the Camp David Accords." Renewed fighting in September was stimulated and supported by Syrian forces in northern and eastern Lebanon, and Assad's agreement to a cease-fire was conditioned on national reconciliation talks among various Lebanese political and religious factions that would spell, in effect, the end of the Gemayel government as then constituted. The Syrian leader also determined once and for all to bring the PLO under total Syrian control. To this end he encouraged and then supported by all means, including arms and regular Syrian forces, the destruction of Yassir Arafat.4
In one fell swoop, Hafez al-Assad has emerged from years of isolation and placed himself at the power switch of Middle East policy. For some time to come, he will remain a man who cannot be ignored by anyone who seeks influence in the region.
II
Hafez al-Assad evokes mixed reactions in Arab countries outside Syria. The harshness of his regime and the brutality with which he has suppressed dissidents, especially in Hama, arouse resentment and fear. The implacable resolve with which he carries on his feud with his fellow Arabs and fellow Baathists in Iraq is deeply regretted. And the fact that, in pursuit of the latter aim, he has closed Iraq's pipeline through Syria and favored Khomeini's Iran has profoundly upset the Arab states of the Gulf. Furthermore, while all Arab governments have had problems at various times with Yassir Arafat and the PLO, attempts by any one government to destroy or control the PLO have been resented.
Yet harshness in the single-minded pursuit of policy evokes both fear and admiration in the Arab world, and Assad has much support for his opposition to Lebanon's quasi peace with Israel under the withdrawal agreement. The same is true of his opposition to a Phalange-dominated Lebanese government, because the Phalange is viewed not only as a tool of Israel but also as a group that seeks to separate Lebanon from the main currents of Arab life. In such opposition, Assad has the support not only of Lebanon's Muslims and of the northern Maronites but also of a great many non-Maronite Christians (Greek Orthodox, Greek Catholic, Armenian, etc.) who constitute sizable minorities in other Arab countries (13 percent in Syria, 5 percent in Jordan, 5 percent in Iraq) and who fear for their future if they become identified with Phalangist "separateness."
Nor can one ignore Assad's prime superpower supporter, the Soviet Union. Syria's relationship to the U.S.S.R. is another Middle East complexity that does not easily fit into the clear definitions preferred by Western, and especially by American, observers. Imperial Russia, and even more so the Soviet Union, has consistently attempted to gain a place of influence in the Middle East. The U.S.S.R. recognized the new state of Israel the same day as the United States; the weapons used by Israel in its war of independence came largely from Communist Czechoslovakia.5 During the early Stalinist time, the Soviet Union operated primarily through traditional communist parties in the Middle East. That relationship brought very few results. When the Soviet Union realized that Arab nationalism aroused by the creation of Israel provided more fertile soil, it changed its method and switched sides.
The U.S.S.R. wants several things in the Middle East, above all a recognized place for what it believes to be its legitimate interest in that area lying close to its borders. Hence its resentment about repeated American attempts to exclude it therefrom. Even more concern has arisen in the U.S.S.R. over the American quest for military bases in the region and organization of the Rapid Deployment Force.
Beginning in 1955, and especially after America's rejection of the Aswan Dam in 1956, Egypt's President Gamal Abdel Nasser became the main Soviet "window" in the Middle East, but at the same time both Syria and Iraq were courted and received large military equipment, the principal tool of spreading Soviet influence-building.
Then, after President Sadat ejected the Russians abruptly in 1972 and Iraq attacked Iran in 1980, Syria became the Soviet Union's only viable "window" and thereby attained particular importance in Soviet eyes. The Soviet-Syrian Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation was signed in October 1980, calling for "cooperation in the military field" and mutual consultations on threats to each other's security or violations of peace and security "in the whole world." As a result, substantial Soviet aid was extended to the Syrian ground forces, as well as the Syrian air defense and air forces. And then, when the latter were wiped out by Israel in June 1982, the Russians embarked in December 1982 on the largest reequipment effort in their history. They not only gave the Syrians an air defense system of unprecedented sophistication, but also furnished ground-launched missiles that now present a serious threat even to American offshore naval power. And, having seen how inept the Syrians had been in June 1982, this time the Soviets are themselves operating this equipment with a force estimated at 8,000 combat Soviet personnel. In the opinion of experts, it will be four to five years before the Syrians will become fully capable of handling the new equipment.
This new degree of Soviet involvement raises serious questions. Thus far the Syrians have proved themselves quite independent of Soviet direction when it suited them. In fact, there is considerable evidence that the Soviet leadership has been quite unhappy over Assad's harsh treatment of Yassir Arafat, but Assad paid no attention to Soviet advice and the Soviets subsided.
For the time being, the Soviets are taking the long view. They enjoy being on the side of a winner and profit from the diminution of America's position as a result of America's expected failure in Lebanon. At the moment, therefore, it is inaccurate to treat Syria as simply a Soviet agent. If anything, the Syrian tail often wags the Soviet dog. But the predominant weight of the U.S.S.R. and its control over Syria's air defense and other missile systems will confront Syria and all Middle Eastern countries, as well as the United States, with a new range of problems and options that will be examined later in this article.
III
In Lebanon, Assad has pretty well succeeded in attaining his principal objective. A number of circumstances have helped him. Lebanon became a state only in recent history. Whether it ever became a nation is open to debate. The Ottoman Empire, which governed the region until 1918, had attempted to calm the long-turbulent land by creating a complicated system of confessional balance, which later became the basis of the National Pact of 1943. But the weakness of the "sick man of Europe" (as the Turkish realm had long been called) invited the intrigues and machinations of foreign powers, each becoming the patron of one sect or region, a forerunner of later developments. In Turkish days that game was played by the French, British, Russians, and Austrians. That role was played much later by Syria and Israel.
The oft-quoted "greater Syria" concept was originally a Jordanian idea, when TransJordan's first ruler, Abdullah, aspired to establish his throne in Damascus. Later, but well before Assad, the idea had been co-opted by Syrian nationalists, arguing this partly from the fact that the Turks had made the Bekaa Valley of Lebanon a part of the district (vilayet) of Damascus. The nebulous nature of the relationship between Syria and Lebanon had prevented the Syrians from ever establishing an embassy in Beirut while keeping the Lebanese from sending permanent envoys to Damascus.
This situation became further complicated by the massive entry of Palestinians into Lebanon. They had begun to flee into the then relatively prosperous and open Lebanon after successive Arab-Israeli wars. Many more went to Lebanon when they were driven out of Jordan after their unsuccessful attempt to seize power in that country in the "Black September" of 1970. That sparked the final destabilization of Lebanon, as the Palestinians established virtually a state within a state there. In Lebanon's ten-year-long civil war they usually sided with the Muslims against the Christians while at the same time using Lebanon's weakness for forays into northern Israel. Syria's entry in 1976 reinforced the Syrian claims and had the tacit consent of Israel, which coveted the southern region of Lebanon for itself.
Israel, virtually since its foundation, has aspired to a special relationship, even an alliance, with the Christian Maronites of Lebanon, whom Israel regarded as a bulwark against the flood of overwhelmingly Muslim Arabs.6 This set the stage for the relations between the Phalange, led by the charismatic Bashir Gemayel, and the Israelis, who equipped and trained his forces. In Ariel Sharon's plan, the Phalange was to be accorded a special place to join forces with the Israelis in occupying Beirut and in establishing a Maronite-dominated state allied with Israel.
But the plan ran awry. As Bashir Gemayel's position became ever more powerful, he became reluctant to play the role the Israelis had assigned him. This was first revealed when the Phalange stood aside in the final Israeli onslaught on Beirut. It became more obvious when, for a short while, Lebanese of all factions realized that Bashir Gemayel was the only man who had the chance to unify Lebanon. Menachem Begin and Ariel Sharon, with their total disdain and ignorance of Arab mentality, never understood that it might well have been in their interest to give in to Bashir Gemayel's insistence on putting some distance between himself and them.
On September 1, 1982, the very day that President Reagan made his Middle East policy speech in the United States, Begin met secretly with Bashir not far from the northern Israeli town of Nahariyya, pounded him with accusations of betrayal, and demanded a formal peace treaty between Lebanon and Israel. The presence at that meeting of Saad Haddad, the cashiered Lebanese major and Israel's proxy, further underlined Begin's message that if Bashir Gemayel did not give in, there was another solution available to the Israelis.7 Bashir knew that, if he did not resist Begin's demands, he could never lead a unified Lebanon. But, as so often in Lebanon's history, that brief dream became extinct when Bashir Gemayal was assassinated a short while later.
It has to be left to speculation whether Bashir Gemayel, with his strong, even brutal, leadership of the Phalange, could have realized his promise of holding the Phalange in line while holding out his hand to the other groups and militias. It is an even greater question whether Israel and Syria would have allowed him to do so.
In any event, such an opportunity did not long remain with Bashir's successor and older brother, Amin Gemayel. For a short while Amin inherited the good will that had swept toward his dead brother. Had he moved quickly toward reconciliation with Sunnis, Shi'ites and Druze, perhaps he might have succeeded-although it was always a question to what extent he could control his own Phalangist forces. He certainly never had the standing with them that characterized Bashir.
What did happen was that Amin hesitated. He could not control the Phalange military leadership, which did as it pleased, massacred the Palestinians in the Shatila and Sabra refugee camps, and pushed Shi'ites and Druze around. Quite likely the Phalange leaders thought that they had America's forces in their corner and no longer needed to reach out for a national consensus. This pushed Druze and Shi'ites in the opposite direction, toward Syria. And later, when the Israeli-Lebanese-U.S. withdrawal agreement appeared to challenge Syria's claim to leadership in Lebanon, and especially after the partial Israeli withdrawal from the Shouf Mountains created a vacuum, the civil war not only started again with great violence but also greatly solidified Syria's leadership over all anti-Phalangist forces, since the anti-Phalangists needed Syrian weapons and support to carry on the fight.
At this juncture, peace could come to Lebanon only if a fundamental restructuring of political, social, and economic power were to take place that would reduce Maronite domination and enhance the power of those hitherto neglected groups, the Druze and especially the Shi'ites who had become the largest single group in Lebanon. This is not to say that these groups are particularly comfortable with Syrian domination. The Shi'ites at first accepted the Israeli presence largely out of hatred for the Palestinians; they became disenchanted with the Israelis when the latter neglected them and favored the Christian Major Saad Haddad in Shi'ite-dominated southern Lebanon. This is even more true of the Druze, who have lived in blood feuds with the Maronites for well over a century. Although their leader, Walid Jumblatt, had little reason to love the Syrians, who are generally believed to have been responsible for the assassination of his father, he felt that he had no choice except Syrian tutelage.
All of this complicated U.S. strategy. American Marines had originally landed-first to provide a screen for the evacuation of the Palestinian fighters and later to provide greater stability for the government in the halcyon days of hope for Lebanese unity under Amin Gemayel. But, by this act, America has slid incrementally into a most awkward predicament. The more it becomes identified with the Phalange and takes military action against the Druze and Shi'ites, the more it becomes a partisan and the more Assad's leadership is strengthened. The more America views the Lebanese conflict and Syria's position there in a primarily East-West context, the more Assad and his Lebanese allies need a close relationship with Moscow, thus making America's conception a self-fulfilling prophecy.
In U.S. government circles, some argue for greater American-Israeli coordination in order to achieve a balance of power with Damascus and Moscow. As of mid-November 1983, it appears that the United States has moved down this road at least to a limited extent, seeking to strengthen the Israeli position and role with the sweetening of significant new forms of U.S. aid. If this view prevails, the result would most likely be the very opposite of what its proponents desire. Temporarily and militarily, the Syrians and their Soviet backers may become more cautious. But politically, they would gain not only in Lebanon but throughout the Middle East, as even moderate Arab states would feel obliged to move closer to Syria, because their internal stability would be undercut if they appear ready to cooperate with a perceived U.S.-Israel combination.
Consequently it has to be accepted that for the foreseeable future Assad will remain a dominant force in Lebanon. His power rests on a good deal more than the presence of his army. This was further emphasized by the fact that the fragile cease-fire agreement of September 1983, which Saudi Arabia's Prince Bandar bin Sultan hammered out in close collaboration with U.S. special envoy Robert McFarlane, was announced in Damascus.
Assad's aims in Lebanon are not difficult to discern. They are, first of all, a dominant role in Lebanon, and through that, a place in the Middle East so strong that nothing can be settled there without his consent. For Lebanon, this certainly means that the Syrian troops will remain not only as long as the Israeli forces are there but also as long as the Israeli-Lebanese-U.S. withdrawal agreement remains in force, as it gives special rights in Lebanon to the Israelis. If the Israelis were to withdraw unconditionally-which is unlikely to occur soon-the presence in Lebanon of Syrian troops might no longer be required if Assad's domination were assured by other means, and if there were a pliant Lebanese government, probably but not necessarily under someone other than Amin Gemayel.
The United States, with limited forces in Lebanon, and in the face of congressional and popular resistance to further American involvement there, is in no position effectively to challenge Syrian predominance in Lebanon. Only Israel could do that, but whether Israel would wish to do so is highly questionable.
Israel has become introspective, reexamining its own nature and aspirations. For the first time, the nature of the state and the mission of its armed forces and military policy are questioned, endangering the unity that is vital to Israel's security. There is now a sharp and distinct division between the opposition Labor alliance's view that Israel must withdraw from Lebanon (except for some security provisions in the south) and must come to some territorial revision on the West Bank, and the Likud government view, which wants to do neither. The prospect is for weak Israeli governments with uncertain life spans, facing a severe economic crisis that demands drastic measures further dividing the political spectrum. And there remains the divisive problem of what to do with the large and restive Arab population under Israel's control.
In such a situation, Israel can hardly be expected to be in a mood for new adventures in Lebanon. To be sure, there are Israeli politicians who believe Israel should come to the aid of its ally the United States and move against the Syrians and in support of the Gemayel government. But a more dominant trend is that Israel must now look after its own interests and not move against Syria unless clearly threatened. There are even those in Israel who feel that its northern border may be more secure when faced by a Syrian-dominated region. Syria scrupulously observes the armistice on its own borders, and its firm control of the PLO has shown that no uncontrolled element will be allowed near Israel's lines unless the Syrians want this to happen. There are even those in Israel who believe that it should try to cut a deal with a strong Syria rather than a weaker Jordan.
IV
What will be the consequences of Syria's new prominence? Saudi Arabia resented Assad's torpedoing of the attempted first Fez summit meeting, which reconvened on September 9, 1982, succeeding only with great difficulties. Saudi Arabia is also unhappy over Syria's siding with Iran and against Iraq. They fear that an Iranian victory would have incalculable dangers and consequences for the entire Gulf region. But Saudi Arabia, conscious of its great wealth and physical vulnerability, has always preferred efforts at getting along with radical neighbors over confrontation. Even when it finally subsidizes a radical state like Syria, it prefers persuasion to threats of withholding funds-not unlike America's attitude toward Israel. Its increasingly active diplomacy has been apprehensive over Syria's close involvement with the Soviet Union but has attempted to deal with Syria on a case-by-case basis, not as an adversary. This is also why Saudi Arabia has gone well beyond its usual discreet and indirect action in working so closely with the United States to bring about a cease-fire in Lebanon: it would need both the United States and Syria, though in different ways, should there be outright hostility by Iran. By brokering a cease-fire in Lebanon and taking steps toward reconciliation, which, if successful, would be essentially favorable to Syria, Saudi Arabia has acknowledged facts.
If Americans were to side too openly with the Phalangists and continue to bombard Druze and Shi'ite forces in Lebanon, Saudi Arabia would have to put distance between itself and the United States. It hopes to avoid such a situation by adroit diplomacy. Saudi Arabia will continue to watch the situation warily, and if some Arab coalition were to start forming to balance Syria, Saudi Arabia might well lend it its support.
The situation is even more awkward for Jordan. Jordan and Syria have been frequent adversaries, and during the 1970 "Black September" uprising of the PLO, Jordanian tanks and planes as well as an Israeli threat of intervention stopped Syria's tanks from advancing against Jordanian lines.
Jordan's principal sensitivity is, however, directed toward the Palestinian question. In an endeavor to move toward possible negotiation with Israel and the PLO, King Hussein welcomed the Reagan plan and began a dialogue with Yassir Arafat with a view toward arriving at a common negotiating formula. Arafat was frustrated by more radical groups within the PLO structure and even more by Syria's influence, which suspected another "Camp David" from Jordan and vigorously opposed any peace initiative that would exclude Syria. In the face of such opposition, Yassir Arafat had to go back on the modest progress that his discussions with King Hussein had made, and this caused Hussein to withdraw from the whole effort in April 1983.8
In the new situation created by a much more powerful Syria with enhanced control over the PLO, a new Jordanian initiative has become even more difficult, and in a spirit of deep disappointment over U.S. failure to proceed more vigorously with Reagan's "territory for peace" formula, Hussein has begun to take steps toward better relations with both Syria and Moscow. But Hussein is clearly not comfortable in that association and would probably prefer to return to his earlier initiative if he were confident of U.S. steadfastness and could count on a forthcoming Palestinian attitude.
To this end, King Hussein has let it be known that if the PLO were to come completely under Syrian control, he might no longer feel bound by the 1974 Rabat summit resolution, which declared the PLO the sole legitimate representative of the Palestinian people. But what Hussein could in fact do is less clear. He certainly cannot simply negotiate on behalf of the Palestinians without a mandate from them. Such a mandate might conceivably come from West Bank leaders if they were convinced that Arafat was finished and that no significant PLO remnant continued to exist outside Syrian control.
Another approach could be the long-rumored Jordanian return to a parliamentary form of government, in which West Bank Palestinians would obtain sizable representation. Both these alternatives would require Israeli acquiescence, of which there is no evidence as these lines are written.
Yassir Arafat, even in his moment of extreme peril, showed renewed interest in a resumption of his talks with Hussein. But whether he will be in a position to undertake it is seriously in doubt. He and his PLO fighters had earlier emerged in relatively good shape from the battering they took from the Israelis. When they had to accept evacuation from Lebanon, Arafat, fearing the total Syrian domination long attempted by Assad, strenuously resisted establishing his headquarters in Damascus, and chose the more distant but politically innocuous Tunis. Arafat's subsequent negotiation with King Hussein determined President Assad to finish off Arafat once and for all. But leadership in the Arab world is inextricably tied to an espousal of the Palestinian cause; thus any Arab claim to leadership would be severely damaged by opposition from the PLO. This Assad was determined to prevent.
Assad moved in his habitual style of methodical preparation and harsh thrusts. In the past, rebellions against Yassir Arafat's leadership had mainly occurred outside the Fatah movement, the largest core of the PLO. This time it was to happen within. Assad's power grab was aided by Arafat's unwise appointment of two ineffective and discredited officers to higher command. On the other hand, the rebellion remained handicapped by the obvious fashion in which it was fomented by Assad. When Assad decided to move even more forcefully against him, Arafat, realizing that he had no chance against such determination, attempted to effect yet another of his innumerable compromises and returned to Damascus. But Assad would have none of it and forcibly evicted him and his lieutenants from Syria. He allowed Arafat to escape to the northern Lebanese town of Tripoli where the majority of his fighters who remained in Lebanon are concentrated. But Assad is clearly out to crush Arafat and has now moved against him even there. The end of an independent PLO, at least in Lebanon, appears to be in sight, even though the Soviets and several Arab governments have pleaded with Assad for a compromise.
Total Syrian control over the PLO would strengthen Assad's hand in Lebanon, but not in the region. The Palestinians on the West Bank clearly oppose Syrian control and have therefore remained firm in their support for Arafat's leadership. If a Syrian-dominated PLO were to reemphasize "armed struggle," as seems likely, this would cause a deep split in the West Bank Palestinians, who have a more realistic view of Israeli retaliatory power-of which they would be the prime victims. This would also cause serious misgivings in the rest of the Arab world.
Although every Arab country has had its conflicts with Arafat, the Arab world was clearly uncomfortable with Assad's move against the PLO and gave him no support. On the contrary, verbal support for Arafat came from every country with the exception of Syria and Libya-but little else. Only one potential ally is conceivable, and that is Egypt. But such a move on Egypt's part is nowhere in sight. It remains a possibility for the future if Arafat can stay alive and in command of a sizable element of the PLO that long.
Egypt's course, even before Sadat's death, has been uncertain. Sadat's grand strategy was clear, imaginative-and flawed. He understood the deep psychological barrier between Israel and the Arab world, especially the conviction of Menachem Begin and many others that the Arabs would never make peace with Israel. Fortified by the performance of Egyptian arms in the 1973 war, Sadat felt strong enough to take a daring step toward peace by his trip to Jerusalem. By this he hoped to convince the Israelis that peace was possible. He emphasized in every one of his declarations, beginning with his speech to the Knesset, that the price for peace was the return of the West Bank to Arab control.
This, however, Begin was never prepared to do. And although Sadat obtained the return of the Sinai Peninsula, the opportunity to return triumphantly to the Arab fold as the one leader who was able to win the great and decisive prize of a Palestinian solution was denied him. The Egyptian people were glad to have peace after so many bloodlettings and welcomed large American assistance after Camp David, but help from the United States alone could never be sufficient to solve Egypt's massive social and economic problems. The peace with Israel turned increasingly sour.
Hosni Mubarak, Sadat's successor, felt deeply humiliated by Israel's invasion of Lebanon: the peace treaty with Israel, which he did not want to renounce, immobilized his armed forces, and no other Arab country had the capability of intervening and stopping Israel's awesome military might. Egypt's frustration expressed itself by the withdrawal of its ambassador from Israel and President Mubarak's declaration that the ambassador would not return until Israel's forces had withdrawn from Lebanon. To this Mubarak added another condition during his October 1983 visit to the United States: namely, that there would be no exchange of ambassadors until Israel also stopped all settlements on the West Bank.
With that act Mubarak signaled even more clearly that, while he did not wish to give up the peace treaty with Israel, he had in fact put it in cold storage and wanted to move further toward a return to the Arab fold. Egyptian pride did not permit a return on other than Egyptian terms, and for that the rest of the Arabs were not yet ready.
But the sudden rise to leadership of Hafez Assad may eventually motivate Egypt to move more directly toward a position of leadership in the Arab camp and could make that step more acceptable to the moderate Arabs. One way of doing so would be by offering asylum to Arafat-if he survives-and the remnants of his Palestinian movement and also supporting resumption of Jordanian-PLO negotiations. But by suggesting that the PLO form a "government in exile," Egypt expects that Arafat would be willing to abandon the doctrine of "armed struggle," finally accept that a split in his movement has become fact-even without Syrian intervention-and move clearly and unmistakably in the direction of a diplomatic and political solution. Such a step would achieve a greater balance in Arab ranks, it would restore the traditional situation in which Cairo and Damascus were often rival power centers, and it would give life to a new peace initiative either within the Reagan plan or some other formula.
Even though the moderate Arab countries, notably Saudi Arabia, have been sympathetic to Egypt's return, they fear that by accepting a country that has made a separate peace with Israel, they would make themselves too vulnerable to radical attacks. Egypt, on the other hand, feels that by retaining its link with Israel-however frail-while rejoining the Arab fold, the Arabs would signal a greater readiness for peace, which Egypt regards as their only choice against an overwhelmingly strong and American-assisted Israel.
The gap between these two positions has been narrowed but not closed. Egypt will not take overt steps until it has been reassured in advance of being welcomed back, "warts and all." But in the meantime it has strengthened its position among the Arabs by postponing indefinitely the return of an Egyptian ambassador to Tel Aviv despite severe pressure from Israel and from some American circles.
Israel's growing disenchantment with its cold peace with Egypt stokes the fire of those Israeli extremists who have always been convinced that a negotiated peace could never be achieved between Israelis and Arabs. But to more impartial observers, it would seem that in the long run Israel's security would benefit from the return to the Arab camp of a country which did make peace with Israel and whose weight would strengthen those who strive for a diplomatic rather than a military solution.
V
High as Assad stands in the Arab fold, his long-term success is by no means guaranteed. His rise is very high but his power base is very narrow. He is a member of the Alawite sect, an offshoot of Shi'ites regarded by the overwhelming majority of Sunni Syrians as heretical, and the Alawites constitute no more than ten percent of the Syrian population.
Also, Lebanon has proved slippery ground for all those who entered it intending to remain, as the Israelis have come to realize. No Lebanese group is really at ease under Syrian domination; the presence of Syrian soldiers in the relative comfort and freedom of Lebanon has proved demoralizing and corrupting to the Syrian army; and Assad faces serious economic problems at home.
Nor should one discount Iraq's return to the quest for leadership that it had to abandon when its war against Iran turned sour. Some day the war will end and then Iraq's manpower resources (greater than those of Syria), its large oil reserves and bloodied but combat-experienced army could make Hafez al-Assad rue the day when he sided with Iran and damaged Iraq's economy severely by closing its pipeline through Syria. And finally, the Arab world, though admiring Assad's deft footwork, nevertheless harbors general resentment against his forceful moves against the PLO.
Thus, Assad has so many enemies that it may not take more than one serious misstep to bring him face to face with great difficulties. And, if Egypt decided to move in favor of a more active and assertive policy such as that suggested above, Assad's predominance could not long be maintained.
In the meantime-which may be quite long-barring his sudden demise, Assad has become the strong man of the Middle East. The more the United States opposes him, the stronger he becomes, albeit at the price of moving ever closer to his great protector, the Soviet Union. He has no serious rivals-at the moment.
What will Assad do with his triumph once he feels firmly in the saddle? He has fought his way to the top largely by negative means, by blocking or destroying rivals, by derailing agreements that did not include him or that gave him a lesser place than he felt entitled to, and above all by incredible tenacity against severe odds and strong enemies.
Negative acts are not sufficient to give Assad the position of supreme leader, the "Arab hero" role that Abdul Nasser and Anwar Sadat sought in vain. For that, a great positive act will be necessary. That would obviously be to tackle successfully the Arab-Israeli problem. Assad will not be in a great hurry to approach that goal. His style has been gradual, methodical, detailed preparation by intricate maneuvers combining daring action with a desire to take minimal risks. What remains to be seen is whether, in the event he lasts long enough, he will try to deal with that supreme problem by taking the road of war or of diplomacy. There are grave risks involved in both.
The Arabs have been defeated by Israel many times. It lies in the Arab nature, in the tradition of constant warfare among tribes, to recover fairly quickly and easily from defeat. But humiliation is another matter. And it has long been the strategy of Israel not only to defeat but also to humiliate the Arabs, to instill in them the conviction that Israel is invincible and that resistance is hopeless. Israel has now suffered considerably in Lebanon. Although there can be no question that its armed forces have prevailed, other factors underline the limits of its expansion. Yet the sense of deep humiliation remains in the Arab world because it was not the Arabs who defeated Israel; Israel overreached itself.
Therefore the road to war and revenge remains inviting to Syria. But there are serious problems on that path. Syria's reequipment by the Soviet Union will take several years to be fully effective. It is doubtful that Israel, even in its present introspective mood, would stand idly by to see that completed. There would be considerable support for taking action in an otherwise divided Israel. But as control over Syria's new sophisticated air defense system lies, and will remain, in Soviet hands, Syria would not only have to accept a virtual alliance with the Soviet Union to fight Israel successfully, but would also have to be willing to face the danger of superpower confrontation. To take that road, even if Israel waited, Assad would have to throw himself completely into Russia's arms, without being quite certain that the Soviets, who both use and distrust him, are actually willing to risk a conflict with the United States. To be sure, in recent times the Soviet Union has become more assertive and seems less inclined to shrink back from such confrontation, but Assad cannot be sure that the Soviet Union would continue to support him at such a moment; nor could he be certain that, if it did, he would survive or retain much freedom of action.
In view of these very large and dangerous questions, one should not exclude the possibility that Hafez Assad, if he remains in power and still on top of the mountain, may choose the political way. And why not? Even Abdul Nasser gave it a brief and secret try in 1955 through intermediaries with Israel's Ben-Gurion.9 Sadat tried it more directly, but only with partial success.
There is, however, one significant difference. Even if Assad eventually takes the road of diplomacy, Soviet support will remain essential for him to play his role fully because his own power base is too narrow to deal alone with American diplomacy. He would not have the freedom the much larger and more powerful Egypt had to discard Soviet help but would have to move in step with the Russians, retaining them as an indispensable part of his strategy in peace or war. That means that even if Assad chooses the road to peace by diplomatic means, he could not pick the form of the Camp David agreement or of the "Jordanian formula" but would have to give preference to the earlier concept of the Geneva Conference, in which the Soviet Union and the United States figured as co-chairmen.
Until Assad makes up his mind and feels strong enough to move, he will constantly shift tactically between policies of force and of diplomacy, keeping both friends and opponents off balance. He is a master of such tactics.
Although there is little indication that the American government, in its present mood, would feel favorably inclined toward a Geneva strategy, this cannot be excluded for all time. After all, the Geneva strategy experienced a short life span under the Nixon and Carter Administrations and could conceivably do so again within the context of a future, more relaxed atmosphere between the United States and the Soviet Union.
VI
In the meantime, U.S. diplomacy has little choice but to face up to the vastly changed situation in the Middle East. Provided Assad remains in power for a prolonged period, both Syria and the United States should have an interest in gradually improved relations in order to give the Syrians an option other than total and exclusive dependence upon the Soviet Union. This might worry Israel but might not be totally unacceptable provided American diplomacy proceeds with care, skill and balance. The possibility of such diplomacy would also be enhanced if the U. S. government could find its way out of its present seemingly exclusive preoccupation with Lebanon and return to a broader peace initiative along the lines of the Reagan plan. Only then, in order not to exclude Syria, would a purely "Jordanian solution" seem quite difficult and the Reagan plan need some amendment.
There are so many imponderables in this situation that an exact course for the future in the Middle East cannot be charted at this time. One thing is certain: the situation in that troubled region has fundamentally changed and all parties have to reexamine it.
Peace in the Middle East remains a vital and necessary concern for America, the entire West, and for Japan, which depend so much on that region's strategic importance and resources. America's goodwill to approach that goal has been strong, but its skill and ability to play a constructive role has not been much in evidence. The policy outlined in President Reagan's speech of September 1, 1982, which he has since reaffirmed, cannot possibly succeed without a strategy that bears priorities and realities firmly in mind. Among those realities are the continued central importance of the Palestinian problem and the need for successive American administrations to view Middle Eastern problems in a regional rather than a predominantly East-West context-without ignoring the fact that an East-West element does exist and has recently become stronger.
In this respect another important change in the Middle East should be noted. Gradually but relentlessly dawning on Israel's volatile public is the fact that the permanent presence of a large Arab population will bring insoluble problems and is bound to burden severely Israel's vital relations with the United States.10 Because of this realization the political groups in Israel that are willing to accept the return of much of the occupied West Bank to Arab control (if Israel's security can be safeguarded) are bound to grow. Moreover, Israel's economic crisis is beginning to worry its impoverished Sephardic element lest continued costly settlements on the West Bank endanger social benefits. The awareness of those trends has caused the opposition Labor alliance to make territorial revision a major item of its election platform. This significant difference would become particularly sharp if elections were to take place in Israel ahead of time in 1984.
At the same time the battered Palestinians, in the Diaspora and especially on the West Bank, have to face up to the question of whether "armed struggle" has not become an impossible, romantic dream11 and whether diplomatic moves are not the only steps left if they are ever to gain any kind of self-determination, even if that produces a split in PLO ranks. Bitterness at Arab inaction in their hour of mortal peril and fear of total emasculation through Syrian control have brought growing, though not yet dominant, realism into Palestinian ranks.
This surely is a situation that could favor new initiatives toward a Middle East peace.
If Syria were to perceive the existence of such a trend, what would its attitude be? Oppose it, in all likelihood. But even such opposition need not be irrevocable if Assad chooses the road of peace as his crowning achievement, rather than of war.
Even if Syria's opposition were irreducible, a peace diplomacy could find allies, especially in Egypt, that would tend to balance the Syrian-Soviet alliance.
America's success in dealing with these awesomely complex issues of the Middle East will depend to a large degree on its ability to retain a sense of proportion in all its relations with Middle Eastern and superpower parties and, while doing so, to master the traditional Middle Eastern game of opposing and cooperating at the same time.
1 "Israel's Strategic Problems in the 80s," address by Defense Minister Ariel Sharon, prepared for delivery at a conference of the Institute of Strategic Studies, Tel Aviv University, December 14, 1981, and published as a press bulletin dated Jerusalem, December 15, 1981.
2 Conclusions drawn by the author from an extended conversation with King Hussein in Amman, January 31, 1983, and from subsequent meetings with informed Israelis.
3 An act that "drew praise from the United States, sharp criticism from the Soviet Union and a telling silence from Israel," David Ignatius, "How to Rebuild Lebanon," Foreign Affairs, Summer 1983, p. 1196.
6 Dan Kurtzman, Ben-Gurion, Prophet of Fire, New York: Simon & Schuster, 1983, p. 321.
7 Jonathan C. Randal, Going All the Way: Christian War Lords, Israeli Adventures and the War in Lebanon, New York: Viking Press, 1983, p. 10.
8 Eric Rouleau, loc.cit.
9 Elmore Jackson, Middle East Mission: The Story of a Major Bid for Peace in the Time of Nasser and Ben-Gurion, New York: W. W. Norton, 1983.
11 Eric Rouleau, loc. cit., and Aaron David Miller, The PLO and the Politics of Survival, Washington Paper Number 99, Washington: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 1983.
?? | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 9 | https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q118725 | en | Hafez al-Assad | [
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/ba/Hafez_al_Assad_portrait.jpg/220px-Hafez_al_Assad_portrait.jpg",
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/e6/Signature_of_Hafez_al-Assad.svg/220px-Signature_of_Hafez_al-Assad.svg.png",
"https://maps.wikimedia.org/img/osm-intl,13,35.4595,36... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | 18th President of Syria | en | /static/apple-touch/wikidata.png | https://www.wikidata.org/wiki/Q118725 | 18th President of Syria
edit
Language Label Description Also known as English
Hafez al-Assad
18th President of Syria
Statements
Identifiers | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 75 | https://fivebooks.com/best-books/syria-nikolaos-van-dam/ | en | The best books on Syria | [
"https://fivebooks.com/app/themes/five-books/assets/images/logo-floating-nav-no-text.png",
"https://fivebooks.com/app/themes/five-books/assets/images/logo-floating-nav.png",
"https://fivebooks.com/images/_qukLbVCIdRVrL6J/rs:fit:66:0:1/sh:0.5/plain/fb/2011/05/1848857608.01.LZ_.jpg",
"https://fivebooks.com/imag... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Patrick Seale",
"Hanna Batatu",
"General Mustafa Talas",
"Hanna Mina",
"Brigid Keenan",
"Five Books"
] | 2011-05-18T06:09:30+00:00 | The veteran Dutch diplomat, Nikolaos van Dam, explains why meaningful political change in Syria will be difficult to achieve – and warns that any move towards democracy is likely to be accompanied by severe sectarian tension. | en | /favicon.ico | Five Books | https://fivebooks.com/best-books/syria-nikolaos-van-dam/ | As we speak in 2011, what is your view of the situation now? Is the Syrian president, Bashar al-Assad, going to be able to stay in power?*
This is very difficult to predict and anything can happen. But he won’t be toppled just because of the demonstrations. If he is going to be toppled it will come from within the armed forces. But just like his father [Hafez al-Assad], he has been clever, putting trusted people in strategic places. And the troops that are taking harsh action against the demonstrators are not just military conscripts, they are his most reliable forces.
The regime has been very stable for decades because it is dominated by [Shia Muslim] Alawites, and Alawite officers are in key positions. They trust one another, they come from the same region, sometimes the same villages. It’s not so much about religion (in fact it isn’t that important) but more about the social relationships and trust. At the same time, this Alawite factor is also a weakness of the regime. It’s very difficult to transform an Alawi-dominated regime into a democracy. On the road from this dictatorship to democracy, there are many possibilities for enormous violence and for bloody conflict. In a way, it’s a miracle that the demonstrators have been able, in general, to be peaceful. I think this could be the key to their success – if they can maintain that. If you are peaceful, there is no need for the regime to shoot, to put down the demonstrations with violence.
“Assad won’t be toppled just because of the demonstrations in Syria. If he is going to be toppled, it will come from the armed forces.”
But, hypothetically speaking, if the regime were to relinquish its privileged position and move towards a more democratic system, it’s likely that the majority community, the Sunnis, would not be very forgiving or very tolerant towards these Alawis. I would expect there to be a bloody confrontation, and a strong probability of sectarian polarisation between the Alawite community and the Sunnis even though a dictatorship generally applies to the whole population. Like in Iraq – Saddam Hussein was a dictator who relied to a great extent on people from his own town, Tikrit. That didn’t mean that many people there weren’t also suffering from his dictatorship. In the same way, many, many people from the Alawite community are suffering from this dictatorship. Sometimes even more, because potentially they are more dangerous to the regime because they can operate from within.
[*Editor’s note: This interview was conducted on May 11th, 2011 — two months after anti-government uprisings had started in Syria but before it was clear these would escalate into civil war]
How small a minority are the Alawites?
About 11%, so really a minority. There are all kinds of historical reasons why they are so heavily represented.
Am I right to get the sense that you’re not really rooting for the demonstrations to succeed – because you’re worried about what will happen if they do?
It would be nice if the demonstrators could peacefully bring about a more democratic Syria. But I don’t expect the regime to voluntarily give up, because they know they will be court-martialed and some might even be executed. They have also had time to see what happened to others, like President Mubarak. When he resigned, I don’t think that many people would have imagined that within two months he would be in prison or brought before a court. The president of Yemen is still in power, but he faces the same practical issue. If the people in power could get a guarantee that they would be safe… but they won’t get that guarantee, and if I were in their place I would not trust any guarantees anyway, because if other military forces take over, they will simply put them in prison and it will be a day of reckoning. It’s always gone that way.
So your most likely scenario is that Assad will stay in power and make the reforms he was expected to make at the start, when the death of his older brother led him to leave his job as an ophthalmologist in the UK and take over from his father as Syria’s president?
Yes. It would have been better if he had done it earlier, but the dilemma is, as we say in Dutch, if you give one finger someone wants the whole hand. He saw that with the Kurds, when he finally gave them their Syrian nationality. They should have had it all along – but when he gave it to them, they immediately wanted more.
Assad faces a big challenge to survive, and he will have to make reforms. As a dictator, he does have the power to suppress these protest movements – in a peaceful manner and not just by shooting, which has already been fully shown to be counter-productive. It’s also important for him to have a dialogue with people from the opposition. He’s been rather late with that – it hasn’t really happened yet. He’s also been rather ill-advised by his entourage. These are people who over the decades have got used to a certain kind of behaviour – dictatorship, violence, intimidation and so on – and it’s not as if by pressing a button, the president can make them all behave themselves. But he cannot stay in power forever. One day he will have to get rid of the Alawite character of the regime, and that won’t happen peacefully I’m afraid.
Your first book is Patrick Seale’s, Asad: The Struggle for the Middle East. This is a biography of Hafez al-Assad, but quite a flattering one?
That’s what people say, but I don’t think it’s correct. Patrick Seale was my great inspiration for studying Syria. I started with one of his earlier books, which I used at university, both when I was studying and when I was teaching. He is one of the few people who can write in such a way that it is both high quality in terms of content and also attracts a lot of readers. He’s both a very high calibre academic and a high calibre journalist. You can read this book from page one to the end, not only as an academic book but also as a thriller. The book is part of a trilogy which also includes The Struggle for Arab Independence and The Struggle for Syria. Seale has this way of interweaving personal things with the wider context of history. So the book alternates. It’s not just a theoretical history, but also highly personal about the [former] president. Patrick Seale is I think the only writer, or one of very few writers, who had personal access to Hafez al-Assad. When the book was just published, I saw the criticism that he was a little bit biased – but I didn’t see that at all in the book. Having spoken with the president on various occasions just means he had better information, it doesn’t mean he was less critical. Usually it’s called Assad’s biography, but it interweaves the wider historical context. It’s a history textbook on quite an important episode of Syrian political history, in which Hafez al-Assad was president, and also the time before he became president.
If you don’t know much about Syria, what interesting things come out of the book?
It looks at things that happened in very critical periods, for example during the October [Arab-Israeli] War in 1973 and how the views of [former] President Assad conflicted with those of [the then Egyptian president] Anwar Sadat. Sadat made a separate peace treaty – and the word separate is very important – with Israel. President Assad’s line was that only by having a united front towards Israel would there be a solution. Patrick Seale, also in a more recent article, referred to the disaster of Camp David. And we’ve seen that. There has been peace between Egypt and Israel, but it didn’t lead to any other real peace, even though it was in 1979, already more than 30 years ago.
One of the Amazon.com reviews said the book “really changes my perspective about historical events”. I do think it’s fascinating to see these historic moments, like Camp David, from a Syrian perspective.
Exactly. This is what you see in all of Seale’s books. There are a lot of eye-openers in them. On several occasions, in his latest book [The Struggle for Arab Independence], I came across things which were a real surprise. It’s not at all a dull history but a real eye-opener, not only for people who know very little but also for people who have dealt with the Middle East, including Syria, for a long time.
Before this interview, you mentioned that Seale talks about Greater Syria or Bilad al-Sham. Does that notion have an impact on the way people think in Syria today?
It’s less the case than it was, but it is a framework that exists in people’s minds. The area was divided up by the French and the British, who created artificial boundaries and artificial units. Under the Ottomans in that area, there were no boundaries. People could cross easily from Damascus to Haifa, or to Beirut, or they could go from Aleppo to what now is southern Turkey. There were no such borders, and the communication between Aleppo in northern Syria and Mosul in northern Iraq was, for instance, more intense than between Aleppo and Damascus.
And these people still have a lot in common – their Arabic is very similar. With Lebanon and Jordan, there are borders now, and the military may wear different uniforms. But the people are very close to each other.
So when we think Syria is interfering in other countries – Lebanon in particular – they probably don’t see it that way?
They don’t see it that way. Lebanon is also a very specific case. These two countries are very much bound together through history, and the Maronite Christians in Lebanon play a role in this. Patrick Seale calls Syria a truncated body. It used to be much bigger, but its limbs have been cut off – Lebanon and the former Palestine, Jordan or even southern Turkey. It has a new shape. That’s also the reason why there was no strong Syrian identity, in the sense of an identity linked to the territory of today’s Syria. It was either a broader Arab identity, or much smaller than Syria – a provincial or tribal identity.
Your next book is Syria’s Peasantry, the Descendants of Its Lesser Rural Notables, and Their Politics, by Hanna Batatu. How does this fit into your picture of Syria?
This is the next best book, after Seale’s, which is why I’ve put it at number two. It gives you a very rich multi-dimensional picture of what Syria really is. The peasantry and the descendants of lesser rural notables are the people who are now in power. Both the former president and the present president are descendants of peasants, people from the countryside. The book gives a very varied picture. Not all peasants are the same – you have peasants with land, without land, belonging to a certain clan or tribe, living in the lowlands or in the highlands. But they are very much represented in the regime and that’s why Hanna Batatu wrote this study. I should mention that he also wrote what I consider to be the best book on Iraq. His Syria book is shorter, it is about a third of the size of the one on Iraq, but it is almost like an encyclopaedia of the complexities of Syria, of the countryside, of people within the Ba’ath Party, the background of the Alawite officers et cetera.
But it’s not just about the Alawites?
No, it’s much wider, it’s about all the peasantry, and about the whole of Syria. It’s about certain politicians, like Akram al-Hawrani, who was the first to bring in the poorer people, the lower middle class from the countryside, into politics and recruited people for the military who happened to have that background. It’s a tougher book than Seale’s, but for people who are really interested in Syria it’s a highly interesting book. It hasn’t been given the place among Syria books which I think it deserves.
Is the author Syrian?
He was a Palestinian from Jerusalem. He died in 2000. He proudly showed me, at the time, in Beirut, his manuscript of the book on Iraq, which was published later. This sequel book about Syria, is really for the fine tasters. It’s not just about the Ba’athist period, after 1963, but also a long time before – he gives a deep perspective on the time of the French Mandate, and of the Ottoman Empire. Also if you want to get to know something about the earlier history of Syria, it’s a very good book to read.
As your third choice you’ve chosen a memoir that is only available in Arabic, but that you discuss at length in your own book. By the way, I saw in the Robert Fisk article about your book that not only is it a must-read on Syria for us foreigners, but that all members of the Ba’ath party have been urged to read it. Do you take that as a compliment?
Yes I do, because generally the subject of sectarianism/tribalism/regionalism is a taboo subject in Syria. People in general, and the regime certainly, react very negatively to any talk about it, saying that it’s untrue, that it’s all polemic. They banned my book, but when the Arabic version was published in Cairo they brought big quantities with them from Cairo to Damascus and copied them. I see it as a compliment, because as Fisk says, it’s a highly critical book. The fact that they – and their opponents – took it seriously is a good thing. If you were to officially ask them they would not admit that, of course. My book has, by the way, also been used as obligatory literature in universities all over the world.
So the book you’ve chosen is by Mustafa Talas, who was minister of defence for over 30 years, and it’s called The Mirror of My Life. This is to really show the inner workings of the Syrian regime and Ba’athist party, is that right?
Yes, in the greatest detail. In fact, it’s almost 5,000 pages, in five volumes, and we’re still waiting for the sixth. But you’ll never find another book which is such an insider’s account of all the things that have happened in Syria under Ba’athist rule. There is one thing that he doesn’t deal with in his book – the massacre of Hama in 1982, probably because it was too painful to write about it – but he deals with almost all the other important happenings and he’s quite honest about all kinds of other developments. You would never find that anywhere else. He also writes very well. It’s not dull, he describes quite a few amusing things and it varies from the very serious to sometimes the trivial, even. But for those who really want to study the inner workings of the regime, this is an unmissable book, together with Muhammed Ibrahim al-’Ali’s My Life and Execution. The “execution” is because he was supposed to be executed on 9 March 1963, and so the coup of the Ba’athist officers was brought forward a day so they could rescue him. He is still at the top of the regime, having been a member of the Ba’ath Party Central Committee for more than 25 years.
What story most impressed you?
What I found really interesting is a story in 1984, when the brother of Hafez al-Assad, Rifaat al-Assad, wanted to take over power. He wanted to use his reliable defence platoons, where he had some 3,000 Alawites of the Murshidiyin sect in key positions. But according to both Talas and Muhammed Ibrahim al-’Ali, Hafez al-Assad persuaded them to refuse any orders from Rifaat al-Assad, and from one moment to the next, the brother of the Syrian president was left toothless. The Murshidiyin military left their units, as a result of which Rifaat’s tanks and other armoured vehicles could not move into action. This was an inside story that I didn’t come across in any other books. It shows that sectarianism, or relying on certain groups within, in this case, the armed forces, can give you strength, but at the same time if all those people join you, they may also be induced to leave you.
Moving on from politics, your next book is Fragments of Memory, which is an autobiographical novel by the Syrian author Hanna Mina.
Yes, I wanted to choose a varied range of books so my last two are a bit different. This is a novel I happened to read which fascinated me. I didn’t know, before I read it, that Hanna Mina was one of the most well-known Syrian authors, so I was not coloured by the idea that it had to be a really good book – I was authentically really fascinated by it.
Mina is describing his youth, in circumstances of poverty which I hardly imagined could exist. He was living in the area of the former Syrian territory of Iskenderun, in what today is part of southern Turkey, and his father worked day-to-day but was not very fortunate. I think he had two left hands, and almost never came home with money. For a long time, the family lived under a fig tree on a very dusty roadside. That’s where they had to stay all day, under a tree in the harsh sun. His mother worked in the countryside. The farmers raised silkworms, which the landlords would give to them. They would be very careful with them, because they were very, very expensive. Then, at the end of the season, they would give the landlords the end-product. When the silkworm industry collapsed because of modern technology, the farmers’ lives were deeply affected. These people were so poor that often they had to borrow money from the landlords, indebting themselves further and further. They were almost like slaves. This miserable picture of Hanna Mina’s mother and children under a tree really stuck with me. You can put a cloth on top of the fig tree to protect yourself from the sun, but you have to move it all the time as the sun moves. They had so little to eat that his mother instructed him that he should not eat before the shade reached a certain point. They had to divide what little food they had, if they had any at all. He describes the whole story of how this family is embedded in the countryside, working for the landlord, and all kinds of intricacies, including hospitality. But it was the bare necessities and the harshness of life that really struck me.
When was this? How old is he now?
He was born in 1924 in Latakia, and died in 2018 at the age of 94. The story starts when he was about eight years old, so in the early 1930s. Later on, one of his sisters complained that by writing all these personal things he had exposed them. They found it very shameful to be known to have been in such difficult circumstances. So this is a book from the early 20th century, but it’s fascinating. It’s an eye-opener, and he writes very well. It’s hardly imaginable that you could live under such circumstances.
So this kind of abject poverty is still in living memory for many Syrians?
I think most people were a little better off. But now things have changed. The position of the farmers – and you can read about this in the Batatu book [on the peasantry] – has improved substantially. That doesn’t mean that there aren’t still many poor people, but they are not being exploited by landlords. Some of them of course exploit their own people, just like elsewhere in the world. But it is less extreme. People are better off. But the kind of poverty this book describes is good to know about, not only as a story but as a reality.
The next book you’ve chosen is Damascus: Hidden Treasures of the Old City. The author, Brigid Keenan, is a diplomat’s wife and she fell in love with the city?
That’s right. Because if you walk around it – as I have done very frequently – there are very beautiful monuments. But if you go down the side streets, they are rather grey and you don’t have the faintest idea that behind those blind walls you can find the most beautiful houses. She, in a way, contributed to making that more public. Of course the traditional Syrians were aware of these houses, but many of them had deteriorated. What is new now in Damascus, and also in Aleppo in northern Syria, is that many of these old houses have been renovated and restored, and sometimes also changed into hotels. When you stay there it gives you an idea of living in that atmosphere, which is very nice. You go through a very dusty street, not even the door is at all luxurious, and then all of a sudden you enter into a kind of oasis of beautiful decoration, mosaics, stonework and so on. So she and the photographer, Tim Beddow, opened this world up to the public. It’s a general book, but it has good descriptions of these houses and the families who owned them.
Would you say Syria is a lovely place to visit on holiday?
Oh yes! I think many people would be amazed. In Damascus you have many historic places, the wonderful souqs or traditional markets. The same is true in Aleppo. Aleppo has the most beautiful traditional markets, 12 kilometres at least of covered streets where you find all kinds of small shops. I find it fascinating walking through these streets, soaking up the local atmosphere and smelling the rich aroma of oriental spices. Then you have the older cities like Palmyra or Afamia and the crusader castles. I think many people wouldn’t have the faintest idea of what kind of beautiful things Syria has to offer. This book about Damascus lifts the tip of the veil of the many, many beauties that Syria has.
That’s the metaphor she uses, isn’t it, that Damascus is like a beautiful woman behind a veil?
That’s right. You just wouldn’t know. Also in Aleppo, I spent a lot of time there, but it was only later on that I discovered a certain quarter, the mainly Christian quarter of al-Jdeida, where you have beautiful traditional houses and alleys. There is also the central citadel. Syria has a lot to offer, but it is not always visible to the outsider. This probably also has an effect in the political sphere. Sometimes if people like a country culturally, they are more inclined to be positive. I know Syria very well, but many people have preconceived ideas about it. Also, if you really want to know about Syria you have to spend time there. You can get to know a country through books, and that’s very important. But if you have the luxury or the possibility of combining that with a personal visit, that’s even better.
What do you think of the sanctions that have been – or are being – imposed on Syria by the US and the EU?
In my opinion they are not going to help at all. What is usually missing in these cases is the dialogue. Because if you only impose sanctions, and you don’t talk or communicate with the Syrian government or the Syrian president, nothing positive will come out of it. I have seen it in many other cases – in Iraq, in Iran and other countries. The US also waited a long time to appoint an ambassador to Damascus, almost as if it were a privilege for the Syrians to have an American ambassador. As a result, he doesn’t have good access. If your government is talking only about sanctions, and telling the Syrians what to do, you’re not going to get very far. If you want to influence the president, you have to talk to him. If he only sees his foreign bank reserves have been frozen and that he cannot go to Marbella in Spain for a holiday, that’s not going to persuade him or his subordinates to act differently. You can impose sanctions, but if you don’t communicate at the same time you can be sure that you’re not going to contribute to a solution. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 83 | https://afsa.org/diplomacy-can-save-day | en | Diplomacy Can Save the Day | [
"https://afsa.org/sites/all/themes/afsa/images/afsa-logo-white.svg",
"https://afsa.org/sites/default/files/fsj2019may_13_author01.jpg",
"https://afsa.org/sites/default/files/fsj_logo.jpg",
"https://afsa.org/sites/default/files/mcgrath-remax-0519.jpg",
"https://afsa.org/sites/all/themes/afsa/images/afsa-logo... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | I have been prompted to reflect on my own experiences in Lebanon as I follow the Trump administration’s foreign policy in the Middle East—and, in particular, the anticipated rollout of an Israeli-Palestinian peace proposal that is almost certain to be rejected by the Palestinians and their Hezbollah and Iranian allies. | en | //afsa.org/sites/default/files/favicon.ico | //afsa.org/diplomacy-can-save-day | Reflections
BY GEORGE B. LAMBRAKIS
I have been prompted to reflect on my own experiences in Lebanon as I follow the Trump administration’s foreign policy in the Middle East—and, in particular, the anticipated rollout of an Israeli- Palestinian peace proposal that is almost certain to be rejected by the Palestinians and their Hezbollah and Iranian allies.
In Lebanon, that crucible of ethnic, religious, sectarian and political complexities where the conflicting interests of Iran, Syria, Israel and Saudi Arabia may soon collide, the past interaction of American military ventures and diplomacy offers a useful cautionary tale.
I arrived in Beirut as deputy chief of mission (DCM) to Ambassador G. McMurtrie “Mac” Godley in September 1975, just as the second Lebanese civil war had begun. (It would last—with occasional interruptions—until 1990.) My wife and two daughters were soon evacuated as part of the general thinning down of nonessential embassy personnel from what had been a large regional center for various U.S. agencies operating in the Middle East.
The conflict had been triggered when a busload of Palestinian refugees driving through a Maronite (Christian) village in the north was attacked, and two dozen of them were killed. The Palestine Liberation Organization fighters allied themselves to the Sunni Muslim militias led at that time by Kamal Jumblatt, whose Druze followers hoped to modify the terms of the 1943 unwritten power-sharing agreement between Maronites and Sunnis that left the Druze out. In this battle the Greek Orthodox and Shia remained neutral.
Sadly, Amb. Godley had to depart Beirut in November 1975 for cancer treatment, and Special Emissary Dean Brown’s effort to mediate an end to the fighting failed. I had been serving as chargé d’affaires for six months by May 1976, when veteran diplomat Francis Meloy arrived as the new U.S. ambassador.
The war was at a stalemate because Syria’s President Hafez al-Assad had surprisingly intervened to prevent a Maronite defeat. Quietly welcomed by Secretary of State Kissinger, Assad’s intervention was limited by strong warnings from Israel.
On June 16, Meloy set out to present his credentials to the new Lebanese president, Elias Sarkis. Dayton Mak, a retired former Beirut DCM had agreed to replace me as Meloy’s deputy, but he could not reach Beirut because the airport was closed by Palestinians. So Meloy, accompanied by Robert Waring, our economic counselor, who knew the former central bank head Sarkis well, set out from Muslim West Beirut to Sarkis’ office in Maronite East Beirut.
Their driver, Zuhair Moghrabi, suddenly ordered the embassy’s security “follow” car to turn back just before crossing the “green line” into Maronite territory.
All three men in the ambassador’s car were kidnapped and their dead bodies dropped in front of the unfinished U.S. embassy in West Beirut the same day.
A British convoy evacuated Meloy and Waring’s bodies overland to Syria and back to Washington, D.C., for a solemn memorial service, while I resumed charge of the embassy and presided over a service for all three men.
The kidnappers were never identified (though I have my own theory), and Secretary Kissinger ordered another evacuation of nonessential personnel and American citizens who wished to leave. Because of a promise he had made to Israel, Kissinger was unable to directly contact the Palestinians, who by then controlled most of Beirut, so he mobilized the Egyptians, Saudis and French to convey his threat of serious consequences if the Palestinians did not let his people go.
The problem was how to go. The Beirut airport remained closed, and overland travel to Syria or even East Beirut was dangerous. As we and Washington discussed options, the U.S. Navy proposed a Marine landing. I couldn’t help remembering an earlier civil war I had had the opportunity to study intensively at Tufts’ Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy in mid-career—the 1958 Lebanon crisis.
In July 1958, under President Dwight Eisenhower’s anticommunist Near East doctrine, 5,000 U.S. Marines had landed on Beirut’s beaches—only to be met by sunbathers in bikinis. In fact, the Lebanese army had received orders to resist the Marine landing, but U.S. Ambassador Rob McClintock arrived and convinced Maronite General Fuad Chehab to call off his troops.
U.S. Special Emissary Robert Murphy then came and helped work out a diplomatic settlement that led to Chehab being elected Lebanon’s next president. The American troops soon returned home, and civil war was tamed for another 17 years.
The British chargé d’affaires stormed into my office. “What are you doing? We know what you’re doing!” he shouted.
Now in 1976, with Secretary Kissinger pushing the evacuation of Americans, I was surprised one afternoon when the British chargé d’affaires stormed into my office. “What are you doing? We know what you’re doing!” he shouted.
After he calmed down he told me that the U.S. Navy with Marines was mobilizing to invade Beirut, very much as in 1958. The British were horrified.
I immediately fired off a “flash” telegram to Washington, which brought Near Eastern Affairs Assistant Secretary “Roy” Atherton to the secure telephone.
“The president [Gerald Ford] is about to make a decision,” he said. “How do you feel about it?”
Thanks a lot for asking, I thought. “I’m against it, and so are the British,” I replied.
He was surprised that London was aware of the plan. “Send me a cable. The president is about to make a decision.”
Fifteen minutes later, as I was consulting my country team, Atherton called again. “Where is your cable? The president is about to make a decision.”
“All of us, including the military attaché (a very senior colonel), are against a Marine landing. It will create all sorts of new problems,” I said, and sent a second “flash” cable to that effect.
Happily, President Ford decided against a Marine landing. Instead, he stayed up that night, despite the time difference, while the Navy landed unarmed troop carriers on the morning of June 20, 1976. The ships peacefully evacuated more than 500 Americans and other foreign nationals from Beirut over the next month.
I was informed by a Greek Orthodox contact and the Egyptian and French embassies that the Navy evacuation was protected by armed Palestinians and Jumblattists. The fact that I had come to Lebanon after three years as the NEA man in London’s political section, where I had enjoyed confidential access to all relevant Foreign Office officials, made it easy for the Brits to come to me to protest Washington’s plans.
Thus, diplomacy prevented another American military intervention that was bound eventually to draw American Marines into action against Palestinians, Jumblatt’s Muslim/Druze and perhaps even the Syrians.
The much better known landing of American Marines (with French and Italian troops) in Lebanon six years later, in 1982, is the exception that proves the rule.
Following the breakdown of a United Nations cease-fire the United States had helped broker and the subsequent invasion of Lebanon by Israel, Washington deployed U.S. Multinational Force Lebanon to oversee the safe departure of PLO fighters from Beirut, to support the Lebanese government following the massacre of civilian Palestinian refugees by Maronite militia and to assist with the Israeli withdrawal.
American troops were still there in 1983, when their base was attacked, and they riposted. Soon the American and French barracks were blown up by truck bombs, killing 241 American military personnel. This followed a similar attack on the American embassy, killing a number of Americans and Lebanese. Those attacks were attributed to Hezbollah, a pro-Iranian Shia militia that had become a serious player, supported by Syria, in the shifting Lebanese scene.
President Ronald Reagan compromised by ordering the military back to U.S. Navy vessels off the Lebanese coast. By 1984 the Americans quietly sailed home.
These experiences sound a warning about the perils of ditching diplomacy and opening new fronts for the American military to explore. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 39 | https://www.e-ir.info/2022/07/12/improvise-adapt-overcome-a-leadership-trait-analysis-of-bashar-al-assad/ | en | Improvise, Adapt, Overcome: A Leadership Trait Analysis of Bashar Al-Assad | [
"https://www.e-ir.info/wp-content/uploads/fly-images/98363/human-g439b0e256_1920-e1657262338871-807x455-c.jpg",
"https://www.e-ir.info/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/image_2022-07-08_092738347.png",
"https://www.e-ir.info/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/image_2022-07-08_092911984.png",
"https://www.e-ir.info/wp-conten... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Joshua Lehmann"
] | 2022-07-12T00:00:00 | An analysis of international interviews shows Bashar Al-Assad as a perseverant, adaptive and flexible leader, who takes into account perspectives of others. | en | http://www.e-ir.info/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/favicon.png | E-International Relations | https://www.e-ir.info/2022/07/12/improvise-adapt-overcome-a-leadership-trait-analysis-of-bashar-al-assad/ | More than a decade after the first sprouts of the Arab Spring started to blossom in December 2010, much has changed in the Arab world. Enduring the rise and fall of ISIS, witnessing insurgency and civil war in Iraq, Yemen, and Libya, experiencing a crisis, coup, and unrest in Egypt, as well as bearing the ongoing conflict in Syria has shaped and worn out societies from the Maghreb to the Mashriq as it has shaped many urban centres all over the region: a crumbling, devastated environment, often on the verge of deterioration. When Western media outlets review the events of the Arab Spring today, they often illustrate the political and societal changes during that time by recapitulating the personal fates of various leaders that lost their office during this episode (see Al-Jazeera, 2017; Holmes, 2020). But while Gaddafi’s death or Ben Ali’s ousting serve as apt examples for political groups, leaders, and movements that were swept away during the initial uprisings or throughout the following events, even after a decade of conflict and more than 600.000 deaths, reign over Syria remains firmly in the hands of Bashar Al-Assad.
By analysing Assad’s leadership style through a quantitative analysis of various personality traits, this paper endeavours to produce insights into the capabilities, behaviour, and character features that allow a leader to preserve power even under the most adverse conditions. After briefly reviewing the state and development of the existing literature and narratives in the field, we will elaborate on the methodology employed for this paper. Afterwards, a thorough analysis is conducted and the quantitative results are critically assessed, discussed, and compared to evaluations of Assad by other authors. Finally, we conclude that Assad, depending on the context, can be categorised as having either a reactive or accommodative leadership style — evaluating his possibilities in a given situation and considering what important actors will favour or allow, he focuses on building consensus in his environment, empowering others, sharing accountability, and reconciling differences between groups or people that he relies on.
Literature Review
Shortly after the revolt in Syria commenced and violent clashes occurred all over the country, Western scholars already started to propose plans and scenarios for a “post-Assad Syria” (Serwer, 2012; see also Dalton, 2012). When the conflict’s trajectory started to stagnate, discourse in media and academic circles still revolved around regime change, a possible invasion, and international support for the opposition (cf. Donker & Janssen, 2011; Fontaine, 2013; Herr et al., 2019; for a comprehensive overview of the conflict see Bawey, 2016, van Dam, 2017, Helberg, 2018, and Phillips, 2020; for early assessments see Armbruster, 2013, Schneiders, 2013, and Jenkins, 2014). By the end of 2021, however, the headlines and proposals about Syria have changed. Among many Western voices, resignation can be widely observed – some even speak of a geopolitical “[d]efeat for the US [and a] win for its foes” (O’Connor, 2021; see also Hubbard, 2021). But contrary to Arab nations “that have concluded he won the brutal civil war” (Al Arabiya, 2021), the U.S. declines to normalise its relationship with Assad and some scholars even demand a renewed, determined approach to counter and eventually topple the regime (Pamuk, 2021; Lister, 2021).
Identifying why Assad — unlike many of his fellow leaders in the region — remains in power has occupied the thought and work of various scholars already during the hot phase of the conflict. Stacher (2012), as well as Bank & Edel (2015), attributed Assad’s cling to power to his capability for adaptation and change — “regime learning” that alleviates societal pressure, allows for concessions and binds decisive groups to the government. Heydemann & Leenders (2013) as well as Sika (2015) took a comparative approach and compared the case of Syria to Iran and Egypt, respectively. They ascribe Assad’s preservation of power to specific features of “Middle East authoritarianism” (Heydemann & Leenders, 2013) and differences between the two states in their respective state-formation process and constitution of the state-coercive apparatus (Sika, 2015). Sika (2015) further connects the different paths of Egypt and Syria to the varying geostrategic interests towards these states of international actors such as the EU, U.S., and regional powers like Iran and Saudi Arabia.
Already years before the uprising in Syria began, academic work specifically tailored around Bashar Al-Assad has been put forward and now serves as a rich reference for comparison with later assessments. Most notably delivered by Leverett (2005), Zisser (2007), and Bar (2006), these early portrayals still entail the scent of change, reform, and progress promised by Assad during his first years in power. In 2009, Büchs examined the resilience of Bashar and his father Hafez Al-Assad’s rule in Syria, arguing that an effective but unstable “tacit pact” between various unequal factions in the Syrian society upheld the rule of the Al-Assads since 1970 — nonetheless, this pact would not outlast Büchs’ paper for very long. Van Dam (2011) published further work about Assad’s rule during the early developments of the Arab Spring, but since Assad and the civil war still prevail a decade later, these assessments do not hold up today. A 2014 (second edition in 2016) publication by Bawey uses the inextricable link between Assad and the start, development, and tentative outcome of the conflict to illustrate the events in Syria. While Bawey produces a well-written analysis of the conflict, it lacks a certain depth when it comes to determining the decisive personal features that kept Assad in power. The most thorough, comprehensive, and for this paper certainly most relevant in-depth analysis is provided by Cabayan & Wright (2014a, 2014b), who used 124 speeches of the Syrian leader given between 2000 and 2013 to analyse the character and conduct of Assad and propose policy behaviour towards Syria based on these assessments. Among the various methods employed in the study of Cabayan & Wright, Spitaletta (2014), as the authors of this paper, conducted a leadership trait analysis of Assad. Spitaletta’s results, while congruent with many findings of this paper, are based solely on speeches by Assad. As discussed more in-depth later, since they are planned, choreographed acts, speeches do not provide the same degree of authenticity as freely conducted interviews and therefore do not allow for the same level of analytic quality when assessing leadership style. Furthermore, Spitaletta’s analysis does not cover Assad’s behaviour and personal reaction to events and developments after 2013. Thus, this paper provides a much-needed addition to the existing literature.
Methodology
To draw conclusions about Bashar Al-Assad’s leadership style, this paper conducts a leadership trait analysis as developed by Hermann (1985; 2002) and Levine & Young (2014). For the first step of a leadership trait analysis, spoken words from a political leader’s statements, comments, and remarks are analysed according to seven personality traits. To further determine if the personality trait scores of the analysed leader are comparably low, moderate, or high, each score is compared to a databank of 87 heads of state and 122 political leaders. From this assessment, the leader’s responsiveness to constraints, openness to information, and motivation are deducted and, finally, the leadership style is determined (see Hermann, 2002, p. 9).
Although most leaders are being prepared for possible questions and corresponding answers prior to media contact, press interviews can still be considered rather spontaneous because the interviewee gives up control and must respond promptly, without time for further consultation or external aid (Hermann, 2002, p. 2). Therefore, the content and wording of ad-hoc responses allow conclusions to be drawn about what leaders are like, how they perceive themselves and others, and how they react to extrinsic factors (Hermann, 2002). Public speeches, on the other hand, are often written by hired staff, revised and amended by advisors and consultants, as well as studied and rehearsed by the leader beforehand. Hermann (1977), therefore, argues that speeches cannot be considered the outflow of a political leader’s personality and character, but rather a cautiously calculated and controlled political routine (for a thorough comparison between the quality of interviews and speeches see also Hermann, 1980; Winter et al., 1991).
Accordingly, this analysis uses only openly conducted press interviews as its basis. While Hermann (2002) assesses that “50 interview responses of one hundred words or more in length” (p. 2) would be required to properly assess a leadership style, the authors of this analysis have used 225 interview responses of more than fifty words in length, derived from the transcripts of seven interviews with Bashar Al-Assad. The interviews were conducted between 2005 and 2017 and comprise 25.386 words (longest response = 317 words, shortest response = 52 words, average response length = 112 words). After the transcripts were thoroughly combed through, the responses were separated from the questions, converted, and analysed by the Profiler Plus software developed and provided by Young & Levine (2014). In the conducted leadership trait analysis, the frequency of specific words and phrases is considered an indicator of the degree to which a certain trait is inherent in the personality of a leader (Hermann, 2002, p. 11).
Hermann (2002, p. 3) argues that the analysed interview responses should cover various topics, different interview settings, and the leader’s whole term of office, thereby providing a general description and preventing the results from being too narrow and context-specific. The selected interviews cover 12 years and were conducted before, during, and after the Arab Spring. Furthermore, they deal with various topics from the U.S. invasion of Iraq (CNN, 2005), Assad’s personal life (ABC, 2011), the protests during the Arab Spring (ABC, 2011; CBS, 2013) to the ongoing civil war in Syria (ABC, 2011; CBS, 2013; AFP, 2016; AP, 2016; AFP, 2017; Yahoo, 2017). Because all interviews were conducted by Western journalists for Western news and broadcasting companies, this analysis is not able to provide a broad scope of audiences covered by the interview responses and its results must be considered accordingly. It can be assumed that Assad is more calculating, more considerate, and, most importantly, more controlled when speaking to Western media than he would be when speaking with a Syrian, regime-friendly newspaper. Already in 2006, Bar attested to Assad the ability to vary his conduct between Western and domestic audiences. While he attempted to gain sympathy from external actors in his “Dr Bashar” role and “convey the impressions that he is not a dictator” (Bar, 2006, p. 369), Assad portrayed a sharp contrast when being in contact with Syrians as “Mr President”. Nonetheless, because the interviews were conducted openly, question by question, and in some cases also over longer durations, they can be regarded as the richest source of insights into Assad’s thinking that is available to academics outside the Syrian regime structures.
Analysis
According to Hermann (2002, p. 5), leadership style describes how leaders relate to their surroundings, which principles, rules, and norms they adhere to, as well as the way they conduct interactions with other leaders, advisors, elite groups, and their constituents. In the following, we will determine Bashar Al-Assad’s leadership style by assessing how he reacts to constraints, how open he is to incoming information, and what his motives are for seeking office and remaining in power.
Responsiveness to Constraints
To evaluate if he rather challenges or respects constraints, we will first analyse Assad’s belief in his ability to control events as well as his need for power. The belief to be able to control events represents the degree to which leaders perceive that they possess a certain control over the events and situations that surround them and assume to be able to influence such matters (Hermann, 2002, pp. 13-14). When determining leaders’ perception of their ability to control events, it is evaluated how often during an interview the responsibility for planning or executing an action is taken over by the leader or a group they identify with by assessing the frequency of action words and verbs that signal such behaviour (Hermann, 2002, p. 14). With an average of 55 internal control observations and 72 external control observations per interview, Bashar Al-Assad scores an average of 0.43 for the belief in his ability to control events (see Appendix A). Compared to the databank of 87 heads of state (x̄ = 0.44) and 122 political leaders (x̄ = 0.45), Assad’s score ranges slightly below the general mean (see Appendix B). It can be observed that he depicted the highest level of belief to be able to control events (0.47) in 2017 in his interview with AFP and the lowest level (0.39) in 2016 in another interview with AFP (for differences in answering behaviour see Appendix C). According to Hermann (2002, p. 15), leaders who do not have a strong belief that they can control events are rather reactive, reluctant to act first, and often less likely to take over the initiative.
Already in 2005, Leverett points out Assad’s awareness of constraints on his power and capability to shape events in Syria. He argues that Assad “sees himself as constrained (…) and openly acknowledges his need for external support to improve (…) implementation of reform initiatives and policies“ (Leverett, 2005, p. 82). Leverett (2005) further emphasises Assad’s “self-acknowledged constraints“ (p. 98) and that he recognises deficiencies in his ability to achieve policy goals due to limitations in the system of governance and power structures of Syrian agencies and ministries. This point of view is supported by Jenkins (2014), who argues that Assad was aware of his lack of control over foreign volunteers, regime-friendly militias, and Hezbollah fighters. In Spitaletta’s (2014) leadership trait analysis of Assad, the Syrian leader scores 0.42 for his belief to be able to control events. Diverging only 0.01 from our result, Spitaletta (2014) concludes that Assad is “unlikely to be overly proactive or reactive in policy-making” (p. 73).
The need for power and influence signals a leader’s determination to establish, maintain, or restore the power needed to secure that very leadership position — or, as Winter (1973) puts it, to have “control of the means of influence” (p. 57) and impact the action and volition of individuals or groups. When coding an interview for a leader’s need for power, the frequency of verbs is determined which signal that a leader proposes forceful action, engages in arguments, accusations, threats, unsolicited advice, worries about their position or reputation, or tries to actively control the behaviour of others (Hermann, 2002, p. 15). With a mean of 32 high need for power observations and 90 low need for power observations per interview, Assad scores an average of 0.28 when it comes to his need for power (see Appendix A). Compared to the 87 heads of state (x̄ = 0.5) and 122 political leaders (x̄ = 0.5), his score is considered low (< 0.37) (see Appendix B). It can be observed that he depicted the highest level of need for power (0.34) in 2017 in his interview with AFP and the lowest level (0.22) in 2011 with ABC (see Appendix C). Hermann (2002) assesses that leaders without a high need for power “have less need to be in charge; they can be one among several who have influence” (p. 17) and often become agents for their group, advocating for and representing their positions in policy-making.
Our result is congruent with the literature and supported by various authors over the years. In 2004, Wieland quoted Syrian actors who called Assad a „junior partner” (p. 56) in the Syrian power structure as well as a “prisoner of his power clique” (p. 103). Bar (2006) extends these claims, arguing that the remains of his father’s regime – the “old guard” – still constituted the main policy driver at the time and no specific policies could be attributed “to Bashar alone or to his overruling of others“ (p. 369). While Bar (2006, p. 374) acknowledges that the survival of his regime is the top priority for Assad, he argues that Assad does not insist on pursuing this objective solely on his terms but instead delegates authority, and consults experts on various matters, and rarely takes decisions alone. Phillips (2020) observed this tendency also during the height of the protests and civil war, during which “Assad did not want to get his hands dirty [and] delegated authority for the crackdown” (p. 14) to military and intelligence leaders. Although the presence and influence of the “old guard” during the early years of the Assad reign is not contested, various authors describe that over time, Assad attempted to rid his government of these influences, removed many of the former key actors, and expanded his range of power (Bar, 2006, p. 374; Zisser, 2007, p. 64; extensively in Ziadeh, 2011; Van Dam, 2017). The decentralised distribution of power in the Syrian state apparatus and the resulting necessity for Assad to share influence and power among various actors is further described by Van Dam (2017, p. 105), who regards a handful of military leaders from various branches of the army as the most important contestants for Assad’s claim to power (see also Stacher, 2012; Scheller, 2014, p. 45). Borshchevskaya (2022, p. 154) also regards Russian president Putin to be a major influence and competitor to Assad’s ability to wield power on his own, claiming that Syria’s dependence on Russian financial and military aid gives Putin significant leverage over decision-making in Damascus. Helberg (2018) further supports these assessments by arguing that Assad, contrary to his father, lacks an “extraordinary instinct for power” (p. 16). Spitaletta’s (2014) assessment of Assad’s need for power (0.29) is again coherent with our result and he concludes that Assad “has less of a need to be in charge and may be more amenable to subordinates assuming more prominent roles” (p. 75).
Since Assad believes that he can control events only to a less than average degree and depicts a low need for power, he will be considered low on both traits. Hermann (2002, p. 13) argues that someone low on both traits respects constraints, works within these towards their goals, and holds consensus and compromise in high regard.
Openness to Contextual Information
To determine Assad’s openness to external input in the decision-making process, his level of self-confidence and conceptual complexity is assessed. Self-confidence as a personality trait indicates a leader’s sense of self-importance and if they perceive themselves to be able to properly deal with individuals and objects in their surroundings (Hermann, 2002, p. 20). The focus during the coding for self-confidence lies on the connection of a leader’s personal pronouns to the engagement in an activity, the proclamation of authority, or the reception of positive responses from outside groups (Hermann, 2002, p. 21). Averaging 19 high self-confidence observations and 38 low self-confidence observations per interview, Bashar Al-Assad scores an average of 0.37 for his self-confidence (see Appendix A). Compared to the databank of 87 heads of state (x̄ = 0.62) and 122 political leaders (x̄ = 0.57), Assad’s score of 0.37 ranges low among the heads of state (< 0.44) and only slightly above a low classification among the political leaders (< 0.36) (see Appendix B). He depicted the highest level of self-confidence (0.56) in 2017 in his interview with AFP and the lowest level (0.27) in 2017 with Yahoo (see Appendix C). Hermann (2002, p. 21) states that leaders with low self-confidence tend to be highly influenced by changing circumstances and shifts of opinion in their environment. Because they are unsure about the paths to pursue, these leaders seek feedback, information, and opinions from others and tend to act inconsistently — depending on the setting, audience, and surroundings (Hermann, 2002, p. 22).
Our assessment of Assad’s self-confidence is supported by a consistent and uniform image of the leader, conveyed through various sources between 2004 and 2020. Assad is portrayed as a leader who “knows about his weaknesses“ (Wieland, 2004, p. 92), “is acutely aware of his leadership deficiencies“ (Bar, 2006, p. 370), lacks “the image of a charismatic, capable leader“ (Zisser, 2007, p. 29), has an “obvious absence of experience and self-confidence“ (Zisser, 2007, p. 43; also Bar, 2006, p. 377), and, according to an account by former U.S. ambassador Robert S. Ford, Assad has “such a weak personality” (Phillips, 2020, p. 18). Resulting of this lack of self-confidence, Assad relied on others for guidance and advice from early on. Starting with the “old guard”, followed by new advisors and technocrats of his own choosing, and now Syrian military leaders as well as Russia and Iran — Assad remains in need of others. With a score of 0.27, Spitaletta’s (2014) analysis yields an even lower evaluation of Assad’s self-confidence than our paper does. Nonetheless, both leadership analyses of Assad correspond with the consistent picture depicted of the leader in the pertinent literature.
Conceptual complexity describes the level of differentiation that a leader is able to employ when contemplating “other people, places, policies, ideas, or things” (Hermann, 2002, p. 22). To determine the level of conceptual complexity, specific words are coded that indicate a leader’s ability to detect multiple dimensions of a single affair (for examples see Hermann, 2002, p. 22; for an exhaustive list see Levine & Young, 2014). By averaging 170 high complexity observations and 117 low complexity observations per interview, Assad scores an average of 0.59 for contextual complexity (see Appendix A). Compared to the databank of 87 heads of state (x̄ = 0.44) and 122 political leaders (x̄ = 0.45), Assad’s score of 0.59 ranges high among both sample groups (> 0.56 and > 0.58 respectively) (see Appendix B). He showed the highest level of contextual complexity (0.65) in 2016 in his interview with AP and the lowest level (0.5) in 2017 with Yahoo (see Appendix C). Leaders that express a high degree of contextual complexity take in a wider scope of arguments and are capable to see issues from various perspectives (Hermann, 2002, p. 23). Hermann (2002, p. 23) also argues that these leaders often take their time in the decision-making process to be able to consider eventual outcomes and possible alternatives – they tend to not trust initial responses but rather try to maintain flexibility and be prepared for new insights.
The relevant literature supports such an evaluation and describes Assad as someone who does not take decisions “impulsively or without careful assessment, calculation, and preparation for the long-range implications“ (Bar, 2006, p. 367) and has an “inclination toward an analytical, rational and methodical approach“ (Zisser, 2007, pp. 19-20) when dealing with challenges. Even during the rapid developments early in the uprisings of the Arab Spring, Assad delayed an address to the nation for a week to reportedly gather facts and consult about the events on the streets before formulating his position (Phillips, 2020, p. 30). Assad’s high capability to differentiate and change perspectives is also often attributed to his vast exposure to Western ideals and values during his time as a doctor in Europe and due to his wife being born and raised in London (Zisser, 2007, pp. 22, 25). Being the former chair of the Syrian Computer Society, declaring himself to be a jazz fan, and intentionally cultivating an image of Syrian cosmopolitanism and orientation towards culture and arts led to Assad being conceived as a “Westernised” leader rather than one being driven by traditional values (Zisser, 2007, p. 130; Heydemann & Leenders, 2013, p. 23). He, furthermore, conducted extensive visits to Arab and Western European countries to meet other leaders personally and gather first-hand experiences about narratives and perceptions abroad (Zisser, 2007, p. 131). This viewpoint of Assad is contested by Van Dam (2017), who believes these evaluations to be rather “based on wishful thinking than on realities” (p. 85) and drastically exaggerated. Spitaletta’s (2014) assessment of Assad’s contextual complexity (= 0.66), although ranging 0.07 higher, yields the same classification as ours.
Since Assad showed low self-confidence but a high degree of conceptual complexity, he can be considered a leader that is open to contextual information. Such leaders, according to Hermann (2002, p. 18), are often responsive to the needs and interests of others and seem to conduct themselves in a more pragmatic fashion than others. Furthermore, they often handle events and issues case by case and tend to evaluate what actions they perceive to be acceptable in a situation prior to executing them (Hermann, 2002).
Motivation for Seeking Office
Lastly, it is necessary to determine the underlying reason for Assad to assume, remain in, and defend his position of power. To assess if he is either driven by internal motivations (e.g., particular interests, ideologies, or a specific cause) or by the desired reaction from his environment (e.g., support, power, approval), we will evaluate Assad’s motivation for seeking power as well as his identification with the group he belongs to (cf. Hermann, 2002).
When examining the motivation of a leader to seek office, we distinguish between different group functions that a leader can fulfil “maintaining group spirit and morale” (Hermann, 2002, p. 24) or pushing the group to pursue a task. To assess if leaders are such “relationship-builders” or “problem-solvers”, it is observed if they focus rather on the emotions and desires of relevant constituents or on interactions with other individuals. If words signal pursuing an activity or working on a task, they are counted as indicators for a task orientation. Meanwhile “words that center around concern for another’s feelings, desires, and satisfaction” (Hermann, 2002, p. 26) signal an orientation towards relationships. Averaging 67 high task observations and 69 low task observations per interview, Assad shows an average of 0.50 for his task orientation (see Appendix A). Compared to the databank of 87 heads of state (x̄ = 0.59) and 122 political leaders (x̄ = 0.62), a score of 0.50 ranges moderate among both sample groups (see Appendix B). He showed the highest degree of task focus (0.67) in 2016 in his interview with AFP and the lowest level (0.42) in 2013 with CBS (see Appendix C). Some scholars (e.g., Bass, 1981) argue that leaders with a moderate task focus are often charismatic by nature and — depending on the context — can focus on fostering relationships if appropriate or on problem-solving if necessary.
There is little evidence in the existing literature to confirm or refute such an assessment, but Bar argued in 2006 that Assad was well aware of the expectations and demands of the Syrian population and even interested in fulfilling them. Leverett (2005) also confirms that Assad’s task orientation in his early years was not particularly prominent due to a lack of “capacity or ultimate intention“ (p. 69) to solve social issues. Assad’s awareness of the relationship with his constituents is again reported by Phillips (2020, p. 24), who points out that during the early days of protests in Daraa, Assad attempted conciliation, tried to defuse tensions, and integrate community leaders into settlements with protestors. Contrary to our assessment, Spitaletta (2014) considers Assad to possess a very high task orientation (0.79) — a result not supported by other sources.
The personality trait of ingroup bias describes if and to what degree a leader’s worldview is occupied and impacted by a group affiliation (Hermann, 2002, p. 29). Hermann (2002) argues that intense and long-lasting attachments can exist between a leader and an ingroup and that the leader will put an emphasis on maintaining the culture and status of his group. When analysing the interviews, it is observed if words or phrases referring to the leader’s group are “favorable (…); suggest strength (…); or indicate the need to maintain group honor and identity” (Hermann, 2002, p. 29). When coding for ingroup bias, an average of only 7 high ingroup bias observations and 91 low ingroup bias observations per interview could be determined. Assad, therefore, scores an average of 0.07 for ingroup bias (see Appendix A). Compared to the databank of 87 heads of state (x̄ = 0.42) and 122 political leaders (x̄ = 0.43), Assad’s score of 0.07 for ingroup bias ranges far below what is classified as a low degree (< 0.32 and < 0.34 respectively) (see Appendix B). He showed the highest level of ingroup bias (0.11) in 2016 in his interview with AFP and the lowest level (0.04) in 2016 with AP (see Appendix C). According to Hermann (2002, p. 30), leaders with a low ingroup bias tend to see cleavages between groups as less rigid but are nonetheless concerned with maintaining their respective group. Such a differentiated perspective on friend and foe allows leaders to react and adapt more freely to the context and events in their environment (Hermann, 2002, p. 30).
While Assad’s reliance on the structures and power base of the Ba’th Party is uncontested, many sources confirm our evaluation that Assad does not possess an exaggerated ingroup bias but is able to rely on outsiders if it suits his interests, and thus, can adapt faster and more freely to changes in his surroundings. Assad has shown that he can strengthen and use the influence of party cadres while at the same time inserting external experts and technocrats into key positions in government (Bar, 2006, p. 362). This employment of the party as a powerful platform, while simultaneously fostering the careers of non-Ba’th experts, as observed by different authors, resulted in the strengthening of his own position — disliked cadres are alienated while favorable outsiders gain influence (Bar, 2006, p. 374; Sika, 2015, p. 165). Another group that Assad belongs to, but towards which he remains at a calculated distance, are the Alawites. Neither did he marry a woman of Alawite origin (Asma Al-Assad is from a Sunni family), nor did he “attach sufficient importance to entrenching his regime on firm clan, tribal and communal foundations“ (Zisser, 2007, pp. 58, 62-63). Since the ruling, Alawites see themselves confronted with a predominantly Sunni population, and the possibility of Assad’s demise has stoked fears of violent repercussions among their communities early on — realising they need Assad more than he needs them (Bawey, 2014, pp. 24, 49). Spitaletta (2014) also determined a low ingroup bias score for Assad (0.24), and thus, further supports our assessment.
As the last personality trait, a leader’s distrust of others is analysed. Such distrust can be ascertained if leaders possess a “general feeling of doubt, uneasiness, misgiving, and wariness about others” (Hermann, 2002, p. 30), as well as when they show the tendency to suspect actions and speculate about the motives of others. To establish the degree of distrust, interview responses are perused for statements towards individuals or groups external to the analysed leaders and their surroundings that indicate “distrust, doubt, misgivings or concern about what these persons or groups are doing” (Hermann, 2002, p. 10). By averaging 46 high distrust observations and 71 low distrust observations per interview, Assad scores an average of 0.39 for distrust towards others (see Appendix A). Compared to the databank of 87 heads of state (x̄ = 0.41) and 122 political leaders (x̄ = 0.38), Assad’s score of 0.39 is considered moderate (see Appendix B). He showed the highest level of distrust of others (0.49) in 2016 in his interview with AP and the lowest level (0.24) in 2005 with CNN (see Appendix C). Leaders with a moderate distrust of others are neither overly suspicious, paranoid or obsessed with loyalty nor do they take relationships and trust likely (Hermann, 2002, p. 31-32). Spitaletta’s (2014) analysis yielded a distrust score of 0.024, significantly lower than our assessment. The existing literature does not provide reliable insights to prove or refute either result, therefore, further investigation into Assad’s actual trust behaviour towards others is needed.
Since Assad has a low ingroup bias and a moderate distrust of others, his focus is on building relationships and seizing opportunities, while, at times and depending on the context, remaining vigilant towards his surroundings (Hermann, 2002, p. 28).
Comparison
Having thoroughly assessed Assad’s personality traits, compared the findings with other leaders, and put the results into context, it is further necessary to briefly analyse the changes in Assad’s answering behaviour and determine how these developments fit into the temporal context. To that end, the interviews used for this analysis are separated according to the time periods they were published (see Appendix D). The CNN interview from 2005 is used as a pre-Arab Spring reference, the interviews from 2011-2013 are used to depict Assad’s personality traits during the emergence, escalation, and height of the violence, and the interviews from 2016-2017 portray a time during which conflict prevailed but the survival of the regime seemed secure.
When comparing Assad’s results over these three periods, a few striking observations can be made. Assad’s distrust of others (from 0.24 in 2005 to 0.42 in 2016-2016), as well as his task focus (from 0.42 to 0.57), have increased most significantly. Being surrounded by enemies, ostracised in the international community, and afflicted by desertion, Assad must have realised that he can only rely on and trust in himself and his immediate surroundings. Furthermore, he recognised that he must face and ultimately overcome the challenges ahead with determined action – carefully attempting to foster relationships might prove inadequate when opposition forces have already seized the outskirts of your capital.
While his self-confidence has increased overall (0.36 to 0.39), it suffered a downturn during the height of the conflict (0.32). Because these interviews were conducted during a time in which his regime’s survival was far from certain, it is not farfetched to attribute this outlier to an uncertain future and concerns about the security of his regime, his family, and his life.
Assad’s belief to have the ability to control events has increased only slightly since 2005 (0.40 to 0.44), as has his conceptual complexity (0.57 to 0.59). His need for power on the other hand has decreased slightly (0.32 to 0.29), similar to his already low ingroup bias (0.10 to 0.07). Such nearly consistent observations that signal only minor changes over a long period of time serve as an indication of the quality of our findings and suggest that Assad possesses a consolidated personality in these aspects.
Conclusion
Our analysis has shown that Bashar Al-Assad respects constraints in his environment and works within these towards his goals. Among the actors and groups that Assad depends on or feels attached to, he values consensus and compromise. Furthermore, he is open to contextual information, and therefore, is more responsive to the needs and interests of others. Moreover, he is more pragmatic than other leaders, rather tends to handle issues case by case, and evaluates how actions are perceived by others prior to carrying them out. Depending on the context, his focus is either on building relationships or on seizing opportunities to solve problems.
According to Hermann (2002), leadership style is derived from a combination of a leader’s responsiveness to constraints, openness to information, and motivation for seeking office. Utilising this classification and applying it to the results of this analysis, Assad can be categorised as having either a reactive or accommodative leadership style, depending on the context. While reactive leaders focus on evaluating their possibilities in a given situation and consider which options important actors will favour or allow, accommodative leaders focus on building consensus in their environment, empowering others, sharing accountability, and reconciling differences (Hermann, 2002, p. 9).
This classification can help us to explain why Assad, unlike many of the leaders during the Arab Spring, is still in power a decade later. For one, he managed to restrain his ambitions and harmonise the means to his disposal with the ends he pursued. When a leader desires more than his resources allow, he will ultimately fail. But if he desires less than he can achieve, he will not reach his full potential. Assad knew his constraints and acted only when he was at an advantage, thereby he prevented overstretching his capabilities and wearing out his armed forces. Secondly, Assad made himself aware of the implications of his own actions on other actors. Skilfully, he combined Russian and Iranian resources to command an army of Alawites, Druzes, Christians, Kurds, and even Sunnis against a common enemy – all while balancing their interests against his own. Arguably, the loss of only one of these groups or allies could have caused significant harm, if not the downfall of the regime. Lastly, Assad did not refrain from sharing authority and power among important actors and allies. Without the Syrian security and intelligence apparatus as well as influential military leaders, he would arguably not have remained in power to this day. While other states saw the military and police switching sides during the Arab Spring — the ultimate demise for a ruler — the Syrian army and intelligence agencies remained loyal and consequently kept the regime alive.
In conclusion, Assad’s grip on power cannot be attributed to particularly exceptional and outstanding character traits, but to perseverance and the ability to adapt quickly and stay flexible, as well as to take into account the perspectives of others. His analysed character traits, some of which place rather below average, thus, suggest an ordinary and versatile leader who, instead of being distinguished by striking and memorable unique features, is rather characterised by the unification of extremes: from mediocrity to success.
As stated above, the authors of this paper only used interviews from Western sources between 2005 and 2017. Further and future research, therefore, needs to expand the data sources to also include Arabic interviews that cover earlier as well as later years and, to refine the results, use only longer responses (80 words or more). While our results are very similar to Spitaletta’s (2014), it is necessary to conduct further independent leadership trait analyses of Bashar Al-Assad and, by comparing data and methodology, assess the quality of each study’s results. Lastly, post-civil war analyses could provide additional references in the future and put results from during the civil war, such as this paper, into perspective.
Appendix
Appendix A
Appendix B
Appendix C
Appendix D
Bibliography
ABC (2011). TRANSCRIPT: ABC’s Barbara Walters’ Interview With Syrian President Bashar al-Assad. ABC News December 6, 2011. Accessible online at: https://abcnews.go.com/International/transcript-abcs-barbara-walters-interview-syrian-president-bashar/story?id=15099152
AFP (2016). Transcript of exclusive AFP interview with Syria’s Assad. Justice Info. February 12, 2016. Accessible online at: https://www.justiceinfo.net/en/26000-transcript-of-exclusive-afp-interview-with-syria-s-assad.html
AFP (2017). Transcript of exclusive AFP interview with Syria’s Assad. The Peninsula. April 13, 2017. Accessible online at: https://m.thepeninsulaqatar.com/article/13/04/2017/Transcript-of-exclusive-AFP-interview-with-Syria-s-Assad-1
Al Arabiya News (2021) US rules out normalizing with Syria’s Assad. Al Arabiya News. 14.10.2021. Retrievable online at: https://english.alarabiya.net/News/middle-east/2021/10/14/US-rules-out-normalizing-with-Syria-s-Assad Last access: 14.10.2021
Al Jazeera (2017) Leaders in the Arab Spring era: Where are they now? Al Jazeera. 04.12.2021. Retrievable online at: https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2017/12/4/leaders-in-the-arab-spring-era-where-are-they-now Last access: 14.10.2021.
AP (2016). Full transcript of AP interview with Syrian President Assad. The Associated Press. September 22, 2016. Accessible online at: https://apnews.com/article/c6cfec4970e44283968baa98c41716bd
Armbruster, J. (2013). Brennpunkt Nahost: Die Zerstörung Syriens und das Versagen des Westens (1. Aufl.). Westend.
Bank, A., & Edel, M. (2015). Authoritarian Regime Learning: Comparative Insights from the Arab Uprisings. German Institute of Global and Area Studies (GIGA). Accessible online at: http://www.jstor.org/stable/resrep07503
Bar, S. (2006). Bashar’s Syria: The Regime and its Strategic Worldview. Herzliya: Institute for Policy and Strategy.
Bass, B. M. (1981). Stogdill’s Handbook of Leadership. New York: Free Press.
Bawey, B. (2014). Assads Kampf um die Macht: 100 Jahre Syrienkonflikt. Wiesbaden: Springer VS.
Bawey, B. (2016). Assads Kampf um die Macht: Eine Einführung zum Syrienkonflikt. Wiesbaden: Springer VS.
Borshchevskaya, A. (2022). Putin’s War in Syria: Russian Foreign Policy and the Price of America’s Absence. London: I.B. Tauris.
Büchs, A. (2009). The Resilience of Authoritarian Rule in Syria under Hafez and Bashar Al-Asad. German Institute of Global and Area Studies (GIGA). Accessible online at: http://www.jstor.org/stable/resrep07504
Cabayan, H., & N. Wright (Eds.) (2014a). A multi-disciplinary, multi-method approach to leader assessment at a distance: The case of Bashar al-Assad, Part I: Summary, comparison of results, and recommendations. Strategic Multilayer Assessment February 2014. Accessible online at: http://socialscience.net/docs/alAssadPartIApril2014.pdf
Cabayan, H., & N. Wright (Eds.) (2014b). A multi-disciplinary, multi-method approach to leader assessment at a distance: The case of Bashar al-Assad, Part II: Analytical Approaches. Strategic Multilayer Assessment February 2014. Accessible online at: http://socialscience.net/docs/alAssadPartIIApril2014.pdf
CBS (2013). Transcript of Bashar Al-Assad’s interview with CBS. The Syrian Observer. September 10, 2013. Accessible online at: https://syrianobserver.com/interviews/34692/president_assads_interview_with_american_cbs_news.html
CNN (2005). Al-Assad: ‘Syria has nothing to do with this crime’. CNN October 12, 2005. Accessible online at: https://edition.cnn.com/2005/WORLD/meast/10/12/alassad.transcript/
Dalton, M. G. (2012). Asad Under Fire: Five Scenarios for the Future of Syria. Center for a New American Security. Accessible online at: http://www.jstor.org/stable/resrep06174
Donker, T. H., & Janssen, F. (2011). Supporting the Syrian Summer: Dynamics of the Uprising and Considerations for International Engagement. Clingendael Institute. http://www.jstor.org/stable/resrep05343
Fontaine, R. (2013). The President is Right to Intervene, but Then What? Center for a New American Security. Accessible online at: http://www.jstor.org/stable/resrep06238
Helberg, K. (2018). Der Syrien-Krieg: Lösung eines Weltkonflikts. Freiburg: Verlag Herder.
Hermann, M. G. (1977). A Psychological Examination of Political Leaders. New York: Free Press.
Hermann, M. G. (1985) Validating a Technique for Assessing Personalities of Political Leaders at a Distance: A Test Using Three Heads of State. Report prepared for Defense Systems, Inc.
Hermann, M. G. (1980). Explaining Foreign Policy Behavior Using the Personal Characteristics of Political Leaders. International Studies Quarterly, 24, 7-46.
Hermann, M. G. (2002). Assessing Leadership Style: A Trait Analysis. Slingerlands, NY: Social Science Automation.
Herr, L. D., Müller, M., Opitz, A., & Wilzewski, J. (2019). Weltmacht im Abseits: Amerikanische Außenpolitik in der Ära Donald Trump. Baden-Baden: Nomos.
Heydemann, S., & Leenders, R. (2013). Middle East Authoritarianisms: Governance, Contestation, and Regime Resilience in Syria and Iran. Stanford: Stanford University Press.
Holmes, O. (2020). Arab spring autocrats: The dead, the ousted and those who remain. The Guardian 14.12.2020. Accessible online at: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/dec/14/arab-spring-autocrats-the-dead-the-ousted-and-those-who-survived Last access: 14.10.2021.
Hubbard, B. (2021) Bashar al-Assad Steps In From the Cold, but Syria Is Still Shattered. New York Times 11.10.2021. Accessible online at: https://www.nytimes.com/2021/10/11/world/middleeast/al-assad-syria.html Last access: 14.10.2021.
Jenkins, B. M. (2014). The Dynamics of Syriaʹs Civil War. RAND Corporation. Accessible online at: http://www.jstor.org/stable/resrep02450
Leverett, F. (2005). Inheriting Syria: Bashar’s Trial by Fire. Brookings Institution Press.
Levine, N., and M. D. Young (2014). Leadership Trait Analysis and Threat Assessment with Profiler Plus. Proceedings of ILC 2014 on 8th International Lisp Conference, Montreal, QC, Canada — August 14-17, 2014. Association for Computing Machinery.
Lister, C. (2021) Biden’s Inaction on Syria Risks Normalizing Assad—and His Crimes. Foreign Policy 08.10.2021. Retrievable online at: https://foreignpolicy.com/2021/10/08/biden-syria-policy-assad-war-crimes/ Last access: 14.10.2021.
O’Connor, T. (2021) Syria’s Bashar al-Assad Returns to World Stage in Defeat for US, Win for its Foes. Newsweek 13.10.2021. Retrievable online at: https://www.newsweek.com/2021/10/22/syrias-bashar-al-assad-returns-world-stage-defeat-us-win-its-foes-1637831.html Last access: 14.10.2021.
Pamuk, H. (2021) Blinken says U.S. does not support normalisation efforts with Syria’s Assad. Reuters 13.10.2021. Retrievable online at https://www.reuters.com/world/middle-east/blinken-says-us-does-not-intend-normalize-relations-with-syrias-assad-2021-10-13/ Last access: 14.10.2021.
Phillips, David L. (2020). Frontline Syria: From Revolution to Proxy War. London: I.B. Tauris.
Scheller, B. (2014). The Wisdom of Syria’s Waiting Game: Foreign Policy under the Assads. London: C. Hurst & Co.
Schneiders, T. G. (2013). Der Arabische Frühling: Hintergründe und Analysen. Wiesbaden: Springer VS.
Serwer, D. (2012). Post-Asad Syria. PRISM 3(4), 2–11. Accessible online at: http://www.jstor.org/stable/26469757
Sika, N. (2015). Arab States, Regime Change and Social Contestation Compared: the Cases of Egypt and Syria. In The Arab Uprisings: Transforming and Challenging State Power, E. Kienle and N. Sika (eds.), 158–175. London and New York: I.B. Tauris.
Syrian Observatory for Human Rights (SOHR) (2021). Total death toll | Over 606,000 people killed across Syria since the beginning of the “Syrian Revolution”, including 495,000 documented by SOHR. SOHR June 1, 2021. Accessible online at: https://www.syriahr.com/en/217360/
Spitaletta, J. (2014). Approach 3: Leadership Trait Analysis. In A multi-disciplinary, multi-method approach to leader assessment at a distance: The case of Bashar al-Assad, Part II: Analytical Approaches, H. Cabayan & N. Wright (Eds.), 62-77. Accessible online at: http://socialscience.net/docs/alAssadPartIIApril2014.pdf
Stacher, J. (2012). Adaptable Autocrats: Regime Power in Egypt and Syria. Stanford University Press.
van Dam, N. (2011). The struggle for power in Syria: politics and society under Asad and the Ba’th Party. London: I.B. Tauris.
van Dam, N. (2017). Destroying a nation: the civil war in Syria. London: Bloomsbury Publishing.
Wieland, C. (2004). Syrien nach dem Irak-Krieg: Bastion gegen Islamisten oder Staat vor dem Kollaps?. Berlin: Klaus Schwarz Verlag.
Yahoo (2017). Full interview transcript: Syrian President Bashar Assad. Yahoo February 10, 2017. Accessible online at: https://www.yahoo.com/news/full-interview-transcript-syrian-president-bashar-assad-194809125.html?soc_src=social-sh&soc_trk=ma
Ziadeh, R. (2010). Power and policy in Syria: Intelligence services, foreign relations and democracy in the modern Middle East. London: I.B. Tauris.
Zisser, E. (2007). Commanding Syria: Bashar al-Asad and the first years in power (First edition.). London: I.B. Tauris.
Zisser, E. (2011). The Syria of Bashar al-Asad: At a Crossroads. Institute for National Security Studies. Accessible online at: http://www.jstor.org/stable/resrep08826
Further Reading on E-International Relations | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 77 | https://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/132157307913 | en | Russian Military Medal "Participants of military operations in Syria" Award | [
"https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/IVEAAOSwvpRmcEd7/s-l140.jpg",
"https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/omUAAOSwiA9mcEd7/s-l140.jpg",
"https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/Ug4AAOSwEz9mcEd7/s-l140.jpg",
"https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/s-UAAOSw3bBmcEd6/s-l140.jpg",
"https://i.ebayimg.com/images/g/EyAAAOSwsElmcEd7/s-l140.jpg"... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | The award was presented not only to military personnel, but also to civilians. In addition. | en | eBay | https://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/132157307913 | Will usually dispatch within same working day if paid before 11:00 BST (excludes weekends and holidays). Expected dispatch time may vary and is based on seller's order cut-off time.Price displayed includes VAT. The final charge may be different depending on the delivery address. Learn moreLearn more about value-added tax. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 2 | https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-43833652 | en | Syria returns Légion d'honneur award to France | [
"https://www.bbc.com/bbcx/grey-placeholder.png",
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/240/cpsprodpb/11125/production/_100952996_046291937.jpg.webp 240w,https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/320/cpsprodpb/11125/production/_100952996_046291937.jpg.webp 320w,https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/480/cpsprodpb/11125/production/_100952996_... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"BBC News"
] | 2018-04-20T03:52:21+00:00 | The Légion d'honneur is handed back after France joined the US and Britain in air strikes on Syria. | en | /bbcx/apple-touch-icon.png | https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-43833652 | Syria has returned to France the prestigious Légion d'honneur presented to President Bashar al-Assad, saying he would not wear the award of a country that was a "slave" to America.
The move comes days after France said a "disciplinary procedure" for withdrawing the award was under way.
France recently joined the US and Britain in bombing Syrian targets over an alleged chemical weapons attack.
The award was returned to France via the Romanian embassy in Damascus.
President Assad was decorated with the highest class of the award, the grand-croix, in 2001 after he took power following the death of his father.
"The ministry of foreign affairs... has returned to the French republic... the decoration of the grand-croix of the Légion d'honneur awarded to President Assad," the Syrian foreign ministry said in a statement.
"It is no honour for President Assad to wear a decoration attributed by a slave country and follower of the United States that supports terrorists," it added.
About 3,000 people every year are awarded the Légion d'honneur for "services rendered to France" or for defending human rights, press freedom or similar causes.
The US, UK and France bombed several Syrian government sites on Saturday in retaliation for an alleged chemical weapons attack on Douma, the last rebel-held town in the Eastern Ghouta region outside Damascus.
More than 40 people were killed in the 7 April attack, according to opposition activists, rescue workers and medics.
The Syrian government denies using chemical weapons and says the attack was fabricated.
The Légion d'honneur's controversial recipients
Bashar al-Assad was awarded France's highest honour after he had taken over from his late father, at a time when it was hoped he would bring political change in Syria.
Other recipients include former dictators Benito Mussolini, Francisco Franco and Col Muammar Gaddafi.
More recently, Tunisia's ousted former President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali was awarded it in 1989 while it was given to Russian President Vladimir Putin in 2006.
Observers say awarding such honours to foreign dignitaries, who see it as a prestigious honour to receive, can be used as an instrument of influence with foreign powers.
So far, only one foreign leader has been stripped of the honour, former Panamian President Manuel Norriega. Since then, it has become easier to strip a foreign dignitary of the title. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 81 | https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/sam-dagher/assad-or-we-burn-the-country/ | en | ASSAD, OR WE BURN THE COUNTRY | [
"https://d1fd687oe6a92y.cloudfront.net/img/kir_images/logo/kirkus-nav-logo.svg",
"https://d1fd687oe6a92y.cloudfront.net/img/kir_images/icons/user.png",
"https://d1fd687oe6a92y.cloudfront.net/img/kir_images/logo/kirkus-nav-logo.svg",
"https://d1fd687oe6a92y.cloudfront.net/img/kir_images/icons/search.png",
"h... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Sam Dagher"
] | 2019-05-28T00:00:00 | A harrowing, deeply researched look inside a country riven by a brutal, long-running dictatorship that would rather destroy the country and its people than relinquish power. | en | Kirkus Reviews | https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/sam-dagher/assad-or-we-burn-the-country/ | A harrowing, deeply researched look inside a country riven by a brutal, long-running dictatorship that would rather destroy the country and its people than relinquish power.
To understand Bashar al-Assad’s use of lies and terror to subjugate his people, journalist Dagher, who spent more than 15 years covering the Middle East, including the Syrian civil war, for the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times (he was expelled from Syria in 2014), looks first at the regime of his father, Hafez al-Assad, who established the violent playbook. Hafez and his right-hand man, Mustafa Tlass, seized power in 1963 and created a dreaded secret police force, brutally eliminating all opponents and inklings of opposition. Assad's second son, Bashar, who was enlisted as successor only when his “golden knight” older brother was killed in a car wreck, assumed power in 2000 upon his father’s death. He was packaged as a “reform” leader, and he was courted by world leaders especially after 9/11 as the lynchpin in fighting Islamic terrorism in the Middle East. Meticulously and systematically, Dagher shows how the glamorous front concealed the truth: Assad was behind the assassination of Lebanese Prime Minister Rafic Hariri in 2005; he was enjoying the full support of Hezbollah and Iran; and, when the Arab Spring erupted in 2011, he employed the murderous tactics of his father across the country. His support by Iran and ultimately Russia allowed him to remain in power by presenting the Syrian civil war as necessary in defeating the Islamic State. Dagher scored a highly valuable source for this work, Manaf Tlass, son of Mustafa, who was, as the familial roles played out, Bashar’s own right arm in the early years of his rule (he defected to France in 2012). Besides insiders, the author interviewed numerous opposition leaders who endured terror and torture to challenge Assad’s dictatorship yet “must surrender to the fact that there’s nothing we can do if the entire world wants Bashar to stay.”
A riveting chronicle from a courageous journalist who was there to witness and report the truth. A book that should deservedly garner significant award attention.
Greed, depravity, and serial murder in 1920s Oklahoma.
During that time, enrolled members of the Osage Indian nation were among the wealthiest people per capita in the world. The rich oil fields beneath their reservation brought millions of dollars into the tribe annually, distributed to tribal members holding "headrights" that could not be bought or sold but only inherited. This vast wealth attracted the attention of unscrupulous whites who found ways to divert it to themselves by marrying Osage women or by having Osage declared legally incompetent so the whites could fleece them through the administration of their estates. For some, however, these deceptive tactics were not enough, and a plague of violent death—by shooting, poison, orchestrated automobile accident, and bombing—began to decimate the Osage in what they came to call the "Reign of Terror." Corrupt and incompetent law enforcement and judicial systems ensured that the perpetrators were never found or punished until the young J. Edgar Hoover saw cracking these cases as a means of burnishing the reputation of the newly professionalized FBI. Bestselling New Yorker staff writer Grann (The Devil and Sherlock Holmes: Tales of Murder, Madness, and Obsession, 2010, etc.) follows Special Agent Tom White and his assistants as they track the killers of one extended Osage family through a closed local culture of greed, bigotry, and lies in pursuit of protection for the survivors and justice for the dead. But he doesn't stop there; relying almost entirely on primary and unpublished sources, the author goes on to expose a web of conspiracy and corruption that extended far wider than even the FBI ever suspected. This page-turner surges forward with the pacing of a true-crime thriller, elevated by Grann's crisp and evocative prose and enhanced by dozens of period photographs.
Dogged original research and superb narrative skills come together in this gripping account of pitiless evil.
For Howard Zinn, long-time civil rights and anti-war activist, history and ideology have a lot in common. Since he thinks that everything is in someone's interest, the historian—Zinn posits—has to figure out whose interests he or she is defining/defending/reconstructing (hence one of his previous books, The Politics of History). Zinn has no doubts about where he stands in this "people's history": "it is a history disrespectful of governments and respectful of people's movements of resistance." So what we get here, instead of the usual survey of wars, presidents, and institutions, is a survey of the usual rebellions, strikes, and protest movements. Zinn starts out by depicting the arrival of Columbus in North America from the standpoint of the Indians (which amounts to their standpoint as constructed from the observations of the Europeans); and, after easily establishing the cultural disharmony that ensued, he goes on to the importation of slaves into the colonies. Add the laborers and indentured servants that followed, plus women and later immigrants, and you have Zinn's amorphous constituency. To hear Zinn tell it, all anyone did in America at any time was to oppress or be oppressed; and so he obscures as much as his hated mainstream historical foes do—only in Zinn's case there is that absurd presumption that virtually everything that came to pass was the work of ruling-class planning: this amounts to one great indictment for conspiracy. Despite surface similarities, this is not a social history, since we get no sense of the fabric of life. Instead of negating the one-sided histories he detests, Zinn has merely reversed the image; the distortion remains. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 98 | https://scm.bz/en/scm-awards/ | en | SCM Awards | http://scm.bz/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/AWORDS-6-1024x576.png | http://scm.bz/wp-content/uploads/2024/02/AWORDS-6-1024x576.png | [
"https://scm.bz/wp-content/plugins/sitepress-multilingual-cms/res/flags/en.svg",
"https://scm.bz/wp-content/uploads/2024/04/SCM-logo-Vertical-Transparentf.png",
"https://scm.bz/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/SCM-logo-3-with-Clear-Space-1-1.png",
"https://scm.bz/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/SCM-logo-3-with-Clear-Spa... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2024-02-01T17:15:33+00:00 | 2011: 2012: 2013 2014 2015: 2016: 2017 2018 2021 2022 2023: | en | المركز السوري للإعلام وحرية التعبير Syrian Center for Media and Freedom of Expression | https://scm.bz/en/scm-awards/ | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 95 | https://www.al-monitor.com/originals/2015/09/syria-sweida-protest-demonstration-druze-electricity.html | en | Protesters destroy Hafez al-Assad statue in Suwayda | [
"https://www.facebook.com/tr?id=966621336700630&ev=PageView&noscript=1",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/themes/custom/alm/logo.svg",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/themes/custom/alm/logo.svg",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/sites/default/files/styles/article_header/public/almpics/2015/09/statue1.png/statue1.png?h=f782... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Mustafa al-Haj"
] | 2015-09-10T08:30:42-04:00 | The residents of the Syrian city of Suwayda took to the street in peaceful demonstrations in early September to voice their opposition to the rampant corruption and bad living conditions in the city. | en | /themes/custom/alm/icons/globe.svg | Al-Monitor: Independent, trusted coverage of the Middle East | https://www.al-monitor.com/originals/2015/09/syria-sweida-protest-demonstration-druze-electricity.html | DAMASCUS, Syria — Suwayda, the relatively calm Syrian city with a majority of Druze residents located 100 kilometers (62 miles) south of Damascus, witnessed on Sept. 1 peaceful demonstrations that were the biggest of its kind since the outbreak of the Syrian revolution. Scores of protesters flocked to the governorate’s municipality building downtown, demanding the improvement of living conditions and the dismissal of the corrupt politicians and holding the latter accountable.
The sit-in came as a response to a campaign launched on Facebook — #Khanaqtouna (You Suffocated Us) — by a number of activists in the city. The page quickly garnered the attention and support of the city’s residents, who responded to the call and took to the street. Another protest took place on Sept. 3, where protesters raised their demands, calling for the ousting of the city's governor, Afef Naddaf. Protesters shouted slogans akin to the Arab Spring — “Down with the regime” — but were keen on keeping the march as peaceful as possible, so as to avoid any clashes with the security forces controlling the city, according to the campaign’s Facebook page. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 63 | https://www.institutmontaigne.org/en/expressions/syrian-uprising-10-year-anniversary-diplomatic-perspective | en | Syrian Uprising 10-Year Anniversary: A Diplomatic Perspective | [
"https://www.institutmontaigne.org/ressources/styles/publication_vignette/public/images/Publications/vignette-innovation-francaise-nos-incroyables-talents.jpg.webp?itok=Zz7TlxU3",
"https://www.institutmontaigne.org/ressources/styles/expression_large/public/images/Blog/image-all-syrian-uprising-10-year-anniversary... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | On the occasion of the 10th anniversary of the Syrian uprising, our Special Advisor and former French Ambassador to Syria Michel Duclos discusses his experience of working in the country and provides a diplomatic perspective on the Syrian conflict. Michel Duclos was interviewed by Jihad Yazigi, Editor-in-Chief of The Syria Report. The article was initially published in The Syrian Observer on 17.03.2021. | en | /ressources/favicon.ico | Institut Montaigne | https://www.institutmontaigne.org/en/expressions/syrian-uprising-10-year-anniversary-diplomatic-perspective | A few years on, the question arose: should we not re-establish ties with Assad? My response is simple: we must not engage with a dictator who has perpetrated mass crimes. Certainly not a country like France, where political identity is tied up with the law of human rights. Moreover, our historical experience shows it is not according to Western countries - at least not European - that the regime sets its course. It is futile to think that dialogue with it could be productive. France tried on several occasions under Chirac and Sarkozy without achieving anything. If France were to open dialogue in the current circumstances, it would simply lead to fresh humiliation.
Some in the US claim that Syria is not strategically important. At the same time, armies from around the region and the world are on the ground. How do you explain the level of internationalization of the Syrian conflict?
The entire American approach towards the region is centred on Iraq, Iran and the Gulf, with Syria a secondary concern. Syria, however, has turned out to be particularly important for the Islamic Republic of Iran; control over Damascus represents part of the "family jewels" acquired by the Iranian Islamic Revolution. Having a "Shiite corridor" to the Mediterranean represents a major strategic gain for Tehran, hence the Iranians’ heavy investment in saving the regime from the very outset of the uprising, leading to the involvement of Hezbollah.
The Russians had other reasons for becoming equally involved, especially after 2015 when Putin understood the United States would leave the field clear for him. The Turks - not without reason - considered their own interests to be directly threatened by the possible emergence of a mini-Kurdish state, an influx of refugees and the threat of terrorism.
To justify their inaction, American officials of the time explain that "regime change" was a bad approach that had mired them in all sorts of debacles over the course of the previous decades. It was the theme of Philip Gordon’s latest book. When it comes to Syria, however, we can do an inverse reading; on at least two occasions, Obama saved the regime’s skin: when it allowed chemical attacks in the summer of 2013 to go unpunished; and when the American air force, in the spring of 2015, bombarded an armed group that would have threatened the Alawite coast had it overrun the northeast.
A solution to the Syrian conflict seems dependent on an agreement between the main international actors. How likely is that to happen ?
Both in theory and in practise, a solution to the conflict can only emerge from an alignment of interests among the main powers involved.
In any case, the Assad regime’s capacity to resist is strong. It knows what it wants: to endure by preserving the hard core of its power, namely the security services. Assad believes his protectors need him more than he needs them. His relationship with the Iranian Supreme leader is one of vassal to suzerain. He adopted his father’s textbook in which one of the rules is to play one patron against another if necessary.
That said, I believe we must avoid mythologizing the omnipotence of the Assad model. This regime rules amidst ruins. Even a serious analyst - otherwise inclined to highlight the successes of the regime - notes that it controls only scant stretches of the country’s borders. Its hold on "useful Syria" remains tenuous. For now, its continuity may be expedient to both the Russians and the Iranians, but nobody knows whether the regime could survive a change of opinion in one or the other of its protectors. And then there is Israel: the Israelis always proceed on the assumption that it is preferable to keep in place the devil they know. They never understood that Bashar is no longer the devil they knew, for - unlike his father - he has invited a massive Iranian presence into Syria. Will they come to realise this one day?
What should we expect from the Biden administration?
Expectations are meagre, at least a priori. The near East in general and Syria in particular are not priorities for this administration.
Furthermore, it is staffed with old Obama administration officials, which raises an important question: are we headed towards an "Obama III" style policy? That would mean the Syrian crisis would be regarded as a subset of the Iran issue. For all his associates’ claims to the contrary, President Obama was prepared to go very far to win over the Iranians by not bothering them in Syria. It is true the context has changed; on at least two scores, we can expect to get a hearing from the new administration. For one, tolerance for human rights violations will be lower than it was under Trump. Secondly, Biden personally perceives Russia as a strategic adversary, and Russophobia has taken on new proportions among the American political class.
Here there is one point we may build on: Russia’s interest in Syria is to preserve the status quo and re-legitimise Assad through a phoney re-election, his readmission to the Arab League, normalisation of Syria’s ties with its neighbours, and reconstruction financed by Gulf countries. This, from a Russian perspective, is called a "frozen conflict", which it can manage at minimal cost while safeguarding its key levers. It enables Russia to reduce its politico-military engagement in Syria and invest elsewhere, for example in Libya or Georgia.
Is this really what Washington hopes for? Should we not continue to put pressure on the Assad regime and raise costs for the Russians and Iranians? That was the merit of the "Caesar Act", and of maintaining Western forces in the northeast alongside the SDF. I hope this policy will be continued by the Biden administration.
If you were to provide some broad guidelines on a diplomatic solution to the stalemate what would they be?
In order for an international settlement to be possible one day, we must in my view set two lines of action. Firstly, to definitively brand Bashar al-Assad an international pariah. In this regard, the legal actions multiplying in Europe are encouraging - credit to German justice! At a time when certain governments appear to have resigned themselves to restoring ties, the de-legitimisation of the tyrant continues in international opinion. Diplomatically, therefore, the first task is to dissuade Arab and certain European states from normalising relations with the regime.
Let us recall Omar al-Bashir. He ruled over Sudan for thirty years with methods comparable to those of the Assad regime.
His indictment by the International Criminal Court did not prevent him remaining in power, but it cast a shadow over the final decade of his rule and limited his horizons. Finally on Apr. 11 2019, following massive protests and a final push from one of the regime’s external patrons - an interesting precedent! - the tyrant’s political career was brought to an end in a military coup.
The second guideline is to fully support Syrian society. That is very difficult when it comes to the society inside the country, where eighty percent of Syrians are living in abject poverty. We must demand UN and European agencies to redouble their support for average Syrians, including in areas under the regime, but without coming to terms with the Assadist apparatchiks or allowing them to turn international aid to their own profit, as is currently the case.
Is there not a contradiction in wanting to help the Syrian people survive and imposing the tough sanctions of the Caesar Act? The answer is no: Assad is responsible for the disastrous state of his country - not international sanctions. Moreover, the Caesar sanctions were designed to hit the leaders and not the people.
Then there are Syrians in diaspora, who now outnumber those remaining inside the country. The Europeans should do more to ease the hardships of Syrians living in camps and elsewhere in neighbouring countries; they must support the opening of schools and award grants to allow young refugees to study. The European Union and member states must also ensure the proper integration of millions of Syrian refugees in Europe, whilst encouraging them to remain loyal to their country of origin.
It has been said before that the opposition’s key defeat was in losing the narrative, while Assad’s principal victory was in the war of propaganda. This, too, can - and already is - being reversed. Much in Western Syria has been seen through the distorting prism of the security services, portraying Syrians as an indiscriminate mass of fanatical terrorists. Now that Syrian refugees live among us, another image is taking shape, as evidenced in Germany, and also in the American think-tank ecosystem. The Syrians among us most often integrate without difficulty, showing great courage in adversity. Many are successful - as Syrians elsewhere have always succeeded abroad. They are open and intelligent people of exceptional resilience.
My feelings in a few words? We must ensure Assad does not escape international pariah status and fully support Syrian society. The rest will follow.
Copyright: LOUAI BESHARA / AFP | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 62 | https://www.britannica.com/biography/Bashar-al-Assad/Unrest-and-civil-war | en | Bashar al-Assad - Syrian Conflict, Dictatorship, Human Rights | [
"https://cdn.britannica.com/mendel/eb-logo/MendelNewThistleLogo.png",
"https://cdn.britannica.com/mendel/eb-logo/MendelNewThistleLogo.png",
"https://cdn.britannica.com/26/200226-004-5A34BCAA/Bashar-al-Assad.jpg",
"https://cdn.britannica.com/58/147658-131-CFE0B956/Hosni-Mubarak-2009.jpg?w=200&h=200&c=crop",
... | [] | [] | [
"Bashar al-Assad",
"encyclopedia",
"encyclopeadia",
"britannica",
"article"
] | null | [
"The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica"
] | 2005-05-12T00:00:00+00:00 | Bashar al-Assad - Syrian Conflict, Dictatorship, Human Rights: Beginning in March 2011, Assad faced a significant challenge to his rule when antigovernment protests broke out in Syria, inspired by a wave of pro-democracy uprisings in the Middle East and North Africa. (See Arab Spring.) While Syrian security forces used lethal force against demonstrators, Assad offered a variety of concessions, first shuffling his cabinet and then announcing that he would seek to abolish Syria’s emergency law and its Supreme State Security Court, both of which were used to suppress political opposition. However, implementation of those reforms coincided with a significant escalation of violence against protesters, drawing international condemnation for | en | /favicon.png | Encyclopedia Britannica | https://www.britannica.com/biography/Bashar-al-Assad/Unrest-and-civil-war | Beginning in March 2011, Assad faced a significant challenge to his rule when antigovernment protests broke out in Syria, inspired by a wave of pro-democracy uprisings in the Middle East and North Africa. (See Arab Spring.) While Syrian security forces used lethal force against demonstrators, Assad offered a variety of concessions, first shuffling his cabinet and then announcing that he would seek to abolish Syria’s emergency law and its Supreme State Security Court, both of which were used to suppress political opposition. However, implementation of those reforms coincided with a significant escalation of violence against protesters, drawing international condemnation for Assad and his government.
As unrest spread to new areas of the country, the government deployed tanks and troops to several cities that had become centres of protest. Amid reports of massacres and indiscriminate violence by security forces, Assad maintained that his country was the victim of an international conspiracy to instigate sectarian warfare in Syria and that the government was engaged in combating networks of armed insurgents rather than peaceful civilian protesters.
By September 2011 armed opposition groups had emerged and begun to stage increasingly effective attacks against Syrian forces. Attempts at international mediation by the Arab League and the United Nations failed to achieve a cease-fire, and by mid-2012 the crisis had evolved into a full-blown civil war. In July 2012 Assad’s inner circle suffered its most significant losses to date when several senior security officials were killed by a bomb inside a government building during a meeting. Among those killed were Daoud Rajiha, the minister of defense, and Assef Shawkat, Assad’s brother-in-law and one of his closest advisers.
With rebels and government troops seemingly locked in a bloody stalemate and security conditions deteriorating in Damascus, Assad’s public appearances became increasingly rare and consisted mainly of staged events to rally troops and civilian supporters. International allies of Assad’s regime and of the rebels each stepped up their support, raising the prospect of a regional proxy war. Efforts by Turkey, Saudi Arabia, and Qatar to fund and arm rebels became increasingly public in late 2012 and early 2013 while the Syrian government continued to receive weapons from Iran and the Lebanese militant group Hezbollah. By late 2012 Hezbollah also had begun sending its own fighters into Syria to battle the rebels.
Assad faced new calls for international military action against his government after alleged chemical weapons attacks in the suburbs of Damascus killed hundreds on August 21, 2013. The Syrian opposition accused pro-Assad forces of having carried out the attacks, but Assad denied having used chemical weapons and asserted that, if such weapons had been used, rebel forces were to blame. U.S., British, and French leaders claimed to possess intelligence proving that Assad’s regime had ordered the attacks, and they made it known that they were considering retaliatory strikes. Russia, China, and Iran spoke out against military action, and Assad vowed to fight what he described as Western aggression. The threat of Western military intervention was averted in September when Russia, Syria, and the United States came to an agreement to place all of Syria’s chemical weapons under international control.
Assad’s tactics against the rebels continued to draw international condemnation even when his forces refrained from using chemical weapons. So-called “barrel bombs”—improvised explosives dropped from helicopters and airplanes—were routinely used to devastating effect against military and civilian targets in rebel-held areas even though human rights groups insisted that employment of such indiscriminate weapons constituted a war crime.
As the civil war dragged on, Assad’s hold on power, which had once seemed doubtful, appeared to grow stronger. The emergence of the extremist Islamic State in Iraq and the Levant (ISIL) in eastern Syria and western Iraq in 2013 forced some of the countries that had called for Assad’s removal—including the United States—to refocus their efforts on defeating the new menace. Meanwhile, Russia, which had long provided weapons and political support to Assad, launched its own military action in Syria in 2015, bombarding rebel positions and deploying Russian ground troops in support of government forces. The intervention was largely successful: by the end of 2017, Assad’s dominance in most of Syria’s major cities had been reestablished, and the remaining rebels had been confined to a few isolated pockets of territory. By mid-2018 those pockets had been reduced to the region of Idlib, which Turkish forces had vowed to protect from the Syrian army. Assad initially avoided a confrontation in Idlib but advanced his forces in the spring of 2019 after an organization influenced by the ideology of al-Qaeda had become the dominant force in the region.
Meanwhile, as the conflict was dying down in most of the country, Assad began implementing policies to rebuild Syria. They included projects to build infrastructure and new commercial centres as well as efforts to attract foreign investors. One controversial measure, known as Law 10, allowed the government to seize property if its owners failed to reregister it. The purpose of the law was to allow the development or redistribution of property abandoned during the war by its owners. Many critics noted that the time limit for reclaiming property would disenfranchise many displaced Syrians, who simply could not return in time to reclaim their property, while enabling the government to expropriate property from its opponents en masse and give it to loyalists. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 96 | https://www.facebook.com/HalabTodayTV/videos/%25D9%2583%25D9%2586%25D8%25A7-%25D8%25B9%25D8%25A7%25D9%258A%25D8%25B4%25D9%258A%25D9%2586-%25D9%2583%25D9%258A%25D9%2581-%25D8%25B3%25D9%258A%25D8%25B7%25D8%25B1-%25D8%25AD%25D8%25A7%25D9%2581%25D8%25B8-%25D8%25A7%25D9%2584%25D8%25A3%25D8%25B3%25D8%25AF-%25D8%25B9%25D9%2584%25D9%2589-%25D8%25A7%25D9%2584%25D8%25AC%25D9%258A%25D8%25B4-%25D9%2588%25D8%25B5%25D8%25A8%25D8%25BA%25D9%2587-%25D8%25A8%25D8%25A7%25D9%2584%25D8%25B7%25D8%25A7%25D8%25A6%25D9%2581%25D9%258A%25D8%25A9/5488822034544920/%3Fm_entstream_source%3Dpermalink%26locale%3Dms_MY | en | كنا عايشين - كيف سيطر حافظ الأسد على الجيش وصبغه بالطائفية | [] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | كنا عايشين - كيف سيطر حافظ الأسد على الجيش وصبغه بالطائفية | de | https://static.xx.fbcdn.net/rsrc.php/yT/r/aGT3gskzWBf.ico | https://www.facebook.com/HalabTodayTV/videos/%D9%83%D9%86%D8%A7-%D8%B9%D8%A7%D9%8A%D8%B4%D9%8A%D9%86-%D9%83%D9%8A%D9%81-%D8%B3%D9%8A%D8%B7%D8%B1-%D8%AD%D8%A7%D9%81%D8%B8-%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%A3%D8%B3%D8%AF-%D8%B9%D9%84%D9%89-%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%AC%D9%8A%D8%B4-%D9%88%D8%B5%D8%A8%D8%BA%D9%87-%D8%A8%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%B7%D8%A7%D8%A6%D9%81%D9%8A%D8%A9/5488822034544920/ | ||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 79 | https://www.mei.edu/publications/battle-syrian-charity-giants-asma-al-assad-versus-rami-makhlouf | en | Battle of the Syrian charity giants: Asma al-Assad versus Rami Makhlouf | [
"https://www.mei.edu/themes/mei/images/facebook.svg",
"https://www.mei.edu/themes/mei/images/twitter.svg",
"https://www.mei.edu/themes/mei/images/youtube.svg",
"https://www.mei.edu/themes/mei/images/instagram.svg",
"https://www.mei.edu/themes/mei/images/logo_text.svg",
"https://www.mei.edu/themes/mei/imag... | [] | [] | [
"Syria",
"Assad",
"politics",
"economy"
] | null | [] | 2020-06-09T09:46:00 | Charities are useful fronts for all sorts of activities in Syria, but above all perhaps, they are vehicles of control. The Assads have long understood that the biggest danger to their rule comes from within, from a civil society that rejects their governance — never more so than today. | en | /themes/mei/favicon.ico | Middle East Institute | https://www.mei.edu/publications/battle-syrian-charity-giants-asma-al-assad-versus-rami-makhlouf | Charities are useful fronts for all sorts of activities in Syria, but above all perhaps, they are vehicles of control. The Assads have long understood that the biggest danger to their rule comes from within, from a civil society that rejects their governance — never more so than today. That is why the very term “civil society” has been outlawed since the 1960s, compared by the regime to Zionism and Masonry. Such initiatives in Syria are subject to strict legal supervision, requiring the approval of the security services. An NGO worker is assumed to be a spy. Control of hearts and minds must be done only by the state — hence the omnipresent posters of Bashar with rhyming slogans like Al-Assad lil-Abad, “Assad forever.” The brand must dominate to the point where any alternative becomes unthinkable.
The vehicle of Asma al-Assad’s ambition is Syria Trust for Development, a vast charity network she founded as first lady of Syria in 2001 when no NGOs were permitted to operate, giving it a charity monopoly. Throughout the war its tentacles have been spreading, so that it now controls 15 “community centers” across several governorates. Today her discreet power is on the rise, undaunted, maybe even enhanced, by her year battling breast cancer. Her full recovery was announced in August 2019 and she now appears more determined than ever to secure her legacy. If her son, Hafez, now 19, is to inherit the country ruled by his namesake grandfather for 30 years and by his father for 20 years, she must tighten the Assad grip and see off all challengers, of whom the latest is erstwhile family ally, her cousin by marriage Rami Makhlouf. With the demise of her powerful mother-in-law Anisa Makhlouf in February 2016, the way is clear for Asma to take on the mantel of “Mother of the Syrian regime.” Hence the unfolding Makhlouf Musalsal, or Ramadan soap opera, as Syrians have nicknamed the series of posts on Rami’s Facebook page. Such tantalizing glimpses inside the Assad/Makhlouf secret circle are exceptional in a regime which is in permanent lockdown, with a ruling elite that has been social distancing for decades.
Asma, who worked for top banks like Deutsche and JP Morgan, is a shrewd operator. An accomplished financier, she was about to embark on a Harvard MBA before she married Bashar in 2000, the year he became president. Her carefully crafted, Rose of the Desert persona took a big knock during the war, so now she keeps a lower profile, promoting herself as a “caring” first lady through pictures on Instagram displaying her charitable activities in support of “martyrs’ families.” Image creation is a skill she excels in, learnt well from expensive PR firms like Bell Pottinger whom she employed before the war.
The UNHCR and the UNDP have been partnering with Asma’s Syria Trust for years, handing over millions of dollars. On a trip to Syria in April 2018 organized by a British clergyman, I saw first-hand how some of this money has been spent in Aleppo. Our group was given tours of two new Syria Trust centers, surreal pockets of ultra-modern, high-tech installations amid the devastated wasteland, by immaculate young Assad loyalists fitted out in spanking new uniforms. They handed us brochures called Manarat (“Beacons”), describing how “critical thinking abilities” would be encouraged in children — yet the curriculum remains tightly controlled. The “Life Skills Development” program for over-13s talked of “effective citizenship” and “purposeful contribution.” We were shown a roomful of head-scarved women sitting in front of sewing machines, but no one had thought to provide them with anything to sew. A UNICEF Suggestion Box sat on the reception desk. The women were bussed out as soon as we left. Before the war Syria Trust employees — beautiful children of the elite — roamed the villages in shiny 4WDs dispensing computers. Today its centers dispense programs for “Intellectual Capacity Development” and “Psychological Support.” Molding the future population is vital, essential to the regime’s survival.
A dangerous rival
But Syria Trust has a dangerous rival in the form of maternal cousin Rami Makhlouf’s Al-Bustan Association. It too was awarded direct cash transfers by a UN body — UNICEF — during the war. A Latakia-based charity ostensibly to help support the families of (Alawi) martyrs, it even had its own military wing, closed down by the regime last year.
Social standing matters hugely in Syria. The Makhloufs were from an established clan with lineage, Alawi nobility if you like, and Anisa’s marriage to Hafez was a marriage beneath her, opposed by her father initially. Her higher-class connections and contacts helped him move upwards, facilitating his eventual rise to power. Anisa’s father, a man with powerful business interests in the hilly hinterland of Latakia, the Alawi heartlands, was closely connected to the Syrian Socialist National Party (SSNP), ideologically opposed to Ba’athism. A deal was evidently struck between the two families that the Makhloufs were to be given a free hand in the business dealings of the new Ba’athist regime.
It is a role that Rami Makhlouf, Anisa’s nephew, took on with relish, building himself into the richest man in Syria, worth an estimated $5 billion. His father, Muhammad Makhlouf, Anisa’s brother, grew super-rich as head of the General Organization of Tobacco and director of Real Estate Bank, one of six state-owned banks in Syria. Tobacco trade and smuggling is still a monopoly held by the Alawi elite, and Muhammad, now aged 84, resides today in Moscow.
With a highly profitable business empire that spans telecommunications (mobile phone network Syriatel), real estate, construction, and oil, the Makhloufs have been the financiers of Assad’s army throughout the war, with Rami sometimes described as the “real” finance minister. In the Facebook videos Rami directly addresses his childhood friend Bashar, projecting himself as “wronged, on the side of the loyalists, the hungry, and the poor.” In his latest post on May 28, Rami declared the transfer of his bank and insurance company shares into RAMAK Development and Humanitarian Projects LLC, not a charity despite its name, but a for-profit limited company 99 percent owned by him. He even quotes the Quran to explain how blissful he feels after giving his money away to the needy. Few are fooled, coming from a man whose corruption is legendary — “Makhlouf, you thief” was a common refrain of early protests in 2011, leading him to claim once before that he’d given everything away to charity. Rami himself is now under a travel ban, forbidden to leave the country, at least till he has paid the $250 million the regime wants from him in what they claim are back-taxes.
Rami’s newspaper, Al-Watan (“the Homeland”), Syria’s only paper not owned by the state, has criticized the new elite of Syrian Sunni businessmen like Samer Foz who have come to the fore during the war as the regime’s new bankrollers. It has also railed against the new electronic card system for food distribution recently introduced by the regime, when the company in charge of the card is owned by a relative of Asma al-Assad. Now Rami’s assets have been frozen.
Quite where President Vladimir Putin stands in the battle between Asma and Rami is an unanswered question. But the battle for control of Syria’s assets — as well as hearts and minds — is unquestionably heating up. Russia wants its dividends for supporting the regime through the war and has been signaling displeasure with the Assad regime and its corrupt management of the economy. The regime is rounding on Rami and calling in his debts. Everyone is scrambling for their chunk of the shrinking pie, as Syria’s economy gets ever-smaller, the Syrian lira terminally weakened by the economic crisis engulfing neighboring Lebanon.
But Asma is a force to be reckoned with. “I was here yesterday, I'm here today, and I will be here tomorrow” she once declared, when she needed to prove she was still in Syria and the world’s press speculated she had fled the country. Today there are no such doubts and, barring unforeseen twists and turns in the plot, it seems likely she will emerge in the final episode as the victor in the Makhlouf Musalsal. Rami may soon be packing his bags and joining his father in Moscow or his sons in Dubai.
Diana Darke is a non-resident scholar with MEI's Syria Program and an independent Middle East cultural expert and Syria specialist. She is the author of My House in Damascus: An Inside View of the Syrian Crisis (2016), The Merchant of Syria (2018), and Stealing from the Saracens: How Islamic Architecture Shaped Europe (2020). The views expressed in this piece are her own.
Main photo courtesy of Diana Darke. Mural of President Hafez al-Assad celebrating his achievements with the slogan "Assad Forever" on top, taken in Ghouta, east Damascus after "liberation" by the Assad regime and its Russian allies on April 19, 2018. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 35 | https://www.theguardian.com/theguardian/2010/feb/16/syria | en | Amin al-Hafez obituary | [
"https://sb.scorecardresearch.com/p?c1=2&c2=6035250&cv=2.0&cj=1&cs_ucfr=0&comscorekw=Syria",
"https://i.guim.co.uk/img/static/sys-images/Guardian/Pix/pictures/2010/2/17/1266429404442/Amin-al-Hafez--001.jpg?width=465&dpr=1&s=none"
] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Lawrence Joffe",
"www.theguardian.com",
"lawrence-joffe"
] | 2010-02-16T00:00:00 | <p>Leader of Syria's first Ba'athist regime</p> | en | the Guardian | https://www.theguardian.com/theguardian/2010/feb/16/syria | Amin al-Hafez, who has died aged 88, ruled Syria's first Ba'athist administration with a genial smile and an iron fist during the turbulent years from 1963 to 1966. He was also the last genuine president from that country's Sunni Muslim majority, since his successor was just a Sunni figurehead for two Alawite officers.
Although Hafez cemented Ba'ath party rule over Syria, he was more a military opportunist than a dedicated ideologue. Ultimately his dictatorial tendencies did not prevent his downfall, and his ties to an Israeli spy proved particularly embarrassing. Syria experienced stability, albeit of a nervous sort, only after Hafez al-Assad became president in 1970.
Al-Hafez's first taste of politics came in 1958 as part of a Syrian army delegation that visited Gamal Abdul Nasser, the Egyptian president. The 14 officers beseeched the "hero of Suez" to rescue their coup-ridden nation. The two states duly merged into one United Arab Republic in February that year, and Hafez was posted to Cairo.
Soon formerly enthusiastic Ba'athists grew to loathe Nasser for banning their party and turning Syria into a virtual satrapy. The union crumbled after another Syrian uprising in September 1961, and the resultant secessionist regime banished the troublesome Hafez to Argentina as Syria's military attaché.
Hafez returned to join the Ba'athist-led cabal that toppled Damascus's pro-western government on 8 March 1963, a month after other Ba'athists had taken Iraq. Suddenly allied radicals were steering two of the region's most powerful countries.
While Iraq's Ba'athists were ousted within nine months, in Syria the party's civilian founders cleverly used the bluff Major General Hafez as their military shield. In May 1963 he became interior minister. And after viciously crushing a pro-Egyptian rebellion on 18 July, submachine gun in hand, he was appointed president of the ruling National Council.
Hafez declared a state of emergency that still exists, and nationalised all Arab-owned banks and oil resources. He also improved ties with the Soviets, bankrolled Yasser Arafat's Palestinian Fatah guerrillas, and ordered engineers to divert two rivers that fed Israel's share of the Jordan. The ensuing artillery exchanges across the Israeli-Syrian border almost certainly led to the 1967 six-day war. By then, however, Hafez had been toppled by a bloody coup on 23 February 1966.
Hafez was born in humble circumstances in Aleppo, northern Syria. The son of a policeman, he graduated from Syria's military academy in 1946, the same year French troops left his country. Hafez gravitated towards the secular, anti-imperialist, pan-Arab Ba'ath party after fighting in the 1948 Arab-Israeli war. Yet he remained at heart a Nasserist, and forlornly dreamt of reuniting Syria, Egypt and Iraq – even when his idol called him a fascist.
While in Buenos Aires, Hafez befriended a supposed Lebanese trader named Kamal Amin Thaabet, in reality an Egyptian-born Jewish Mossad agent, Eli Cohen. The spy arrived in Syria in early 1962, a year before Hafez's return, and soon began relaying reports and photographs about Syrian military plans to Israel.
As president, Hafez groomed his friend to be a future defence minister, possibly even his successor. He invited him to banquets, thanked him for giving his wife a $1,000 fur coat and led him on tours of secret Golan Heights fortifications. When Cohen was caught red-handed in January 1965, Hafez personally interrogated him and arrested 500 of his high-placed friends. Brushing aside international pleas for clemency and his own qualms, Hafez ordered Cohen's public execution, by hanging, in Damascus.
Hafez proved as ruthless when he crushed a Sunni uprising in 1964. He authorised the aerial bombing of the Sultan mosque in Hama and awarded himself new titles, including prime minister. But 15 reshuffles from 1963 onwards and numerous army purges eroded his limited support base. Most imprudently, he sacked Salah Jadid, the dynamic leftist general, as chief of staff in September 1965.
In the end, as the historian Sami Moubayed has noted, Hafez fell victim to his stubborn refusal to arbitrate between feuding Ba'ath factions. He seemed startled when Jadid and Assad, of the clandestine Ba'ath military committee, dared to challenge him.
Wounded in a three-hour shootout during their 1966 assault, Hafez was jailed in Damascus's Mazza prison, then spirited away to Lebanon in June 1967, before relocating to Baghdad in 1968. Damascus sentenced Hafez to death, in absentia, in 1971. Yet Saddam Hussein treated him and his fellow exile, Ba'ath founder Michel Aflaq, like royalty. After the fall of Saddam in 2003, Hafez was allowed home. He received a state funeral. He is survived by his wife, Zainab, and their five children. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 3 | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Order_of_Civil_Merit_of_the_Syrian_Arab_Republic | en | Order of Civil Merit of the Syrian Arab Republic | https://en.wikipedia.org/static/favicon/wikipedia.ico | https://en.wikipedia.org/static/favicon/wikipedia.ico | [
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/icons/wikipedia.png",
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/mobile/copyright/wikipedia-wordmark-en.svg",
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/mobile/copyright/wikipedia-tagline-en.svg",
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/2/25/Syrian_Order_of_Civil_Mer... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Contributors to Wikimedia projects"
] | 2012-08-21T04:12:08+00:00 | en | /static/apple-touch/wikipedia.png | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Order_of_Civil_Merit_of_the_Syrian_Arab_Republic | وسام الاستحقاق المدنيTypeState decoration with five regular classesAwarded for"Service to the state or to the 'Arab cause'"CountrySyriaEligibilityCivil ServiceEstablished25 June 1953 | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 76 | https://unfccc.int/climate-action/momentum-for-change/women-for-results/yalla-lets-bike | en | [] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | null | ||||||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 80 | https://www.dissentmagazine.org/article/what-do-syrians-want-islamic-state-war-resistance-assad-regime/ | en | What Do Syrians Want? | [
"https://www.facebook.com/tr?id=552845971584446&ev=PageView&noscript=1",
"https://www.dissentmagazine.org/wp-content/themes/Dissent-Rumors-Mobile/images/logo-dissent-200.png",
"https://www.dissentmagazine.org/wp-content/themes/Dissent-Rumors-Mobile/images/logo-dissent-200.png",
"https://www.dissentmagazine.or... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Michael Walzer",
"Mayanthi Fernando",
"Tom Finn",
"Muhammad Idrees Ahmad"
] | 2016-07-11T04:00:53+00:00 | Five years since the start of the war, reporting on Syria has gone from an upbeat story of the Arab Spring to a tableau of horrors. The horrors are undeniable, but what the story lacks is a chronicle of Syrian resistance. | /favicon.ico | Dissent Magazine | https://www.dissentmagazine.org/article/what-do-syrians-want-islamic-state-war-resistance-assad-regime/ | What Do Syrians Want?
Five years since the start of the war, reporting on Syria has gone from an upbeat story of the Arab Spring to a tableau of horrors. The horrors are undeniable, but what the story lacks is a chronicle of Syrian resistance.
[contentblock id=subscribe]
When the British House Foreign Affairs Committee convened hearings in September 2015 to reassess the government’s Syria policy, it invited seven witnesses to present evidence. The Committee chair, Conservative MP Crispin Blunt, acknowledged “that there have been observations that none of the people who are giving us witness evidence today are actually Syrian.” But this, he explained, was because “the Committee wants to understand all the perspectives in this conflict.”
Syrians, it seems, weren’t the only ones excluded from the hearing—so was irony.
Halfway in, a committee member asked: “What is it that the Syrians want?” The chair, who had ignored public calls to include Syrian witnesses on the panel, seemed intrigued. “What do the Syrians want?” he echoed.
The committee seemed interested in Syrian opinion, but only through the prophylactic medium of a Syrian-free panel. And the composition of the panel ensured that only one type of opinion would be heard.
The star of the proceedings was Patrick Cockburn, the Irish correspondent for the Independent and author of the bestselling The Rise of Islamic State. In articles and public appearances, the controversial journalist has made a case for providing military support not to Syria’s beleaguered opposition but to its murderous regime. Cockburn reiterated the argument before dismissing Syrian civil society as “not really players” and Syrian rebels as mere “jihadi groups” indistinguishable from the Islamic State (per his book, “there is no dividing wall between them and America’s supposedly moderate opposition allies”).
The Syrian voice Cockburn was ventriloquizing might well have been a regime spokesman’s, since few others would present as a lesser evil a state that, according to the Syrian Network for Human Rights, is responsible for 95 percent of civilian deaths, and which the UN Commission of Inquiry on Syria has indicted for “the crimes against humanity of extermination, murder, rape or other forms of sexual violence, torture, imprisonment, enforced disappearance and other inhuman acts.”
But the Conservative-led parliamentary committee wasn’t alone in excluding Syrian voices. Britain’s main antiwar organization, the Stop the War Coalition (StWC—led until recently by Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn), has also denied platforms to Syrians (except on one occasion when, three months after the August 2013 chemical massacre, it invited a close ally of Assad to its “antiwar” conference). Indeed, at a recent conference on Syria, chaired by the radical left-wing MP Diane Abbott, organizers called the police to evict a Syrian who tried to speak from the floor (StWC denies that it called the police). StWC later argued that in supporting a no-fly zone, the Syrians had embraced a “pro-war” position, which disqualified them from an “antiwar” platform. However, at the same event, StWC chair Andrew Murray made a case for providing military support to Assad in the fight against ISIS.
If Syrians haven’t been heard, it’s not for lack of trying. There are compelling voices covering the conflict—reporting, analyzing, prescribing. All are ignored.
Syrians want self-determination, but they are thwarted by a ruthless regime backed by Russian arms and UN vetoes. Western governments are unwilling to act because they see no vital interests at stake in Syria; Western publics are leery because they see everything as a replay of Iraq; both are united in the patronizing, orientalist assumption that the stability of a state is more valuable than the rights of its people. The unfiltered Syrian story is thus an inconvenient one. It is far more comforting to treat Syria as a domestic debate in which right and wrong can be deduced from ideological principles rather than examined facts.
In spite of the erasure, Syrians have strived to ensure that the defective first draft of history does not become the final word. In images and words, they have tried to preserve an unvarnished record of the years of revolution and war. They have been aided in this by the heroic efforts of the Local Coordination Committees (a network of local groups organizing and reporting on civil society activism) and the White Helmets (a volunteer organization providing search, rescue, and medivac services), and by the painstaking record kept by the Violations Documentation Center and the Syrian Network for Human Rights. Fearless citizen journalists have filled the void left by western reporters who, with few exceptions, only return to Syria as regime embeds. (One can see the dismal results in the atrocious journalism of Robert Fisk, Patrick Cockburn, Charles Glass, and Peter Oborne, all of whom have uncritically reproduced the claim that the regime is the main force standing in the way of ISIS.) Collectives such as Raqqa is Being Slaughtered Silently (RBSS) and individuals like Ruqia Hassan, Rami Jarrah, Marwan Hisham, and Naji Jerf have reported at considerable personal risk from regions under the bombs of the regime or the control of the Islamic State (Ruqia Hassan, two RBSS media activists, and Naji Jerf were assassinated by ISIS in 2015).
But if there is no dearth of reportage from Syria, the right to synthesize the data, to shape it into a narrative, and to offer prescriptions is arrogated by Western analysts largely to themselves. (Syrian journalist Hassan Hassan, co-author of the indispensable ISIS: Inside the Army of Terror, is an exception, but only because his focus is mainly on the security aspect of the conflict.) Attention is also paid to Syrians as victims. But rarely are they presented as a people with agency, willing and able to reflect on their plight or to determine their own fate.
This dominant narrative has been challenged in novelist Samar Yazbek’s vivid first-hand reporting in award-winning books such as A Woman in the Crossfire (2012) and The Crossing (2015). Her profile—a woman, a liberal, an Alawite (part of the minority sect to which Assad belongs)—is in itself a powerful rebuke to the reductive narrative of “ancient hatreds” between ethnic groups that everyone from fly-by-night journalists to the president of the United States have tried to impose on the conflict. But it is in British-Syrian writers Robin Yassin-Kassab and Leila Al Shami’s Burning Country: Syrians in Revolution and War (2016) that we find a definitive people’s history of the uprising. The book (earlier drafts of which I had the privilege of reading and commenting on) explains in scrupulous detail the context of the uprising, the aims of the revolution, the regime’s brutal response, the causes of militarization, the rise of the Islamists, and the resilience of Syrian society through repression, war, and exile.
These authors show that the Syrian uprising came about through a confluence of factors. The immediate context was the wave of Arab revolutions across the region; but waters had already been roiled by years of economic privation, environmental catastrophe, and political repression. They write in Burning Country:
In 2000, the state farms were privatised, increasing intensive commercial farming and leading to a wave of peasant evictions. A private banking system was introduced, the foreign exchange regime was liberalised, private investment was encouraged, with key industrial sectors brought under private control, and subsidies—including for food and fuel, a life-line to the poor—were reduced.
But any hope of reform was stifled by “high levels of corruption, nepotism and bureaucratic inertia.” Meanwhile, a 2006 drought increased the strain by forcing masses of farmers to migrate to the cities. By 2011, youth unemployment stood at 48 percent, while 60 percent of the economy was controlled by the president’s cousin Rami Makhlouf, avatar of the regime’s obscene kleptocratic cronyism.
In Syria the room for political dissent was always limited, but where an earlier generation had been cowed by the repression under Hafez Al Assad’s “kingdom of silence” (the regime massacred somewhere between 10,000–40,000 people during a 1982 uprising in Hama), in 2011, 60 percent of the Syrian population was below the age of twenty-four, with no memory of such terror. The Syrian revolution was primarily an uprising of the country’s youth. It was sparked when a group of teenagers were arrested for anti-government graffiti on a wall in Deraa. But the heavy-handed response of a brittle regime, unaccustomed to dissent, created a spiral that soon turned peaceful calls for reform into implacable demands for regime change.
Recognizing its political weakness, the regime drew the opposition into an arena where it had a distinct advantage. By militarizing the conflict, the regime hoped that it would use its superiority in arms to crush the uprising while casting its actions as a “war on terror.” The regime set about engineering this outcome in earnest. Less than three months into the uprising, Human Rights Watch reported that, according to local activists, the regime had already killed 887 protesters across Syria, and 418 in Deraa alone, where the uprising had started in March 2011. In a report that same year, Human Rights Watch concluded that the “systematic killings and torture by Syrian security forces” qualified as “crimes against humanity.” The Free Syrian Army (FSA) wasn’t established until July 2011.
The regime also tried to shape the narrative by playing on Western fear and prejudice. In a speech to the parliament on March 30, 2011—long before there were any jihadis, long before there were any armed men—Assad insisted that he was at war against foreign “conspirators.” At a time when his regime was detaining, torturing, and assassinating civil activists, it fulfilled its prophecy by releasing Islamist radicals from its prisons in a series of amnesties. It hoped that they would become the opposition it wanted by supplanting the one it had, thereby making it easier to win Western sympathy for its own “war on terror.” Under its relentless assault, the Islamist element in the opposition gradually became more dominant. Al Nusra Front, Al Qaeda’s Syrian franchise, was established in January 2012. Although in August 2012 the CIA could count only about 200 Al Qaeda members active in Syria, by fall, Al Nusra Front emerged as a formidable force. This followed a series of sectarian massacres perpetrated by the regime—in Houla, al Qubeir, and Darayya—where the resource-strapped FSA was unable to defend civilians. Controlling their own funding and procurement networks, and not hamstrung by fruitless associations with the West, the Islamists, by contrast, proved resilient and effective.
The popular nonviolent movement for self-determination was slowly driven underground by the attrition of the regime’s tactics of bombings, assassinations, starvation, detention, and torture. But after the August 2013 chemical massacre, even the nationalist element of the insurgency went into eclipse. The regime called Barack Obama’s bluff and deliberately crossed his “red line,” and, as the regime predicted, Obama’s will was found wanting. Syrian civilians felt abandoned and vulnerable; and the groups tainted by their association with the West were discredited. The regime took Western indifference as license to intensify its violence, including further uses of chemical weapons. It used rape systematically as policy; and a report by a team of war crimes investigators documented “industrial scale killing,” with up to 11,000 killed “systematically” in detention. Beginning with the siege of the Yarmouk refugee camp, it also started using starvation systematically as a weapon of war.
A month before the August 2013 chemical attack, the UN had estimated around 100,000 deaths in Syria’s war. It ceased counting four months later, but in August 2015 it produced a revised estimate of 250,000. The Syrian Center for Policy Research, however, estimates that by 2015 the fatalities had reached 470,000. The chemical attack was a turning point. A month after it, the flood of refugees also surged into a tsunami that hasn’t abated since.
It was into this void that the Islamic State descended. With the rebel forces committed to fighting on the frontlines, the Islamic State entered the liberated zones under the guise of proselytizing missionaries, gradually gaining control. After August 2013, it flexed its muscle and started directly targeting anti-Assad rebels. In 2014, it avoided the regime in all but 13 percent of its confrontations. The regime in turn spared it in 94 percent of its attacks. But to the regime’s backers, such distinctions were academic. If the United States was supplying MREs, night-vision goggles, and the occasional TOW (anti-tank missile) to its putative allies, Russia was sending Mi-24 gunships, T-90 tanks, Sukhoi jets, SA-22 missiles, and armed drones. The regime was also receiving support in manpower: Hezbollah militants, Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps troops, international sectarian volunteers, and, since September 2015, the Russian Army and Air Force.
The upbeat story of an Arab Spring had given way to a wintry tale of senseless violence. The Syrian revolution was long since pronounced dead. Western media only focused on the more spectacular aspects of the Islamic State’s brutality. And as the security logic became dominant, some openly started speaking of preserving Assad as the lesser of two evils. Little mention was made of the fact that in January 2014, Syrian rebels had united to drive out the Islamic State from Idlib, Deir al Zour, Aleppo, and around Damascus. And if they had failed to entirely defeat IS, it was because they were constantly being bombed, initially by the regime’s planes and later by the Russian Air Force; and, after the Islamic State seized large caches of arms from the U.S.-supplied Iraqi army in 2014, they were outgunned.
Survival, however, is more than a matter of not dying. And in Syria, society has shown remarkable resilience, despite the constant attrition of barrel bombs, starvation sieges, mass detention, torture, and rape. In liberated areas across the country (and, secretly, in regime and Islamic State–controlled areas) close to 400 local councils have been established, appointed through a form of direct democracy, functioning in practical, non-ideological terms, catering to basic needs such as water, electricity, waste disposal, and healthcare. The latter is no mean feat, since the regime has systematically targeted doctors in a bid to break the recalcitrant population’s will. In March this year, when a sniper killed seventy-year-old Mohammed Khous, the last remaining doctor in the besieged town of Zabadani, and, on April 27, when an airstrike killed Muhammad Wassem Maaz, the last remaining paediatrician in Aleppo, the regime was merely completing a process it had started five years earlier. The UN Commission of Inquiry has accused the regime of the “deliberate destruction of health care infrastructure.” Médecins Sans Frontières has reported 94 strikes on 63 of its medical facilities in 2015 and, according to Physicians for Human Rights, the regime and its allies were responsible for 326 of the 358 attacks on medical facilities and 688 of the 726 medical personnel killed between 2011 and 2016 as of February this year.
None of this was brought up at the House Foreign Affairs Committee hearing. To acknowledge this reality would be to admit the monstrous expedience of a proposed settlement that keeps the author of all these injustices in place. Facts would have also proved fatal to the panel’s smug conclusion that supporting Assad would resolve the refugee crisis. A survey of refugees by the Berlin Social Science Center has shown that the regime’s violence is the primary cause for their flight.
Without the amplification of such fora, however, Syrian voices have proved evanescent. Their pleas, their suffering, and their victories keep running up against a more powerful narrative: the narrative of the “war on terror.” This narrative, conservative and counter-revolutionary, has already become the basis of an “anti-terror” alliance overtly with Russia and covertly with Iran. It was given a boost recently when the regime was reported to have recaptured Palmyra from the Islamic State. Beyond the cover story, however, the force that captured Palmyra comprised mainly of Russian planes, Afghan mercenaries, and Iraqi militias. All the same: Assad was hailed as a liberator not just by Vladimir Putin and Robert Fisk, but by the British Conservative politician (and outgoing London mayor) Boris Johnson. Little mention was made of the fact that the regime had ceded Palmyra to the Islamic State on the advice of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard commander General Qassem Suleimani to focus its resources on the anti-Assad insurgency instead. By contrast, the response to rebels’ recent advances against the Islamic State, including the capture of the strategic town of Al Rai, has been muted. The daily protests in Maarat al Numan against Al Nusra Front have also received little attention despite going on for over a month.
Not so in Syria. The regime resents such victories, and the protesters subvert its preferred narrative of a secular bulwark holding Islamist hordes at bay. The regime and Russia have resumed bombing rebels and civilians in Aleppo and Idlib. Putin, who had earlier withdrawn his fighter jets with much fanfare, has been silently reinforcing his troops with more helicopter gunships. Iran is sending in special forces to reinforce the regime’s dwindling numbers.
But there is one development that is likely to be far more consequential than any of these. Over a century after Kipling exhorted the White Man to pick up his Burden, a hundred years after Sykes-Picot’s disastrous attempt at imperial cartography, a decade after the clumsy foray into political engineering in Iraq, the pallid patriarchs of the United States and Russia are once again conspiring to force an undesired solution on a recalcitrant people. The United States and Russia are drafting a new constitution for Syria, in consultation with the regime, without the consent of the Syrian people. With this, the U.S. government has put itself firmly on the side of counterrevolution.
But if Western states have failed, has Western society fared any better?
Since the partial cessation of hostilities in February, thousands of Syrians in liberated areas have once again been pouring into the streets to demand an end to the regime’s oppressive rule. But having defied the regime, they appear no more willing to submit to Islamist tyranny, fearlessly confronting the radicals of Al Nusra Front. Despite the regime’s savage violence, the revolution appears unvanquished. But where it could surge with the tide of the Arab Spring in 2011, today the revolution stands marooned. At the birth of the uprising, through years of slaughter, and at the moment of resurrection, there has been little civic mobilization in the West in solidarity or in sympathy with the Syrian people. (By contrast, the uprisings in Egypt, Tunisia, Yemen, and Bahrain received considerable support.) In the United States and in Britain, the only marches and public rallies in relation to Syria were organized in September 2013 and November 2015—to protest possible retaliation against the regime for the August 2013 chemical attack and against the Islamic State for the November 2015 terrorist attack on Paris. On neither occasion was Syrian opinion sought; in the former case, many on the mainstream left tried to pin the blame for the atrocity on the regime’s opponents, and few protested the crime itself.
Western civil society wasn’t stirred into action until the body of three-year-old Aylan Kurdi washed up on a Turkish shore. The sympathy that was denied to Syrians as citizens fighting tyranny seemed more forthcoming as depoliticized victims seeking refuge. For four years most progressives had actively embraced, or tacitly internalized, the regime’s portrayal of all its opponents as Islamist terrorists, yet they were suddenly indignant when far-right xenophobes borrowed the same tropes to malign refugees. But in the middle of all this, as Putin intervened in Syria, generating new waves of refugees, many progressives saw no contradiction between their sympathy for refugees and their support (overt or unspoken) for Russia’s intervention.
Syrians have died overwhelmingly at the hands of the regime; they have been detained and tortured en masse by the regime; they have fled primarily because of the regime (the crimes are being better documented than “anywhere since Nuremberg,” according to American lawyer Stephen Rapp). To them, the regime is the root of Syria’s evil. But if, in spite of the facts, the dubious logic of lesser evilism has prevailed, it is because most Syrian people have been written out of their own story. Journalists, activists, intellectuals, politicians, and diplomats have participated in this erasure. Even the sympathetic ones have reported Syria mostly as a tableau of horrors. The horrors are undeniable, but what the story lacks is a chronicle of resistance—resistance against impossible odds, with grace, without hope, and through constant betrayal. Samar Yazbek, Robin Yassin-Kassab, Leila Al Shami, and others have ensured that the answer to “What do Syrians want?” is no longer a mystery.
Muhammad Idrees Ahmad is a Lecturer in Digital Journalism at the University of Stirling. He is writing a book on the war of narratives over Syria. He co-edits Pulsemedia.org.
[contentblock id=subscribe-plain] | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 38 | https://75podcasts.org/episode/1/91/ | en | S1E5: The House of Assad | [
"https://75podcasts.org/images/logo1.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/logo2.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/menu_arrow.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/logo1.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/logo2.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/lang.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/share.svg",... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | <p style='margin-left:0px;'>The violence that Syrians have witnessed and suffered since 2011 did not come out of nowhere - there is a history, a background and a basis to it. And so, if we want to better understand what has happened in the country in the past 11 years, | en | https://75podcasts.org/images/favicon.ico | 75 Podcasts | https://75podcasts.org/episode/1/91 | Kristina Kaghdo: One of the things that really stayed with me until now was how in the beginning of each school year I would go to the stationery shop that was located in my street. And in all stationery shops you could find pictures of the symbol of the party, pictures of the ruling family, namely Hafez al-Assad. Because it was him in power at the time.
And we were supposed to get some of those pictures and glue them into our notebooks and on the covers of our notebooks, namely the Civic Education Notebook. And the Civic Education's a whole different story because it was one hour, 2 hours a week that were dedicated to learning about the power and beauty and how great and amazing the ruling party is. The ruling family, the ruling father - who was Hafez al-Assad at the time.
Fritz Streiff: Kristina Kaghdo is a translator and podcast producer, and she also presents the Arabic series of The Syria Trials. Kristina grew up in the Syrian capital, Damascus.
Kristina: And I remember that we had this teacher who would skip civic education classes. I have no idea why. We used to have something called like an inspection committee. And it's a committee that comes from the Ministry of Education to check on different schools. And I think it was one of the tools of surveillance as well, to make sure that the school looks like and sounds like and behaves like it should. So she would skip those classes, and whenever there was an inspection, she would make us sit for like a couple of days and fill in our Civic Education notebooks with whatever she was writing on the board, without going through it, without really learning it, just to make sure that then when the inspection comes, they can see our notebooks filled. Obviously, I didn't feel comfortable asking, why are we doing this? Because it was an order and we executed orders.
Fritz: It must have been a risk for her, too. I mean, you were just saying how schools were one of the clear institutional examples of where the state surveillance system could really have an impact structurally. And, you know, it's kind of like a small but potentially impactful example of civil disobedience, really.
Kristina: I totally agree, especially that we were 50 kids in class and kids talk. You know, we could just go home and say, you know what we did today? We were filling in our Civic Education notebook with stuff that we haven't learned anything about. And that would definitely be an alarming thing for many parents.
Fritz: Alarming indeed, because by the time Kristina was growing up in the 1990s, Syrians had become used to the cost of disobeying the Assad regime. So far in the series, we've mainly heard about the crimes committed in Syria since 2011 - the violent suppression of the Revolution and the devastation of the ensuing war. But this violence did not come out of nowhere. There's a history, a basis to it. Since the beginning of Assad family rule in 1970, when Hafez al-Assad, Bashar's father, seized power of Syria, the regime had been built upon one key founding principle: eliminate any opposition, any threat to the family's rule, no matter the cost. By the time 2011 came around and huge numbers of Syrians began to call for a change of regime, Bashar al-Assad followed this guiding principle to the letter. Ash-shab yurid isqat an-nizam, the protesters chanted, which means something like “the people want to bring down the regime”. To the Assad family, this was a clear and unacceptable threat to their power. And so in order to really understand the violence and the criminality that has occurred in Syria since 2011, we need to go back to the beginning and uncover how the Assads built a regime with them at the centre and how they have held onto power for over half a century. Welcome to The Syria Trials. Episode Five - The House of Assad.
Ugur Umit Ungor: My name is Ugur Ungor. I'm a sociologist and historian at the University of Amsterdam, and I'm mostly interested in the modern and contemporary history of mass violence, mostly mass violence against civilians.
Fritz: After centuries of occupation by the Ottoman Empire, the modern Syrian state emerged after the end of the First World War.
Ugur: The Ottoman Empire lost the war. So there were a number of states that emerged from it. Syria is one of them. Iraq, Jordan, are of course, others. And then Syria became part of the French mandate. And mandate is basically a fancy word for colonisation. And this is important because in this period from 1923 to 1946, it wasn't Syrians who decided their own fate. If we want to understand some of the practices of the Assad regime later in 1970s, 1980s and up to now, the roots of some of that violence, of course, they stretch back into the Ottoman Empire, but a lot of that violence escalated during the French colonisation of Syria. And then after independence, 1946, Syria saw almost a dozen coup d'états in a period of not longer than maybe a decade, decade and a half. So that political instability also deeply destabilised the society. And then, of course, in the 1960s, the Ba’ath Party seized power. And then in 1970, we have Hafez coup d'état.
Fritz: Hafez al-Assad was amongst a group of Ba’ath supporters in the Syrian army who seized control of Syria in 1963, before seizing power himself in 1970. Hafez was elected President in 1971, the only candidate in the running.
Rime Allaf: Hafez Assad, who was an Air Force officer and a Minister of Defence, took power with a group of his army and Air Force buddies. And, you know, we never got rid of the Assad dynasty. It's been now 52 years, so we've entered the second half century of Assad's rule and they have merely managed to entrench themselves.
My name is Rime Allaf. I'm a Syrian born writer and researcher who's been working on Syria for the greater part of the last 25 years. I would say.
Ugur: What defines really the state and the regime in Syria is the way that it uses violence and the threat of violence against its own citizens as a pillar of its governance, of its functioning.
Rime: Hafez Assad was at the beginning what one might call a benign dictator or so people hoped, because they were a little bit tired of the coups and the counter coups. And he tried to show himself as somebody who was listening to his people at the very beginning. So that's in the early seventies. But very quickly, things disintegrated.
Fritz: After Hafez took power, any other political parties had to come under the umbrella of the National Progressive Front, a political alliance headed by his party, the ruling Ba’ath Party. It was a dangerous game to be politically active outside of this alliance.
Faraj Bayrakdar VO: My name is Faraj Bayrakdar. If arrest and exile were occupations, that means that I have worked for 14 years as a detainee and 17 years as an exile. I hold a university degree in Arabic literature. But I did not have the chance to ever use the certificate. As for poetry, I do not consider it a job, but a hobby.
Fritz: Faraj is a Syrian journalist and award winning poet. He was a young adult in 1970 when Hafez al-Assad became the president of Syria.
Faraj VO: The regime started displaying the maximum possible brutality. Even though I knew I was just a poet, I could not morally and purposefully ignore this anymore. My friends were being killed or they were being locked up in a prison left and right until God knows when. I knew that poetry on its own could not create any change. Collective work had to be done. And so I found myself involved in the Communist Labour Party.
Fritz: The Communist Labour Party operated basically illegally outside of the National Progressive Front Alliance.
Faraj VO: You do not get a whirlwind in a clear sky. There must be a reason for it. Under Hafez al Assad, killing and massacres became normal. Well, not normal, but not a big deal. Assad's predecessors were bad. And he stopped down to the level and to an even lower one with his repression. It turned from bad to worse until he got to the point where he was ready to massacre anyone to protect his throne.
Fritz: Just how far the Assad regime was willing to go to hold on to power. Became shockingly clear in 1982.
Rime: There was a kind of insurrection, you know, a kind of defiance of the Assad regime with the only real political force that was fortifying and making itself visible on the Syrian scene. And that was the Muslim Brotherhood. And that ended in the terrible massacre in Hama in 1982, when Hafez Assad sent his brother, Rifaat Assad, who was the head of the Fourth Division, the army at the time. They entered the old part of Hama. They went from house to house. They took out many leaders of the Muslim Brothers. 30,000 people, if we take that as the most accurate number of people killed, there were not 30,000 Muslim brothers. There were civilians, there were women, there were children. There were doctors and teachers and professors. And the artillery bombed its way through Hama. The city was demolished. It was raised and rebuilt. Syrians understood the message very well. Any defiance of the regime would be brutally, violently repressed. That was the Assad regime's sign to the people. You stay quiet, you show us docility and we will not bother you. But if you even dream that any other system is even allowed, you are wrong.
Kristina: It's a very interesting case to talk about because what happened in Hama stayed with people for generations. After the Revolution started, I realised that a lot of people went onto the streets because they felt like they didn't want to be those bystanders that their parents were during the massacre in Hama. They felt like they wanted to be on the right side of history. And I found it truly amazing because people from very different backgrounds have been mentioning this as one of the motivations to actually go on the streets. It felt like there's this deep sense of guilt that they wanted to wash.
Fritz: Hearing this from you now only makes it more concrete to me, why it's such an incredibly, you know, really dumb failure of justice. The justice system in this case of the French, to let go of Rifaat al-Assad, the uncle of the current President who was in charge at the time of the Army operation against Hama. And who was in Paris and had multiple cases against him, but one criminal case. And was able to flee the country, was able to return to Syria and is now out of the reach of the French justice system. And there was also a case pending in Switzerland against him. Still is. And the likelihood that that will lead to actual justice is now extremely low. While when he was still in Paris, it could have been done. I think it's an example of how a significance of a certain case can be so underestimated by international legal systems that don't have a good grip on the cultural context of the case.
Rime: Hafez Assad depended on his family and Rifaat Assad himself was very enamoured with, you know, being in a position of power. And in fact, that's what led to his downfall. Because when Hafez Assad became quite ill in the mid-eighties, Rifaat Assad attempted to take power. And that did not succeed. And they made a deal that he said, okay, you know, you leave Syria immediately.
Fritz: Which is how Rifaat happened to be in France in the first place, within the reaches of the French justice system.
Ugur: If we take a look at the structure of the regime, of the Assad regime since 1970, and we focus only on people with the last name Assad, then there are a significant number of people who are in very influential positions. Starting, of course, with Hafez Assad, who appointed his own brother, Rifaat Assad as Head of the Praetorian Guard, head of the Defence Brigades in the 1970s. That's not nothing. And in many other societies you wouldn't be able to do that. You know, you can't appoint a first degree family member to a highly influential military or paramilitary position. But he could and he did. And that, of course, then led to the kind of the growth or the development of the power of the family inside the, especially the security forces, the intelligence agencies, the army, the elite troops. This is where the Assad family built their power base, including, of course, the in-laws. So Assad's mother is from the Makhlouf family. The Makhlouf family, too, was and remains in Syria, a deeply influential family. There is a disproportionate number of people from these two families, from Assad and Makhlouf that are in exceptionally sensitive and powerful positions. And that was the case since the 1970s.
Rime: You know, the Assads have often been described as a family in power. But I think that is a little bit too simplistic, to put it that way, because it became much more than a family. So you can describe it as clan, as a clique, and there were others, and they happened to be people that Hafez Assad trusted. They happen to be part of the Alawite community, it’s a small community in Syria. But Hafez Assad did build a lot of the army and the intelligence, the officers came from there. It really is a pyramid of power. You had the Ba’ath indoctrinating young Syrians from school onwards and young Syrians learned very quickly that if you wanted to be part of anything and have any of the fringe benefits of being openly loyal to the regime, well, you know, you became an active member of the Ba’ath Party.
Fritz: The Assads knew that in order to maintain their rule, they could not only rely on indoctrination and placing family members and trusted allies in top positions. Anyone could turn on you as Rifaat’s bid for power had shown Hafez. More pillars of power were needed to keep the Assad regime standing. And so, as with many authoritarian regimes, the intelligence system came to play a key role in Syria. The Syrian intelligence system is more commonly referred to by its shorthand the mukhabarat. The mukhabarat held and holds its tentacles tight around Syrian society.
Rime: Of course, the intelligence branches, their main role was to terrify the population. The fear of any Syrian. You know, when you hear the word “al amen”, which is the security, you're terrified and you begin to rethink, you know, everything you've done and said and, you know, did you make a faux pas and did you dare to provoke anyone?
Ugur: There are four major intelligence agencies, Military Intelligence, Air Force Intelligence, Political Security and the State Security, in order of influence. And the Branch, in Syrian Arabic, the “fera”, is generally a grim grey building in the middle of the city where everybody walks around and nobody even dares to look at. It is a building that often is a couple of stories above ground, for the administration staff who work there. Sometimes the archives of the Branch. And then under the ground very often three or four or five stories under the ground, there are the cells. In the cells, that's exactly where they keep individuals that they have arrested. And very often, the torture chamber also is under the ground. So these four agencies - sometimes do work together, but sometimes they also compete - they are like a vacuum cleaner. So the way that they go into Syrian society and extract people from that society on whatever grounds. Maybe you posted something on Facebook against the regime. Maybe you wanted to set up a political party, basically any, or maybe it’s a completely random reason, maybe you didn't do anything. As soon as that happens, the intelligence agencies, they extract you from society. They take you to the Branch. They torture you there. You stay there sometimes a couple of days, sometimes weeks, sometimes months. And then after that, you are either released or you are processed and sent to the next phase, which is often ending up in the second dimension of the gulag, which is one of the three major prison camps.
Fritz: In 1976, Faraj Bayrakdar was spending some time back home in Syria after studying in Budapest on a scholarship from the Syrian Ministry of Higher Education.
Faraj VO: During that time, Syria invaded Lebanon and my stance was clear and public. I was against the Syrian invasion. They took their revenge on me by cancelling my scholarship and dragging me into the military. During my first referendum in the military in 1978 I said no to Hafez al Assad and so I was arrested by the Air Force Intelligence Directorate. I was completely cut off from everything for four and a half months and then eventually I was released. Because they could not pinpoint anything on me, they let me go. But then on my second day of freedom, I was arrested again by the internal branch of the State Security Intelligence. I was not for a long time, though. My third arrest occurred later by the Military Intelligence Directorate. This was my longest arrest. I was locked up for 14 continuous years. For the first six and a half years, I was completely isolated from the outside world. I was not allowed any visitors, and my family did not know anything about me or who I was with.
Fritz: Faraj continued to compose poetry throughout his detention, using any tools available. After an international campaign on his behalf, he was finally released from prison in 2000, during a brief period of political respite known as the Damascus Spring.
Ugur: In Syria imprisonment by the mukhabarat, and a journey through the prison system is what people fear the most. It spreads fear and spreads terror. It spreads trauma for those people who have suffered the violence in the prisons, who were tortured and released. But even people who haven't, you know, also people who, for example, have nothing to fear, even ifvthey also think, they know that this country has in every city a couple of these intelligence branches. They know that people are under the ground and being tortured, and they know that they will have to behave in a way that will avoid them landing in one of these torture chambers. So the regime and its prison system are like a finger and a nail. They're so grown and they've kind of welded together that it's going to be very difficult to extricate these two.
Kristina: In Syria, we had the saying that “Elhitan laha athan” that “walls have ears”. And I've been brought up with this notion. And it was something that was just implicit that whatever you hear at home, you can never, ever repeat it outside. Do not dare, because it's dangerous. What I remember thinking back then is that but well, it means that people are not safe, that the world is not a safe place to be. And obviously, it created a lot of problematic connections with trust and perceiving others and perceiving myself with others. And until now, I'm working on, you know, this capacity to trust the world, that the world can bring a lot of good things and that not every person has some evil plan to destroy you. And obviously I'm exaggerating now a little bit, but it's just to show that the impact of such very tiny things, like small expressions that keep being repeated to you day after day, year after year, how much they really shape you from within as a human being within a society.
Fritz: I would be interested to hear from you having first grown up under Assad senior, Hafez, and then growing into the age where his son Bashar Assad took over. Do you remember that time when that happened?
Kristina: I remember the day when Hafez al-Assad died. Maybe an important contextual information is that Hafez used to be called the eternal or the “khaled” . So obviously what that means is that he's going to be there forever. That's what a child understands, and that's what it was in my head. When Hafez al Assad died, I was visiting my mother's family in Lithuania, and I remember they had this very big TV and I was standing in front of it hearing the news that Hafez al Assad, the President of Syria, died. And I remember thinking that this is the end of the world now, because what will happen to the country? I mean, he was supposed to be there forever. Okay. Now he's not going to be there anymore. And I remember spending that summer away and then coming back to Syria. And I could hear a lot of adults in my surroundings talking about the fact that Bashar al Assad is coming into power and that he was different, that he was young, that he was educated. You know, these very cliché things that were said about and still are said about Bashar al Assad.
Rime: I was there the day Hafez Assad died. I was there when Bashar Assad came to power. I knew, like most Syrians, that there was no other option than Bashar Assad. The original heir was Bassel Assad, who was, you know, the eldest son of Hafez Assad and who everyone understood was being groomed for power. He was killed in a car crash in January 1994. And Bashar Assad, who nobody ever had thought about, was beginning his studies in the UK and was brought back. So we all understood by seeing Bashar Assad being suddenly promoted to very high ranks in the army and suddenly becoming active and appearing in the media and only in the Syrian media, of course - we all understood that, you know, this was going to be the future leader.
Rime: At the beginning, in the first few months of Bashar Assad's reign, and I always call it reign. There was a lot of positivity for a lot of Syrians, not from me, but from a lot of Syrians who dared to hope against hope that, you know, finally this was our time. Syrians finally were going to live a better life. Nobody imagined that it was going to be like living in Switzerland or, you know, or the EU or the U.S.. No, everybody was you know, we know how things work. But they hope that it would be like a different Arab country where they also had dictatorships, but where daily life was easy. This was the hope that Syrians had with Bashar Assad. And very quickly, it became clear that even that was absolutely not to be even imagined for most of them.
Bashar Assad from very early on, it was clear that he had a very, very huge ego. Not that Hafez Assad was by any means somebody who was modest. But Hafez Assad, you know, ruled the old way. Bashar Assad wanted to be everything at the same time, he wanted to be the modern, cool guy with a, you know, educated Western wife. He was young, like, you know, a number of the new young rulers in the region. And he wanted to be admired.
Fritz: From Sam Dagher’s book “Assad or We Burn the Country”.
VO: Bashar craved the rewards of engagement with the West, but also fully embraced Iran, Hezbollah and the so-called axis of resistance against the West. He was the moderate Muslim and protector of Christians and minorities, but also the one who mobilised Islamist extremists when it suited him and his regime. He urged the mukhabarat to be less intrusive, but also expected them to crush any hint of threat to his power. He wanted to be seen as legitimately elected and a non-sectarian president for all Syrians, but accepted the reality that his survival depended on his clan and sect. Core elements of the system bequeathed to him by Hafez.
Fritz: And then came 2011. With the violent suppression of the peaceful Revolution and the ensuing war in Syria, Bashar reused his father's playbook with its central tenant: you do anything to hold onto power.
Bashar archive clip
Rime: You know that the expression “Assad or we burn the country” was created by the loyalists from the beginning. In Arabic it’s “Al Assad aw nahrek al balad”. That was reminding them that you know that we will do anything and the country be damned. We will burn the country in order to keep Assad. Well, in the end it was Assad and we burn the country.
Kristina: Often, especially in the first two years of the revolution, I would not be able to sleep at night thinking, what is Bashar thinking at the moment? What does he do in his day to day life? How does he wake up and decide that today I'm going to kill people who are saying no to me, who dare to have an idea of a different society and a different country, that doesn't include me in the picture. What does that mean? Because often we think about Bashar and all the people in power as very distant creatures, as if they were not human beings. But they are human beings with their fears and their will to prove things. One of my theories is that, you know, Bashar has been trying to prove to his mother that he's worthy of power, just like his father was. It might be as simple as that, but it was always considered the least powerful or the least potentially powerful member of the family. And, you know, one day he has power. And then there is his mother who's saying, you know, you need to be a man, man up, you know, live up to the responsibility that your father has left you with. It might be as simple as that, but of course, with a lot and a lot of other layers, I think these are really important questions to ask if you really want to understand the nature of violence that has been happening in the country.
Fritz: You know, one of the family layers that definitely we know now played a huge role next to Bashar’s mother is his brother Maher, who as maybe the most important figure in the army, has played a huge role in actually executing a lot of the violence. Right. So that maybe also enabled Bashar to at least sort of keep up this face of the more civil, the more emotional, the more sensitive face of this criminal regime. So if we talk about violence as important factors of how this regime has been able to stay in power. Another one that we definitely shouldn't forget is the response or lack of response to incredibly violent actions such as the chemical attacks of 21st of August 2013 on the suburbs of Damascus. That kind of attack will 100% come from the absolute highest top of the hierarchy of responsibility. Something like that will not be decided by a low level commander, except in the unlikely, very unlikely event that it was an accident, which the evidence does not point to at all. So that was a decision made to execute this attack. I think, at that moment, Bashar al-Assad and his inner circle realised that they can go really far with the violence that they were ready to employ in order to stay in power. We're now in 2022 and the methods have worked. The regime is in power. Not going anywhere.
Kristina: I really think that all these years of Assad's rule were basically a constant struggle between the people of Syria, to whom this land belongs, and one family. And it's crazy when you look at it in that very simplistic way, like it's a whole people versus a family.
Faraj VO: The responsibility for mine and everyone else's arrest lies with no one other than the Assad regime. Its prison system was not well known during our time. Some people even questioned our opposition. No one does now. Assad's dirty laundry is out in the open.
Fritz: One of the, I think, main reasons why so many people that we work with that we've we've heard from also, the absolute top priority and overarching goal of this whole effort for justice and accountability for Syria is to have Bashar al Assad and the inner circle on trial. That's the ultimate goal.
Rime: I think most Syrians, even though they do not dare to say it anymore, know that there can be no justice as long as the perpetrators of these crimes against humanity remain in power and remain free because it just teaches everybody else, even if we were to turn a blind eye to that, I think it just teaches everybody else that you take the expression in the literal form that you know you can get away with murder.
Faraj VO: The regime is ultimately a hellish machine that crushes everyone in its way. I believe it will crush the largest head as well. The same hellish machine will crush Bashar al Assad. But for now, it seems it will happen later rather than sooner.
Fritz: It is theoretically possible that at some point Bashar's own regime could turn on him and arrest him. They could then either put him on trial in Syria or extradite him to stand trial at the ICC or at a specialised tribunal for Syria. Although neither of these are options at the moment. It could happen, but for now, the more likely scenario is that Bashar will stay in power and as a serving head of state, he enjoys immunity from national prosecution, which means another country's legal system cannot prosecute him in their courts. Even if he may be holding onto his presidency through illegal means, even if his regime is a dictatorship, as long as he is the president of Syria, Bashar al Assad is pretty much untouchable. But despite the complications to hold the highest ranking regime members accountable, those working in the justice and accountability space are trying to get as close to the top as possible. One example is the chemical weapons case we heard about last episode. Other examples are the arrest warrants against Jamil Hassan and Ali Mamlouk, the former head of the Air Force Intelligence Directorate and the former head of the National Security Bureau. And then there is an interesting case that barrister Toby Cadman is working on against Asma al Assad, Bashar's wife.
Asma al Assad Archive clip
Toby Cadman: It came out as a result of trying to identify ways in which accountability can be pursued. One of the areas that we looked at was those individuals that were either encouraging, inciting or glorifying acts of atrocity crimes. And so we started to look at the role of the first lady, Asma Assad, as a British national. She was born in the United Kingdom. Her parents live there, in West London. That's where she met Bashar. And she's a dual British-Syrian national. I don't want to see her stripped of her citizenship. I want her to go to prison for the rest of her life for crimes that we say that she has committed.
Asma al Assad Archive Clip
Toby: What we had argued is what's called conventional offences. So chemical weapons is a particular category of convention offences and it's all to do with encouragement, incitement into those acts. So we started to look into conduct that she had been involved with as a result of being the First Lady, where she had met members of the military who had subsequently carried out chemical weapons attacks and where there had been statements of glorification as to the military's conduct in carrying out bombardment and, again, chemical weapons attacks. So these are all matters that are within the jurisdiction of English law. The finding was made last year, 2021. Additional evidence has been provided and we continue to investigate. The challenge is going to be if the Crown Prosecution Service that has jurisdiction to prosecute, if they consider that there's a sufficient evidential basis to prosecute, of course we need to get her before an English court. And, you know, I'm aware of the challenges of that, but I'm also confident and hopeful that one day there'll be a Syria without Bashar and Asma Assad at the helm. And they may leave the country at some point. And then they will be arrested, and hopefully brought before an English court.
Fritz: Despite the stories and the evidence, the cases and the trials, the Assad regime is not only still in power in Syria, it almost appears to be making a slow return to international politics. Paul Conroy is a war photographer who was in Homs with his colleague, the war correspondent Marie Colvin in 2012. The makeshift media centre they were staying in was attacked by the regime, killing Marie and others, although the regime denies it was involved. This is from a testimony Paul gave this year in 2022 at the People's Tribunal for the Murder of Journalists.
Paul Conroy archive: There's this creeping rehabilitation of this murderous regime back into the international community as if, you know collective amnesia is coming over the world and we're going, Oh, well, maybe they're not so bad. You know, maybe we could do business. Damn right he’s bad. They are murderous animals and they should not be rehabilitated by anybody into any international bodies organisations. They should be where they belong with the Russians as outcasts and pariahs until they stop the killing and they acknowledge the killing. And there's justice for the people who were killed. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 74 | https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Hafez_al-Assad | en | Category:Hafez al | [
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/ba/Hafez_al_Assad_portrait.jpg/230px-Hafez_al_Assad_portrait.jpg",
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/80/Wikipedia-logo-v2.svg/16px-Wikipedia-logo-v2.svg.png",
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/fa/Wikiquote-logo.s... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | en | /static/apple-touch/commons.png | https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Hafez_al-Assad | Subcategories
This category has the following 3 subcategories, out of 3 total.
Pages in category "Hafez al-Assad"
This category contains only the following page. | ||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 82 | https://rusi.org/explore-our-research/publications/commentary/syrian-revolution-story-politics-not-climate-change | en | The Syrian Revolution: A Story of Politics, not Climate Change | [
"https://rusi.org/static/308c9656dc6079f23b326139d0121d09/71bf5/rusi-primary-logo-single-purple.png",
"https://rusi.org/static/308c9656dc6079f23b326139d0121d09/71bf5/rusi-primary-logo-single-purple.png",
"https://rusi.org/static/308c9656dc6079f23b326139d0121d09/71bf5/rusi-primary-logo-single-purple.png",
"htt... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | Climate change didnât trigger the 2011 Syrian Revolution, elite ideology and government policy did. | en | /favicon-32x32.png?v=0ffd3fafcafb82b941a238660cf259ea | https://rusi.orghttps://rusi.org | When little Aylan tragically drowned on the shores of Turkey, the Canadian National Observer proclaimed: âthis is what a climate refugee looks likeâ. Academic and policy debates have conflated the drivers of climate change and conflict, warning policymakers about the violent effects of drought, famine and migration. As Syriaâs 2011 Arab Spring uprisings devolved into conflict following brutal repression by the regime of Bashar al-Assad, the country became a showcase for âclimate-inducedâ displacement and unrest. To some, climate change caused a major drought in Syria from 2006â2010; the drought caused agricultural failure in the countryâs breadbasket region in the northeast; and agricultural failure caused poverty, migration and discontent â ultimately culminating in the uprisings. Yet droughts have plagued the country for decades. Why 2011 and not before?
I investigated the origins of the Syrian conflict by examining the countryâs climatic vulnerability and its politics surrounding water, land and infrastructure. First, my research shows the combined effects of climate change, drought and massive migration by rural communities in northeast Syria did not produce the protests. Unemployed farmers â the biggest casualties of the drought â were not the instigators of the 2011 uprisings. Second, the seeds of discontent were planted by unsustainable government practices and structural inequalities, which aggravated poverty and food insecurity. I analysed official records as well as debates between domestic experts engaged in 2005â2010 within the Syrian Association for Economic Sciences â the powerful voices of insiders often disregarded by foreign analysts in discussions about Syria. I also carried out interviews with local experts, refugees, activists and dissidents under conditions of anonymity.
Syria experienced two severe droughts in the 21st century which led to temperature increases and decreased rainfall. A longitudinal analysis shows that the environmental effects of the 1998â2001 drought (Drought I) were more severe than the 2006â2010 drought (Drought II). During Drought I, temperatures increased by a yearly average of 5.07%, impacting soil moisture levels. Drought II only averaged a 3.93% temperature increase from pre-drought years. A similar discrepancy is reflected when comparing the variability and mean of precipitation levels between the two droughts. The second droughtâs larger impact on food and water insecurity must therefore be traced as a function of political and economic factors.
Ideology Shaped Water and Land Use
Climate impacts are filtered through political structure â composed of ideology, state institutions, and policy â which shape how individuals and communities experience water and food insecurity. In Syria, ideologies such as Baâathism, the personality cult of Hafez al-Assad, and economic liberalisation under Bashar al-Assad interacted with state power to initiate agrarian reforms that deprioritised environmental conservation. Baâathist ideology from the 1960s through to the 1980s was grounded in pan-Arab socialism, but with the worsening domestic economic situation in the 1990s and 2000s, the regime adjusted its ideological grounding to focus on increasing economic yields, mainly to the benefit of urban centres. The discourse surrounding these projects conflated water and food autonomy with political power and legitimacy, later amplified by propaganda under Hafez al-Assad that highlighted the leaderâs peasant origins.
In line with these ideological imperatives, large and aggressive irrigation projects and agricultural reforms were the order of the day. As a result, the countryâs water resources were subject to poor management, while subsidies were awarded to fuel, water and food and other âstrategic cropsâ deemed vital for national security. For a well-known Syrian water engineer I interviewed, the government made a huge mistake when it prioritised highly consumptive crops such as cotton. The construction of the massive Taqba Dam on the Euphrates also led in 1973 to the evacuation â sometimes forced â of 60,000 inhabitants from 43 villages submerged by the reservoir, the majority of whom were never fully reintegrated into the agrarian economy.
Seeking to Arabise the northeast along Baâathist ideals, the Arab Encirclement Plan led to the forced settlement of some of the displaced Arab farmers from the Euphrates region into the Kurdish-populated provinces of the northeast â which later unilaterally declared the formation of an autonomous republic of Western Kurdistan/Rojava in 2012. Already excluded from citizenship, Syrian Kurds in the Hassake province were deprived of the gains of the âAgrarian Revolutionâ through successive land tenure reforms enacted between the 1960s and 2000s.
After Bashar al-Assad took power in 2000, the regime ramped up its commitment to neoliberal policies at the behest of the World Bank and the IMF, unveiling a âSocial Market Economyâ, with drastic consequences for the economic and social resilience of rural populations. Inspired by Germanyâs model of post-war recovery, the new ideology promoted privatisation, the retreat of the welfare state, and urban economic development over the rural social contracts of the Baâathist era.
Bad Policy Exacerbated the Urban-Rural Divide
The uneven transition from Baâathist socialism to the âSocial Market Economyâ shaped the vulnerability of the Syrian northeast. The Baâathist infrastructure legacy combined with bureaucratic corruption led to failing irrigation plans, widespread illegal well digging, groundwater overconsumption and soil deterioration. In the words of Yassin Haj-Saleh, in discussion with the author, âSyrians have become dependent on âVitamin Wâ [for wasta, bribe]. It is required for everythingâ.
Local experts also argue that the vestiges of Baâathism left rural populations in the northeast heavily dependent on government land schemes and food purchasing programmes, which the state abandoned too abruptly after 2005 as it shifted priorities in the neoliberal era at the worst possible time â in the middle of a drought.
Drought II destroyed the livelihood of over 50% of farmers nationwide, of whom close to 500,000 lived in Hassake, 155,000 in Raqqa, and 41,000 in Deir ez-Zor. Drought II, however, saw different patterns of migration: in the past, individual family members would leave their hometown to find jobs elsewhere while the bulk of the family stayed behind, but with Drought II, suddenly the exodus involved the entire extended family. The total was estimated to be between 370,000 and 460,000 individuals. According to local sources, roughly 38% of the population had emigrated by 2010.
The Conflictâs Environmental Footprint
The war intensified disparities and patterns of human insecurity, decimating Syriaâs agriculture. The sector has shrunk more than 40% since 2011. Damage inflicted by the government and foreign powersâ airstrikes to water and wastewater treatment infrastructure, combined with a lack of maintenance, resulted in a 50% decrease in access to safe water. The conflict also paved the way for lucrative war economies, in which pro- and anti-regime elites carried out smuggling and extortion rackets in exchange for the supply of food, water and fuel to local populations.
No words convey more eloquently the feelings of environmental and social injustice behind the 2011 Syrian uprisings than those expressed by an anonymous local expert: âI defy anyone to claim that the displaced populations triggered unrest. We Syrians have always lived in arid areas, and climate variability has been historically high. The problem was not about climate change but about the mistakes made by the government. There was no transparency in food-security policies, ideological paralysis, heightened corruption, and the relevant ministries did not recognise their mistakes. No one dared to say anything out of fear. The main triggers of the Revolution were corruption, lack of justice, and the mistakes made in the governmentâs development plansâ.
The views expressed in this Commentary are the authorâs, and do not represent those of RUSI or any other institution.
Have an idea for a Commentary youâd like to write for us? Send a short pitch to commentaries@rusi.org and weâll get back to you if it fits into our research interests. Full guidelines for contributors can be found here. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 43 | https://www.cia.gov/the-world-factbook/countries/syria/ | en | Instagram | [
"https://www.cia.gov/the-world-factbook/static/e2503a715fc16c41fef4e0aca680526f/35886/SY_001_large.jpg",
"https://www.cia.gov/the-world-factbook/static/e2503a715fc16c41fef4e0aca680526f/35886/SY_001_large.jpg",
"https://www.cia.gov/the-world-factbook/static/14323b28671effa52b53374bd44e0a4f/b3bdd/SY-flag.jpg",
... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | /the-world-factbook/favicon-32x32.png?v=c3853bf09f084a8b1f66c6c2685054a1 | null | Background
After World War I, France acquired a mandate over the northern portion of the former Ottoman Empire province of Syria. The French administered the area until granting it independence in 1946. The new country lacked political stability and experienced a series of military coups. Syria united with Egypt in 1958 to form the United Arab Republic. In 1961, the two entities separated, and the Syrian Arab Republic was reestablished. In the 1967 Arab-Israeli War, Syria lost control of the Golan Heights region to Israel. During the 1990s, Syria and Israel held occasional, albeit unsuccessful, peace talks over its return. In 1970, Hafiz al-ASAD, a member of the socialist Ba'ath Party and the minority Alawi sect, seized power in a bloodless coup and brought political stability to the country. Following the death of al-ASAD, his son, Bashar al-ASAD, was approved as president by popular referendum in 2000. Syrian troops that were stationed in Lebanon since 1976 in an ostensible peacekeeping role were withdrawn in 2005. During the 2006 conflict between Israel and Hizballah, Syria placed its military forces on alert but did not intervene directly on behalf of its ally Hizballah. In 2007, Bashar al-ASAD's second term as president was again approved in a referendum.
In the wake of major uprisings elsewhere in the region, antigovernment protests broke out in the southern province of Dar'a in 2011. Protesters called for the legalization of political parties, the removal of corrupt local officials, and the repeal of the restrictive Emergency Law allowing arrests without charge. Demonstrations and violent unrest spread across Syria, and the government responded with concessions, but also with military force and detentions that led to extended clashes and eventually civil war. International pressure on the Syrian Government intensified after 2011, as the Arab League, the EU, Turkey, and the US expanded economic sanctions against the ASAD regime and those entities that supported it. In 2012, more than 130 countries recognized the Syrian National Coalition as the sole legitimate representative of the Syrian people. In 2015, Russia launched a military intervention on behalf of the ASAD regime, and domestic and foreign-government-aligned forces recaptured swaths of territory from opposition forces. With foreign support, the regime continued to periodically regain opposition-held territory until 2020, when Turkish firepower halted a regime advance and forced a stalemate between regime and opposition forces. The government lacks territorial control over much of the northeastern part of the country, which the predominantly Kurdish Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) hold, and a smaller area dominated by Turkey.
Since 2016, Turkey has conducted three large-scale military operations to capture territory along Syria's northern border. Some opposition forces organized under the Turkish-backed Syrian National Army and Turkish forces have maintained control of northwestern Syria along the Turkish border with the Afrin area of Aleppo Province since 2018. The violent extremist organization Hayâat Tahrir al-Sham (formerly the Nusrah Front) emerged in 2017 as the predominant opposition force in Idlib Province, and still dominates an area also hosting Turkish forces. Negotiations have failed to produce a resolution to the conflict, and the UN estimated in 2022 that at least 306,000 people have died during the civil war. Approximately 6.7 million Syrians were internally displaced as of 2022, and 14.6 million people were in need of humanitarian assistance across the country. An additional 5.6 million Syrians were registered refugees in Turkey, Jordan, Iraq, Egypt, and North Africa. The conflict in Syria remains one of the two largest displacement crises worldwide (the other is the full-scale invasion of Ukraine).
Telecommunication systems
general assessment: the years of civil war and destruction to infrastructure continue to have a toll on the telecoms sector in Syria; although over the years the major mobile service providers have endeavored to restore and rebuild damaged networks, the operating environment has been difficult; following disputed demands for back taxes, MTN Group in August 2021 exited the country, after its majority stake had been transferred to judicial guardianship; this effectively meant that the mobile market became a monopoly; in February 2022 the regulator awarded a third mobile license following a process which had been ongoing for many years; telecommunication services in Syria are highly regulated; although urban areas can make use of the network built and maintained by the government-owned incumbent, many under served remote areas in the countryside are obliged to rely on satellite communications; the domestic and international fixed-line markets in Syria remain the monopoly of the STE, despite several initiatives over the years aimed at liberalizing the market; mobile broadband penetration in Syria is still quite low, despite quite a high population coverage of 3G networks and some deployment of LTE infrastructure; this may provide potential opportunities for growth once infrastructure and economic reconstruction efforts make headway, and civil issues subside (2022)
domestic: the number of fixed-line connections is 13 per 100; mobile-cellular service is 80 per 100 persons (2021)
international: country code - 963; landing points for the Aletar, BERYTAR and UGART submarine cable connections to Egypt, Lebanon, and Cyprus; satellite earth stations - 1 Intelsat (Indian Ocean) and 1 Intersputnik (Atlantic Ocean region); coaxial cable and microwave radio relay to Iraq, Jordan, Lebanon, and Turkey; participant in Medarabtel (2019)
Military - note
the UN Disengagement Observer Force (UNDOF) has operated in the Golan between Israel and Syria since 1974 to monitor the ceasefire following the 1973 Arab-Israeli War and supervise the areas of separation between the two countries; UNDOF has about 1,000 personnelÂ
multiple actors are conducting military operations in Syria in support of the ASAD government or Syrian opposition forces, as well in pursuit of their own security goals, such as counterterrorism and border security; operations have included air strikes, direct ground combat, and sponsoring proxy forces, as well as providing non-lethal military support, including advisors, technicians, arms and equipment, funding, intelligence, and training:
pro-ASAD elements operating in Syria have included the Syrian Arab Army, Lebanese Hizbollah, Iranian, Iranian-backed Shia militia, and Russian forces; since early in the civil war, the ASAD government has relied on Lebanese Hizballah (see Appendix T for further information), as well as Iran and Iranian-backed irregular forces, for combat operations and to hold territory; since 2011, Iran has provided military advisors and combat troops from the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps (including the Qods Force; see Appendix T for further information), as well as intelligence, logistical, material, technical, and financial support; it has funded, trained, equipped, and led Shia militia/paramilitary units comprised of both Syrian and non-Syrian personnel, primarily from Afghanistan, Iraq, and Pakistan; Russia intervened at the request of the ASAD government in 2015 and has since provided air support, special operations forces, military advisors, private military contractors, training, arms, and equipment; Iranian and Russian support has also included assisting Syria in combating the Islamic State of Iraq and ash-Sham (ISIS; see Appendix T) terrorist group
Turkey has intervened militarily several times since 2016 to combat Kurdish militants and ISIS, support select Syrian opposition forces, and establish a buffer along portions of its border with Syria; Turkey continues to maintain a considerable military presence in northern Syria; it has armed and trained militia/proxy forces, such as the Syrian National Army, which was formed in late 2017 of Syrian Arab and Turkmen rebel factions in the Halab (Aleppo) province and northwestern Syria
the US and some regional and European states have at times backed Syrian opposition forces militarily and/or conducted military operations, primarily against ISIS; the US has operated in Syria since 2015 with ground forces and air strikes; the majority the US ground forces are deployed in the Eastern Syria Security Area (ESSA, which includes parts of Hasakah and Dayr az Zawr provinces east of the Euphrates River) in support of operations by the Syrian Democratic Forces against ISIS, while the remainder are in southeast Syria around At Tanf supporting counter-ISIS operations by the Syrian Free Army opposition force; the US has also conducted air strikes against Syrian military targets in response to Syrian Government use of chemical weapons against opposition forces and civilians; in addition, France, Jordan, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and the UK have provided forms of military assistance to opposition forces and/or conducted operations against ISIS, including air strikes
Israel has conducted hundreds of military air strikes in Syria against Syrian military, Hizballah, Iranian, and/or Iranian-backed militia targets
the Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), a coalition of forces comprised primarily of Kurdish, Sunni Arab, and Syriac Christian fighters; it is dominated and led by Kurdish forces, particularly the Peopleâs Protection Units (YPG) militia; the SDF began to receive US support in 2015 and as of 2023 was the main local US partner in its counter-ISIS campaign; the SDF has internal security, counterterrorism, and commando units; Turkey views the SDF as an extension of the Kurdistan Workersâ Party (PKK), a US-designated terrorist organization (see Appendix T)
the ISIS terrorist group (see Appendix T) lost its last territorial stronghold to SDF forces in 2019, but continues to maintain a low-level insurgency; in addition, the SDF holds about 10,000 captured suspected ISIS fighters in detention facilities across northern Syria, including 2,000 from countries other than Iraq and Syria
the Hay'at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS; formerly known as al-Nusrah Front) terrorist organization (see Appendix T) is the dominant militant group in northwest Syria and has asserted considerable influence and control over the so-called Syrian Salvation Government in the Iblib de-escalation zone and the Aleppo province (2023) | |||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 14 | https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/civil-war-in-syria/alassad-system/6315B2709202AEC8297716153E759BC5 | en | Assad System (Chapter 1) | [
"https://www.cambridge.org/core/cambridge-core/public/images/icn_circle__btn_close_white.svg",
"https://www.cambridge.org/core/cambridge-core/public/images/logo_core.png",
"https://www.cambridge.org/core/cambridge-core/public/images/logo_core.svg",
"https://www.cambridge.org/core/cambridge-core/public/images/... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Adam Baczko",
"Gilles Dorronsoro",
"Arthur Quesnay"
] | null | Civil War in Syria - February 2018 | en | /core/cambridge-core/public/images/favicon.ico | Cambridge Core | https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/civil-war-in-syria/alassad-system/6315B2709202AEC8297716153E759BC5 | To save this book to your Kindle, first ensure coreplatform@cambridge.org is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part of your Kindle email address below. Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations. ‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi. ‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 41 | https://www.wilsoncenter.org/article/assad-spoiler-russias-challenge-syria | en | Assad the Spoiler: Russia's Challenge in Syria | [
"https://www.wilsoncenter.org/themes/custom/wilson/assets/images/wilson-quarterly.svg",
"https://www.wilsoncenter.org/themes/custom/wilson/logo.svg?v=20210609",
"https://www.wilsoncenter.org/sites/default/files/styles/square/public/media/uploads/images/Alex_bick.jpg",
"https://www.wilsoncenter.org/themes/cust... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | en | /core/misc/favicon.ico | Wilson Center | https://www.wilsoncenter.org/article/assad-spoiler-russias-challenge-syria | Russia’s military success in Syria over the past four years has shined a most unfavorable light on the assertion – made routinely by United Nations, US, and other Western diplomats – that there was “no military solution” to Syria’s brutal civil war. Less clear is whether Russia will be able to translate gains on the battlefield into a stable political solution. On this front, dark clouds are gathering.
On April 17, Aleksandr Aksenenok, former Russian ambassador to Syria and now vice president of the Russian International Affairs Council, published a remarkably bleak assessment of the situation in Syria and the ability of that country’s leadership to resolve it. “Damascus is not particularly interested in displaying a far-sighted and flexible approach,” he wrote, adding that “a sustainable settlement is impossible unless the fundamental socio-economic causes of the conflict and the mentality that triggered it are eliminated.” Although Russia’s military operations had been successful up to this point, he concluded: “it is becoming increasingly obvious that the regime is reluctant or unable to develop a system of government that can mitigate corruption and crime and go from a military economy to normal trade and economic relations.”
Aksenenok has been critical of Damascus before, but never so directly. The concurrent publication of an article accusing the Syrian president of corruption in a paper owned by Yevgeny Prigozhin, a close ally of President Vladimir Putin, and of a poll indicating that Bashar al-Assad’s popularity within Syria had fallen to 32 percent, have fueled speculation of a coordinated media campaign aimed at publicly signaling the Kremlin’s displeasure.
If so, this would be a worrying development for Assad, whose military machine is almost entirely dependent on Russian airpower, weapons, and technical expertise. But the alternative – that the pieces were published independently – would be just as significant, as it would suggest more general frustration with Russia’s main Syrian partner bubbling to the surface.
What might this mean for the future of Russia’s involvement in Syria?
The two countries have cooperated since the mid-1950s, but the partnership has been more transactional and strained than is sometimes acknowledged. During the Cold War, Russian officials fretted about Syria’s adventurous foreign policy and, despite substantial aid, found Hafez al-Assad difficult if not impossible to control. When the Soviet Union collapsed, ties frayed, only to be restored around 2005, when Russia’s desire to assert an independent foreign policy, including in the Middle East, intersected with mounting Western pressure on Syria.
The two countries have cooperated since the mid-1950s, but the partnership has been more transactional and strained than is sometimes acknowledged.
Since the 2011 uprising, and especially after 2015, Russian support has been robust, but Russian officials – including Putin himself – have consistently distanced themselves from the person of the Syrian president. Throughout multiple rounds of UN-brokered peace talks in Geneva, Russian diplomats insisted they were “not wedded to Assad.” Some believe this was never more than a ruse, intended to manipulate hopeful Western officials and buy time for Russia to consolidate Assad’s position. Certainly, this approach afforded Russia more flexibility than did President Obama’s call for Assad to “step aside.” But it also reflects the fact that Russia’s support was never about Assad (or even Syria) in the first place. Rather, it was motivated by the desire to prevent the United States from toppling another unfriendly regime, ending Moscow’s isolation over its actions in Ukraine, and ensuring continued access to the Mediterranean. In this, Assad has been a tool and, under the right circumstances, probably a dispensable one.
This should not be taken to mean that Russia is now prepared to accept a political transition in Syria along the lines laid out in UN Security Council Resolution 2254, for several reasons. The fear that Assad’s removal could lead to the chaotic collapse of the highly-personalized political system his father helped to build more than forty years ago makes that approach too risky. At a more practical level, Iran’s steadfast support for Assad limits Russia’s influence over domestic politics. And, probably above all else, Russia has placed Syria at the center of a narrative that emphasizes Russia’s defense of national sovereignty and reliability as a security partner. Any whiff of capitulation to the United States on Assad’s fate would puncture that narrative in ways that would negatively impact Russia’s foreign policy aspirations far beyond Syria.
...Russia has placed Syria at the center of a narrative that emphasizes Russia’s defense of national sovereignty and reliability as a security partner.
Nevertheless, the challenges for Russia are daunting. The first is military: Turkey and the United States stand in the way of a complete victory, leaving a major concentration of hardened fighters and extremists in Idlib province, close to Russia’s Hmeimim base, and denying the government access to oil and gas resources in the east. While the future of the US military presence is uncertain, Turkey’s military build-up suggests it is planning to stay. At the same time, an insurgency is brewing in the south, an area in which Russia was deeply involved in a series of de-escalation agreements and where Russian military police continue to patrol.
Politically, Assad has once again dug in his heels, undermining even the modest aspirations of the UN-led process to reform Syria’s constitution that Russian officials initially touted as an important step on a “long road” to peace. As political scientists have found in other contexts, military assistance does not necessarily translate into influence; in Syria, Russia’s success in stabilizing Assad’s government may have left Moscow with less leverage, not more.
In fairness, Syria has always been difficult to govern. Depending on how you count, there were at least five coups d’état between independence in 1947 and the “corrective movement” that brought Hafez al-Assad to power in 1970. The Assad family imposed order by building a ruthless security state, cloaking its Alawite character in Ba’athism, and playing up the Palestinian cause to bolster its domestic legitimacy. Of these three methods, only the first appears to have survived the civil war. A more able politician might co-opt former opponents and draw on Syrian patriotism or the incredible resilience of the Syrian people to begin to heal the wounds of war. But Bashar al-Assad is not that leader, and Russia knows it.
A more able politician might co-opt former opponents and draw on Syrian patriotism or the incredible resilience of the Syrian people to begin to heal the wounds of war. But Bashar al-Assad is not that leader, and Russia knows it.
Finally, there is the economic challenge. Russia’s gamble that the United States and European Union would ultimately accept a cosmetic political deal and foot the bill for reconstruction – if only to stem the flow of refugees – is not panning out. Instead, tightened US sanctions and the collapse of the Lebanese banking system are eroding what’s left of Syria’s economy. In the absence of a “peace dividend,” Assad is mollifying those who remained loyal with property and businesses appropriated from Syrians who fled during the war. Russia, meanwhile, is finding it difficult to extract economic benefits in Syria that would help offset the costs of its military campaign.
Make no mistake: those costs are sustainable, and on balance Putin’s intervention in Syria continues to look to many Russians and others like a major success. The military threat to Assad’s rule is over. Russia has tested and found new markets for its weapons systems. Its relationships with Iran, Turkey, Israel, and the Gulf states have all deepened, and its prestige in the region has been greatly enhanced. Nevertheless, it is hard to see where further gains will come from, and there may be heavier costs if the situation deteriorates further. The collapse of oil prices and economic disruption resulting from COVID-19 make these issues more urgent.
In Assad, Russia found a willing if highly-imperfect partner. It is ironic, though perhaps predictable, that at just the moment many in Europe, and at least some in the United States, have accepted his continued rule, Russian frustration with Assad is growing. Nevertheless, for the time being, Assad and Russia still need one another. It may be that Moscow is prepared to accept Syria as a failed state in which Russia can continue to act as an arbiter among regional and international powers, while waiting for opportunities to emerge in the future. But Putin would almost certainly relish the chance to play peacemaker. In that case, Russia will need to convince others, especially Turkey and the United States, that it is prepared to use the leverage it still has in Damascus. Otherwise, Assad will spoil its plans.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect an official position of the Wilson Center. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 57 | https://www.usip.org/press/2000/06/generation-next-new-generation-leaders-middle-east-challenge | en | Generation Next: Is the New Generation of Leaders in the Middle East Up to the Challenge? | [
"https://www.usip.org/sites/default/files/styles/summary_image/public/2023-12/20231209_2023-wbpa-winner_websiteimage_2048x1367.jpg?itok=Ymxl0xDS",
"https://www.usip.org/sites/default/files/styles/summary_image/public/2023-10/2023wbpfinalists.jpg?itok=SKwqZ-IU"
] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2016-12-01T16:34:23-05:00 | How will the death of Syria's influential Pres. Hafez al-Assad affect this week's Final Status talk in Washington? Is Syria in for an easy transition of power or will there be bumps in the road ahead? What role will new leadership in Syria, Jordan, and other Arab powers play in U.S. facilitated efforts to bring peace and stability to the Middle East? Middle East specialists Jon Alterman, Jeffery Helsing, and Steven Riskin ... | en | /themes/custom/usip/favicon.ico | United States Institute of Peace | https://www.usip.org/press/2000/06/generation-next-new-generation-leaders-middle-east-challenge | How will the death of Syria's influential Pres. Hafez al-Assad affect this week's Final Status talk in Washington? Is Syria in for an easy transition of power or will there be bumps in the road ahead? What role will new leadership in Syria, Jordan, and other Arab powers play in U.S. facilitated efforts to bring peace and stability to the Middle East? Middle East specialists Jon Alterman, Jeffery Helsing, and Steven Riskin are available for questions, commentary, and analysis in examining the impact of the new generation of Arab leadership in the ongoing quest to bring peace to the Middle East.
Jon B. Alterman
Jeffery Helsing
Steven Riskin | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 55 | https://www.ft.com/content/2423c286-8c4d-11e9-b8cb-26a9caa9d67b | en | Assad or We Burn the Country — vivid account of Syrian war | https://www.ft.com/__origami/service/image/v2/images/raw/ftlogo-v1%3Abrand-ft-logo-square-coloured?source=update-logos&format=svg | https://www.ft.com/__origami/service/image/v2/images/raw/ftlogo-v1%3Abrand-ft-logo-square-coloured?source=update-logos&format=svg | [
"https://www.ft.com/__origami/service/image/v2/images/raw///financial-times-financial-times.cdn.zephr.com/assets/icons/primary_product_icon_standard.svg?source=next-barrier-page&format=svg",
"https://www.ft.com/__origami/service/image/v2/images/raw///financial-times-financial-times.cdn.zephr.com/assets/icons/prim... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | War correspondent’s powerful new book describes the devastation and the west’s reluctance to stop it | https://www.ft.com/__origami/service/image/v2/images/raw/ftlogo-v1%3Abrand-ft-logo-square-coloured?source=update-logos&format=svg | null | Why the FT?
See why over a million readers pay to read the Financial Times. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 19 | https://www.kidpaw.net/famous-people/hafez-al-assad-pid112712 | en | Assad Biography, Birthday. Awards & Facts About Hafez Al | [
"https://www.kidpaw.net/data/people/syrian/kidpaw-hafez-al-assad-5693.jpg",
"https://www.kidpaw.net/images/default-avatar.svg",
"https://www.kidpaw.net/images/default-avatar.svg",
"https://www.kidpaw.net/images/default-avatar.svg",
"https://www.kidpaw.net/images/default-avatar.svg",
"https://www.kidpaw.ne... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | Hafez Al-Assad detail biography, family, facts and date of birth. Awards of Hafez Al-Assad, birthday, children and many other facts. See Hafez Al-Assad's spouse, children, sibling and parent names. | en | /favicon.ico | https://www.kidpaw.net/famous-people/hafez-al-assad-pid112712 | Hafez Al-Assad Introduction:
Hafez Al-Assad was a Syrian politician and statesman who ruled the country with an iron grip for almost three decades. To know more about his childhood, career, profile and timeline read on | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 20 | https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/documentary/the-regime/ | en | The Regime | [
"https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/wp-content/themes/fl-responsive-theme/library/images/trust_mark.svg",
"https://s3.amazonaws.com/apps.frontline.org/img/fl-gray.png",
"https://s3.amazonaws.com/apps.frontline.org/img/fl-gray.png",
"https://s3.amazonaws.com/apps.frontline.org/img/fl-gray.png",
"https://s3.a... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Ly Chheng"
] | 2011-11-08T03:12:05+00:00 | A profile of the dictator who has managed to hold on longer than any amidst the Arab unrest -- President Bashar al-Assad. | en | FRONTLINE | https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/documentary/the-regime/ | Home Video DVDs of The Regime are available from ShopPBS. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 39 | https://www.martinennalsaward.org/hrd/aktham-naisse/ | en | Martin Ennals Award Aktham Naisse | [
"https://www.martinennalsaward.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/logo-mea.png",
"https://www.martinennalsaward.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/logo-mea.png",
"https://www.martinennalsaward.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/world-1-150x150.png",
"https://www.martinennalsaward.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/11/world-1-15... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2016-07-18T14:17:28+00:00 | Aktham Naisse - Martin Ennals Award 2005 laureate. Aktham Naisse co-founded the Committee for the Defense of Democratic Liberties and Human Rights (CDF). | en | Martin Ennals Award | https://www.martinennalsaward.org/hrd/aktham-naisse/ | After more than a decade struggling for human rights in Syria, on December 1989, Aktham Naisse co-founded the Committee for the Defense of Democratic Liberties and Human Rights (CDF). The first of its kind in Syria, CDF quickly began defending political prisoners, denouncing Syria’s longstanding 1963 Emergency Law and calling for political reforms.
The same year, Naisse took matters a step further and began publicizing a newsletter under the name Sawt ad-Dimuqratiya (Voice of Democracy). Naisse would earn the ire of the Syrian authorities – running an illegal NGO and publishing a newsletter critical of the regime.
Working between the lines was by no means ‘new territory’ for Naisse – for nearly 15 years he had been seeking permission from the government to work openly and freely on human rights issues in Syria.
On 18 December 1991, only a few days after the CDF’s 2nd anniversary, Naisse was arrested. The torture sessions ensued and following a categorically ‘unfair’ trial, he was sentenced to nine years imprisonment. He was provisionally released in 1996, however he continued to agitate the Syrian authorities over democratic and human rights, maintained his fervent criticism of the State of Emergency, landing him in jail a further five times between 1996 and 1998.
Immediately after his final release in 1998, he would further bolster the CDF’s efforts by launching a campaign to lift the State of Emergency and allow all exiled Syrian to return.
Almost a year later in 2000, then-president Hafez Al-Assad died, his son Bashar, taking over the reins while making promises of ‘political reforms’. With the release of 600 political prisoners in November 2000 and a renewed tolerance for civil society groups, Syria seemed to be approaching a new era under its new youthful President. But as more than 60 discussion forums would emerge, hope was short-lived, as the previous darkness Syrians knew all too well came to settle once again.
By 2001 the vast majority of the new-founded discussion fora and civil society groups had once again disappeared and in June 2002, the European parliament adopted a resolution condemning the imprisonment of Syrian intellectuals and political opponents.
On 27 August 2003, the CDF was told to shut down, despite the threats, Naisse’s didn’t back down, rather leading the CDF in doubling its efforts.
In early 2004 the CDF published a petition signed by 7000 intellectuals calling for an end to the Emergency Law. The same year, on 8 March the anniversary of the 41st of Baath party rule, Naisse organized a peaceful sit-in outside the Damascus parliament, during which protestors made calls for democratic reforms and the release of political prisoners.
An alleged 700 demonstrators were arrested, but released the following day. A month later, Naisse was summoned by the military security services in Latakia, west Syria and arrested.
He was charged with “opposing the objectives of the revolution” and “disseminating false information aiming at weakening the State” – charges that could land him 15-years in jail.
By now Naisse was used to the Syrian authorities’ draconian tactics, having been the target of threats and harassment over the last 10 years, escalating to an incident when his mother was beaten by security services in 2003.
The international human rights community instantly mobilized as the FIDH, OMCT, Frontline and the Euro-Mediterranean Human Right Network amongst others issued appeals on Naisse’s behalf.
While in custody, Naisse was awarded the Ludovic Trarieux international human rights prize for 2004
While in custody, awaiting trial, Naisse suddenly suffered a stroke after being denied medication for his kidney and heart problems. Fearing he might die, Syria’s Supreme State Security Court (SSSC) conditionally released Naisse on 17 August 2004 for 10,000 Syrian Pounds, and called on the authorities to drop all charges.
After successive postponements in his trial – culminating on 24 April 2005 during a hearing with a protest of more than 200 demonstrators outside the SSSC in Damascus – Aktham Naisse was acquitted by SSSC on 26 June 2005.
News of his release was welcomed across the globe and a few days before his trial Naisse wrote to the Martin Ennals Foundation saying,
“I feel more motivated and happy because there are people interested in our problem, people that care for us and support us in our fight for human liberty. I have a great belief now that I know we are not struggling alone against human rights violations.”
On 12 October 2005, Naisse was awarded the 2005 Martin Ennals Award for Human Rights Defenders during a ceremony at the Bâtiment des Forces Motrices in Geneva, Switzerland.
Naisse was until recently under constant surveillance in Syria, in internal exile since a travel ban was imposed on him in October 2008. In 2011 the Syrian government launched a bloody repression against the opposition. In August 2011 the city of Latakia was bombarded by land and sea, fortunately Aktham Naisse was able to escape and take refuge in Europe. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 75 | https://themarkaz.org/ruling-elite-of-syria-masters-of-wasta/ | en | Syria’s Ruling Elite— A Master Class in Wasta | [
"https://themarkaz.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Dec-2023-Updated-Logo.jpg",
"https://themarkaz.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Dec-2023-Updated-Logo.jpg",
"https://themarkaz.org/wp-content/themes/markaz/img/previous.png",
"https://themarkaz.org/wp-content/themes/markaz/img/previous.png",
"https://themarkaz... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Lawrence Joffe"
] | 2021-06-14T22:00:00+00:00 | Lawrence Joffe on how the al-Assad and Makhlouf families have mastered the art of control and corruption in a country decimated by a decade of war. | en | The Markaz Review | https://themarkaz.org/ruling-elite-of-syria-masters-of-wasta/ | Lawrence Joffe
It seems almost tasteless to write about a sordid family dispute over money in a country which has suffered a decade of brutal warfare. More than half a million have died in Syria, mostly civilians; another 12 million were forced to flee their homes. Thousands of political prisoners remain “missing”; and reports of torture in both government and rebel prisons are rife.
Yet in many senses the little private squabble goes to the heart of the crisis. And wasta is a key ingredient — one that assumes a new order of magnitude when it involves one man controlling 60 percent of a nation’s economy.
That was the case with Rami Makhlouf in Syria. First cousin to President Bashar al-Assad, owner of a fleet of companies and trusts, both open ones in Syria and clandestine ones offshore, Rami claimed to represent some 200 foreign firms and became the conduit for nearly every inward investment in the land. Not much moved without his say-so. Each kickback enriched him and further entrenched his power. It was said he could sack anyone with a single telephone call. One former Syrian official estimated his personal wealth at eight percent of Syria’s GDP, or $62 billion. And virtually everyone had to kowtow to a single figure, which surely constitutes the dictionary definition of gross corruption.
The flagship of his enterprise was Syriatel, Syria’s main mobile phone provider and most lucrative industry. True to form, Makhlouf also enjoyed interests in its smaller telecom rival, MTN. Besides that he came to own duty-free shops in Syria and enterprise zones in Lebanon, and ran most of Syria’s engineering and construction, tourism and real estate, banking and insurance, and oil and gas projects.
Mergers and acquisitions Makhlouf-style meant sending in armed mukhabarat (security forces) to frighten competitors. This led the US Treasury to directly sanction Makhlouf in February 2008 for benefiting from “public corruption.” The EU followed suit in 2012. Not that this stopped him. On the contrary, Makhlouf garnered yet more wealth by offering secret pathways for illicit money and apparently drugs to flow in and out of Syria. In April 2020, for instance, four tons of hashish were discovered in Port Said, Egypt, wrapped in the packaging of the Makhlouf-owned Milkman company.
Keeping it in the family
Officially, the Ba’ath Party has governed Syria since 1963 on the basis of “unity, freedom and socialism.” Much of the Baathists’ appeal lay in the way they took on the corrupt Sunni business families in Aleppo and Damascus, who had dominated Syrian politics under the French mandate, and immediately after independence in 1946. Supposedly the nation’s poorer Sunni peasant majority, as well as destitute minorities, like the Alawites, would be the new beneficiaries.
In reality, after 1971 Syria found itself saddled with a double-dynasty whereby one family (Assad) enjoys absolute political power while their relatives by marriage (Makhlouf) have dominated the economy. Bashar’s late father, Hafez al-Assad, forged this pact with his brother-in-law, and Rami’s father, Mohammed Makhlouf.
In a sense the story begins in 1958 when a young ambitious air force officer from the minor Alawite Kalbiyya tribe, Hafez al-Assad, married “above his station” Mohammed’s sister, Anisa, from the Haddad tribe. The controversial tryst paid off when Hafez rose through the Baathist ranks and became Syria’s master in 1971. Mohammed, who died of Covid last November, was duly awarded the Syrian national tobacco monopoly. From this he branched out into oil — another strategic Syrian asset — and by the 1980s “grew to control the Syrian economy behind the scenes,” according to Gulf News editor Samir Salama.
And the next generation continued the formula after Hafez died in 2000. Rami would manage business affairs while his cousins, Bashar and Maher al-Assad, would respectively handle virtually all state and security matters. Analysts called it a sectarian clique. Islamists famously accuse the “deviant” Alawite sect of privilege overlordship. Yet many fellow Alawites remained mired in poverty and endure “unprecedented pain and bereavement,” made worse by war. This came on top of a Ba’athist and Assad-centric paradigm that had displaced the ordinary Alawite’s traditional wasta-based patronage networks based on clan and cleric.
In 2000 Bashar al-Assad came to power on the promise of freeing up Syria’s economy via denationalization and privatization. Optimists felt change was in the air. Syrians soon realized, however, that supposed neoliberalism merely concentrated wealth in fewer and fewer hands. To survive economically, it helped to be Alawite, not Sunni. And — most of all — to enjoy ties to the Assad/Makhlouf clan personally.
As John McHugo explained in his book Syria: A Recent History:
[Rami Makhlouf] controlled what should have been the show cases for a new, open Syrian economy: the free trade zones and both the country’s mobile phone operators. Everybody knew that the new competition law was not going to be used to split up his business assets or those of other key supporters of the regime. The small group of wealthy people at the top of society grew, as did the numbers of poor at the bottom. Those in the middle found themselves squeezed.
“Normal wasta” implies the leveraging of advantage via influence to land a job, find a school place, avoid a fine or avoid police harassment. What made the Syrian model different was not only its sheer scale, but the way it hardwired corruption into every aspect of state practice. In 2020 Transparency International ranked Syria 178th out of 180 countries on its corruption index.
All changed with the Arab Spring?
Then came 2011 and the Syrian uprising. Suddenly Rami’s face shared joint billing with that of his cousin the president on protest posters. Economic woes were a key factor behind the rebellion, and no one symbolized wasta writ large more than “Mr 10 Percent,” Rami Makhlouf.
Makhlouf duly pretended to transform himself from businessman to benefactor. He promised to divest himself of his riches and almost seemed to confess to past excesses. However, as McHugo commented: “Whether the conversion was sincere or not was beside the point: by then it was too late.”
In fact, Rami Makhlouf soon repurposed his network to fund his own 30,000-strong pro-regime militia via his Al-Bustan charitable association. He also made Bustan the sole conduit for essential international aid which the Syrian government was barred from receiving. Wasta in new clothes, one could say. Makhlouf also proved his loyalty to the regime by funding the Syrian Electronic Army, an aggressively Assadist social media faction that operated out of Dubai.
All the while Rami enjoyed protection (wasta in another guise) through his brother Hafez Makhlouf, head of the notoriously vicious Damascus-based Section 40 branch of State Security, and reputedly chief launderer of money from Syria to Russia. Makhlouf also used the “Syrian security services and his personal relationship to President Assad to intimidate and steal promising business ventures” from other Syrians, according to a leak from the US Embassy in Damascus, relayed in a 2012 Reuters report. That same article quoted one Damascus trader who said Rami even micromanaged the legal underpinnings of Syria’s economy during the early war years: “Makhlouf writes the laws, whether it is tax or trade law. The regulatory climate is tailored to his preference.”
Dethroning the Money King
But cracks started to show in the Makhlouf clan façade. In 2014 Hafez Makhlouf was suddenly removed from his intelligence post. In 2016 Rami witnessed the death of his other great protector, his aunt, the formidable Anisa Makhlouf, widow of the late Hafez al-Assad, mother to Bashar, and mother-in-law from hell to Bashar’s ambitious London-raised wife, Asma — of whom more soon!
Stage three of the drama began in late 2019 when the regime ostentatiously launched an anti-corruption drive. Dictators untrammelled by an independent judiciary often use such campaigns to disguise what are in effect purges of foes or potential rivals. Think of Putin imprisoning oil baron and Russia’s richest man in 2003, Mikhail Khordokovsky, on theft and tax evasion charges; or Saudi Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman rounding up tycoons at the Riyadh Ritz Carlton, and squeezing them for money; or Kazakh strongman Nursultan Nazarbayev hounding his wealthy son-in-law turned political rival, Rakhat Aliyev. The latter fled Kazakhstan in 2007 after being charged with kidnap and “running a mafia network.” He ended up dead in prison while awaiting trial in Vienna in 2015 — a case that still troubles investigators.
Bashar al-Assad’s turning on Makhlouf followed a similar pattern, though so far has not resulted in murder. Essentially the president accused his cousin of reneging on back-taxes and insisted that he repay the equivalent of $180M. Some saw this as negative wasta: an attempt to recoup losses and compensate Syria’s increasingly impatient allies, Iran and Russia, who had committed troops, weaponry and billions of dollars into keeping the beleaguered regime afloat. To give just one example, in 2012 — three years before Russia openly committed its military to helping Assad survive — Moscow flew in 240 tons of banknotes. One reason was to restore circulation after Vienna stopped a subsidiary of Austria’s Central Bank from printing Syrian lira. Another reason was simply to prop up Syria’s ailing economy. Or perhaps the true intention of targeting Makhlouf was to cut him down to size, after he had begun showing signs of political autonomy. Rami’s father Mohammed had been a stalwart of the Syrian Social Nationalist Party, an old rival of Ba’ath, more recently brought back into the pro-regime fold. Rami was rumored to be bankrolling their surprisingly effective militia, currently fighting on the regime’s side. But who knows what the future holds?
Rami also acted as a Robin Hood figure to his Alawite base in coastal Latakia province. He decried, if initially indirectly, the way Damascus had neglected the families of the many Alawite soldiers and militiamen who had died or were wounded fighting for the regime over ten years.
Whatever the case, “punishing” Rami Makhlouf did nothing to restore vital services or help the 80 percent of Syrians who live below the poverty line. According to the BBC in June 2020, 12 million Syrians need humanitarian aid and a million face “food insecurity” — in plain speech, they risk starvation. Hyperinflation has also taken its toll: between 2011 and 2016 the Syrian lira lost 214 percent of its value. By the end of 2016 it was estimated that the Syrian economy had shrunk ten-fold since the conflict began. After a brief period of stabilization, coinciding with the regime’s military recovery, from the third quarter of 2019 to the present the lira has declined by a further 750 percent.
The proximate causes are the effect of punitive US sanctions arising out of the Caesar Act, the collapse of the Lebanese economy next door, and the pandemic. Beyond that, Syria’s fundamental financial weakness prevents any easy recovery. Assad basically needs Russia and Iran to bail him out… which represents another form of wasta or “influence” that Syria could well do without.
Meanwhile some suggest that by turning on his cousin and liquidating his assets, Bashar has in effect killed the golden goose. Rami Makhlouf alluded to this truth when he admitted in late 2020 that his chief role was purse-keeper for the regime. Key to this operation were, and are, sanctions-immune offshore accounts run by the Makhlouf family, whose value likely dwarves those of their more visible enterprises. As early as 2016 The Guardian revealed how Mossack Fonseca and even HSBC had protected and assisted these holdings in Panama.
War within the clan
Makhlouf responded by breaking the family code of silence. He took to Facebook to reveal the extent of financial illegality over decades. In an unprecedented way he condemned abuse of power by those around Bashar. He shamelessly appealed to the “rule of law” and launched harangues against “war profiteers.” Rami even used mystical Alawite terminology to appeal to his sectarian base supporters. Makhlouf allies whispered about “neo-Ottoman” threats, a thinly veiled attack on Asma al-Assad and her largely Sunni business allies and relatives. But Rami Makhlouf hardly helped his cause by allowing his playboy entrepreneur son, Mohammed, to tout his fast cars and flamboyant lifestyle in Dubai on social media — an open insult to a destitute nation.
Others who had long envied Makhlouf’s privileges now wished to benefit from wasta too, like financier Samer Foz, or brothers Hussam and Baraa Katerji, war profiteers who made millions with oil deals, including in ISIS and Kurdish-ruled areas (though pro-regime, the Katerjis were born in Raqqa). Another is Muhammad Hamsho, a protege of Maher al-Assad, the president’s brother and commander of the powerful Republican Guard. Hamsho made his fortune by monopolizing the lucrative trade in scrap metal, which he picked up for free from devastated cities while regime gunmen warded off potential rivals.
Most dramatically, the president’s Sunni wife, Asma al-Assad (nee Akhras), began snapping up Makhlouf’s liquidated entities and parcelling them out to her relatives and allies. Asma certainly has the skills to do the job. Before 2000 she had worked for Morgan Stanley and Deutsche Bank in London. She was about to pursue an MBA at Harvard University when she married Bashar in December 2000, six months after he assumed the throne.
Asma set up the all-embracing Syrian Trust for Development, which covers micro-credit, rural aid, cancer care, cultural projects and the Shabab youth skills organization. In 2020 she essentially swallowed up Makhlouf’s Bustan charity. After Damascus put Syriatel into receivership, Asma (known as Emma during her London schooldays) swamped the board of the rival network, MTN, with her relatives, and renamed it Emmatel. Apparently Emmatel is even doing business in rebel-controlled areas these days.
More than this, in 2014 she championed a Smart Card system to deliver fuel. And in April 2020 she helped her cousin, Muhannad Dabbagh, and his Takamol Trading Company, to expand its remit to deliver subsidized food. Dabbagh’s other projects include a touristic outfit called Noura Wings and a mysterious offshore entity, Petroline. Yet once more there was a catch that smacked of wasta: nobody could access the e-card without the right papers. And that meant proven loyalty to the regime.
As for Rami himself, latest reports say he is under house arrest north of Damascus. He still has a bolt-hole in Moscow where his sons and daughters own $40M worth of residential property. Meanwhile Assad is playing the classic divide-and-rule technique of dictators and former colonial masters, by awarding Rami’s younger twin brother, Ihab, 47, control of what is left of Syriatel. Maybe that also answers the golden goose conundrum…
Replacing the original Assad formula – but with what?
The year 2020 marked half a century since Hafez al-Assad declared his Corrective Revolution. It sought to reverse the hyper-socialist excesses — as perceived — of the previous Baathist rulers. After all, Hafez brought Sunni middle class business leaders back into the tent and allowed Sunni politicians to rise to the highest ministerial positions. But as part of the deal, Alawites were guaranteed the top security positions. And that is where true power resided. There, and most of all, near to the hub of the Assad family itself.
As civil conflict swept every part of Syria after 2011, the corruption that fueled the uprising in the first place only worsened at the street level. New pro-regime militias set up armed checkpoints to extort bribes from innocent commuters. Gangs of Assadist shabiha, or “ghosts,” and mostly Alawite smugglers turned gunmen, quickly joined in. Sometimes the threat is political, even deadly: pay a bribe or offer sexual favors or surrender your passport, otherwise we will turn you in to the authorities for dodging the military draft. Imagine the measure of wasta influence needed to get out of that fix!
As Nour Samaha wrote in late 2016: “War profiteers have carved out a thriving black market by circumventing the sanctions regime, making millions by importing and selling much-desired goods ranging from Kit Kat bars to Cuban cigars. By amassing such profit and power, they’ve come to exact an immense degree of control over the lives of Syrians living in government-controlled areas.”
Perhaps we shouldn’t get too high and mighty about the inequities and iniquities of Syria; corruption clearly exists all over, even in democracies. Just this month uncovered IRS documents showed that some of the richest Americans — including Elon Musk, Michael Bloomberg, Jeff Bezos and Warren Buffett — avoid paying full income tax. Many pay none at all.
Corruption in general and wasta in particular remains a huge problem in the region too. Consider the way anger at nepotism and graft underpinned the recent Jordanian “coup attempt.” Or the bribery charges against Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu in Israel, a land where even under the older socialist Labor administrations having “proteksia” (effectively wasta) was the only to get ahead. Worse still, think of Lebanon where in 2019 some 54 percent of the population reported having to use personal connections to access basic services; or the Middle East generally, where one in five women have experienced “sextortion” when trying to get health care or education.
Yet Syria today probably represents the most egregious example of the blend of violence, state power and social exclusion of whole sectors on political grounds. And changing the faces from Makhlouf to Akhras is hardly a solution.
Genuine reconstruction, or wasta remastered?
The war in Syria is largely over at present, but for some fighting in Idlib. No one can truly say how many billions or even trillions will be needed to rebuild the country. But who will invest? The USA, UAE, Germany and Syrian opposition forces launched a Syrian Recovery Trust in 2013. Since then, numerous other developed nations have joined the scheme. But Damascus, Moscow and Teheran have largely shut them out of future plans, for political reasons. Instead, the regime set up in 2014 a Syrian Reconstruction Committee that reportedly uses new taxes to punish people in former rebel areas. Once again, this seems like extortion written into the very law.
On the other hand, this tax can only raise a pittance compared to what is needed to rebuild Syria. Wasta alone cannot overcome economic realities. And with Russia and Iran wary of ploughing in yet more state money, especially given their own economic woes, that means private investors have to enter the fray.
Why should they, though, if there is no obvious return on investment? A year ago Moscow seemed to show awareness of this truth when semi-official Russian news outlets suggested Bashar al-Assad should step down. Although quickly removed, these “trial balloon” op-eds argued that Assad had to restore good governance and invite former opponents to participate in a new constitution. Only that way could Syria begin to assuage and attract foreign investors.
In short, some hope that the sheer enormity of the Syrian disaster means that Damascus — whether under Assad or a successor — must think beyond wasta. Then again, even if wasta is eventually defeated — was it worth it for surviving Syrians? | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 36 | https://english.enabbaladi.net/archives/2021/10/rifaat-al-assad-returns-to-syria-a-deal-or-an-escape-from-justice/ | en | Assad returns to Syria: a deal or an escape from justice? | [
"https://english.enabbaladi.net/wp-content/themes/enabbaladi/assets/images/logo.svg",
"https://english.enabbaladi.net/wp-content/themes/enabbaladi/assets/images/logo.svg",
"https://english.enabbaladi.net/wp-content/themes/enabbaladi/assets/images/list.svg",
"https://english.enabbaladi.net/wp-content/themes/en... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"enab10 Ula",
"Enab Baladi"
] | 2021-10-25T12:00:59+00:00 | Syria News by Syrians | en | Enab Baladi | https://english.enabbaladi.net/archives/2021/10/rifaat-al-assad-returns-to-syria-a-deal-or-an-escape-from-justice/ | Saleh Malas | Zeinab Masri | Diana Rahima
While the legal debate on how Rifaat al-Assad, the uncle of Syrian regime president Bashar al-Assad, has managed to flee France to dodge arrest continues, media outlets and social media platforms have exploded with news over the past days about his return to Syria after four decades in exile.
The French and Western media reported conflicting information about Rifaat al-Assad’s escape method from France. However, French journalist Georges Malbrunot, who is experienced in Syrian affairs, presented a shocking revelation that Rifaat did not escape but left France in a deal thanks to past services he made to the French intelligence services.
Some media reports said that Rifaat’s return was to prevent an imprisonment term in France and described Syria as a “haven for criminals fleeing justice.”
Rifaat’s return to Syria brings back to Syrians’ memories hundreds of narratives about his role as the commander of Saraya al-Difaa (Defense Brigades), which targeted Islamist opponents to Hafez al-Assad’s rule in Hama city and his responsibility for the Tadmur prison massacre in the 1980s.
Rifaat’s escape has brought criticism to France for allowing him to leave the country, while some directed their critique to the Syrian opposition and Syrian human rights organizations for failing to prosecute Rifaat al-Assad, the godfather of human rights violations in Syria, or provide evidence against him.
In this in-depth article, Enab Baladi talks with lawyers, legal experts, and Syrian opposition figures about how Rifaat al-Assad managed to return to Syria and why he was not held responsible by human rights organizations who could file criminal lawsuits against him. It also tackles France’s entitlement to claim Rifaat back in the event of any court ruling incriminating him for war crimes or crimes against humanity, in addition to Interpol’s stand on this matter.
A “dramatic blow” to accountability efforts
How did Rifaat al-Assad escape France?
After nearly 40 years in exile, Rifaat al-Assad dubbed the “Butcher of Hama,” escaped France to Syria to avoid a jail term after the Paris Appeal Court sentenced him to four years in prison.
On 8 October, the pro-government local newspaper al-Watan said that Rifaat had arrived in Damascus to avoid imprisonment in France, following a court ruling and the seizure of his assets in Spain. The newspaper added that Bashar al-Assad “has overlooked everything his uncle had done and allowed him to return to Syria like any other Syrian citizen, but with strict regulations, and no political or social role.”
A day after a court ruling was issued against Rifaat al-Assad, his son Ribal shared a video showing his father doing the “dabke” dance with his two grandchildren, Rifaat junior and Kaisar. On 11 September, Rifaat’s second son, Somer, said in an interview with the Russian news agency RIA Novosti that accusations against his father are “politicized and fabricated.”
On 9 September, the Paris Appeal Court backed a guilty verdict against Rifaat al-Assad for accumulating assets worth about 90 million euros in France, including townhouses, a stud farm, and a chateau with ill-gotten-gains.
The 84-year-old former Syrian vice-president, who has lived in exile since 1984, was convicted of money laundering, embezzlement of Syrian public funds, and aggravated tax evasion and will have his real estate assets confiscated by law.
However, the verdict against Rifaat was not implemented in France because Rifaat’s lawyer appealed the court ruling within 48 hours following the sentencing, political writer and Syrian lawyer in France Zaid al-Azem told Enab Baladi.
Al-Azem said that a penal sentence in France would only be carried out when it becomes final and imperative, adding that had the Cassation Court issued a final rule in Rifaat’s case, he would have been forced to stay in France.
The French government released no information about the way Rifaat al-Assad left France, which prompted lawyers and human rights activists to demand answers from the French Ministry of the Interior on this issue.
“It is possible that the French themselves do not know how he escaped, as he may have fled France with the help of Britain,” al-Azem said.
The French newspaper Le Figaro published on 14 October that Rifaat left France thanks to previous services he made to the French Intelligence.
The writer of the Lefigaro’s article, Georges Malbrunot, said that Rifaat has previously made services to Pierre Marion, the director of the French Intelligence in 1982, where his services “played a significant role in the exposure of Sabri al-Banna (Abu Nidal) network after it carried out bombings in France.
According to Malbrunot, the Syrian authorities wish to utilize Rifaat’s sons’ relations with the European mafias and that the relationship between Rifaat’s son, Somer al-Assad, and Bashar al-Assad’s brother, Maher, was never disrupted.
In all cases, the French Interior Ministry is responsible for Rifaat’s escape from France, as he was under receivership and was prohibited from leaving the country, al-Azem said.
In a statement issued on 11 October, the French organization Sherpa, which defends victims of financial crimes and is responsible for prosecuting Rifaat al-Assad, called his escape a “dramatic blow” to France’s efforts to fight transnational corruption and an “alarming signal” about France’s commitment to the anti-corruption fight.
In the statement, Sherpa said, “We question the conditions that made Rifaat’s escape possible, which constitutes a failure on France’s part to meet its international commitments to fight and punish corruption effectively.”
Sherpa added that the return of Rifaat al-Assad to Syria and his reception by the current Syrian president demonstrates that it is urgent that the framework for the restitution of assets put in place by France considers the risk that the returned assets will fall back into the corruption circuit.
The organization called on French President Emmanuel Macron to withdraw the Legion of Honour from Rifaat al-Assad, who received it in 1986 and still holds it till today.
No need to file new lawsuits against Rifaat al-Assad
Al-Azem pointed out that there is no need to bring new cases against Rifaat al-Assad, with the presence of far more important lawsuits filed against him before Swiss courts pertaining to his involvement in the 1982 Hama massacre and the Tadmur prison massacre in the 1980s, in addition to money-laundering and tax evasion cases in France.
Besides, France does not need to circulate an arrest warrant against Rifaat al-Assad among the European Union (EU) countries, for he would be arrested and deported to France in case he was busted in any EU country under the European arrest warrant (EAW).
Al-Azem added that the arrest issue of Rifaat al-Assad had become more complicated. Hypothetically speaking, Rifaat would not serve any final sentence by the Swiss judiciary for being a fugitive criminal in Syria.
This problematic situation requires focusing on the possibility of enforcing previous sentences of currently valid cases instead of bringing out new cases against Rifaat al-Assad.
According to al-Azem, the Syrians themselves are responsible for Rifaat’s state as a free man. They fell short in bringing him to accountability, as they did not take any legal action against him since he left Syria. The only time Syrians took moves against Rifaat was after the eruption of the popular uprising in 2011 when a group of Syrian legal professionals and activists started bringing up past crimes.
Lawsuits raised against Rifaat al-Assad before 2011 were “weak” and did not receive serious financial, moral, or legal support, al-Azem said.
When asked about the difficulty of building a case against Rifaat al-Assad in terms of providing evidence and witness statements incriminating him of war crimes, al-Azem said that it is a difficult matter with limited access to evidence (video recordings or photos) and testimonies against Rifaat.
The Syrian people know that Rifaat is responsible for the Sednaya and Tadmur prisons’ massacres, but there is no hard evidence or confessions from regime officers or elements to prove his criminal involvement.
Al-Azem talked about one incident in 1981 when Syrian officers confessed under investigation that they planned to assassinate Jordanian Prime Minister Mudar Badran. During the same investigation, the officers said that Moein Nassif, Rifaat’s son-in-law, ordered the Sednaya prison massacre, but they gave no information about Rifaat’s involvement.
These incriminating confessions entail the immediate arrest of Moein Nassif once he steps foot in Europe.
Al-Azem said that there is no visual evidence of the Hama massacre, except with the British/Irish journalist Robert Fisk who witnessed the massacre and took photos of the devastated city, but he died without sharing them with the world.
Al-Azem mentioned that there were attempts to reach Fisk between 2014 and 2015 to get access to the Hama photos he took, but to no avail.
Fisk is one of the few Western journalists to witness the Hama massacre carried out by the Syrian army under the rule of former president Hafez al-Assad. At that time, Fisk was a correspondent for the British Times newspaper in Lebanon, who had the chance to visit Hama during the time of the massacre.
The Middle East correspondent Fisk wrote a lengthy article about his version of the Hama massacre events in his book, “Pity the Nation.”
Legal or political factors?
How did Rifaat al-Assad escape criminal penalties in Europe?
There were attempts by international organizations to bring up (ill-gotten-gain) financial cases against Rifaat al-Assad, with charges of corruption, tax evasion, and embezzlement of public funds.
Meanwhile, there were very few and humble attempts by Syrian and international human rights organizations to build a criminal case against Rifaat inside the EU while he was still living there.
Several legal and political factors prevented the enforcement of criminal penalties on Rifaat al-Assad.
Rifaat’s return to Syria this October shocked many Syrians who resorted to social media platforms asking why Rifaat was not held accountable for his crimes during the 20 years or more he spent in Europe.
Since 2014, several EU countries have witnessed court cases bringing together Syrian victims and war criminals under the principle of universal jurisdiction, a primary tool for prosecution in cases of war crimes and crimes against humanity.
The principle of universal jurisdiction is relatively recent in European law. It was first introduced into the legal systems of EU countries in the late 1990s and early 2000s.
Since adopting this principle, Syrian human rights organizations have tried to work on the file of Rifaat al-Assad’s war crimes, the lawyer and director of the legal office of the Syrian Center for Media and Freedom of Expression (SCM), Tariq Hokan told Enab Baladi.
Hokan said that any human rights advocate agency wishing to open the file of Rifaat al-Assad’s war crimes must know in advance that it will have to search into details of crimes committed 40 years ago in circumstances very different from those of today. Back then, people did not have fast communication tools, nor could they document war crimes; that is why “we faced great difficulties finding witnesses, and when we did, they refused to cooperate in many cases,” Hokan said.
Syrian and international human rights organizations, including the SCM and the Syrian Center for Legal Studies and Research, are trying to bring justice to victims of human rights violations committed by the Syrian regime and its breaches of the international humanitarian law inside European courts, particularly in Germany, Sweden, and France.
For any international war crime or crime against humanity case to reach a European court, it should go through a legal procedure starting with preliminary investigations on those suspected of human rights violations. Then, the court views the case to see if it is within its jurisdiction. When accepted, the legal body behind the case must provide strong evidence, including visual proof and testimonies; otherwise, the case would be weak.
Each case within the jurisdiction of the European courts relating to the human rights file in Syria carries a great deal of legal evidence that sets the stage for the prosecution of suspects of war crimes in Syria.
The legal evidence is presented to the court prosecutor as indisputable evidence, besides reports issued by functionally, professionally, and legally authorized bodies under the International Rules of Procedure and Evidence. These legal proofs confirm criminal charges against individuals administratively linked to the Syrian regime government or other perpetrators of violations on Syrian territory.
The claim that Syrian human rights organizations did not make efforts to hold Rifaat al-Assad or other individuals of high military ranks accountable before European courts is unfair and distant from reality and international laws, Hokan said.
He added that the principle of universal jurisdiction is limited by immunity, as states’ heads are immune from prosecution.
Aside from presidents, all officials can be prosecuted under the universal jurisdiction principle. In Germany, the Chief of the Syrian Air Force Intelligence Directorate, Jamil Hassan, had an arrest warrant issued against him by German judicial authorities. In France, Chairman of the National Security Bureau Ali Mamlouk and the Head of the Investigation Branch of the Air Force Intelligence Directorate Abdulsalam Mahmoud were named in international arrest warrants by French authorities.
Other Syrian regime’s officials responsible for horrific violations will be brought to justice, Hokan said.
The 2018 arrest warrants issued by French courts against the regime’s three officials were triggered by the Caesar photographs. In 2013, a dissident Syrian intelligence officer leaked 50,000 photographs showing torture and starvation victims of Syrian regime prisons.
In Syria’s war and human rights crimes cases, the prosecution requires suspects’ physical presence in the European country where the trial is held. This requirement is a sine qua non in most legal systems acknowledging the principle of universal jurisdiction.
According to Hokan, the investigation file of Rifaat al-Assad’s crimes before Swizz judicial authorities has come a long way.
He added, “The legal grounds on which the case against Rifaat al-Assad is built might change now that he has returned to Syria, for Switzerland requires the physical presence of the suspect on its territories to continue criminal proceedings. But no matter how the situation evolves, we will continue legal proceedings against Rifaat al-Assad, the godfather of war crimes and crimes against humanity perpetrators in Syria.”
In September 2017, the Swiss TRIAL International organization filed a criminal complaint against Rifaat al-Assad following a thorough investigation, on which Swiss judicial authorities charged him for his role in the 1982 Hama massacre and the 1980 Tadmur prison massacre.
This case dates back to December 2013, when the Geneva-based non-governmental organization TRIAL discovered that Rifaat al-Assad was staying in one of Geneva’s luxury hotels discussing Syria’s future, two years after the beginning of the Syrian revolution against his nephew, Syria’s incumbent president, Bashar al-Assad.
“We did not ignore Rifaat al-Assad’s crimes”
During the legal proceedings held in Switzerland, a witness made a testimony before the prosecutor last July, the Director of the Syrian Center for Legal Studies and Research, lawyer Anwar al-Bunni, told Enab Baladi.
“The witness confirmed the presence of Rifaat al-Assad in Hama during the city’s 1982 massacre. Rifaat’s lawyers were present during the hearing of the witness’s testimony, whom they questioned thoroughly about his statement,” al-Bunni said.
In April 2020, Syrian and international media and human rights advocacy organizations clamored with news of Syrian officials’ trial in Koblenz city in western Germany for crimes against humanity in the regime’s detention centers in Damascus.
A German judge convicted Eyad al-Gharib and sentenced him to four and a half years’ imprisonment for complicity in crimes against humanity, while the prime suspect, Anwar Raslan, remains on trial pending the hearing of witnesses’ statements.
“We did not ignore Rifaat al-Assad’s crimes to focus on inferior Syrian officials. We continue to build a case against him since 2014, but the search for witnesses able to make a statement is difficult, and there are attempts to continue prosecuting Rifaat in absentia in Switzerland, al-Bunni said.
The Syrian political opposition in Western countries and human rights organizations are responsible for Rifaat al-Assad’s escape from prosecution in Europe during his extended stay there, former spokesperson of the Muslim Brotherhood and the director of the Asharq al-Arabi Center, Zuhair Salem, told Enab Baladi.
In 1982, Rifaat launched his offensive against the Muslim Brotherhood movement in Hama city, which led to the killing of nearly 40,000 people, Salem said.
“There have been attempts to prosecute this man (Rifaat al-Assad) for crimes against humanity, but the European courts are governed by higher policies no matter how impartial their judicial decisions may be, preventing the opening of Rifaat’s war crimes file,” Salem added.
“The legal requirements of European courts are unattainable,” Salem added in the context of legal action raised against Rifaat al-Assad.
“Rifaat dodged accountability even after being named in many cases thanks to political reasons or courts’ rejection of evidence and witnesses’ testimonies. In addition, the lack of photos or videos proving Rifaat’s responsibility for war crimes in Syria has helped him escape justice,” Salem said.
According to Salem, the director of the Syrian Human Rights Committee (SHRC) and member of the Muslim Brotherhood, Walid Safour, tried to bring a legal case against Rifaat al-Assad and join the prosecution’s side as a witness. “However, our inability to meet legal requirements necessary for the success of previous cases, alongside political constraints, have prevented us from securing a verdict condemning Rifaat al-Assad,” Salem said.
Rifaat’s case is part of bigger “political settlements”
Samira Moubayed, a member of the civil society delegation within the Syrian Constitutional Committee (SCC), told Enab Baladi that the failure of the Syrian opposition to bring legal proceedings against Rifaat al-Assad could be attributed to two factors.
The first factor is the “inclusion of Rifaat al-Assad’s case into Syrian political settlements between several parties, including the regime and the opposition, mainly the Islamic political movement. These settlements are conducted under certain political perspectives and power-sharing objectives, with no regard to the victims’ rights or those of their families and relatives,” Moubayed said.
The second factor is “international settlements and bargains pertaining to political trends that existed and supported the Syrian regime in the past era for the ‘maintenance of security and stability in the region’ attitude, which is now undergoing radical changes,” Moubayed added.
Opinion poll
Enab Baladi conducted an opinion poll on its social media platforms and official website on the reasons that prevented the Syrian opposition outside Syria from prosecuting Rifaat al-Assad.
The poll was answered by 929 persons, of which 616 said that the reasons are related to the opposition’s focus on side issues, while 313 participants said that cases like that of Rifaat al-Assad need compelling and sufficient evidence to be completed.
Syria is not bound by extradition treaties
No intention to surrender Rifaat al-Assad to France
Article 38 of the 2012 Syrian Constitution provides that “A Syrian national may not be extradited to any foreign party,” meaning that Syria is not bound to hand over Syrian criminals fleeing accountability for crimes against humanity.
Law No. 53 of 1955 containing provisions for the extradition of ordinary criminals says, “In the absence of international conventions that have the force of law in Syria, the provisions for the extradition of ordinary criminals and those prosecuted in court for ordinary crimes and their effects shall be subject to the provisions of this law and Articles 30 to 36 of the Syrian Penal Code. These provisions apply to all cases not regulated by international conventions.”
The extradition of criminals between two countries must meet a set of conditions to be acceptable, including that the act for which extradition was requested be a misdemeanor or a felony for both countries.
However, the Syrian regime government did not release any statement incriminating Rifaat al-Assad for war crimes or crimes against humanity during his service as a military or political official in the last century.
A Damascus-based lawyer told Enab Baladi that if a Syrian national was charged with a felony punishable under Syrian law, the Syrian state could try him or her in national courts.
If the person to be extradited was not Syrian and the felony he/she committed is punishable under Syrian law, the Syrian state can extradite them to a country with which it has an extradition treaty or to the International Criminal Police Organization (Interpol).
Many foreign nationals who committed criminal acts in their countries before coming to Syria were extradited within legal regulations.
In 1983, Syria ratified the Riyadh Arab Agreement for Judicial Cooperation between States of the Arab League. This agreement is one of the extradition bases in the Syrian law, in addition to a series of bilateral agreements between Syria and some foreign and Arab countries.
Interpol: Rifaat al-Assad’s extradition is a national decision
Enab Baladi emailed Interpol about its possible arrest of Rifaat al-Assad, to which it responded, “the Interpol General Secretariat does not conduct investigations itself, and its officials do not have any powers of arrest.”
“If an individual is wanted for prosecution or to serve a sentence, the member country which is investigating that person may request the Interpol to issue a Red Notice based on a valid national arrest warrant.”
“A Red Notice is not an international arrest warrant, it is a request for international police cooperation sent to member countries’ law enforcement agencies to locate and, in accordance with the national laws of the member country, provisionally arrest a person pending extradition, surrender, or similar legal action.”
“A decision to arrest and or extradite, or not, an individual subject to a red notice is a matter for the competent national authorities,” the Interpol told Enab Baladi.
“The Interpol cannot demand that action be taken on a Notice, and whether to do so is completely within the discretion of each country.”
According to the Damascus-based lawyer, Rifaat al-Assad enjoys a broad popular base among the regime’s loyalists, and the possibility of him representing a danger to Bashar al-Assad’s regime or leading an opposition activity against it is unlikely.
Rifaat’s old age and subjection to control will prevent him from making a move against the regime in Syria, the lawyer said.
The head of the Syrian Legalists Committee, judge and chancellor Khaled Shihab Eddin, confirmed that the text of the Syrian Penal Code prohibits the extradition of Syrian nationals, whatever the crime they have committed, and in whatever territory. By law, Syria can prosecute any fugitive criminal, as in the case of Rifaat al-Assad, who could be trialed under a file submitted by France, clarifying facts and evidence and everything relating to the crime for which he was punished.
Shihab Eddin added that Syria will refrain from handing over Rifaat al-Assad, and France will not demand his extradition, as it could have prevented his escape in the first place, but did not do so.
Any extradition request from France would require communication with the Syrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs and would be looked at as an official acknowledgment of the regime or a normalization of relations with it, thus a victory for the regime’s diplomatic relations with France.
Under Syrian law procedures, the demanding state must submit a request to the Syrian authorities by diplomatic means through the Syrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs. The ministry would then transmit the request together with the extradition file to the Ministry of Justice, which would forward the request to the Extradition Commission.
The Extradition Commission is headed by the Deputy Minister of Justice and two judges appointed by an official decree and has all the powers of investigating judges, such as questioning, arresting, and releasing wanted persons. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 63 | https://www.wilsoncenter.org/article/assad-spoiler-russias-challenge-syria | en | Assad the Spoiler: Russia's Challenge in Syria | [
"https://www.wilsoncenter.org/themes/custom/wilson/assets/images/wilson-quarterly.svg",
"https://www.wilsoncenter.org/themes/custom/wilson/logo.svg?v=20210609",
"https://www.wilsoncenter.org/sites/default/files/styles/square/public/media/uploads/images/Alex_bick.jpg",
"https://www.wilsoncenter.org/themes/cust... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | en | /core/misc/favicon.ico | Wilson Center | https://www.wilsoncenter.org/article/assad-spoiler-russias-challenge-syria | Russia’s military success in Syria over the past four years has shined a most unfavorable light on the assertion – made routinely by United Nations, US, and other Western diplomats – that there was “no military solution” to Syria’s brutal civil war. Less clear is whether Russia will be able to translate gains on the battlefield into a stable political solution. On this front, dark clouds are gathering.
On April 17, Aleksandr Aksenenok, former Russian ambassador to Syria and now vice president of the Russian International Affairs Council, published a remarkably bleak assessment of the situation in Syria and the ability of that country’s leadership to resolve it. “Damascus is not particularly interested in displaying a far-sighted and flexible approach,” he wrote, adding that “a sustainable settlement is impossible unless the fundamental socio-economic causes of the conflict and the mentality that triggered it are eliminated.” Although Russia’s military operations had been successful up to this point, he concluded: “it is becoming increasingly obvious that the regime is reluctant or unable to develop a system of government that can mitigate corruption and crime and go from a military economy to normal trade and economic relations.”
Aksenenok has been critical of Damascus before, but never so directly. The concurrent publication of an article accusing the Syrian president of corruption in a paper owned by Yevgeny Prigozhin, a close ally of President Vladimir Putin, and of a poll indicating that Bashar al-Assad’s popularity within Syria had fallen to 32 percent, have fueled speculation of a coordinated media campaign aimed at publicly signaling the Kremlin’s displeasure.
If so, this would be a worrying development for Assad, whose military machine is almost entirely dependent on Russian airpower, weapons, and technical expertise. But the alternative – that the pieces were published independently – would be just as significant, as it would suggest more general frustration with Russia’s main Syrian partner bubbling to the surface.
What might this mean for the future of Russia’s involvement in Syria?
The two countries have cooperated since the mid-1950s, but the partnership has been more transactional and strained than is sometimes acknowledged. During the Cold War, Russian officials fretted about Syria’s adventurous foreign policy and, despite substantial aid, found Hafez al-Assad difficult if not impossible to control. When the Soviet Union collapsed, ties frayed, only to be restored around 2005, when Russia’s desire to assert an independent foreign policy, including in the Middle East, intersected with mounting Western pressure on Syria.
The two countries have cooperated since the mid-1950s, but the partnership has been more transactional and strained than is sometimes acknowledged.
Since the 2011 uprising, and especially after 2015, Russian support has been robust, but Russian officials – including Putin himself – have consistently distanced themselves from the person of the Syrian president. Throughout multiple rounds of UN-brokered peace talks in Geneva, Russian diplomats insisted they were “not wedded to Assad.” Some believe this was never more than a ruse, intended to manipulate hopeful Western officials and buy time for Russia to consolidate Assad’s position. Certainly, this approach afforded Russia more flexibility than did President Obama’s call for Assad to “step aside.” But it also reflects the fact that Russia’s support was never about Assad (or even Syria) in the first place. Rather, it was motivated by the desire to prevent the United States from toppling another unfriendly regime, ending Moscow’s isolation over its actions in Ukraine, and ensuring continued access to the Mediterranean. In this, Assad has been a tool and, under the right circumstances, probably a dispensable one.
This should not be taken to mean that Russia is now prepared to accept a political transition in Syria along the lines laid out in UN Security Council Resolution 2254, for several reasons. The fear that Assad’s removal could lead to the chaotic collapse of the highly-personalized political system his father helped to build more than forty years ago makes that approach too risky. At a more practical level, Iran’s steadfast support for Assad limits Russia’s influence over domestic politics. And, probably above all else, Russia has placed Syria at the center of a narrative that emphasizes Russia’s defense of national sovereignty and reliability as a security partner. Any whiff of capitulation to the United States on Assad’s fate would puncture that narrative in ways that would negatively impact Russia’s foreign policy aspirations far beyond Syria.
...Russia has placed Syria at the center of a narrative that emphasizes Russia’s defense of national sovereignty and reliability as a security partner.
Nevertheless, the challenges for Russia are daunting. The first is military: Turkey and the United States stand in the way of a complete victory, leaving a major concentration of hardened fighters and extremists in Idlib province, close to Russia’s Hmeimim base, and denying the government access to oil and gas resources in the east. While the future of the US military presence is uncertain, Turkey’s military build-up suggests it is planning to stay. At the same time, an insurgency is brewing in the south, an area in which Russia was deeply involved in a series of de-escalation agreements and where Russian military police continue to patrol.
Politically, Assad has once again dug in his heels, undermining even the modest aspirations of the UN-led process to reform Syria’s constitution that Russian officials initially touted as an important step on a “long road” to peace. As political scientists have found in other contexts, military assistance does not necessarily translate into influence; in Syria, Russia’s success in stabilizing Assad’s government may have left Moscow with less leverage, not more.
In fairness, Syria has always been difficult to govern. Depending on how you count, there were at least five coups d’état between independence in 1947 and the “corrective movement” that brought Hafez al-Assad to power in 1970. The Assad family imposed order by building a ruthless security state, cloaking its Alawite character in Ba’athism, and playing up the Palestinian cause to bolster its domestic legitimacy. Of these three methods, only the first appears to have survived the civil war. A more able politician might co-opt former opponents and draw on Syrian patriotism or the incredible resilience of the Syrian people to begin to heal the wounds of war. But Bashar al-Assad is not that leader, and Russia knows it.
A more able politician might co-opt former opponents and draw on Syrian patriotism or the incredible resilience of the Syrian people to begin to heal the wounds of war. But Bashar al-Assad is not that leader, and Russia knows it.
Finally, there is the economic challenge. Russia’s gamble that the United States and European Union would ultimately accept a cosmetic political deal and foot the bill for reconstruction – if only to stem the flow of refugees – is not panning out. Instead, tightened US sanctions and the collapse of the Lebanese banking system are eroding what’s left of Syria’s economy. In the absence of a “peace dividend,” Assad is mollifying those who remained loyal with property and businesses appropriated from Syrians who fled during the war. Russia, meanwhile, is finding it difficult to extract economic benefits in Syria that would help offset the costs of its military campaign.
Make no mistake: those costs are sustainable, and on balance Putin’s intervention in Syria continues to look to many Russians and others like a major success. The military threat to Assad’s rule is over. Russia has tested and found new markets for its weapons systems. Its relationships with Iran, Turkey, Israel, and the Gulf states have all deepened, and its prestige in the region has been greatly enhanced. Nevertheless, it is hard to see where further gains will come from, and there may be heavier costs if the situation deteriorates further. The collapse of oil prices and economic disruption resulting from COVID-19 make these issues more urgent.
In Assad, Russia found a willing if highly-imperfect partner. It is ironic, though perhaps predictable, that at just the moment many in Europe, and at least some in the United States, have accepted his continued rule, Russian frustration with Assad is growing. Nevertheless, for the time being, Assad and Russia still need one another. It may be that Moscow is prepared to accept Syria as a failed state in which Russia can continue to act as an arbiter among regional and international powers, while waiting for opportunities to emerge in the future. But Putin would almost certainly relish the chance to play peacemaker. In that case, Russia will need to convince others, especially Turkey and the United States, that it is prepared to use the leverage it still has in Damascus. Otherwise, Assad will spoil its plans.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not reflect an official position of the Wilson Center. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 97 | https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/%3Fid%3D185558073 | en | Steam Community :: Error | [
"https://community.akamai.steamstatic.com/public/shared/images/responsive/logo_valve_footer.png",
"https://community.akamai.steamstatic.com/public/shared/images/responsive/header_menu_hamburger.png",
"https://community.akamai.steamstatic.com/public/shared/images/responsive/header_logo.png",
"https://community... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | en | /favicon.ico | null | |||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 78 | https://coincraft.com/syria-assad-father-son-1000-2000-pounds-pr-p111117-unc | en | Syria Assad Father & Son 1000 & 2000 Pounds Pr P111/117 Unc | [
"https://coincraft.com/images/thumbs/002/0021757_Artboard 1Smaller .png",
"https://coincraft.com/images/thumbs/002/0021421_syria-assad-father-son-1000-2000-pounds-pr-p111117-unc_340.jpeg",
"https://coincraft.com/images/thumbs/002/0021421_syria-assad-father-son-1000-2000-pounds-pr-p111117-unc_77.jpeg",
"https:... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | An Uncirculated pair of notes featuring members of the Assad family who have ruled Syria since 1971. The father, Hafez al Assad was in power for 29 years from 1971 until his death in 2000. His eldest son was expected to succeed him but was killed in a car accident in 1994. In 2000 Hafez was succeeded by the current President of Syria, his second son, Bashar al Assad. We offer Uncirculated examples of the 1997 1000 pounds featuring Hafez’s portrait (P111/TBB626) and the 2000 pounds issued in more recent times with Bashar al Assad’s portrait(P117/TBB632) Other illustrations include the inner chamber of Parliament and vignettes of oil drilling, agriculture and electricity pylons. Limited availability. | en | \icons\icons_0\favicon.ico | Coincraft.com | https://coincraft.com/syria-assad-father-son-1000-2000-pounds-pr-p111117-unc | Liberia 5-20 Dollars 2016-7 P31-3 Unc
A Trio of notes issued by Liberia. Dated between 2016 and 2017, our trio comprises the 5, 10, and 20 values (P31-3)/ The fronts are dominated by portraits of important citizens in the history of the country- Edward J Roye, Joseph J Roberts and William V S Tubman. Vignettes from daily life such as rubber tapping, the rice harvest and a market scene are on the backs.
£7.75
Iran 1-10 Tomans (10,000-100,000 Rials) P160-3 Unc
I ran has suffered runaway inflation in the last few years and this is reflected in the banknotes issued. The currency has been revalued 10,000 to 1 and a new name introduced. The old 10,000 rials is now the 1 toman and so on. The old value is on the back of the note while the new value appears on the front. We offer a quartet of new ‘toman’ notes ranging from the 1 through to the 10. These are the equivalent of the old 10,000 rials to the 100,000 rials (P160-3) A portrait of the father of the Islamic Revolution, Ayatollah Khomeini, is on the fronts while illustrations on the backs include the tombs of Ibn Sina in Hamadan, the Mausoleum of Poets in Tabuz and the tombs of Hafez and Saadi in Shiraz. Uncirculated.
£8.75 | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 34 | https://www.csmonitor.com/World/Middle-East/2011/0330/President-Assad-s-defiant-speech-stuns-Syrians-who-call-for-more-protests | en | President Assad's defiant speech stuns Syrians who call for more protests | [
"https://www.csmonitor.com/extension/csm_base/design/csm_design/images/csm-logo-200.svg",
"https://www.csmonitor.com/extension/csm_base/design/standard/images/apple-touch-icon.png",
"https://www.csmonitor.com/extension/csm_base/design/csm_design/images/csm-logo-100.svg",
"https://www.csmonitor.com/extension/c... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Nicholas Blanford",
"The Christian Science Monitor"
] | 2011-03-30T12:34:00-04:00 | In a long-awaited speech to the nation following multiple deadly protests this past week, Syria's President Bashar al-Assad failed to announce concrete changes or meet any of the protesters' expectations. | en | /extension/csm_base/design/standard/images/favicon.ico | The Christian Science Monitor | https://www.csmonitor.com/World/Middle-East/2011/0330/President-Assad-s-defiant-speech-stuns-Syrians-who-call-for-more-protests | Syrian President Bashar al-Assad struck a defiant stance Wednesday, blaming “conspiracies” for two weeks of unprecedented antiregime protests and stopping short of offering a widely anticipated reform package.
The content of Mr. Assad’s first address since the unrest began dismayed the opposition, which had hoped that the president would reveal details of how he plans to reform the tightly policed state. Despite the government earlier this week dismissing the ruling cabinet and hinting at lifting the emergency law, Assad failed to announce concrete changes or meet any of the protesters' expectations.
“We have returned to the point zero,” says Razan Zeitouneh, a human rights lawyer in Damascus.
Think you know the Middle East? Take our geography quiz.
Protests that erupted two weeks ago in the southern city of Deraa have since spread to cities around the country, including in the capital, sparking clashes with police that have killed more than 60 people. Regional neighbors have watched with trepidation, as the unrest could have major strategic ramifications for allies Iran, Hezbollah, and Hamas.
Looking relaxed and smiling and chuckling frequently, Assad delivered his hour-long address to the Syrian parliament in a customary conversational tone. His statements were interrupted every few minutes by parliamentarians standing up and offering individual messages of support and loyalty. He entered and exited to a standing ovation, and was frequently interrupted with coordinated applause.
“Only God, Syria, and Bashar!” chanted the parliamentarians.
Assad says not all protesters are 'conspirators'
“I am talking to you at an exceptional time. It is a test that happened to be repeated due to conspiracies against the country,” said Assad, who became president in 2000 on the death of his father, Hafez al-Assad. “God willing, we will overcome [this conspiracy].”
He acknowledged that reforms have been slow in coming, but he blamed the delay on traumatic distractions over the past decade, including the 2000-2005 Palestinian intifada, the September 2001 attacks, the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq, and the Hezbollah-Israel war of 2006.
“We know we haven’t addressed many of the people's aspirations,” he said, adding that not all those that have taken to the streets since March 15 were “conspirators.”
He said that Syria was heading toward “another phase” and admitted that proceeding without reforms “destroys the country.” He said that there would be new measures to combat corruption and “enhance national unity” and that the new government would announce them later. The previous government of Prime Minister Najib Ottari resigned Tuesday, and a new premier is yet to be named.
In keeping with past addresses at times of crisis, Assad gave away little in terms of what reforms the regime is considering to implement and when. “We want to speed [reforms] up, but not be [too] hasty,” he said.
Expectations dashed
Those words disappointed many. Protesters have been calling for the repeal of the emergency law that permits arrest without warrant and gives sweeping powers to the security apparatus, and also for the repeal of the political parties law that limits the formation of opposition groups.
“The emergency law and political parties law have been under study for a year,” Assad said today. “There are more, unannounced reforms… but giving a time frame is a matter of logistics.”
But even Syrian authorities and state-run media had indicated in recent days that Assad would use his address to announce a raft of reform proposals, including the repeal of the state of emergency law in place since 1963 and a loosening of media restrictions. The leaks of promised reforms ahead of the speech created a heightened sense of expectation that has been dashed by the vague content of the speech.
“It would have been better if he had said nothing than to raise everyone’s hopes beforehand only to crush them again,” says one Syrian activist who requested anonymity.
Protesters' repeat demands
Radwan Ziadeh, a Washington-based Syrian human rights activist, said that Syrian opposition figures were in agreement on several key demands:
a new democratic constitution
ending the state of emergency
release of all political prisoners
a new political parties law
reform of media laws
a new elections law
the formation of a truth and reconciliation committee to investigate past human rights abuses
granting full political rights to Syrian Kurds
restructuring the security and intelligence apparatus
Initial reactions carried by Twitter revealed considerable disappointment in Assad’s speech. “There’s nothing of substance here, nothing at all. Promising to do what he’s been saying he’ll do for 10 years already,” tweeted karimmb.
Anne-Marie Slaughter, a professor of politics and international affairs at Princeton University, tweeted “Short version Bashar speech: reforms maybe. Foreign conspiracies definitely. Satellite channels are bad.”
The Syria Revolution 2011 Facebook page called on protesters to take to the streets immediately following Assad’s speech. “Go down into the streets now and announce the uprising – control all the cities and declare civil disobedience from this moment onward,” it declared.
The question now is whether the opposition will redouble its efforts by escalating the unrest that has left dozens dead and shaken the country. A litmus test may occur in Friday, Islam’s holy day and usually a focal point for street demonstrations following noon prayers.
According to opposition activists, a new young leadership is beginning to emerge and coordinate after two weeks of demonstrations. If the uprising intensifies and spreads it will almost certainly lead to greater bloodshed.
Mr. Ziadeh says that the Syrian president “was very clear in saying that there is no neutrality – either you are with us or against the country.”
“We ask the international community to act now and not to wait for more victims from the Syrian side,” he adds.
(Editor's note: The original article has been updated with additional comment.) | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 56 | https://www.exhibitoronline.com/awards/expo/peoplesChoice-display.asp%3Fentry%3DSyria | en | [] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | null | ||||||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 18 | https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2019/06/timeline-syria-conflict-civil-war/ | en | A Timeline of the Syria Conflict – Mother Jones | [
"https://www.motherjones.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/FurneauxRosa.jpg?w=60&h=60&crop=1",
"https://www.motherjones.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/20190603_syria-timeline_2000.jpg?w=990",
"https://www.motherjones.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/RTR8TOK.jpg",
"https://www.motherjones.com/wp-content/uploads/201... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Rosa Furneaux",
"Inae Oh",
"Dan Friedman",
"Sophie Hurwitz",
"Kiera Butler",
"Julia Métraux",
"Jackie Flynn Mogensen",
"Isabela Dias",
"Abby Vesoulis",
"Arianna Coghill"
] | 2019-06-12T06:00:16 | How the civil war unfolded, from Damascus to Washington, DC. | en | Mother Jones | https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2019/06/timeline-syria-conflict-civil-war/ | 1970
Hafez al-Assad seizes power in a coup within the Baath Party. He becomes president of Syria the following year.
1980
Syria and the Soviet Union sign a treaty of friendship and cooperation.
1982
In response to a Sunni rebellion in Hama, Assad’s military destroys the city and kills at least 20,000 people.
2000
Assad dies. He is succeeded by his son Bashar, who many Syrians hope will be a reformer.
2002
Undersecretary of State John Bolton includes Syria in a list of countries “beyond the axis of evil” that are seeking weapons of mass destruction.
2004
President George W. Bush imposes sanctions on Syria, asserting that it has ties to terrorism.
2005
Tensions between the United States and Syria escalate after former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri is assassinated by a truck bomb, allegedly with help from Assad’s regime.
2010
The United States renews sanctions against Syria, saying that it seeks weapons of mass destruction.
March 2011
Protests begin in Daraa after police torture teenagers who had painted anti-regime graffiti. As mass demonstrations spread, the Assad regime cracks down violently.
July 2011
Military defectors create the Free Syrian Army, Syria’s first armed opposition group.
July 2011
Assad sends troops into Hama and Deir Ezzor, killing hundreds of civilians.
August 2011
President Barack Obama calls for Assad to step down.
December 2011
Al Qaeda’s new Syrian affiliate, the Nusra Front, stages a suicide bombing in Damascus.
May 2012
The United States begins sending “nonlethal” aid to Syrian rebels.
June 2012
The United States, Russia, Turkey, Iraq, and other countries meet in Geneva to discuss a transition to a “democratic and pluralistic” Syria.
August 2012
Obama warns Assad that using chemical weapons would cross a “red line,” triggering US military intervention.
April 2013
The Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) forms.
May 2013
Hezbollah forces launch an offensive “to aid the Assad regime.”
July 2013
Congressional intelligence committees approve CIA arms shipments to the Syrian opposition.
August 2013
The Syrian government uses sarin in an attack on Ghouta, killing more than 1,400 people. The following month, Congress rejects Obama’s request to approve a military response.
September 2013
The Syrian government agrees to hand over its chemical weapons stocks for destruction.
November 2013
Kurdish parties establish the autonomous region of Rojava in northern Syria.
June 2014
ISIS declares the creation of a caliphate across its territory in Syria and Iraq.
September 2014
Congress authorizes the Pentagon to train and arm Syrian rebels. In what will become known as Operation Inherent Resolve, the United States and its coalition partners begin airstrikes against ISIS.
September 2015
As the number of refugees tops 4 million, a photograph of a drowned Syrian toddler provokes international concern over the humanitarian crisis. After reaffirming its treaty with Syria, Russia officially joins the war, carrying out airstrikes and providing military aid to Assad.
December 2015
As the Obama administration’s focus in Syria shifts toward ISIS, the Pentagon says special operations troops will be deployed “to fight in Syria and Iraq.”
December 2016
Supported by Russian planes, the Syrian government retakes Aleppo, a major rebel stronghold.
January 2017
President Donald Trump blocks Syrian refugees from entering the United States. (Fewer than 3,100 have been admitted since he took office.)
March 2017
UN Ambassador Nikki Haley says the Trump administration’s “priority is no longer to sit there and focus on getting Assad out.”
April 2017
Following another chemical attack by the Syrian government, Trump announces a missile strike.
May 2017
Over Turkey’s objections, Trump approves a plan to arm Kurdish forces in Syria.
July 2017
Trump ends the CIA program to support anti-Assad rebels.
October 2017
After months of heavy coalition bombing and ground assaults by the US-backed Syrian Democratic Forces, ISIS is driven out of Raqqa, losing its self-proclaimed capital.
February 2018
Pro-Syrian government forces, including Russian mercenaries, attack the US-held Conoco gas plant outside Deir Ezzor city. The Geneva peace process that opened in 2012 ends.
March 2018
Turkey and the FSA seize Afrin, a Kurdish region in northwest Syria.
April 2018
After a chemical attack in Douma, the United States, Britain, and France launch airstrikes against Syrian government targets.
July 2018
Assad’s army recaptures part of southern Syria from rebel forces.
October 2018
US military officials report that an SDF offensive has isolated the “last pocket of ISIS resistance” in eastern Syria.
December 2018
Trump announces the withdrawal of all US troops from Syria. Defense Secretary James Mattis resigns in protest.
February 2019
ISIS’s remaining fighters are trapped in shrinking enclaves. Trump says he should receive a Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts in Syria. “I stopped the slaughter of perhaps 3 million people,” he says. When members of Congress request that some troops stay in Syria, Trump writes back, “I agree 100%.”
October 2019
The White House says it will allow Turkish forces to invade northern Syria. Facing criticism for this unexpected move, Trump tweets “if Turkey does anything that I, in my great and unmatched wisdom, consider to be off limits, I will totally destroy and obliterate the Economy of Turkey.”
Listen to “Behind the Lines,” a Mother Jones Podcast series. Shane Bauer reports from Syria on America’s role in one of the 21st century’s bloodiest conflicts. Episode One takes you to the former ISIS stronghold of Raqqa, where forensic teams conduct the harrowing work of uncovering thousands of bodies from the rubble. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 42 | https://www.ifimes.org/en/researches/syria-between-oppression-and-freedom/3325 | en | Syria: Between oppression and freedom | [
"https://www.ifimes.org/img/ifi.jpg",
"https://www.ifimes.org/img/ifi.jpg"
] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | The International Institute for Middle-East and Balkan Studies (IFIMES) in Ljubljana, Slovenia, regularly analyses events in the Middle East and the Balkans. IFIMES has analysed current events in Syria with an emphasis on the beginning of mass protests against the ruling regime. The most relevant and interesting sections from the analysis entitled “SYRIA: BETWEEN OPPRESSION AND FREEDOM” are published below. | https://www.ifimes.org/en/researches/syria-between-oppression-and-freedom/3325 | SYRIA:
BETWEEN OPPRESSION AND FREEDOM
Syria, which is 185,180 km² large and has 17,585,540 inhabitants (according to data collected in 2002), is the sixth Middle Eastern country to experience a beginning of an uprising against the second biggest tyrant in the Middle East (after the Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein), namely Bashar Al-Assad. The uprising began accidentally on 18th March 2011 in a city named Daraa in the south of Syria, very close to Jordanian border, when the secret police arrested some children between the ages of 13 and 14, who were singing songs from the Egyptian uprising. The parents of the arrested children came to the police station and demanded their children be set free and consequently the demonstrations spread across the whole city. The safety authorities started shooting the demonstrators after they had burned down the seat of the ruling party and destroyed the monument of Hafez Al-Assad, both being the obnoxious symbols of a totalitarian regime. It happened exactly the same way as in Iraq eight years ago, when the Americans took over Baghdad on that same day and destroyed the monument of Saddam Hussein in the city centre a few weeks later.
The demonstrations spread from Daraa to Damascus, the capital. Unlike in other Arab uprisings, the activists from Facebook and Twitter haven't managed to gather enough protesters on the streets of Syrian cities. The demonstrations continue in limited numbers, with security forces constantly intervening and settling issues with the demonstrators in an aggressive and bloody manner.
The crucial question, which is constantly arising these days is: why didn't the young activists and the opposition manage to gather a larger number of Syrian citizens to take part in these protests?
In our opinion there are three factors, which could provide us with a partial answer. These factors are: oppression and fear, utilitarian and self-interest and the international context.
OPPRESSION AND FEAR
Oppression and fear with repression are methods of governance of the authoritarian tyrannical regimes in the Arab world, while the Syrian regime is one of the most authoritarian in the world. This regime is a blend of the well-known regimes in North Korea and Iran. The ruling party called Baath is, similarly as in North Korea, implanted in every segment of the society. The Shia Alawite minority, from which stems the Al-Assad dynasty has occupied the most important positions in the party and in the country for 40 years, the country where the extraordinary circumstances have been going on since 1963.
The security services are "the backbone" of the regime, while the partisan militia, the police and the army perform executive tasks. According to some data the percentage of the employees in the Syrian security services is one among the highest in the world, namely one member of the security services per 158 citizens. This number doesn't include various party colleagues, who have to regularly monitor and spy after their colleagues and neighbours on the behest of their superiors, regardless of their employment (health, universities, industry, etc.). They have to record all events in their weekly reports, which have to be regularly submitted to their superiors.
In the eighties, the regime confronted its opponents with tanks and rockets. The attack on Hama, the centre of Sunni Muslim fraternities, in 1982 is well known. 38.000 inhabitants of Hama lost their lives in this attack (Robert Fisk - The Independent). In the attack on the desert prison Tadmur (Palmyra) in 1980, 2000 prisoners were killed, whereas the same number of people lost their lives during the attack on the largest city in Syria, Aleppo. In the book called Human Rights Watch (HRW), entitled "Syria exposed", this period is called the period of great oppression, because in the world of modern contemporary communications, no such massacres can be hidden.
The regime was contented with the policy of sticks and carrots. The police arrested all the symbols and leaders of the political movements and non-governmental organizations, they shut down the internet forums, prohibited the activists to travel abroad and used other methods of harassment and intimidation.
UTILITARIAN AND SELF-INTEREST FACTOR
The utilitarian and self-interest factor is the second biggest obstacle besides oppression and fear. There are three groups of self-interest individuals. The first group are the powerful and influential people in the party and in the army, who linked their destiny to the destiny of Al-Assad dynasty. The second group is the economic mafia, which is connected with the relatives of the president and also with the first group. They control the larger state-owned and private companies in the fields of telecommunications, trade and energy. The third group comprises members of some other minorities, such as the Christian community, which is being constantly intimidated by the Islamic extremists coming to power in the case of the fall of the regime.
THE INTERNATIONAL CONTEXT
The international context is the third most important factor, which is keeping the regime afloat. The question is how the regime became such an important regional factor that the American and other Western diplomats so frequently visit Damascus to seek advice there? The Americans and the West are very well aware of the fact that the regime supports and gives shelter to the extreme organizations such as Hamas and Hezbollah, also being an ally of Iran, which is constantly defying the international community, that it is accused of destabilization of Lebanon, since 2003 it has opened its "hermetic" borders with Iraq and thus facilitated the transfer of the terrorists and extremists to Iraq, so they can perform deadly suicidal attacks on coalition forces and Iraqi civilians, while its border with Israel on the occupied Golan heights one of the most peaceful in the world. Strangely enough, Syria is the only country bordering Israel, which has been at war with Israel since 1948. Syria has been developing a nuclear programme, which was bombed and destroyed by Israel, and there are several other contradictory actions that are in opposition with the international law.
The answer to the question about the important role of Syria in the region is that the regime evaded and misled the international community. In the time of the war against terrorism in 2001 the regime played a dual role and provided intelligence data about terrorist groups and individuals in the Middle East. The USA was very grateful to the Syrian authorities until the arrival of the Americans in Iraq in 2003, when the fear arose that Damascus was the next stop of the American policy of introducing democracy with force in the Middle East, after Baghdad. The regime has played a central role in exporting the terrorists to Iraq.
The policy of Syria towards Lebanon, which was under Syrian domination for several years was disastrous. Syria was an important actor in the Lebanese civil war in 1975-1990. An example of bold meddling into Lebanese inner affairs was, for example, the insistence of president Bashar Al-Assad on mandate extension of the Lebanese President Emil Lahud in 2004, despite the fact that all Lebanese parties were against it.
The highlight of interference in internal affairs was the Syrian role in the assassination of Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri on 14th February 2005, which led to the Syrian intelligence service being accused by the international investigators. This was followed by resolution no. UN 1559, which requires Syria to withdraw its troops situated in Lebanon since 1975. It's only then that Syria first experienced the isolation by the U.S., which recalled its ambassador from Syria. This was repeated by other Western and Arab countries.
Syrian isolation did not last long. In early 2007, the region developed new facts that were in favour of Syria: the failure of the Israeli attack on Lebanese Hezbollah in 2006, Iraq before the civil war between Shiites and Sunnis in 2007, and the direct failure of American efforts to introduce democracy to Iraq and the failure Israeli campaign against Hamas in Gaza in 2009.
The Syrian regime has become a regional winner in early 2010. Turkey has played an important role in the return of Syria to the international arena. The latter has accepted Turkey's role as a mediator to continue the indirect Syrian-Israeli peace negotiations. The USA have appointed a new ambassador in Damascus.
Now, when the bloody confrontation of the regime with its own people is taking place, there is no interest in the West to help the Syrian people. Israel's security is crucial for Western tolerance towards the Syrian regime - after the fall of Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak the Israeli - Egyptian border has become questionable once again, as well as the Egypt peace treaty with Israel. In Jordan, Islamist held demonstrations that are threatening the stable Kingdom are taking place. Jordan ratified a peace treaty with Israel in 1994. Hamas is constantly rocketing Israel. The only peaceful border with Israel is Syria, that's why the West does not want to interfere in "internal" Syrian affairs. Time is sensitive, possibly because of the failure of western operations in Libya (Odysseus dawn), which is an additional reason to keep Western powers at hand in terms of Syria.
OPPOSITION PARTIES IN SYRIA
Syria's political map contains several political parties. A part of the opposition operates within the regime's National Progressive Front (NPF), while the other opposition parties suffer from a number of regime's restrictions and repression. Some operate from abroad.
Among the most important opposition political parties in Syria include:
1. Communist Party, formed in 1924. Its leader, 80-year-old Riyadh Al-Turk, who spent more time in prison than in liberty. He is called by some the Nelson Mandela of Syria.
2. The Muslim Brotherhoods Movement was founded in 1942 and stems from the Muslim Brotherhood of Egypt, which was founded in 1928. Until 1962 it participated in several governments. Former President Hafez Al-Assad has banned its operation in 1980. After the Israeli action in Gaza in 2009, the movement cancelled their opposition to the regime and has since then been in a passive opposition.
3. The Front of the National Solution was founded in Brussels in 2006 in the presence of former Vice President Abdul Halima Khaddama, who resigned in 2005 and emigrated to Paris. Also the leaders of the Muslim Brotherhoods Movement and some other leftist and liberal groups were present at the Brussels meeting.
4. The Justice and Construction Movement was founded in 2006 in London. Analysts share the opinion that the movement is the only one acceptable for all Syrian ethnic and religious groups. The movement demands a peaceful transfer of power, preparation for democratic elections and the return of all exiles, as well as the amnesty of political prisoners.
5. ISLAH - this reform party was founded in the U.S. after 11 September 2001. Its leader is controversial Farid Ghadry, who has dual Syrian - American citizenship. The party has close contacts with American neoconservatives and the Jewish Lobby. It demands the overthrow of the regime by the U.S. following the Iraqi model.
6. The Arab Socialist Movement was founded in 1954. Today it is divided into two parts. Part of it is under the leadership of Abdel Ghani Ayyasha, who cooperates with the government.
7. The Arab Socialist Union
8. The Revolutionary Workers' Party
9. The Communist Workers' Party
10. The party of Modernization and Democracy is a liberal party of Syrian Kurds, which was founded in 1996,
11. Kurdish Democratic Party was founded in 1970.
Regime National Progressive front (FNP) was established on 7 March 1972 by the ruling Baath Party and other six satellite parties. Their role is to confirm the regime policy. In the constituting article of the FNP it is clear that the Baath Party leads the country and the society.
The parties constituting the FNP are:
1. The Arab Socialist Baath Party founded on 7 April 1947;
2. Dissident fraction of the Communist Party of Syria;
3. Arab Socialist Union (Nasserists) founded in 1964;
4. Arab Socialist Movement founded in 1961;
5. Arab Socialist Party;
6. The Democratic Unionist Socialist Party;
7. Arab Democratic Union Party.
International Institute IFIMES believes that the international community should react in case of Syria by putting pressure on the regime to start reforming from within. The UN can play an important role in establishing dialogue between the regime and the opposition.
The international community should avoid errors in the future. It has probably learned something from the cases of Iraq, Tunisia and Libya, where there was a collapse of the regime and consequently problems with filling the political vacuum. All the countries of the Middle East need an adequate transitional period for the preparations for the transfer of power to democratically elected representatives. Syrians and other nations in the Middle East lack experience at abolishing one-party regimes, crisis managing and disposing of residues of the dark past. | |||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 17 | https://www.af.mil/News/Tag/22532/syria/ | en | News | [
"https://www.af.mil/Portals/_default/Skins/AirForce3/Assets/images/af-logo-seal.png",
"https://media.defense.gov/2021/Jul/16/2002803981/-1/-1/0/210615-D-IJ948-9001.JPG",
"https://media.defense.gov/2023/Feb/21/2003165252/300/300/0/230221-F-FV908-0378.JPG",
"https://media.defense.gov/2019/Jun/11/2002143845/300/... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2023-02-22T00:00:00 | en | /Portals/1/AF favicon 9 Jan.ico?ver=2UiSWi2oAE1AXeHI4Dxcyg%3d%3d | null | Feb. 22, 2023
JB San Antonio Airmen support Türkiye, Syria earthquake relief efforts
Airmen assigned to Joint Base San Antonio’s 502nd Logistics Readiness Squadron, in coordination with the Air Force Medical Readiness Agency, prepared approximately 68 short tons of medical equipment for movement to Incirlik Air Base, Türkiye, in less than 48 hours.
June 12, 2019
AMLO brings expertise to fight in Syria
An AMLO from the 621st MSOS, aligned with the 82nd Airborne Division, recently found himself in Syria working to provide expertise in multiple areas and maintain a runway under harsh conditions.
Jan. 31, 2018
RPA aviators recognized with Doolittle Award
Airmen assigned to the 432nd Wing/432nd Air Expeditionary Wing at Creech Air Force Base, Nevada, received the Air Force Historical Foundation’s 2017, James H. “Jimmy” Doolittle Award, Jan. 30, 2018, at the U.S. Air Force Memorial in Arlington, Va., for their contributions to aviation history.
Jan. 16, 2018
386th ELRS moves thousands of passengers, cargo
The Air Force is required to move hundreds of thousands of tons of cargo a year in support of military operations around the world. The importance of this mission is clear for the men and women who serve the 386th Expeditionary Logistics Readiness Squadron.
Jan. 3, 2018
Year-end review: 386th AEW remembers banner year
As the world celebrated the passing of another year, and looked to the future with optimistic hope, the 386th Air Expeditionary Wing, and its leadership, reflected on its accomplishments.
Dec. 5, 2017
Combat RPAs integral in defeating ISIS
U.S. forces, coalition partners and Syrian Democratic Forces liberated Raqqah, Syria from the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria’s control in early October 2017. ISIS used the city as its capital for terrorist operations since January 2014.
July 17, 2017
A-10 pilot spits fire in fight against ISIS
Originally tasked to deploy as an A-10 pilot in support of Operation Inherent Resolve, Lt. Col. Ben Rudolphi saw his mission change before even leaving the U.S.Instead of manning his aircraft, he was given the opportunity to lead others as the commander of the 407th Expeditionary Operation Support
April 6, 2017
MQ-1, MQ-9 aircrews help liberate Manbij
In 2016, U.S. Air Force MQ-1 Predator and MQ-9 Reaper aircrews assisted coalition partners in the reclamation of Manbij, Syria, from Islamic State of Iraq and Syria forces.Pilots and sensor operators assigned to squadrons across the 432nd Wing and the 432nd Air Expeditionary Wing provided the close
Jan. 5, 2017
US-led coalition airstrikes eliminate key ISIL leaders in Syria, Iraq
U.S.-led coalition airstrikes in Iraq and Syria targeting the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant have recently killed several prominent leaders of that organization, Air Force Col. John Dorrian, Combined Joint Task Force Operation Inherent Resolve spokesman, said during a news briefing Jan. 4,
Aug. 16, 2016
Goldfein talks air coalition ops during CENTCOM region visit
Air Force Chief of Staff Gen. David L. Goldfein recently visited the U.S. Central Command area of responsibility to get a sense of not only how the campaign is going as a member of the joint chiefs but also to get an understanding of how he can better support Airmen, Soldiers, Sailors, Marines and
July 8, 2016
Around the Air Force: July 8
In this look around the Air Force the first enlisted RQ-4 Global Hawk pilots have been selected for training, an MQ-9 Reaper crashed in northern Syria, and a C-17 Globemaster III was awarded the best static display at an air show in England.
July 5, 2016
MQ-9 crashes in northern Syria
An MQ-9 Reaper crashed in northern Syria July 5. The aircraft was flying a combat mission when positive control of the aircraft was lost. The remotely piloted aircraft crash was not due to enemy fire. There are no reports of civilian injuries or damage to civilian property at the crash site.
April 26, 2016
Pentagon spokesman: Up to 250 more U.S. forces to deploy to Syria
Up to 250 additional U.S. personnel are being deployed to Syria to support local forces on the ground and build on successes of U.S. forces already deployed there in the fight against the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, the Pentagon's press secretary said April 25.
March 31, 2016
Carter announces Operation Inherent Resolve Campaign Medal
Service members who serve or have served in Iraq or Syria as part of Operation Inherent Resolve will receive the Inherent Resolve Campaign Medal, Defense Secretary Ash Carter announced March 30 in Tampa, Florida.
Feb. 25, 2016
Precision strikes keeping enemy on target
Lessons learned in past conflicts have now made it possible to bomb enemy targets within just a few feet to reduce collateral damage, a top Air Force commander said Feb. 25 at the Air Force Association’s Air Warfare Symposium in Orlando, Florida.
Feb. 18, 2016
General: Airpower key to ISIL fight; strikes to continue
The head of Operation Inherent Resolve’s air campaign said Feb. 18 the “most precise air campaign in history” has severely hurt terrorist plans across Iraq and Syria, with more airstrikes to come.
Dec. 30, 2015
Coalition airstrikes kill 10 senior ISIL leaders in December
A high-value Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant leader killed by U.S.-led coalition airstrikes Dec. 24 was just one of 10 ISIL leaders targeted and killed so far this month, Combined Joint Task Force Operation Inherent Resolve spokesman Army Col. Steve Warren confirmed Dec. 29.
Oct. 7, 2015
435th AGOW deploys team, expands OIR mission
Full certainty is never guaranteed in the military, which is why Airmen are trained to deploy at a moment's notice and hit the grounding running when they’re called upon. For Airmen assigned to the 435th Contingency Response Group, that need came Aug. 12 when the unit deployed to Diyarbakir Air
Oct. 5, 2015
Airmen, aircraft set up in Turkey to support recovery ops in Syria, Iraq
U.S. Air Forces Central Command has begun staging small detachments of aircraft and airmen at Diyarbakir Air Base in southeast Turkey to enhance coalition capabilities to support personnel recovery operations in Syria and Iraq.
Sept. 29, 2014
F-22 Raptor brings unique capabilities to the coalition fight against ISIL
The Air Force’s fifth generation fighter, the F-22 Raptor made its combat debut with its first strike on enemy ground targets in the fight against, Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant during the most recent joint coalition campaign.
Sept. 29, 2014
'Decisive' air power thwarts ISIL's capabilities, official says
Air power has stymied Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant terrorists, with the Air Force accomplishing 74 percent of the more than 240 airstrikes in Iraq and Syria since Aug. 8, a senior Air Force official told reporters at the Pentagon Sept. 29.
Sept. 27, 2014
U.S. military, partner nations conduct airstrikes against ISIL in Iraq and Syria
U.S. and partner nation military forces continued to attack ISIL terrorists in Syria Sept. 26 and 27, using fighter and remotely piloted aircraft to conduct seven airstrikes. Separately, U.S. military forces used attack aircraft to conduct three airstrikes against ISIL in Iraq.
Sept. 26, 2014
Hagel: Defeating ISIL is long-term endeavor
Defeating the Islamic State in Iraq and the Levant will require a long-term commitment by the United States and its allies on many fronts and will not be achieved by airstrikes alone, Defense Secretary Chuck Hagel told reporters Sept. 26.
Sept. 26, 2014
AF fighters, RPAs continue attacks on ISIL targets
U.S. military forces continued to attack ISIL terrorists in Iraq and Syria, using a mix of fighter, attack and remotely piloted aircraft to conduct 10 airstrikes Sept. 25 and 26. | ||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 15 | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bassel_al-Assad | en | Bassel al | [
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/icons/wikipedia.png",
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/mobile/copyright/wikipedia-wordmark-en.svg",
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/mobile/copyright/wikipedia-tagline-en.svg",
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/e/ed/Basil_al-Assad.jpg/2... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Contributors to Wikimedia projects"
] | 2005-07-16T13:25:12+00:00 | en | /static/apple-touch/wikipedia.png | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bassel_al-Assad | Eldest son of former Syrian President Hafez al-Assad
In this Arabic name, the surname is al-Assad.
Bassel al-Assad (Arabic: بَاسِلُ ٱلْأَسَدِ, romanized: Bāsil al-ʾAsad; 23 March 1962 – 21 January 1994) was a Syrian engineer, colonel, equestrian and politician who was the eldest son of Syrian President Hafez al-Assad and the older brother of (later) President Bashar al-Assad. It was widely expected that he would succeed his father as President of Syria until he died in a car crash in 1994.[1]
Early life and education
[edit]
Bassel al-Assad was born on 23 March 1962. He was trained as a civil engineer, and he held a PhD in military sciences.[3][4] He said about his childhood:
We saw father at home but he was so busy that three days could go by without us exchanging a word with him. We never had breakfast or dinner together, and I don't remember ever having lunch together as a family, or maybe we only did once or twice when state affairs were involved. As a family, we used to spend a day or two in Lattakia in the summer, but then too he used to work in the office and we didn't get to see much of him.[5]
Career
[edit]
Trained in parachuting, he was commissioned in the Special Forces and later switched to the armoured corps after training in the Soviet Military Academies.[4] He rapidly progressed through the ranks, becoming a major and then commander of a brigade in the Republican Guard.[6][7]
After his father recovered from a serious illness in 1984, Bassel began to accompany him and he emerged on the national scene in 1987, when he won several equestrian medals at a regional tournament.[8][7] The Ba'ath Party press in Syria eulogised him as the "Golden Knight" because of his prowess on horseback.[9] He also had a reputation for an interest in fast cars, and his friends described him as charismatic and commanding.[10][11] Assad was soon appointed Head of Presidential Security.[12][13] In addition, he launched the Syrian Computer Society in 1989, which was later headed by Bashar.[14]
Originally Assad's uncle, Rifaat al-Assad, was Hafez's chosen successor but Rifaat attempted to usurp power from Hafez while the latter was in a coma in 1984. This led to Rifaat's exile.[4] Following the incident, Bassel was groomed to succeed his father.[15][16] Hafez's efforts intensified to make Bassel the next President of Syria in the early 1990s;[4] after Hafez's election victory in 1991, the President was publicly referred to as "Abu Basil" (Father of Bassel).[17] Assad was also being introduced to European and Arab leaders; he was a close friend of the children of King Hussein of Jordan, especially Haya bint Hussein who also enjoyed equestrianism,[18] and had been also introduced to King Fahd of Saudi Arabia.[9]
Assad had a significant role in Lebanese affairs, and was known to Lebanese leaders of all sects.[citation needed] He organised a highly publicised anti-corruption campaign within the government and frequently appeared in full military uniform at official receptions to signal the government's commitment to the armed forces.[10]
Personal life
[edit]
Aside from his native Arabic, Bassel is said to have spoken French and Russian fluently.[9] According to leaked United States diplomatic cables, he had a relationship with a Lebanese woman, Siham Asseily[19] who later married Lebanese journalist and deputy Gebran Tueni.[citation needed]
His older sister, Bushra, could not marry Assef Shawkat until his death, as he rejected that marriage.[citation needed]
Death
[edit]
On 21 January 1994, while he was driving his luxury Mercedes at a high speed (author Paul Theroux reports Bassel was driving at 240 kilometers per hour (150 mph) through fog to Damascus International Airport for a privately chartered flight to Frankfurt, Germany, on his way to a ski vacation in the Alps in the early hours of the morning),[20][21][22] Bassel collided with a barrier and, not wearing a seatbelt, died instantly.[10][23] Hafez Makhlouf was with him and was hospitalized with injuries after the accident, and a chauffeur in the back seat was unhurt.[23][10]
Assad's body was taken to Al Assad University Hospital and then buried in Qardaha, where his father's body was also later buried.[21][24]
Legacy
[edit]
After his death, shops, schools and public offices in Syria closed, and the sale of alcohol was suspended in respect.[7] He was elevated by the state into "the martyr of the country, the martyr of the nation and the symbol for its youth".[7]
A great number of squares and streets were named after him. The new international swimming complex, various hospitals, sporting clubs and a military academy were named after him. The international airport in Latakia was named after him, Bassel Al-Assad International Airport. His statue is found in several Syrian cities, and even after his death, he is often pictured on billboards with his father and brother.[7] He also has an equestrian statue in Aleppo,[25] and formerly in Chtaura, Lebanon.[26]
On 17 November 2020, a museum dedicated to him was inaugurated at the Latakia Sports City.[27]
Bassel Assad's death led to his lesser-known brother Bashar al-Assad, who was then undertaking postgraduate training in ophthalmology in London, assuming the mantle of president-in-waiting. Bashar became President following the death of his father, on 10 June 2000.[28] [29]
References
[edit] | ||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 59 | https://truestoryaward.org/story/463 | en | Inside the Jails of the Syrian Regime | [
"https://truestoryaward.org/img/tsa-logo-line.svg",
"https://truestoryaward.org/css/icons/burger.svg",
"https://truestoryaward.org/img/social/facebook.svg",
"https://truestoryaward.org/img/social/twitter.svg",
"https://truestoryaward.org/img/social/facebook.svg",
"https://truestoryaward.org/img/social/twi... | [] | [] | [
"True Story Award",
"Global Reporter Prize",
"International Journalism Prize",
"Bern",
"Switzerland"
] | null | [] | null | The True Story Award is a global journalism prize. Its aim is to make reporters’ voices known beyond the borders of their home countries, and in doing so to increase the diversity of perspectives offered in the media. The True Story Award will be conferred by an independent foundation and honours reporters writing in 12 languages, who have distinguished themselves by the depth of their research, the quality of their journalism and its social relevance. | en | /img/site-icons/site-icon-32.png | True Story Award | https://truestoryaward.org/story/463 | Unfortunately, we cannot think of memories in the same way as a tumour that a doctor could remove, or an illness to be cured. Memories are like a cancer that spreads to all parts of the brain and cannot be stopped. The only solution is to face them with a little courage and tell your stories, maybe with a dose of morphine to ease the pain for a brief moment.
Inside the jails of the Syrian regime: The “party” where we are the gifts (1)
I still remember the day I arrived at this prison in the Syrian desert. There were around 40 of us crammed into the vehicle transporting us from Homs prison to the military prison in Palmyra. On the way, some of the men whispered about the reception that would be waiting for us when we arrived. We already knew it was going to be a party for the jailers and executioners, and we were the gifts.
Some prisoners gave advice on how to ease the pain that would overwhelm us during torture: “Don’t make eye contact with the jailer.” – “When you reach the absolute apex of pain, sing the anthem of the party, ‘The party in power in Syria,’ that will force the jailer to stop beating you until you finish the anthem.” – “Never take your hands away from your testicles when you’re inside the wheel, so you don’t lose your ability to have children.” The sound of laughter rose, the vehicle came to a sharp stop and the large iron door swung open. The jailer appeared, holding a whip made from electric cables and started beating and kicking the near-naked bodies of the prisoners. He shouted angrily: “Are you bastards laughing? It’ll be your last laugh!” He didn’t stop beating us until the officer in charge told him to stop.
Before the vehicle moved on, the guards closed all the iron shutters, even the one on the door, turning day to night. Only a few minutes passed before we started to suffocate. Some men lost consciousness in a moment felt that like a mass execution. We started yelling and begging them to open the windows. The vehicle came to a stop again. The jailer climbed inside, walking over prisoners’ heads and bodies until he could beat the ones who had passed out. It was a terrifying scene. When a whip strikes the body for the first time, the flesh swells by 2cm; from the second lash, it is ripped away.
I tried, with my own hands, to protect a weaker young man with a slender build, and I received twice as many strikes, as the jailer thought I was defying orders from his commanding officer. It didn’t stop there; all the prisoners received their share of blows, and this was just the start of the welcome reception.
Tyre torture
When we reached the prison, we lined up under a semicircular arch and they ordered us to undress completely so that we could be searched. All I could think about was: why are the jailers wearing swords decorated with white writing that I can’t read?
Tyres were placed in the middle of the yard, and the executioners began sorting the prisoners into groups, five in each group, and putting them inside tyres (the prisoner puts his legs through the wheel, up to his thighs, bends his head and shoulders inside too, then turns the wheel on the ground, so that his head is between his knees and his feet are pointing up to the sky). Two former prisoners were working with the police to steady the prisoners’ feet with a cord attached to a stick around a metre long, known as “al-Qaris”. The Corridor (the name given to prisoners who help the police) would start to wrap the cord around the prisoner’s ankles until it almost broke the bone – it certainly pierced the flesh. The first scream always escaped when the cord was wound like this. Two jailers holding swords started to beat the prisoner’s feet – they would take one foot each and coordinate their strokes. When one whip struck the right foot, the other was high above the left, and so on. The weapons were nothing more than fat bits of tyre made into the shape of a sword. Written on each one was a word or phrase uttered by prisoners during torture: “Oh, mother” – “Oh father” – “Oh God” – “Oh Mohammed”. Each time the prisoner screamed something, their tormentor would replace the whip with the whip bearing the name or phrase they had called out.
None of the advice I’d heard in the vehicle helped to ease the pain. The more the anthem was sung, the more the beatings and torture intensified.
The jailer was planning to leave me until the end of the party, so that I could see and hear what was happening in full consciousness. The Corridor pulled me towards the tyre while the policemen laughed noisily, chanting “Time for dessert”. I thought about the love letters the policeman had ripped up before my eyes when he slapped me and mocked the story they told. I will never smell the jasmine perfume on those letters, but I can still remember the details of my love’s face as if she were in front of me – even if our last meeting was four long months ago. I tried to dream about my girlfriend to take myself out of the hell I was in. I didn’t even realise when the Corridor put me in the wheel; I was trying to stay in another world. My first scream reached the heavens when my feet were fastened to “al-Qaris”.
“Be brave”
I passed out twice during those minutes. I don’t know how I woke up, but the pain was impossible to describe. There’s absolutely nothing like it, or at least that’s what I thought. Each time the whip came down on my feet, I felt like my head was going to explode, I tried to escape the pain by taking refuge in my imagination. I think I spent a few seconds like that. The seconds I was in a coma. Their party came to an end when my feet were cracked open and a pool of blood had formed underneath me. The Corridor took me over to the tap. I was barely conscious. More accurately, I was somewhere between life and death. They poured cold water over me. It was the worst pain, like a high-voltage electric current running through my body. I swear I could hear my heart beating in my head. I woke up in a large cell with pain in my feet, which were covered with a damp cloth. A tough young man was sitting near my head, smiling. Sarcastically, he mocked me: “Stand up, be brave, only real men go to prison.” Then he looked up at the hole in the cell’s ceiling and laughed, saying: “Please, let us out.”
Inside the jails of the Syrian regime. Humiliation and beatings designed to crush the will (2)
Despite the horror of the photos shared of 11,000 prisoners killed under torture in the prisons of the Assad regime (photos César https://www.google.com/), with all my own scars, injuries, and signs of torture, I wasn’t as affected as everyone else. For me, and many others like me, dying under torture means you haven’t lived through the worst. Only those who have experienced moments of torture in damp, rotting basements will understand what I mean.
The pubic shave ordeal
When a whip strikes the naked body, the pain it inflicts is often easier to bear than an act you consider shameful. I remember the first time I reached the sixth courtyard. There is a place there where prisoners have their pubic area shaved. We were used to undressing before we arrived at the prison in the Palmyra desert, but we were not in the habit of volunteering to let the jailer have his fun by torturing us with obscenities whenever a prisoner had a small penis, or striking the intimate area with an electrical cord when he had a large penis.
We walked into the courtyard completely naked, forming a queue to be shaved. The weather was very cold, it was still morning when the jailer started to whip our bodies because we’d used our hands to cover our intimate areas. His words and curses were harsher than the pain of a whip tearing through tender flesh. Despite the pain, many of us continued to cover our most sensitive parts, refusing to submit to the jailers’ orders. The dilemma lasted moments: cover our genitals – a natural instinct, in keeping with our customs and traditions – or escape the whip on our buttocks, thighs and back. You find that customs, traditions and even religion fade away as you watch a line of men have their pubic area shaved.
After a while, no one bothered to cover their intimate area, and asking the barber to shave the area as much as possible became the norm. Prisoners who were rich (meaning that they had packets of foreign cigarettes) even paid bribes for it. That’s exactly what I often did. But this time I didn’t have any cigarettes, I’d stopped smoking. I was weak and I needed help to walk, my feet were still swollen and cut. But my injuries didn’t stop me from receiving plenty of blows to the back, buttocks and testicles. The biggest challenge was not to cry out, because that would only make the jailer hit your harder.
When my turn came to be shaved, the barber hadn’t changed the blade. I asked him to change it, and he looked at me in surprise and bit his bottom lip as a sign for me to shut up. I didn’t catch his hint, and I looked at one of the guards and spoke to him about it. He burst out laughing and called over the other guards to tell them the story. This was the worst moment of my life. The jailer told the barber to finish the shave in ten seconds, or he would be beaten and locked in the isolation cell. You can imagine how it felt when the barber set to work without even using water on the hairs, and with a blade that had been used to shave dozens of prisoners before me. What I remember from that moment are the screams of the other prisoners when they saw what was happening to me, and my own screams, which I think could be heard all the way to the monuments in Palmyra, several kilometres away from the prison. The injuries that barber left on my intimate parts caused me pain for months afterwards.
Lice and beatings
However, I was luckier than some prisoners, who became infected with lice. And I witnessed what happened to one prisoner who suffered from this. At lunchtime, he was brought out into the third courtyard, the largest in the prison. There, he was laid out on his stomach, completely naked, and forced to raise his bottom so that two other detainees could search for lice between his buttocks. While this was happening, the jailer forced the prisoners in the courtyard to hit the man, and the guards whipped his buttocks for their entertainment.
One friend who went through this ordeal told me that all the blows and slaps are nothing compared to the psychological damage inflicted by this treatment. He told me that he had lost his self-confidence and had nightmares about his virility. I can understand why, and I know that all these punishments were nothing more than a systematic policy to deprive the prisoners of their will. To reduce them to numbers in the records of the dark history of life under the Assad family regime.
Inside the jails of the Syrian regime: the incurable cancer of memories (3)
Unfortunately, we cannot think of memories in the same way as a tumour that a doctor could remove, or an illness to be cured. Memories are like a cancer that spreads to all parts of the brain and cannot be stopped. The only solution is to face them with a little courage and tell your stories, maybe with a dose of morphine to ease the pain for a brief moment.
Killing for pleasure
One cold morning, we were sitting in the sixth courtyard of the prison in Palmyra (read previous reports), close to the walls of a cell. We were stretched out in the sunlight, like swallows on a wire. That was the only hour we were allowed to rest outside the cell. The prisoners from one of the “al-Wazzawiz” cells walked past us (al-Wazzawiz is the name given to handsome young prisoners. These boys were used as servants to fulfil the needs of policemen and torturers). They were naked and walking towards the baths in long line. Among these slender bodies, I saw “Mohammad”, the skinny young man I’d tried to protect in the prison transport the day we arrived in this damp and rotting jail. Mohammad looked at me with sunken eyes and a broad smile played across his chapped lips. His face was very thin. His body looked like a walking skeleton. Mohammad tried to run in short, wobbly strides, to catch up with the line, but he was so weak that he could barely walk. He was stumbling around like a drunk. Two of his fellow prisoners tried to help him, but the guard’s whip drove them away and Mohammad was left to face the guard and his insults. The whip ate away what was left of his back and buttocks. Mohammad’s screams silenced after the jailer kicked him in the stomach and the testicles. Blood covered his body stretched out on the ground. The jailer didn’t even react. He simply shouted “Corridor,” and two large prisoners came and took Mohammad away, towards the baths. It was only a minute or two before the Corridor were back, dragging Mohammad through the prison courtyard and into the police courtyard, where the only medical point in the prison was located. That was when Mohammad disappeared forever.
I couldn’t believe, at the time, that Mohammad had been killed, though everyone around me was whispering prayers for the dead. What seemed even less believable was that the jailer who had beaten Mohammad came back into the third courtyard, where we were sitting, with an apple in his hand. He ate it greedily, chuckling loudly to himself. How can someone kill an innocent person and remain indifferent? How can a jailer be human?
The jailer told the prisoners to come and get the apple. And when they came, he slapped and kicked them. He tried to torture us just by looking at apples. Fruit is forbidden for prisoners – many fruits and vegetables and even traditional Syrian dishes were forbidden in prison.
When breakfast is a prisoner’s dream
My friend Yassine told me that he could no longer remember what apples – or any other fruits – tasted like, and that it didn’t bother him at all, all he cared about was “Fatteh Halawa” (breakfast). He told me that he’d spent five years in this cold prison. Five years never feeling full. And every night, as he settled himself under a military wool blanket, fraying like his heart, his chapped lips would curl into a smile. He was dreaming with his eyes wide open. Him in his garden at home, sitting on his old wooden chair, a stick in his raised hand. A teapot is placed on a wooden stove. His mother’s hands cut bread into pieces on a low wooden table. The silhouetted woman holding a dish of sweets is his wife. But he’s forgotten the details of her face; they only lived together for 19 days after they were married. Before he was brought to this empty place, where loud cries reverberate around the desert.
He told me that every night he dreamed about “Fatteh Halawa”. And thanks to the image of his mother’s face, he imagined the food being delicious. I can still remember the way his hands would move after he closed his eyes and savoured the taste, as if he was eating right there. How can breakfast be someone’s dream?
“Fatteh Halawa” is the meal prepared daily at the military prison in Palmyra. Half a glass of something that looks like cold tea, a teaspoon of Syrian sweets. It could be described as animal feed, but with a sweet flavour. Some bread and three bitter olives. The bread is cut into small pieces, a spoonful of sweetener is added, then the tea is poured over the top. These components are mixed together until they take their final form, which bears a resemblance to “old man’s vomit”. The olives are left over in the name of “dessert”. Five or six people prepare this meal and then eat it. When your turn comes, you take a mouthful. Many prisoners would prefer 20 lashes of the whip on their feet and body to an extra mouthful of this meal. You could swap one mouthful for a torture session that might last ten minutes.
Ten minutes
Ten minutes is how long I spent listening to my friend’s story. Ten minutes was long enough to forget about Mohammad, killed before my eyes. And I didn’t move. Ten minutes in the third courtyard of that prison set the course for the rest of my life. Ten minutes was all it took for my mind to become infected with the incurable cancer of memories.
Inside the jails of the Syrian regime. Torture to change human nature (4)
The cell I was imprisoned in comprised three interior rooms, with high walls and a circular window in the ceiling of each room granting clear views of each prisoner’s movements to the night guards. The surface area of a cell was around 16m2, the total surface area around 50m2. There were 190 of us sharing cell number 12, located in the second courtyard. The first room was the busiest, because it was the only one with a toilet. There was always a queue of prisoners waiting their turn.
Hafez al-Assad, ‘a role model’
At exactly 8pm, from the prison rooftops, the guards would give the order for us to get ready for sleep. We had ten minutes and not one more. In ten minutes, all the prisoners must be in a sleeping position and ready to listen to the story of the day. One of the prisoners would tell us a story (a sort of psychological boost for the inmates, at least according to the police). It was usually about the heroism of President Hafez al-Assad, one of his sons or his entourage. The story of Hafez al-Assad’s diplomatic victory over the American Secretary of State was the police’s particular favourite. We were forced to listen to this one at least three times a week, it was all about Assad’s diplomatic skills, his courage and his strength of character. This was how we learned that President Assad was capable of going nine hours without urinating. Something Kissinger could not do. There you have it: Syria’s greatest diplomatic victory over American imperialism and global Zionism. It astonished the leaders of the West and East alike, according to the press and leaders of the Syrian regime at the time. This story was meant to inspire us. We, the prisoners, had to follow the example set by our President. What the prison director demanded of us, therefore, consisted of going the next 12 hours without urinating. If we failed, we would be betraying the values and principles of our ‘leader’ Hafez al-Assad.
The prison officials knew what they were doing, and that it was unrealistic. You only need to imagine 190 people sleeping in 50m2 to understand the madness of this order. So they suggested that the actions of the President should be our source of inspiration. Ignoring them was equivalent to treason punishable by law.
In position, sardine!
The magic solution to the sleeping problem, despite the overcrowding in prisons, was for prisoners to sleep packed together like sardines in a tin. There was one catch: each prisoner had to sleep on one side of his body for the whole night. It was impossible to roll over, stand up, or even move.
The cell manager, a former inmate, started by placing a prisoner on his right side in one corner of the room, with his head against the wall and his face turned towards the inside of the room. Then the second prisoner was placed on his right side, but with his head at the feet of the first prisoner and his feet in the man’s face. The third prisoner would be in the same position as the first, the fourth in the same position as the second, and so on and so forth, until the row reached the opposite wall. The second row was the same as the first, but in reverse order. And this went on until the last inmate in the cell was lying down (see illustration).
The prisoners sleeping closest to the wall were some of the richest, they paid a bribe to the jailers for this privilege. As for the cell manager, he had his own spot, which allowed him to sleep in the small space in front of the toilets.
One toilet, 190 prisoners
We encountered the biggest problem of the day first thing in the morning: getting 190 people to relieve themselves in a single toilet. And quickly, since we had to be out of the cell by 9am on the dot for breakfast and our daily walk. We didn’t have enough time to use the toilet alone, so you had to urinate at the same time as two or three other people.
Many prisoners, especially the new ones, couldn’t wait their turn and relieved themselves in their clothes. Then they had to wait until midday to shower in the washroom or, to be more precise, to pour cold water over their body for a duration of no more than one minute. These unsanitary conditions explain the spread of lice and skin diseases such as scabies and fungi that grew between the legs and sometimes all over people’s bodies. In the afternoon, we hurried into the washroom to wash or defecate, which left a stifling, foul stench in the cell. Many prisoners contracted tuberculosis, others suffered from chronic bronchitis or serious lung diseases. The number of deaths in prisons under the regime of Hafez al-Assad was considerable. And those who made it out alive were marked forever.
Inside the jails of the Syrian regime: the slow death chamber (5)
One cold and rainy day in the military prison in Palmyra, while I was in the courtyard waiting for my ration of food, the guards ordered us to look down so we wouldn’t see the most dangerous prisoners passing by on the way to the shower. They were in a cell with enhanced security, and no one was allowed to see them or mix with them without personal authorisation from the prison director. But I did look at the faces of these prisoners. I was looking for a familiar face – someone I used to know was among them. He was a man from my village, who I’d met in the military prison in Homs when I was on my way to Palmyra prison. This prisoner was ten years older than me and had spent the last ten years in different Syrian prisons.
First meeting with Abu Sharif
I first met Abu Sharif by chance, in the military prison in Homs (al-Baloona). When he realised I was his friend’s younger brother, he spent an hour with me in a filthy cell. He made sure I could sleep on my back that night – a miracle for new detainees like me. At the time, I didn’t understand why Abu Sharif had this kind of authority inside the prison, when he was an inmate himself. He told me that he would see me again in Palmyra prison when he got back from his military tribunal in Damas, and that he would explain everything. I later learned, from another prisoner, that Abu Sharif was considered one of the most dangerous prisoners because he had committed a number of serious offences during his first stay in Palmyra prison. He had taken a guard hostage, with the help of other inmates, in a bid to change the unjust prison system of the time. Although Abu Sharif did receive several gunshot wounds from a military weapon during this incident, he lived, while everyone else who had participated in the jailer’s kidnap was killed. The reason his life was spared remains a mystery.
Renewed encounter in Palmyra
In Palmyra, we saw each other across the third courtyard. Abu Sharif walked towards me, but one of the guards stopped him from coming over, while the other guard took me into the police courtyard where I would be punished for violating the prison rule that prohibits approaching or speaking to the dangerous prisoners. As the jailer was dragging me away, I yelled “Twelve” at the top of my voice, to answer Abu Sharif’s question about my cell number.
Just two days later, Abu Sharif visited me in my cell. My feet were cut and swollen, and I had a huge black eye thanks to the beating I’d taken from the guards. That day, Abu Sharif told me the whole story. He told me about kidnapping the jailer, and about his three bullet wounds. And why he’d been given treatment on the orders of the Ministry of Defence, who wanted information about other operations planned by the prisoners. He explained how the prison authorities had taken the illegal decision to kill him slowly in the “death cell” (al-Monfareda), which is the most horrific story I ever heard in prison.
The invention of a Nazi officer
Al-Monfareda is a one metre cubed cell, with two iron shutters. The first, half way up the door, 25cm2, opens once a day for 20 minutes, for air. The other opening, at the bottom or the door, measures 15cm2. This opens twice a day for food to be passed through. In one corner of the floor in al-Monfareda, there is a small opening (with no additional features) that serves as a toilet. The walls and the door are padded to prevent the inmate from committing suicide by hitting their head. There are also no electricity wires or light bulbs. And no window. The length of stay in this cell is generally no longer than one month, enough time for the detainee to lose their mind or contract a fatal disease like cancer, tuberculosis, plague, malaria, and others.
It is said that this method of slow death was invented by the Nazi Alois Brunner, the right-hand man of Adolf Eichmann, a notorious Nazi officer and one of the key organisers of the Holocaust. Brunner was granted asylum in Syria in 1961. After the coup d’état in September of that year, which dissolved the United Arab Republic (Syria and Egypt), he stayed there until his death in 2010.
Surviving thanks to a rat
“The first time that Marmar paid me a visit was the day after I’d gone into the death chamber,” Abu Sharif told me. “I was in a dangerous psychological state, I was looking for a quick way to commit suicide, after the failure of my first attempt when I bashed my head against the wall. Marmar, the rat, came in through the hole for the toilet, looking for something to eat. There were two bread rolls on the floor of the cell. That was like treasure to my friend Marmar. He broke off a piece of bread and ran back to wherever he came from, only to reappear a few hours later to get the rest of the bread. This time he stayed for a few minutes to wander around my feet. That happened a few times, and each time Marmar stayed a little longer, until I got used to it and I enjoyed his company. I started to talk to him and stroke him like a pet. I gave him my food, because I’d decided to die by going on hunger strike. I thought the rat could help me by taking away the food, because I had to prove to the guard that I was eating, otherwise they’d force feed me. After a few days, the disease began to seep into my body. The cough was the worst thing, at that point. I noticed that Marmar wasn’t taking as much bread anymore, which put my plan in danger if there was bread left on the floor. I tried to throw it down the toilet hole, but the guard found out my trick and forced me to eat. I started hiding bread in my trousers to give to my friend Marmar, who made al-Monfareda his permanent home. He put on weight, unlike me. I didn’t know why he was gaining weight, and it was a total surprise when Marmar gave birth in the corner of the cell. It never crossed my mind that the animal was female. I had conflicting feelings, but the overwhelming one was love.
I really liked the little one and called it Kifah, because that’s a name that can be male or female. Marmar and Kifah were my little family in that dungeon. They gave me hope of surviving and confidence in myself, to believe that I can still give love, the love I need to give to my family and the love I want to find when I get out of prison.
After six months of confinement, I refused to leave the cell. Every time they tried to make me leave, I hit out at the guards like I’d turned into a human monster that couldn’t be tamed. The prison director didn’t understand my behaviour, and he decided to keep me in al-Monfareda indefinitely.”
Bribes to get out… and come back every day
Abu Sharif did leave the death chamber, after his family paid a kilo of gold and a huge sum in bribes to visit him for five minutes. This five-minute visit with his mother changed his life over the following years. An agreement was reached with the prison director that Abu Sharif would leave al-Monfareda, with the right to go in there every day to see Marmar and Kifah, in exchange for a monthly sum of cash the family paid to the director… | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 52 | https://www.csmonitor.com/World/Europe/2014/0603/Assad-s-father-in-law-becomes-lightning-rod-for-Syrians-in-London | en | Assad's father-in-law becomes lightning rod for Syrians in London | [
"https://www.csmonitor.com/extension/csm_base/design/csm_design/images/csm-logo-200.svg",
"https://www.csmonitor.com/extension/csm_base/design/standard/images/apple-touch-icon.png",
"https://www.csmonitor.com/extension/csm_base/design/csm_design/images/csm-logo-100.svg",
"https://www.csmonitor.com/extension/c... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Mian Ridge",
"The Christian Science Monitor"
] | 2014-06-03T15:14:27-04:00 | The father-in-law of President Bashar al-Assad, who is staging an election today in Syria, lives on a modest house in London. Some Syrian exiles gripe over his support for the regime. | en | /extension/csm_base/design/standard/images/favicon.ico | The Christian Science Monitor | https://www.csmonitor.com/World/Europe/2014/0603/Assad-s-father-in-law-becomes-lightning-rod-for-Syrians-in-London | It is a modest terraced house on a suburban street, with a pebble dash facade and pink roses on its tiny front lawn. But to Syrians opposed to the regime of Bashar al-Assad, who is staging a controversial presidential election in Syria today, the house is a lightning rod.
Its owner is Fawaz Akhras, the father of Mr. Assad's British-born wife and a longtime resident of Britain. His loyalty to Assad's regime has brought on attacks on his suburban house, its walls paint-bombed and windows smashed.
“See the satellite dishes there, so he can follow the news in Syria?” says Mohammed, a Syrian neighbor, gesturing at the house. “But we never see Akhras. I don't want to see him." He declined to give his full name; like other Syrians critical of the regime, he worries about repercussions for his relatives at home.
However, opinions about Mr. Akhras, a cardiologist who works at a private hospital, are far from uniform among Syrians in Acton, a neighborhood in West London with a large Middle Eastern population.
“There are many Syrians here who back the regime”, says Malik al-Abdeh, a Syrian journalist who lives across the road from Akhras and knew Syria's first lady, Asma, when she was growing up. She appeared today on Syrian TV casting a ballot alongside her husband.
At the outset of Syria's conflict, when peaceful protesters called for political reform, there was speculation that she might be a moderating influence on Assad, who succeeded his father in 2000. Similar claims were made for Akhras, the father-in-law, who has lived in Britain for four decades. But leaked emails later showed that both were supportive of the regime despite its brutal tactics in putting down its opponents.
Exiles divided by politics
British Syrians' political and ideological allegiances track those of people back home, says Abdeh, a director at the Movement for Justice and Development, a pro-democracy group. Most Sunnis back the opposition; many non-Sunnis support the regime. But more have swung behind Assad because they fear the Islamist extremists in the opposition, and sense that the regime is winning.
He himself refuses to criticize Akhras. “He's a doctor. He has been here for many years. He isn't ostentatious – in the league table of wickedness he isn't very high up,” he says.
He adds, however, that when it was revealed in 2012 that Akhras had been in friendly contact with the Syrian regime, many local Syrians became “very angry."
Born in Homs, Akhras moved to Britain in 1973 – a time when a large number of Syrians were leaving to escape the dictatorship of Hafez al-Assad. These exiled Syrians hoped that under his son Bashar, a British-trained eye doctor, the situation would improve.
Akhras met his wife, Sahar Otri, then an official at the Syrian embassy, and trained in Britain as a doctor. His daughter, Asma, was born in 1975 and educated in London, where she was known as Emma. After university, she worked in banking before marrying Bashar in 2000.
Early on in the conflict, as the crackdown worsened, observers wondered what Akhras, who is said to be mild-mannered and likeable, made of his son-in-law's brutality, including the Syrian military's shelling and bombing of Homs, his home city.
Moral support for regime
In 2012, the Guardian newspaper obtained several thousand emails between Akhras and the regime, which suggested that as the crackdown worsened and Western criticism mounted, he had offered advice and moral support to the embattled Syrian president.
“Until that moment it was unclear where Fawaz and Asma stood,” says Chris Doyle, director of the Council for Arab-British Understanding, a charity. “I was routinely asked, 'has Asma left Syria?'"
The Guardian reported that Akhras counseled Assad via email on how to shape Syria's response to media reports of brutality by its security forces, including a Channel 4 film that appeared to show torture of children. The emails dated between June 2011 and February 2012.
"The emails confirmed once and for all that they had both nailed their colors to the mast and believed in the crackdown. They showed that they were comfortable with what was going on," says Mr. Doyle.
He speculates that Akhras's interests – in terms of his daughter and family – are now firmly tied to the regime since if it falls he would be unable to return to Syria.
Family and future
The sense that one's future and family in Syria is tied to one's political allegiance is shared by all British Syrians. Unsurprisingly, many declined to talk politics ahead of today's election.
Akhras is keeping a low profile in his adopted hometown. He did not return calls requesting an interview, although the receptionist at his clinic said he was in London and working. Neighbors say he is only seen on the street as he hops into his car on his way to work.
An organization he helped set up, the British Syrian Society, has largely wound down, say observers. Its website has carried no news since 2010, except a simple message.
“The British Syrian Society is saddened and appalled at the violence and loss of life in Syria," it reads. “Our thoughts and wishes go out to all our friends in Syria and we dearly hope for an end to the troubles that have overcome Syria since March 2011." | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 6 | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_rights_in_Syria | en | Human rights in Syria | [
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/icons/wikipedia.png",
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/mobile/copyright/wikipedia-wordmark-en.svg",
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/mobile/copyright/wikipedia-tagline-en.svg",
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/82/Coat_of_arms_of_Syri... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Contributors to Wikimedia projects"
] | 2006-03-08T17:17:00+00:00 | en | /static/apple-touch/wikipedia.png | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_rights_in_Syria | The situation for human rights in Syria is considered one of the worst in the world and has been globally condemned by international organizations like the United Nations, Human rights Watch, Amnesty International,[1][2][3] and the European Union.[4] Civil liberties, political rights, freedom of speech and assembly are virtually non-existent under the Ba'athist government of Bashar al-Assad; which is regarded as "one of the world's most repressive regimes".[5][6] The 50th edition of Freedom in the World, the annual report published by Freedom House since 1973, designates Syria as "Worst of the Worst" among the "Not Free" countries. The report lists Syria as one of the two countries to get the lowest possible score (1/100).[7][8]
Since the 1963 coup d'etat by its Military Committee that propelled the neo-Ba'athists to power, the Syrian Ba'ath party has operated a totalitarian state in Syria. Following a period of intra-party power-struggles that culminated in the 1970 coup, General Hafez al-Assad became the Syrian President; establishing a hereditary dictatorship of the Assad family. During the six decades of its rule, the security apparatus has banned all social, political and economic groups independent of the Ba'ath party or the regime; ensuring that the state has total monopoly over all forms of organizations.[9] A state of emergency was in effect from 1963 until April 2011, giving security forces sweeping powers of arbitrary arrests and detentions of civilians; including prisoners of conscience.[3] From 1973 to 2012, Syria was a single-party state. While the 2012 Syrian constitution nominally affirms the formation of political parties; registration process is difficult and thoroughly scrutinized by the regime. Political activities independent of the Ba'ath are discouraged in regime-controlled territories and strictly monitored by the Mukhabarat.[10]
There is no independent judiciary, as it is mandatory for all judges and prosecutors to be approved members of the Ba'ath party. The armed forces has the power to arbitrarily arrest civilians and put them to trial.[11] The authorities have been accused of harassing and imprisoning human rights activists and other critics of the government.[12] Freedom of expression, association and assembly are strictly controlled, and ethnic minorities face discrimination.[3][12] Throughout the decades-long reign of Assad dynasty between 1970 and 2011; over 70,000 Syrians were subjected to forced disappearances, more than 40,000 were executed through extrajudicial killings and hundreds of thousands of civilians became displaced through deportations.[13]
After an initial period of economic liberalization that failed to improve human rights in the early 2000s,[14] Bashar al-Assad launched a string of crackdowns that imprisoned numerous intellectuals and cultural activists; thereby ending the Damascus Spring.[15] At the onset of the Arab Spring in 2011, the country's human rights situation remained among the worst in the world; characterized by arbitrary arrests, mass surveillance by the dreaded secret police and systematic repression of ethnic minorities, such as the Kurds.[16] The government is guilty of crimes against humanity based on witness accounts of deaths in custody[17] including extrajudicial executions,[a] torture,[b] rape,[c] arbitrary detentions, ethnic cleansing, genocides, massacres, state terrorism and forced disappearances[30] during the crackdown against the 2011 Syrian Revolution and the ensuing Civil War.[31] The government has also conducted numerous chemical attacks against its own civilians.[d]
History of human rights
[edit]
French rule (1920–1946)
[edit]
From the early 1920s until 1946, Syria and Lebanon were under the control of a French Mandate, officially ratified by the League of Nations on 29 September 1923.[36] Human rights concerns during this period included the colonialist treatment of the Druze within their autonomous state in the southern portion of the mandate, as prisoners and peasants there were often used for forced labor.[37]
During the Great Revolt, French military forces sieged much of Damascus and the countryside,[38] killing at least 7,000 rebels and displacing over 100,000 civilians. Authorities would publicly display mutilated corpses in central squares within Damascus and villages throughout Syria as a means of intimidating opponents of the government.[39] In 1926, the Damascus military court executed 355 Syrians without any legal representation.[40] Hundreds of Syrians were sentenced to death in absentia, prison terms of various lengths, and life imprisonment with hard labour.
Additionally, it was during this period that Syrian Women's Rights groups began to assert themselves, led by individuals like Naziq al-Abid.[41][42]
Post–1948
[edit]
Jews in Syria have been discriminated against, especially since the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948. In 1948, Jews were banned from leaving the country and from selling their property. In 1953, all Jewish bank accounts were frozen and Jewish property confiscated. In 1954, Jews were temporarily permitted to emigrate, but they had to leave all their property to the government.
Ba'athist Era: 1963-Present
[edit]
The coup d'etat in 1963 staged by the Military Committee of the Syrian Ba'ath party overthrew the Second Syrian Republic headed by President Nazim al-Qudsi, ushering in decades-long Baathist rule. The new regime implemented social engineering policies such as large-scale confiscation of properties, state directed re-distribution of lands and wealth, massive censorship, elimination of independent publishing centres, nationalization of banks, education system and industries. A state of emergency was declared which abolished all other political parties and bestowed sweeping powers upon the military; effectively ruling the country as police state. Purges were carried out throughout the civil society, bureaucracy; and the army was packed with party loyalists. Syrian Ba'athists were highly influenced by Akram Hawrani's Arab Socialist party which adhered to Marxism.[43]
In March 1964, Jews were banned from traveling more than 5 kilometres (3 mi) from their hometowns.[44] Jews were not allowed to work for the government or banks, could not acquire drivers' licenses, and were banned from purchasing property. Although Jews were prohibited from leaving the country, they were sometimes allowed to travel abroad for commercial or medical reasons. Any Jew granted clearance to leave the country had to leave behind a bond of $300–$1,000 and family members to be used as hostages to ensure they returned. An airport road was paved over the Jewish cemetery in Damascus, and Jewish schools were closed and handed over to Muslims. The Jewish Quarter of Damascus was under constant surveillance by the secret police, who were present at synagogue services, weddings, bar mitzvahs, and other Jewish gatherings. The secret police closely monitored contact between Syrian Jews and foreigners and kept a file on every member of the Jewish community. Jews also had their phones tapped and their mail read by the secret police.[45][46] After Israel's victory in the 1967 Six-Day War, restrictions were further tightened, and 57 Jews in Qamishli may have been killed in a pogrom. The communities of Damascus, Aleppo, and Qamishli were under house arrest for eight months following the war. Many Jewish workers were laid off following the Six-Day War.
After purging rival Baathist factions through a coup in 1970, General Hafez al-Assad established total dominance over the Ba'ath party and established a dictatorship centred around his personality cult. Structure of Assad's police state revolved around the Ba'ath party organization, Syrian military establishment packed with Ba'athist elites and Assad family's Alawite loyalists. Hafez ruled Syria for 3 decades with an iron first; deploying repressive measures ranging from censorship to violent methods of state terror such as mass murders, deportations and practices such as torture, which were unleashed collectively upon the civilian population.[47]
In 1982, Hafez al-Assad responded to an insurrection led by the Muslim Brotherhood in the city of Hama by sending a paramilitary force that indiscriminately killed between 10,000 and 55,000 civilians including children, women, and the elderly during the Hama massacre.[48][49] State-violence perpetrated by Assad's reign have targeted women extensively, subjecting them to discrimination and gender-based violence.[3] Between 1980 and 2000, more than 17,000 Syrian civilians were subjected to forced disappearance from the Syrian regime. During Baathist occupation of Lebanon, numerous Lebanese, Palestinian and other Arab civilians went missing. More than 35 torture techniques were reported to be employed in Syrian prisons and military detention centres during this time.[50] A 1983 report published by Amnesty International revealed that Assad regime routinely committed mass-executions of alleged dissidents and engaged in the extensive torture of prisoners of conscience. Various torture methods in Syrian prisons include electrocutions, ablazing, sexual violence, castration, etc.[51]
In 2000, Bashar al-Assad inherited the totalitarian system of Ba'athist Syria following the death of his father. His regime was characterized by even more systemic violence and repression than that of Hafez al-Assad. This has been widely attributed to Bashar's inexperience in security and political affairs, in addition to personal insecurities regarding the survival of his family regime.[52] 2006 Freedom House report listed Syria amongst the worst countries to restrict civil liberties and political freedoms; giving it the lowest possible scores in both measures.[53] In 2023, Freedom House rated people's access to political rights in Syria as the lowest on its Freedom in the World annual report on 210 countries. Syria ranked "-3" in political rights – lower than its scale of 1 to 7, alongside South Sudan and Western Sahara – and Syria was given a rating of "Not Free."[54][55] Since 2022, Syria has the lowest ranked country in report.[56]
According to the 2008 report on human rights by the U.S. State Department, the Syrian government's "respect for human rights worsened". Members of the security forces arrested and detained individuals without providing just cause, often held prisoners in "lengthy pretrial and incommunicado detention", and "tortured and physically abused prisoners and detainees". The government imposed significant restrictions on freedom of speech, press, assembly, and association, amid an atmosphere of government corruption.[57] According to Arab Press Network, "despite a generally repressive political climate", there were "signs of positive change," during the 2007 elections.[58] According to a 2008 report by Reporters without Borders, "Journalists have to tightly censor themselves for fear of being thrown into Adra Prison."[59]
In 2009 Syria was included in Freedom House's "Worst of the Worst" section and given a rating of 7 for Political Rights: and 6 for Civil Liberties.[60] According to Human Rights Watch, as of 2009 Syria's poor human rights situation had "deteriorated further". Authorities arrested political and human rights activists, censored websites, detained bloggers, and imposed travel bans. Syria's multiple security agencies continue to detain people without arrest warrants. No political parties were licensed and emergency rule, imposed in 1963, remained in effect.[2] Various torture techniques deployed in Syrian detention centres and prisons include routine beatings, rapes, sexual violence, "Bisat al-rih" (flying carpet), etc.[61]
The scale of the brutal violence and state terrorism unleashed by the Assad regime and his foreign backers across the country after the eruption of the 2011 Syrian revolution was unprecedented, far outstripping the actions of other Arab autocrats who repressed the Arab Spring. It even exceeded the brutal violence unleashed by Hafez al-Assad during the Hama Massacre. By pursuing scorched-earth policies to crush the armed resistance, Bashar had destroyed majority of Syria's civilian, cultural and economic infrastructure. Unlike his father, Bashar killed far more Syrian civilians and has also lost significant amount of his political independence to foreign actors like Russia and Iran. As of 2023, more than a third of Syrian territories remain outside the control of the Ba'athist regime.[62]
In April 2017, the U.S. Navy carried out a missile attack against a Syrian air base[63] which had been used to conduct a chemical weapons attack on Syrian civilians.[64] This attack is also known as the 2017 Shayrat missile strike. In 2018, coalition forces including United States, France, and the United Kingdom also carried out a series of military strikes in Syria.
Judicial process
[edit]
Syria has a long history of arbitrary arrest, unfair trials and prolonged detention of suspects. Thousands of political prisoners remain in detention, with many belonging to the banned Muslim Brotherhood and the Communist Party.[12] Since June 2000, more than 700 long-term political prisoners have been freed by President al-Assad, though an estimated 4,000 are reportedly still imprisoned.[12] Information regarding those detained in relation to political or security-related charges is not divulged by the authorities.[12] The government has not acknowledged responsibility for around 17,000 Lebanese citizens and Palestinians who "disappeared" in Lebanon in the 1980s and early 1990s and are thought to be imprisoned in Syria.[12] In 2009, hundreds of people were arrested and imprisoned for political reasons. Military police were reported to have killed at least 17 detainees.[3] Human rights activists are continually targeted and imprisoned by the government.[3][12][65]
On 18 September 2020, Netherlands demanded that the Syrian President Bashar al-Assad be held accountable for the war crimes and crimes against humanity committed during the civilian war. The Dutch officials sent a notice to the Syrian regime on the legal actions to be taken and submitted a case at the International Court of Justice on the Syrian government's failure to negotiate under the UN framework.[66]
Prisoners of conscience
[edit]
Main article: Political prisoners in Syria
Among the scores of prisoners of conscience arrested in 2009, and hundreds of political prisoners already in prison, some of the more prominent prisoners were:
Kamal al-Labwani, a prisoner of conscience who had three years added to his 12-year sentence for allegedly "broadcasting false or exaggerated news which could affect the morale of the country", on account of remarks he was alleged to have made in his prison cell.[3]
Nabil Khlioui, an alleged Islamist from Deir al-Zour, who with at least 10 other Islamists, most are presumed to be from Deir al-Zour, remained in incommunicado detention without charge or trial at the end of 2009.[3]
Mashaal Tammo, the killed spokesperson for the unauthorized Kurdish Future Current group, who was 'held incommunicado for 12 days and charged with "aiming to provoke civil war or sectarian fighting", "conspiracy" and three other charges commonly brought against Kurdish activists, charges that could lead to the death penalty.[citation needed]
Twelve leaders of a prominent gathering of opposition groups, the Damascus Declaration, continue to serve 30-month prison terms. Among those detained is Riad Seif, 62, a former member of parliament who is in poor health.[2]
Habib Saleh was sentenced to three years in jail for "spreading false information" and "weakening national sentiment" in the form of writing articles criticizing the government and defending opposition figure Riad al-Turk.[2]
One released prisoner was Aref Dalila. He had served seven of the ten years in his prison sentence, much of it in solitary confinement and in increasingly poor health, for his involvement in the so-called "Damascus Spring" before being released by a presidential pardon.[3]
In June 2010, Mohannad al-Hassani, head of the Syrian Organisation for Human Rights (Swasiya) and winner of the 2010 Martin Ennals Award for Human Rights Defenders, was convicted of "weakening national morale" and "conveying within Syria false news that could debilitate the morale of the nation." He was sentenced to three years in prison.[68]
Sednaya prison alone houses more than 600 political prisoners. The authorities have kept many for years behind bars, often well past their legal sentence. The estimated 17,000 prisoners who have disappeared over the years suggests that Syria may have hidden mass graves.[48]
In a 2006 report, Human Rights Watch reported on the continued detention of "thousands" of political prisoners in Syria, "many of them members of the banned Muslim Brotherhood and the Communist Party." According to the Syrian Human Rights Committee that there were 4,000 political prisoners held in Syrian jails in 2006.[69]
Torture
[edit]
August 2016, Amnesty International released a report tackling the issue of torture and ill-treatment in Syrian government prisons which amount to crimes against humanity. Since the crisis began in March 2011, the international organization estimated that 17,723 people have died in custody in Syria – an average rate of more than 300 deaths each month. According to the report, governmental forces have used torture to scare the opponents. But today, they use it as a part of systematic attack against opposition members. According to testimonies of some survivors, detainees were subjected to numerous kind of torture aiming at dehumanizing them, and in many cases killing them. Amnesty international said that those, who are responsible for these atrocities, must be brought to justice.[72]
In Sednaya Prison alone, up to 13,000 detainees were executed extrajudicially in secret between 2011 and 2015, mostly through mass-hangings. This was part of Assad's push to eliminate all dissent to his rule.[73][74] On 6 July 2020, families of detainees in Syrian government prisons found the pictures of their dead relatives in the media graphics of a forensic police photographer-turned-whistleblower, codenamed, Caesar. The photos are among tens of thousands of images of torture victims, smuggled out of Syria in 2013.[75] Numerous European citizens were also revealed to be among the torture victims.[76]
Chilling revelations of torture, rapes, massacres, extermination were revealed through the 2014 Caesar Report, which documented photographic evidences of industrial-scale atrocities occurring in Syrian military prisons.[77] The report documented a total of 55,000 digital images of tortured or dismembered human bodies of around 11,000 detainees.[78][79] Describing some of the torture techniques unleashed on Syrians held captive in military prisons, the military defector Caesar states:
"It was very clear that they were tortured, not tortured for a day or two, tortured for many, many long months. They were emaciated bodies, purely skeletons. There were people, most of them had their eyes gouged out. There was electrocution, you could tell by the dark spots on their body that was used there. There was utilization of knives and also big cables and belts that was used to beat them. And so, we could see every type of torture on the bodies of these individuals. 'Every type of torture,' but the depravity of the gouged eyes leaves to the imagination how maiming was calculated to coerce information. By 2013, the bodies overflowed the morgues and spilled across a parking garage at a military hospital."[77]
In 2023, Canada and Netherlands jointly filed a lawsuit against the Assad regime at the International Court of Justice (ICJ); charging Assad with ordering torture, rapes and other de-humanising tactics on hundreds of thousands of detainees in Syrian prison networks, including women and children. The joint petition denounced the Ba'athist regime for inflicting "unimaginable physical and mental pain and suffering" as a deliberate strategy to collectively punish the Syrian population.[80][81][82] In a separate statement, Dutch Foreign Ministry accused Bashar al-Assad of committing severe human rights violations, war crimes and inhumane tactics against the Syrian people "on a grand scale".[83] The joint proceedings were after repeated Russian vetoes in the UN Security Council that blocked efforts to prosecute Bashar al-Assad over war crimes in International Criminal Court.[84]
Freedom of religion
[edit]
The Constitution provides for freedom of religion.[85] However, the Government restricts this right. While there is no official state religion, the Constitution requires that the president be Muslim and stipulates that Islamic jurisprudence, an expansion of Sharia Islamic law,[86] is a principal source of legislation. According to the U.S. Department of State's "International Religious Freedom Report 2007", the Constitution provides for freedom of faith and religious practice, provided that the religious rites do not disturb the public order. According to the report, the Syrian Government monitored the activities of all groups, including religious groups, discouraged proselytism, which it deemed a threat to relations among religious groups. The report said that the Government discriminated against the Jehovah's Witnesses and that there were occasional reports of minor tensions between religious groups, some attributable to economic rivalries rather than religious affiliation.[87] There is some concern among religious minorities that democratic reforms will result in oppression of religious minorities by Islamist movements that are now repressed.[88]
Syrian Sunnis are subject to heavy discrimination from the Alawite-dominated Baathist apparatus; since the regime elites associate them with the Syrian opposition. As a result, Syria's Sunni community has suffered the vast majority of the brutalities and war crimes perpetrated by the Ba'athist regime during the Syrian Civil War.[89]
Women's rights and LGBT rights
[edit]
Main article: LGBT rights in Syria
The Syrian regime discriminates against women through administrative measures that silence their voice and deploying political violence disproportianety against women. Sexual violence has long been a strategy of the regime to enforce the compliance of the populace. During the Syrian civil war, mass-rapes have been weaponised as a large-scale war-tactic by the Assad regime and the Ba'athist militant forces across Syria. Sexual violence against women on a political and sectarian basis has been described as a fundamental pillar of the regime's military strategy. Anti-Sunni Shabiha and other pro-Assad deathsquads carry out this policy on a sectarian basis, against Sunni women and girls. Many women suspected of pro-opposition sympathies are rounded up by Ba'athist paramilitaries and sexually assaulted in government detention centres and military prisons. Rural and poor women get disproportionately raped, assaulted, beaten and tortured in military prisons. Several women get abducted by dreaded Mukhabarat and raped in the offices of the secret police. According to many survivors, they can't return back to their society without justice against the perpetrators.[90][91][92][93]
Article 520 of the penal code of 1949, prohibits having homosexual relations, i.e. "carnal relations against the order of nature", and provides for up to three-years imprisonment.[94]
In 2010 the Syrian police began a crackdown that led to the arrest of over 25 men. The men were charged with various crimes ranging from homosexual acts and illegal drug use, to encouraging homosexual behavior and organizing obscene parties.[95] In the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (AANES), there exist Mala Jins (Women's houses) in more than 60 localities where women can seek refuge and demand justice.[96] There the women get support in matters like divorce, rape, beatings and other forms of domestic violence.[96] The women of the Mala Jin, have the authority to speak out banishments or in more serious cases encourage to file a criminal case.[97] Underage marriage is banned within the territory of the AANES[96] and in 2019 it passed a set of laws further strengthening women's rights.[98]
Freedom of movement
[edit]
Syrians can not leave the country without an "exit visa" granted by the authorities.[48][99] Article 13 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights provides for the human right of Freedom of Movement as such "(1) Everyone has the right to freedom of movement and residence within the borders of each state. (2) Everyone has the right to leave any country, including his own, and return to his country."[100] Bans have been said to have increased significantly since 2006, though exact statistics are hard to come by as secret security agencies are commonly the ones issuing the bans. The Syrian Constitution, in Article 38(3), allows freedom of movement "within the territories of the state unless restricted by a judicial decision or by the implementation of laws of public health and safety."[101]
After winning the 2007 presidential election in Syria with 99.82% of the declared votes, Bashar al-Assad implemented numerous measures that further intensified political and cultural repression in Syria.[102] Assad government expanded travel bans against numerous dissidents, intellectuals, authors and artists living in Syria; preventing them and their families from travelling abroad. In 2010, The Economist newspaper described Syrian government as "the worst offender among Arab states", that engaged in imposing travel bans and restricted free movement of people. More than 400 individuals in Syria were restricted by Assad regime's travel bans in 2010.[103] During this period, the Assad government arrested numerous journalists and shut down independent press centres, in addition to tightening its censorship of the Internet.[104]
From 2011 to 2015, the last four years of the Syrian war, the freedom of movement has been most widely restricted in certain areas and on certain individuals.[citation needed] Restrictions vary between regions, partly because of continuous fighting in certain areas.[citation needed] In rebel held areas there are severe restrictions on the movement of government supporters (or people thought to be government supporters).[citation needed] Foreign diplomats are unable to visit a majority of Syria, and are often not allowed outside of Damascus (Syrian capital).[citation needed]
In the areas of Jindires in Afrin, and Ras al Ayn, curfews were executed in 2012 and 2013 as rebel groups put in place a curfew of 5 pm, after which nobody could be seen in public. Then in December 2014, a travel ban was announced on Syrian men aged 18 to 42 (military age). The memorandum supposedly states that all Syrian males must have special permission to leave the country, obtained from army officials.[105]
An example of an individual travel ban is Louay Hussein, president of an opposition group in Syria (Building the Syrian State, or the BSS party), was unable to attend peace talks in Moscow in April 2015 because the government refused to rid of his lifelong travel ban, however on 26 April 2015 Hussein managed to evade his ban and flee to Spain.[106] Also Syrian human rights defenders are having their movement restrained by being held in arbitrary arrest. The human rights defenders Mazen Darwish, Hani Al-Zitani, and Hussein Gharir were arrested in February 2012 for 'publicizing terrorist acts'. The United Nations General Assembly has repeatedly called for their release.[107]
Al-Furat University in the city of Deir ez-Zor has been facing movement restrictions by ISIS recently. In January 2015 circulars were issued to ISIS checkpoints in the area to scrutinize all university students passing. To encourage students to abandon their studies and join the ranks of ISIS, the rebels have been restricting the students from traveling between government areas and ISIS-held areas, preventing many students from entering or exiting the university grounds.[108]
Further from this, there are certain restrictions on movement placed on Women, for example, Syrian law now allows males to place restrictions on certain female relatives. Women over the age of 18 are entitled to travel outside of Syria, however, a woman's husband may file a request for his wife to be banned from leaving the country. From July 2013, in certain villages in Syria (namely Mosul, Raqqu and Deir el-Zour), ISIS no longer allow women to appear in public alone, they must be accompanied by a male relative/guardian known as a mahram.[109] Security checkpoints in civilian areas set up by the government and by ISIS have allowed them to monitor these restrictions.[citation needed] With the males of Syria often being involved in the fighting, no matter which side, this is leaving many Syrian women at home alone with the children, stranded and unable to leave to purchase food and supplies.[citation needed] Further, women in Tel Abyad and Idlib city have been banned from driving by ISIS and Jabhat al-Nursa.[citation needed]
Other countries have begun closing their borders to Syrian refugees. On 7 October 2013, Turkey built a two-meter wall on the Syrian border in the Nusaybin district where there was frequent fighting with the rebels. Then on 9 March Turkey closed a further two of its border crossings from Syria, Oncupinar and Cilvegozu, in response to the escalating violence and worries of a terrorist plot. Up until this date Turkey had accepted nearly 2 million Syrian refugees. Aid trucks are still welcome to cross the border, but it is strictly closed to individuals.[110]
The Syrian government continues its practice of issuing exit visas with strict requirements.[citation needed] They have also closed the Damascus airport frequently because of growing violence.[citation needed] Bans on travel are frequently used against human rights activists and their associates, often these people would not learn about their travel ban until they were prevented leaving the country.[citation needed] Usually no explanations are given for these travel restrictions.[citation needed] The government often bans members of the opposition and their families from traveling abroad, and they are targeted if they attempt to, causing opposition families to fear to attempt to leave Syria for fear of being attacked at the airport or border crossing.[citation needed] Though this action is illegal under international law, Syrian courts have been known to decline to interfere in matters of national security.[citation needed]
Article 38(1) provides that "no citizen may be deported from the country, or prevented from returning to it".[101] This, along with Article 13 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights creates a general legal right to travel internationally. As well as preventing citizens from leaving Syria, there have also been many instances of citizens being prevented from returning to Syria, whether they left illegally or not. A positive step in regards to this was taken on 28 April 2015, when it was announced by Syrian authorities that citizens who had previously fled the war would be able to re-attain passports without a review by the intelligence service, or going through the Department of emigration and passports. These citizens had fled the country illegally and either not taken their passports, or lost them.[111]
Human Rights Watch report in October 2021 that refugees who went back to Syria by their own choice suffered severe "human rights abuses and persecution at the hands of Syrian government and affiliated militias, including torture, extra-judicial killings, and kidnappings."[112][113]
Freedom of speech and the media
[edit]
The number of news media has increased in the past decade, but the Ba'ath Party continues to maintain control of the press.[114] Journalists and bloggers have been arrested and tried.[14] In 2009, the Committee to Protect Journalists named Syria number three in a list of the ten worst countries in which to be a blogger, given the arrests, harassment, and restrictions which online writers in Syria faced.[115]
Internet censorship in Syria is extensive. Syria bans websites for political reasons and arrests people accessing them. Internet cafes are required to record all the comments users post on chat forums.[116] Websites such as Wikipedia Arabic, YouTube and Facebook were blocked from 2008 to 2011.[117] Filtering and blocking was found to be pervasive in the political and Internet tools areas, and selective in the social and conflict/security areas by the OpenNet Initiative in August 2009.[118] Syria has been on Reporters Without Borders' Enemy of the Internet list since 2006 when the list was established.[119]
In addition to filtering a wide range of Web content, the Syrian government monitors Internet use very closely and has detained citizens "for expressing their opinions or reporting information online." Vague and broadly worded laws invite government abuse and have prompted Internet users to engage in self-censorship to avoid the state's ambiguous grounds for arrest.[118][120]
The Syrian Centre for Media and Free Expression was closed by the government in September 2009. It was the country's only NGO specializing in media issues, Internet access, and media monitoring during election campaigns. It had operated without government approval, and had monitored violations of journalists' rights and had taken up the cause of the ban on the dissemination of many newspapers and magazines.[114]
Syrian security forces arrested and beat up protestors on 15 June 2020. The protest started on 7 June 2020, in front of the governorate center against government's failure of handling economic downfall, deteriorating living conditions and corruption. HRW appealed the Syrian authority to release the peacefully protesting detainees.[121] Even pro-regime loyalist journalists who are allowed to report within the country are arrested by security forces over social media posts or ambiguos charges like being "out of line".[122]
Mass surveillance
[edit]
Ba'athist government has been ruling Syria as a totalitarian surveillance state, policing every aspect of Syrian society for decades.[123][124] Commanders of government's security forces – consisting of Syrian Arab Army, secret police, Ba'athist paramilitaries – directly implement the executive functions of the Syrian state, with scant regard for legal processes and bureaucracy. Security services shut down civil society organizations, curtail freedom of movement within the country and bans non-Ba'athist political literature and symbols.[125][126] During the Ba'athist rule, militarization of the Syrian society intensified. The number of personnel in the Syrian military and various intelligence entities expanded drastically from 65,000 in 1965 to 530,000 in 1991; and surpassed 700,000 in 2004.[127]
Ba'athist secret police consists of four wings: general intelligence and the political security directorates, which are supervised by the Syrian Ministry of Interior; military intelligence and the air force intelligence directorates, which are supervised by the Syrian Ministry of Defence. The four directorates are directly controlled by the National Security Bureau of the Arab Socialist Ba'ath Party, and heads of the four branches report directly to the Syrian president, who is also the secretary general of the Ba'ath party. The surveillance system of the Mukhabarat is pervasive, and over 65,000 full-time officers were estimated to be working in its various branches during the 2000s. In addition, there were hundreds of thousands of part-time employees and informers in various Syrian intelligence departments.[128] According to estimates, there is one member of various branches of the Ba'athist secret police for every 158 citizens, which is one of the largest ratios in the world.[129]
The general intelligence, political security, and military intelligence divisions of the Ba'athist secret police have several branches in all governorates controlled by the Assad regime, with headquarters in Damascus. With state impunity granted by the Assad government, Mukhabarat officers wield pervasive influence over local bodies, civil associations, and bureaucracy, playing a major role in shaping Ba'athist administrative decisions. Additionally, intense factional rivalries and power struggles exist among various branches of the secret police.[130] Several academics have described the military, bureaucratic, and secret police apparatus of the Ba'athist state as constituting a pyramidal socio-political structure with an Orwellian surveillance system designed to neutralize independent civic activities and political dissent from its very onset.[131][132]
Syria is one of the five countries on Reporters Without Borders organization's March 2013 list of "State Enemies of the Internet", countries ruled by governments that perpetrate pervasive surveillance of news providers, resulting in harsh restrictions on access to information and personal lives. Assad government has intensified its web censorship and cyber-monitoring during the course of the Syrian civil war. Assad government's cyberforces engage in several social engineering techniques and surveillance measures such as phishing, malware attacks, interception of Skype calls, etc.[133]
Syrian civil war
[edit]
During the Syrian civil war, a UN report described actions by the security forces as being "gross violations of human rights".[134] The UN report documented shooting recruits that refused to fire into peaceful crowds without warning, brutal interrogations including elements of sexual abuse of men and gang rape of young boys, staking out hospitals when wounded sought assistance, and shooting of children as young as two.[135] In 2011, Human Rights Watch stated that Syria's bleak human rights record stood out in the region. While Human Rights Watch doesn't rank offenders, many have characterized Syria's human rights report as among the worst in the world in 2010.[16]
As early as his public speech delivered on 30 March 2011, Assad had declared his intention to wipe out the protests with as much brute force as possible. He labelled the protests as an anti-Syrian conspiracy to foment "Fitna" and doubled down on his anti-Arab Spring stance stating: "Burying sedition is a national, moral, and religious duty, and all those who can contribute to burying it and do not are part of it. There is no compromise or middle way in this." In April 2011, Assad formed the Central Crisis Management Cell, a secret committee composed of high-ranking Baath party and Assad family elites, which centrally planned the national crackdown to suppress protests of the Syrian revolution.[67]
As the revolution spread across all the provinces in Syria, the Crisis Management Cell decided to intensify the repression by unleashing more violence and co-ordinate the security response, in a Ba'ath Party meeting. The key aspects of the new crackdown strategy included:[67]
Secret police and armed forces were ordered to initiate large-scale incursions into the houses of protest planners and independent journalists
"once each sector has been cleansed of wanted people", Ba'athist paramilitaries were to occupy these areas under protection of Syrian military and prevent survivors from returning to their homes
Formation of "joint investigation committees" headed by leaders of the Baathist security departments across all provinces to incarcerate suspected activists and cross-examining them in prisons
Transfer of the findings across all security branches for pinpointing of additional suspects
The commands were passed down to the provincial leaders of the party who were instructed to swiftly execute the orders in their respective regions
While Navi Pillay, the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, said that both sides in the conflict appeared to have committed war crimes in 2012,[137] United Nations' Independent International Commission of Inquiry on Syria also blamed the vast majority of atrocities on the Assad government forces.[138] Baathist forces were responsible for vast majority of the killings during the war, far outstripping casualties inflicted by groups like IS. Over 21,000 deaths occurred in 2015 alone, with more than 75% of them (over 15,700) being perpetrated by Syrian regime forces. Regime attacks also resulted in more than 12,000 civilian deaths, with around 38% of the victims being women and children.[139]
On 2 March 2018, UN High Commissioner for Human Rights, Zeid Ra'ad Al Hussein said, "Syria must be referred to the International Criminal Court. Attempts to thwart justice, and shield these criminals, are disgraceful."[140] Commission for International Justice and Accountability (CIJA), an independent war-crimes documentation agency has been conducting investigations on the crimes and atrocities committed during the Syrian war, with the organization employing around a hundred Syrians and Iraqis in the country, some of them insiders within the state bureaucratic apparatus.[67][141] In December 2018, CIJA chief Stephen Rapp who formerly served as the US Ambassador for Global Criminal Justice, stated that war-crimes committed by the Syrian regime constituted a "solid kind of evidence that we haven't really had since Nuremberg, when the Nazis were prosecuted." The proofs of documented crimes included a vast array of sources, ranging from 2 million video footages to the documents seized from the Baathist regional committees and command Crisis Centres. Rapp asserted that despite Russian objections in the UN Security Council, the evidences are sufficient for an international arrest warrant.[67][141]
Detention Centers
[edit]
Further information: Sednaya Prison
See also: Caesar Report
Detention Centers run by the Assad government have been one of the most glaring human rights abuses in Syria. In 2014, the Caesar Report showed gruesome photographs smuggled out of a Syria detention center showed "the systematic killing of more than 11,000 detainees by the Syrian government in one region" during a two and a half year period of the Syria Civil War. A 2016 United Nations investigative report described the detainees in Syrian prisons as suffering under "inhuman living conditions" characterized by unclean environment, lack of sanitation and food as well as systematic torture. Following the death of prisoners in custody, fake certificates were often distributed by the government to claim that the prisoners "died of natural causes". The report further denounced Assad regime's policies of torture and summary executions in detention centres as "extermination as a crime against humanity".[142] Syrian dungeons have been compared to the Nazi extermination camps of World War II, due to the scale of torture and mass killings going on in its prison networks. Journalist Russ Wellen reports that the "state killing machine exceeds the capacity of the system to process".[143]
In 2017 details emerged about Sednaya Prison, a military prison near Damascus operated by the Assad government. The prison has been used to hold thousands of prisoners, both civilian and government opposition. Amnesty International estimated that between 5,000 and 13,000 people were extrajudicially executed at the one prison between September 2011 and December 2015.[144] Survivor accounts from state-run prisons describe inhumane conditions, starvation, psychological trauma, and torture.[145]
Women have also faced human rights abuses and war crimes inside Assad prisons. A 2017 report by Lawyers and Doctors for Human Rights (LDHR)[146] collected first-hand accounts from women who survived rape and torture in Assad prisons. The 2017 Amnesty report on Syria's Sednaya Prison described the torture methods and living conditions of military detention centres and prisons as "subhuman", stating:
"Detainees are tortured beginning from the moment of their arrest, during their "welcome parties" – a term commonly used by Syrian detainees and guards to refer to the severe beatings received upon arrival at a detention facility – and throughout their interrogations.. Common methods of torture include severe beating, the use of electric shocks, sexual violence including rape and stress positions. These methods are often used in combination during multiple sessions over the course of days, weeks or months... detainees are held in subhuman conditions and systematically denied their basic needs, including food, water, medicine, medical care and sanitation. They are packed into filthy, overcrowded cells without access to fresh air, sunlight or ventilation. In these conditions, scabies, lice, infections and diseases run rampant, and many detainees develop serious mental illnesses such as psychosis. As a result of the torture and conditions they are forced to endure, detainees in government custody are dying on a massive scale."[147]
On 23 April 2020, two ex-Syrian secret police officers, Anwar R. and Eyad A., accused of committing war crimes in Syria's government-run detention center, appeared in a German court for a first of its kind trial. According to a 2018 report released by the expert panel of United Nations, the Assad government-run detention centers tortured more than 4,000 of the detained protestors and murdered at least 58 others.[148][149]
Forced Disappearances
[edit]
Since the start of the civil war in 2011, more than 100,000 people have been detained, forcibly disappeared or went missing in Syria as of 2019. At least 90,000 of them are thought to have been detained or forcibly disappeared in Syria's state prisons. Other reports estimate that more than 128,000 civilians have been kidnapped or forcibly disappeared by the regime forces by 2019.[150][151] Amnesty International stated in a 2019 press release:
"Until today, the Syrian government has failed to disclose the fate, names and location of people arbitrarily detained and disappeared by Syrian security forces. Some families were notified about the death of their relatives in detention, or were eventually able to find out that their loved one died in custody. Those who receive a death certificate – the only piece of "evidence" provided – are legally bound to then register the person's death in civil records, in order to obtain an official death certificate."[151]
Between 2011 and 2015, more than 17,700 civilians captured under regime prisons were summarily executed.[152] Between March 2011 and March 2023, an estimated 154,000 civilians have been forcibly disappeared, abducted or subject to arbitrary detentions in Syria; with over 135,000 individuals being tortured, imprisoned or dead in government detention centres as of 2023.[153]
In June 2023, UN General Assembly voted in favour of establishing an independent body to investigate the whereabouts hundreds of thousands of missing civilians who have been forcibly disappeared, killed or languishing in Syrian government prisons.[154][155] This was after increasing demands to establish a UN approved body by more than a hundred Syrian civil society groups and human rights organizations like the Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch and International Committee of the Red Cross. The objective of the new body is to ensure better co-ordination to collect information of disappeared individuals. Assad regime denounced the vote as "flagrant interference" in Syria's domestic issues.[156]
Human rights in ISIL-controlled territory
[edit]
The state of human rights in territories controlled by the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant has been criticized by many political, religious and other organizations and individuals. The United Nations Commission on Human Rights has stated that ISIL "seeks to subjugate civilians under its control and dominate every aspect of their lives through terror, indoctrination, and the provision of services to those who obey".[157]
Human rights in the Democratic Federation of Northern Syria
[edit]
Human rights violations against Kurds included depriving ethnic Kurdish citizens of their citizenship; suppressing Kurdish language and culture; discrimination against citizens based on Kurdish ethnicity; confiscation of Kurdish land and settlement by Arabs.[158][159][160] In the course of the Syrian Civil War, parts of Northern Syria gained de facto autonomy within the Kurdish-led Democratic Federation of Northern Syria.
In a report "'We Had Nowhere Else to Go': Forced Displacement and Demolition in Northern Syria", Amnesty International documented allegations of forced evictions of Arabs, Turkmens and Kurds and the destruction of their homes. According to Amnesty International, YPG accused them of having links with ISIL and other Islamist groupa. The report said that "in some cases, entire villages have been demolished", and that villagers were "ordered to leave at gunpoint, their livestock shot at". Some persons claimed to Amnesty that "they told us we had to leave or they would tell the US coalition that we were terrorists and their planes would hit us and our families. Threats by the YPG of calling in US airstrikes against villagers were reported. Amnesty International claimed that "these instances of forced displacement constitute war crimes".[161][162][163][164] Some Arab and Turkmen claimed that YPG militias have stolen their homes and livestock, burned their personal documents and claimed the land as theirs, and that Turkmen "are losing lands where they have been living for centuries".[165] During the Syrian civil war, several attacks by Arab or Kurdish Muslims have targeted Syrian Christians, including the 2015 al-Qamishli bombings. In January 2016, YPG militias conducted a surprise attack on Assyrian checkpoints in Qamishli, in a predominantly Assyrian area, killing one Assyrian and wounding three others.[166][167][168]
In October 2015, Amnesty International reported that the YPG had driven civilians from northern Syria and destroyed their homes in retaliation for perceived links to ISIL. The majority of the destroyed homes belonged to Arabs, but some belonged to Turkmens and Kurds.[169] Turkish "Daily Sabah" claimed that Amnesty International has said that Kurdish PYD conducted ethnic cleansing against Turkmens and Arabs after seizing Tal Abyad.[170] However, Amnesty International has published only one report about the Syrian Kurdish forces and it is related to destroying villages and homes, not ethnic cleansing at all.[171] The Amnesty International report concluded that there are documented cases of forced displacement that constitute war crimes.[172] In 2015, Assyrian and Armenian organizations protested the enforcement of Kurdish self-administration in the Hasaka province, including expropriation of private property by the PYD and interference in church school curricula and also criticized illegal seizure of property, and targeted killings[173][174][175] Assyrians have also criticized the enforcement of revisionist curricula in private and public schools with a Kurdish-nationalist bias. They have claimed that in textbooks the Kurds "alter historical and geographical facts", including Assyrian place names which are changed to Kurdish names, and students are taught that King Nebuchadnezzar from the Old Testament married a Kurdish woman.[176][177] Of particular concern are the "harassment and arbitrary arrests of the PYD's Kurdish political rivals" and of civil society leaders noted by human rights organizations.[178] The Y.P.G. is accused of having arrested hundreds of political prisoners. It is claimed that about 150 people were abducted by the Y.P.G. in 2013 alone. Human Rights Watch reported in 2014 that "there have been numerous cases of maltreatment in prisons in Rojava". Some dissidents were tortured and killed[179] Amnesty International reported in 2015 that the PYD "is using a crackdown against terrorism...as a pretext to unlawfully detain and unfairly try peaceful critics and civilians."[180][181][182] The PYD has also shot demonstrators, arrested political opponents, and shut down media outlets.[183][184][185] Ethnic tensions between Kurds and Arabs have been at the forefront of the conflicts in Syria and Iraq. In Syria, there are widespread reports of Kurdish abuses against Arab civilians,[183] including arbitrary arrests, forced displacement,[186] and reports of YPG forces razing villages.[187] Similar reports of Kurdish forces destroying Arab homes have emerged in the fight for Mosul.[188][185]
See also
[edit]
Freedom of speech portal
Asia portal
Al-Marsad
Caesar Syria Civilian Protection Act
Human rights in Islamic countries
Human rights in the Democratic Federation of Northern Syria
Human rights in the Middle East
Human trafficking in Syria
Syrian Civil War
Syrian Observatory for Human Rights
Wissam Tarif
This article incorporates text from this source, which is in the public domain. Country Studies. Federal Research Division. – Syria profile
Notes
[edit] | ||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 46 | https://www.al-monitor.com/originals/2024/03/switzerland-charges-rifaat-assad-war-crimes-syrias-hama-massacre | en | Switzerland charges Rifaat Assad with war crimes in Syria’s Hama massacre | [
"https://www.facebook.com/tr?id=966621336700630&ev=PageView&noscript=1",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/themes/custom/alm/logo.svg",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/themes/custom/alm/logo.svg",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/sites/default/files/styles/article_header/public/2024-03/GettyImages-938761488.jpg?h=a5ae579a&i... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Adam Lucente",
"Adam Lucente @Adam_Lucente"
] | 2024-03-12T12:23:21-04:00 | Syrian President Bashar al-Assad's brother, Rifaat al-Assad, has also been convicted of financial crimes in France. | en | /themes/custom/alm/icons/globe.svg | Al-Monitor: Independent, trusted coverage of the Middle East | https://www.al-monitor.com/originals/2024/03/switzerland-charges-rifaat-assad-war-crimes-syrias-hama-massacre | Switzerland charged the uncle of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad with war crimes on Tuesday, becoming the second European country to take such action against the former army officer.
Rifaat al-Assad, 86, was charged with war crimes and crimes against humanity, Switzerland’s Office of the Attorney General said in a statement. Assad allegedly ordered homicides, torture and illegal detentions of thousands of civilians in 1982 as commander of the government’s defense brigades and operations in central Syria’s Hama, according to the office.
The Syrian government did not immediately comment on the charges.
The office began a criminal investigation into Assad after a 2013 filing by the Geneva-based organization TRIAL International. Switzerland can initiate legal proceedings against Assad under the principle of universal jurisdiction for war crimes and because he was in Switzerland when the investigation began, according to the statement.
The charges pertain to the 1982 Hama massacre in the eponymous central Syrian city. The Muslim Brotherhood had been leading an uprising against the government of late President Hafez al-Assad, Rifaat’s older brother, at the time. The revolt was crushed when forces led by Rifaat al-Assad besieged and then stormed Hama. The Syrian Network for Human Rights estimates that between 30,000 and 40,000 civilians were killed in the assault.
Assad was exiled from Syria in 1984 after a failed coup attempt against his brother. He traveled to Switzerland and later France before returning to Syria in 2021. That same year, the Swiss attorney general’s office attempted to issue an arrest warrant for him, but the Justice Ministry found that the country did not have jurisdiction to do so. A Swiss court overturned the ministry in 2022, allowing the country to issue an arrest warrant, according to Agence France-Presse.
Rifaat al-Assad last appeared in public in a photo with the current president and first lady Asma al-Assad in Damascus last April. It remains unclear if he is now residing in Syria or elsewhere in the region.
Though Assad is not likely to return to Switzerland for the trial, Swiss law allows trials in abstentia under certain conditions.
TRIAL International praised the news of the charges against Assad.
“With today’s indictment, the victims can finally look forward to justice being done,” said the organization in a statement. “Rifaat al-Assad, the uncle of current Syrian President Bashar al-Assad, will be one of the highest-ranking government officials ever to be tried for international crimes based on the principle of universal jurisdiction.”
Why it matters: There have been several attempts by European governments to try Syrian individuals for war crimes in the past few years. Unlike the case against Assad, the other proceedings have been related to the ongoing Syrian civil war.
The following is a breakdown of some of the recent legal proceedings in Europe against Syrians accused of war crimes:
Belgium detained a man in January on suspicion of committing war crimes while in a pro-Syrian government militia.
A Dutch court convicted a pro-Syrian government militia member of war crimes in January.
A French court issued an arrest warrant for the president in November for complicity in war crimes.
Others in Europe have been prosecuted for allegedly fighting in Syrian rebel groups. In 2014, Germany charged a man with belonging to a terrorist organization for his alleged involvement with the Syrian rebel group Junud al-Sham. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 13 | https://www.usip.org/syria-timeline-uprising-against-assad | en | Syria Timeline: Since the Uprising Against Assad | [
"https://www.usip.org/sites/default/files/styles/headshot/public/2018-11/mona-yacoubian.png?itok=C072p0vV",
"https://www.usip.org/sites/default/files/2017-01/ConflictAnalysisandPrevention_0.svg",
"https://www.usip.org/sites/default/files/2016-12/syria.svg",
"https://www.usip.org/sites/default/files/styles/sum... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2021-03-12T15:54:30-05:00 | Protests during the 2011 Arab uprisings triggered one of the deadliest wars of the early 21st century. It produced one of the gravest humanitarian crises, as hundreds of thousands were killed, millions fled their homes, and more than half the population relied on aid for daily sustenance. | en | /themes/custom/usip/favicon.ico | United States Institute of Peace | https://www.usip.org/syria-timeline-uprising-against-assad | The first phase was ignited by protests in early 2011. Inspired by the Arab Spring uprisings across the Middle East, Syrian adolescents in southern Daraa scrawled anti-regime graffiti on public walls. They were arrested, held for days and tortured, in turn prompting local demonstrations that called for their release. Peaceful protests rapidly spread across Syria as the focus shifted to the regime of President Bashar Assad. As the marches gained momentum, the regime unleashed its military firepower.
The second phase witnessed the onset of an armed insurgency and Syria’s descent into full-scale civil war. By 2012, an array of poorly organized opposition groups had formed rebel brigades—many armed by foreign patrons—that seized key cities in the north, including parts of Aleppo, Syria’s largest city. As the government lost territory in 2013, Lebanon’s Hezbollah openly deployed its fighters and the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC) dispatched military advisors to prop up the Assad government.
The third phase was marked by the rise of ISIS and other hardline Islamist groups that tapped local sympathizers as well as foreign fighters. In 2014, the creation of the Islamic State caliphate—which claimed roughly a third of Syrian territory, with Raqqa as its capital—generated a different set of flash points and frontlines. It was, basically, a different war. It also prompted direct U.S. military intervention. Meanwhile, moderate rebel groups fighting the government were increasingly eclipsed by extremist factions.
The fourth phase, in 2015 and 2016, featured growing Russian military intervention, especially airpower, against moderate rebel factions. Russia deployed some of its most sophisticated weaponry and air defense systems. The roles of Hezbollah and Iran deepened too.
During the fifth phase, the Assad regime retook territory and consolidated its control over most of the country. By the end of 2016, it had retaken major cities, including Aleppo, as well as areas across Syria’s strategic western spine. In 2017, it knit together patches of the countryside to cement the restoration of government power. By mid-2018, it also recaptured strategic suburbs surrounding Damascus for the first time in five years. It then turned its sights further south to Daraa, the birthplace of the uprising. It seized the city as well as most of southwest Syria by the summer of 2018.
Each of these phases featured failed efforts at diplomacy, initially led by the United Nations and backed by the United States. But the negotiations, in Geneva, repeatedly deadlocked. In 2017, Russia launched a separate initiative, with Iran and Turkey as partners, that included negotiations in Astana, the Kazakh capital, and Sochi in Russia.
Erupting in the heart of the Levant, Syria’s war had a rippling impact throughout the Middle East; it also reverberated deep into Europe. It sparked the largest humanitarian crisis since the end of World War II (only surpassed in 2018 by Yemen’s war). Millions of refugees poured into Turkey, Jordan, Lebanon and even Iraq and Egypt as well as several European countries, where the refugee crisis redefined the political landscape. At home, more than half of Syria’s population was displaced and dependent on humanitarian aid for daily subsistence. Destruction—of homes, schools, businesses, hospitals, roads and infrastructure—was estimated in the hundreds of billions of dollars.
The multiple layers of Syria’s war reflect broader trends in the Middle East—and potentially future conflicts. They include:
The rise of a new generation of jihadists who have espoused a more virulent Salafi-jihadist ideology and focused on seizing territory and creating their own states.
Battlefield tactics that transgressed the modern norms of armed conflict, especially the indiscriminate bombing of civilians and the repeated use of chemical weapons. One chemical weapon attack by the Syrian government, in August 2013, killed more than 1,000 civilians. The government has used various chemical weapons—from sarin, a toxic nerve agent banned by international law, to chlorine, a dual-use chemical—at least 50 times, according to U.S. government sources.
The leveraging of emerging technologies—including drones, encryption and social media, and electronic warfare—across virtual and real battle spaces.
Massive civilian displacement and humanitarian need that overwhelmed the international assistance infrastructure and imperiled neighboring countries that tried to host refugees.
Originally posted February 2019. Updated January 2021. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 11 | https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/lseih/2020/08/10/hafez-al-assads-legacy-and-the-syrian-civil-war/ | en | Hafez al-Assad’s Legacy and the Syrian Civil War | [
"https://blogsmedia.lse.ac.uk/blogs.dir/84/files/2022/08/lse-logo-blogs.jpg",
"https://blogsmedia.lse.ac.uk/blogs.dir/84/files/2022/08/lse-logo-blogs.jpg",
"https://blogsmedia.lse.ac.uk/blogs.dir/84/files/2022/08/LSE-Logo_Master-File_RGB_Txt_Wht_e0112b-new.png",
"https://blogsmedia.lse.ac.uk/blogs.dir/84/file... | [] | [] | [
"syrian civil war",
"hafez al-assad",
"bashar al-assad",
"syria",
"syria war",
"syrian military",
"syrian armed forces",
"syria cold war",
"russia syria",
"iran syria",
"us syria",
"syria before war",
"syrian president",
"uncategorized"
] | null | [] | 2020-08-10T00:00:00 | Here Jack Sargent argues that Hafez al-Assad's military policies in the 1970s-80s allowed the Ba'athist Syrian Arab Republic to survive the Syrian Civil War. | LSE International History | https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/lseih/2020/08/10/hafez-al-assads-legacy-and-the-syrian-civil-war/ | In 2010 the Arab Spring and subsequent armed rebellions destabilised authoritarian regimes in the Middle-East and North Africa, causing the downfall of many long-standing dictators and oligarchs. Although Syria was engulfed by the movement and the Civil War that followed, unlike his counterparts, President Bashar al-Assad survived the onslaught and has since regained control of most of the nation. In this article Jack Sargent revisits Cold War Syria and argues that it was not just foreign support but the erstwhile President Hafez al-Assad’s military legacy that allowed the Ba’athist Syrian Arab Republic to weather the storm.
Coverage following the outbreak of protests in Syria in 2011 painted a uniformly bleak fate for Bashar al-Assad. Fresh from the fall of dictatorial regimes in Tunisia (Ben Ali), Egypt (Hosni Mubarak), and Libya (Muammar Qaddafi), some predicted collapse for the Baathist regime while others argued for Western intervention. US-led NATO and allied forces intervened comprehensively in Libya, with a United Nations Security Council Resolution permitting them ‘…to take all necessary measures…to protect civilians and civilian populated areas under threat of attack’. The resulting no-fly zone and air strikes guaranteed Muammar Qaddafi’s defeat. Yet no such intervention ever came for Syria. This is because further military intervention in the Middle East was deeply unpopular in the US and UK where there was a desire not to replicate the chaos that followed the fall of Qaddafi.
Nine years after the outbreak of the Syrian Civil War, Bashar al-Assad has won. He controls most of the country, and key Western allies have reopened diplomatic ties and abandoned calls for his removal. Strong support from Iran and Russia in the early years of the Syrian Civil War was undoubtedly critical to Assad’s success. Since 2013, Iran has provided thousands of militiamen, and in 2015, Russia deployed a significant contingent of fighter jets and military forces. Prior to 2013, Russia and Iran gave much-needed financial and material aid. Russian and Iranian military intervention were key in guaranteeing victory in the face of refusal to uphold redlines, match policy with rhetoric, and apply appropriate pressure to Syria’s backers. However, the Syrian military was surprisingly durable and able to stave off immediate defeat until direct military intervention by Iran and Russia.
Outside support alone did not guarantee victory or ensure the durability of Bashar al-Assad’s regime. In seeking to understand Bashar al-Assad’s durability, scholars and pundits continually overlook the impact of Hafez al-Assad’s military policies in the 1970s and 1980s. The late Syrian dictator ensured his son, Bashar, inherited a military that was institutionally loyal, large, and home to multiple elite units that the Assad dynasty relies on for their survival.
Prior to Hafez al-Assad’s three-decade rule, Syria had been wracked by sixteen military coups; nine of which were successful. Despite this, there was never an attempt by the military to depose Hafez; he inculcated the military with intense loyalty. It was that same institutional loyalty which saved Bashar al-Assad during the Syrian Civil War. Despite some defections, the military as an institution remained largely loyal. Hafez al-Assad fostered this loyalty through genuine reform, lucrative incentives, and dictatorial surveillance.
As Kamal Alam notes, until 2011 the Syrian military was a popular institution, especially as a means of escaping economic vulnerability. Unlike the religious homogeneity of armed forces in the Middle East, the Syrian military is secular because Hafez al-Assad, himself a product of the military, recognised its importance and sought to maintain its secular nature, eliminating military interference in domestic politics. Hafez removed the risk of military coup through Ba’athist involvement in officer education and ensuring careful representation of socio-economic, religious, and ethnic groups. Ba’athist education indoctrinated the officer corps, and a careful social balance co-opted any would-be dissident groups.
In addition, Eyal Zisser shows how three policies made the military ‘a loyal and obedient watchdog’. Firstly, Hafez ensured his ethnic background (Alawaite) and tribe (Kalabiyya) were well represented – but not overwhelmingly so – in the officer corps. This gave him a network of trustworthy individuals linked by family and kinship. Secondly, he allowed senior officers to ‘turn their units into political and economic fiefdoms’ and generate large amounts of illicit revenue in return for loyalty. Lastly, Hafez established a labyrinth of brutal intelligence agencies to police the Syrian state and military. Within this system, ‘commanders…reported directly to Assad,’ and the services operate ‘in near total secrecy’ with ‘overlapping functions,’ to provide immediate information on possible dissent, allowing direct action by Assad.
The measures Hafez took to ensure military loyalty were effective in cementing genuine institutional loyalty. The following two examples demonstrate this. When Hafez’s brother Rifat attempted to seize control in 1984, Rifat’s offers of increased power were flatly rejected by the ‘all-Sunni [military] cast’ to whom Hafez had entrusted ‘day to day affairs’. Likewise, when Assad massacred an estimated 25,000 of Hama’s largely Sunni civilians in the 1982 Hama uprising, his carefully coordinated measures for complete military loyalty ensured the compliance of the mostly Sunni Syrian military.
Whether through loyalty or fear of non-compliance, Bashar al-Assad inherited a military institution that was loyal. He enjoyed the guaranteed support of the officer corps, the nervous system of any military. While defections still occurred, and occasionally in large numbers, they were mostly confined to low ranking enlisted personnel. Thus, facing an uncertain future in a post-Assad Syria and the increasingly sectarian nature of the conflict (a deliberate policy of Bashar al-Assad), the military had no incentive to abandon the Assad family. Moreover, the military had already proven under Hafez that it would be loyal to the Assad family even past the point of massacring its own citizens. This allowed Bashar al-Assad to brazenly pursue a policy which involved the commission of heinous war crimes without fear of losing military support. The military were well versed in ‘Hama rules’.
Upon his ascension to power, Hafez al-Assad oversaw an increase in military size from 87,000 thousand in 1970, to 316,000 total active military personnel in 2000, replete with thousands of vehicles and artillery pieces, as well as several hundred military aircraft. Thus, the pre-Civil War army under Bashar al-Assad had roughly 200,000 active duty soldiers and a large, aging air force. The SAA’s increase in size was an underacknowledged and incredibly impactful of Hafez’s nearly three-decade rule, which arguably prevented the total collapse of the regime in the Civil War. Syria’s intense rivalry with Israel was the catalyst for this build-up. Syria felt pressure to maintain ‘strategic parity,’ believing they would have to ‘go [at] it alone’ on account of Egyptian and Jordanian acceptance of Israel. The aim of this build up was to balance Israel with a ‘military parity in force numbers.’
While matching Israel was obviously important, this strategy was only made possible by massive shipments of Soviet arms on very favourable terms. The Soviet Union even provided Syria’s military with equipment superior to that shared with their Eastern Bloc allies. This newer, sophisticated military equipment required the deployment of over 1500 Soviet military advisors to Syria to provide technical instruction. Bashar did not question the need to maintain such a large force, likely owing to Syria’s inability to finance a dramatic reshaping of its military and the need to maintain his father’s intimate relationship with the armed forces for his own survival.
The military’s size was decisive in enabling the regime to absorb losses of roughly 150,000 personnel due to ‘desertion, defection, and combat attrition.’ Had Hafez al-Assad only sought to maintain a military similar in size to that which fought the 1973 War (which was roughly 112,000 active military personnel), the military Bashar inherited would’ve quickly collapsed. Likewise, (depending on estimates of opposition size) the manpower of the military allowed it to, at worst, match the size of opposition forces and, at best, enjoy a 2.5 to 1 soldier-to-insurgent force ratio. While still less than the ‘3:1 superiority [necessary] for victory’, it allowed the regime to stave off immediate defeat.
Furthermore, the Syrian Arab Air Force (SyAAF) maintained significant numbers of aircraft, despite its obsolescence and the minimal training of pilots. In total, the SyAAF operated 500 combat planes and helicopters at the outset of the war, almost all of which were procured under Hafez’s rule. When coupled with the West’s refusal to implement a no-fly zone and the limited air defences of Syrian opposition forces, this obsolete and poorly equipped force was able to, at times, conduct 50 to 100 missions a day, a capability unmatched by any opposition force.
Not only did Hafez create a military that was loyal and large, he ensured that it was home to well-trained and well-equipped units designed to act as a praetorian guard for the Assad regime. The first incarnation of these forces was the Defence Companies, commanded by Hafez’s brother Rifat al-Assad which, at their peak, allegedly constituted as much as ‘a full third of Syrian land forces’. Patrick Seale explains that Rifat acted as ‘…the shield of his brother’s regime’ and ‘built up his Defence Companies…into the best armed, best trained, and best paid units in the Syrian Army’ whose personnel were largely chosen for their ‘close tribal links to Hafez al-Assad’.
Following Rifat’s failed 1984 coup, the forces he commanded were integrated into existing Army Special Forces units or demobilised, leaving the Defence Companies with a single division (which can comprise 5-15,000 men), which became Syria’s now infamous 4th Armoured Division. Large numbers of special forces were a key feature of Hafez al-Assad’s army, providing a surprisingly effective fighting force extensively deployed to Lebanon and around Damascus. As Hafez relied on them for personal and regime protection he had to ensure they were competent. This entailed extensive training with Soviet and Russian special forces thus making it the most effective force in the army. The trust Hafez placed in the special forces allowed them to operate proactively and avoid the ‘unwillingness…to show initiative or react independently [of]…the usual chain of command’ that plagued the SAA. As a result, Syrian special forces enjoyed daunting successes. In the 1973 War, they captured a sensitive Israeli observation post in the Golan Heights. Niche elements of the Russian trained Syrian special forces have also frequently operated covertly in Lebanon, Jordan, the West Bank, and on ‘very few occasions’ in Israel.
Hafez’s policies provided the blueprint for how Bashar uses the special forces in the Syrian Civil War – a fact overlooked in contemporary analysis of the Syrian military performance. Bashar al-Assad controlled roughly 65-75,000 Special Forces soldiers in 2011. The Syrian Arab Army has been heavily reliant on special forces as both a spearhead and quick reaction force. Testimony from a special forces commander outlined multiple deployments involving ‘ a year-and-a-half in Idlib, Khan el Asal and Aleppo for seven months, and the suburbs of Damascus for…16 months’. Identical to his father’s handling of Hama in 1982, Bashar al-Assad used (and continues to use) the special forces to deal with sensitive and direct challenges to his rule. Idlib and Aleppo were strongholds of resistance in the Civil War to which Bashar applied intense brutality starkly reminiscent of Hama. Additionally, Bashar preserved his father’s reliance on special forces to defend Damascus – the seat of his regime – where the units were heavily involved in fighting.
The Syrian military proved markedly durable between the outbreak of the Civil War and outright Iranian and Russian military intervention. While contemporary discourse tends to point to Iranian and Russian support as the main cause of regime survival, it overlooks the fact that Hafez al-Assad’s military legacy allowed the regime to survive the early years of the Syrian Civil War. This strong military legacy was unchanged by Bashar al-Assad, who inherited a vast military capable of sustaining considerable loss, that was resolutely loyal, and home to a significant number of elite, trustworthy units. Faced with the seemingly unstoppable tide of the Arab Spring, Bashar used the Syrian Arab Armed Forces to brutalise his way to pyrrhic victory.
Jack Sargent is a recent graduate of LSE’s History of International Relations MSc Programme. His research focuses on Middle Eastern regional security issues and nuclear proliferation. His dissertation examined the nuclear ambitions of the Shah of Iran.
Cover Image: Hafez al-Assad standing on the wing of a Fiat G.46-4B with fellow cadets at the Syrian Air Force Academy outside Aleppo. Between 1953-1954. Wikimedia Commons | ||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 44 | https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/09/20/how-a-syrian-war-criminal-and-double-agent-disappeared-in-europe | en | How a Syrian War Criminal and Double Agent Disappeared in Europe | [
"https://www.newyorker.com/verso/static/the-new-yorker/assets/logo.svg",
"https://www.newyorker.com/verso/static/the-new-yorker/assets/logo-header.svg",
"https://media.newyorker.com/photos/613c075b8ec453e8d5b66221/master/w_2560%2Cc_limit/210920_r39012_rd.jpg",
"https://media.newyorker.com/cartoons/613c07376f4... | [] | [] | [
"criminals",
"spies",
"agents",
"syria",
"intelligence",
"disappearances",
"europe",
"wars"
] | null | [
"Ben Taub",
"Richard Brody",
"Annie Proulx",
"Vinson Cunningham",
"Condé Nast"
] | 2021-09-20T00:00:00 | In the bloody civil war, Khaled al-Halabi switched sides, Ben Taub writes. But what country does he really serve? | en | https://www.newyorker.com/verso/static/the-new-yorker/assets/favicon.ico | The New Yorker | https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/09/20/how-a-syrian-war-criminal-and-double-agent-disappeared-in-europe | On a September day in 1961, a thin man with a small mustache walked into a post office in Damascus to pick up a parcel addressed to Georg Fischer. Few people knew that Fischer, an ill-tempered Austrian weapons merchant, was actually the S.S. Hauptsturmführer Alois Brunner, “the erstwhile assistant of Adolf Eichmann in the annihilation of Jews,” as a classified U.S. cable put it. But among those who were aware of his identity was a Mossad operative who had infiltrated the Syrian élite. When Brunner opened the package, it exploded, killing two postal workers and blinding him in the left eye.
The Israeli spy was later caught, tortured, and executed; Brunner lived openly in Damascus for the next several decades, in the third-floor apartment of 7 Rue Haddad. “Among Third Reich criminals still alive, Alois Brunner is undoubtedly the worst,” the Nazi hunter Simon Wiesenthal wrote, in 1988. France sentenced Brunner to death in absentia. Israel tried to kill him a second time, but the bomb took only some fingers. Brunner told a German magazine that his chief regret was not having killed more Jews.
Hafez al-Assad, Syria’s dictator, ignored multiple requests for Brunner’s extradition. Brunner was useful—as an assertion of Syrian state sovereignty, a mockery of global norms and values, and an affront to Israel, Syria’s neighbor and enemy. He was, as someone in Assad’s inner circle later put it, “a card that the regime kept in its hand.”
But, in the late nineties, as Assad’s health was failing, he became devoted to the task of preparing his ruthless world for his son. After inheriting the Presidency, Bashar al-Assad would portray himself as a reformer; it might be a liability to have an avowed génocidaire in the diplomatic quarter, flanked by Syrian guards. For the next fifteen years, Nazi hunters assumed that Brunner was hidden away on Rue Haddad, perhaps even past his hundredth birthday. But no one saw him, so no one knew for sure.
Brunner and other Nazis had helped structure Syria’s intelligence services, and trained its officers in the arts of interrogation. In Syrian detention centers, their techniques are used to this day. Among the practitioners was Khaled al-Halabi, a Syrian Army officer who was assigned to the intelligence services in 2001. By his own account, he was a reluctant spy—he wanted to remain a soldier. Nevertheless, he served for the next twelve years, ascending through the ranks.
When Syria erupted in revolution, in 2011, Assad and his deputies blamed the protests on outside forces. They jailed activists who spoke to foreign news outlets, and targeted for arrest people whose phones contained songs that were “rather offensive to Mr. President.” Even internal government communications asserted that the instability in Syria was the result of “Zionist-American plots.” But Halabi understood that the crisis was real. He raised his concerns with his boss. “Ninety-five per cent of the population is against the regime,” Halabi later recalled saying. “I asked him if we should kill everyone. He couldn’t answer me.”
In the next decade, Halabi would become the unwitting successor to Brunner’s circumstances. Diplomats and spies from other governments weighed Halabi’s and Brunner’s past service and perceived utility against potential future risks—and sometimes miscalculated. The two men even traded countries. In some ways, they were nothing alike: the Austrian was a monster; the Syrian, by most accounts, is not. But each man carried out the functions of a murderous regime. And, in the end, their actions as intelligence officers came to be their only protection—and the reason they needed it.
By the end of February, 2013, Khaled al-Halabi was running out of time. For the previous five years, he had served as the chief of the General Intelligence Directorate branch in Raqqa, a vast desert province in the northeastern part of Syria, far from his wife and children. To the locals, he was an outsider with the authority to detain, torture, and kill them. But Halabi, who was a fifty-year-old brigadier general, felt insecure within Syria’s intelligence apparatus. An employee at his branch of the directorate described him as a “well-educated and decent man” who was not a strong or decisive leader. Another noted that Halabi, who belonged to a religious minority known as the Druze, was afraid of two of his subordinates who, like Assad, were Alawites. He overlooked their rampant corruption and abuses.
It was partly through this sectarian lens that Halabi seemed to make sense of his professional disappointments. He thought of himself as a “brilliant officer,” he later said, and was the only Druze in Syrian intelligence to become a regional director. But, he added, “to be frank, Raqqa is the least important region in the country. That’s why they stationed me there. It was like putting me in a closet.”
Halabi regarded the local population with sympathetic disdain. They were tribal and conservative; he was a secular man with a law degree, who drank alcohol and read Marxist literature. To the extent that he had political beliefs, they were aligned with those of some of the leftist intellectuals whom he was occasionally ordered to arrest. His wife and children refused to visit Raqqa; they stayed hundreds of miles away, in Damascus and in Suweida, the predominantly Druze city Halabi was from. In time, Halabi began an affair with a woman who worked in the environmental ministry. A nurse recalled him asking for Viagra.
His rivals exploited such transgressions. Syria’s security-intelligence apparatus comprises four parallel agencies with overlapping responsibilities, and Halabi’s counterpart in Military Intelligence, an Alawite named Jameh Jameh, had taken a particular dislike to him. “He spread rumors that I was drunk all the time, that I don’t work, that I don’t leave the office because there are young boys coming to see me,” Halabi complained. One day, after Halabi left Raqqa to visit his family in Suweida, his car was ambushed at a checkpoint. He narrowly escaped assassination, he later said, and was convinced that Jameh had ordered the hit. If Halabi’s assessment was paranoid, it wasn’t baseless; Military Intelligence was wiretapping his phone.
The people of Raqqa were overwhelmingly Sunni and rural, and had benefitted little from the government in Damascus. When the protests began, the regional governor advised his security committee that “only threats and intimidation worked.” Halabi initially tried to act as a voice of moderation. According to a defector, he told his officers not to arrest minors, and, when possible, to patrol without arms. But, in March, 2012, after security forces killed a local teen-ager, armed conflict broke out in the province. One day, Halabi gathered his section heads and told them to open fire on any gathering of more than four people. It wasn’t his decision, he said; he had received the order from his boss in Damascus, Ali Mamlouk.
As Halabi saw it, Assad’s inner circle treated Raqqa as a limb to be sacrificed in order to protect “the heart of the country.” They deployed only a thousand troops to the province, which is about the size of New Jersey. By the end of 2012, the Free Syrian Army—a constellation of rebel factions with disparate ideologies—had captured key portions of the route from Raqqa to Damascus. It joined forces with Islamist and jihadi groups in the surrounding countryside. In Halabi’s assessment, the battle was over before it began. “Anyone who thought otherwise is an imbecile,” he said.
There are five main entrances to Raqqa, and by February, 2013, the city was under threat from all of them. Four were guarded by members of the other intelligence branches. The fifth, which led to Raqqa’s eastern suburbs, was the responsibility of Halabi’s men in General Intelligence. Hundreds of police, military officers, and intelligence officers had already defected to the rebels or fled—including almost half Halabi’s subordinates. Many of them urged Halabi to join the revolution, but he stayed in his post.
On March 2nd, rebels stormed into Raqqa city through Halabi’s checkpoints, where they encountered no meaningful resistance. By lunchtime, the revolutionaries had conquered their first regional capital. Locals toppled a gold-painted statue of Hafez al-Assad in Raqqa’s main roundabout, and fighters ransacked government buildings and smashed portraits of Bashar. The corpse of Jameh’s lead interrogator was thrown off a building, then dragged through the streets. Meanwhile, Islamist brigades captured the governor’s mansion and took hostage the regional head of the Baath Party and the governor of Raqqa. By the end of the week, regime intelligence officers who hadn’t escaped to a nearby military base were prisoners, defectors, or dead. Only one senior official was unaccounted for. Khaled al-Halabi had disappeared.
More than a year passed, and Raqqa’s instant collapse served as fodder for regional conspiracy. A Lebanese newspaper published rumors that Halabi might be “lying low in Mount Lebanon.” An Iranian outlet claimed that Western powers had paid him more than a hundred thousand dollars to help jihadis bring down the regime.
One day in 2014, a Syrian dissident writer and poet named Najati Tayara got an unnerving phone call. Tayara, who was almost seventy years old and living in exile in France, had been in and out of Syrian detention several times in the past decade, for criticizing Assad’s government. Now, Tayara learned, Halabi was in Paris, and wanted to meet with him.
“I was concerned,” Tayara told me. “Before I came to France, I was in jail. And now here is an intelligence officer—he came here, he’s asking for me.”
Halabi had detained Tayara twice in the mid-two-thousands, when he was stationed in Homs, in central Syria. Tayara was part of a circle of dissidents and intellectuals who held salons in their homes. After each arrest, he sensed that Halabi had been reluctant to take him in for questioning. “He was a cultured man—very gentle and polite with me,” Tayara recalled. “He told me, ‘I am obliged to send you to Damascus for interrogation. Excuse me—I cannot refuse the order.’ ” Halabi gave Tayara his cell-phone number, and told him to call if anyone threatened or abused him in custody. “That was how al-Halabi handled people like me—human-rights advocates and public intellectuals,” Tayara told me. “But with the Islamists? Maybe he is a different man. I cannot be a witness for how he was with others.” When Halabi reached out in Paris, Tayara agreed to meet.
Halabi told Tayara that he hadn’t seen his wife or children in more than three years. After the fall of Raqqa, his eldest daughter, who had been studying in Damascus, was forced out of school and briefly detained. In Suweida, her mother and siblings were under constant surveillance by the regime. Halabi had never publicly defected to the opposition. But, Tayara recalled, “he told me that he left Syria because he made contact with the Free Syrian Army—that he gave them the keys to Raqqa.”
According to members of the invading force, negotiations had begun weeks in advance. “To insure that he wasn’t manipulating us, we asked him to do things in the city that made it easier for protesters and revolutionaries,” a rebel-affiliated activist recalled, in a recent phone call from Raqqa. “I was wanted by his security branch, but he shelved the arrest warrant, so that I could move freely.”
A few days before the attack, a commander from a powerful Islamist brigade reached out to Halabi. He promised to arrange Halabi’s escape, and to spare the lives of his subordinates, if the rebels could enter Raqqa from the city’s eastern suburbs. On the eve of the attack, armed rebels smuggled Halabi to Tabqa, a town by the Euphrates Dam. They handed him off to another brigade, which took him to a safe house near the Turkish border, owned by a local tribal leader, Abdul Hamid al-Nasser. “Some of the Free Syrian Army members wanted to arrest him, but, since my father was a revered local figure, no one could do anything,” Nasser’s son Mohammed recalled. The next morning, Nasser drove Halabi to the Turkish border. He crossed on foot, while officers from the other intelligence branches were slaughtered at their posts.
The Turkish border areas were filled with refugees, jihadi recruits, and spies. Halabi remained in touch with the Islamist commander, but he was never at ease in Turkey. Through intermediaries, he contacted Walid Joumblatt, a Lebanese politician and former warlord who is the de-facto leader of the Druze community. In the nineteenth century, Joumblatt’s great-great-great-grandfather Bashir led an exodus of persecuted Druze, including Halabi’s ancestors, out of Aleppo Province. (The Arabic name for Aleppo is Halab.) Now Halabi asked if he could seek refuge in Lebanon. But Joumblatt relayed that Halabi would never get there—that Hezbollah, which had sent fighters into Syria to support the regime, had a controlling presence at the Beirut airport. Instead, Halabi later recalled, “he advised me to go to Jordan.”
The journey was impossible by land. So, in May, 2013, Joumblatt sent an emissary to Istanbul, who escorted Halabi onto a plane. Halabi had no passport—only a Syrian military I.D. But, in Amman, Jordan’s capital, Joumblatt’s contacts escorted Halabi through immigration. “It was Walid Joumblatt who coördinated everything with the Turks and the Jordanians,” Halabi later said. “I do not know how he did it.”
Joumblatt’s men arranged for Halabi to meet with other Druze officers, Syrian defectors, and Jordanian intelligence, to support the revolution. (Joumblatt’s father was assassinated in 1977, and he has always believed that Hafez al-Assad ordered the hit.) But most of the Druze came to suspect that Halabi was still working for the regime. “We discovered that he had played a very nasty role in Raqqa,” Joumblatt told me. “We think he did his best to show the regime the weaknesses of the Raqqa resistance,” and flipped only in the final moments, to save his own skin. Joumblatt and his followers severed all contact with Halabi. “And now I don’t know where he is,” Joumblatt said.
Later in 2013, having been turned away by his fellow-Druze, Halabi walked into the French Embassy in Amman. He presented himself as a reluctant intelligence chief whose political and cultural tastes aligned with those of the French. “I like alcohol and secularism,” he later said. “France. Food. Napoleon.” He added that since the beginning of the Syrian war he had been “convinced that this regime will not last—that anyone who talks about longevity is a moron.” By this point, even the top general responsible for preventing defections had himself defected. After decades of service to the regime, “I decided not to tie my fate to it,” Halabi said.
The French government had spent more than a year debriefing high-ranking Syrian military and intelligence defectors—partly in anticipation of Assad’s losing the war, partly to facilitate that outcome. A hundred years ago, France occupied Syria and Lebanon, as part of a post-Ottoman mandate. Now it set out to make deals with anyone it considered acceptable to lead in a post-Assad era—an era that looked increasingly likely. At one point in 2012, there was gunfire so close to Assad’s residence that he and his family reportedly fled to Latakia, an Alawite stronghold on the Syrian coast. “If we did not want a collapse of the regime—perhaps as happened in Iraq, with dramatic consequences after the U.S. intervention—then we had to find a solution that blended the moderate resistance with elements of the regime who were not heavily compromised,” the French foreign minister Laurent Fabius told Sam Dagher, for his book “Assad or We Burn the Country,” from 2019. Assad, meanwhile, eliminated several possible candidates to succeed him—including, it seems, his brother-in-law Assef Shawkat, who was in touch with French officials before dying in a bombing that was widely considered an inside job.
Halabi trod a careful line. “If the regime hadn’t killed people—if I wasn’t going to get my hands dirty with blood—it is possible that I would not have left,” he told the French. “That’s why the extremist opposition hates me. And the regime considers me a traitor, because I didn’t kill with them.” As long as his family was still in Suweida, he said, “I am caught between these two fires.”
After months of dealing with Embassy officials, Halabi was introduced to a man whom he knew only as Julien. “As soon as I saw him, I understood that he was from the intelligence service, because I am in the business,” Halabi later said. Julien apparently dangled the possibility of a relationship with French intelligence, but Halabi refused to share his insights for free. “I am not a child, I am an intelligence officer,” he said. He told Julien that he would consider helping the French only if he were first brought to Paris and granted political asylum, and if his family were smuggled out of Suweida.
In February, 2014, the French Embassy in Amman issued Halabi a single-use travel document and a visa. He landed in Paris on February 27th, according to the entry stamp, and checked into a hotel. Then began an “intelligence game,” as Halabi put it. “I needed money. They wanted to pressure me, to make me needy.”
According to Halabi, Julien was aware that he had only five hundred euros and a thousand dollars. Someone was supposed to meet him at the hotel within two days of arrival, to take care of the bill, help him apply for asylum and housing, and start debriefing him. But nobody came. After two weeks, Halabi ran out of cash. Desperate, he reached out to a Druze financier in Paris who had connections to spies in the Middle East. After a cash handoff, a French intelligence officer turned up at Halabi’s door.
“They didn’t like the fact that I called on some friends,” Halabi recalled. The intelligence officer, who introduced herself as Mme. Hélène, cited the Druze connection as evidence that Halabi was associated with another foreign intelligence agency. She added that it would be useless for him to apply for asylum. Halabi never saw her again.
After ninety days, Halabi’s visa expired, and he applied for asylum anyway. “They brought me here and abandoned me,” Halabi complained to the asylum officer, of his experience with French intelligence. “If they were professional, they would try to win me over.”
Halabi declined to speak with me. But his French asylum interview—which lasted for more than four hours, and was conducted by someone with deep knowledge of Syrian affairs—offers a glimpse into his character, background, priorities, and state of mind. “I’ve been cheated—it doesn’t go with French ethics,” Halabi insisted, in the interview. “They could do this to a little soldier, but not to a general like me.”
“Ethics and intelligence services—they’re not the same thing,” the asylum officer replied.
“I am sure they will intervene,” Halabi said. “I know that I deserve a ten-year residency document—ask your conscience.”
“If they intervene, they intervene, but we will not contact them,” the officer said. “We will make our own decision.”
“Question your conscience! No one is more threatened than me in Syria.”
“We will do our due diligence,” the asylum officer continued. “As you can imagine, in light of your profession, we will have to think about it for a while. We can’t make a decision today.”
By the end of 2015, nearly a million Syrians had crossed into Europe, fleeing the conflict. Across the Continent, survivors of detention and torture began spotting their former tormentors in grocery stores and asylum centers. The exodus had forced victims and perpetrators into the same choke points—Greek coastlines, Balkan roads, Central European bus depots. Local European police agencies were inundated with reports that they had no capacity to pursue.
One day that fall, a Canadian war-crimes investigator named Bill Wiley led me to a padlocked door in a basement in Western Europe. Inside was a large room containing a dehumidifier, metal shelving, and cardboard boxes stacked floor to ceiling. The boxes held more than six hundred thousand Syrian government documents, mostly taken from security-intelligence facilities that had been overrun by rebel groups. Using these documents, Wiley’s group, an N.G.O. called the Commission for International Justice and Accountability, had reconstructed much of the Syrian chain of command.
Wiley and his colleagues formed the CIJA in response to what they perceived as major deficiencies in the international justice system. Because Assad’s government had not ratified the founding document of the International Criminal Court, the court could not open an investigation into its crimes. Only the U.N. Security Council could rectify this, and the governments of Russia and China have blocked efforts to do so. It was the ultimate symbol of international failure: there was no clear path to prosecuting the most well-documented campaign of war crimes and crimes against humanity since the Holocaust.
International criminal trials often focus on authority, duty, chain of command. The force of the enterprise is in deterrence—in making plain that there are inflexible standards for conduct in war. A lack of enthusiasm does not amount to a defense. What matters is what is done—not how an officer felt about doing it. Under a mode of liability known as “command responsibility,” a senior officer, for example, can be prosecuted for failing to prevent or punish widespread, systematic criminality among his subordinates.
This distinction was apparently lost on Halabi, who seems to have thought of “law” only as whatever he was instructed to do. “When you receive an order, as a soldier, you have to carry it out,” Halabi told the French asylum officer. He didn’t appear to connect his obedience to what followed: more than two hundred members of the Raqqa branch of the General Intelligence Directorate would receive his order, and have to implement it. “I never did anything illegal in Syria, except helping people,” he said. “If there is an international tribunal for these people”—Assad and his deputies—“I will be the first to show up.”
The CIJA had prepared a four-hundred-page legal brief that established the criminal culpability of Assad and about a dozen of his top security officials. The brief links the systematic torture and murder of tens of thousands of Syrian detainees to orders that were drafted by the country’s highest-level security committee, approved by Assad, and sent down parallel chains of command. The CIJA’s documents contain hundreds of thousands, if not millions of names—arrestees and their interrogators, Baathist informants, the heads of each security agency—and have served as the basis for economic sanctions targeting regime officials. In recent years, the CIJA has become a source of Syrian-regime documents for civil and criminal cases all over the world. A tip from one of its investigators in ISIS territory prevented a terrorist attack in Australia. Meanwhile, the group has fielded requests from European law-enforcement agencies concerning more than two thousand Syrians. According to Stephen Rapp, a former international prosecutor who served as the United States Ambassador-at-Large for War Crimes Issues and is now the chair of the CIJA’s board of directors, the evidence in the CIJA’s possession is more comprehensive than that which was presented at the Nuremberg trials.
Assad and his deputies might never set foot in a jurisdiction where they will be charged. But, in 2015, Chris Engels, the CIJA’s head of operations, received a tip from an investigator in Syria that Khaled al-Halabi had slipped into Europe. At first, Engels hoped to interview him as a defector, for the Assad brief. But, as CIJA analysts began building a dossier on Halabi—drawing on internal regime documents, and also on testimony from his subordinates—Engels began to think of Halabi as a possible target for prosecution instead.
“How many arrests were you ordered to make?” the French asylum officer had asked Halabi.
“I don’t remember—in Suweida, none.”
“And in Raqqa?”
“Four or five.”
By the middle of 2012, according to the CIJA’s investigation, Halabi’s branch of the directorate was arresting some fifteen people a day. Detainees were stripped to their underwear and put in filthy, overcrowded cells, where they suffered from hunger, disease, and infection. The branch converted storage units in the basement into individual cells that ultimately held ten or more people.
“Detainees would be taken into the interrogation office, and typically soaked in cold water, and then placed into a large spare tire,” one of Halabi’s former subordinates said. “Then they were rolled onto their backs and beaten with electrical wires, fan belts, sticks, or batons.” Survivors recalled receiving electric shocks, and being hung from the walls or ceiling by their wrists. Screams could be heard throughout the three-story building. After interrogations, detainees were routinely forced to sign or place their fingerprints on documents that they had not been permitted to read.
The CIJA saw no evidence of the restrained treatment that Tayara had described. The care that Halabi had shown him before the revolution was far from the brutality later endured by other human-rights activists and intellectuals.
Many of the worst abuses were carried out by Halabi’s head of investigations and his chief of staff, the two Alawites he was apparently afraid of. These men and others regularly used the threat of rape, or rape itself, during interrogations. Defectors said that Halabi, whose office shared a wall with the interrogation room, was “fully aware” of what was going on. “Nobody would do anything without his knowledge,” a former officer at the branch recalled. “Often, he would enter and watch the torturing.” As the head of the branch, Halabi signed each order to transfer a detainee, for further interrogation, to Damascus, where thousands of people have been tortured to death.
A few weeks after the fall of Raqqa, Nadim Houry, who was then the lead Syria analyst for Human Rights Watch, travelled to the city. He had been studying the structures and abuses of Syria’s intelligence services since 2006. Now he made his way to Halabi’s ransacked branch.
“You go in, and on the first floor it almost looked like a regular Syrian bureaucratic building—offices, files scattered about, the same outdated furniture,” Houry told me. “Then you go down the stairs. You see the cells. I’d spent years documenting how they’d cram people into solitary-confinement cells. And now it sort of materialized in front of my eyes.” In a room near Halabi’s office, he found a bsat al-reeh, a large wooden torture device similar to a crucifix but with a hinge in the middle, used to bend people’s backs, sometimes until they broke.
“This is what the Syrian regime is, at its core,” Houry said. “It is a modern bureaucracy, with plenty of presentable people in it, but it is based on torture and death.”
Halabi and Tayara met two or three times in Paris. The encounters were cordial, if fraught; Tayara never fully understood Halabi’s motivation for reaching out to him. Perhaps it was loneliness, he said, or a desire for forgiveness.
The poet and the spy sipped black coffee with sugar by the Seine. They strolled through the city’s gardens, discussing the challenges of living in exile as older men. Their lives as opponents felt distant. Both were broke and alone, unable to master the local language, displaced in a land of safety that felt indifferent to everything they cared about and everyone they loved. Tayara lived in a tiny studio; Halabi told his former captive that he was staying in the spare room of an Algerian who lived in the suburbs. France was deeply involved in Syrian affairs. But in France famous Syrians from every faction drifted about in anonymity, longing to return home, agonizing over events that, to the people around them—in buses, Métro cars, parks, and cafés—weren’t so much seen as irrelevant as simply not noticed at all.
I asked Tayara whether Halabi had ever requested his help. “No, no, no,” he said. “It was just to inquire about my health, my family. It was all very lovely. He didn’t need anything from me.”
But it appears as though Halabi was grooming a witness—that he planned for the French authorities to contact Tayara, and was taking advantage of his target’s solitude and nostalgia. When the French asylum officer asked about Halabi’s role in repressive measures against protesters, he brought up Tayara.
“There is a person here in France,” Halabi said.
“Whom you arrested?”
“He is a friend,” Halabi said. “A famous member of the opposition.”
He launched into the story of Tayara’s first arrest. “He knew full well that the order came from on high—that I had nothing to do with it,” Halabi said. “I even bought him a pair of pajamas, with my own money, because I liked him. I prohibited my men from blindfolding and handcuffing him—well, to blindfold him only when he was entering national-security facilities. He went, he came back, we stayed friends. . . . You can ask him.”
“I understand that you are minimizing your role a little bit,” the French officer said. “You say that you were against violence, torture, and deaths, but you continued to be chief of intelligence for a regime that was known for its repression. Why did you stay working for this regime for so long?”
Halabi didn’t wait for a decision on his asylum status; after several months without news, he opted to once again vanish. Before leaving Paris, he mentioned to Tayara that, according to a friend, Austria was a more welcoming place for refugees. It was a strange assertion; Austria’s increasingly right-wing government was taking the opposite stance. “We try to get rid of asylum seekers from the moment they touch our soil,” Stephanie Krisper, a centrist Austrian parliamentarian, who is appalled by this approach, told me.
I met Tayara in Paris, on a rainy November afternoon in 2019; he and Halabi hadn’t spoken in years. I asked for help contacting Halabi, but Tayara gently declined. “I am an old man,” he said. “I look for peace. I look for beauty, for poetry. I like watching ballet! This mystery—it is very hard. I don’t want to continue with it.” He sighed, and adjusted his scarf, which partly obscured his face. “I am afraid to continue investigations about him,” he said. “There are so many of them—so many Syrian officers here.”
At the CIJA headquarters, Engels and Wiley had concluded that there was no more important target within reach of European authorities than Khaled al-Halabi: as a brigadier general and the head of a regional intelligence branch, he was the highest-ranking Syrian war criminal known to be on the Continent.
The CIJA formed a tracking team to find him and other targets: investigators worked sources and defectors, analysts pored over captured documents, a cyber unit hunted for digital traces. Before long, the tracking team had Halabi’s social-media accounts. On Facebook, he went by Achilles; on Skype, he was Abu Kotaiba, meaning “Father of Kotaiba”—Halabi’s son. Online, Halabi claimed to live in Argentina. But Skype metadata revealed that he had told Tayara the truth about his plans; he consistently logged in from a cell phone tied to an I.P. address in Vienna.
From time to time, CIJA investigators receive tips about ISIS members in Europe, and Wiley immediately alerts the local authorities. But, when it comes to former Syrian military and intelligence officers, who pose less of an immediate threat, his organization is more judicious. “We don’t go to the domestic authorities and say, ‘Yeah, we hear So-and-So is in your country,’ ” Wiley said. “If these guys are still loyal to the regime, they might be a threat to other Syrians in the diaspora in Europe, but they’re not going to be blowing up or stabbing people in the shopping district.” Besides, a leaked notification could trigger someone like Halabi to go underground.
By January, 2016, the CIJA’s Halabi dossier was complete. For four months, the location of his Skype log-ins had not changed. Stephen Rapp requested a meeting with the Austrian Justice Ministry. A reply came back on official letterhead, with a date from the wrong year: “Dear Mr. Rapp! I am glad to invite you and Mr. Engels to the Austrian Federal Ministry of Justice.” It continued, “All expenses of the delegation, including interpretation and/or translation, accommodation, transportation, meals, guides and insurance during your stay in Austria will be borne by your side.”
“We hadn’t worked with the Austrians before—they’re not very active in the international war-crimes space,” Engels told me. “But normally this is a very coöperative process. And fast.”
On the morning of January 29, 2016, Rapp and Engels walked into Room 410 at the Austrian Ministry of Justice. Five officials awaited them—a judge, a senior administrator, the deputy head of the International Crimes Division, and two men who did not give their names. After Engels and Rapp laid out the CIJA’s evidence, one of the officials searched a government database and affirmed that a Khaled al-Halabi was registered to an address in Vienna.
The meeting drew to a close. Engels and Rapp handed over the Halabi dossier. Once they left the room, the two unnamed men—who worked for the B.V.T., Austria’s civilian security-intelligence agency—were asked to look into whether the man described by the CIJA was the man at the Vienna address. They agreed to do so, giving no indication that they had ever heard of Halabi before that morning. In fact, two weeks earlier, one of them, an intelligence officer named Oliver Lang, had taken Halabi shopping for storage drawers at Ikea, and had written the delivery address using his operational cover name.
Lang kept the receipt, and later filed it for expenses. It also had Halabi’s signature, which he hadn’t modified since his days of signing arrest warrants in Raqqa. The money for the drawers had come in the form of a cash drop from Halabi’s secret longtime handlers: the Israeli intelligence services.
After the Second World War, the Austrian government maintained that its people were the Nazis’ first victims, instead of their enthusiastic backers. Schoolchildren were not taught about the Holocaust, and, for almost half a century, Jews who returned to Vienna were unable to recover expropriated property. In 1975, Austria halted all prosecutions of former Nazis. Ten years later, the Times reported that the country had “abandoned any serious attempt to arrest Mr. Brunner,” the Nazi then living in Damascus, who had deported more than a hundred and twenty-five thousand people to concentration and extermination camps. From his apartment on Rue Haddad, Brunner sent money to his wife and daughter in Vienna, where he had led the office that rid the city of its Jewish population. The Austrian chancellor, in a dismissive conversation with Nazi hunters, seemed to accept the Syrian government’s official position—that it had no idea where Brunner was.
In 1986, it emerged that Austria’s best-known diplomat, Kurt Waldheim—who had served for most of the previous decade as the Secretary-General of the United Nations—had been a Nazi military-intelligence officer during the war. At first, Waldheim, who was running for President of Austria, denied the allegation. But, as more information came out, he began to defend himself as a “decent soldier,” and claimed that the true “scandal” was the effort to dredge up the past. Other politicians came to his defense. “As long as it cannot be proved that he personally strangled six Jews, there is no problem,” the head of Waldheim’s party told a French magazine. Waldheim won the election, and served until 1992. The U.S. Department of Justice concluded that he had taken part in numerous Nazi war crimes, including the transfer of civilians for slave labor, executions of civilians and prisoners of war, and mass deportations to concentration and extermination camps. For the rest of his term, Waldheim was welcome only in some Arab countries and at the Vatican.
It took until after Waldheim’s Presidency for the Austrian government to begin acknowledging decades-old crimes. And only last year did Austria begin offering citizenship to descendants of victims of Nazi persecution. A shadow still hangs over the country. “The Austrians, in European war-crimes circles, have a reputation for being particularly fucking useless,” said Bill Wiley, whose first war-crimes investigation, in the nineties, was of an Austrian Nazi who had escaped to Canada. “You just never know what is driven by incompetence and laziness and disinterest, and what’s driven by venality.”
In recent years, Austria has been cut out of European intelligence-sharing agreements, including the Club de Berne—an informal intelligence network that involves most European nations, the U.K., the U.S., and Israel. (Austria withdrew after the Club’s secret review of the B.V.T.’s cyber-infrastructure, building-security, and counter-proliferation measures—all of which it found to be abysmal—was leaked to the Austrian press.) Senior Austrian intelligence officers have been accused of spying for Russia and Iran, and also of smuggling a high-profile fugitive out of Austria on a private plane. An Iranian spy, who was operating under diplomatic cover in Vienna and was listed in a B.V.T. document as a “possible target for recruitment,” was convicted of planning a terrorist attack on a convention in France; Belgian prosecutors later determined that he’d smuggled explosives through the Vienna airport, in a diplomatic pouch. “The Austrians are not considered to have a particularly good service,” a retired senior C.I.A. officer told me. The general view within Western European intelligence agencies is that what is shared with Vienna soon makes its way to Moscow—a concern that was amplified when Vladimir Putin danced with Austria’s foreign minister at her wedding, in 2018.
But in March of 2015, the Mossad invited the B.V.T. leadership to participate in an operation that sounded meaningful: an Israeli intelligence asset was in need of Austrian assistance. Three months had passed since Halabi’s French asylum interview, and he was simultaneously hiding and overexposed, searching for a way out of the country.
The deputy director of the B.V.T. travelled to Tel Aviv. According to a top-secret B.V.T. memo, the Israelis said that, owing to Halabi’s “cultural origins,” he was poised to “assume an important role in the Syrian state structure after the fall of the Assad regime.” Halabi wouldn’t be working for the B.V.T., but the Israelis promised to share relevant information with the agency from time to time. All the Austrians had to do was bring Halabi to Vienna and help him set up his life.
Bernhard Pircher, the head of the B.V.T.’s intelligence unit, created a file with a code name for Halabi: White Milk. He assigned the case to two officers, Oliver Lang and Martin Filipovits. Soon afterward, they received orders to go to Paris, meet with French counterintelligence, and return to Vienna the next day, with Halabi. There were no obvious challenges. The Mossad had cleared the exfiltration with French intelligence, according to a B.V.T. document, and Israeli operatives were in “constant contact” with Halabi in Paris.
Lang and Filipovits set off at dawn on May 11th, and boarded a flight to Charles de Gaulle—Row 6, aisle seats C and D, billed to the Mossad. When they landed, they went by Métro to the headquarters of France’s domestic-intelligence agency, the D.G.S.I. There, according to Lang’s official account of the meeting, they sat down with the deputy head of counterintelligence, a Syria specialist, and an interpreter. Also present were three representatives of the Mossad, including the Paris station chief and Halabi’s local handler.
The Austrian and Israeli officers asked permission to fly Halabi out of France on a commercial plane, a request that they assumed was a formality. But the D.G.S.I. refused. Halabi had applied for asylum, a French officer said, and domestic law stipulates that asylum seekers cannot travel beyond French borders until a decision has been made. The Austrians and the Israelis proposed that Halabi retract his French asylum request, but the D.G.S.I. replied that, in that case, Halabi would be in France illegally. After the meeting, according to Lang’s notes, the Israelis told Lang that the French had changed their position since learning that “the B.V.T. is also involved.”
Lang suggested that the Israelis smuggle Halabi out of France in a diplomatic vehicle, through Switzerland or Germany. The B.V.T. would wait at the Austrian border and escort them to Vienna. “The proposal was well received,” he wrote. But the Mossad team would first have to check with headquarters, in Tel Aviv, “as this approach could have a lasting impact on relations” between Israeli and French intelligence agencies.
In the early twenty-tens, the Mossad had made something of a habit of operating in Paris without French permission. The agency, which is not subject to Israel’s legal framework, and answers only to the Prime Minister, had reportedly lured French intelligence officers into inappropriate relationships; attempted to sell compromised communications equipment, through a front company, to the French national police and the domestic intelligence service; and used a Paris hotel room as a staging ground for a kill operation in Dubai. Members of the kill team entered and exited the United Arab Emirates on false passports that used the identities of real French citizens—an incident that a judicial-police chief in Paris later described to Le Monde as “an unacceptable attack on our sovereignty.”
On June 2nd, Lang, Filipovits, and Pircher met with officers from the Mossad. “It was agreed that the ‘package’ would be delivered” in eleven days, Lang wrote. The Israelis may have quietly worked out an agreement with French intelligence, to avoid friction, but the Austrians never learned of any such arrangement; as far as they were concerned, the D.G.S.I. would remain in the dark.
Unlike France, Israel did not overtly seek to topple Assad’s regime. Its operations in Syria were centered on matters in which it perceived a direct threat: Iranian personnel, weapons transfers, and support for Hezbollah. Since 2013, Israeli warplanes have carried out hundreds of bombings on Iran-linked targets in Syria. The Syrian government rarely objects; to acknowledge the strikes would be to admit that it is powerless to prevent them. It is unlikely that Halabi, from his hiding places in Europe, was in any way useful to Israeli intelligence.
Two days before Halabi’s extraction, Lang’s security clearance was upgraded to Top Secret. Outside of the B.V.T. leadership, only he and Filipovits knew about the operation. Lang still believed that Halabi had access to information that was of “immense importance” to the Austrian state. “Miracles happen,” Lang wrote to Pircher.
“Today is just like the 24th of December,” Pircher replied.
“Well then . . . MERRY CHRISTMAS.”
On June 13th, Lang waited at the Walserberg crossing, at the border with Germany, for the Israelis to arrive. It is unclear whether the German government was aware that the Mossad was moving a Syrian general out of France and through its territory in a diplomatic car. Lang booked hotel rooms in Salzburg for himself, the Israelis, and the man he would start referring to as White Milk in his reports. Once again, the Mossad took care of the bill.
“To betray, you must first belong,” Kim Philby, a British spy who defected to the Soviet Union, said, in 1967. “I never belonged.”
In the past two years, I have discussed Halabi’s case with spies, politicians, activists, defectors, victims, lawyers, and criminal investigators in six countries, and have reviewed thousands of pages of classified and confidential documents in Arabic, French, English, and German. The process has been beset with false leads, misinformation, recycled rumors, and unanswerable questions—a central one of which is the exact timing and nature of Halabi’s recruitment by Israeli intelligence. Nobody had a clear explanation, or could say what he contributed to Israeli interests. But, slowly, a picture began to emerge.
A leaked B.V.T. memo describes Israel, in its exfiltration of Halabi from Paris, as being “committed to its agents who have already completed their tasks.” This resolved the matter of whether he had been recruited in Europe. “No one really wants defectors,” the retired senior C.I.A. officer, who has decades of experience in the Middle East, told me. “What you really want is an agent in place.” In moving Halabi to Vienna, the Israelis were fulfilling a debt to a longtime source. So how did the relationship begin?
Halabi graduated from the Syrian military academy in Homs in 1984, when he was twenty-one. Sixteen years later, he earned a law degree in Damascus—a qualification that resulted in his being seconded to the General Intelligence Directorate. “I did not choose to work in the security service—it was a military order,” he told the French asylum representative. “I was a brilliant military officer. I was angry to have been transferred to the intelligence service.” He served the directorate in Damascus for four years; in 2005, he became a regional director—first in Suweida, then in Homs, in Tartous, and in Raqqa.
In asylum interviews, Halabi glossed over the precise nature of his first job at the directorate in Damascus, and his interrogators were focussed on what he had done in his final post. But, in a top-secret meeting, the Israelis blundered. According to the B.V.T.’s meeting notes, a Mossad officer said that Halabi couldn’t have been involved in war crimes, because he was the “head of ‘Branch 300,’ in Raqqa,” which was “exclusively responsible” for thwarting the activities of foreign intelligence services.
The B.V.T. didn’t register the mistake: there is no Branch 300 in Raqqa—Halabi’s branch was 335. And yet the Mossad operative had accurately described the counterintelligence duties of the real Branch 300, which is in Damascus.
I began searching for references to Branch 300 and counterintelligence in various Halabi dossiers and leaks. A defector had told the CIJA that Halabi might have served at Branch 300 but didn’t specify when. By now, there were hundreds of pages of government documents scattered on my floor. One day, I revisited a scan of Halabi’s handwritten asylum claim from France, from the summer of 2014. There it was, in a description of his work history, his first job at the directorate: “I served in Damascus (counterintelligence service).”
By Halabi’s own account of his life, he would have been a classic target: approaching middle age, feeling as if his military prowess had gone unappreciated; aggrieved at the notion that, no matter how well he served, in a state run by sectarian Alawite élites he would never attain recognition or power. Even after his promotion to regional director, “as a member of the Druze minority, I was marginalized,” Halabi told the French asylum interviewer. He seems to think of himself as Druze first and Syrian second. The Druze are not especially committed to the politics of any country; they simply make pragmatic arrangements in order to survive.
Syria’s counterintelligence branch is incredibly difficult to penetrate from the outside. But the rest of the Syrian defense apparatus is not. In the decades before the revolution, “everyone was spying for somebody—if not the Israelis, then us and the Jordanians,” a former member of the U.S. intelligence community told me. “The entire Syrian military—they were just a criminal enterprise, a mafia. They had no loyalty besides, perhaps, the really, really small inner circle. It was hard to work, because they were also spying on each other. But there were not a lot of secrets.”
Halabi appears to have stayed in Syria for most, if not all, of his career. For this reason, among others, it is more likely that his recruitment was the work of Israeli military intelligence than that of the Mossad. A secretive military-intelligence element known as Unit 504 recruits and handles sources in neighboring areas of conflict and tensions, including Syria, and it routinely targets promising young military officers. If Unit 504 got to Halabi when he was a soldier, his appointment to Branch 300 would have been an extraordinary intelligence coup.
Halabi may not have known for some time that he was working for Israel; its spies routinely pose as foreigners from other countries, especially during operations in the Middle East. Or perhaps he was given a narrow assignment regarding a shared interest. Halabi was disgusted by Iran’s growing influence over Syria, and has described Assad as an “Iranian puppet” who is “not fit to govern a country.”
The extent of Halabi’s service for Israel is unknown. But I have found no evidence of Israeli involvement in his escape from Raqqa to Turkey, or in his efforts to persuade the French Embassy in Jordan to send him to France—where his contact with the Druze financier was exposed. Something similar caught Walid Joumblatt’s attention—his men have detected an unusual flow of cash and communications into the Syrian Druze community via Paris. “This money was not coming from here,” he told me, from his elegant stone palace, in Mt. Lebanon. It was coming from Israel. “We think this Halabi is working with our other nasty neighbors, the Israelis.”
With Halabi abandoned in Paris, it fell to the Mossad to help an Israeli asset. (Unit 504 is not known to operate in Europe.) According to a B.V.T. memo, the Mossad created a “phased plan” for Halabi—exfiltration to Austria, plus an initial stipend of several thousand euros a month. The long-term goal was for Halabi to become “financially self-sustainable.” But he wasn’t, as the memo put it, “out in the cold.”
Oliver Lang was also a counterintelligence officer, and his specialty at the B.V.T. was Arab affairs. But he had never learned Arabic, so Pircher, his boss, brought in another officer, Ralph Pöchhacker, who had claimed linguistic proficiency. When Lang introduced him to Halabi, however, the two men couldn’t communicate. “Oh, well, you can forget about Ralph,” Lang informed Pircher. “Ralph more or less doesn’t understand his dialect.”
Pircher is short, with long blond hair, and a frenetic social energy. (Behind his back, people call him Rumpelstiltskin.) Before he became the head of the B.V.T.’s intelligence unit, through his political party, in 2010, he had little understanding of policing or intelligence.
Two days after Halabi crossed into Austria, Lang paid an interpreter to accompany him and Halabi to an interview at an asylum center in Traiskirchen, thirty minutes south of Vienna. In the preceding weeks, Filipovits had examined legal options for Halabi’s residency, and determined that asylum came with a key advantage: any government officials involved in the process would be “subject to a comprehensive duty of confidentiality.”
In Traiskirchen, Lang made sure that Halabi was “isolated, and not seen by other asylum seekers,” Natascha Thallmayer, the asylum officer who conducted the interview, later said. “I was not given a reason for this.” Lang never introduced himself; although his presence is omitted from the record, he sat in on the interview. “Why and according to which legal basis the B.V.T. official took part, I can no longer say,” Thallmayer said. “He just stayed there.”
Halabi lied to Thallmayer about his entry into Austria. A friend in Paris “bought me a train ticket,” he said, and put him on a train to Vienna—by which route, exactly, he didn’t know. The story was clearly absurd; the B.V.T. had arranged the interview with the asylum office long before Halabi’s supposedly spontaneous arrival by train. Nevertheless, Thallmayer asked no follow-up questions. “The special interest of the B.V.T. was obvious,” she said.
At the beginning of Operation White Milk, Pircher had noted in his records that Halabi “must leave France” but faced “no danger.” Now Lang fabricated a mortal risk. “The situation in France is such that there are repeated, sometimes violent clashes between regime supporters and opponents, some of which result in serious injuries and deaths,” he wrote. He added that, owing to Halabi’s “knowledge of top Syrian state secrets, it must be assumed that, if Al-Halabi is captured by the various Syrian intelligence services, he will be liquidated.” The B.V.T. submitted Lang’s memos to the asylum agency, whose director, Wolfgang Taucher, ordered that Halabi’s file be placed “under lock and key.”
The B.V.T. had no safe houses or operational black budgets, so it rented Halabi an apartment from Pircher’s father-in-law. For the next six months, Lang carried out menial tasks on behalf of the Mossad. “Dear Bernhard! Please remember to call your father-in-law about the apartment!” he wrote to Pircher. “Dear Bernhard! Please be so kind as to remember the letter regarding the registration block!”
“God you are annoying,” Pircher replied.
“Dear Bernhard!” Lang wrote, in early July. He didn’t like the fact that, for all these petty tasks, he had to use his real name. “It would certainly not be bad to be equipped with a cover name,” he wrote. “What do you think?” By the end of the month, Lang was introducing himself around the city—at Ikea, the bank, the post office, Bob & Ben’s Electronic Installation Services—as Alexander Lamberg.
The Israelis gave Lang about five thousand euros a month for Halabi’s accounts, passed through the Mossad’s Vienna station. Lang kept meticulous records, sometimes even noting the names of Israeli officers he met. Halabi found Pircher’s father-in-law’s apartment too small, so, after a few months, Lang started searching for another place. “Dear Bernhard!” Lang wrote, in July, 2015. “If we are successful, the monthly rent we agreed on with our friends will of course increase slightly. However, my opinion is that they will just have to live with it.”
On October 7th, Halabi provided Lang with intelligence that a possible ISIS fighter had applied for asylum in Austria. Lang filed a report, citing “a reliable source,” and sent it to Pircher, who passed it along to the terrorism unit. An officer there was underwhelmed by the tip. “Perhaps the source handler could talk to us,” he replied. The same information was all over Facebook and the news.
The next week, Lang and Filipovits went to a meeting in Tel Aviv. When they returned, Lang accompanied Halabi to a second asylum interview. Since Halabi had already applied for asylum in France, the officer asked his permission to contact the French government. “I am afraid for my life, and therefore I do not agree,” Halabi said, according to a copy of the transcript.
“There are also many Syrians in Austria,” the interviewer noted. “Are you not afraid here?”
“The number of Syrians in Austria does not come close to that of France, so it is easy for me to stay away from them here,” Halabi said. “And, above all, from Arabs. I stay away from all of these people.”
In fact, in both countries, Halabi was in touch with a group of Syrians who were trying to set up civil-society projects in rebel-held territory. But they suspected that he was gathering intelligence on their members. “All the other defectors and officers knew not to ask a lot of questions, to avoid suspicion among ourselves,” a member of the group told me. “But Halabi was the opposite. He was always asking questions. ‘How many people are attending the meeting?’ ‘Where is the meeting?’ ‘Can I have everyone’s names?’ ‘Everyone’s phone numbers?’ ” They cut him out of the flow of information. The member continued, “One possibility is that he simply could not leave his intelligence mentality behind. The other—which we began to suspect more and more, over time—is that he still had connections to the regime.”
In Vienna, Halabi hosted regime-affiliated members of the Syrian diaspora in his flat. According to someone who attended one of these events, several Syrians in his orbit flaunted their connections to foreign intelligence services, and the life style that came with them. The source, a well-connected Syrian exile, independently deduced Halabi’s relationship to the Israelis, and said that he believed it dated back to the previous decade and was likely narrow in scope—reporting on Iranian weapons shipments, for example, or on matters related to Hezbollah.
The moment Halabi left Syria, in 2013, he became “the weakest, the least relevant in the context of the war,” the man said. “Most people who are linked to foreign agencies participated—and in some cases continue to participate—in far worse crimes.” He added, “They have total access to Russia and the West, with all the money they need, all the diplomatic protections.” In the search for intelligence, not every useful person is a good one—and most of the good ones aren’t useful.
On December 2, 2015, Austria granted Halabi asylum. Within days, he was issued a five-year passport. Lang helped Halabi apply for benefits from the Austrian state. The B.V.T. had supported his application, noting that it had “no information” that he had ever “been involved in war crimes or other criminal acts in Syria.”
Seven weeks later, the Austrian Justice Ministry alerted the B.V.T. that the CIJA had identified a high-ranking Syrian war criminal in Austria. The Justice officials had never heard of Halabi, and were unaware that a member of their intelligence service was, at the behest of a foreign agency, tending to his every need. In Austria, war crimes fall under the investigative purview of the B.V.T.’s extremism unit. But no one in that unit was aware of Operation White Milk, and the B.V.T. sent Lang and Pircher to the January 29th meeting with the CIJA officials instead.
The Justice Ministry kept detailed meeting minutes. At one point, Stephen Rapp, the chair of the CIJA board of directors and former international prosecutor, noted that the CIJA’s witnesses included several of Halabi’s subordinates from the intelligence branch, testifying against their former boss.
Lang wrote down only one sentence during the meeting: “Deputy of Al-Halabi is in Sweden and is a witness against Al-Halabi.” It was as if the only thing he had absorbed was the urgency of the threat. Lang and Pircher told the Justice Ministry that they would look into whether Halabi was in the country. In secret, however, they set out to gather intelligence on the CIJA’s staff and its witnesses, and to discredit the organization, under the heading “Operation Red Bull.”
Days before the meeting with the CIJA, a miscommunication between the B.V.T. and the Justice Ministry had led Pircher and Lang to believe that Rapp and Engels, the CIJA’s head of operations, were part of an official U.S. delegation. When they finally understood that the CIJA is an N.G.O., they were startled by its investigative competence, and surmised that the group’s ability to track Halabi to Vienna signalled ties to an intelligence agency. Most of the CIJA’s staffers are from Europe and the Middle East. But, since the men across the table were American, Pircher and Lang inferred that the CIJA’s case against Halabi reflected a rupture in relations between the Mossad and the C.I.A. Rapp was especially suspect, they thought, since he had previously served in government.
Lang started researching Rapp, and e-mailed his findings to Pircher and Pircher’s boss, Martin Weiss, the head of operations.
Subject: Information about Stephen RAPP
Respected Leadership! For your information, if you type Stephen Rapp in Google . . .
Lang had unearthed the same basic biographical information that he and Pircher would have known if they had been listening during the meeting—or if they had read the meeting minutes, which the Justice Ministry had already shared with them.
Subject: Information on Operation Red Bull
Dear Bernhard!
Pircher had sent Lang an article from a Vienna newspaper, which Lang now summarized for him: a thirty-one-year-old Syrian refugee named Mohamad Abdullah had been arrested in Sweden, on suspicion of participating in war crimes somewhere in Syria, sometime in the previous several years. “Swedish authorities got on Abdullah’s trail through entries and photos on the Internet. Sounds suspiciously like the CIJA’s modus operandi to me,” Lang wrote. “Assuming that there are not umpteen war-crimes trials in Sweden, Abdullah must be the alleged deputy.” (Abdullah has no apparent connection to Halabi.)
On February 15, 2016, representatives of the B.V.T. and the Mossad met to discuss the CIJA and its findings; according to a top-secret memo drafted by Weiss, the Mossad team noted that the CIJA is a “private organization without a governmental or international mandate”—nothing to worry about, in other words, since it couldn’t prosecute anyone. Courts in Europe and the U.S. have opened cases that rely on the CIJA’s evidence. But that didn’t mean Austria had to do the same.
In mid-April, Pircher instructed Lang to find the address of the CIJA’s headquarters. For security reasons, the organization tries to keep its location private; documents in its possession indicate that the Syrian regime is trying to hunt down its investigators. Lang concluded that the CIJA shared an office with The Hague Institute for Global Justice, in the Netherlands, where Rapp had a non-resident fellowship.
A few days later, Pircher and another B.V.T. officer, Monika Gaschl, set off for The Hague. Their official purpose was to attend a firearms conference. But Pircher sent Gaschl to check out The Hague Institute. “Working persons are openly visible in front of their screens,” Gaschl reported. “At lunchtime, food was brought into the building. Obviously, food was ordered.” Gaschl took at least eight photographs—wide-angle images, showing the street, the sidewalk, the entrance, and the building façade—and submitted them to Pircher, who had sent her an e-mail requesting “tourist photos from the Hague.”
But Lang had supplied the wrong address, so Gaschl spied on a random office of people waiting for lunch. The CIJA has no affiliation with The Hague Institute. It isn’t even based in the Netherlands.
Austria’s Justice Ministry agreed that the CIJA’s dossier amounted to “sufficient” ground for an investigation—as long as the B.V.T. confirmed that Khaled al-Halabi, the Vienna resident, was the man in the file. (After three weeks with no update, the judge who had attended the CIJA meeting called Lang, who informed her that the results of his investigation showed that Halabi “was, to all appearances, actually staying in Vienna.”) But, after the CIJA sent more evidence and documents, “we heard nothing,” Engels said. During the next five years, the CIJA followed up with the Austrians at least fifteen times. A Vienna prosecutor named Edgar Luschin had formally opened an investigation, but he showed little interest in it. At first, according to the CIJA, Luschin dismissed the evidence as insufficient. He later clarified that the quality of war-crimes evidence was immaterial; he simply could not proceed.
Austria has been a member of the International Criminal Court for more than twenty years. But it wasn’t until 2015 that the Austrian parliament updated the list of crimes covered by its universal-jurisdiction statute—an assertion that the duty to prosecute certain heinous crimes transcends all borders—in a way that would definitively apply to Halabi. For this reason, Luschin decided, Austria had no authority to try Halabi for war crimes or for crimes against humanity; whatever happened under his command had taken place before 2015.
“Why this is the Austrian position, I could only speculate,” Wiley, the CIJA founder, told me. Other European countries have overcome similar legal hurdles. “It could be that the Ministry of Justice, as part of the broader Austrian tradition, just couldn’t be arsed to do a war-crimes case,” he added.
In fact, Luschin’s position guaranteed that there would be no meaningful investigation—and he promised as much to the B.V.T. In December, 2016, Lang’s partner, Martin Filipovits, asked Luschin about the status of his case. But when Filipovits used the words “war criminal” in reference to Halabi, Luschin stopped him. The term “is not applicable from a legal point of view,” Luschin said. He added that he might interview Halabi, but only to ask whether he had ever personally tortured someone—not as an international war crime but as a matter of domestic law, in the manner of a violent assault. Otherwise, Luschin said, “no investigative steps are necessary in Austria, and no concrete investigative order will be issued to the B.V.T.”
A year passed. Then the French asylum agency sent a rejection letter to Halabi’s old Paris address. “The fact that he didn’t desert until two years after the beginning of the Syrian conflict, and only when it had become evident that his men were incapable of resisting the rebel advance on Raqqa, casts doubt on his supposed motivation for desertion,” the letter read. It added that the asylum agency had “serious reasons” to believe that, owing to Halabi’s “elevated responsibilities” within the regime, he was “directly implicated in repression and human rights violations.” In April, 2018, the agency sent Halabi’s file to French prosecutors, who also requested documents from the CIJA. After it became clear that Halabi was no longer in French territory, prosecutors issued a request to all European police agencies for assistance tracking him down. The alert triggered an internal crisis at the B.V.T.; it was the first time that the extremism unit, which handles war-crimes investigations, had heard Halabi’s name.
In late July, Lang was forced to brief Sybille Geissler, the head of the extremism unit, on everything that had happened in the preceding years. She informed Luschin that Halabi was still living in the Vienna apartment that Lang had rented for him. She also handed him the CIJA’s dossier, which had just been supplied to her office by the French. Luschin acted as if he were seeing it for the first time.
That week, there was a flurry of correspondence between the B.V.T. and the Mossad. Lang was desperate to get Halabi out of the apartment. On August 1st, the Mossad liaison officer called Lang to say goodbye; according to Lang’s notes, the officer left Austria the following day. Two months later, the B.V.T. formally ended Operation White Milk. During the B.V.T.’s final case discussion with the Israelis, the Mossad requested that Halabi remain in Austria.
Seven weeks later, on November 27th, B.V.T. officers accompanied Austrian police to Halabi’s apartment and unlocked it with a spare key. Clothes were strewn about, and there was rotting food in the refrigerator. “The current whereabouts of al-Halabi could not be determined,” a B.V.T. officer noted, according to the police report. “The investigations are continuing.”
Oliver Lang still works at the B.V.T. His boss, Bernhard Pircher, was dismissed, after a different scandal. Pircher’s boss, Martin Weiss, was recently arrested, reportedly for selling classified information to the Russian state.
Three years ago, when Lang briefed Geissler on Operation White Milk, she asked him what Austria had gained from it. “Lang responded by saying that we might obtain information on internal structures of the Syrian intelligence service,” she later said. “I considered this pointless.”
Nazi hunters never gave up the pursuit for Alois Brunner. But, by 2014, when Brunner would have been a hundred and two, there had been no confirmed sighting in more than a decade. A German intelligence official informed a group of investigators that Brunner was almost certainly dead. “We were never able to confirm it forensically,” one of them told the Times. Nevertheless, he added, “I took his name off the list.”
Three years later, two French journalists, Hedi Aouidj and Mathieu Palain, tracked down Brunner’s Syrian guards in Jordan. Apparently, when Hafez al-Assad was close to death, his preparations for Bashar’s succession included hiding the old Nazi in a pest-ridden basement. Brunner was “very tired, very sick,” one of the guards recalled. “He suffered and he cried a lot. Everyone heard him.” The guard added that Brunner couldn’t even wash himself. “Even animals—you couldn’t put them in a place like that,” he said. Soon after Bashar took over, the door closed, and Brunner never saw it open again. “He died a million times.”
Brunner’s guards had been drawn from Syrian counterintelligence—Branch 300—and the dungeon where he died, in 2001, was beneath its headquarters. Halabi may well have been in the building during Brunner’s final weeks. Now Austria deflected attention from Halabi’s case, much as Syria had done with Brunner’s. A year after Halabi hastily moved out of his B.V.T. apartment, Rapp met with Christian Pilnacek, Austria’s second-highest Justice Ministry official. According to Rapp’s notes, Pilnacek said that, if the CIJA really wanted Halabi arrested, perhaps it ought to tell the ministry where he was. Last fall, Rapp returned to Vienna for an appointment with the justice minister—but she didn’t show up.
Of Halabi’s recent phone numbers, two had Austrian country codes, and a third was Hungarian. Until last fall, his WhatsApp profile picture showed him posing in sunglasses on the Széchenyi bridge, in Budapest. There have been unconfirmed sightings of him in Switzerland, and speculation that he escaped Vienna on a ferry down the Danube, to Bratislava, Slovakia. But the most reliable tips, from Syrians who know him, still place him in Austria.
One of these Syrians is Mustafa al-Sheikh, a defected brigadier general and the self-appointed head of the Free Syrian Army’s Supreme Military Revolutionary Council—an outfit he founded, to the confusion of existing F.S.A. factions. In a recent phone call from Sweden, he described Halabi as his “best friend.” “General Halabi is one of the best people in the Syrian revolution,” Sheikh insisted. He said that Halabi’s links to war crimes and foreign intelligence agencies were lies, conjured by Syrian intelligence and laundered through “deep state” networks in Europe, as part of a plot to undermine Halabi as a potential replacement for Assad. “I am positive that it is the French and the Austrians who are trying to cut Halabi’s wings, because people like him undermine their agendas in Syria,” he said.
But Halabi has reported on Sheikh’s activities to the Mossad. On January 4, 2017, a Mossad operative informed Oliver Lang that Halabi would be travelling abroad, because a friend of his had been invited by a foreign ministry to discuss a political settlement for Syria. “The friend wants Milk to participate in the negotiations,” Lang noted, in a top-secret memo, adding that the Mossad would debrief Halabi on his return.
Lang figured that the negotiations were “presumably in Jordan.” Instead, five days later, Halabi flew to Moscow, where he joined Mustafa al-Sheikh in a meeting with Russia’s deputy foreign minister, Mikhail Bogdanov. In the previous months, the Russians had helped the Syrian Army, and associated Shia militias, forcibly displace tens of thousands of civilians from rebel-held areas of Aleppo. Now the Russian government framed its discussions with Sheikh and Halabi as a “meeting with a group of Syrian opposition members,” with an “emphasis on the need to end the bloodshed.” Sheikh appeared on Russian state television and said that he hoped Russia would do to the rest of Syria what it had done in Aleppo—a statement that drew accusations of treason from his former rebel partners. Halabi remained in the shadows. I have heard rumors that he made three more trips to Moscow, but have found no evidence of this. His Austrian passport expired last December and has not been renewed.
In late August, I flew to Vienna and journeyed on to Bratislava. Every day for the next four days, I crossed the Slovak border into Austria by train shortly after dawn. I could see an array of satellite dishes on the hill at Königswarte—an old Cold War listening station, for spying on the East, now updated and operated by the N.S.A. In the past century, Vienna has become known as a city of spies. It is situated on the fringe of East and West, by Cold War standards, and Austria has been committed to neutrality, in the manner of the Swiss, since the nineteen-fifties. These conditions have attracted many international organizations, and, in recent decades, Vienna has been the site of high-profile spy swaps, peace negotiations, and unsolved assassinations. Now, as my colleague Adam Entous reported, it is the epicenter of Havana Syndrome—invisible attacks, of uncertain origin, directed at U.S. Embassy officials.
Austria’s legal framework effectively allows foreign intelligence agencies to act as they see fit, as long as they don’t target the host nation. But Austria has little capacity to enforce even this. According to Siegfried Beer, an Austrian historian of espionage, “Whenever we discover a mole within our own services, it’s not because we’re any good at counterintelligence—it’s because we get a hint from another country.
“The biggest problem with the B.V.T. is the quality of the people,” he went on. With few exceptions, “it is staffed with incompetents, who got there through police departments or political parties.” Most officers have no linguistic training or international experience.
In 2018, after a series of scandals, the Ministry of the Interior decided to dissolve the B.V.T., which it oversees, and replace it with a new organization, to be called the Directorate of State Security and Intelligence. Officers are currently reapplying for their own positions within the new structure, which will be launched at the beginning of next year. But, as Beer sees it, the effort is futile: “Where are you going to get six hundred people who, all of a sudden, can do intelligence work?”
Press officers at the Interior Ministry insinuated that it could be illegal for them to comment on this story. Pircher declined to comment; lawyers for Weiss and Lang did not engage. The Justice Ministry’s Economic Crimes and Corruption Office, which is investigating the circumstances under which Halabi was granted asylum, said that it “doesn’t have any files against Khaled al-Halabi”—but I have several thousand leaked pages from its investigation.
A week before my arrival in Austria, I sent a detailed request to the Mossad; it went unanswered. So did three requests to the Israeli Embassy in Vienna, and one to Unit 504. On a sunny morning, I walked to the Embassy, on a quiet, tree-lined street. “We did not answer you, because we do not want to answer you!” an Israeli official bellowed through a speaker at the gate. “Publish whatever you want! We will not read it.”
From there, I walked to Halabi’s last known address. As I approached, I noticed that, on Google Maps, the name of the building was denoted in Arabic script, al-beit—“home.” For several minutes, I sat on a bench near the entrance listening, through an open window, to an Arabic-speaking woman who was cooking in Halabi’s old flat, 1-A. Then I checked the doorbell: “Lamberg”—Oliver Lang’s cover name.
A teen-age boy answered the door, but he was far too young to be Halabi’s son, Kotaiba. I asked if Halabi was there. “He left long ago,” the boy said. I asked how he knew the name; he replied that Austrian journalists had come to the flat before.
The next day, I visited Halabi’s lawyer, Timo Gerersdorfer, at his office, in Vienna’s Tenth District. He said that the government had revoked Halabi’s asylum status, since it had been obtained through deception, and that he has appealed the decision, arguing that the revelation of Halabi’s work for Israeli intelligence poses such a threat to his life that Austria must protect him forever. “No one could get asylum in Austria if they told the truth,” he said. According to Gerersdorfer, Halabi is broke; it seems that the Mossad has stopped paying his expenses. A few months ago, Halabi tried to stay in a shelter with other refugees, but the shelter looked into his background and turned him away.
I discovered a new address for Halabi, in the Twelfth District, an area that is home to many immigrants from Turkey and the Balkans. Later that afternoon, I walked the streets near his block, as people returned home from work. The neighborhood was full of men who looked like him—late middle age, overweight, five and a half feet tall. I must have checked a thousand faces. But none of them were his.
Luschin’s office says that its investigation into Halabi is “still pending.” But, according to someone who is familiar with Luschin’s thinking, the general view at the Justice Ministry is that “it’s Syria, and it’s a war. Everybody tortures.” Other European governments have expressed openness to normalizing diplomatic relations with Assad, and have taken steps to deport refugees back to Syria and the surrounding countries.
If Halabi is the highest-ranking Syrian war criminal who can be arrested, it is only because the greater monsters are protected. The obstacle to prosecuting Assad and his deputies is political will at the U.N. Security Council. Halabi’s former boss in Damascus, Ali Mamlouk, reportedly travelled to Italy on a private jet in 2018. Mamlouk is one of the war’s worst offenders—it was his order, which Halabi passed along, to shoot at gatherings of more than four people in Raqqa. But Mamlouk—who has been sanctioned since 2011, and was prohibited from travelling to the European Union—had a meeting with Italy’s intelligence director, so he came and went.
After twenty hours of searching for Halabi, I walked to his apartment complex and buzzed his door. A young Austrian woman answered; she had never heard of Halabi, and had no interest in who he was. I showed Halabi’s photograph at every shop and restaurant in a three-block radius of the address. “We know a lot of people in this neighborhood,” a Balkan man with a gray goatee told me. He squinted at the image a second time, and shook his head. “I have never seen this man.”
On my way out of the Twelfth District, I walked past the western side of the apartment building, where balconies overlook a garden. Directly above the Austrian woman’s apartment, a man who looked like Khaled al-Halabi sat on his balcony, shielded from the late-morning sun. But I was unable to confirm that it was him. A knock on the door went unanswered; according to a neighbor, the flat is empty. A lie uttered by Syria’s foreign minister, thirty years ago, kept playing in my head: “This Brunner is a ghost.” ♦
New Yorker Favorites
My childhood in a cult.
What does it mean to die?
The cheating scandal that shook the world of master sommeliers.
Can we live longer but stay younger?
How mosquitoes changed everything.
Why paper jams persist.
Sign up for our daily newsletter to receive the best stories from The New Yorker. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 24 | https://m.economictimes.com/news/defence/syria-assad-dynastys-half-century-in-power/articleshow/82908949.cms | en | Syria: Assad dynasty's half century in power | [
"https://img.etimg.com/photo/msid-76920425,quality-100/et-logo.jpg",
"https://img.etimg.com/photo/msid-111867794,quality-100/et-logo.jpg",
"https://img.etimg.com/photo/104857408.cms",
"https://img.etimg.com/thumb/msid-82909013,width-300,height-225,imgsize-809235,resizemode-75/bashar-al-assad.jpg",
"https://... | [] | [] | [
"Saddam Hussein",
"islam",
"assad",
"Nureddin al-Atassi",
"Hafez al-Assad",
"syria",
"Golan Heights",
"Muslim Brotherhood",
"Baath party",
"bashar al-assad"
] | null | [] | 2021-05-24T17:20:00+05:30 | Hafez al-Assad, Syria's defence minister and the father of Bashar al-Assad, takes power in a military coup on November 16, 1970 that ousts president Nureddin al-Atassi. Assad, who leads the pan-Arab nationalist Baath Party, is elected president on March 12, 1971. He is the only candidate. | en | https://economictimes.indiatimes.com/icons/etfavicon.ico | The Economic Times | https://m.economictimes.com/news/defence/syria-assad-dynastys-half-century-in-power/articleshow/82908949.cms | Synopsis
Hafez al-Assad, Syria's defence minister and the father of Bashar al-Assad, takes power in a military coup on November 16, 1970 that ousts president Nureddin al-Atassi. Assad, who leads the pan-Arab nationalist Baath Party, is elected president on March 12, 1971. He is the only candidate.
With President Bashar al-Assad almost certain to hold onto power in Wednesday's election, Syria will have been ruled for more than five decades by the same family, the power passing from father to son.
#Budget' 2024 with ET
Budget Highlights: Your 2-minute guide
FM 's plan for Viksit Bharat: A look at key numbers
What's in Sitharaman's Budget for you?
Hafez al-Assad, Syria's defence minister and the father of Bashar, takes power in a military coup on November 16, 1970 that ousts president Nureddin al-Atassi.
Assad, who leads the pan-Arab nationalist Baath Party, is elected president on March 12, 1971. He is the only candidate.
He is Syria's first head of state from the Alawite sect of Shiite Islam. The minority make up 10 percent of the population.
Egypt and Syria launch a surprise attack on Israel on October 6, 1973 in a bid to win back territories they lost in the Six-Day War in 1967, but they are pushed back.
You Might Also Like:
Russia warns Turkey over ties with Ukraine
A disengagement agreement for the Golan Heights -- formerly held by Syria -- is signed in May 1974, officially ending the war.
A month later, US president Richard Nixon visits Damascus and announces the re-establishment of diplomatic relations with Syria, frozen since 1967.
Two years later, Syrian troops intervene in the Lebanese civil war, with US approval, after an appeal by embattled Christian forces.
For three decades Syria will be a dominant military and political force in Lebanon.
You Might Also Like:
How did Hamas grow its arsenal to strike Israel?
The Syrian regime viciously cracks down on an armed uprising by the Muslim Brotherhood in the city of Hama in February 1982. Between 10,000 and 40,000 people die.
The brotherhood have been previous accused of a 1979 attack in which 80 military cadets, all Alawites, were killed in a hail of gunfire and grenades at their academy in Aleppo.
Syria's ties with the US begin to thaw in 1990-1991, following the collapse of the Soviet Union, with which Damascus a decade earlier had signed a Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation.
Syria joins the multinational forces in the US-led coalition against Saddam Hussein, following Iraq's invasion of Kuwait.
You Might Also Like:
In Denmark, Syrian families fear being sent home
Hafez al-Assad dies on June 10, 2000, at the age of 69. A month later his son Bashar becomes Syria's new head of state, winning a referendum with 97 percent of the vote. Again, he is the only candidate.
In September that year, 100 intellectuals call for the lifting of martial law, more freedom and political pluralism. It becomes known as the "Damascus Spring".
But the period of apparent openness is short-lived. Assad's government cracks down on dissent and arrests 10 opponents in July 2001.
A decade later, the Arab Spring that sees people rise up against autocratic rulers across the Middle East arrives in Syria. Protests break out in March calling for civil liberties and the release of political prisoners.
Brutally repressed by the regime, the protests turn into a devastating war, with several regional and international powers getting involved, as well as jihadist groups.
With huge military support from Iran and Russia, the Assad regime has ground out a string of military victories in recent years and regained nearly two-thirds of the country.
The war has claimed more than 388,000 lives and displaced or forced into exile some 12 million people. It has caused massive destruction and battered the country's economy.
#Budget' 2024 with ET
What's cheaper and what's costlier? Here's the list
New slabs announced in new income tax regime
(You can now subscribe to our Economic Times WhatsApp channel)
(Catch all the Business News, Breaking News, Budget 2024 Events and Latest News Updates on The Economic Times.)
Subscribe to The Economic Times Prime and read the ET ePaper online.
...moreless
(You can now subscribe to our Economic Times WhatsApp channel)
(Catch all the Business News, Breaking News, Budget 2024 Events and Latest News Updates on The Economic Times.)
Subscribe to The Economic Times Prime and read the ET ePaper online.
...moreless | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 87 | https://apnews.com/article/6096f82bec39e78101d3e07282da387a | en | France sentences Syrian leader’s uncle for money laundering | https://dims.apnews.com/dims4/default/732afb5/2147483647/strip/true/crop/2000x1125+0+794/resize/1440x810!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fstorage.googleapis.com%2Fafs-prod%2Fmedia%2Fdd80790fd7124c858d938d520435aaa0%2F2000.jpeg | https://dims.apnews.com/dims4/default/732afb5/2147483647/strip/true/crop/2000x1125+0+794/resize/1440x810!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fstorage.googleapis.com%2Fafs-prod%2Fmedia%2Fdd80790fd7124c858d938d520435aaa0%2F2000.jpeg | [
"https://assets.apnews.com/fa/ba/9258a7114f5ba5c7202aaa1bdd66/aplogo.svg",
"https://dims.apnews.com/dims4/default/94c503b/2147483647/strip/true/crop/640x236+0+0/resize/320x118!/quality/90/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fassets.apnews.com%2Fc3%2F4c%2F65482a7b452db66043542c093eaf%2Fpromo-2x.png 1x,https://dims.apnews.com/dims4/... | [] | [] | [
"Europe",
"Bashar Assad",
"Middle East",
"Money laundering",
"Legal proceedings",
"Intl News",
"Paris",
"France",
"Syria",
"General news",
"Business"
] | null | [] | 2020-06-17T18:10:30+00:00 | PARIS (AP) — An uncle of Syrian President Bashar Assad was sentenced to four years in prison in France on Wednesday for illegally using Syrian state funds to build a French real estate empire. | en | /apple-touch-icon.png | AP News | https://apnews.com/article/6096f82bec39e78101d3e07282da387a | PARIS (AP) — An uncle of Syrian President Bashar Assad was sentenced to four years in prison in France on Wednesday for illegally using Syrian state funds to build a French real estate empire.
The anti-corruption groups that launched the legal proceedings against Rifaat Assad hailed the Paris court’s ruling as a new victory in long-running efforts to prosecute foreign leaders accused of hiding stolen money in France.
Assad, 82, a former Syrian vice president who fled his country, was tried in absentia for medical reasons. His lawyers said they immediately appealed the decision.
Transparency International and French anti-corruption group Sherpa filed a complaint in 2013 accusing Assad of using shell companies in tax havens to launder public funds from Syria into France. His French holdings, which include several dozen apartments and two luxury townhouses in Paris, have been valued at 90 million euros ($99.5 million) — a sum the watchdog groups say is well beyond what he could have earned as a Syrian vice president and military commander.
Assad, charged with money laundering and diversion of public funds, denied wrongdoing. He said the funds that allowed him to buy his French real estate came from generous gifts from his 16 children and the late Saudi king.
Assad, brother to former President Hafez Assad, fled Syria after a falling out with the former ruler and a failed coup attempt in 1984. Since then, Rifaat Assad and his large family have amassed a real estate empire across several European countries, while continuing to organize opposition to Bashar Assad’s government from abroad.
A representative for Rifaat Assad’s family, Cedric Anthony-Btesh, alleged that the trial was politically charged.
“We are very surprised,” he told The Associated Press. “There was not the slightest material proof or sign of (illicit) financial flows” despite multiple searches and investigations in multiple countries.
It’s the second such ruling in France prompted by a campaign by Sherpa and Transparency International to hold foreign dignitaries to account for laundering embezzled state money abroad.
Sherpa hopes Assad’s money will one day find its way back to the Syrian people, and is working to develop a transparent legal mechanism for restitution that would ensure the money doesn’t end up in the hands of repressive rulers.
The groups also urged French President Emmanuel Macron to revoke Rifaat Assad’s Legion of Honor award, granted by the French state.
Rifaat Assad, who commanded a military brigade in Syria in the early 1980s, acquired the nickname “the Butcher of Hama” after human rights groups alleged he supervised an assault that crushed a 1982 uprising in Hama, Syria. Rifaat has denied any role in the Hama massacre. He has also been linked to the 1980 killings of hundreds of prisoners as well as Syrian army abuses in Lebanon in the 1970s and early 1980s. | ||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 32 | https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2021/9/9/french-jail-term-confirmed-for-uncle-of-syrias-assad | en | French jail term confirmed for uncle of Syria’s al-Assad | [
"https://www.aljazeera.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/09/AP19343359919982.jpg?resize=770%2C513&quality=80",
"https://www.aljazeera.com/static/media/aj-footer-logo.bac952ad.svg"
] | [] | [] | [
"News",
"Corruption",
"Europe",
"France",
"Middle East",
"Syria"
] | null | [
"Al Jazeera"
] | 2021-09-09T00:00:00 | Court confirms last year’s four-year prison sentence against 84-year-old Rifaat al-Assad. | en | /favicon_aje.ico | Al Jazeera | https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2021/9/9/french-jail-term-confirmed-for-uncle-of-syrias-assad | A French court has reportedly upheld a guilty verdict against Syrian President Bashar al-Assad’s uncle for misappropriating public funds in Syria, laundering the spoils and building a vast property portfolio in France with ill-gotten gains.
AFP news agency reported on Thursday that the Paris appeals court had confirmed a four-year jail sentence for Rifaat al-Assad, although the 84-year-old former military commander is unlikely to serve time because of his age.
The ruling, however, clears the way for all of Rifaat al-Assad’s property in France, estimated to be worth about 90 million euros ($106m), to be seized, as ordered by the lower court in June last year.
Rifaat al-Assad has been under investigation in France since 2014.
The younger brother of the late Syrian President Hafez al-Assad – father of the incumbent president – was tried for crimes allegedly committed between 1984 and 2016, including aggravated tax fraud and misappropriation of Syrian funds.
A Paris court last June dismissed charges against Rifaat al-Assad for the period 1984 to 1996, but found him guilty of organised laundering of funds embezzled from the Syrian public purse between 1996 and 2016. He was also convicted of tax fraud.
Formerly Syria’s vice president, Rifaat al-Assad left his home country in 1984 after mounting a failed coup against his brother Hafez, who led Syria from 1971 to 2000.
His French fortune includes two townhouses in chic Parisian neighbourhoods, a stud farm, about 40 apartments and a chateau, AFP said.
Rifaat al-Assad and his family also built up a huge portfolio of properties in Spain, valued at around 695 million euros ($822m), which were all seized by the authorities in 2017, it reported.
Lawyers for Rifaat al-Assad, who was awarded France’s Legion of Honour in 1986 for “services rendered”, have insisted all his money had a lawful origin.
The French case against him began with a suit filed in 2013 by anti-corruption campaign group Sherpa.
Calling Thursday’s verdict “encouraging”, Sherpa said in a statement that it hoped the courts would now intensify the fight against illicit funds stashed away in France.
“This decision is a victory that emphasises the importance of establishing a binding framework for the operational aspects of the restitution of assets derived from grand corruption,” the group said on Twitter.
Moreover, the organisation said the funds should be allocated “to projects in the areas of health, education, and good governance”.
Rifaat al-Assad is also widely held responsible for the suppression of an uprising in 1982 against Hafez in which many thousands were killed. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 65 | https://military-history.fandom.com/wiki/Bassel_al-Assad | en | Bassel al-Assad | https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/ucp-internal-test-starter-commons/images/a/aa/FandomFireLogo.png/revision/latest?cb=20210713142711 | https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/ucp-internal-test-starter-commons/images/a/aa/FandomFireLogo.png/revision/latest?cb=20210713142711 | [
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/b/bc/Basil_assad.JPG/180px-Basil_assad.JPG",
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/5/53/Flag_of_Syria.svg/23px-Flag_of_Syria.svg.png",
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/f/fb/Syria-Muqaddam.jpg/30px-Syria-Muqaddam.jpg",
"... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Contributors to Military Wiki"
] | 2024-07-03T16:38:30+00:00 | Bassel al-Assad (Arabic: باسل الأسد, Bāssel al Assad; 23 March 1962 – 21 January 1994) was the eldest son of former Syrian President Hafez al-Assad and the older brother of President Bashar al-Assad. He was widely expected to succeed his father had it not been for his own death in a car... | en | /skins-ucp/mw139/common/favicon.ico | Military Wiki | https://military-history.fandom.com/wiki/Bassel_al-Assad | Bassel al-Assad (Arabic: باسل الأسد, Bāssel al Assad; 23 March 1962 – 21 January 1994) was the eldest son of former Syrian President Hafez al-Assad and the older brother of President Bashar al-Assad. He was widely expected to succeed his father had it not been for his own death in a car accident.
Early life and education[]
Bassel Assad was born on 23 March 1962.[1] He was trained as a mechanical engineer,[2] and held a PhD in military sciences.[3]
In 1988, regarding his relations with his father he told Patrick Seale "we saw father at home but he was so busy that three days could go by without us exchanging a word with him. We never had breakfast or dinner together, and I don't remember ever having lunch together as a family, or maybe we only did once or twice when state affairs were involved. As a family, we used to spend a day or two in Lattakia in the summer, but then too he used to work in the office and we didn't get to see much of him."[4]
Career and succession[]
Trained in parachute-jumping,[3] Assad was commissioned in the Special Forces and later switched to the armored corps after training in the Soviet Military Academies. He rapidly became a major and then commander of a battalion in the Republican Guard.[1][5] After Hafez Assad recovered from a serious illness in 1984, Bassel began to accompany his father in his visits.[6]
He first emerged on the national scene in 1987, when he won several equestrian medals at a regional tournament.[5] The Baath Party press in Syria long ago eulogised Bassel Assad as “the golden knight” due to his prowess in horsemanship.[7] Bassel also had a reputation for his interest in fast cars.[8] It was said by officials in Damascus that he was uncorrupted and honest.[7] His friends and teachers describe him as charismatic and commanding.[9] He was appointed head of presidential security.[10][11] In addition, he launched the Syrian Computer Society in 1989, which was later headed by his brother Bashar.[12]
Originally President Hafez Assad's younger brother Rifaat al-Assad was the his chosen successor,[3] but he unsuccessfully attempted to replace him when Hafez was in a coma in 1984. Following this incident, Bassel Assad was groomed to succeed his father.[13][14] However, elder Assad's efforts intensified to make him to be the next president of Syria in the early 1990s.[3] Since his last election victory in 1991, President Hafez Assad was publicly referred to as “Abu Basil” (Father of Bassel).[15] He was being introduced to European and Arab leaders at that period, and he was a close friend of the children of King Hussein of Jordan. He had been also introduced to King Fahd and then Lebanese leaders of all sects.[7] Assad had a significant role in Lebanese affairs.[16] Assad organized a highly publicized anti-corruption campaign within the regime, and frequently appeared in full military uniform at official receptions, signaling the regime's commitment to the armed forces.[8]
Personal life[]
Assad is said to have spoken French and Russian fluently.[7] According to leaked US diplomatic cables, he had an affair with a Lebanese woman, who later married Lebanese journalist and deputy Gebran Tueni.[17]
Death and burial[]
On 21 January 1994, driving his Maserati at high speed through fog to Damascus International Airport for a flight to Germany in the early hours of the morning,[18] Bassel is said to have collided with a motorway roundabout without wearing a seatbelt, and he died instantly.[8][19] It was reported that his cousin, Hafez Makhlouf, was with him and hospitalized with injuries after the accident.[19] Bassel Assad's body was taken to Al Assad University Hospital.[19] Then his body was buried in Qardaha in northern Syria where his father's body was also buried.[20][21]
Aftermath[]
After his death, shops, schools and public offices in Syria closed for three days, and luxury hotels suspended the sale of alcohol in respect.[5] Bassel Assad was elevated by the state into "the martyr of the country, the martyr of the nation and the symbol for its youth."[5] Numerous squares and streets were named after him. The new international swimming complex, various hospitals, sporting clubs and a military academy were also named after him. His statue is found in several Syrian cities, and even after his death he is often pictured on billboards with his father and brother.[5]
Consequences[]
Bassel Assad's death led to his lesser-known brother Bashar al-Assad, then undertaking postgraduate training in ophthalmology in London, assuming the mantle of President-in-waiting. Bashar Assad became President following the death of Hafez Assad on 10 June 2000.[22] Bassel Assad's posters and his name were also used to secure a smooth transition after Hafez Assad through the slogan "Basil, the Example: Bashar, the Future."[23]
See also[]
Assad family | ||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 93 | https://ca.news.yahoo.com/assad-wins-syria-election-88-7-percent-votes-190506817.html | en | Assad wins Syria election with 88.7 percent of votes: speaker | [
"https://s.yimg.com/rz/stage/p/yahoo_news_en-US_h_p_newsv2.png",
"https://s.yimg.com/rz/stage/p/yahoo_news_en-US_h_p_newsv2.png",
"https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/jAOh15DZaYKq1PH05Lfj2A--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTI1NjtoPTYw/https://s.yimg.com/os/creatr-uploaded-images/2020-11/62e21440-2fbd-11eb-95ff-5673fa3d... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2014-06-04T19:16:40+00:00 | Bashar al-Assad won 88.7 percent of the vote in Syria's presidential election, parliament speaker Mohammad al-Laham said on Wednesday, securing a third term in office despite a raging civil war which grew out of protests against his rule. Assad's foes had dismissed the election as a charade, saying the two relatively unknown challengers offered no real alternative and that no poll held in the midst of civil war could be considered credible. "I declare the victory of Dr Bashar Hafez al-Assad as president of the Syrian Arab Republic with an absolute majority of the votes cast in the election," Laham said in a televised address from his office in the Syrian parliament. Syria's constitutional court earlier said that turnout in Tuesday's election and an earlier round of voting for Syrian expatriates stood at 73 percent. | en | https://s.yimg.com/rz/l/favicon.ico | Yahoo News | https://ca.news.yahoo.com/assad-wins-syria-election-88-7-percent-votes-190506817.html | BEIRUT (Reuters) - Bashar al-Assad won 88.7 percent of the vote in Syria's presidential election, parliament speaker Mohammad al-Laham said on Wednesday, securing a third term in office despite a raging civil war which grew out of protests against his rule. Assad's foes had dismissed the election as a charade, saying the two relatively unknown challengers offered no real alternative and that no poll held in the midst of civil war could be considered credible. "I declare the victory of Dr Bashar Hafez al-Assad as president of the Syrian Arab Republic with an absolute majority of the votes cast in the election," Laham said in a televised address from his office in the Syrian parliament. Syria's constitutional court earlier said that turnout in Tuesday's election and an earlier round of voting for Syrian expatriates stood at 73 percent. Syrian officials had described the predicted victory as vindication of Assad's three-year campaign against those fighting to oust him. Voting took place in government-controlled areas of Syria, but not in large parts of northern and eastern Syria held by rebels fighting to end 44 years of Assad family rule. The conflict has killed 160,000 people, driven nearly 3 million abroad as refugees and displaced many more inside Syria. (Reporting by Dominic Evans; editing by Ralph Boulton) | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 10 | https://www.medalbook.com/middle-east/syria-1 | en | MedalBook | [
"https://www.medalbook.com/assets/logo-35131758a5e92b8b07d53e13bbcf8e41f8cd6bee1c9629e355c0e86761074f9d.png",
"https://www.medalbook.com/assets/logo-mobile-188eb1dfae30c473f8bedb12b1fbcfa366d61372df70715e793d4a21953b6cbf.png",
"https://www.medalbook.com/assets/facebook-login-3f52d3369bc83f0543646bb8b05fedf7b299... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | The most comprehensive and largest online database and price guide of Military & Historical products. Your Bridge to History. | en | /favicons/apple-touch-icon.png | Medalbook | https://www.medalbook.com/middle-east/syria-1 | Sources
“6th October Medal.” Syrian Medals. Accessed in April, 2018. http://www.syrianmedals.narod.ru/oct.html
“Arab Medals: Syria.” Gentleman’s Military Interest Club. Posted on January 12, 2007. http://gmic.co.uk/topic/14267-arab-medals-syria/?page=3
“Israeli & Jewish Military: Egypt/Syria Order of the United Arab Republic, 1958-1961.” Historama: The Online History Shop. Last Updated in 2018. https://historama.com/history-shop/israeli-jewish-militaria/egypt-syria-union-order-of-the-united-arab-republic,-1958-1961-size-medal-only-48-x-62mm-weight-23-8g-obv-leg-united-arab-republic-we-will-protect-it-map-of-the-arab-detail.html
“Israeli & Jewish Militaria: Syrian Order of the Palestine Campaign (‘Palestine Medal’), 1948.” Historama: The Online History Shop. Last Updated in 2018. https://historama.com/history-shop/israeli-jewish-militaria/syrian-order-of-the-palestine-campaign-palestine-medal-,-1948-detail.html
“Medals of Syria Display.” Gentleman’s Military Interest Club. Posted on February 14, 2006. http://gmic.co.uk/topic/5788-medals-of-syria-display/
“Orders and Medals of Syria.” World Awards. Accessed in March, 2018. http://wawards.org/en/syria.html
“Order of Military Honor.” Syrian Medals. Accessed in March, 2018. http://www.syrianmedals.narod.ru/honour.html
“Syria.” The Medal Hound. Last Updated in July, 2017. http://www.themedalhound.com/french/syria.html
“Syria.” World Orders and Medals. Last Updated March 27, 2006. http://www.ordersandmedals.net/World/Syria/Syria.htm
“Syria: Orders, Decorations and Medals of Syria.” Syria Today. Accessed in March, 2018. http://www.syriatoday.ca/medals.htm
“Syria: Order of Military Honour (1953).” Collection Privee Patrice and Patricia Reboul. Accessed in March, 2018. http://www.patricereboul.com/en/ficheobjet.php?typeobjet=produit&info_typeoeuvre=Decorations%20et%20ordres%20de%20chevalerie&produit=R02676
“Syrian Arab Republic.” Zasluga.net. Accessed in March, 2018. http://www.zasluga.net/Asia/Syria/Syria.htm
“Syrian Medals.” Rusty Knight’s Place. Last Updated March 21, 2018. http://rustysmedals.rustyknight98.com/Syria.htm
“Syrian Decorations and Campaign Medals Awarded for Wars Against Israel.” Medals and Decorations of Israel. Last Updated in April, 2017. http://www.israelidecorations.net/OtherSide/Syria.htm
“Syrian Military Medals.” Arabic Medals. Accessed in April, 2018. http://www.arabicmedals.com/Syriamedals.htm
“Syrian Military Orders and Medals.” GlobalSecurity.org. Last Modified on March 23, 2012. https://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/syria/decorations.htm | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 45 | https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/article/on-30th-anniversary-of-hama-massacre-syrian-troops-lock-down-city/ | en | On 30th Anniversary of Hama Massacre, Syrian Troops Lock Down City | [
"https://s3.amazonaws.com/apps.frontline.org/img/fl-gray.png",
"https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/wp-content/themes/fl-responsive-theme/library/images/trust_mark.svg",
"https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/201338144626_618-300x198.jpg",
"https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/wp-content/... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Azmat Khan"
] | 2012-02-02T19:41:50+00:00 | Thirty years ago today, the regime of then-Syrian President Hafez al-Assad launched what's known as one of the bloodiest chapters of modern Arab history: the Hama Massacre. | en | FRONTLINE | https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/frontline/article/on-30th-anniversary-of-hama-massacre-syrian-troops-lock-down-city/ | Thirty years ago today, then-Syrian President Hafez al-Assad launched what’s known as one of the bloodiest chapters of modern Arab history: the Hama Massacre.
Back then, the city of Hama was the stronghold of Syria’s Muslim Brotherhood and the center of an anti-regime uprising that had been targeting government buildings and minority Alawite military officers for years.
“In 1982, the regime basically said, ‘That’s it. That’s enough. We have to deal with this once and for all. We have to show that we’re in control,'” Syria expert David Lesch told FRONTLINE for our November film, The Regime, an excerpt of which is embedded above. Estimates vary, but between 10,000 to 30,000 people are believed to have been killed or disappeared in the massacre that also left parts of the city in shambles. “It looked like a war zone,” remembered Syrian scholar Amr Al Azm.
Thirty years later, Hafez’s son, President Bashar al-Assad, faces a similar issue in Syria’s fourth-largest city, where resentment runs deep. Hama has seen some of the country’s biggest protests, and some of its worst violence since a new uprising began nearly 11 months ago. Last summer the Syrian opposition gained control of the city for six weeks, until the government sent troops into the city in August for a brutal assault that killed more than 100 civilians within its first 24 hours alone.
“Hama looked like Cairo. It looked like Tunis. This was a popular uprising,” explained New York Times correspondent Anthony Shadid, who had been reporting from Hama when it was free from government control. “And the government was very threatened by that narrative.” Three decades later, experts tell FRONTLINE, the regime is still playing by the rules it played by in 1982.
Syrian troops are back out in force in Hama today, closing public squares to keep residents from commemorating the massacre’s anniversary. Activists said firetrucks came to wash away the red paint they had splashed across the city, symbolizing the 1982 massacre.
The United Nations, which had last estimated the death toll to be more than 5,400 Syrians since the uprising broke out last March, announced recently that it was unable to update the figure.
As Foreign Policy‘s David Kenner points out, the latest death toll estimates from the Violations Documenting Center in Syria put the number at 7,054 over the last year, just slightly higher than the most conservative death toll estimates from the Hama massacre, around 7,000 people. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 51 | https://www.marines.mil/News/Tag/42449/syria/ | en | News | [
"https://www.marines.mil/Portals/1/Marines-Logo-White.png?ver=teao6ZCW04FMoTtRxQ-rag%3d%3d",
"https://d1ldvf68ux039x.cloudfront.net/thumbs/frames/video/2407/931554/DOD_110461700.0000001/500w_q95.jpg",
"https://d1ldvf68ux039x.cloudfront.net/thumbs/frames/video/2407/931304/DOD_110457605.0000001/500w_q95.jpg",
"... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | en | /Portals/1/favicon.ico?ver=5VCff1fdZxG8WJ14M_bjpw%3d%3d | null | Cpl. Tyler A. Frazier, a mortar Marine with 3rd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, is awarded the Purple Heart Medal by Lt. Col. Steven M. Ford, commanding officer, 3/7 at Victory Field aboard the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center, Twentynine Palms, Calif., Nov. 7, 2018. Frazier was awarded the Purple Heart for injuries sustained in Syria while 3/7 was deployed with the Special Purpose Marine Air Ground Task Force-Crisis Response-Central Command. - Cpl. Tyler A. Frazier, a mortar Marine with 3rd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment, is awarded the Purple Heart Medal by Lt. Col. Steven M. Ford, commanding officer, 3/7 at Victory Field aboard the Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center, Twentynine Palms, Calif., Nov. 7, 2018. Frazier was awarded the Purple Heart for injuries sustained in Syria while 3/7 was deployed with the Special Purpose Marine Air Ground Task Force-Crisis Response-Central Command. | ||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 33 | https://adimagazine.com/articles/the-price-of-a-voice/ | en | The Price of a Voice – Adi Magazine | [
"https://adimagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/Shewaro.png",
"https://adimagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/Shewaro-420x214.png",
"https://adimagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/Kim-420x214.png",
"https://adimagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/12/Jafarian-420x214.png",
"https://adimagazine.co... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Marcelle Shehwaro",
"Suzy Kim",
"Habibe Jafarian",
"Nadifa Mohamed",
"Sujatha Fernandes",
"Meara Sharma",
"Najwa Bin Shatwan",
"Shailja Patel"
] | null | Inside Syria, political voices emerged from repression. Outside, they resist appropriation. | en | Adi magazine | https://adimagazine.com/articles/the-price-of-a-voice/ | When was my first attempt to claim a voice, and whose voice tried to silence mine?
Did the silencing begin in my school in Aleppo? When I was forced to memorize and believe in anything our “eternal leader” said?
Some forms of silencing left marks on my voice; some made me louder.
*
“I see life in sports”
“إني أرى في الرياضة حياة”
I remember my teacher writing on the chalkboard, “I see life in sports.” It was just another quote by our leader, Hafez al-Assad. I didn’t know what was so special about this saying, but I knew it was special by default. Hafez’s photo (and later his son’s photo) hung in every classroom in Syria, decorated our notebooks and grade cards. Every student memorized Hafez speeches as part of our “Nationalism” curriculum. I used to rhyme them with the lyrics of famous songs, scared I might forget them on the tests. I passed year after year with full marks, memorizing his victories, his speeches, and of course, his wisdom.
In fourth grade, a teacher came to our class and asked us to fill out a form to join the Ba’ath party. I didn’t know what being in a political party meant. No one in the party seemed to care. If your family didn’t want you to join the party, the principal would take you to the “private room” and ask questions about what your parents thought.
I didn’t want to go to the private room. I didn’t know what my parents thought. No one in my class dared to say “No.” So it was done. I was officially a member of the ruling party.
In the schoolyard, when the teacher shouted “Who is our eternal leader?” we had to shout back “Hafez al-Assad.”
The only politics I experienced as a Syrian child was loyalty. The only voice allowed was the dictator’s voice.
But maybe the silence started even earlier. Maybe it started with the fear and obedience instilled in each Syrian family. Maybe this was our inheritance.
“Walls have ears”
الحيطان إلها آذان
Before preparing our school lunchboxes with za’atar and cucumber sandwiches, Syrian parents repeated to their kids: “Walls have ears.” This is how they introduced us to the security forces, how they coded language and warned us of going “behind the sun.”
Growing up in Aleppo, I never discussed our constitution and never voted for anyone, although of course I was counted among the 99% of people who elected the president. The only names I knew in our government were those of the officials from the president’s family.
I was in my early 20s when I accidentally stumbled upon a political forum online. Afterward, I couldn’t sleep. I thought for sure the security forces knew I had read the discussions on that forum. They see everything and know everything and now they were coming to take me, I thought. I didn’t know how I knew that I should be scared, but that fear was the most honest feeling I had toward the Syrian state. The fear that night, the idea of “them” taking me into the dark and the unknown just for reading political discussions online, made me realize that I wasn’t apolitical like I claimed. I was just scared. I was born in the cage and it was all I had known. People got arrested for cleaning the streets without security permission, a permission impossible to get. We didn’t dare tell anyone about our ideas because we didn’t know who to trust. Fear was the root of my politics.
I don’t know if my generation chose to be politically involved or whether the politics found us. We learned to use fake names online due to fear, not bravery. Oppression equipped us with the tools of resistance. We learned how to unblock any website, because even Facebook had been blocked. It wasn’t that we wanted to challenge the totalitarian system; the totalitarian system was involved in each aspect of our lives.
Some of us left Syria; many dreamt of doing so.
Those of us who stayed found hope for the first time with the Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions in 2011. We found our voice inside Syria while Tahrir Square chanted:
“The people want to overthrow the regime”
الشعب يريد إسقاط النظام
In the country where “walls have ears,” the streets finally had loud voices. My arm over a complete stranger’s shoulder, her arm over my shoulder, and all of us swaying while singing “Free Free Freedom, we want our freedom! Whether you accept it or not, Bashar, we will gain our freedom!”
Surrounded by thousands, in public, not hiding in secret. Demanding our rights, the ones we knew the Assad dictatorship took from us, and the ones we knew were missing.
We demanded the removal of the emergency law that ruled Syria since 1962, which restricted freedom of movement, forbade public gatherings, and allowed the mukhabarat, the security forces, to arrest and censor everyone and everything. We demanded freedom of the press and political parties. The street was ours and we brought to it, for the first time in recent Syrian history, political debates and ideas.
We discussed what kind of constitution we wanted, how we could preserve nonviolence in the movement, whether a university strike would be effective. We learned about our own racism and classism. I learned about the social problems that the official media claimed we didn’t have, like illiteracy and early marriages. I learned about the history of my city, Aleppo, for the first time. We listened to mothers whose sons and husbands were disappeared in the eighties. For the first time they were able to tell these stories. For the first time we were able to apologize for our ignorance.
“You want freedom, don’t you?”
“ بدكن حرية، ولا ؟ ”
In March 2012, at the protest marking the first anniversary of the Syrian revolution, I witnessed a member of the shabiha, the regime-backed militia, chanting their famous slogan—“You want freedom, don’t you?”—while hitting a man on the head with a huge wooden stick covered in nails. I froze staring at the blood coming out of that man’s head.
If we want freedom in Syria, then the only response we will get is violence. And the more we want it, the more blood it will cost us.
This sentence—“You want freedom, don’t you?”—along with mocking the protesters by calling them “Freedom People,” was part of the security mentality that was supposed to tame the public into silence again. The security forces couldn’t understand how the generation they had subjected to total censorship was able to question their authority. They didn’t understand why we weren’t whispering when talking about Syria—how we dared to talk about Syria at all. They were outraged when we went into the streets. They would force us to obey, or they would make our punishment as public as possible, so generations beyond would always remember the price of owning their voice. When detention alone failed to silence us, the regime moved forward into war.
One by one, my friends and I were requested for investigations by the security forces and had to flee to the other side of our city, to eastern Aleppo, where we lived under new levels of violence, and where our burgeoning political voices were subdued into the shape of survival.
“Assad or we burn the country”
“الأسد أو نحرق البلد”
In Arabic, this ugly promise has a rhyme: “al-Assad ‘aw nahruq al-balad.” It was the promise used by pro-Assad militias since the early days of the Syrian revolution: either dictatorship or destruction.
Soon after the protests began, the Syrian army started to besiege and bomb cities, and some Syrians took up weapons to defend their neighborhoods. Discussions among human rights defenders and activists shifted from aiming for a democratic future, to emergency response.
My group of friends, who began as a protest coordination unit, gathering in secret to discuss the future of Syria, had to deal with the daily realities of finding a house safe from bombardment. Dialogue about the future became more and more about how we could help children who suddenly lived in danger and without schools. We established our first school and had to learn how to manage it. Others set up hospitals or delivered basic aid.
The war forced political priorities into the background. Survival became our main focus, logistics an overwhelming distraction. Even those who tried to keep voicing political demands were stymied by the scale of need that the violence created. Another school after the last one got bombed; new camps for those who lost their homes; water; shelter. We were jolted back into our basic needs. Our people were suffering, and we felt responsible, even guilty at times.
The more the war intensified, the more localized we became. Going to other cities was dangerous and meant crossing tens of checkpoints. Satellite internet was expensive and electricity was cut off by the regime. They wanted the war to make us isolated and alienated, and that worked. The Syria we had been introduced to in 2011 started to shrink into our own city and even sometimes into our own street.
We had no space to process the present, let alone consider planning for a future. The political narrative that we had restored was paralyzed by procedures.
“Hold back your tongues from criticizing the jihadists”
“كفوا ألسنتكم عن المجاهدين”
In February 2013, a group of al-Qaeda supporters raised a sign in a protest in Aleppo: “All of us are al-Nusra Front.” Along with this sign, they wrote an Islamic phrase, “There is no God but Allah.”
When we objected to those signs, they accused us of defaming Islam. When Abu Mariam, an activist from Aleppo, removed the banners, al-Nusra Front arrested and flogged him with a metal pipe.
Islamists tried to silence the democratic demands of the Syrians from inside the movement, first by claiming their “victimhood” legitimacy. Their members were among the most brutally tortured in Syria since the eighties, after they tried to overthrow Hafez al-Assad. But during our revolution, the regime wanted to manipulate us by creating chaos, hatred, sectarianism, and fear, so they released many of the extremist Islamists from prison and focused mainly on arresting, torturing, and killing the leaders of the Syrian nonviolent movement.
Over time, the Islamists used the holy word as an excuse to kill any political dialogue, deploying the notion that they stood for “the higher cause” to silence any critics or secular voices. They ruled by sharia law and said that one couldn’t criticize what was written by God. They accused the activists of not being radical enough in their battle against dictatorship, mocking us with phrases like, “If you don’t like the Islamists militias, go and create your own Guevara group.” They painted over our freedom graffiti and symbols of revolution, blacking them out with phrases from the Quran and “the Caliphate is coming.”
“Hold back your tongues from criticizing the jihadists,” the supporters of the Islamists used to tell us when we resisted their power. When all of that failed to break the resistance against them, they also turned to violence. They kidnapped, tortured, and killed many who advocated for democracy, and pushed their opposition out of the country. Having already left Western Aleppo for Eastern Aleppo to escape the Syrian security forces, I was among those forced to move again, from Eastern Aleppo to Turkey, to flee the Islamist militias.
Those who stayed had to face multidimensional battles, with the regime’s war weapons, and with extremist Islamists, all the while trying to prove to the world that “we” who resist both forms of violence really do exist.
“But it is not donor-friendly”
“I don’t know how to say this, Marcelle, but I don’t think this proposal is donor friendly,” a UN employee told me during our first meeting in Gaziantep, Turkey in 2014. I didn’t know what she meant.
I had just left Aleppo and was trying to figure out a way to maintain a relationship with the country which had forced me to leave, to refine my voice and my role in the democratization of Syria.
I thought my silly formal suit was donor-friendly enough, and I was still struggling to understand the responsibilities of being an executive manager for an organization—an organization that started as an act of resistance amid the Syrian revolution and morphed into running schools that were under fire and minimally-resourced.
Eventually, I figured out the unwritten rules. When we mentioned in our organizational story the fact that one of our co-founders, Mustafa, was killed by an Assad airstrike, that was not donor-friendly. State violence shouldn’t be referenced; statements should use the passive, nonpolitical voice. “The schools got bombed, the activists got killed,” etc. Naming the perpetrators is considered political if the perpetrator is the state, of course. However, if the perpetrator is an Islamist extremist, naming is encouraged. We must act “neutral” toward the state and overly apologetic regarding our linkages to extremism. The “revolution” should be termed the “conflict,” and the “regime” should be the “government.”
Many of the international organizations working on Syria were pushing for a “neutral” Syrian civil society. This neutrality never meant delivering services to everyone regardless of their political opinion. Rather, it meant being less brave and less opinionated. And at the same time, this “apolitical neutrality” was expected to help solve complicated political problems like lack of female participation in local governance and child recruitment by militias.
Although I didn’t initially understand what donor-friendly meant, I had lived in Syria long enough to recognize when someone is trying to silence my voice. Even if the silencing was happening in English, not in Arabic.
This time, fear wasn’t the silencing power. Rather, we were being silenced by those who controlled the resources and shaped the narratives about what was happening in our country. The international organizations determined our priorities. We, the Syrians, were the “implementing partners” and the “beneficiaries.”
Being “donor friendly” meant writing to a European donor that a school project would prevent a child’s family from fleeing to Europe. If the donor was American, it meant writing that the same school would prevent a first-grade boy from becoming a terrorist.
Fortunately, we didn’t learn how to be donor-friendly. We tried to tell the truth, even if it didn’t appear sensational enough. We were working for a democratic Syria, and we were willing to die for it. We worked with a limited number of schools, and we managed to find allies around the world to support us. We were doing each of our projects not for anyone else’s “security,” but for our own country, for our own future, and we were determined to preserve our own political voice.
However, the term “democracy” started to disappear from the international dialogue about Syria. While the situation became the topic of high-level diplomacy, Syrians rarely would be at the table, and their political rights were rarely discussed. The meetings with Syrians were about “tolerance,” “countering violent extremism,” and “peace.”
Many of the foreigners who worked on the “Syrian issue,” tried to “civilize” us, teach us how to listen to each other. Hundreds of trainings and workshops focused mainly on amnesty, communication, and negotiation skills. What the international organizations thought of as inclusion was in fact limiting us only to our religious and ethnic identities. They ignored the systemic oppression and absence of the rule of law, focusing instead on the conflict among “us,” the Syrian people. They ignored the fact that the main problem wasn’t that we were not listening to each other; the problem was that the mukhabarat were determining the parameters of our dialogue, listening to each sentence, attacking anyone who dared to have a voice.
When we were invited to the table, it was often to fulfill a gender balance, or any other balance in mind. Syrians rarely decided the topic and agenda. I had the luxury of being tokenized twice, as a woman and as a “local” who speaks English.
I couldn’t be that kind of “neutral.” I had seen friends killed just because they dreamt of the ability to talk about Syria freely.
I didn’t want to be “neutral.” I didn’t want to lose this small space of freedom that we paid a huge price for, the freedom to own our political narrative.
However, it was not until the fall of Aleppo at the end of 2016 that I surrendered to the scary idea that I might not be able to go back to Syria. It took me more than two years to realize that I was a refugee, and that I am part of what was widely portrayed as:
“The refugee crisis”
However, I fail to recognize my own reflection in the coverage of Syrian refugees. The “Syrian refugee” is flattened into a victim. The “victim” doesn’t want anything besides food and shelter. The “victim” doesn’t have political reasons for leaving their country. Discussions around deporting refugees back to Syria occur casually under the term “return.” “Victims” are traumatized and can’t participate in policy and decision-making. “Victims,” therefore, don’t shape future dialogue about their country, reconstruction, integration programs—or, god forbid, democracy.
Most of the programs that responded to the “refugee crisis” were designed as if there was no Syrian activist to consult, and as if the main problem that prevents refugees from integration is culture shock.
Those programs, and subsequent media coverage, often failed to recognize that survivors fled torture, bombardment, and the loss of loved ones, and that they struggled with legal procedures in the country of asylum. Of course, they failed to recognize that refugees have their own political voices.
Consider the UNHCR website “Searching for Syria,” launched in 2017, which declares that “the world is looking for answers,” and goes on about how happy life used to be in Syria. We had a glamorous life before and then suddenly war happened, everything collapsed. Of course, things miraculously devolved without the slightest mention of state responsibility or its infamous track record of human rights abuses. No wonder, then, that the world couldn’t find an answer.
I moved to the US and enrolled in an MFA creative writing program. Regardless of how traumatic and dangerous it is to recall memories, I feel responsible for protecting our Syrian stories and sharing them with others. But I usually feel disappointed and sometimes outraged when I finish a speech and someone approaches me with this conclusion:
“But it’s complicated”
As if I need someone to remind me of this basic fact. As if I am not living every detail of my life with this complexity.
Sure, the situation in Syria is complicated. Ignoring, simplifying, or imposing denial further intensifies its complexity. We need to embrace the multilayered political, social, economic, and international aspects of the situation in Syria if we hope to solve it.
As a writer, I still struggle to resist the security forces, Islamists, international community censorship, and my own internal self-censorship.
As a writer from the Middle East, I demand the freedom to criticize my community without this being an invitation for genocide, an extra bullet on the borders, a longer hour for our men at airports, or another travel ban. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 3 | https://www.britannica.com/biography/Hafiz-al-Assad | en | Hafez al-Assad | Biography, Facts, Religion, & Son | [
"https://cdn.britannica.com/mendel/eb-logo/MendelNewThistleLogo.png",
"https://cdn.britannica.com/mendel/eb-logo/MendelNewThistleLogo.png",
"https://cdn.britannica.com/51/219151-004-45B59942/President-of-Syria-Hafiz-al-Assad-1980.jpg",
"https://cdn.britannica.com/51/219151-050-0D583CF7/President-of-Syria-Hafi... | [] | [] | [
"Hafez al-Assad",
"encyclopedia",
"encyclopeadia",
"britannica",
"article"
] | null | [
"The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica"
] | 1998-07-20T00:00:00+00:00 | Hafez al-Assad, president of Syria (1971–2000) who brought stability to the country and established it as a powerful presence in the Middle East. After his death in 2000, Assad was succeeded by his son Bashar. Learn more about Hafez al-Assad’s life and career. | en | /favicon.png | Encyclopedia Britannica | https://www.britannica.com/biography/Hafiz-al-Assad | Hafez al-Assad (born October 6, 1930, Qardāḥa, Syria—died June 10, 2000, Damascus) was the president of Syria (1971–2000) who brought stability to the country and established it as a powerful presence in the Middle East.
Born into a poor family of ʿAlawites, a minority Islamic sect, Assad joined the Syrian wing of the Baʿath Party in 1946 as a student activist. In 1952 he entered the Homs Military Academy, graduating three years later as an air force pilot. While exiled to Egypt (1959–61) during Syria’s short-lived union with Egypt in the United Arab Republic, Assad and other military officers formed a committee to resurrect the fortunes of the Syrian Baʿath Party. After the Baʿathists took power in 1963, Assad became commander of the air force. In 1966, after taking part in a coup that overthrew the civilian leadership of the party and sent its founders into exile, he became minister of defense. During Assad’s ministry Syria lost the Golan Heights to Israel in the Six-Day War (June 1967), dealing Assad a blow that shaped much of his future political career. Assad then engaged in a protracted power struggle with Salah al-Jadid—chief of staff of the armed forces, Assad’s political mentor, and effective leader of Syria—until finally in November 1970 Assad seized control, arresting Jadid and other members of the government. He became prime minister and in 1971 was elected president.
Assad set about building up the Syrian military with Soviet aid and gaining the loyalty of the Syrian populace with public works funded by Arab donors and international lending institutions. Political dissenters were eliminated by arrest, torture, and execution, and when the Muslim Brotherhood mounted a rebellion in Hama in 1982, Assad ruthlessly suppressed it at a cost of some 20,000 lives and the near destruction of the city. In foreign affairs Assad tried to establish Syria as a leader of the Arab world. A new alliance with Egypt culminated in a surprise attack on Israel in October 1973 (see October War), but Egypt’s unexpected cessation of hostilities exposed Syria to military defeat and earned Egypt’s president, Anwar Sadat, Assad’s enduring resentment. In 1976, with Lebanon racked by a bloody civil war, Assad dispatched several divisions to that country and secured their permanent presence there as part of a peacekeeping force sponsored by the Arab League. After Israel’s invasion and occupation of southern Lebanon in 1982–85, Assad was able to reassert control of the country, eventually compelling Lebanese Christians to accept constitutional changes increasing the representation of Muslims in the government. Assad also aided several militant groups that had been involved in the conflict. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 89 | https://www.occrp.org/en/daily/12575-france-sentences-syrian-president-s-uncle-for-money-laundering | en | France Sentences Syrian President’s Uncle for Money Laundering | [
"https://www.occrp.org/templates/occrp/assets/images/fb.svg",
"https://www.occrp.org/templates/occrp/assets/images/fb.svg",
"https://www.occrp.org/templates/occrp/assets/images/tw.svg",
"https://www.occrp.org/templates/occrp/assets/images/tw.svg",
"https://www.occrp.org/templates/occrp/assets/images/linkedi... | [] | [] | [
"FranceSyria"
] | null | [] | null | Organized Crime and Corruption Reporting Project | en | /images/favicon.png | https://www.occrp.org/en/daily/12575-france-sentences-syrian-president-s-uncle-for-money-laundering | A French court sentenced on Wednesday the uncle of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad to four years in jail for organized money laundering, aggravated tax fraud and embezzlement of Syrian public funds between 1996 and 2016.
After the anti-corruption group Sherpa filed in 2013 a lawsuit against him, Rifaat al-Assad, 82, was tried in December in absentia for “medical reasons.”
Grimly nicknamed “the Butcher of Hamah” for his alleged role in the massacre of thousands of opponents of the Syrian regime in Hamah in 1982, al-Assad left Syria in 1984 after he mounted a failed coup d’etat against his brother, Bashar’s father. Since his exile, the now UK-resident has built himself a real-estate empire in France and in other European countries.
However, as part of its ruling, the Paris judicial court ordered the seizure of his French real estate assets, valued at 90 million euro (US$101 million).
His assets comprised a castle near the city of Lyon, two mansions in chic Paris neighborhoods, a stud farm and about 40 apartments, the AFP reported.
Al-Assad’s lawyers failed to prove that his money came from “financial help” from Saudi Arabia for his exile.
“We are extremely satisfied with this ruling,” Laura Rousseau from Sherpa told OCCRP. “It is an exemplary decision for the victims of embezzlement and money-laundering.”
Al-Assad’s lawyers have announced their intention to appeal the verdict.
‘Ill-gotten gains’ cases have been brought by Sherpa against several heads of state or members of their families suspected of having laundered or embezzled ressources at the expense of the civilian population.
The rulings raised the question of the restitution of the money to the people of the countries they were stolen from. Sherpa as well as Transparency International France have long decried the absence of law regarding such cases.
“The appeal will give us time to put pressure on the lawmakers,” Laura Rousseau said.
In February 2020, Sherpa was celebrating another victory in the ill-gotten gains lawsuits, this time against the vice-president of Equatorial Guinea, Teodorin Obiang. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 8 | https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-43833652 | en | Syria returns Légion d'honneur award to France | [
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/976/cpsprodpb/11125/production/_100952996_046291937.jpg",
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/976/cpsprodpb/0023/production/_100953000_046234001.jpg",
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/2048/cpsprodpb/6EF0/production/_100700482_mediaitem100700481.jpg",
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/976/... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"BBC News",
"www.facebook.com"
] | 2018-04-20T03:52:21+00:00 | The Légion d'honneur is handed back after France joined the US and Britain in air strikes on Syria. | en | BBC News | https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-43833652 | Syria has returned to France the prestigious Légion d'honneur presented to President Bashar al-Assad, saying he would not wear the award of a country that was a "slave" to America.
The move comes days after France said a "disciplinary procedure" for withdrawing the award was under way.
France recently joined the US and Britain in bombing Syrian targets over an alleged chemical weapons attack.
The award was returned to France via the Romanian embassy in Damascus.
President Assad was decorated with the highest class of the award, the grand-croix, in 2001 after he took power following the death of his father.
"The ministry of foreign affairs... has returned to the French republic... the decoration of the grand-croix of the Légion d'honneur awarded to President Assad," the Syrian foreign ministry said in a statement.
"It is no honour for President Assad to wear a decoration attributed by a slave country and follower of the United States that supports terrorists," it added.
About 3,000 people every year are awarded the Légion d'honneur for "services rendered to France" or for defending human rights, press freedom or similar causes.
The US, UK and France bombed several Syrian government sites on Saturday in retaliation for an alleged chemical weapons attack on Douma, the last rebel-held town in the Eastern Ghouta region outside Damascus.
More than 40 people were killed in the 7 April attack, according to opposition activists, rescue workers and medics.
The Syrian government denies using chemical weapons and says the attack was fabricated. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 31 | https://www.economist.com/1843/2021/03/10/banker-princess-warlord-the-many-lives-of-asma-assad | en | Banker, princess, warlord: the many lives of Asma Assad | [
"https://www.economist.com/cdn-cgi/image/width=360,quality=80,format=auto/https://www.1843magazine.com/sites/default/files/styles/il_manual_crop_16_9/public/1843_20210310_ASMA-ASSAD_001.jpg 360w, https://www.economist.com/cdn-cgi/image/width=384,quality=80,format=auto/https://www.1843magazine.com/sites/default/file... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"The Economist"
] | 2021-03-10T00:00:00 | How a girl from west London became the unlikely winner of Syria’s war | 1843 magazine | en | /favicon.ico | The Economist | https://www.economist.com/1843/2021/03/10/banker-princess-warlord-the-many-lives-of-asma-assad | By Nicolas Pelham
Last summer a photograph of Syria’s First Lady circulated on social media. At the time, government troops in north-west Syria were battering the last pockets of rebel resistance to the regime. The picture showed Asma Assad, her husband Bashar al-Assad and their three children standing on a wind-swept hilltop, flanked by soldiers in camouflage. Bashar, dressed in an anorak, trainers and an untucked polo shirt, looks more suited to corralling the kids for a Sunday walk than torturing dissidents. Asma stands more stiffly, arms by her sides, wearing white jeans, trainers and the kind of aviator sunglasses beloved of Middle Eastern strongmen. She is at the centre of the photo; Bashar, president of Syria, hangs awkwardly at her shoulder. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 72 | https://www.typeinvestigations.org/investigation/2013/02/11/seven-days-syria/ | en | Seven Days in Syria | [
"https://www.typeinvestigations.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/TypeLogoWhite.svg",
"https://www.typeinvestigations.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/12/TypeInvestigationsLogoRetina.png",
"https://www.typeinvestigations.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/TypeLogoWhite.svg",
"https://www.typeinvestigations.org/wp-content... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Janine di Giovanni"
] | 2013-02-11T00:00:00 | en | Type Investigations | https://www.typeinvestigations.org/investigation/2013/02/11/seven-days-syria/ | 1. Hossam
When my son was born, I was unable to cut his nails. It was a visceral rather than rational reaction. I would pick up the tiny baby scissors, look at his translucent fingers, clean and pink as a seashell, and feel as though I would retch.
One night, in the hours between darkness and light, the time when the subconscious allows the source of such neurosis to become clear, I understood my inability to perform such a straightforward task. I had a vision of the Iraqi man I once knew who had no fingernails.
In the dying days of the Saddam regime, I had an office inside the Ministry of Information. It was a sinister, paranoid place. Journalists begged, bribed and pleaded to stay inside the country to report. We were followed, videotaped; our phones were tapped.We all knew that our hotel rooms were equipped with hidden cameras. I dressed and undressed in the darkened bathroom.
Every Monday morning, the man with no fingernails arrived in my office and stretched out his hands, utterly unselfconscious that in place of nails were bloody raw beds of flesh. He had come for his weekly baksheesh. His job was to get the money to seal my satellite phone so I could not use it unless the Ministry watched me. Most of us had to pay our way to get anything done, and aside from the fee the Ministry charged we gave a baksheesh to get it done faster.
Every time the man arrived and I looked at his hands spread out, I immediately felt a wave of panic which turned to nausea and yet I could not take my eyes off the place where his fingernails had been ripped off. Questions that I could not ask him raced through my mind.What had he done to deserve such agony? Was he an informer? had he tried to escape Iraq and been caught.Was he part of the secret network attempting to overthrow the dictator? I never asked. Nor would he have answered.We were living in a republic of fear. He became one of those shadowy fixtures one holds in one’s mind forever, hovering in the fringes.
The man, whose name I never knew, seemed to bear no resentment that he had been disfigured in such a public way. Because hands are one of the first things we usually notice about someone, every time he stretched out his, one knew immediately he had done something.
Or perhaps he had done nothing at all. Perhaps it was all a horrible mistake. Such things happened all the time under dictatorships. People get locked up for years, forgotten about, then the key turns and a jailer says, ‘You can go now.’ They never know why.
The day Saddam’s regime fell, in the feverish chaos, I went to search for the man with no fingernails to open the seal so I could use my sat phone. But he, like most of the regime staff, had fled.
I went back to Iraq many times after that, but I never saw the man with no fingernails again — except in my dreams.
In northern Lebanon, in a town now inhabited by the Free Syrian Army (FSA) and many fighters who are recovering from severe injuries, I pass a man in the hallway of a small rehabilitation hospital who recently had had twenty-nine bullets removed from his body. Then I meet a paralyzed man strapped to a board who is playing with a child — an orphaned child.The man had been badly beaten and left with a fractured spinal cord.
“Every time they hit me,” he said, “they screamed, ‘You want freedom? OK take this! Here is your great freedom!'”
Then I meet a man I am going to call Hossam, a student of human rights law, who sits on a bed trying to re-enter the human race.
He is twenty-four years old and dressed in baggy dark trousers, a T-shirt, and has a full beard and a shy but gentle demeanour. He keeps trying to buy me packs of Winston cigarettes, but I keep refusing, and he keeps insisting, gently, that he must give me a gift. On his hands and arms I see cigarette burns that I know are not self-inflicted.
On another bed, pushed against a wall, a fourteen-year-old boy sits and listens.When I suggest he leave the room for the interview, which I know is going to be painful, the boy explains that his father was killed in front of him, so he can take whatever else is about to come.
Hossam is Sunni and religious, but he still shakes my hand and gets off his bed, limping, to get me a chair. He tells me that he comes from an educated family; his father a civil servant, his brothers all university-educated.
Then he begins to tell his story without words. Slowly he removes his T-shirt. A thick, angry scar that begins under his mid-breastbone swims down to the proximity of his groin. He sighs, lights a cigarette and starts to talk in a low voice.
Hossam comes from Baba Amr, the district of Homs, Syria’s third-largest city, which became an icon for the suffering of civilians when it got pummelled and overrun by Syrian government troops and paramilitary units beginning in December 2011. He admits that he was one of the organizers of the at first peaceful demonstrations against the government, but denies that he is a member of the FSA.
‘It was about freedom and rights at first,’ he says. ‘Then came bullets.’
On 8 March 2012 at about 7.30 p.m., there were shouts outside the door of his family home. He heard men speaking a foreign language that he believes may have been Farsi. At first he refused to open the door. ‘I said, “We are civilians! We have rights!”‘
But the soldiers — who he said were not wearing uniforms, meaning they could have been paramilitary — fired intimidating shots, and his brother opened the door.The men shot the young man through the chest at close range, and the force of the bullet pushed him against a far wall where he fell, dying.
They swarmed into the house like bees. Hossam thinks there were about thirty of them. They shot Hossam in the shoulder and in the hand as he tried to cover his face for protection from the blow he thought was coming. He holds up his deformed fingers, and touches the angry red circle on his shoulder blade.The impact of the bullet made Hossam reel backwards, and he ended up lying next to his dying brother, looking him straight in the eye.
‘I was watching the life go out of him,’ he says quietly.
The men then picked him and his brother up by their feet and hands and hauled them, along with several dozen men from the neighbourhood, to a truck and threw them in, one on top of the other. They said they were going to use them as human shields. Some of the men in the truck were already dead, many were badly beaten and lay groaning in agony. Others had been shot.
‘One guard pulled a man up by his ear and said, “Say Bashar al-Assad is your God.” The man replied, “I have no God but God,” and the guard shot him and tossed him onto the pile of bodies.’
Hossam was bleeding but his brother was closer to death. They took all of them off the truck when they reached the military hospital, and the minute they closed the doors, they began to beat Hossam brutally with sticks of plastic and wood.
Hossam’s brother and the other men were flung into an underground room that served as a morgue. This was the same room where, from then on, Hossam was thrown every night to sleep after he was tortured, on top of the dead bodies. He described how he would lie awake listening to people breathing their last breath.
On the first day, Hossam’s torturers, who were Syrian and told him they were doctors, brought him to something like an operating room.There were about four of them.They strapped him down.
‘Are you a fighter?’
‘No, I’m a student.’
‘Are you a fighter?’
They held his penis and took a blade and said, ‘OK, cut it off.’
They pressed the blade into his flesh, enough to draw blood, then began leaning painfully on his bladder, forcing him to urinate.
‘Why do you want to kill me?’ Hossam asked.
‘Because your people are killing us,’ he was told.
Then they electrocuted him. This went on for three days. Beatings, burnings, cuttings. The worst, he says, was ‘the cutting’.
‘They came for me. I lay down on a table and closed my eyes. I saw them cut my gut with a scalpel.’ He tells me that he must have been in shock because the pain did not seem to reach his brain. ‘Then they lifted something out of my body — I felt pulling. It was my intestine. They stretched it. They held it in their hands and laid it on the outside of my body. They made jokes about how much the rebels ate, how much food was inside my intestines. Then they sewed me back up, but in a rough way so that there was skin and blood everywhere.’
He tells me his stomach was ‘open’ for two days before they properly stitched the wound closed.
The next day the torturers — who clearly must have had medical knowledge — punctured Hossam’s lung. They cut an incision that runs from under his nipple to the middle of his back.They inserted what he described as a small plastic suction tube.
‘I felt the air go out of my lung,’ he says quietly. ‘My right lung had collapsed. I could not breathe.’
Hossam is alive only because on the third day of his torture he was left hanging upside down for nearly five hours. He tells me how he was ‘used as a punchbag by nearly everyone that went by as a way of having fun’, until, later that day, when it was quiet, a doctor suddenly knelt before him.
He whispered, ‘My job is to make sure that you are still alive and can sustain more torture. But I can’t watch this any more.’ The doctor shook his head.
‘Your heart has technically stopped twice, once for ten seconds and once for fifteen.’ He leaned forward and opened a notebook.
‘I am going to close your file and write that on the second attempt to revive you, I failed. Do you understand what I am saying? You are dead.’
As the doctor walked away, he said, ‘If Allah intends you to live, you will find a way to get out of here.’
It took several minutes for Hossam to understand what the doctor meant. He was giving him a chance to escape, to live. The doctor ordered that Hossam be taken down from his ropes, and he was tossed back into the morgue. As he lay there, he thought of his dead brother, somewhere under the pile of bodies.
Hossam’s story is so grisly that, in spite of his obvious wounds, part of me, a small part of me, wonders if it can be true. How can someone actually survive such treatment? This is what torture also does. In its worst form, it makes us doubt the victims.
After an hour among the dead, in pain so brutal that he could think of nothing but the blood coursing through his ears, a nurse came into the room. She whispered that she had been paid by the FSA to bring out any men who were still alive. She told Hossam to follow her instructions carefully: she would give him a Syrian government uniform, and a number, which he must memorize. She made him say it twice. He mumbled that he could stand no more, and she gave him an injection of painkiller. Then, she gently lifted him up and helped him put on the uniform.
With his arm around the nurse for support, they walked out of the courtyard of the military hospital. It took twenty minutes to walk a few feet; but he tells me that it felt like days. A guard asked him for his serial number. He gave the number the nurse had rehearsed with him while she looked on nervously.
At the gate, a car was waiting. It was someone sent by the FSA. They opened the door and the nurse helped him in and turned away without looking back.
He was free.
2. Daraya
Daraya, a suburb seven kilometres south-west of Damascus, was once known for its handmade wooden furniture. It is also allegedly the place where Saul had a vision of God, became a believer and apostle and headed for Damascus.
In August 2012, more than 300 people, including women and children, were killed — the town was ‘cleansed’. It marked a turning point in the war. I was driven by a Sunni resident, Maryam (not her real name), and we passed easily through the government military checkpoints manned by young boys with stubble and Kalashnikovs who looked as though they would be more comfortable in discos than in this war zone.
Maryam’s family came from Daraya, but they had been at their holiday home near the coast when the massacre took place between 23 and 25 August. As we drove, she took in the destruction with a certain sangfroid, but it was clear that she was shocked. She had not yet decided if she supported the government or the rebels. But as an open-minded, educated woman, she wanted to see for herself what was happening in her country.
The government line was that the massacre was a prisoner exchange gone wrong; the FSA said it was an attack and cleansing operation.
‘Syrians could not do this to other Syrians,’ she said, her voice shaking. It appeared as though the government tanks had rolled right through the centre of town, destroying everything in sight, crushing the street lights, the houses, even the graveyard walls.
There were shattered windows and glass everywhere and I saw a lone cyclist with a cardboard box of tinned groceries strapped to a rack over his back wheel. But there were no other civilians on the streets.The buildings appeared crushed like accordions; it looked as though people had either hidden or run away as fast as they could.
The Syrian opposition was giving figures as high as 2,500 massacred, but the local people I managed to find told me the number was closer to 1,000 people killed, mainly men and boys.
One month on, there are still no clear figures, but the number 330 is usually quoted. But everywhere I went that day in Daraya, I encountered the distinctive smell of the dead decaying.
I met one of the witnesses, a man who had just been released after six months in prison. His crime? There were often demonstrations in the streets. But this man said he wasn’t even at a demonstration when he was arrested.
‘They picked up the wrong guy and forgot about me.’ He had been led outside in the prison yard, naked but for his underwear in the freezing winter cold, doused with icy water, then left hanging from ropes for hours and beaten. But somehow, he survived.
After a while, Maryam and I went to look for the gravedigger to see if he could give us a count of the dead. There was a crowd of people gathered who were reading a sign put up by desperate families — a list of the missing.They told us that they came every day to see if they could find their loved ones. One man told me he had been looking for his elderly father for three days before finally finding his body decaying in the heat on a farm outside Daraya, along with the bodies of several young men.
‘But why kill an old man? Why?’ Then he said what I kept hearing, over and over on this trip: ‘Syrians cannot do this to other Syrians.’
3. The Balloon Has Not Yet Burst
My first trip to Syria was in the stifling heat of summer. I arrived in a local taxi from Beirut.The first thing I saw once I crossed the border was the enormous colour portrait of the leader, common to all autocratic regimes. This was of the youthful, triangular face of Bashar al-Assad.
The second thing that attracted my attention was a Dunkin’ Donuts, which seemed odd, even in a sophisticated country like Syria. I was aware I was entering what has been called the second most dangerous regime next to North Korea, so I was shocked to see such an American symbol. It’s the kind of thing one would expect to find on a US airbase in Kandahar, for example, with well-fed American soldiers, rather than skinny, suspicious-looking Syrians, lined up to buy pink-sprinkled donuts.
As it turned out, the Dunkin’ Donuts was a fake. It only sold toasted cheese sandwiches. I bought one, watched all the while by three men with moustaches, smoking cigarettes — clearly Mukhābarāt, the infamous Secret Police.
In Damascus, people whisper when out in public. When a waiter arrives at a table, people stop talking. The Mukhābarāt are often so obvious that they could have come straight from central casting. They could easily have been the same men who followed me in Iraq a decade before — the same cheap leather jackets, the same badly trimmed, downward-turned moustaches.
I had come to Syria because I wanted to see the country before it tumbled down the rabbit hole of war. That first trip in June 2012, Syria was on the brink. I checked into a hotel where the United Nations military observers who were there to monitor Kofi Annan’s six-point plan in an attempt to bring peace — glum-faced men who were no longer allowed to operate because they had been shot at too often — sat drinking coffee after coffee and making jokes about the Russian hooker bar downstairs.
One Thursday — the start of the Muslim weekend — I came in after an exhausting day of talking to people who were uncertain whether or not their country would exist in a year or two. They were Christians, but liberal. They did not support the government’s crushing of peaceful protests at the beginning of the uprising; on the other hand, they were terrified of what was coming next.
‘Jihadists?’ they asked. ‘Salifists?’ This is what everyone was worried about, what everyone claimed to distrust: ‘Who’s next?’ Syria, like Bosnia, is multi-ethnic: home to generations of Greek Orthodox, Christians, Sunni Kurds, Shias, Alawites and even a residual population of Jews — ‘a melting pot’, as the foreign minister’s spokesperson, Jihad Makdissi, a Christian with an Islamic name, has called it. But for how much longer was that melting pot going to hold?
To get the weekend going, the hotel sponsored a pool party that looked to me, with the smoke rising in the background from shelling in the southern suburbs, like a re-enactment of Sodom and Gomorrah.
A half-dressed Russian woman danced onstage by the pool, gyrating her skinny hips.Voluptuous wealthy Syrian ladies — all teased hair, glossy lips and silicone-enhanced bosoms — strutted in bikinis and high heels. Men also wore the briefest of swimming trunks and drank what the Levants call ‘Mexican beer’ — Lebanese beer served with a slice of lime in a salt-rimmed glass.
The party was obscene in a city that was verging on civil war. I stood on my balcony and watched this denial of the drum roll of impending carnage.These people’s lives were falling apart. But the balloon had not yet burst.
4. The Believers
For two weeks running, I witnessed the fevered hedonism of the Thursday-afternoon pool parties at the Dama Rose Hotel. The first week was like every other. The hairdresser’s were full of ladies of leisure getting hair extensions, mani/pedis and false eyelashes. The roads were clogged with luxury cars heading outside the city to amusement parks — the ones that were still open — en route to country villas for parties, weekend picnics or dinners. Restaurants such as Naranj, which takes up nearly half a block in the Old City and serves traditional Arabic food to the elite, were packed.
But what was unusual about the Dama Rose pool parties was that they were taking place in a hotel that was, ironically, also home to those 300 frustrated United Nations soldiers from fifty different countries who had been brought in to monitor the situation.
From 14 June onwards, when their operations were suspended because it became too dangerous for them to work — their convoys had been attacked, shot at and harassed — the men sat around in the hotel lobby, looking bored, just like the Mukhābarāt.
The blasting house music wafted up to the third floor where Major General Robert Mood, who was then head of the UN Supervision Mission in Syria, tried to negotiate ceasefires, and where his civilian staff shut the windows, put their heads in their hands and wondered what the hell was going to happen to their mission. It would be suspended a few weeks later and Syria would be added to the long list of United Nations failures.
That first week, people danced around to a pumped-up version of Adele’s ‘Someone LikeYou’, but by the second week, there was an air of sombre reflection to the party. People drank, the house music blared, the UN staff complained about the noise, but the Russian dancer was gone. And this week, people left early, rushing to their 4x4s with distinctly worried looks on their faces.
In the distance, beyond the pool, towards the al-Marjeh neighbourhood, just across from the Justice Courts, there was a larger curl of smoke: two car bombs had exploded earlier that day in the centre of Damascus.
I had left town that morning to visit a remote convent where pro- government — meaning those who support the regime of President Bashar al-Assad — nuns made apricot jam and spent their days praying to the relics of Takla, an ancient Christian saint.
Takla had been an early convert of St Paul,who was running from the Romans when she found herself facing an enormous mountain. Miraculously, the mountain opened to let her pass and make her escape. Syrians and others from all over the Middle East came to be healed at the place of that miracle.
Like many people who support Assad, the Greek Orthodox nuns feared a fundamentalist Islamic regime in their country. I sat with one sister who wore an old-fashioned wimple and served me sugared coffee and biscuits. She spoke Aramaic, the ancient language of Christ, and vehemently defended the regime.
The nuns would not believe that Syrians could massacre each other, she said. When I pointed out that earlier in the summer the United Nations had released a report pointing a finger at the Assad regime for the massacre of civilians at al-Houla, she ignored me, asking a younger nun to bring in a plate of sugared apricots.
This was the same week that the offices of a pro-government television station had been bombed and a firefight had broken out between opposition and pro-government forces. And yet, in Maaloula where the convent was situated, in this village that lay on the road between Damascus and Homs, I felt an unexpected sense of peace.
I remember thinking this would be a good place to hide if full- scale war broke out, and I slipped away from the nuns to explore the convent. Downstairs, the nuns slept in monastic cells, which looked out over the mountains where St Takla had fled. In the courtyard, I saw Syrian couples who had come here to pray for fertility or for the healing of various ailments: you went into a candlelit cave and held a wooden foot, or stomach, or arm, or whatever part of the body ailed you, and prayed to St Takla.
The sun bore down on the car on the road back, and in contrast to the cool convent with its sense of hushed protection, the Damascus bomb site stank of burned rubber. Skeletons of charred cars remained. It was a miracle that no one had been hurt by these explosions caused by ‘sticky bombs’ — handmade bombs taped to the bottom of a car at the height of rush hour, just across from the Justice Courts.
‘Real amateur hour,’ one UN official said to me later. ‘The bombers didn’t know what they were doing — it’s just a scare tactic to make the people hate the opposition.’
And it worked. People blamed the opposition and ‘foreign interventionists’ for the explosions. Crowds of people gathered, angry that their city was quickly falling victim to the devastation that was spreading across the country.
‘Our only friend is Russia!’ one well-dressed man shouted, his face contorted with rage. ‘These are foreigners that are exploding our country! Syria is for Syrians!’
It is a common belief that the bombs and the chaos spreading throughout the country are being caused by a ‘third element’. Especially in Damascus, which has long been an Assad stronghold, people refuse to believe that the opposition will rule their country without turning it into a fundamentalist Muslim state.
Damascus has many faces. There are the opposition activists who are working night and day to bring down Assad, the ones who meet me in secret. Sometimes, when I return to my home in Paris, I hear news through the grapevine that they have disappeared.These are the ones who risk going to jail for up to forty-five days without charge. Even peaceful protesters have been thrown in jail simply for demonstrating.Their families are not told of their whereabouts.
Twice I visited the Damascus Opera House — the second- grandest in the Middle East, in this city named by UNESCO in 2008 as the Arab Capital of Culture.
‘I do not want to give the impression that we are like the Titanic — the orchestra plays on while the ship sinks,’ explained one classical musician. We were sitting in her office and she motioned overhead, meaning the room was probably bugged.
On another visit, I went to see the Children’s Orchestra practising, led by a visiting British conductor. When I mentioned that he was brave to be there, he said, with a worried look, ‘Should I get out soon? How long do you give it before all-out war?’
I reassured him, but in fact, I thought, the country was already in a full-scale, if guerrilla, war.
Some of the musicians were very young — around eight — with tiny hands holding their instruments, but others looked like teenage kids anywhere — Brazilian surfing bracelets, baggy jeans, long flowing hair. They practised the incredibly touching song of innocence, ‘Evening Prayer’, from Humperdinck’s Hansel and Gretel.
I sat for a good while watching the fresh young faces of the children intently reading the musical scores and holding their instruments with care, and wondered what this room would look like if I returned at exactly this time next year. How many of these boys would be sent to mandatory military service? How many would flee the country? I tried not to think about whether any would no longer be living.
Maria Saadeh (Arabic for ‘happiness’) lives in Star Square in the old French mandate section of Damascus, in a 1920s building that she helped renovate. A restoration architect by training (educated in Syria and France), she was recently elected, without any experience, as the only Christian independent female parliamentarian.
The Christians are frightened. On Sundays during my stay, I go to their churches — Eastern Christian or Orthodox — and watch them kneel and pray, smell the intense wax of the candles and see the fear on their faces. Will we be wiped out?
The Christian minority fears that if a new government — and perhaps a Muslim fundamentalist one — takes over, they will be cleared off the face of Syria, off the face of the Middle East, the way the Armenians were driven out of Turkey and massacred in 1914.
‘Christians to Beirut, Alawites to the coffin,’ is one of the chants of the more radical opposition members.
Maria seems confident for the moment. She sits on her roof terrace in a chic apartment building, her two adorable children, Perla and Roland, peeking their heads through the windows and a Filipina maid serving tea. It could be an ordinary day in peacetime — except that, earlier that day, in another Damascus neighbourhood, there was a car bomb and no one yet knows the number of people killed.
Earlier in the week, I had gone to a private Saturday-night piano and violin concert where the director-general of the Opera House, an elegant woman of mixed European and Syrian background, performed Bach, Gluck and Beethoven.
The concert was held at the Art House, an elegant boutique hotel built on the site of an old mill that has water streaming over glass panels on parts of the floor. The audience was sophisticated. There were women in spiky heels and strapless black evening gowns mingling with artistic-looking bohemian men in sandals and casual chinos, and their children.
Everyone rose at the beginning of the concert to pay homage to the ‘war dead’ with a minute of silence. The violinist wore a strapless red silk dress and high heels, and received a standing ovation. Afterwards, the audience filed out to an open-air restaurant where champagne was served. I overheard several people talking in hushed voices about what had happened around the city that day: explosions, fighting near the suburbs.
‘A symphony,’ one man said, toasting hopefully with his glass of champagne, ‘that we will live through for the next few years.’
5. Firis
One steaming Saturday morning, I drove to the neighbourhood of Berzah, which is a toehold of the opposition inside Damascus. There are frequent protests here, and the government soldiers crack down with arrests, shootings, injuries and deaths. Berzah is known as one of the ‘hot spots’: areas around Damascus where it is evident that the war is now creeping closer. Douma, where dozens of people were killed in one day in July, is another hot spot.These days the hot spots are engulfing Damascus.
Berzah is also the site of the government-run Tishreen military hospital. One morning, I go to a funeral for fifty soldiers, all killed fighting for Assad. I watch silently as men load the mangled bodies — disfigured and broken by car bombs, IEDs, bullets and shrapnel — into simple wooden coffins, which are then secured with nails before being draped with Syrian flags. The men then march with the coffins, in full military style, to the sound of a marching band, into a courtyard, where families and members of their regiment wait, many of them weeping. It is an acute reminder of how hard Assad’s forces are getting hit by the opposition, who are resorting more and more to guerrilla tactics. A senior official at the hospital, who refuses to give his name, says that 105 soldiers are dying every week.
Upstairs, on the seventh floor of the hospital, a thirty-year-old major lies under a sheet, his right leg and arm missing. At the end of May, Firis Jabr was in a battle in Homs where he says he was ambushed and gravely injured by ‘foreign fighters: Libyans, Lebanese, Yemeni’.
Despite the fact that he is now missing nearly half his body, and his anxious fiancée is standing attentively near his bed, Firis, who is Alawite — an offshoot of the Shia religion to which the Assad clan and many of his followers belong — has a huge smile on his face. He introduces me to his mother, whom he calls ‘Mama’ when I ask her name, and she makes us coffee from a small hotplate in the corner of the room. She serves Arabic pastries with pistachios. She tells me that she is a widow and Firis is her eldest son.
Like nearly all the government supporters I meet, Firis says that he believes in Assad and will continue to fight, as soon as he is fitted with his prosthetics.
‘I have two loves,’ he tells me, trying to lift himself up with his useless side, ‘my fiancée and Syria.’
Later I meet a Syrian friend for tea. She shakes her head sadly when I tell her about Firis.
‘It has started,’ she whispers sadly. ‘The beginning of the end of what was Syria.’
6. Among the Alawites
On my second trip to Syria, a little more than a month later, I felt I was in a different country. The evolving war had become a real war. The faux light-heartedness that had existed — like a balloon — had been popped. Four men in Assad’s closest circle had been assassinated, probably with the help of FSA members who had infiltrated the government. People were expecting the fall of Damascus, or worse. There was heavy fighting in other parts of Syria — in Idlib, Aleppo and in the suburbs of Damascus.
I was told by a local reporter that 2,000 people had fled the capital alone. Refugees were flooding the Turkish, Jordanian and Lebanese borders.There were fears for the winter.
The Dama Rose Hotel pool parties had halted. The UN had been pulled out except for a skeleton staff; one night I watched a strange karaoke evening — an attempt to be jolly in a miserable place — in the bar. I sat smoking a narghile — a water pipe — and listened to shelling coming from inside Damascus.
I went back to Homs to see some of my Syrian friend Maryam’s relatives, and had lunch with her family. Everyone ate quietly while we heard the shelling emanating from a nearby government base. Then, while the older ladies rested on sofas for their after-meal repose, I spoke quietly to the men, asking if they were frightened.
Many people had left, they told me, or were leaving, and they pointed in the direction of the sound of the shelling: ‘This is the background music of our lives.’
The next day, we drove towards Latakia, in the Alawite heartland, to see the mausoleum of Hafez al-Assad, the father of Bashar, who had been president from 1971 until his death in 2000. I drove down with Maryam and her husband, passing through checkpoint after checkpoint, and as we got closer to Qardaha, where Assad is buried, there were stone lions everywhere — assad means ‘lion’ in Arabic and it’s the name Bashar’s grandfather had adopted.
Maryam, who wears a hijab, said, ‘We are in the land of Alawites now.’ She paused. ‘I feel uncomfortable.’
But at the Assad family mausoleum, the guards — young men in sombre blue suits — were friendly; shocked, even, to see a foreigner. They gave me tea and escorted me inside to the green-covered graves where Hafez and two of his sons are buried. They said Hafez had been the first Alawite to go to high school. The air was heavy with the scent of roses and incense. I looked at an empty corner and wondered if the current president, Bashar, was going to find his place there, sooner rather than later.
‘We may never see this again,’ Maryam’s husband said as we left, passing another lion. ‘If the regime crumbles, the opposition will tear this place down to the ground.’
When we left, we climbed higher into the green Jibal al-Alawiyin mountains and stopped to eat at a roadside restaurant. A river rushed below us. The waiter was blue-eyed — many Arabs in the Levant are, but in particular Alawites — and said he had moved to Latakia when he was a child. As an Alawite he constantly felt marginalized: even as part of the minority that controlled the country. Seventy-four percent of the country are Sunni Muslims, yet the Alawites control most of the government jobs and postings.
‘The Europeans don’t understand us,’ the waiter said as he brought platters of barbecued chicken and bottles of beer. ‘As Syrians, we are all losing so much.’
At another table, two Alawite businessmen offered us rakija, a form of brandy made with anise, and came to join our table.We spoke openly of politics, but when I mentioned the regime’s reputation for torture and detention, there was visible stiffening.
‘That does not happen,’ one of the businessmen said. ‘It’s propaganda.’
Then the men excused themselves politely and left; Maryam was embarrassed.
‘You should not have asked that,’ she remonstrated quietly.
‘But it’s true,’ I said.
She turned her face away, and in a cloud of narghile smoke replied, ‘Syrians cannot bear that we are doing this to each other. Once we had a common enemy — Israel. Now we are each other’s enemy.’
7.The Shabaab
The war had come to Damascus — hit-and-run operations by the opposition; bombings in defence of their minute strongholds. The government, which has tanks and aircraft, kept to the high ground and pummelled opposition fighters from above. The FSA are said to be armed by Qatar, Saudi Arabia and to some extent by the United States, but when you see the fighters — the shabaab, the guys — you see what they need is anti-tank weapons and anti-aircraft guns. They have none. Their weapons are old. Their uniforms are shabby. They fight wearing trainers.
Zabadani, a town close to the Lebanese border on the old smugglers’ route, had once been a tourist attraction but is now empty except for government gunners on the hills and FSA fighters in the centre of town. Before the war, the town was more or less a model community: mainly populated by Sunnis but a friendly place where people were welcomed, and where ethnicity and religion did not matter.
‘There is a feeling of belonging in Zabadani that the regime deprived us of,’ said Mohammed, a young journalist I had met in Beirut who was born and raised in Zabadani, but who had been forced to flee. ‘We felt Syrian. Not any ethnic or religious denomination.’
I crowded into a courtyard of an old building in town, which was protected from shelling on all sides, with a group of fighters on what they counted as the fifty-second day of straight shelling in Zabadani. They did the universal thing soldiers do when they wait for the next attack: drink tea, smoke cigarettes and complain.
‘What did you do in your former life?’ I asked this ragtag bunch.
One was a mason; another a truck driver; another a teacher; another a smuggler. Thirty years ago, the roads from Damascus to Zabadani were infamous for smuggling.
‘You could buy real Lacoste T-shirts, anything, for the cheapest price.’ Everyone laughed. Then there was the sound of machine-gun fire and the smiles disappeared.
At the Zabadani triage hospital, which keeps getting moved because it keeps getting targeted and blown up, the sole doctor was stitching up a soldier who had been hit in a mortar attack. The current hospital location had been a furniture shop and was well hidden in the winding streets of the Old City, which had been taken over by the FSA. As the doctor stitched in the dark, he talked: ‘Both sides feel demoralized now,’ he said. ‘But both sides said after Daraya’ — referring to the massacre — ‘there is no going back.’
The doctor insisted on taking me back to his house and giving me a medical kit for my safe keeping. ‘You need it,’ he said. As I left, his wife gave me three freshly washed pears.
‘The symbol of Zabadani,’ said the doctor. ‘They used to be the sweetest thing.’
There are no templates for war — the only thing that is the same from Vietnam to East Timor to Sierra Leone is the agony it creates. Syria reminds me of Bosnia: the abuse, the torture, the ethnic cleansing and the fighting among former neighbours. And the sorrow of war too is universal — the inevitable end of a life that one knows and holds dear, and the beginning of pain and loss.
War is this: the end of the daily routine — walking children to schools that are now closed; the morning coffee in the same cafe, now empty with shattered glass; the friends and family who have fled to uncertain futures. The constant, gnawing fear in the pit of one’s stomach that the door is going to be kicked in and you will be dragged away.
I returned to Paris after that second trip, and thought often of a small child I met in Homs, with whom I had passed a gentle afternoon. At night, the sniping started and his grandmother began to cry with fear that a foreigner was in the house, and she made me leave in the dark.
I did not blame her. She did not want to die. She did not want to get raided by the Mukhābarāt for harbouring a foreign reporter.
The boy had been inside for some months and he was bored: he missed his friends; he missed the life that had ended for him when the protests began.
For entertainment, he watched, over and over, the single video in the house, Home Alone — like Groundhog Day, waiting for normality to return so he could go out and play, find the school friends who months ago had been sent to Beirut or London or Paris to escape the war, and resume his lessons.
‘When will it end?’ he asked earnestly. For children, there must always be a time sequence, an order, for their stability. I know this as a mother. My son is confused by whether he sleeps at his father’s apartment or his mother’s and who is picking him up from school.
‘And Wednesday is how many days away?’ he always asks me. ‘And Christmas is how many months? And when is summer?’
‘So when is the war over?’ this little boy asked me.
‘Soon,’ I said, knowing that I was lying.
I knelt down and took his tiny face in my hands. ‘I don’t know when, but it will end,’ I said. I kissed his cheek goodbye. ‘Everything is going to be fine.’
This story was reported in partnership with The Investigative Fund at The Nation Institute, now known as Type Investigations. | ||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 84 | https://mesana.org/partner-organizations/syrian-studies-association-ssa | en | Middle East Studies Association | [
"https://mesana.org/imgs/MESA-Logo-Standard@1x.png",
"https://mesana.org/imgs/MESA-Logo-Inverted@2x.png"
] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | en | Middle East Studies Association | null | Syrian Studies Association (SSA)
The Syrian Studies Association is an international association organized to encourage and promote research and scholarly understanding of Syria in all periods and in all academic disciplines. The SSA is a non-profit, non-political association affiliated with MESA (The Middle East Studies Association of North America). Their goals are to promote the highest standards of scholarship and instruction, facilitate communication among our members, and to encourage dialogue between Middle Eastern, Western and all scholars of the Middle East. They award several prizes for the best written work on Syria, publish a newsletter about the latest developments and writing in our field, invite one or more Syrian scholars to MESA each year, sponsor academic panels at scholarly conferences, and provide information about how to study Arabic in Syria.
President: Edith Szanto
Membership - Annual Dues
Regular: $25
Student: $10
Institutional: $100 | ||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 27 | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anisa_Makhlouf | en | Anisa Makhlouf | [
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/icons/wikipedia.png",
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/mobile/copyright/wikipedia-wordmark-en.svg",
"https://en.wikipedia.org/static/images/mobile/copyright/wikipedia-tagline-en.svg",
"https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/a7/Anisa_Makhlouf.jpg",
"ht... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Contributors to Wikimedia projects"
] | 2013-01-10T00:21:32+00:00 | en | /static/apple-touch/wikipedia.png | https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anisa_Makhlouf | Former first lady of Syria
Anisa Makhlouf (Arabic: أَنِيسَةُ مَخْلُوفٍ, romanized: ʾAnīsah Maḵlūf, 5 November 1930 – 6 February 2016)[1] was the matriarch of the Syrian Al-Assad family, which has ruled the country since 1971. The wife of the late Syrian President Hafez al-Assad, Makhlouf held the position of First Lady of Syria from 1971 until 2000. Her son Bashar al-Assad has been the President of Syria since 2000.[2][3][4]
Makhlouf was born in Latakia, Syria, to the Makhloufs, an influential family from Bustan al-Basha, Latakia Governorate.[2][3][5] She was the daughter of Ahmed Makhlouf and Saada Sulayman al-Assad, Hafez al-Assad's aunt.[6]
She married Hafez al-Assad, an officer of the Syrian Arab Air Force, in 1957.[2] They had five children: Bushra (b. 1960), Bassel al-Assad (1962–1994), Bashar al-Assad (b. 1965), Majd al-Assad (1966–2009), and Maher al-Assad (b. 1967). Her marriage to Hafez al-Assad elevated the status and wealth of the Makhlouf family.[7] Her relatives were awarded lucrative contracts within the country's banking, oil and telecommunication sectors.[7] One nephew, Rami Makhlouf, is believed to be the wealthiest man in Syria, with a net worth of US$5 billion, as of 2012.[7]
According to the Tlass family, Hafez was never particularly fond of the staid and withdrawn Anisa, and had seriously considered divorcing her, or having a second wife used to entertain world leaders. One whose company he enjoyed more than Anisa was the more outgoing and affable Lamia Tlass, wife of Mustafa Tlass, who was also considering divorce due to his repeated infidelity.
Following the death of Bassel al-Assad in 1994, Makhlouf favoured Maher al-Assad, her youngest son and a Syrian general, as a possible successor for her husband.[4] Instead, Bashar al-Assad returned from London, joined the military, and succeeded his father as President of Syria in 2000.[4]
The Economist described Anisa Makhlouf as "a formidable figure" within the al-Assad family and the Ba'athist government.[3] A highly influential member of the government, she was one of the few people with whom Bashar al-Assad regularly consulted during the Syrian Civil War.[3][7] She is believed to have advocated for a heavy, military crackdown on Syrian protesters and rebels during the ongoing Civil War.[3]
In 2012, Makhlouf, as well as other members of the Al-Assad family, were sanctioned by the European Union amid the country's civil war and attacks on protesters by the Syrian government.[2]
The EU sanctions included a travel ban and the freezing of her assets.[2] Prior to the travel ban, she had reportedly made frequent trips to Germany for medical treatments for an undisclosed illness.[2][3][9]
Anisa Makhlouf died in Damascus on 6 February 2016 from undisclosed causes.[10]
Biography portal
Politics portal | ||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 25 | https://newrepublic.com/article/115993/bashar-al-assad-profile-syrias-mass-murderer | en | Bashar Al Assad: An Intimate Profile of a Mass Murderer | [
"https://images.newrepublic.com/3c3c416f2e5562347c36fa22e2eba6c743c2fc48.jpeg?auto=format&fit=crop&crop=faces&q=65&w=1000&h=undefined&ar=3%3A2&ixlib=react-9.0.2&w=1000"
] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Annia Ciezadlo"
] | 2013-12-19T00:00:00 | In 1982, not long after his father's military pulverized a town called Hama, Bashar Al Assad got a jet ski.It was the tail end of one of the bloodiest periods in Syrian history—what one intellectual called “the hunting time.” In Damascus, a white Peugeot 504 idled on every other corner with mukhabarat, or secret police, inside. Corruption and smuggling were ubiquitous; at least 30 percent of the c... | en | //assets.newrepublic.com/assets/favicons/apple-touch-icon-57x57.png | The New Republic | https://newrepublic.com/article/115993/bashar-al-assad-profile-syrias-mass-murderer | In 1982, not long after his father's military pulverized a town called Hama, Bashar Al Assad got a jet ski.
It was the tail end of one of the bloodiest periods in Syrian history—what one intellectual called “the hunting time.” In Damascus, a white Peugeot 504 idled on every other corner with mukhabarat, or secret police, inside. Corruption and smuggling were ubiquitous; at least 30 percent of the country’s GDP, and probably much more, came from the black market. Everyday goods like bananas and paper tissues were hard to find; jet skis were practically unknown.
Bashar was 16 years old, a pudgy, frizzy-haired kid with chipmunk cheeks and a double chin he would never grow out of. He had his own bodyguards but was so shy about his appearance that he would cover his teeth with his hands when he smiled.
One day, as the story goes, Bashar was sitting at home with a friend when some boys he knew called. They were going on an excursion to Syria’s Mediterranean coast. Could they borrow his new toy?
Yes, yes, of course! Bashar said.
As soon as the boys hung up, Bashar summoned the head of the guards at the presidential palace. Some friends of mine might come and ask to use my jet ski, he said. If they do, tell them it’s broken.
If there’s one thing those who know him agree on, it’s that Bashar Al Assad is awfully eager to please. Friends and even some enemies portray the Syrian president as a kind and generous man, always ready to use his connections to provide a favor: for a job, a heart operation, or just the permit the government has required, under Syria’s authoritarian form of socialism, to buy a tank of propane gas for cooking food. “Easygoing,” say diplomats who have faced him in negotiations. “I would have described him as a real gentleman, before this,” says a Damascene businessman who was part of Assad’s social circle and has now fled the country to escape its ongoing civil war.
The subtext here is that Assad is weak; the polite phrasing, among educated Syrians, has always been that he “does not have the qualities of a leader.” That is to say, he does not have the gravitas of his ruthless, gnomic father, Hafez Al Assad, who ruled the country from 1970 until June 2000. Other Syrians put it less delicately. They call him donkey, giraffe, taweel wa habeel—a Levantine putdown for a big, bumbling doofus. Diplomats, analysts, and a few heads of state have been just as harsh, predicting his imminent downfall since the day he took power.
Two-thousand thirteen was the year when it seemed as if those predictions would finally come true. As the uprising against him ground into its third summer, his regime lost territory and international legitimacy. Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states lavished cash and weaponry on rebel fighters. Even the United States was reluctantly edging closer to supporting the revolution with something more than words. Then, on August 21, Assad’s regime used the nerve gas sarin to kill hundreds of Syrian civilians, crossing the “red line” that Barack Obama had said would prompt a U.S. military response. It looked like the end. If a formerly untouchable military dictator like Hosni Mubarak could go down in Egypt, then why not Syria’s lanky, lisping president?
What outsiders have been slow to realize is that in the game Assad is playing, a weak man (or one perceived that way) can cling to his throne just as tenaciously, and violently, as a strongman. Over the course of his reign, he has learned how to turn his biggest shortcomings—his desire for approval, his tendency toward prevarication—into his greatest assets. The world wants him to give up the chemical munitions he used against his own citizens, and he has begun to do that. The world wants an end to the conflict that has killed more than 100,000 Syrians and displaced millions more; his government is now willing to participate in peace talks. This nebbishy second son, who was never meant to inherit the family regime, has proved exceptionally talented in the art of self-preservation.
“He’s more clever than all the Western and U.S. politicians, for sure,” Ayman Abdelnour, a close adviser to Assad before he fell out of favor and fled into exile, told me. Abdelnour then recalled—by way of explaining why Assad was so difficult to take down—something the young president would tell his inner circle about their foreign adversaries. “They are here for a few years,” Assad would say. “My father, seven presidents passed through him.”
When Hafez Al Assad seized power in 1970, Syria had just suffered through nearly a quarter century of coups. The former defense minister was determined to impose stability. He made his Baath Party the country’s “leading party,” meaning the only one with any real authority. And he wagered that an understanding between the urban Sunni merchant classes and the secular security state, increasingly dominated by members of his clan, would hold his regime together. But the calm did not last.
In the late ’70s, Sunni Islamists, led by Baath’s old rival, the Muslim Brotherhood, unleashed a campaign of suicide bombings and assassinations that killed several hundred officers and civil servants. Many of their targets were Alawites, the Muslim minority to which the Assads belong. The faith combines tenets of Shia Islam, elements of Christianity and even Zoroastrian mysticism, and heterodox beliefs like reincarnation. (The thirteenth-century Syrian theologian Ibn Taymiyya, a godfather of today’s militant Sunni Islam, issued three fatwas against its followers.) Historically, Syria’s Alawites were among the poorest of the poor. But during the country’s decades as a colony of France, many of them found a path out of poverty through the military. Alawites continued to use armed service to rise in influence after Syria won independence.
In June 1980, as the power struggle between Baath and Brotherhood took on an increasingly sectarian tone, Hafez narrowly escaped an assassination attempt. His military responded by unleashing its full wrath on the Brotherhood, crushing its Islamist uprising through torture, mass executions, commando raids, and the assault on Hama, a three-week siege that killed tens of thousands of people, the vast majority of them civilians. Hafez liked to call himself “a peasant and the son of a peasant,” but the Assads came to position themselves as a cosmopolitan bulwark against the primitive forces of militant Islam—a modern, enlightened clan ruling a backward people, gently but firmly, for their own good. “In the end,” says a former adviser, “they see themselves much higher than others, as a family.” Suriyet al-Assad, the Syria of Assad, would have to be preserved at all costs.
Hafez ran his household the way he ran his country: demanding total loyalty and tolerating no complaint. Bashar’s older brother, Basil, who was being groomed to take over the presidency, would bully and beat up his little brother, according to one former adviser; but his parents, in keeping with the family code, did not discuss the matter. As a father, Hafez “was not the type of person who ever said ‘bravo’ or good job—he rather told you about the things you should not do, the negative,” Bashar told his biographer, the Middle East history professor David Lesch.
Ali Duba, Hafez’s dreaded head of military intelligence, starred in another bit of Assad parenting lore. One day, according to a story told by Syrians with contacts in the regime, Hafez was sitting around with friends, indulging a rare moment of relaxation, when he exclaimed, “I wish my sons were tough, like Ali Duba’s sons!” Years later, when Duba tried to challenge Bashar’s succession, the son would not dare ask his father for help. It was all part of the strange silence, verging on hostility, between the two. “No, no!” shouted Abdelnour, in alarm, when I asked him if Bashar ever discussed his problems with Hafez. “Even in his mind, he doesn’t discuss it!”
“I do not think [Hafez] was very enthusiastic to see his son replacing him,” Farouk Al Sharaa, a former Syrian foreign minister, told Lesch, “simply because perhaps he never thought he was going to die.”
This coldness inspired in Bashar a quiet rebellion against his father’s cult of personality. In his heyday, Hafez staged massive, North Korean–style extravaganzas, with a sea of people flashing cards to make a picture of his face. Crowds would clap wildly whenever the leader’s name was mentioned; Bashar’s tiny gesture of defiance was refusing to join in, because he did not think a man should be applauded without doing something to earn it. He showed other flashes of independence. The Assad children attended exclusive, French-language schools, alongside the sons of the Damascene elite. Though they had people to do their homework for them, in the finest ruling-class tradition, friends of the family say a young Bashar always insisted on doing his own. “He wants to do things his way,” a former adviser says.
Bashar got his chance to prove himself in January 1994, when Basil crashed his Mercedes Benz on his way to the Damascus airport and died. Bashar was called in from London, where he was doing a residency in ophthalmology, to begin a residency in dictatorship. He planned to succeed where his father had failed: at being liked, not just feared. His Syria would be modern and technocratic, a new model for the Middle East. “He wants approval—from the West, from educated Damascenes, from the artists and the intellectual class,” says a Syrian intellectual who asks not to be named. But the boy who grew up without approval did not understand how to earn it. He lacked what the Syrian intellectual calls “the celestial imagination”—the ability to understand the motivations and desires of other people, who might be dreaming of something beyond how much they admire him.
After his return to Damascus, Bashar joined the officer corps and took over the Syrian Computer Society, formerly Basil’s fiefdom. He started working out and learned how to speak without his youthful habit of covering his mouth. He also set out to build a kitchen cabinet of young reformers and technocrats. Bashar’s people were fellow doctors, engineers, college professors: nerds. They wanted Internet access, better technology, and a country with less corruption and more freedom of expression. Abdelnour was now a close adviser and confidant who drew up proposals for “management by objective” and modernizing the regime from within.
When Hafez died in June 2000, a special referendum installed Bashar as president. He had finally forced out his nemesis, Ali Duba, a few months earlier and now pushed other members of the old guard into retirement. On New Year’s Day 2001, Bashar married Asma Al Akhras, an investment banker from an elite Sunni family who had grown up in London. “There was almost a sense that he came to power reluctantly,” says Mona Yacoubian, a former State Department official who lived in Syria during Hafez Al Assad’s reign and is now a senior adviser for the Middle East program at the Stimson Center. “He wasn’t Basil, who was the more thuggish, stronger brother. He had this beautiful wife. They struck this picture of what people hoped Syria would become.”
The new president announced a series of changes. He released hundreds of political prisoners and permitted Syrians to host salons in their homes to discuss politics and ideas, which was previously forbidden. He allowed private ownership of banks. The government even granted a license to the country’s first independent newspaper, The Lamplighter, a satirical broadsheet run by the brilliant political cartoonist Ali Ferzat. And Syria finally got Internet access, albeit limited and heavily supervised. “At the time, I and millions of Syrians were hoping for the best, and wanting for him to open up the economy, to liberalize politics, to allow freedoms,” says Murhaf Jouejati, a professor at the National Defense University, who met with Bashar early in his presidency. “We were expecting that he would.”
Bashar took pains to appear more modern than his father. He liked to throw on jeans and drive his Audi A6 to Naranj, an upscale restaurant with an open kitchen that served an elegantly simple take on Syrian peasant cuisine. According to a friend, Bashar was partial to a toshi, a Damascene pressed sandwich—classic, regular-guy street food. Another story told of him walking into a restaurant in Aleppo unannounced and politely asking an old woman how she was enjoying her meal. “There is what I call the ‘modest king’ theory in Middle Eastern history: He wears normal clothes, he goes among the people, he sits normally,” says the Syrian intellectual. “And Bashar fits into this tradition.”
But the gestures were mostly symbolic; the so-called “Damascus Spring” would prove short-lived. In January 2001, a group of Syrian activists, intellectuals, and professionals, encouraged by the apparent opening of their country’s political culture, issued a declaration known as the “Statement of 1,000.” They called for an end to martial law and emergency rule and the release of all remaining political prisoners. (Then, as now, nobody knew how many the regime held.) They also demanded democratic, multiparty elections, under the supervision of an independent judiciary. Some of the activists had the temerity to form new political parties.
The Assad regime struck back immediately, beginning a campaign of harassment and intimidation that would last, with varying intensity, for the next ten years. A number of the citizens responsible for the Statement of 1,000 were arrested. By early 2002, the government had forced The Lamplighter out of print and thrown leaders of the fledgling discussion groups in jail. Despite his early feints at democracy, Assad was not interested in surrendering even an inch of his power. Suriyet al-Assad needed his benevolent guidance.
To Bashar and his wife, it wasn’t the Syrian regime that required real reform. It was the Syrian people. Asma’s official biography, passed to me by an old friend of Bashar’s, distills their governing ideology. It reads like a tract from Rand Paul: Syrians need to stop depending on the state and assume “personal responsibility for achieving the common good,” the document proclaims, adding, “the sustainable answer to social need is not aid but opportunity” and “creating circumstances where people can help themselves.” That the Assad family and its loyalists have been helping themselves to Syria’s national wealth for decades does not enter into this narrative.
During the winter of 2006, one of Assad’s advisers showed up for a meeting at the president’s office. He found his boss hyperventilating, unable to speak. “They will reach me,” Assad finally gasped. The adviser desperately attempted to calm him down, offering him juice and coffee. Assad was in an abject state of panic—“complete moral collapse” is how the adviser recalls the scene. After 15 minutes, the dictator collected himself and began the meeting, as if nothing had happened.
Assad was under pressure from several sides. Early in the war on terror, Syria had been an unofficial partner of the United States, even covertly torturing suspected militants. But following the fall of Baghdad in 2003, the Bush administration began hinting that Syria could be the next candidate for regime change, the penalty for its patronage of Hamas and Hezbollah. Assad started allowing Sunni insurgents and jihadi funds to flow through his country into Iraq, hoping to help bog down the United States. But he was also coming under fire over the assassination of Rafik Hariri, the Sunni former prime minister of Lebanon, who had begun to challenge Syrian meddling in his country in the months before his death. A United Nations investigation into the killing stopped just short of implicating regime officials. There was talk that Assad himself could be brought up on charges by a special U.N. tribunal.
Despots who find themselves trapped in confrontations with other countries rely on a venerable set of tactics. Some tyrants embrace conflict, using it to rally their subjects behind them. Others, like Hafez Al Assad, perfect the art of intransigence. He was “a stone wall,” says one senior Western diplomat who knew both father and son. Bashar, however, took a very different approach: “[He] was much more supple, much more ready to talk details. He’s very smooth-edged. Very agreeable—nothing seemed to be beyond imagining.” Bashar was so eager to create an impression of pliancy, says another diplomat, that during one round of high-level negotiations, he launched into discussions before the pre-talk photo op was even over. His foreign minister had to quietly remind him not to discuss state matters in front of the press.
For years, many Western analysts and diplomats have viewed Assad as malleable, even naïve. But his former aides describe a man who is accustomed to being underestimated and adept at exploiting those misperceptions. Before negotiations, Assad would tell his team to let the other side think they had won: “Give them always nice words, nice meetings, nice phrases,” Abdelnour recalls him saying. “They will be happy, they will say good things about us, and they cannot withdraw from it later.” In the end, though, Assad rarely delivers on the concessions that he grants so courteously. He always has an excuse, a variable beyond his control: Yes, he would try to stop the flow of jihadists into Iraq, but he could not police the entire border.
According to another former aide, Assad took pleasure in toying with the West. “He told me once, ‘When I sit with the Arabs, it’s a session of takazu’—mutual lying, we say in Arabic,” says the former adviser. “ ‘But when I sit with those foreigners, and you see me on television, really it’s a game of Tom and Jerry.’ ”
Assad also had a different, homegrown model for his approach. “Give them a sandwichet Ghawwar,” has been one of Bashar’s instructions to his team when the regime feels squeezed. Ghawwar Al Toshi is a beloved Syrian TV character, a stubborn prankster with a lush mustache and an old-school Damascene accent. He seems bumbling and feckless, a little like a Syrian Mr. Bean, but his implausible capers always somehow work out to his advantage. In one famous episode, Ghawwar opens a sandwich stand; instead of buying all the necessary ingredients, he takes a single piece of meat and ties a string to its end. His customers walk away, unaware that Ghawwar is about to pull back the fillings and leave them with nothing but empty bread.
Assad can play the gag expertly. By 2007, the Hariri investigation was foundering. The United States was losing control in Iraq and, once again, pleading for his help reining in Islamic militants. He had not only survived his crises; he emerged from them stronger, or so he believed. He thought he was creating a legacy of his own. When a Syrian TV announcer called Hafez the greatest Arab leader in history, Bashar had one of his advisers, Buthaina Shaaban, call the announcer and order him never to say it again.
In October, after some back-and-forth, one of Assad’s high school friends agreed to meet with me. He asked that I not use his name, or any identifying characteristics, because he was afraid the opposition would make him a target. “Even the secular guys are really crazy,” he said. “You could get whacked really easily.”
We met in a hotel lobby on New York City’s Upper East Side. Immediately, he suggested that we go somewhere else. “I don’t like it here,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the side entrance where he had specified we meet. A surprising number of people from Assad’s inner circle have fled to the United States in the past few years as their lives in Syria, which had been quite comfortable, became less so.
Assad spent his first term in office refining an economic policy based on cronyism, privatizing the old state-run industries without actually creating any new competition. It was gangster capitalism cloaked in neoliberal free-market rhetoric. His maternal cousin, Rami Makhlouf, became the symbol of the ruling clan’s racketeering. Makhlouf controlled a network of extraordinarily lucrative monopolies, from one of the national cell-phone carriers to a chain of duty-free stores. After bringing in the Egyptian telecom giant Orascom as a partner to develop Syriatel, he edged the Egyptians out and kept the spoils for himself, which discouraged other foreign investors and left Syria’s economy more isolated than ever.
Experts have been warning for years that Syria was headed for a demographic disaster if economic conditions did not improve. “Signs of internal restlessness are increasing,” Yassin Haj-Saleh, a dissident who spent 17 years in jail under Hafez, warned me back in the summer of 2005. “If we have a social explosion, God forbid, it might take on a sectarian character.” Over the next few years, the country absorbed more than a million Iraqi refugees, straining its already weak infrastructure. A devastating drought began in 2007 and dragged on for three years, exacerbated by the government’s mismanagement of water and land resources. As the Assads burnished their international profile by hosting Sting and Angelina Jolie in Damascus, 80 percent of the people from the drought-stricken areas, mostly agricultural peasants, were left destitute, so poor that they subsisted on bread and tea.
In January 2011, as popular uprisings spread through Tunisia and Egypt, Assad spoke with two reporters from The Wall Street Journal. “We have more difficult circumstances than most of the Arab countries, and in spite of that Syria is stable,” Assad said. “You have to be very closely linked to the beliefs of the people.” Syrians, he insisted, did not want “cosmetic” reforms just to please the West; they knew that the only real solution was to “upgrade the whole society.”
That February, a group of children in Deraa, a dusty southern Syrian town full of poor agricultural migrants, got tired of waiting for their upgrade. With cans of spray-paint, they took up the revolutionary cry spreading across North Africa and Yemen: The people want the fall of the regime. Security forces rounded up 15 of them.
Here is how people in Syria tell the story of what happened next: In March, the boys’ fathers went to Atef Najib, the head of political security in the province and a relative of the Assads. They laid their keffiyehs on the table to show that they would not leave without their sons. “You want your sons back?” Najib laughed, throwing their keffiyehs into the trash. “Bring me your wives, and I will make you more sons!” Protests broke out; within the week, 120 anti-government demonstrators were dead.
This time, the world’s approval would be out of reach. So Assad set about making himself the least-bad option. On March 30, 2011, as the conflict escalated, he gave a defiant and conspiratorial speech casting himself as the victim of “foreign powers” who had stirred up insurrection in a bid to destroy Syria. “They adopt the principle,” he said of his enemies, “of ‘lie until you believe your lie.’ ”
In fact, it is Assad who has done exactly that. Calmly and deliberately, he has painted a picture that in the beginning was not completely accurate: The demonstrators, he said, were jihadists who would bring Afghanistan-type chaos to the country. Then he sat back and waited for it to become true. “He’s very strategic. From the very first day, he was talking about terrorists and Syria’s national unity,” says a former regime official, who has now defected to the United States. “People were talking about democracy, human rights, silly stuff—not silly, but not strategic—and he is talking about Al Qaeda.”
And if a series of well-timed massacres by the regime would provoke outrage in the West, Assad also knew that images of carnage would cause Gulf states to arm the Islamist opposition and escalate the sectarian warfare. This was his strategy: to make intervention so unpalatable that the international community would take no steps to alter the course of the conflict. “These jihadists who have come in, largely courtesy of private Gulf money, these are his enemies of choice,” says Frederic C. Hof, the Obama administration’s former envoy to the Syrian opposition and currently a senior fellow at the Atlantic Council. “I call it a coalition of co-dependency.”
As the Al Qaeda element grew stronger, the regime became increasingly aggressive at playing it up. With Islamist rebels seizing territory closer and closer to Israeli-occupied areas, the opposition posted a video of a half-dozen fighters driving along the border of the Golan Heights. “For forty years, not one shot has been fired against Israel from here,” one of the fighters shouts in Arabic. “Allahu akbar!” At that, some of his companions raise their Kalashnikovs with one hand and shoot them into the air. “The regime made sure that this video was all over [the Internet] the next day,” says the former Assad official. “They took their whole media machine and they put it everywhere, to show the Israelis: Look what’s coming.”
Meanwhile, the regime methodically discredited the revolution’s moderate, secular factions with sophisticated dirty tricks. For the first four or five months of the war, security forces treated detainees from Damascus with relative caution, even as they massacred villagers in rural areas—a shrewd way to make opposition claims of brutality look hysterical to the capital’s middle and upper classes. “If you were from a good family, they wouldn’t torture you,” says Mohamad Al Bardan, a nonviolent opposition leader who now lives abroad. “People like me, at one point, we felt they were stupid. They are not stupid at all.”
Later, when what Graham Greene called “the torturable class” expanded to wealthy, Internet-connected urbanites, Assad and his henchmen adopted a tactic that would have made Jerry the mouse proud. A rumor would swirl that the regime had detained a certain supporter of the revolution. The opposition would mobilize: media alerts, petitions, pleas to international human rights organizations. Once the alarm had reached a frenzy, the supposedly jailed activist would appear on state-run television, making the opposition look unreliable. “They did that multiple times,” says Bardan. In one of the most wicked examples, word spread that Alawite regime thugs had beheaded a beautiful young Sunni Muslim girl because her brother was an opposition activist. When she resurfaced a few weeks later, she told a different story: She had run away from home because her brother was abusing her.
The regime is constantly refining its dark arts of propaganda and deception. When it captures an activist, his comrades often try to shut down his social-media accounts as quickly as possible, to prevent the regime from mining them for intelligence. As security forces figured this out, they began forcing detainees to reopen their accounts. Social-media companies would get a message supposedly from the detainee, claiming to be free and complaining that he had been maliciously targeted. When activists tried to explain what really happened, it sounded like a conspiracy theory. After a few of these incidents, the social-media companies weren’t sure whom to believe. “They thought we were playing, doing some kids’ stuff,” says Bardan. “It’s difficult to describe to any American, that this is the way that we live in Syria. ... Different cultures, different societies cannot understand exactly how evil could be.”
By the time the Syrian military used the nerve gas sarin to kill hundreds of civilians in the ring of suburbs around Damascus on August 21, 2013, the jihadists were so ascendant, and the secular opposition so discredited, that Assad could claim the rebels carried out the attacks and not be universally dismissed. His version of events did not have to be credible. It just had to create confusion and doubt. In a Pew poll conducted eight days after the attacks, only 53 percent of Americans believed there was “clear evidence” that Assad was to blame. Even supposedly better-informed authorities, including the revered journalist Seymour Hersh, entertained the regime’s carefully planted suggestions.
While the Obama administration never seriously doubted Assad’s role in the attack, it accepted other crucial pieces of the dictator’s narrative. “The regime has been extraordinarily successful with a very disciplined and single–minded disinformation campaign,” says Hof. “Even in the executive branch, you’ve got people arguing over what’s the bigger threat, Assad or Al Qaeda. You’ve got people worrying about all kinds of hypotheses—what if Assad were overthrown? What would happen to Syria? As if what’s happening to Syria is something we can all live with.”
According to one former Assad aide, about a week after the sarin-gas attack, as the White House vacillated over how to respond, Assad called his top military and intelligence chiefs into a meeting. This was unusual; he rarely gathers them in one place, preferring one-on-one meetings. Assad told the men not to worry: If the United States launches air strikes, they will be merely cosmetic—a face-saving measure for Obama. We are safe, he told them.
One recurring theory about Assad, which the regime has perhaps subtly encouraged, holds that he is not really running his country, but is in thrall to a shadowy set of figures that varies according to whom you’re talking—in some versions, it is his father’s old circle; in others, the Alawite elite. (This theory was especially appealing to the Western governments who once hoped that high-level defections could help weaken Assad, and perhaps even supply his replacement.) Most of the former regime officials I spoke to rejected that idea. “This is a kind of one-man show,” says a former regime official. “The system will not collapse as long as Assad does not collapse. Any other person is replaceable.”
Under the deus ex machina set in motion by Russia, Assad has until the middle of 2014 to facilitate the removal and destruction of all of Syria’s chemical-weapons stockpiles and manufacturing capabilities. Even though this agreement does nothing to threaten Assad’s hold on power—Moscow can veto any U.N. punishment for the regime’s failure to comply—it has been widely celebrated. The Organization for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons, which is overseeing the process, won the Nobel Peace Prize. Assad joked in front of reporters from a Lebanese newspaper that he should have received the award himself.
When I asked one former regime official about what will happen next, he suggested the following scenario: International chemical weapons inspectors are operating out of the fortress-like Four Seasons Hotel in Damascus. Assad knows that a few of these inspectors will be Western intelligence agents. Syrian operatives will figure out who they are and quietly approach them with tips: a known terrorist is in this province; we have pictures; we’re fighting Al Qaeda, just like you. “And I will not be surprised at all if the American and Syrian intelligence agencies work together again,” says one defector. “If not today, tomorrow. If not directly, indirectly. The door will be open.”
The last time Bashar Al Assad stood for reelection in Syria, where the presidential term lasts for seven years, was in May 2007. He had no credible opponent and won with 97.6 percent of the vote. Instead of his father’s Pyongyang-style extravaganzas, Bashar celebrated with a more postmodern spectacle: an exquisitely orchestrated “uprising” of support, part Roman triumph, part faux Orange Revolution. Crowds of people danced debkeh in the streets with choreographed spontaneity, waving torches and posters of Bashar and singing: “We love you, yes! We love you!”
Syria’s next presidential election is scheduled for May. In an October interview with the German newspaper Der Spiegel, Assad played coy about whether he will seek a third term. “I cannot decide now whether I am going to run,” he said. “It’s still early, because you have to probe the mood and will of the people.” But he seemed to like his chances. “Who isn’t against me?” Assad said. “You’ve got the United States, the West, the richest countries in the Arab world, and Turkey. All this and I am killing my people, and they still support me! Am I a Superman? No. So how can I still stay in power after two and a half years? Because a big part of the Syrian people support me.” Besides, Assad added, “Where is another leader who would be similarly legitimate?”
Annia Ciezadlo, a veteran Middle East correspondent, is the author of Day of Honey: A Memoir of Food, Love, and War. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 70 | https://wan-ifra.org/press-freedom-prize-goes-to-syrian-journalist/ | en | Press Freedom Prize Goes To Syrian Journalist | [
"https://secure.visionary-intuitiveimaginative.com/790801.png",
"https://wan-ifra.org/wp-content/themes/wan-ifra/images/logo.png",
"https://wan-ifra.org/wp-content/themes/wan-ifra/images/logo.png",
"https://cdn.wan-ifra.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/06/23125253/Nizar-Nayouf-Golden-Pen-of-Freedom-2000.png",
"h... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2023-06-23T12:53:42+00:00 | Nizar Nayouf, the Syrian press freedom and democracy advocate, has been awarded the 2000 Golden Pen of Freedom, the annual press freedom prize of the World Association of Newspapers. Mr. Nayouf has been imprisoned in Syria since 1992. The award, announced on Tuesday by the Board of the Paris-based WAN, was made in recognition of […] | en | WAN-IFRA | https://wan-ifra.org/press-freedom-prize-goes-to-syrian-journalist/ | Nizar Nayouf, the Syrian press freedom and democracy advocate, has been awarded the 2000 Golden Pen of Freedom, the annual press freedom prize of the World Association of Newspapers. Mr. Nayouf has been imprisoned in Syria since 1992.
The award, announced on Tuesday by the Board of the Paris-based WAN, was made in recognition of Mr. Nayouf’s outstanding contribution to the cause of press freedom.
In a statement, the Board said: “Nizar Nayouf is said to be near death due to unspeakable torture and the effects of diseases for which he has been denied adequate treatment. The Syrian regime has tried to break him, and they have failed. Despite the appalling conditions in which he is being detained, Mr. Nayouf is continuing his fight for freedom of speech and democracy. His sacrifice is a reminder that freedom of speech can carry a very high price; he is an inspiration to publishers and journalists everywhere.”
The Board, which was meeting in Lisbon, renewed its call to Syrian President Hafez al-Assad to respect international conventions and release Mr. Nayouf
and other journalists being held in prison. At least nine journalists are currently being held in prison in Syria.
“His case, and others like it, should be raised by every country that pursues political or business relations with the Syrian regime,” the Board said.
Mr Nayyouf, Editor in Chief of Sawt al-Democratiyya (Democracy’s Vote) and Secretary-General of the Committee for the Defence of Democratic Freedom in Syria, was arrested in 1992 and sentenced to ten years of forced labour for being a member of an “unauthorized” organization and for disseminating
“false” information.
Mr Nayyouf, 52, is confined to a tiny solitary cell and cannot walk, as his legs are paralysed and his vertebrae fractured due to the repeated torture by prison authorities. His sight is failing, following a fracture to the back of his head; burns from cigarettes stumped out on his skin have healed badly and left him with dermatitis.
Mr Nayyouf is also suffering from lymphatic cancer, liver disease and ulcers but is being denied full treatment.
WAN recently learned three attempts have been made to kill Mr. Nayouf in jail. The assassination attempts — by poisoning with arsenic and other chemicals, and by instigating a fight with another inmate — have failed for a variety of reasons, including aid provided to Mr Nayouf by sympathetic jailers.
He spent his first ten months of detention in Saydnaya prison, in the suburbs of Damascus, where he attempted to organized a prisoners’ rebellion. As punishment, prison authorities transferred him to the notorious military prison of Palmyre, in the Syrian desert.
In protest at the torture inflicted on prisoners at Palmyre, Nizar Nayouf went on a hunger strike for 13 days in 1993 which left him very weak. Numerous prisoners die under torture in Palmyre; Nizar Nayouf smuggled out evidence of this and was again transferred, as punishment, to the military prison of Mezze in Damascus, where he remains.
The military authorities holding Nizar Nayouf have made it clear that he will only receive additional medical treatment if he pledges to refrain from
political activity and signs a statement acknowledging that “he made false declarations concerning the situation concerning human rights in Syria.” He continues to refuse to do so.
WAN, the global association of the newspaper industry, has awarded the Golden Pen annually since 1961. Past winners include Argentina’s Jacobo Timerman (1980), who died earlier this month, Russia’s Sergei Grigoryants (1989), China’s Gao Yu (1995), and Vietnam’s Doan Viet Hoat (1998). Last year’s winner was Faraj Sarkohi of Iran.
The association, which defends and promotes press freedom world-wide, represents 17,000 newspapers; its membership includes 61 national newspaper associations, individual newspaper executives in 93 countries, 17 news agencies and seven regional and world-wide press groups. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 86 | https://ca.news.yahoo.com/assad-wins-syria-election-88-7-percent-votes-190506817.html | en | Assad wins Syria election with 88.7 percent of votes: speaker | [
"https://s.yimg.com/rz/stage/p/yahoo_news_en-US_h_p_newsv2.png",
"https://s.yimg.com/rz/stage/p/yahoo_news_en-US_h_p_newsv2.png",
"https://s.yimg.com/ny/api/res/1.2/jAOh15DZaYKq1PH05Lfj2A--/YXBwaWQ9aGlnaGxhbmRlcjt3PTI1NjtoPTYw/https://s.yimg.com/os/creatr-uploaded-images/2020-11/62e21440-2fbd-11eb-95ff-5673fa3d... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2014-06-04T19:16:40+00:00 | Bashar al-Assad won 88.7 percent of the vote in Syria's presidential election, parliament speaker Mohammad al-Laham said on Wednesday, securing a third term in office despite a raging civil war which grew out of protests against his rule. Assad's foes had dismissed the election as a charade, saying the two relatively unknown challengers offered no real alternative and that no poll held in the midst of civil war could be considered credible. "I declare the victory of Dr Bashar Hafez al-Assad as president of the Syrian Arab Republic with an absolute majority of the votes cast in the election," Laham said in a televised address from his office in the Syrian parliament. Syria's constitutional court earlier said that turnout in Tuesday's election and an earlier round of voting for Syrian expatriates stood at 73 percent. | en | https://s.yimg.com/rz/l/favicon.ico | Yahoo News | https://ca.news.yahoo.com/assad-wins-syria-election-88-7-percent-votes-190506817.html | BEIRUT (Reuters) - Bashar al-Assad won 88.7 percent of the vote in Syria's presidential election, parliament speaker Mohammad al-Laham said on Wednesday, securing a third term in office despite a raging civil war which grew out of protests against his rule. Assad's foes had dismissed the election as a charade, saying the two relatively unknown challengers offered no real alternative and that no poll held in the midst of civil war could be considered credible. "I declare the victory of Dr Bashar Hafez al-Assad as president of the Syrian Arab Republic with an absolute majority of the votes cast in the election," Laham said in a televised address from his office in the Syrian parliament. Syria's constitutional court earlier said that turnout in Tuesday's election and an earlier round of voting for Syrian expatriates stood at 73 percent. Syrian officials had described the predicted victory as vindication of Assad's three-year campaign against those fighting to oust him. Voting took place in government-controlled areas of Syria, but not in large parts of northern and eastern Syria held by rebels fighting to end 44 years of Assad family rule. The conflict has killed 160,000 people, driven nearly 3 million abroad as refugees and displaced many more inside Syria. (Reporting by Dominic Evans; editing by Ralph Boulton) | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 71 | https://www.nationalgeographic.com/history/article/syrian-doctor-saved-thousands-in-underground-hospital | en | This Syrian doctor saved thousands in an underground hospital | [
"https://i.natgeofe.com/n/e76f5368-6797-4794-b7f6-8d757c79ea5c/ng-logo-2fl.png?w=109&h=32",
"https://i.natgeofe.com/n/dcb4143b-2789-4698-9119-76cf4529cb07/01-doctor-amani-ballour.jpg",
"https://i.natgeofe.com/n/28776324-f038-4ac3-b9fb-f3ae868f1df4/04-doctor-amani-ballour.jpg",
"https://i.natgeofe.com/n/5fd559... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Rania Abouzeid"
] | 2019-11-22T17:35:00+00:00 | During Syria’s deadly civil war, Amani Ballour treated victims of airstrikes and chemical attacks—memories that still haunt her today. | en | History | https://www.nationalgeographic.com/history/article/syrian-doctor-saved-thousands-in-underground-hospital | The crack of thunder; a plane streaming overhead; a knock on the door. Amani Ballour is afraid of loud noises. The sounds remind her of the fighter jets and ferocious shelling that forced her to reluctantly flee her native Syria in 2018.
The 32-year-old pediatrician does not find relief in the quiet of her sparsely furnished two-room apartment in Gaziantep, Turkey. In the stillness, she remembers the young patients she calls “my children,” those who survived and the many more who didn’t.
For two years, from 2016 to 2018, Ballour ran an underground field hospital known as the Cave in her hometown of Eastern Ghouta, near the Syrian capital Damascus. There, she witnessed war crimes including the use of chemical weapons and chlorine bombs, and airstrikes on hospitals, attacks that targeted a place of refuge and those already wounded.
As the administrator of the Cave, Ballour was responsible for a staff of some 100 people in a town besieged by troops loyal to Syrian President Bashar al-Assad. For years, essential items such as food and medical supplies were restricted or forbidden from entering the rebel town of Eastern Ghouta, part of Assad’s “starve or submit” stranglehold, forcing Ballour and others to smuggle goods in.
Assad’s warplanes and, beginning in September 2015, Russia’s fighter jets drove the hospital deeper underground into a maze of tunnels and bunkers.
Ballour’s journey is featured in National Geographic's documentary, The Cave. Nominated in the 92nd Academy Awards' Documentary Feature category, The Cave was directed by Feras Fayyad and produced by Kirstine Barfod and Sigrid Dyekjær. In 2018, Fayyad was nominated for an academy award for Last Men in Aleppo. The Cave tells the harrowing story of Ballour’s struggle to provide healing and comfort in the midst of war in a subterranean hospital. (Find it in select theaters near you.)
The youngest daughter in a family of three girls and two boys, Ballour says that from childhood she aspired “to do something different” rather than become a homemaker like her older sisters, who married in their teens and early 20s. Her heart set on mechanical engineering, she enrolled in Damascus University. But the pressure of societal gossip, and her father’s opposition to her plans, prompted her to switch to medicine, a discipline she says was considered “a more appropriate career for a woman, but as a pediatrician or a gynecologist.”
Ballour chose healing children and ignored the many naysayers who mockingly told her that “‘once you get married, hang your degree in the kitchen.’ I heard this phrase so many times.”
In 2011, when the wave of peaceful Arab protests reached Syria, Ballour was a fifth-year medical student, a year away from graduating. The protests quickly engulfed Eastern Ghouta. Ballour marched in a demonstration but didn’t tell her family, certain that her parents “would have been a million percent against it [because] they were very afraid something would happen to me.” At another protest, she captured brief snippets of video but was too scared to disseminate them. “I was terrified of being detained,” she says. Still, the experience was exhilarating. It felt “like I was breathing freedom, it was incredible. It was so empowering simply to say ‘no’ to what was happening in this country that had been ruled for decades by one regime.”
By that time, the Assads—Bashar and, before him, his father Hafez—had ruled Syria with an iron fist for more than four decades. Ballour remembers how as a child she knew that “it was forbidden to speak of certain things, to mention the name of the president, Hafez al-Assad, in any way except to praise him [because] the walls had ears.” She’d heard only whispers of the 1982 Hama massacre, when Hafez al-Assad’s forces killed thousands of people, insurgents and civilians, in a short-lived Islamist insurrection. “My parents didn't tell us about the Hama massacre, and they should have,” she says.
When Bashar al-Assad succeeded his father in 2000, Ballour wondered why Syrians couldn’t elect a leader with a different surname. “When I asked about it I was told to be quiet, that somebody might hear us,” she says. “It was very frightening.”
As the Syrian state violently cracked down on the protest movement, beating demonstrators with whip-like rods and firing tear gas and live bullets into crowds, Ballour was drawn into the worsening situation, but not as a protester. In the early years of the Syrian revolution, security forces routinely hunted wounded protesters in hospitals. Those seeking medical treatment risked being detained—disappearing into the regime’s network of dungeons—or worse, killed on the spot. Secretive field clinics quietly sprung up in homes and mosques and other places.
Ballour remembers being summoned from home by neighbors to treat her first patient, who was wounded in a protest. It was in late 2012 and she had just graduated. “He was a child who was shot in the head. What could I do for him? He was dead,” she says. “He was about eleven years old.”
Her first job, as a volunteer without pay, was treating the wounded in a field hospital set up in a partially constructed building that the regime had slated to become a hospital. She was one of two full-time physicians working there. The other was the clinic’s founder, Salim Namour. A general surgeon 26 years Ballour’s senior, Namour remembers meeting the young woman soon after she graduated. “She introduced herself and offered to help,” Namour recalls. “Many experienced doctors were fleeing to safety but here was this young graduate who stayed to help.”
At the time, the facility consisted of an operating room and an emergency room in the basement. It would soon expand into a web of underground shelters and become known to locals as the Cave. Wards including pediatrics and internal medicine were added. More doctors, nurses, and volunteers joined the effort. The hospital relied on machinery and equipment taken from damaged hospitals near the frontlines, and smuggled medical supplies paid for by international and Syrian NGOs in the diaspora.
Ballour was not a trauma surgeon, but when the casualties came in, even veterinarians and optometrists treated the wounded. She had to learn quickly, not just emergency medicine, but dealing with the horrors of a savage war. The first mass casualties she saw were charred bodies. Even years later, she can vividly recall “the smell of people burnt beyond recognition and some of them were still alive. It was the most shocking thing I’d seen at the time, I still didn’t have experience, I was a new graduate. I was so shocked I couldn’t do my job. But then I saw many massacres, so many casualties, and I got to work.”
On August 21, 2013, Ballour and her dedicated colleagues faced a new horror: chemical weapons. The Sarin attack on Eastern Ghouta killed hundreds. Ballour recalls rushing to the hospital in the dead of night, picking her way past people, dead and alive, sprawled on the floor to reach the supply room to begin treating patients. “We didn’t know exactly what it was, just that people were suffocating. Everybody was an emergency case. A patient who is suffocating cannot wait, and they were all suffocating. We saved who we saved and the ones we didn’t get to in time died. We couldn’t manage.”
The following year, Namour formed a local medical council from the 12 remaining physicians serving a population of some 400,000 people trapped in Eastern Ghouta. The council included two dentists and an optometrist. Not all of those on the council worked in the Cave but together they decided to elect an administrator of the Cave to a six-month term, later expanded to a year. Toward the end of 2015, Ballour decided to stand for the position. “I didn’t see why I couldn’t be an administrator especially if it was just because of my gender. I am a doctor and they (the two previous male administrators) are doctors. I was in the hospital from the first day, I knew what it needed, I had ideas to expand it, I had a plan.”
Her father and brother advised against it, given that Ballour was already spending all of her days and many nights in the Cave. “My father feared for me but I couldn’t come home,” Ballour says. “There weren’t enough doctors. He told me that people wouldn’t accept me, that I’d face a lot of problems. The next day I nominated myself and was elected hospital administrator.”
Ballour assumed her position in early 2016, a few months after the airstrikes ratcheted up with the arrival of the Russian Air Force in the skies above Eastern Ghouta. The backlash from some patients and their relatives was swift and predictable. “What I heard from a lot of the men was, ‘What? Have we run out of men in the country to appoint a woman?’ A woman. They wouldn’t say a female doctor, but a woman.”
She was fully supported in her efforts by the hospital staff, including Namour. “I couldn’t accept this [patriarchal] talk,” he says. “I’d tell the men: She’s here with us, working day and night whenever we need her while some of the male doctors we all know fled to regime-controlled areas to work in safety. Which do you prefer? It’s not about gender, it’s about actions and ability, and Dr. Amani made many positive changes to the hospital.”
Ballour expanded the Cave, deepening its bunkers and digging tunnels to two small medical clinics in town—and to the cemetery. “We needed to bury the dead but it was too dangerous to be above ground,” she says. “We couldn’t move above ground.”
As the siege tightened and warplanes screamed overhead, there were opportunities to leave through the tunnels, but Ballour didn’t take them. “How could I leave?” she says. “Why did I study medicine and focus on children if not to help people? To be there when they needed me, not to leave when I wanted to.”
The daily casualty toll climbed into the triple digits. The hospital was repeatedly targeted in air strikes that penetrated deep into the Cave, destroying a ward, killing three personnel and wounding others. On one occasion, Ballour had just stepped out of a ward into the corridor when the rockets crashed behind her. “I couldn't hear anything or see anything. The corridor was full of thick dust that was suspended in the air.” When it cleared, she found her dead colleagues: “Their bodies were in pieces.”
Ambulances were struck and rescuers killed as they retrieved the wounded. Assad’s final push into Eastern Ghouta in February 2018 included a chlorine attack. “The smell of chlorine was overwhelming,” Ballour remembers. “I don't have the words to describe what it was like, what we lived, but I want to so that people understand why we left. People were tired and hungry. Many surrendered, including fighters who'd drop their weapons and go toward the regime soldiers. … The army was closing in on us. They weren’t far, we had to flee. We feared they'd kill us if they reached us.”
A UN Commission of Inquiry on Syria would later report that Syrian and allied forces committed war crimes and crimes against humanity during the siege and recapture of Eastern Ghouta. Assad’s methods of warfare in Ghouta were “barbaric and medieval,” the UN report said, including “the longest-running siege in modern history, lasting more than five years.”
On March 18, 2018, Amani Ballour and her team evacuated the wounded and abandoned the Cave, but not before the doctor walked through every room and bade it farewell. “I thought about all the people who had passed through this hospital. I was a child when the building that would become the hospital was built, and I later worked in it for six years. We were besieged there, attacked there, we saved and lost lives there. I had so many memories in that place, most of them painful but we had good times too. It was very, very painful for me to leave the hospital.”
She walked away with nothing but the clothes on her back, leaving behind the cherished white coat that she’d worn since she was a medical student. “It was so bloody that I couldn't take it with me,” she says. “It was very special to me.”
Ballour and several of her family members and colleagues including Namour initially fled to nearby Zamalka, a suburb of Damascus, but there was shelling there too. Ten days later, Ballour was again on the move, this time to Idlib province in northwestern Syria bordering Turkey, the last rebel stronghold in the country. She’d never been to Idlib before. She moved from town to town in the province, but there was no escaping the warplanes.
She volunteered to help a pediatrician in a village field hospital but couldn’t stay more than a few hours in the facility. “When I looked at the children in Idlib I remembered my children and what happened to them. I couldn't see that again. I was very psychologically drained and tired.”
She was also tired of hearing some in Idlib, mainly Islamist fighters, blame her and others in Eastern Ghouta for what they termed “surrendering” to the regime. After three months in Idlib she fled to Gaziantep, Turkey in June 2018. She married an activist from Daraa whom she’d communicated with while she was in Ghouta but never previously met.
Now, she is safe, but she is not happy. The winter sun streams through her apartment windows. She is no longer underground, but she lives with the bitterness of being a refugee in a foreign land, struggling with the burden of what she survived, and the memories of those who didn’t, especially the children.
“They are in front of my eyes,” she says. “There are children I cannot forget, it’s impossible to forget them. There were children I’d treat in the pediatric ward (for asthma and other ailments) and then I’d see them when they’d been wounded. It was like working on family. I couldn’t look into their eyes when I worked on them. Sometimes I’d crash, I’d break down.”
She still has nightmares and every loud sound reminds her of a warplane. During thunderstorms, she says, if her husband isn’t home he calls her to reassure her that the noise isn’t an airstrike. She replays conversations with some of her young patients, like five-year-old Mahmoud who lost a hand to shrapnel, and through tears asked Ballour why she’d cut it off. “What could I tell him when he asked me that? I cried a lot that day.” And then there was the young boy who lost his arm at the shoulder. “I can still hear him crying out to me, asking me to help him.”
In Syria, Ballour says, she felt useful, like she was making a difference. “Here, I sometimes I feel like I am nothing.” She spends her days volunteering with a Syrian women’s group and studying English in the hopes of immigrating to Canada, but several applications have been rejected.
“Honestly, the word refugee is a difficult label to wear. I love my country, my home, my life in Syria, my memories of it, but why did we become refugees? People should ask what is behind that word 'refugee' and why we escaped. I’m a refugee because I fled oppression and danger. I didn't want to leave. I would have preferred to stay in Ghouta, despite everything. We were besieged and bombarded and we persisted for six years, we didn't want to leave. It was a very, very difficult moment. … I wish that people who just look at us as refugees ask what we escaped from and why we left. It's a painful word but I didn't have a choice. I don't believe I had a choice.”
Ballour intends to continue practicing medicine, but not as a pediatrician. Instead, she plans to shift to radiology, because she says, “I can't psychologically see patients any more, especially children.” It’s a sentiment that Namour understands. “I’m a surgeon who has spent his life in operating theaters, but after the bitter experience that we survived, after the inhumanity and suffering that we saw in Ghouta, I can’t stand the sight of blood or being in an operating theater,” he says, “Even though to me surgery is a technique, like a painter working on a portrait. We survived very difficult days.”
Ballour is finding other ways to help her people. She is involved in a fund, named Al Amal (Hope), to support female leaders and medical workers in conflict zones. She is a strong advocate for helping the millions of displaced Syrians living in tent cities within Syria and the millions more who have become refugees beyond its borders.
The Syrian war has slipped from the news pages but Ballour is determined to inform people about the atrocities she witnessed in a nearly nine-year-long war that is nowhere near over. “I don't want to tell stories to make people cry and get upset, I want them to help,” she says. “There are still so many people who need help.”
And then, there is the issue of justice. The child whose parents were too afraid to tell her about the Hama massacre is now a female doctor determined to widely disseminate her testimony of the chemical attacks on Eastern Ghouta. “I must get this testimony to organizations that can one day hopefully hold the regime to account for this crime,” she says. “I saw it. It happened.” | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 68 | https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/menasource/reliable-no-more-the-current-state-of-the-syrian-armed-forces/ | en | Reliable no more? The current state of the Syrian armed forces | [
"https://px.ads.linkedin.com/collect/?pid=1698650&fmt=gif",
"https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/ACYellow-adjust.png",
"https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/wp-content/themes/atlantic-council/dist/images/icon-search.svg",
"https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/2018-10-30... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Holly Dagres"
] | 2020-09-22T14:52:39+00:00 | The current conflict has truly impacted the configuration of the Bashar al-Assad regime as well as the structure and orientation of its military institution, putting the latter’s loyalty in question. | en | Atlantic Council | https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/menasource/reliable-no-more-the-current-state-of-the-syrian-armed-forces/ | By Abdulrahman al-Masri
Throughout the past nine years of conflict, the Syrian military has been instrumental in ensuring the survival of the Bashar al-Assad regime—not because of its performance on the battlefield, but rather due to its consistent loyalty. Unlike other state militaries that faced regime challenges by the 2011 Arab Spring uprisings, the Syrian armed forces maintained institutional loyalty. Since the Assad family took power in the 1970s, the military underwent a structural transformation that, through control mechanisms and the Alawite minority’s hegemonic position, ensured force loyalty and upheld the military’s central role in the durability of Syria’s authoritarian regime.
However, the current conflict has truly impacted the configuration of the Assad regime as well as the structure and orientation of its military institution, putting the latter’s loyalty in question. Today’s Syrian armed forces are fragmented, decision-making is contested and increasingly decentralized, and the circle of loyalty has widened in an unprecedented manner. Furthermore, a multiplication of security actors and entrenched foreign involvement have only complicated the Syrian security and defense sector’s precarious condition, rendering civil-military relations less predictable and more vulnerable to regime challenges.
The pre-2011 Syrian military
Before discussing the changes, one ought to understand the Assad regime’s pre-2011 military force. When Hafez al-Assad took power in 1970, Syria’s civil-military relations were already at an acute degree of imbalance, where the military had a strong political orientation and a magnitude of authority. When building his regime, Assad was able to end the military’s notorious business in instigating regime change via coup d’états. But he did so not by ending its political role, but by institutionalizing it so that it formed the backbone of the regime’s power structure. Thus, the armed forces underwent a drastic transformation under Hafez, changing its character from a historically regime-challenging force into a pillar of regime security. The military’s role germinated to support Assad’s Baathist rule and secure his family’s tight control over the state’s power structures.
To rearrange the military to befit his regime’s objectives, Hafez significantly expanded its size. The total number of active armed personnel grew by around 162 percent in the first ten years of his rule and by around 264 percent upon his death in 2000, according to estimates compiled by the International Institute of Strategic Studies. Assad also infused a parallel chain of command and imposed overlapping mandates and institutional redundancy on key military formations. In this way, the various organs of the regime’s coercive apparatus were designed with several layers of allegiance to compete and conjoin for regime survival.
Additionally, and arguably most importantly, Assad took advantage of the deeply divided condition of Syrian society. He elevated the number and role of the Alawites—the minority community to which the Assad family’s social and religious roots belong. Hafez—and later Bashar al-Assad—recognized the impact ethnic inclusion in the military could have on the loyalty among its ranks. As a result, the Alawite were disproportionately represented in the armed forces and the wider security sector. While this posed a legitimacy problem with regards to the public’s perception of the military’s national defense character, it also produced an institutionalized cycle of fear and distrust in Syrian society that not only provided the Assad regime with a loyal and hegemonized group in the military, but also made the Alawites dependent on the regime in a hostile and deeply divided country. As the Assad regime consolidated power, the military’s chief mission became clear: securing regime continuity above all national defense and security considerations.
Today’s Syrian military: Fragmentation and foreign penetration
Prior to 2011, the Assad regime faced formidable domestic challenges—such as the Muslim Brotherhood rebellion in Hama in 1982 and Rifat Assad’s failed coup attempt in 1984—in which the military played a central role in repelling. However, none were like the ongoing challenge that started in 2011, which, forced Bashar to rearrange and surrender some sovereignty over key power structures to maintain regime survival. While the structures that Hafez designed proved useful in standing against widespread public dissatisfaction in the first few years of the conflict, the increased capability of major rebel formations and the consequent battlefield ineffectiveness of Assad’s military prompted the inadvertent expansion of local security forces and import of foreign actors, such as Russia and Iran. Today, this has proven to be a tumorous growth in the Syrian military institution, causing loyalty dilemmas, diversification in funding sources, regional and ideological segmentation, parallel decision-making processes, and dependence on foreign patrons.
To adapt to evolving conflict dynamics, a kaleidoscope of unregulated militias and paramilitary forces with various funding sources and scopes of involvement emerged—particularly after 2013 with Legislative Decree 55—to supplement the Syrian army. While some militias, such as the Local Defense Forces, were institutionalized in the regular army as an auxiliary force, many pro-regime militias remain in a grey legal and operational area contingent on what the post-war structure will look like. Some militias reportedly receive funding from shady pro-regime businessmen, while others are funded exclusively by foreign actors, such as Iran and Russia. As some of these militias took domestic security roles, their recruitment patterns became segmented along regional, religious, and ideological lines, which can indicate growing localized autonomies and a widened circle of loyalty, as well as security and defense incoherence.
This hybrid structure of the Syrian security sector forced de-centralization on military decision-making in a system that had long been ultra-centralized. Armed pro-regime militias have influence to affect key defense decisions, including resource distribution, mobilization, and deployment. Clashes among these militias have been reported throughout the Syrian conflict and across different frontlines. Moreover, the state-militia relationship is precarious, where militias have a patronage relationship with competing organs of the military-intelligence community. In light of engrained corruption and transactional interests, this can lead to conflicts within the military institution.
On the other hand, Russia and Iran have invested high stakes in the Syrian army and the wider security sector and currently exercise considerable influence over the military. While Moscow and Tehran improved the Syrian army’s battlefield effectiveness and reversed its territorial losses, such victory came at a high price as the Assad regime’s sole monopoly over the military decreased. Both foreign powers are increasingly involved in even the appointment of senior officers, unit commanders, and the leadership of intelligence commands. They also worked—sometimes competitively—towards institutionalizing and integrating the many militias into the Syrian army’s command structure. Decision-making with regards to operational strategies is almost completely controlled by Russia and, to a lesser extent, Iran; Syrian army units associated with either foreign power increasingly take part in battles planned and conducted by their foreign ally’s troops or advisors. As a result, it can be assumed that Moscow also has influence over the allocation of resources within the military and can award loyal units and officers.
The other key aspect of the Syrian military is the presence and loyalty of the Alawites. While the Alawites’ hegemonic occupancy of the army heightened after 2011 due to Sunni defections, the community’s relationship with the military institution—and the regime by extension—changed. Their military support of the Assad regime came at an immense cost; they disproportionally lost much of their youth on the battlefield while their community continues to be hurt by the growing deterioration of living conditions. As the Alawites sacrifice for a regime that is unable to provide them with basic necessitates, their circle of loyalty is widening to include emerging notables who are substituting risky military service with safer militia membership and state services with local charities.
Perhaps the recent crackdown on businessman and regime financier Rami Makhlouf—seizing his assets, disbanding militias he financed, and shutting down his charity—can attest to his growing influence among the Alawites and the increasing vulnerability Assad is feeling with regards to his community’s support. However, the Alawites remain entrapped in the cycle of fear that the Assad regime created, which has isolated the minority community from the rest of Syrian society. This has made Assad—for the time being at least—a necessity for the community’s survival.
While the Syrian military played a key role in securing the Assad regime’s survival, the structures that were once designed to keep its forces loyal have gradually shattered in the past nine years. Although the forced de-centralization, multiplication of security actors, and foreign involvement saved the Syrian regime from military defeat, Assad measures the quality of his forces by their consistent loyalty and willingness to use force for his regime’s defense, not by their performance on the battlefield. While a coup against Bashar al-Assad or a collapse of his rule are unlikely, he no longer has the reliability that existed in the past fifty years.
Abdulrahman al-Masri is an independent analyst, focusing on politics and security issues in the Middle East. Follow him on Twitter: @AbdulrhmanMasri.
Image: Syrian President Bashar al Assad visits Syrian army troops in war-torn northwestern Idlib province, Syria, in this handout released by SANA on October 22, 2019. SANA/Handout via REUTERS | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 26 | https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/6/17/france-sentences-syrian-leaders-uncle-to-four-years-in-prison | en | France sentences Syrian leader’s uncle to four years in prison | [
"https://www.aljazeera.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/ef33eb494db449598fa1ef64c0ad726c_18.jpeg?resize=770%2C513&quality=80",
"https://www.aljazeera.com/static/media/aj-footer-logo.bac952ad.svg"
] | [] | [] | [
"News",
"Bashar al-Assad",
"Europe",
"France",
"Middle East",
"Syria"
] | null | [
"Al Jazeera"
] | 2020-06-17T00:00:00 | Paris court finds Rifaat al-Assad guilty of acquiring French property using funds diverted from the Syrian state. | en | /favicon_aje.ico | Al Jazeera | https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2020/6/17/france-sentences-syrian-leaders-uncle-to-four-years-in-prison | A Paris court has sentenced the 82-year-old uncle of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad to four years in prison and ordered the confiscation of all his property in France as well as one of his London properties.
Wednesday’s ruling came in a trial that found Rifaat al-Assad guilty of acquiring millions of euros worth of French property using funds diverted from the Syrian state.
According to the ruling, the younger brother of late Syrian President Hafez al-Assad – father of the incumbent president – committed the crimes, including aggravated tax fraud and misappropriation of Syrian funds, between 1984 and 2016. He denies the charges.
Rifaat al-Assad’s trial opened on December 9 last year. He has been under investigation in France since 2014.
This came the year after anti-corruption group Sherpa filed a suit accusing Assad of using ill-gotten gains from corruption in Syria to build a real estate fortune in the country.
Rifaat al-Assad’s real estate holdings were valued at 90 million euros ($99.5m).
Formerly Syria’s vice president, al-Assad left his home country in 1984 after mounting a failed coup against his brother Hafez, who led Syria from 1971 to 2000.
He was dubbed the “Butcher of Hama” for allegedly commanding troops who put down an uprising in central Syria in 1982.
Currently, he describes himself as an opponent of his nephew’s regime.
Lavish lifestyle
After he arrived in Europe, Rifaat al-Assad’s lavish lifestyle, four wives, and 16 children soon raised eyebrows.
His reported French fortune includes two Paris townhouses, one measuring 3,000 square metres (32,000 square feet), as well as a stud farm, a chateau and 7,300 square metres (78,500 square feet) of office space in Lyon.
He and his family also built up a huge portfolio of 507 properties in Spain, valued at about 695 million euros ($782m), Spanish legal documents show. All his properties in that country were seized by the authorities in 2017.
Al-Assad, awarded France’s Legion of Honour in 1986 for “services rendered”, insists his lifestyle was made possible by gifts from the Saudi royal family amounting to more than $1m per month.
But while his lawyers claimed to document gifts of almost $25m between 1984 and 2010, French investigators registered transfers from Saudi Arabia totalling only $10m. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 73 | https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/what-would-reconstruction-really-mean-in-syria | en | What Would Reconstruction Really Mean in Syria? | [
"https://assets.lareviewofbooks.org/uploads/201908DeknatelAleppo.png 640w, https://assets.lareviewofbooks.org/uploads/201908DeknatelAleppo.png 750w, https://assets.lareviewofbooks.org/uploads/201908DeknatelAleppo.png 828w, https://assets.lareviewofbooks.org/uploads/201908DeknatelAleppo.png 1080w, https://assets.lar... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2019-08-06T12:30:19+00:00 | The Syrian War will eventually end. But the physical damage will last. | /icons/favicon/favicon.ico | Los Angeles Review of Books | https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/what-would-reconstruction-really-mean-in-syria | HE MAY NOT be able to return to Syria, but when Nihad Sirees sits down to write in Berlin, Aleppo never seems that far away.
“Hayy Sakhour, al-Sha’ar, al-Muasalat, al-Hanano — all of them I know now as I know my own desk,” he said, listing the names of vanished neighborhoods. They were all parts of eastern Aleppo, the half of the city that fell under rebel control for four years and became the world’s worst urban battlefield since Sarajevo 1992, if not Berlin 1945, until Bashar al-Assad’s regime and its Russian allies forced the rebels out under a blitz in late 2016.
Like so many Syrians who escaped the war, Sirees watched it all on a screen, following streams of social media posts, YouTube videos, and other desperate documentation from Syrians who couldn’t escape the suffering in places like eastern Aleppo: barrel bombs dropped from regime helicopters, mortars and improvised explosives fired by Islamist rebels, thunderous airstrikes by Russian jets, the static of gunfire, dead silence.
Before the war, the neighborhoods of Aleppo that became synonymous with the conflict’s brutality and destruction were the city’s working-class areas, neglected by the government. That same government, back in control of Aleppo, is unlikely to rebuild them.
Bashar al-Assad probably had eastern Aleppo and its residents in mind when he strode confidently to a stage in Damascus two years ago and told an audience of his supporters what Syria, in his words, had “won” in the war — which wasn’t over at the time and still isn’t, even though the regime has steadily retaken territory from its opponents. “We lost the best of our youth and our infrastructure,” Assad said. “It cost us a lot of money and a lot of sweat, for generations. But in exchange, we won a healthier and more homogeneous society in the true sense.”
A general who runs one of Syria’s many security branches reportedly echoed that sinister triumphalism last year, telling other officers, “A Syria with 10 million trustworthy people obedient to the leadership is better than a Syria with 30 million vandals.”
According to the regime’s rhetoric, it has been fighting “terrorists” and “foreign aggressors” since Syrians took to the streets to protest decades of Assad family rule in 2011. Assad’s forces have bombed hospitals and whole neighborhoods, claiming terrorists had taken over. When Russia’s air force joined in, it justified airstrikes on Aleppo and other cities as a form of counterterrorism. Bashar inherited this strategy from his father, Hafez al-Assad, who razed much of the city of Hama in 1982 to suppress a rebellion led by the Muslim Brotherhood.
Sirees knows the regime, not least because his home city of Aleppo was also part of that earlier uprising in the 1980s and was punished for it. He knows it hasn’t changed. There is a mantra that Syrian soldiers and pro-Assad militias have scrawled on the skeletons of buildings across the country over the past eight years: “Assad, or we burn the country.” Sirees knows what will come out of the ashes.
It won’t be reconstruction. How does a country rebuild after it has been torched? After its economy has cratered, and when its cities and towns are strewn with millions of tons of rubble? Where nearly two-thirds of all residential and light industrial areas are either heavily damaged or destroyed? And where the still-rising death toll no longer makes the news, even though more than half a million people have died, and more than six million have fled as refugees?
Rebuilding Syria, after nearly eight years of war, is estimated to cost some $388 billion, according to the latest estimate by the United Nations — a number that seems both strangely precise and staggeringly large, and also keeps rising. But it won’t happen, at least not yet. Even if and when it does, the regime’s goal won’t really be reconstructing the country that existed before the war. Instead, keen to declare victory on its terms, at all costs, Assad’s regime is eyeing reconstruction as a chance to consolidate what is left of Syria today — and if it can, to cash in.
“The regime is so corrupted, and surrounded with corrupted people,” Sirees told me of the prospects for reconstruction and lucrative rebuilding contracts, shaking his head of cloud-white hair. “Rebuilding is like a golden egg. Everyone sits and is waiting to get it, or to get a good part of it.”
An engineer by training, Sirees ran his own engineering office in Aleppo before he turned to writing. “Rebuilding is now theories, plans, papers, and charts,” he said. “No one knows when they will start.” The Assad regime would like the world to think otherwise. It has been declaring Syria ready to be rebuilt for years, hosting so-called reconstruction fairs on the outskirts of Damascus even as the war raged around them. A former rebel stronghold lies in ruins nearby, and wrecked buildings line the highway running from the fairground to the center of the capital. In 2017, a mortar attack on the fair reportedly killed six people. But the regime has remained on-message. “The process of eradicating terrorism has reached its final stages, and the reconstruction phase is knocking on the doors,” Hussein Arnous, the minister of housing and public works, proclaimed in opening the fair last year.
Sirees is the author of seven novels and a play, but it was his screenplays that really made him famous in the Arab world. Before Syria was synonymous with civil war, it was known for better things — including its hugely popular soap operas, called musalsalat, the best of which were broadcast across the region, where everyone seems to have a satellite TV, or at least access to one at a café or the barber’s. In 1998, his series The Silk Market, a period piece set in Aleppo’s celebrated Old City, premiered on Syrian television. It was an immediate hit. But it was also sly, with a subversive story line about Syria’s political and social upheaval in the late 1950s and early 1960s, and how the Ba’ath Party had exploited it to seize power.
The government censors somehow didn’t catch all this until after the show had aired, so fame for Sirees came with something else: a very public backlash from a cruel, authoritarian regime. He was condemned as a traitor by that same Ba’ath Party, still in power years later in the twilight of Hafez al-Assad’s rule. Smeared by state media, Sirees was driven from public life in his own county. His books were banned. But he stayed in Aleppo, maintaining a low profile and shielded, as much as he could be, by his popularity. His books, published in Beirut, kept selling.
Then, in 2011, the protests against Bashar al-Assad began. Sirees fled the next year, before the popular uprising really reached Aleppo, but after the regime had tortured and shot protesters in the streets of other Syrian cities and towns, provoking armed resistance that erupted into full-blown civil war. He first went to Cairo and then all the way to Rhode Island for a visiting writer position at Brown University. He later made his way to Berlin. His daughter still lives in Aleppo, with her two children, but he knows he can’t go back. “I will go to prison,” he told me, “because my name is on their blacklist over what I wrote.”
The return of complete government control in his hometown has prompted some token projects with symbolic value, most of all at the heavily damaged Umayyad Mosque, in the heart of Aleppo’s battered Old City, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Before the war, the Old City was famous for its well-preserved medieval urban fabric — narrow, meandering alleyways, miles of markets under vaulted stone roofs, and a unique density of other historic mosques, madrasas, and palaces going back as far as the 12th and 13th centuries. The Old City marked the frontline in the battle over Aleppo, and it shows it today. The medieval souq is mostly a burned-out husk. Some of those mosques and madrasas, including one complex designed by the great Ottoman architect Sinan, are nothing but craters. UNESCO estimates that 60 percent of the Old City’s buildings were severely damaged in the war, and 30 percent completely destroyed.
That includes the Umayyad Mosque’s iconic minaret, which was toppled in 2013 — by the regime’s own artillery, according to most accounts. The minaret, though, is now being put back together. But is this really reconstruction? Sirees doesn’t think so. “I don’t think that to fix an arch somewhere in the Old City, or a minaret — it is not rebuilding.”
Yet that is exactly why the work underway at the Great Mosque is the story of Aleppo’s reconstruction so far: it is shrouded in propaganda and triumphalism, only the authorities in Damascus and their allies are involved, and it’s hard to know what’s actually happening on the ground. Military engineers are running the restoration — rather than the Ministry of Culture, the Directorate-General of Antiquities and Museums, or the Ministry of Religious Endowments, which otherwise administers the mosque. The main engineer in charge of managing the Great Mosque’s restoration told a Western journalist in Aleppo last year: “I have no idea why I was chosen for this job. Before this project, I built Aleppo airport.”
Aleppo is, in turn, the story of Syria’s wider reconstruction in all its ambiguities. The Assad regime is prioritizing what to rebuild and what not to. It will restore symbolic sites that are considered useful for propaganda purposes but neglect the devastated stretches of the city that made the mistake of supporting the opposition — and were once home to so many of the refugees who have fled Syria. “The regime has two possible areas of interest in reconstruction,” Amr al-Azm, a Syrian archeologist from Damascus and a professor of history and anthropology at Shawnee State University, in Ohio, told me. “One, as a means to reward those areas and individuals that were loyal to it. Two, for the regime’s coterie to enrich itself.”
Any postwar reconstruction has contingencies, but in addition to what the Assad regime really wants, ambiguity exists on a more practical and even technical level. Does anyone agree on what reconstruction means in Syria, and what it should entail?
¤
“The question that always comes up is, well, what is reconstruction?” Moises Venancio, a senior program advisor for the United Nations Development Program in Syria and neighboring countries, told me in a recent interview in New York. “One thing is, it has never been defined, which is good and bad, and has allowed everybody to kind of move.” When the UNDP talks about reconstruction, he said, “we’re really talking normally about significant multi-year programs that look at the rehabilitation and/or construction of significant infrastructure in a particular country. And that’s not what we’re involved in in Syria — and frankly nobody is at this point in time. It just requires funding sources that certainly are not available right now.”
In addition to imposing sanctions on the Syrian regime, the United States and most European governments say they won’t help fund major reconstruction as long as Assad is entrenched in power, but he’s not going anywhere as an endgame nears after eight years of war. The official position of the United Nations is that it won’t support physical reconstruction in Syria until there is a viable political transition underway, and the war has not ended. (This is why UNESCO isn’t involved in the Great Mosque’s reconstruction in Aleppo, or other projects to restore the many cultural heritage sites damaged across Syria.) Political talks to resolve the fighting have been dragging on in various forms since the civil war began. There have been four rounds in Geneva, all unsuccessful; since 2016, following Russia’s intervention in Syria, talks moved to Astana, in Kazakhstan, and Sochi. They’re all like Waiting for Godot. Assad didn’t survive for all these years, destroying much of the country in the process, to step aside in a negotiated settlement.
But despite the lack of definition about reconstruction and the lack of money, the UN is still actively involved in Syria, including in projects that might sound a lot like efforts to rebuild. “We don’t do reconstruction; no one does reconstruction in Syria,” as Venancio put the current situation. Yet the UNDP does fund smaller projects — all classified as humanitarian assistance and described by the UN as “rehabilitation,” “recovery,” and “community resilience,” in 13 of Syria’s 14 governorates. That means local-level assistance to restore basic essential services, like sewage networks, water lines, or electricity, as well as repairing schools and hospitals. In 2018, the UNDP says that this work directly benefited some 111,000 Syrians, with more than two and a half million more benefiting indirectly from improved infrastructure and services. The UNDP’s funding goal for this year, to continue that assistance in Syria, is $45 million; as of March, though, it was still $17 million short. This is important, life-saving work, but it still only represents about .01 percent of the overall reconstruction needed in Syria, based on those latest staggering estimates.
There are strict protocols to distinguish this activity from actual reconstruction, and a grim calculus determines what the UNDP and other UN agencies can do. Take a school in eastern Aleppo. The UNDP, in coordination with UNICEF, can repair a school whose structure is only partially damaged. But it cannot help rebuild a school destroyed down to its foundation. As one official at the UNDP’s office in Damascus explained to me: “The red line is 30 to 40 percent of the initial level. So if damage goes beyond 30 to maximum 40 percent of the initial volume of the building, then we consider it reconstruction and we don’t intervene,” given the limitations on the UN’s activities in Syria for what might be considered reconstruction.
This official, who has visited Aleppo many times, recalled having to turn down a request from a neighborhood committee in one eastern Aleppo neighborhood whose school was too destroyed to be rebuilt, even though they and their UNICEF colleagues had the resources to help them. The official, like those colleagues, wished the policy were different. “There should be a clear distinction between reconstructing something that will benefit the war economy — that would benefit the regime — and rehabilitating a service that would be essential for providing the minimum assistance to people,” such as a school, this official added. Rebuilding more schools would also help avoid what they called “the potential perfect ground for another future ISIS to arise.” UNICEF estimates that there have been more than 4,000 attacks on schools during the war; today, 1.75 million Syrian children are still out of school, mostly because they don’t have one to go to.
¤
Syria’s Ministry of Tourism has a surprisingly active YouTube account, given the state of affairs. In quick promotional reels, many no more than a minute long, it shares glossy snapshots of Syria meant to remind viewers of better days — or to distract from the current reality. Increasingly, though, the ministry has been looking ahead.
A video uploaded to its account last November presented an optimistic view of Aleppo, “between history and the future.” What we don’t see is the fighting that had consumed the city for four years, often street-to-street combat, with snipers everywhere and explosives tunneled under the ancient heart of the city. Other times, it was death from above, usually in the form of the crude barrel bombs dropped from regime helicopters, designed to maximize civilian punishment.
You wouldn’t know any of this from the ministry’s video, which opens with the sun rising over Aleppo’s skyline. It quickly cuts to an aerial shot of the Citadel, the massive medieval fortress built of limestone over a steep hill that lords over the city. In the battle for Aleppo, this medieval military site became a modern military target, as Syrian soldiers set up positions high atop the Citadel to fire on rebel positions below. The battle over, it has the damage to show for it today, with pockmarked parapets and its huge walls blasted by artillery. In the tourism ministry’s YouTube reel, you can’t see much of this damage from on high, but you can make out a giant banner of a beaming Bashar al-Assad, draped over a section of the Citadel’s wall.
Drone footage then pans over the ravaged streets of central Aleppo below, where excavators and trucks move piles of rubble, kicking up clouds of dust in the sun, and where workers in yellow vests stand on scaffolding that surrounds an Ottoman-era clock tower, another city landmark and bright spot among all the debris. Before returning to the Citadel — whose stout, imposing entrance, built to repel Crusaders, is also draped in an enormous Assad banner and Syrian flag — the video then hovers over a huge crane standing over the Umayyad Mosque.
UNESCO considers the mosque, also known as Aleppo’s Great Mosque, “one of the architectural masterpieces of the Muslim world.” The crane is roughly where the mosque’s 1,000-year-old minaret once stood, in its northwest corner. Built when Aleppo was ruled by a dynasty of Seljuk Turks, the square minaret was adorned with Kufic inscriptions and intricate carvings. Since Aleppo’s Old City had retained its medieval-era skyline for centuries, the 150-foot minaret dominated the views around it for more than 900 years.
It collapsed on April 24, 2013. The Assad regime said “terrorists” blew it up. The rebels blamed the regime. Months earlier, the minaret had been damaged by shelling fired from the Citadel — the direction of regime forces. A city was being destroyed around it, with all the accompanying human suffering, but the ancient minaret seemed to singularly capture the war’s toll, at least in news reports. Architecture has a way of doing that in war, from the Bamiyan Buddhas, dynamited by the Taliban in Afghanistan, to St. Paul’s Cathedral, standing amid the smoke and rubble of London during the Blitz. But while London’s intact cathedral had symbolized something about the resilience of Britons despite their suffering under German bombs, Aleppo’s ruined mosque had a bleaker message, expressing the scale of devastation of Syria’s civil war.
But things look more optimistic in the tourism ministry’s video. The ancient minaret in no longer reduced to a jumbled pile of limestone spilling out into the mosque’s crumbling courtyard. You can see that workers have collected those stones into neat piles. Some catalog them, and others are shown cutting and stacking new stones.
The minaret and the rest of the Great Mosque are being rebuilt, and the work is being paid for by Aleppo’s newest patron: Ramzan Kadyrov, the strongman of Chechnya and one of Vladimir Putin’s protégés. In 2017, an opaque quasi-charity that is named after Kadyrov’s father — a former Chechen rebel commander turned Putin ally who was killed in a bombing in Grozny 2004 — announced via Russia’s state news agency, TASS, that it had donated $14 million to reconstruct the Great Mosque. The Akhmad Kadyrov Regional Public Foundation was also funding the reconstruction of the badly damaged, late Ottoman-era Khalid Ibn al-Walid Mosque in the ruins of Homs.
The TASS story that trumpeted Kadyrov’s donation quoted the mufti of Aleppo, the city’s highest religious authority, who stuck to the regime line that the destruction of the Great Mosque “was all done by militants and terrorists.” Kadyrov, the mufti said, had “vowed to fully restore the building even if more money will be needed.” In promoting Kadyrov and his charity, official Russian media added a pointed message about who, it claimed, was helping rebuild Aleppo, and who wasn’t: “No other international foundation or organization, including UNESCO, has so far offered any assistance.”
¤
A year ago, Diana Darke, a British writer who lived in Damascus for several years before the war and has written two recent books on Syria, visited Aleppo, having snuck her way on to a pro-government tour. She spoke with the main engineer in charge of managing the Great Mosque’s restoration, a man named Misbah Baqi. According to Darke, he works for a construction company controlled by the Syrian military, “and takes orders directly from the president’s office, not, as would be usual, from the Ministry of Religious Affairs,” which otherwise oversees sites like the Great Mosque.
The regime may be in charge there now, but other Syrians had helped protect the mosque any way they could during the worst days of the war. Dodging snipers’ bullets, young Syrians, many of them architects and archeologists in training from Aleppo University, built a barrier of bricks to shield the decoratively tiled Tomb of Zechariah, where worshippers pray to the father of John the Baptist. Others constructed a protective, padlocked case around the 14th-century sundial in the mosque’s large marbled courtyard, with sandbags and masonry. The secured sundial was still standing there last year, according to Darke, “seals intact, somehow overlooked by engineers and propagandists, a small and solitary but defiant reminder of who protected what in this seven-year war.”
The UNDP official in Damascus told me recently that military engineers remain at work in the Great Mosque, rather than experts from the Ministry of Culture or the Syrian government’s antiquities authority, the Directorate-General of Antiquities and Museums. “What they have done is make a very detailed inventory of every stone that is on the ground and compare it with photographs of the minaret before the war, in order to try to rebuild it,” the official said. But, they added, the real work “hasn’t started,” and the military is directing everything.
The mosque sits in the center of Aleppo’s Old City, which UNESCO designated a World Heritage Site in 1986. Today, given the scale of destruction around the Great Mosque, it looks like the worst part of the Old City, according to this UNDP official. “So even this reconstruction of the mosque and the minaret, although it’s symbolic, at the end of the day it’s paradoxical, because nobody lives around there,” they added.
And even then, “We are only talking about the Old City.” The damage is much worse in the neighborhoods of eastern Aleppo that are seared into Sirees’s mind. Not far from the Old City, and sometimes described as slums, these neighborhoods expanded rapidly in the years before the war, absorbing an influx of poorer people from Aleppo’s rural and mostly Sunni outskirts, who moved into the city to work in factories and live in cheaply built, densely packed apartments. It was a trend throughout Syria in the immediate years before the war — urban populations boomed, in large part because of an extreme drought across the Syrian countryside that drove people into the cities. Many of those buildings in eastern Aleppo that had been hastily built to take in this influx of people are now flattened, reduced to gnarled piles of concrete and rebar — among the more than 35,000 homes estimated to have been destroyed or damaged in the battle over Aleppo, according to satellite imagery analysis by the United Nations.
The fighting may have ended, but eastern Aleppo still looks like no-man’s land. On a UN visit last year, the official from Damascus remembers driving for kilometers through neighborhoods like al-Hanano and al-Sha’ar, where they saw only two things: destruction and looting. “Even the frames from the windows have been stolen,” they said. “And there’s no sign whatsoever of investment in reconstruction.”
If reconstruction is the next stage of Syria’s war, it will unfold like the others — as a grinding stalemate. Emboldened by its near-victory amid the ashes, Assad’s government insists it will only award contracts for reconstruction to “friendly countries.” “We welcome any assistance with reconstruction from those countries that were not part of the aggression on Syria,” Foreign Minister Walid al-Moualem declared at last year’s UN General Assembly, putting the uprising and civil war in the regime’s usual terms. “The countries that offer only conditional assistance or continue to support terrorism, they are neither invited nor welcome to help.”
The regime’s goals are already evident where it has re-established control. Last year, it passed a controversial measure, known simply as Law 10, to seize abandoned properties and redevelop the devastated land in the name of reconstruction. Critics allege it is a way to make the war’s demographic shifts permanent while enriching Assad’s cronies, since the areas it targets were poor, informally developed, and Sunni-majority before the war, like the neighborhoods of eastern Aleppo. Developments involving a crew of businessmen tied to the regime are underway. The most prominent, called Marota City, promises glittering high-rises and blocks of modernist mid-rises over expropriated and razed land in a Damascus suburb. It is currently Syria’s largest investment project.
But most of the world is still withholding money. Especially in Washington, policymakers argue that aid money for Syria, even for humanitarian purposes or what is generally called “stabilization” — which might cover the kind of recovery work the UNDP does, as well as things like removing land mines — could inadvertently go to supporting the war economy, profiteers, and Assad’s own interests. Government forces in Syria have a long track record of blocking international aid convoys from entering opposition areas or seizing them outright, and many fear funds for reconstruction — or recovery or rehabilitation, depending on the definition — could be co-opted too. “The U.S. is funding the UN inside Syria, while the Syrian government plays dirty politics with the aid we pay for,” Robert Ford, the last American ambassador in Damascus, wrote in an op-ed last year.
The House of Representatives also passed a bill last year, the No Assistance for Assad Act, that would have banned any American funding in government-controlled parts of Syria, with the exception of basic humanitarian aid — essentially codifying in law the position of not aiding reconstruction as long as Assad is in power. It never got past the Senate, but a new effort is making its way through Congress that would impose harsh additional sanctions on countries and third parties involved in Syrian reconstruction.
Will this official US line against funding reconstruction hold? There is little sign that Europe is thinking otherwise, though some countries, like Italy, are considering reopening their embassies in Damascus as the reality of Assad’s position sets in. Earlier this year, the European Union expanded its sanctions against financial supporters of the regime to cover 11 additional Syrian businessmen and five companies. One of them, Samer Foz, has pitched himself as the middleman for reconstruction and is behind the Marota City project in Damascus. He got rich throughout the war as many businessmen fled, selling everything from wheat to cement, and owns a steel plant in Homs, Syria’s third-largest city, where new rebar is being forged from melted-down scrap metal. In a rare interview with The Wall Street Journal last year, he said European countries should work with him to help rebuild Syria “to draw refugees back.” As the Journal wrote, Foz “wants the furnaces of his Homs steel plant to be a cornerstone of Syrian reconstruction even before a political settlement.”
Other Arab states might get involved, most of all Syria’s neighbor Lebanon, which has its own recent history with rebuilding a country — and especially a city, in Beirut — ripped apart by its own civil war. But those with the most financial resources — like Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, which have both cultivated close ties with President Donald Trump — also funded the armed opposition to Assad. They have their own interests at stake. “They’re not going to want to throw money in so the Iranians jump in, or the Russians jump in, or Rami Makhlouf or some other Syrian regime leech jumps in and enriches themselves,” as Amr al-Azm put it. Makhlouf is Assad’s cousin, a telecom tycoon who seemed to have a stake in everything in Syria before the war and has been under US and European sanctions for years.
The biggest obstacle to any reconstruction, and why any efforts greater than humanitarian aid are talk for now, are sanctions. How do you get the money in? No matter how many billions might be pledged, there are still sanctions. “And most countries, unless you’re Russia or China, are not going to sanctions-bust,” Azm said. International funds for Syria must go through its Central Bank, which is exactly what sanctions are designed to block. Otherwise, “you’re essentially giving the Syrian regime hard currency.”
“The regime knows it,” Azm added, which explains its current thinking about reconstruction and why it “insists that any work — any reconstruction, any activity — has to be done through it or its own agencies.” That way, “it gets its hands on the hard currency,” but more importantly, “it claims legitimacy.”
By broadcasting cheery propaganda about the supposedly busy pace of rebuilding underway in Aleppo, while most of the city in fact lies neglected in ruins, Syria’s Ministry of Tourism is doing its own small part.
¤
Whenever the minaret of the Great Mosque is reconstructed, Aleppo might end up looking more and more like Homs.
Syrian rebels proclaimed Homs the “capital of the revolution” in the early days of the uprising. It then became the regime’s model for how it would prevail in the civil war: Homs was besieged, bombarded, and its residents starved into surrender. Nearly two-thirds of the city has been razed. “We basically don’t have a cityscape anymore,” Marwa al-Sabouni, an architect in Homs, told Architectural Digest.
The city’s main landmark is the Khalid Ibn al-Walid Mosque, which was built in the waning years of the Ottoman Empire in the early 20th century and dedicated to the Arab military commander, a companion of the Prophet Muhammad, who led the seventh-century conquest of Syria and later died in Homs. The mosque was caught in many crossfires in the war’s earliest fighting, and the neighborhood around it all but obliterated by the time a group of ragged rebels evacuated the city in 2014.
Homs has also been left in ruins, with a few exceptions. The Khalid Ibn al-Walid Mosque, with Kadyrov’s funding, has been hastily rebuilt, its signature domes, once riddled with huge holes, reconstructed by military engineers, just like Aleppo’s minaret. A reporter for The National who toured Homs in April 2018 noted that the government was “keen to show off” the mosque’s restoration. Indeed, the Ministry of Tourism features it in another one of its YouTube videos, with aerial footage of the mosque standing desolate in a ghostly city, over a triumphant soundtrack. As one man in Homs told The National’s reporter, “There is no one here to pray in it.”
The limited rebuilding efforts in Homs have otherwise been confined to the city’s Christian neighborhoods, to buttress Assad’s claims of protecting Syria’s religious minorities, including the Alawite sect to which he belongs. The flattened former rebel districts, largely Sunni, have been ignored and left empty. It’s hard not to see those stretches of urban wreckage, emptied of people, as the embodiment of what Assad says was “won” in the war: a society without any of his opponents.
Areas of Aleppo could fit Assad’s vision of victory. Some 450,000 people have returned to the city since early 2017, but the city is paralyzed when it comes to any kind of formal reconstruction. I’ve heard various mentions of a vague, government master plan for the city’s “restoration,” but like most things in Syria, it’s a black box. Instead of planning, there is only propaganda, like the banners around Aleppo that show Assad’s face hovering over an image of the Citadel and promise, “Aleppo in Our Eyes.”
¤
To someone in eastern Aleppo, the question of who can or will fund what — and the more immediate distinction between what the UN defines as rehabilitation, rather than reconstruction — may determine whether or not a neighborhood can get aid money to rebuild their school. In such an uncertain situation, many people are taking matters into their own hands. The first time the UNDP official in Damascus I spoke with went to Aleppo, in August 2017 — some nine months after the government retook the city — all the shops were closed on one war-weary main street. “It was really spectral,” they said. When they went back three months later, after more refugees had returned to Aleppo, “all those shops had opened, and they were all selling cement, iron, other construction materials.”
This is what Syrian reconstruction really looks like for now. Yet the material in those stores wasn’t “for big companies, but for people,” this UNDP official explained. “It’s somebody who is buying two or three bags of cement to rebuild part of the wall of his house, in order to be able to have his family, who returned to Aleppo with him, survive.” Syrians have been left to fend for themselves — to rebuild their homes, or what remains of them, however they can.
To Moises Venancio, the UNDP advisor in New York, the United Nations and other humanitarian organizations still have jobs to do in Syria, despite the frozen political dialogue, the stasis around reconstruction, and all the unknowns about how the civil war might finally end. “When we look at Syria, we have to move beyond that fact of the political process with the authorities in Damascus and think about people, 17 million people, that need assistance,” he said, referring to the country’s diminished population.
Eight years of sanctions haven’t forced Assad to embrace reform, or stop laying siege to rebel areas, or release thousands of prisoners. What is left of Syria’s economy today is more dependent than ever on Iran and Russia. But even if foreign money could flow in, how would the regime spend it? Again, Aleppo and Homs offer some clues. As Azm told me, “The areas that have been most damaged, that most need reconstruction, the areas that were bombed by the regime that produced the refugees in the first place — the regime is not about to go and take all this money and rebuild their homes. It’s going to take the money and reward the areas that were loyal to it.”
The regime is hardly hiding this agenda. From Assad’s recent speeches and statements to the way formerly besieged areas are presented as vanquished on state television, everything exults in conquest. It is, as Azm said, “totally and utterly triumphalist. There’s no disguising it. Not even a fig leaf of an effort to try and somehow suggest post-conflict reconciliation, stabilization, unity. Nothing. ‘We won. We won everything.’”
It may be projection, but it carries a message. If the authorities in Damascus don’t actually foresee a full-fledged reconstruction process, how much leverage over Assad do Western governments really have through sanctions? In the regime’s rhetoric, everything is “post-crisis,” not postwar, and the promise of huge amounts of money from the West to rebuild may not appeal if rebuilding all of Syria isn’t really the goal. Assad has other priorities: consolidating control and territory, and ensuring the diplomatic and military support of his allies. If anything, Russia may be more interested in the benefits of reconstruction, in order to add to the optics about its intervention and proclaim that it — not Washington — is stabilizing Syria. Then it can justify pulling more of its forces out of the country.
The patronage from Putin’s Chechen protégé to pay for the hasty restoration of two cherished mosques in Aleppo and Homs fits right in. “Even the minaret has a political background,” Nihad Sirees said of the work in the heart of Aleppo’s Old City. It has its soft-power potential. “The Russians, they want to tell the Syrian people: Look, we respect Islam and Islamic heritage.” For Kadyrov, Islamic charity has its own propaganda purposes at home. “The Chechen government participates because they want to tell their people that they care about Islam, and about Islamic heritage.” But that still leaves the rest of Aleppo, like so much of Syria, in a state of ruin.
¤
Frederick Deknatel is the managing editor of World Politics Review.
¤
Feature image: "Syria: two years of tragedy" by Foreign and Commonwealth Office is licensed under CC BY-ND. 2.0. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 85 | https://awards.journalists.org/entries/al-jazeera-english-breaking-coverage-of-the-turkey-syria-earthquake/ | en | Al Jazeera English Breaking Coverage of the Turkey/Syria Earthquake | [
"https://awards.journalists.org/wp-content/themes/gridstack/images/sprites.png",
"https://awards.journalists.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2017/04/oja-logo.png",
"https://awards.journalists.org/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2023/07/Al-Jazeera-English-Breaking-Coverage-of-the-Turkey-Syria-Earthquake-1.jpg?w=426&h=... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2023-07-20T22:52:23+00:00 | Read More | en | /wp-content/themes/awards/icons/apple-icon-57x57.png | Online Journalism Awards | https://awards.journalists.org/entries/al-jazeera-english-breaking-coverage-of-the-turkey-syria-earthquake/ | About the Project
On February 6, 2023, a series of powerful earthquakes ravaged southeastern Turkey and northern Syria, tearing down buildings, wiping out towns and killing over 50,000 people.
As a global media organization headquartered in the Middle East, the tremors hit close to home. Yet even as messages of condolence for deceased loved ones from among our colleagues began trickling in, we swiftly put together a plan to cover the immediate aftermath of the earthquakes.
Reporting on such crises is always challenging, but we had an advantage: years of experience covering Turkey and Syria in depth, a reliable rolodex of contacts there; and our rich understanding of both countries and the broader region.
That allowed our news desks in Doha, London, Washington and Kuala Lumpur to get to work within minutes of the first alerts about the earthquakes. Our editors reached out to correspondents on the ground, survivors and aid workers in the worst-hit areas. Our short documentaries unit immediately deployed its chief correspondent to the quake’s epicenter.
We built our reporting around a few key pillars: quick, accurate news updates our readers could trust; audiovisual and text-based explainers decoding and contextualising what had happened; and human stories capturing the pain, hope, compassion, heroism and anger of the moment.
Anchoring our coverage was a live blog that we set up almost immediately. As rescue teams worked around the clock, survivors defied death for days under rubble, communities shared their meagre resources with each other, and foreign aid workers and diplomats arrived, the blog was a one-stop window for millions of readers into the myriad facets of the frantic relief efforts. Al Jazeera’s reporters fed powerful ground reporting to the blog in difficult circumstances.
Meanwhile our data lab put together multiple timely infographics showing the location of the earthquakes, how big they were and how more than a hundred aftershocks had struck to flatten what little had remained standing after the main temblors. We used satellite images to show the scale of the devastation.
On Twitter, we posted detailed threads explaining what had happened and what was happening, with maps, graphics and links to our features, analyses and other articles. Our marquee video shows pivoted in real time: Start Here, which breaks down big news events in ways that are easy to understand, put out an explainer on the web and on Instagram.
And through it all we made sure that the rising death toils, the mounting economic loss and the simmering geopolitics did not mask the faces and people at the center of the story: internally displaced Syrians digging though ruins without help; ordinary women and men opening their doors to strangers needing a roof; or an infant baby born under the rubble.
All of this laid the foundation for weeks of subsequent sustained coverage across digital, video and social platforms — like this short documentary on the tireless rescue teams that saw life and loss up close, day after day, but stuck to the call of duty. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 29 | https://www.visapourlimage.com/en/festival/exhibitions/syrie-dans-homs | en | Syria, inside Homs | [
"https://www.visapourlimage.com/assets/f1920x1070-q85-p1/2a5fc408/inside_syria_02_mani.jpg",
"https://www.visapourlimage.com/assets/w1300-q85-p1/2a5fc408/inside_syria_10_mani.jpg",
"https://www.visapourlimage.com/assets/w1300-q85-p1/2a5fc408/inside_syria_06_mani.jpg",
"https://www.visapourlimage.com/assets/w1... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | Syria, inside Homs, Visa pour l’image | en | /themes/VPITheme/static/favicons/apple-touch-icon.png | Visa pour l’image | https://www.visapourlimage.com/en/festival/exhibitions/syrie-dans-homs | Winner of the 2012 ICRC Humanitarian Visa d’or Award – International Committee of the Red Cross
Shortly before the Syrian uprising, the first people to sense that revolution was on the way were the most determined opponents of Bashar el-Assad’s régime. They could still remember 1982 and the Hama massacre, the cruel epilogue to crush an Islamist revolt that had been going on for three years. At the time, the régime was led by Hafez el-Assad, the father of the current president, who had no qualms about firing heavy weapons on the fourth largest city in the country, leaving thousands dead, although no official figures were ever released. (According to estimates, the number of dead was between 10 000 and 20 000.)
The opponents were right. Since March 17, 2011, and the first killings in Deraa in the south of the country, the Syrian regime has again opted for a military response, plus a few purely cosmetic reforms on the side. When massive crowds gained control of the streets, peacefully, the régime was faced with a challenge, and attempted to push part of the opposition movement into armed confrontation, an area where it believed it held the advantage.
Under this pressure, the Free Syrian Army formed, their ranks filled with deserters and civilians, and the angry demonstrations still continued every Friday. Bashar el-Assad’s calculation turned out to be short-sighted, as a classical guerilla force took shape, prepared to concede terrain when concentrated forces sent in by the regime from time to time proved to be too powerful, and then quick to return once the armored vehicles had set off for another rebel stronghold. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 9 | https://www.fitzmuseum.cam.ac.uk/dept/coins/collection/watson/page286.html | en | [
"https://www.fitzmuseum.cam.ac.uk/dept/coins/collection/watson/images/M28_000.jpg",
"https://www.fitzmuseum.cam.ac.uk/dept/coins/collection/watson/images/M28_r_000.jpg"
] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | null | Naval General Service Medal, with bar for Syria, awarded to Francis Noake 1848
<- Previous | Next ->
Back to gallery page
Naval General Service Medal, 1848 (Ottoman-Egyptian War) | |||||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 65 | https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/syriasource/the-evolution-of-syrian-revolutionary-art/ | en | The evolution of Syrian revolutionary art | [
"https://px.ads.linkedin.com/collect/?pid=1698650&fmt=gif",
"https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/03/ACYellow-adjust.png",
"https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/wp-content/themes/atlantic-council/dist/images/icon-search.svg",
"http://www.atlanticcouncil.org/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/ALSHAAB_4_a... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Reema Hibrawi"
] | 2019-08-05T17:23:57+00:00 | Perhaps, it is unsurprising then, that political posters and street art became so ubiquitous in the Syrian Revolution. The regimes of the Middle East knew the political potential for art. For this reason, it has always been closely monitored. | en | Atlantic Council | https://www.atlanticcouncil.org/blogs/syriasource/the-evolution-of-syrian-revolutionary-art/ | By Natasha Hall
When protests broke out in Syria in early 2011, the demonstrators demanded the end of the national emergency law—in place for over 40 years—, and other basic democratic reforms. Syrian President Bashar al-Assad paid lip service to all of these demands well before 2011 so, in light of protests sweeping the Arab World, demonstrators must have felt that such requests were not especially outlandish.
Then, in February 2011, a groups of boys scribbled anti-regime graffiti walls outside their school in Daraa. “It’s your turn doctor,” they spray painted, referring to Bashar al Assad, who was formerly an ophthalmologist. Graffiti certainly wasn’t rare, but the regime understood its possible implications to the point where ID was needed to buy spray cans if the government needed to find the buyers. The boys, who painted graffiti on their school as a lark, were arrested and brutally tortured. Disregarding the danger of dissent, the community came to protest in large numbers in the streets. As my interview with Dan Gorman, director of the Shubbak Festival said, “the curtain of fear had been pierced.”
Perhaps, it is unsurprising then, that political posters and street art became so ubiquitous in the Syrian Revolution. The importance of graffiti, murals, and political posters is not unique to Syria or the Middle East. The Cuban and Russian revolutions produced iconic images synonymous with those struggles. The Vietnamese struggle against outside interference produced propaganda posters still sold in Hanoi today. Many of the political posters of the Syrian revolution actually seem inspired by the Palestinian struggle.
As part of the public space, the use of graffiti and murals as a form of expression naturally connects with the general public more so than art hung in galleries. The internet amplified these images beyond their walls and shared their messages with millions of people, not just in Syria, but worldwide. It made street art—vulnerable to weather, bombardment, and whitewashing—permanent. When Abu Malik Al-Shami, the young street artist made famous by his murals in Daraya, was forced to evacuate to Idlib in 2016, he took pictures of his murals, which have since spread online.
To the regime, nothing could be more horrifying than the ability to disseminate these images widely. This is why the instigators of these ideas were often eliminated. In October 2013, a Palestinian actor named Hassan Hassan, was taken by the regime as he was trying to leave Yarmouk Camp south of Damascus. Hassan had taped sketches of himself mocking the regime. His family was informed of his death two months later. In October 2015, Palestinian award-winning photographer, Niraz Saied, was arrested. Niraz had photographed the conditions of the government-imposed siege on Yarmouk. His images were shared widely around the world. At the end of 2018, his family was informed that he died in prison. These young artists challenged the regime’s narrative that it was the protector of the Palestinian struggle.
The regimes of the Middle East knew the political potential for art. For this reason, it has always been closely monitored. Prior to the revolution, writers and artists in Syria were encouraged to join government-sponsored unions. Syrian dissident artists had to play a delicate balance between a desire to criticize the regime, the risk of publicizing genuine criticism, and the fear that their work would be co-opted as government propaganda, as what Miriam Cooke calls “commissioned criticism.” The regime expertly understood how small allowances of dissent improved their image without lobbing any real threat at the system. After the Russian Revolution succeeded, the Soviets too, understood the possible dangers of artistic free expression. To combat this, they strictly enforced socialist realism, their own brand of acceptable art. Anything that diverged was considered a threat. Sergei Parajanov, a Soviet film director and artist of Armenian descent, who invented his own unique cinematic style, was jailed for years along with other artists during the Soviet period; their work banned across the USSR. Others like artist Aleksander Drevin were killed for their work.
The role of political art and murals may mean little to millions of IDPs in Syria and refugees today. Photos and paintings did not change the outcome for the victims of the Syrian war. Rather than instigating positive change, the protest songs and graffiti put a price on their heads. With Raed Fares and Abdul Basset al-Sarout, icons of the Syrian revolution, killed in just the past few months and the regime edging closer to its goal of taking every inch of Syria, the heady days of the Syrian revolution seem long gone.
At the same time, Russia, the Syrian regime’s stalwart ally, is waging a highly effective international war on the cheap; spreading fake news to sow chaos in Europe, former Soviet republics, Syria, and the US. In addition to interfering with the 2016 US presidential election, Russia has spread misinformation on the Syrian war, suggesting that peaceful protestors were part of a global conspiracy, that the civilian victims of aerial bombardment are actors, and that search and rescue workers are terrorists.
However, the Russian and Syrian regimes’ efforts in the media and online betray their desire to win, not just the military war, but the narrative war. In this respect, thousands of political exiles, artists, and cartoonists scattered around the world, have an important role to play along with archivists. Since 2011, various collectives have been archiving hundreds of images, from political graffiti to the infamous political satire posters from Kafranbel. The sheer number of images from across Syria demonstrate how widespread the revolution was and still is.
Kesh Malek (meaning Check Mate) is a civil society organization that aimed to reach the world through its Syria Banksy initiative. Recently, they countered the regime propaganda, espoused by the musician Roger Waters against Syrian search and rescue volunteers, with a poster targeted to the Pink Floyd artist’s misinformed statements. The image in Idlib, Syria depicts Waters carrying an assault rifle with a caption that reads, “A message from Syrians in Idlib to Roger Waters: Hey you, don’t help them to bury the light,” referencing Pink Floyd lyrics.
These images continue to be a part of Syria’s collective memory, a call to arms, and a venting of frustrations. As Malu Halasa, co-editor of Syria Speaks – Art and Culture from the Frontline, said, the Syrian revolution is a story of “how the street became visible.” In so doing, these works have leaked out of Syria onto our collective conscience, both as pieces of artwork and political expression. Even the establishment British Museum displayed various pieces of Syrian protest art as part of the museum’s “Living Histories” exhibit. The collection featured many works by the anonymous poster collective Alshaab Alsori Aref Tarekh (The Syrian People Know Their Way). The Creative Memory of the Syrian Revolution has also archived hundreds of images with statistics on the words used and the number of walls painted per month.
As the situation grows to be more desperate in Syria and the regime continues to bombard marked hospitals without international interference, the number of political images emerging from Syria has dropped markedly since the first years of the revolution. For Syrians, it does not seem as though anyone is listening, but that doesn’t stop some from writing captions in English to reach a wider audience. There is still a movement to save those left in opposition-held areas from aerial bombardment, release prisoners, and find information on the disappeared. For Syrians in danger every day, the war is not over and the narrative war for the history of the revolution has just begun. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 67 | https://www.brookings.edu/articles/the-struggle-for-syria-chapter-two/ | en | The struggle for Syria, Chapter Two | [
"https://www.brookings.edu/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/2024-07-23T123654Z_416632770_RC2O09ATETW0_RTRMADP_3_USA-ELECTION-HARRIS-1.jpg?quality=75&w=500",
"https://www.brookings.edu/wp-content/uploads/2024/07/exterior-of-US-Treasury-building-against-storm-clouds.jpg?quality=75&w=500",
"https://www.brookings.edu/wp-... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"William B. Quandt",
"The Brookings Institution",
"Dror Michman",
"Yael Mizrahi-Arnaud",
"Kemal Kirişci",
"Mara Karlin",
"Friedrich Püttmann",
"Alper Coşkun",
"Itamar Rabinovich"
] | 2018-02-20T18:23:04+00:00 | Seven years after what began as a peaceful uprising transformed into a vicious civil war, there is fierce competition between regional and international actors over Syria's future. And as the internal dimension seems to be abating, the regional and international conflicts have been exacerbated. | en | https://www.brookings.edu/wp-content/themes/brookings/assets/images/favicons/favicon.ico | Brookings | https://www.brookings.edu/articles/the-struggle-for-syria-chapter-two/ | In Seale’s history of Syria, the two Hashemite monarchies in Iraq and Jordan sought to take control of the Syrian state while their Arab rivals, the Egyptian-Saudi axis, fought to frustrate these efforts. Britain and France, the former colonial powers, intervened in Syrian politics directly or through their Arab partners. The United States intervened in Syrian politics when the CIA collaborated with Syria first military dictator, Husni Zaim. The Soviet Union was not yet an actor in this arena, and Turkey was looking west rather than south. The Syrian state was controlled by the old nationalist urban Sunni elite that had fought the French for the unity and independence of a country whose boundaries were arbitrarily established by the European colonial powers. The process of integrating the outlying areas, the Alawite and Druze regions in the west and the south and the Jazeera in the northeast, proved difficult. The parliamentary system did not function well, and the rise of radical ideological parties and the military’s intervention in politics further fragmented and radicalized the country’s politics. Finally, the Syrians found refuge by merging their country with Egypt in the United Arab Republic.
Syria seceded from that failed union in 1961 and struggled for several years to consolidate its renewed independent existence. The Ba’ath party was brought to power in March 1963 by a military cabal affiliated with the party. A member of that cabal, Hafez al-Assad, finally took over in November 1970 and ruled Syria for 30 years until his death in June 2000. Assad built the Syrian state and turned it into a major regional actor. He also excelled in exploiting the Soviet-American rivalry and in presenting himself as the champion of “resistance” (muqawama) to both Israel and the West. Under the patina of a revolutionary Arab regime, Assad built a neo-patrimonial system, with his family and Alawite community as its core. The epitome of this neo-patrimonialism was the succession: When Assad died, his son Bashar succeeded him. Hafez al-Assad’s ability to control Syria for 30 years and his son’s ability to stay in power for 11 years, to date, derive also from the fact that their power did not rely exclusively on the Alawite minority. Hafez al-Assad built a patronage system, as well as bridges to the Sunni bourgeoisie, and also enjoyed the support of other minority groups, such as the Christians and the Druze.
Bashar maintained, with some slight modifications, the system his father built. He was unwilling, and in some cases unable, to introduce political and economic reforms. When the “Arab Spring” broke out in late 2010, toppled three dictatorial regimes and threatened others, Bashar al-Assad deluded himself into believing that his image as the symbol of “resistance” would enable him and his regime to survive the storm. He was wrong, and the Syrian rebellion broke out in March 2011 and became the dominant issue in Middle Eastern politics for the next seven years.
Ironically, the outbreak of the Syrian rebellion pushed Syria back into the situation it had faced between 1945 and 1958. The domestic conflict between regime and opposition was soon compounded by regional and international conflicts over Syria’s future.
In the region, the core of the conflict has been an Iranian-Saudi or Shiite-Sunni conflict, with Iran and its proxies (the Lebanese Hezbollah and other Shiite militias) protecting the regime and Saudi Arabia and other Gulf states supporting different opposition groups. Turkey has played its own important role: in hosting the headquarters of the opposition, allowing transit of foreign fighters into Syria, and occupying parts of northern Syria in order to check the Kurdish ambitions for autonomy and continuity. Israel, until recently, played a modest role in the Syrian crisis.
Internationally, Russia has played a crucial role by giving Assad diplomatic support and, as of 2015, via a military intervention, primarily through its air force. It was this Russian intervention that enabled the regime to recapture the city of Aleppo in December 2016 and to turn the tide of the domestic conflict. The United States under both Presidents Obama and Trump chose to play a more limited role by extending some support to opposition groups and by investing its most important efforts in fighting the Islamic State.
In March 2018, seven years after the outbreak of the Syrian rebellion, Assad is in control of at least half of Syria’s territory, and with Russian and Iranian support seeks to grind down the remaining opposition strongholds and to gradually extend his control over most, if not all, of Syria’s national territory. The jihadi opposition is still in control of the city and region of Idlib in northwestern Syria. The Kurds dominate some 15 to 20 percent of the country’s territory along the Turkish and Iraqi borders. The United States has supported the Kurds, maintaining at least 2,000 special forces in their territory; Turkey opposes them, occupying several areas along its border with Syria in order to deny the Kurds territorial continuity. In the southwestern part of the country, Iran is trying to install its own troops and bases, as well as Shiite militias, in order to extend the line of confrontation with Israel from the Mediterranean along the Lebanese-Israeli border into the Golan. Israel is determined to check this process and collided with both Iran and the regime’s forces in mid-February. Saudi Arabia and the other conservative Sunni states share Israel’s opposition to Iran’s presence and influence in Syria, and act to counter it primarily by continuing their support for Sunni Islamist groups. Meanwhile, the Islamic State has been militarily defeated in Syria, but not eradicated.
The struggle for Syria will continue. Russia will continue to support the regime and keep its military—primarily naval and aerial bases—in the country. Iran’s ambitions go further. In addition to military support and the importation of Shiite militias from Lebanon, Iraq, Pakistan and Afghanistan, the Iranians are seeking to expand their influence on Syrian society, economy, and politics. America’s European allies are committed, in principle, to a political and diplomatic solution to the Syrian crisis and to Assad’s eventual departure, but their influence is limited and they are likely to seek a role for European cooperation in the reconstruction of Syria. Financing this reconstruction could be provided by the Gulf Sunni states, but they are likely to use the resources only in the service of their political ends. Israel realizes that it is on a collision course with Iran and that its delicate coordination with Russia that has thus far prevented a Russian-Israeli collision could collapse at any time.
A key question concerns the Trump administration’s policy. The president’s tough anti-Iranian rhetoric has so far not translated into real anti-Iranian action in Syria. America’s limited military presence in northeastern Syria and its alliance with the Kurds gives it limited influence in the struggle over shaping Syria’s future. Secretary of State Tillerson, in a speech he delivered in mid-January, presented Washington’s strategy in Syria, but the goals he set for his country’s policies are not realistic. As the Syrian crisis enters its eighth year, its most horrific aspects—the mass killing, the destruction, and the waves of refugees—seem to be over. Now, the conflict focuses more and more on the country’s future as a pawn in the struggle between the principal regional and international actors. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 2 | https://adst.org/2013/09/the-more-things-change-a-look-back-at-syrias-hafez-al-assad/ | en | The More Things Change – A Look Back at Syria’s Hafez al | [
"https://adst.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/ADST_Text_logo.a.small_.jpg",
"http://adst.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/Assad-9190919-1-402-200x200.jpg",
"http://adst.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/muslim-brotherhood.jpg",
"http://adst.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/09/assad-Rifaathafezassad.jpg",
"http://adst.... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | en | https://adst.org/2013/09/the-more-things-change-a-look-back-at-syrias-hafez-al-assad/ | “You know I have my ups and downs, but I have a pact with God. The pact is that no matter what problems I have, wherever there is a challenge, I will have all my strength,” asserted a sickly Hafez al-Assad to George Shultz, who grimaced at the firmness of Assad’s grip. Despite Hafez al-Assad’s constant ailing health, the Syrian leader’s tenure in office spanned some 30 years. Political Officer Edward G. Abington, Ambassador David Ransom and wife, Deputy Chief of Mission, Marjorie Ransom, highlight Assad’s most criticized political power plays, Syria’s problems with Iraq and its reluctant reliance on the USSR, as well as provide insights about the man who reluctantly readied his son, Bashar al-Assad, to later assume power.
Charles Stuart Kennedy interviewed them in 1999 and 2000 respectively, during Assad’s final days as president of Syria.
Read about al-Assad’s brutal 1981 attack on the city of Hama. Go here to read about the rise of Hezbollah.
Striking Similarities
ABINGTON: In early 1981, there was serious concern that the Syrian government was about to invade Jordan. Assad was a very cautious person and knew that if he were to actually make a threatening move against Jordan it would inevitably lead to an Israeli military action. It was our assessment that Assad was not going to invade Jordan but was merely try to carry on a war of nerves and threaten the Jordanians. One of the options being looked at – and being recommended by ideologues… – was that the U.S. should carry out air strikes against Syria not only to protect Jordan but indirectly to send a message to the Soviets that the United States would not tolerate Soviet surrogates, which Syria was looked upon as, threatening America’s friends in the region.…
Assad was viewed as hostile to American interests. He certainly had no defenders in Washington at the time, still doesn’t. But this lack of understanding of what was really going on and the predilection to credit Israeli assessments much more than was warranted, that was 20 years ago and we still see it today.…
Problems with the Muslim Brotherhood and Iraq
You had an internal situation in Syria that was very complicated because the Muslim Brotherhood, a Sunni organization, was carrying out major attacks of terrorism and assassinations against the Alaoui [aka Alawite — a branch of Shia Islam which originated in Syria] Baathist regime of Syria. You had a break in relations between Syria and Iraq because of the rivalry between Hafez al-Assad and Saddam Hussein, two different factions of the Baath Party, each saying that they were the legitimate party, not recognizing the other. It was an incredibly complex mix of a lot of different issues and it was very difficult to figure out what was going on in Damascus because of the nature of this regime.
When I got to Damascus, there was the announcement that Syria and Iraq were going to unite. This had been spurred by the Egyptian-Israeli peace treaty. But within a matter of a couple of months, the whole process of discussing unification between Syria and Iraq broke down into tremendous acrimony which led eventually to a break in diplomatic relations between Syria and Iraq. It was during this period that the Muslim Brotherhood attacks against the Syrian regime started intensifying. There was intelligence and we knew that the Syrian government felt that the Muslim Brotherhood attacks were being assisted by the Iraqis in terms of providing explosives, arms, [and ] infiltrating people across the Iraqi-Syrian border. There also was some evidence that Muslim Brotherhood types in Saudi Arabia were sending money and providing guidance to people inside Syria.…
When I first got there in ’79 for the next year to year and a half there was a mounting internal crisis over this challenge to the Alaoui regime. This took the form of assassination of Alaoui political and military figures. The Muslim Brotherhood started assassinating Soviet military advisors and carrying out bombing attacks against Soviet military compounds and very brutal bombing attacks against Syrian government facilities as well.…They tried to cover up the attacks. It was very difficult to get accurate information about who had been killed and so forth.
It was during the spring or summer of 1981 that this section of Hamas, the old section of Hamas, the Muslim Brotherhood, really rose up against the government forces in the area. Hafez al-Assad, in consultation with the Alaoui military leaders…decided that they had had enough of this uprising, of these assassinations. One has to keep in mind that it was very much targeted against Alaouis. There were many Alaoui officials who were assassinated because they were Alaoui. There had been these brutal car bombings.
The government decided that it was going to crush the situation once and for all. Assad’s brother, Rifaat al-Assad, deployed the Defense Forces equipped with T-72 tanks to Hamas, closed off the area, went in and just leveled this area where the Muslim Brotherhood was holed up. It was a civilian area. Basically, they shelled it and then they brought in bulldozers and just bulldozed the whole thing. No one knows how many people were killed. I know that it has become the common wisdom that 10,000 were killed. In fact, I don’t think anyone really knows. But the Syrians sealed off the area. No one could get in or out for about a week until it was over.
That really broke the back of the Muslim Brotherhood. There were assassinations, a few bombings, after that. In fact, once when I was going from where the embassy was to a meeting …in an area west of Beirut, […] a bomb blew up about 50 yards from my car.…The Syrian security people immediately came out and started stopping cars. There was a car in front of me, a white Peugeot. There were three people in it. They panicked and they just were yelled at by the security people to stop. They kept going. This must have been 10-15 yards from me. The security people just opened up with AK-47s and killed all three people in the car. And they turned around and started pointing their guns at me. I was in a little Volkswagen Rabbit and stopped, held my hands in the air, and kept shouting in Arabic that I was a diplomat. They came over and looked at me and told me to get out of there. I haven’t been frightened that much. You could see how this terrorism really had the regime on edge. …
Syria’s Relations with the U.S.
The Assad regime was a very secretive regime. We opened the embassy in Damascus after the 1974 Israel-Syria disengagement agreement which had been brokered by Henry Kissinger. The Syrian regime was very heavily dependent upon the Soviet Union for economic assistance and especially for military assistance. The Soviets were the principal supplier of military equipment to the Syrians. There was a very large Soviet presence in Syria, Soviet military advisors there. The stated goal of President Assad was to achieve military parity with Israel. The relationship between Israel and Syria continued to be very tense. The Egyptian embassy was around the corner from the American embassy. Syria had broken relations with Egypt over the Camp David summit and the Egyptian-Israeli agreement. The Egyptian Embassy had been broken into by a Syrian mob.
Demonstrations like that in Syria only took place at the instigation of the Syrian government. The Egyptian Embassy was basically ransacked and was pretty much in ruin. That was a clear sign by President Assad that he disapproved of Sadat’s policies. There was a lot of tension between the United States and the Syrian government because the U.S. government was trying to promote the Egyptian-Israeli peace treaty. We had very little official access to Syrian officials and to the Baath Party.
They kept us at arm’s length and when we did have discussions with them they were fairly pro forma, a very heavy dose of Syrian propaganda. It was quite difficult to figure out what was going on in Syria [and] you had an incredibly unstable situation.…There was a lot of tension between the United States and Syria during this period.…We had relatively limited contacts with political figures in the regime. The ambassador would see Assad from time to time when there were visitors, the Secretary of State or congressional delegations. But in general, the American ambassador did not have access to President Assad for meetings or for appointments to discuss issues.
The American Dream
DAVID RANSOM: [T]he Syrians are perfectly capable of pursuing a dual process if it serves their purposes. In the case of the United States, we may have wanted, on one hand, to punish and on the other hand, to attract. They found it perfectly acceptable to excoriate us in political channels, but to encourage us in cultural and educational channels.
Our relationship was also complicated by the fact that the Soviet Union was a great friend of Syria, yet one would have been hard put to find Syrians who liked Soviets — whereas every Syrian family had immigrants to the United States who sent home letters, money, and accounts of life in America that made it natural and desirable for everyone to be a friend of American society. …Everybody wanted visas to America.
The stories about getting visas were legion. One of the funniest was that one day Hafez al-Assad was driving to his office and saw this big long line in front of the American embassy. He didn’t know what that was so he asked his driver. He stopped and got out and went up to the end of the line and said, “What are you here for?” They said, “Oh, Mr. President, we’re just here because we’re trying to get a temporary visa to the United States. Of course, we want to come back.” He kept asking people and he noticed the line was melting away. He got up to the head of the line rather quickly and asked the guard “Why did all these people leave?” He said, “Well, Sir, when they saw you were getting a visa, they decided to stay.”…
“Our difficulties with the Israelis were nothing compared to the Soviet problems with Syria”
Q: Did you feel that the Soviets were pulling any strings or were they just the deep pockets into which Syria would reach and take out what it needed?
The Soviets were seen by the government of Syria as the great strategic ally against both us and against Israel. But the two countries had many deep differences, particularly on debt issues. The Syrians had an insatiable appetite for Soviet military equipment even though they didn’t make very good use of it and they lost a lot of it. They blamed the equipment and the manufacturer rather than the way it was used. So, American equipment in the hands of Israel made us look very powerful and made the Soviets look bad.…
Our difficulties with the Israelis were nothing compared to the Soviet problems with Syria — a situation that I pointed out again and again to my Syrian friends and interlocutors. I pointed out that we got something from our relationship with Israel while Syria was getting less and less from their Soviet relationship.
Relations with Iran
The Syrians had a very bad relationship with Iraqis. The border was closed and there was nothing but enmity between the two leaders, Saddam Hussein and Hafez al-Assad. When the Iraqis went to war with Iran, the Syrians cut the pipeline of Iraqi oil coming across Syria, a blow that was very painfully to Iraq. They closed the border and refused supplies and support. The Iranians had agreed to supply Syria with free oil. So Syria had become a kind of Iranian surrogate against Iraq. That made for some very bitter relationships.…
The Syrian view of such activity inside their neighbors’ borders was that “We are weak, you are strong, and we will therefore do things that make your life miserable and eventually force you to come to us to ask for our help. Then we will extract our pound of flesh but not give you everything that you want in the way of expulsion, etc. of terrorist elements.”…The Syrian government got directly involved in terrorism while I was in Damascus. They were caught trying to blow up an El-Al airplane — a very clever plot that went awry. That led to a British decision to break relationships with Syria. While we did not break relationships, we withdrew the ambassador and cut the mission in one half as an indication of our displeasure.…
Assad’s Power Play
Assad really was Syria in terms of the way power was wielded in the country and how decisions were made, particularly on foreign policy. Assad at that time was embarked on a scheme that has now been reduced to ruin. He has had to abandon it. We told them at the time that this was going to happen, but he persisted in this grandiose notion of rejecting all effort at negotiation until a strategic balance with Israel had been created. That basically meant drawing the Soviet Union in to support Syria, building up Syrian military strength so that they would be able to meet and counter any Israeli military threat. Assad understood power very well. He didn’t pay much attention to economics and he didn’t seem to understand that his country was in the grips of a downward economic spiral where per capita income was decreasing every year while no new economic dynamics were being created.…He thought that socialism was bringing benefits to all the people and that nothing needed to be changed.
A Ruthless Man and His Sons
MARJORIE RANSOM: [Assad] was pretty tough. He was quite active in those days. Over the course of two years, we might have seen him slow down somewhat. But he was very much running things and certainly running peace negotiations. There was tremendous respect for Assad’s political acumen, but he was obstructionist to any attempt to make progress on the Arab-Israeli situation.
He would not hesitate to use radical groups based in Syria to support actions against Israel. Within the country he and his government were viewed as dictatorial, cruel, and tough. He was seen as a very tough-minded leader who would not hesitate to be ruthless in achieving his goals. The country was very hard up economically. People couldn’t get their basic foodstuffs. It was a very hard time for the citizenry. Socialism was failing. He was viewed as a very isolated person who relied on his close circle of advisors to tell him what was going on.
He was obviously a man who felt under threat. Whenever he moved anywhere in the city, there was extraordinary security. He traveled to the coast, to Latakia and to Cardaha, his birthplace, but to few other places even in Syria, let alone the rest of the world. He never went to Aleppo, the other big city in Syria. He had a public mystique, not as bad as Saddam Hussein’s, but he was a comparable figure.
People blamed him for their economic hardships, especially people who were not Alawite. Don’t forget that the Alawites were only 11-15% of the population. They, and perhaps some of the Christians and the Druze, supported the regime, but the Sunnis were and are roughly 70% of the population. His regime was one that was imposed on them. So, it was a tough dictatorship that advantaged Alawites and people from other minorities. He imposed such severe economic restrictions on the farms and the merchants that Syrians were never able to develop their country. What industry existed was government-run and highly inefficient, your classic example of a socialist-run public sector.
Q: What was the wisdom of the period on who was going to replace him?
At that time, it wasn’t clear. They were just starting to groom Bashar after Bassel died the year before I got there. They withdrew Bashar from England. He was studying to be an ophthalmologist. They brought him back and started grooming him in different jobs. It became apparent that they were testing him to prepare him for leadership. They were doing it in a rather gradual way. They thought they had a few years to do so.
Assad’s oldest son Bassel died in an automobile crash racing in his sports car to the airport. Not a very noble end. Nevertheless, he was elev ated to some sort of martyrdom after his death.…We watched in Syria the change in the pictures that would appear around town of Assad. There were many pictures of Bassel and then there was some gradual transition to a trilogy. You would have a picture of Assad, the dead son Bassel, and the upstart Bashar.
The word was that [Bashar] was a very nice guy and perhaps lacked the steel will, and so-called “killer eyes,” of his late brother, Bassel, and his younger brother Maher. He was considered smart, having been educated in England. He spoke English fluently, was quite Westernized, and expressed interest in opening up Syrian society to the outside world. He was instrumental in starting a computer society and tried before he became president to put Syria on the Internet, but the security services got in his way at that time. He was viewed as a very nice person, but people doubted his ability to lead Syria, considering the strength of the security services and the military. | |||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 32 | https://www.al-monitor.com/originals/2015/09/syria-sweida-protest-demonstration-druze-electricity.html | en | Protesters destroy Hafez al-Assad statue in Suwayda | [
"https://www.facebook.com/tr?id=966621336700630&ev=PageView&noscript=1",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/themes/custom/alm/logo.svg",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/themes/custom/alm/logo.svg",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/sites/default/files/styles/article_header/public/almpics/2015/09/statue1.png/statue1.png?h=f782... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Mustafa al-Haj"
] | 2015-09-10T08:30:42-04:00 | The residents of the Syrian city of Suwayda took to the street in peaceful demonstrations in early September to voice their opposition to the rampant corruption and bad living conditions in the city. | en | /themes/custom/alm/icons/globe.svg | Al-Monitor: Independent, trusted coverage of the Middle East | https://www.al-monitor.com/originals/2015/09/syria-sweida-protest-demonstration-druze-electricity.html | DAMASCUS, Syria — Suwayda, the relatively calm Syrian city with a majority of Druze residents located 100 kilometers (62 miles) south of Damascus, witnessed on Sept. 1 peaceful demonstrations that were the biggest of its kind since the outbreak of the Syrian revolution. Scores of protesters flocked to the governorate’s municipality building downtown, demanding the improvement of living conditions and the dismissal of the corrupt politicians and holding the latter accountable.
The sit-in came as a response to a campaign launched on Facebook — #Khanaqtouna (You Suffocated Us) — by a number of activists in the city. The page quickly garnered the attention and support of the city’s residents, who responded to the call and took to the street. Another protest took place on Sept. 3, where protesters raised their demands, calling for the ousting of the city's governor, Afef Naddaf. Protesters shouted slogans akin to the Arab Spring — “Down with the regime” — but were keen on keeping the march as peaceful as possible, so as to avoid any clashes with the security forces controlling the city, according to the campaign’s Facebook page. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 49 | https://www.nationalgeographic.com/history/article/syrian-doctor-saved-thousands-in-underground-hospital | en | This Syrian doctor saved thousands in an underground hospital | [
"https://i.natgeofe.com/n/e76f5368-6797-4794-b7f6-8d757c79ea5c/ng-logo-2fl.png?w=109&h=32",
"https://i.natgeofe.com/n/dcb4143b-2789-4698-9119-76cf4529cb07/01-doctor-amani-ballour.jpg",
"https://i.natgeofe.com/n/28776324-f038-4ac3-b9fb-f3ae868f1df4/04-doctor-amani-ballour.jpg",
"https://i.natgeofe.com/n/5fd559... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Rania Abouzeid"
] | 2019-11-22T17:35:00+00:00 | During Syria’s deadly civil war, Amani Ballour treated victims of airstrikes and chemical attacks—memories that still haunt her today. | en | History | https://www.nationalgeographic.com/history/article/syrian-doctor-saved-thousands-in-underground-hospital | The crack of thunder; a plane streaming overhead; a knock on the door. Amani Ballour is afraid of loud noises. The sounds remind her of the fighter jets and ferocious shelling that forced her to reluctantly flee her native Syria in 2018.
The 32-year-old pediatrician does not find relief in the quiet of her sparsely furnished two-room apartment in Gaziantep, Turkey. In the stillness, she remembers the young patients she calls “my children,” those who survived and the many more who didn’t.
For two years, from 2016 to 2018, Ballour ran an underground field hospital known as the Cave in her hometown of Eastern Ghouta, near the Syrian capital Damascus. There, she witnessed war crimes including the use of chemical weapons and chlorine bombs, and airstrikes on hospitals, attacks that targeted a place of refuge and those already wounded.
As the administrator of the Cave, Ballour was responsible for a staff of some 100 people in a town besieged by troops loyal to Syrian President Bashar al-Assad. For years, essential items such as food and medical supplies were restricted or forbidden from entering the rebel town of Eastern Ghouta, part of Assad’s “starve or submit” stranglehold, forcing Ballour and others to smuggle goods in.
Assad’s warplanes and, beginning in September 2015, Russia’s fighter jets drove the hospital deeper underground into a maze of tunnels and bunkers.
Ballour’s journey is featured in National Geographic's documentary, The Cave. Nominated in the 92nd Academy Awards' Documentary Feature category, The Cave was directed by Feras Fayyad and produced by Kirstine Barfod and Sigrid Dyekjær. In 2018, Fayyad was nominated for an academy award for Last Men in Aleppo. The Cave tells the harrowing story of Ballour’s struggle to provide healing and comfort in the midst of war in a subterranean hospital. (Find it in select theaters near you.)
The youngest daughter in a family of three girls and two boys, Ballour says that from childhood she aspired “to do something different” rather than become a homemaker like her older sisters, who married in their teens and early 20s. Her heart set on mechanical engineering, she enrolled in Damascus University. But the pressure of societal gossip, and her father’s opposition to her plans, prompted her to switch to medicine, a discipline she says was considered “a more appropriate career for a woman, but as a pediatrician or a gynecologist.”
Ballour chose healing children and ignored the many naysayers who mockingly told her that “‘once you get married, hang your degree in the kitchen.’ I heard this phrase so many times.”
In 2011, when the wave of peaceful Arab protests reached Syria, Ballour was a fifth-year medical student, a year away from graduating. The protests quickly engulfed Eastern Ghouta. Ballour marched in a demonstration but didn’t tell her family, certain that her parents “would have been a million percent against it [because] they were very afraid something would happen to me.” At another protest, she captured brief snippets of video but was too scared to disseminate them. “I was terrified of being detained,” she says. Still, the experience was exhilarating. It felt “like I was breathing freedom, it was incredible. It was so empowering simply to say ‘no’ to what was happening in this country that had been ruled for decades by one regime.”
By that time, the Assads—Bashar and, before him, his father Hafez—had ruled Syria with an iron fist for more than four decades. Ballour remembers how as a child she knew that “it was forbidden to speak of certain things, to mention the name of the president, Hafez al-Assad, in any way except to praise him [because] the walls had ears.” She’d heard only whispers of the 1982 Hama massacre, when Hafez al-Assad’s forces killed thousands of people, insurgents and civilians, in a short-lived Islamist insurrection. “My parents didn't tell us about the Hama massacre, and they should have,” she says.
When Bashar al-Assad succeeded his father in 2000, Ballour wondered why Syrians couldn’t elect a leader with a different surname. “When I asked about it I was told to be quiet, that somebody might hear us,” she says. “It was very frightening.”
As the Syrian state violently cracked down on the protest movement, beating demonstrators with whip-like rods and firing tear gas and live bullets into crowds, Ballour was drawn into the worsening situation, but not as a protester. In the early years of the Syrian revolution, security forces routinely hunted wounded protesters in hospitals. Those seeking medical treatment risked being detained—disappearing into the regime’s network of dungeons—or worse, killed on the spot. Secretive field clinics quietly sprung up in homes and mosques and other places.
Ballour remembers being summoned from home by neighbors to treat her first patient, who was wounded in a protest. It was in late 2012 and she had just graduated. “He was a child who was shot in the head. What could I do for him? He was dead,” she says. “He was about eleven years old.”
Her first job, as a volunteer without pay, was treating the wounded in a field hospital set up in a partially constructed building that the regime had slated to become a hospital. She was one of two full-time physicians working there. The other was the clinic’s founder, Salim Namour. A general surgeon 26 years Ballour’s senior, Namour remembers meeting the young woman soon after she graduated. “She introduced herself and offered to help,” Namour recalls. “Many experienced doctors were fleeing to safety but here was this young graduate who stayed to help.”
At the time, the facility consisted of an operating room and an emergency room in the basement. It would soon expand into a web of underground shelters and become known to locals as the Cave. Wards including pediatrics and internal medicine were added. More doctors, nurses, and volunteers joined the effort. The hospital relied on machinery and equipment taken from damaged hospitals near the frontlines, and smuggled medical supplies paid for by international and Syrian NGOs in the diaspora.
Ballour was not a trauma surgeon, but when the casualties came in, even veterinarians and optometrists treated the wounded. She had to learn quickly, not just emergency medicine, but dealing with the horrors of a savage war. The first mass casualties she saw were charred bodies. Even years later, she can vividly recall “the smell of people burnt beyond recognition and some of them were still alive. It was the most shocking thing I’d seen at the time, I still didn’t have experience, I was a new graduate. I was so shocked I couldn’t do my job. But then I saw many massacres, so many casualties, and I got to work.”
On August 21, 2013, Ballour and her dedicated colleagues faced a new horror: chemical weapons. The Sarin attack on Eastern Ghouta killed hundreds. Ballour recalls rushing to the hospital in the dead of night, picking her way past people, dead and alive, sprawled on the floor to reach the supply room to begin treating patients. “We didn’t know exactly what it was, just that people were suffocating. Everybody was an emergency case. A patient who is suffocating cannot wait, and they were all suffocating. We saved who we saved and the ones we didn’t get to in time died. We couldn’t manage.”
The following year, Namour formed a local medical council from the 12 remaining physicians serving a population of some 400,000 people trapped in Eastern Ghouta. The council included two dentists and an optometrist. Not all of those on the council worked in the Cave but together they decided to elect an administrator of the Cave to a six-month term, later expanded to a year. Toward the end of 2015, Ballour decided to stand for the position. “I didn’t see why I couldn’t be an administrator especially if it was just because of my gender. I am a doctor and they (the two previous male administrators) are doctors. I was in the hospital from the first day, I knew what it needed, I had ideas to expand it, I had a plan.”
Her father and brother advised against it, given that Ballour was already spending all of her days and many nights in the Cave. “My father feared for me but I couldn’t come home,” Ballour says. “There weren’t enough doctors. He told me that people wouldn’t accept me, that I’d face a lot of problems. The next day I nominated myself and was elected hospital administrator.”
Ballour assumed her position in early 2016, a few months after the airstrikes ratcheted up with the arrival of the Russian Air Force in the skies above Eastern Ghouta. The backlash from some patients and their relatives was swift and predictable. “What I heard from a lot of the men was, ‘What? Have we run out of men in the country to appoint a woman?’ A woman. They wouldn’t say a female doctor, but a woman.”
She was fully supported in her efforts by the hospital staff, including Namour. “I couldn’t accept this [patriarchal] talk,” he says. “I’d tell the men: She’s here with us, working day and night whenever we need her while some of the male doctors we all know fled to regime-controlled areas to work in safety. Which do you prefer? It’s not about gender, it’s about actions and ability, and Dr. Amani made many positive changes to the hospital.”
Ballour expanded the Cave, deepening its bunkers and digging tunnels to two small medical clinics in town—and to the cemetery. “We needed to bury the dead but it was too dangerous to be above ground,” she says. “We couldn’t move above ground.”
As the siege tightened and warplanes screamed overhead, there were opportunities to leave through the tunnels, but Ballour didn’t take them. “How could I leave?” she says. “Why did I study medicine and focus on children if not to help people? To be there when they needed me, not to leave when I wanted to.”
The daily casualty toll climbed into the triple digits. The hospital was repeatedly targeted in air strikes that penetrated deep into the Cave, destroying a ward, killing three personnel and wounding others. On one occasion, Ballour had just stepped out of a ward into the corridor when the rockets crashed behind her. “I couldn't hear anything or see anything. The corridor was full of thick dust that was suspended in the air.” When it cleared, she found her dead colleagues: “Their bodies were in pieces.”
Ambulances were struck and rescuers killed as they retrieved the wounded. Assad’s final push into Eastern Ghouta in February 2018 included a chlorine attack. “The smell of chlorine was overwhelming,” Ballour remembers. “I don't have the words to describe what it was like, what we lived, but I want to so that people understand why we left. People were tired and hungry. Many surrendered, including fighters who'd drop their weapons and go toward the regime soldiers. … The army was closing in on us. They weren’t far, we had to flee. We feared they'd kill us if they reached us.”
A UN Commission of Inquiry on Syria would later report that Syrian and allied forces committed war crimes and crimes against humanity during the siege and recapture of Eastern Ghouta. Assad’s methods of warfare in Ghouta were “barbaric and medieval,” the UN report said, including “the longest-running siege in modern history, lasting more than five years.”
On March 18, 2018, Amani Ballour and her team evacuated the wounded and abandoned the Cave, but not before the doctor walked through every room and bade it farewell. “I thought about all the people who had passed through this hospital. I was a child when the building that would become the hospital was built, and I later worked in it for six years. We were besieged there, attacked there, we saved and lost lives there. I had so many memories in that place, most of them painful but we had good times too. It was very, very painful for me to leave the hospital.”
She walked away with nothing but the clothes on her back, leaving behind the cherished white coat that she’d worn since she was a medical student. “It was so bloody that I couldn't take it with me,” she says. “It was very special to me.”
Ballour and several of her family members and colleagues including Namour initially fled to nearby Zamalka, a suburb of Damascus, but there was shelling there too. Ten days later, Ballour was again on the move, this time to Idlib province in northwestern Syria bordering Turkey, the last rebel stronghold in the country. She’d never been to Idlib before. She moved from town to town in the province, but there was no escaping the warplanes.
She volunteered to help a pediatrician in a village field hospital but couldn’t stay more than a few hours in the facility. “When I looked at the children in Idlib I remembered my children and what happened to them. I couldn't see that again. I was very psychologically drained and tired.”
She was also tired of hearing some in Idlib, mainly Islamist fighters, blame her and others in Eastern Ghouta for what they termed “surrendering” to the regime. After three months in Idlib she fled to Gaziantep, Turkey in June 2018. She married an activist from Daraa whom she’d communicated with while she was in Ghouta but never previously met.
Now, she is safe, but she is not happy. The winter sun streams through her apartment windows. She is no longer underground, but she lives with the bitterness of being a refugee in a foreign land, struggling with the burden of what she survived, and the memories of those who didn’t, especially the children.
“They are in front of my eyes,” she says. “There are children I cannot forget, it’s impossible to forget them. There were children I’d treat in the pediatric ward (for asthma and other ailments) and then I’d see them when they’d been wounded. It was like working on family. I couldn’t look into their eyes when I worked on them. Sometimes I’d crash, I’d break down.”
She still has nightmares and every loud sound reminds her of a warplane. During thunderstorms, she says, if her husband isn’t home he calls her to reassure her that the noise isn’t an airstrike. She replays conversations with some of her young patients, like five-year-old Mahmoud who lost a hand to shrapnel, and through tears asked Ballour why she’d cut it off. “What could I tell him when he asked me that? I cried a lot that day.” And then there was the young boy who lost his arm at the shoulder. “I can still hear him crying out to me, asking me to help him.”
In Syria, Ballour says, she felt useful, like she was making a difference. “Here, I sometimes I feel like I am nothing.” She spends her days volunteering with a Syrian women’s group and studying English in the hopes of immigrating to Canada, but several applications have been rejected.
“Honestly, the word refugee is a difficult label to wear. I love my country, my home, my life in Syria, my memories of it, but why did we become refugees? People should ask what is behind that word 'refugee' and why we escaped. I’m a refugee because I fled oppression and danger. I didn't want to leave. I would have preferred to stay in Ghouta, despite everything. We were besieged and bombarded and we persisted for six years, we didn't want to leave. It was a very, very difficult moment. … I wish that people who just look at us as refugees ask what we escaped from and why we left. It's a painful word but I didn't have a choice. I don't believe I had a choice.”
Ballour intends to continue practicing medicine, but not as a pediatrician. Instead, she plans to shift to radiology, because she says, “I can't psychologically see patients any more, especially children.” It’s a sentiment that Namour understands. “I’m a surgeon who has spent his life in operating theaters, but after the bitter experience that we survived, after the inhumanity and suffering that we saw in Ghouta, I can’t stand the sight of blood or being in an operating theater,” he says, “Even though to me surgery is a technique, like a painter working on a portrait. We survived very difficult days.”
Ballour is finding other ways to help her people. She is involved in a fund, named Al Amal (Hope), to support female leaders and medical workers in conflict zones. She is a strong advocate for helping the millions of displaced Syrians living in tent cities within Syria and the millions more who have become refugees beyond its borders.
The Syrian war has slipped from the news pages but Ballour is determined to inform people about the atrocities she witnessed in a nearly nine-year-long war that is nowhere near over. “I don't want to tell stories to make people cry and get upset, I want them to help,” she says. “There are still so many people who need help.”
And then, there is the issue of justice. The child whose parents were too afraid to tell her about the Hama massacre is now a female doctor determined to widely disseminate her testimony of the chemical attacks on Eastern Ghouta. “I must get this testimony to organizations that can one day hopefully hold the regime to account for this crime,” she says. “I saw it. It happened.” | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 50 | https://www.hrw.org/news/2019/01/30/nujeen-mustafa-syria | en | Nujeen Mustafa, Syria | [
"https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/styles/480w/public/multimedia_images_2019/201901defender_nujeen_mustafa_0.png?itok=t6_hmple 480w, /sites/default/files/styles/embed_xxl/public/multimedia_images_2019/201901defender_nujeen_mustafa_0.png?itok=8bQvxzf- 946w",
"https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/styles/sq... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2019-01-30T00:00:00 | Nujeen Mustafa’s grueling 16-month journey from Syria to Germany—in a wheelchair at age 16—propelled her to become a powerful advocate for the rights of refugees and for people with disabilities. | en | /sites/default/files/favicon.ico | Human Rights Watch | https://www.hrw.org/news/2019/01/30/nujeen-mustafa-syria | The Human Rights Watch Alison Des Forges Award celebrates the valor of people who put their lives on the line to protect the dignity and rights of others. Human Rights Watch collaborates with these courageous activists to create a world in which people live free of violence, discrimination, and oppression.
In January 2014, when Nujeen Mustafa was 16, she began a 5,600-kilometer journey from Syria to Germany in a steel wheelchair. She has since become a powerful advocate for the rights of refugees and for people with disabilities, sharing the harrowing story of her journey to move hearts and change policies.
Mustafa was born with cerebral palsy, unable to walk without assistance. In her home city of Aleppo, Syria, she never attended school. She taught herself English by watching American soap operas.
As the forces of the Islamic State (known as ISIS) and Syrian President Bashar al-Assad escalated their attacks on civilians, Mustafa and her family fled to Turkey. Together with her sister, Mustafa soon embarked on a grueling 16-month journey by foot, boat and bus. They crossed the Mediterranean Sea to Greece and struggled northward through Macedonia, Serbia, and Hungary, finally arriving in Germany.
Throughout the ordeal, Mustafa refused to give in to despair or see herself as a passive victim. As she told a BBC reporter in a now-viral video: “You should fight to get what you want in this world.”
Mustafa’s account was chronicled in a book co-authored by a British journalist and author, Christina Lamb—The Girl from Aleppo: Nujeen’s Escape from War to Freedom. Her persuasive speaking has also encouraged international disability reform efforts.
In a unique partnership with Human Rights Watch, the European Disability Forum and the Norwegian Refugee Council, Mustafa urged senior policymakers in the European Union to re-evaluate their policies regarding people with disabilities in humanitarian crises. The EU commissioner for humanitarian assistance has announced new measures to ensure that the delivery of humanitarian aid meets the needs of people with disabilities.
Human Rights Watch honors Nujeen Mustafa for her tireless advocacy promoting the rights of refugees and people with disabilities. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 52 | https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2019/06/timeline-syria-conflict-civil-war/ | en | A Timeline of the Syria Conflict – Mother Jones | [
"https://www.motherjones.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/07/FurneauxRosa.jpg?w=60&h=60&crop=1",
"https://www.motherjones.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/20190603_syria-timeline_2000.jpg?w=990",
"https://www.motherjones.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/RTR8TOK.jpg",
"https://www.motherjones.com/wp-content/uploads/201... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Rosa Furneaux",
"Inae Oh",
"Dan Friedman",
"Sophie Hurwitz",
"Kiera Butler",
"Julia Métraux",
"Jackie Flynn Mogensen",
"Isabela Dias",
"Abby Vesoulis",
"Arianna Coghill"
] | 2019-06-12T06:00:16 | How the civil war unfolded, from Damascus to Washington, DC. | en | Mother Jones | https://www.motherjones.com/politics/2019/06/timeline-syria-conflict-civil-war/ | 1970
Hafez al-Assad seizes power in a coup within the Baath Party. He becomes president of Syria the following year.
1980
Syria and the Soviet Union sign a treaty of friendship and cooperation.
1982
In response to a Sunni rebellion in Hama, Assad’s military destroys the city and kills at least 20,000 people.
2000
Assad dies. He is succeeded by his son Bashar, who many Syrians hope will be a reformer.
2002
Undersecretary of State John Bolton includes Syria in a list of countries “beyond the axis of evil” that are seeking weapons of mass destruction.
2004
President George W. Bush imposes sanctions on Syria, asserting that it has ties to terrorism.
2005
Tensions between the United States and Syria escalate after former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri is assassinated by a truck bomb, allegedly with help from Assad’s regime.
2010
The United States renews sanctions against Syria, saying that it seeks weapons of mass destruction.
March 2011
Protests begin in Daraa after police torture teenagers who had painted anti-regime graffiti. As mass demonstrations spread, the Assad regime cracks down violently.
July 2011
Military defectors create the Free Syrian Army, Syria’s first armed opposition group.
July 2011
Assad sends troops into Hama and Deir Ezzor, killing hundreds of civilians.
August 2011
President Barack Obama calls for Assad to step down.
December 2011
Al Qaeda’s new Syrian affiliate, the Nusra Front, stages a suicide bombing in Damascus.
May 2012
The United States begins sending “nonlethal” aid to Syrian rebels.
June 2012
The United States, Russia, Turkey, Iraq, and other countries meet in Geneva to discuss a transition to a “democratic and pluralistic” Syria.
August 2012
Obama warns Assad that using chemical weapons would cross a “red line,” triggering US military intervention.
April 2013
The Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) forms.
May 2013
Hezbollah forces launch an offensive “to aid the Assad regime.”
July 2013
Congressional intelligence committees approve CIA arms shipments to the Syrian opposition.
August 2013
The Syrian government uses sarin in an attack on Ghouta, killing more than 1,400 people. The following month, Congress rejects Obama’s request to approve a military response.
September 2013
The Syrian government agrees to hand over its chemical weapons stocks for destruction.
November 2013
Kurdish parties establish the autonomous region of Rojava in northern Syria.
June 2014
ISIS declares the creation of a caliphate across its territory in Syria and Iraq.
September 2014
Congress authorizes the Pentagon to train and arm Syrian rebels. In what will become known as Operation Inherent Resolve, the United States and its coalition partners begin airstrikes against ISIS.
September 2015
As the number of refugees tops 4 million, a photograph of a drowned Syrian toddler provokes international concern over the humanitarian crisis. After reaffirming its treaty with Syria, Russia officially joins the war, carrying out airstrikes and providing military aid to Assad.
December 2015
As the Obama administration’s focus in Syria shifts toward ISIS, the Pentagon says special operations troops will be deployed “to fight in Syria and Iraq.”
December 2016
Supported by Russian planes, the Syrian government retakes Aleppo, a major rebel stronghold.
January 2017
President Donald Trump blocks Syrian refugees from entering the United States. (Fewer than 3,100 have been admitted since he took office.)
March 2017
UN Ambassador Nikki Haley says the Trump administration’s “priority is no longer to sit there and focus on getting Assad out.”
April 2017
Following another chemical attack by the Syrian government, Trump announces a missile strike.
May 2017
Over Turkey’s objections, Trump approves a plan to arm Kurdish forces in Syria.
July 2017
Trump ends the CIA program to support anti-Assad rebels.
October 2017
After months of heavy coalition bombing and ground assaults by the US-backed Syrian Democratic Forces, ISIS is driven out of Raqqa, losing its self-proclaimed capital.
February 2018
Pro-Syrian government forces, including Russian mercenaries, attack the US-held Conoco gas plant outside Deir Ezzor city. The Geneva peace process that opened in 2012 ends.
March 2018
Turkey and the FSA seize Afrin, a Kurdish region in northwest Syria.
April 2018
After a chemical attack in Douma, the United States, Britain, and France launch airstrikes against Syrian government targets.
July 2018
Assad’s army recaptures part of southern Syria from rebel forces.
October 2018
US military officials report that an SDF offensive has isolated the “last pocket of ISIS resistance” in eastern Syria.
December 2018
Trump announces the withdrawal of all US troops from Syria. Defense Secretary James Mattis resigns in protest.
February 2019
ISIS’s remaining fighters are trapped in shrinking enclaves. Trump says he should receive a Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts in Syria. “I stopped the slaughter of perhaps 3 million people,” he says. When members of Congress request that some troops stay in Syria, Trump writes back, “I agree 100%.”
October 2019
The White House says it will allow Turkish forces to invade northern Syria. Facing criticism for this unexpected move, Trump tweets “if Turkey does anything that I, in my great and unmatched wisdom, consider to be off limits, I will totally destroy and obliterate the Economy of Turkey.”
Listen to “Behind the Lines,” a Mother Jones Podcast series. Shane Bauer reports from Syria on America’s role in one of the 21st century’s bloodiest conflicts. Episode One takes you to the former ISIS stronghold of Raqqa, where forensic teams conduct the harrowing work of uncovering thousands of bodies from the rubble. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 44 | https://www.al-monitor.com/originals/2024/03/syrian-presidents-uncle-face-swiss-trial-war-crimes | en | Syrian president's uncle to face Swiss trial for war crimes | [
"https://www.facebook.com/tr?id=966621336700630&ev=PageView&noscript=1",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/themes/custom/alm/logo.svg",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/themes/custom/alm/logo.svg",
"https://www.al-monitor.com/sites/default/files/styles/article_header/public/2024-03/ecc4cf42ab16d328fcd655ef5fff58411058c9... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Nina LARSON"
] | 2024-03-12T05:08:03-04:00 | Rifaat al-Assad, an uncle of the Syrian president, will stand trial in Switzerland for alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity that decades ago earned him the nickname "The Butcher of Hama".The office of Switzerland's Attorney General (OAG) said it was charging the former Syrian vice president and former Syrian army officer with a long list of crimes committed in February 1982, during a notorious clash between the Syrian military and Islamist opposition in the town of Hama in western Syria. | en | /themes/custom/alm/icons/globe.svg | Al-Monitor: Independent, trusted coverage of the Middle East | https://www.al-monitor.com/originals/2024/03/syrian-presidents-uncle-face-swiss-trial-war-crimes | Rifaat al-Assad, an uncle of the Syrian president, will stand trial in Switzerland for alleged war crimes and crimes against humanity that decades ago earned him the nickname "The Butcher of Hama".
The office of Switzerland's Attorney General (OAG) said it was charging the former Syrian vice president and former Syrian army officer with a long list of crimes committed in February 1982, during a notorious clash between the Syrian military and Islamist opposition in the town of Hama in western Syria.
There was no immediate official reaction from Syria nor from Rifaat al-Assad, who is believed to be in Syria.
The uncle of Syria's current president Bashar al-Assad was being "charged with ordering homicides, acts of torture, cruel treatments and illegal detentions", the OAG said in a statement.
His alleged "war crimes and crimes against humanity", it said, were committed "in his capacity as commander of the defence brigades ... and commander of operations in Hama", in central Syria.
They took place "within the context of the armed conflict and the widespread and systematic attack launched against the population of the city of Hama", it said.
- Executions, torture -
Syrian security forces deployed to Hama in early February 1982 to suppress an insurrection by the Islamist opposition, and the operation allegedly ended at the end of the same month.
The OAG highlighted that the defence brigades "were purportedly the main forces in charge of the suppression".
"In this context, several thousands of civilians were allegedly victims of different abuses, ranging from immediate execution to detention and torture in specifically-created centres," it said.
According to the indictment, the armed conflict in question is estimated to have caused between 3,000 and 60,000 deaths in Hama, most of them civilians.
The criminal proceedings in Switzerland were initiated under so-called international jurisdiction, which allows countries to prosecute alleged crimes against humanity, war crimes and genocide regardless of where they were committed.
The initial Swiss complaint against Rifaat al-Assad was filed in 2013 by TRIAL International, a rights group that works with victims and pushes Switzerland to prosecute alleged international criminals.
"It's another step for justice for the Syrian people!" TRIAL chief Philip Grant said in a statement celebrating the indictment.
Along with several other past and ongoing proceedings in France and Germany, the new trial, he said, would help examine "the responsibility of the highest Syrian officials" and shed "light on the crimes committed by the al-Assad's clan against its own people during the past decades".
The organisation also quoted one of three victims who will serve as civil plaintiffs in the case hailing the proof "that such powerful persons can be brought to justice".
- Exile -
The attorney-general's office had already in 2021 requested permission to issue an international arrest warrant for the now 86-year-old, but the justice ministry initially balked, arguing Switzerland did not have jurisdiction to pursue him.
But a year later, a Swiss court overruled the justice ministry position, highlighting that Rifaat al-Assad had been staying at a Geneva hotel when Swiss prosecutors first launched their investigation in 2013.
This provided a path to pursuing him over alleged war crimes, it said, allowing the OAG to issue an international arrest warrant in 2022.
It remains unlikely that the defendant, who recently returned to Syria after 37 years in exile, will show up in person for the trial, for which a date has yet to be set.
But his presence may not be necessary: Swiss law allows for trials in absentia under certain conditions.
Rifaat al-Assad, long a pillar of the regime in Damascus, was forced into exile in 1984 after a failed attempt to overthrow his brother, late president Hafez al-Assad.
He travelled to Switzerland and later France, working in opposition to the Syrian regime, before finally returning home in 2021.
He has made no public appearance since then, but last April, he appeared in a picture alongside the current president and the first lady, along with other family members. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 11 | https://www.tasnimnews.com/en/news/2020/01/13/2181177/syria-awards-top-medal-of-honor-to-martyr-soleimani | en | Syria Awards Top Medal of Honor to Martyr Soleimani | [
"https://www.tasnimnews.com/Static/img/print-icon.jpg",
"https://newsmedia.tasnimnews.com/Tasnim/Uploaded/Image/1398/10/23/1398102315454764519399014.jpg",
"https://newsmedia.tasnimnews.com/Tasnim/Uploaded/Image/1398/10/20/1398102011222283319377142.jpg",
"https://newsmedia.tasnimnews.com/Tasnim/Uploaded/Image/... | [] | [] | [
"Keyword_popular"
] | null | [
"Tasnim News Agency"
] | 2020-01-13T00:00:00 | TEHRAN (Tasnim) – Senior Iranian commander Lt. General Qassem Soleimani, who was recently assassinated in a US strike, was posthumously awarded Syria’s top medal of honor by the Arab country’s President Bashar al-Assad. | en | /static/img/icons/favicon.ico | Tasnim News Agency | //www.tasnimnews.com/en/news/2020/01/13/2181177/syria-awards-top-medal-of-honor-to-martyr-soleimani | Assad has awarded the country’s top medal of honor to Lt. General Soleimani, Syrian Prime Minister Imad Khamis announced on Monday.
The Syrian premier unveiled the awarding of the medal at a meeting with Iranian First Vice-President Eshaq Jahangiri in Tehran.
“Awarding this medal reveals the Syrian president’s deep affection for General Soleimani and for his brothers in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” Khamis said.
Lt. General Soleimani, the deputy head of Iraq’s Hashd al-Sha’abi (PMU), and a number of their entourage were killed in a strike by American drones near Baghdad International Airport in the early hours of January 3.
The popular Iranian commander played a prominent role in the fight against Daesh (ISIS) terrorist group in Syria and Iraq.
Following the assassination, people of Syria took to the streets to condemn the terrorist attack on the Iranian commander and praise his efforts in the war on Daesh.
On January 7, a huge crowd of Syrian people gathered in the main square of Aleppo, Sa’adallah Al-Jabri Square, to denounce the US move.
"The martyr (Soleimani) had a role in liberating most of the Syrian territories. He was wherever he needed to be. The free and resistant world has lost one of its men today," a resident of Aleppo said in a mourning service in Aleppo’s Rashid Mosque.
In a similar mourning ceremony in Syria’s Lattakia on January 10, Chairman of Lattakia’s Islamic Endowments Department Sheikh Mohammad Alio said the gathering was a token of loyalty to the martyrs whose sacrifices have significantly contributed to defeating the Zionist-US project in the region and to eliminating terrorist organizations in Syria and Iraq.
In separate comments, Father George Hosh, a senior Christian priest in the Greek Orthodox Diocese of Lattakia, paid tribute to Lt. General Soleimani, stressing that the resistance work has no geographical boundaries and that the blood of the martyrs sprouted many of the resistance fighters who will complete the path until achieving complete victory. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 0 | https://www.britannica.com/biography/Hafiz-al-Assad | en | Hafez al-Assad | Biography, Facts, Religion, & Son | [
"https://cdn.britannica.com/mendel/eb-logo/MendelNewThistleLogo.png",
"https://cdn.britannica.com/mendel/eb-logo/MendelNewThistleLogo.png",
"https://cdn.britannica.com/51/219151-004-45B59942/President-of-Syria-Hafiz-al-Assad-1980.jpg",
"https://cdn.britannica.com/51/219151-050-0D583CF7/President-of-Syria-Hafi... | [] | [] | [
"Hafez al-Assad",
"encyclopedia",
"encyclopeadia",
"britannica",
"article"
] | null | [
"The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica"
] | 1998-07-20T00:00:00+00:00 | Hafez al-Assad, president of Syria (1971–2000) who brought stability to the country and established it as a powerful presence in the Middle East. After his death in 2000, Assad was succeeded by his son Bashar. Learn more about Hafez al-Assad’s life and career. | en | /favicon.png | Encyclopedia Britannica | https://www.britannica.com/biography/Hafiz-al-Assad | Hafez al-Assad (born October 6, 1930, Qardāḥa, Syria—died June 10, 2000, Damascus) was the president of Syria (1971–2000) who brought stability to the country and established it as a powerful presence in the Middle East.
Born into a poor family of ʿAlawites, a minority Islamic sect, Assad joined the Syrian wing of the Baʿath Party in 1946 as a student activist. In 1952 he entered the Homs Military Academy, graduating three years later as an air force pilot. While exiled to Egypt (1959–61) during Syria’s short-lived union with Egypt in the United Arab Republic, Assad and other military officers formed a committee to resurrect the fortunes of the Syrian Baʿath Party. After the Baʿathists took power in 1963, Assad became commander of the air force. In 1966, after taking part in a coup that overthrew the civilian leadership of the party and sent its founders into exile, he became minister of defense. During Assad’s ministry Syria lost the Golan Heights to Israel in the Six-Day War (June 1967), dealing Assad a blow that shaped much of his future political career. Assad then engaged in a protracted power struggle with Salah al-Jadid—chief of staff of the armed forces, Assad’s political mentor, and effective leader of Syria—until finally in November 1970 Assad seized control, arresting Jadid and other members of the government. He became prime minister and in 1971 was elected president.
Assad set about building up the Syrian military with Soviet aid and gaining the loyalty of the Syrian populace with public works funded by Arab donors and international lending institutions. Political dissenters were eliminated by arrest, torture, and execution, and when the Muslim Brotherhood mounted a rebellion in Hama in 1982, Assad ruthlessly suppressed it at a cost of some 20,000 lives and the near destruction of the city. In foreign affairs Assad tried to establish Syria as a leader of the Arab world. A new alliance with Egypt culminated in a surprise attack on Israel in October 1973 (see October War), but Egypt’s unexpected cessation of hostilities exposed Syria to military defeat and earned Egypt’s president, Anwar Sadat, Assad’s enduring resentment. In 1976, with Lebanon racked by a bloody civil war, Assad dispatched several divisions to that country and secured their permanent presence there as part of a peacekeeping force sponsored by the Arab League. After Israel’s invasion and occupation of southern Lebanon in 1982–85, Assad was able to reassert control of the country, eventually compelling Lebanese Christians to accept constitutional changes increasing the representation of Muslims in the government. Assad also aided several militant groups that had been involved in the conflict. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 28 | https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-12890797 | en | Syria protests: The forgotten decades of dissent | [
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/304/mcs/media/images/51884000/jpg/_51884880_protest.jpg",
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/news/304/mcs/media/images/51884000/jpg/_51884879_hafez.jpg",
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/ace/standard/385/cpsprodpb/e71e/live/3b2d8f10-4a08-11ef-8f0f-0577398c3339.jpg",
"https://ichef.bbci.co.uk/ac... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Anne Alexander",
"www.facebook.com"
] | 2011-03-29T09:37:55+00:00 | It has been decades since mass demonstrations have been seen in Syria, but the country has a rich history of revolt - and repression - writes Anne Alexander. | en | BBC News | https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-12890797 | It has been decades since mass demonstrations have been seen in Syria, but the country has a rich history of revolt - and of repression.
It is 41 years since the Corrective Revolution put Hafez al-Assad - father of current President Bashar al-Assad - firmly in control of Syria.
In that time, the Baathist regime has faced few challenges to its authority in the form of popular protests.
Fierce repression, combined with promises of change, has largely kept Syrian dissent safely contained to intellectual discussion groups, and more recently on the internet.
Syrian politics was not always like this however.
From the 1940s to the early 1960s the Syrian political landscape was shaped by a lively array of competing forces.
The army played a crucial role in events: there were three military coups in 1949 alone, followed by another in 1954, in addition to the Baathist-led coups of 1963 and 1966.
However, popular politics was just as important, with street demonstrations and strikes common forms of protest.
The events of 1953-4 which culminated in the overthrow the military regime of President Adib Shishakli underline how discontent in the provinces can work its way back to the political centre with disastrous consequences for a repressive regime.
In response to the circulation of anti-government leaflets, Gen Shishakli ordered the army into the Jabal Druze area of southern Syria and arrested Druze leaders.
Protesters were killed by the troops, sparking further demonstrations.
Meanwhile student strikes and demonstrations in Aleppo and other northern and central cities were also met with repression.
A clampdown at the end of January 1954 appeared successful, only for Gen Shishakli to be overthrown a month later in a mutiny which began in Aleppo.
Unusually for Syria, the leaders of the coup handed back power to civilians, allowing free elections to be held a few months later.
In 2000, following the death of Hafez al-Assad, intellectual critics of the regime led a resurgence of opposition activity known as the Damascus Spring.
Although this was a flowering of intellectual discussion, rather than a protest movement, it led to a rebirth of political activism among a layer of intellectuals and professionals, some of whom have continued to press for political reform until today.
One such figure is Suhair al-Atassi, who founded the Jamal al-Atassi Forum, a discussion group named after her father, a politician and long-time critic of the government.
The forum was closed down by the authorities in 2005, but Ms Atassi recently relaunched it as an internet-based discussion group.
She was also very active in the online campaign in support of Tal al-Mallouhi, a young woman blogger currently in prison.
The uprisings in Egypt and Libya prompted Ms Atassi and fellow human rights activists to attempt to organise small scale public protests.
"All they were doing was holding candles in front of the embassy," says Mounir Atassi, a family friend.
The activists were attacked by the police and then on 16 March, Suhair al-Atassi was arrested during a demonstration called by the relatives of political prisoners.
Within days of her arrest, events in Deraa had ignited further protests and started a cycle of repression and revolt which has the potential to radicalise wide layers of Syrians.
Mounir Atassi stresses that Suhair and other human rights activists have been calling for reform, not revolution for years.
But the killing of protesters by the authorities is making people start to question the regime directly, he says.
"Now there are more and more sounds of people calling for complete change and no-one can estimate how far these demands will go.
He says mere talk of reforms by government officials is not enough to placate the Syrian people.
"What they hear in the media is completely different to what they see on the ground. That is why they don't believe the promises of the government that it will reform itself."
Anne Alexander is a Buckley Fellow at the Centre for Research in the Arts, Social Sciences and Humanities, University of Cambridge. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 64 | https://truestoryaward.org/story/46 | en | Desaparecidos – The Ghosts of Syria | [
"https://truestoryaward.org/img/tsa-logo-line.svg",
"https://truestoryaward.org/css/icons/burger.svg",
"https://truestoryaward.org/img/social/facebook.svg",
"https://truestoryaward.org/img/social/twitter.svg",
"https://truestoryaward.org/img/social/facebook.svg",
"https://truestoryaward.org/img/social/twi... | [] | [] | [
"True Story Award",
"Global Reporter Prize",
"International Journalism Prize",
"Bern",
"Switzerland"
] | null | [] | null | The True Story Award is a global journalism prize. Its aim is to make reporters’ voices known beyond the borders of their home countries, and in doing so to increase the diversity of perspectives offered in the media. The True Story Award will be conferred by an independent foundation and honours reporters writing in 12 languages, who have distinguished themselves by the depth of their research, the quality of their journalism and its social relevance. | en | /img/site-icons/site-icon-32.png | True Story Award | https://truestoryaward.org/story/46 | Five years have gone by since the Jesuit priest Paolo Dall’Oglio disappeared from the city of Raqqa. But this is not an isolated case: 95 thousand Syrians have been “disappeared” since the beginning of the civil war in Syria: vanished into thin air after ending up in the prisons of the regime or becoming victims of various jihadist groups.
Raqqa – It is a torrid day in late June. For long stretches the road that leads to northern Syria is tortuous and unpaved. From Erbil, the capital of Iraqi Kurdistan, you cross the rolling ochre hills, extending as far as the eye can see. Through the dirty window, you can see rows of white tents enclosed within a metal fence. Although more than seven years have gone by since the start of the conflict, thousands of Syrians still live in refugee camps, right by the Syrian border. Without a visa from the Syrian government, the only way to reach Raqqa is to navigate the natural border provided by the Tigris. We enter the Jazira region, which together with the city of Kobanî is under the control of the Syrian Kurds, whose offices issue the permits needed to reach Raqqa.
This was the last stop of Father Paolo Dall’Oglio’s journey. A journey that had begun more than thirty years earlier in his beloved Syria. A stop that he had chosen, but that became his last station. A sense of mission had led the priest, in late July 2013, to the first city liberated from the rule of the Bashar al-Assad regime. This city was in fact the first to be taken, in March of the same year, by rebel groups, including both Salafist and secular formations. It is also where local committees and forms of self-government were started. Padre Paolo wanted to meet with the locals, the activists, and see how they were organizing. He also wanted to engage in dialogue with the heads of the jihadi militias to convince them not to betray the spirit of the revolution, which he hoped would remain non-violent. He knew the risks he was facing, but he was undeterred. His faith and his lifelong commitment to Syria and its people, as well as the radical Gospel that he was living on the border, led him to travel to the dusty city on the Euphrates.
It was almost noon when Padre Paolo knocked on the gate of the palace of the Raqqa governorate, occupied by rebel groups. He asked the guards at the elegant brick building whether he could meet with the emir. They told him to come back after evening prayer. The priest showed up for the appointment. This time he was told to come back the next day, July 29, 2013. Five years have gone by since then, and he hasn’t been heard from again.
It is hard to visualize the building where Father Paolo was last seen. Rubble and dust are all that’s left of it today. Raqqa, a majority Arab city that became the ISIS capital in January 2014, was ruled for more than three years by Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi’s men. Last October, after a four-month siege, it was taken back by the coalition of Syrian democratic forces under Kurdish leadership and American air power. Piles of debris and junk mark the entrance to an annihilated city. The buildings are crumbling, perforated by shards of protruding metal and dangling electric wires. What used to be homes are now little more than cement skeletons, gray and decrepit. The burnt carcasses of cars are strewn all along the dusty streets. Most of the city, which used to be home to some 200 thousand people, has been levelled by the fury of the bombings. But the endless piles of rubble that mark the landscape are not the only legacy of the war. The acrid odor of decomposing bodies hovers in the air. Thousands of civilians were killed during the fighting and equal numbers were displaced in the war years. Among them is Father Paolo Dall’Oglio.
Loving Islam, Believing in Christ
Word got out quickly when Padre Paolo arrived in Raqqa in late June, 2013. Many citizens were surprised that an Italian priest would travel to the city in that moment. “Abuna Paolo?” says an elderly man, affectionately, wearing a dishdasha, the traditional white robe of Arab men. He is looking at the remains of the Islamic Court of Isis. “Everyone knew him. He was like a prophet, who had come here to spread the principles of peace between societies.”
As a young Jesuit priest, Padre Paolo travelled to Syria the first time in the 1980s to study Arabic, a language he would eventually speak fluently with a Syrian accent. In 1982 he discovered the mission of his life in the ruins of the sixth-century monastery of Saint Moses the Abyssinian (Deir Mar Musa), in the hills north of Damascus. He fell in love with the arid beauty of the parched mountains and the ancient frescoes of the crumbling chapel. Inspired by the centuries-old experience of coexistence in Muslim-Christian society, he decided to restore the monastery and found an ecumenical community. Deir Mar Musa became a destination for international pilgrimage that welcomed people of every faith. Many described Padre Paolo not only as a priest but also as an activist for dialogue between Christians and Muslims. For him it was not religious beliefs that enter into dialogue but rather the believers, who placed themselves before God. He fasted during Ramadan with his Muslim brothers and sisters and in 2011 he wrote a memoir titled In Love with Islam, Believing in Christ. From his idyllic retreat in the Qalamun mountains, Father Dall’Oglio could not, however, ignore the political situation in Syria. In March 2011 and from the first days of the revolution, he sided with the protesters against tyranny. He appealed to the United Nations, requesting the protection of Syrian civilians from indiscriminate attacks by the regime. In June 2012 he was expelled from Syria, but his love of the country to which he had dedicated his life drove him to return twice. In July 2013, during Ramadan, Padre Paolo crossed the border from Gaziantep. He sent a final email to his Italian friends, to whom he confided his wish to travel to Raqqa to meet with the ISIS leadership.
In a house that has remained miraculously intact after the bombing of Raqqa, Mona Fraig remembers Padre Paolo’s arrival in the city. “When he arrived, he came to see us right away. He participated in our protests and in the meetings of civil society,” the activist explains at the headquarters of the non-governmental organization, Civil Society Support Centre, which organizes seminars on the fight against violent extremism and radicalization. “He also participated in the last protest in front of the church, where the al-Nusra Front had removed and destroyed the cross. Padre Paolo supported our peaceful revolution and hoped that it would not turn into a military conflict. This is why he wanted to speak with the people who wanted to create an Islamic State, in an attempt to establish dialogue and convey a message of peace,” Mona adds. Friends of Padre Paolo are sitting next to her. You can immediately sense the deep affection that ties these young Syrians to the Italian priest. Many of them escaped from Syria during the occupation of the Daesh militants but chose to return to Raqqa, trying to keep alive the spiritual legacy preached by Padre Paolo. “His disappearance affected the whole society. For us it was even more painful because we were so close to him,” explains Basheer al-Huwaidi, visibly upset. “Today we try to spread the same message of peace of Islam and Christianity. This is one of the main reasons that encouraged us to return to the city: to work with the community to rebuild that dialogue of peace and tolerance, and put the radicalism and violence behind us.”
Without a body to mourn, it is hard to accept that Padre Paolo is dead. Most of the people met and interviewed during this trip believe that he was murdered and thrown into the river, others claim that he was taken by the regime, while still other sources report that he was arrested by Emir Abdulrahman Al-Faysal, a prominent leader of ISIS and the last person to see Padre Paolo alive. Today the Emir lives freely in Raqqa but every attempt to approach him comes up against a wall of silence. Like Padre Paolo, thousands of people have been disappeared, swallowed up by the quicksand of the Syrian night. In these seven years, the revolution, which began peacefully in 2011, turned into an atrocious civil war that today counts more than 400 thousand dead and 11 million refugees outside the border (one and half million in Lebanon alone), out of a population of 20 million. Not to mention an unspecified number of young people who have fled the country to avoid military service, a million and a half people wanted by the authorities, and thousands of disappeared. The Syrian cities are piles of rubble, the militias and the warlords dictate law over a good part of the territory and, while the Astana “guarantors” – Russia, Iran, and Turkey – have begun to talk about reconstruction and the return of refugees, the theme of justice and the desaparecidos has been all but forgotten.
Desaparecidos in Syria: the Fight of the Women
“It was an emotional and rather unique meeting: an Italian priest kidnapped in Syria and his family affected by the Syrian question. In the tragedy, we succeeded in doing great things together, as Italians and Syrians. If Padre Paolo were alive, he would be happy.” The person who is speaking, at her “second” home in Beirut, is human rights lawyer and expert in enforced disappearances, Noura Ghazi Safadi. It is not easy to get an appointment to see her.
She spends her days alternating between conferences, meetings with the European Commission, and talks with survivors of the government prisons. Since 2011, she has met with more than 2,000 detainees, including peace activists, political prisoners, and opponents of the government. She has gathered testimony and reports of the physical and psychological tortures suffered inside the prisons of the Bashar al-Assad regime. She has spent thousands of hours inside prisons.
As the spokesperson of “Families for Freedom,” and the wife of one of the desaparecidos, Noura has met with various members of the Dall’Oglio family in recent years. Her husband, Bassel Kharabil Safadi, a software engineer and well-know activist, was one of the founding fathers of the Syrian revolution. Arrested in March 2012, he disappeared without a trace in 2015. Noura was forced to leave Syria: too many risks and threats from the regime’s security apparatus.
In Lebanon she joined with other women to create “Families for Freedom,” a movement of mothers, wives, daughters and sisters of disappeared detainees and civilians. Founded in 2017, it brings together the Syrian diaspora in exile in Lebanon, Turkey, France, Germany, and England.
Like in Argentina during the dictatorship of Jorge Rafael Videla, when the Abuelas gathered in the Plaza de Mayo to demand truth and justice for their disappeared children, today it is the turn of the Syrian women. London, Berlin, Paris, Brussels. They rent a bus, covered with photographs of their family members, and travel to the European capitals to draw the governments’ attention to the issue of the desaparecidos in Syria.
“We are not a political group. We represent neither the opposition nor the regime. We are families: we are mothers, sisters, wives. What we are demanding is the right to truth,” Safadi explains.
The women belong to different ethnic and religious groups. They are Arabs and Alawites, Christians and Muslims, and they come from various regions of Syria. They organize using Skype and WhatsApp. “We want to know where our loved ones are. Where are their bodies?” the lawyer affirms resolutely. “We are afraid that many have been cremated to hide proof of the violence and avoid trials in the future.”
According to the Syrian Network for Human Rights, an independent British organization, more than 95 thousand Syrians have been disappeared since the start of the conflict. It is estimated that most of the disappearances were at the hands of the Syrian regime, but at least 11 thousand are attributed to armed groups such as ISIS or Jabhat Fateh al-Sham. Enforced disappearances are not a new phenomenon. According to Leen Hashem, head of Amnesty International’s campaign for Syria, this is a method that has been used in Syria in the past three decades, starting with Bashar’s father, Hafez al-Assad, to silence the political opposition. She explains, however, that the phenomenon intensified in 2011. “We are witnessing the disappearance of hundreds of thousands of people. In general, they are arrested at check-points or taken directly from their homes. The families of the disappeared live in a perennial state of anxiety, not knowing where their loved ones are or if they are still alive. And their relatives, when they try to learn the truth, risk their lives.”
Fadwa Mahmoud is another founder of Families for Freedom. She had to leave Syria on account of her activities to find her husband, Abdelaziz, and her son, Maher, both of whom disappeared on 20 September 2012. Abdelaziz belonged to the Communist Party and had been to China to seek potential peaceful solutions to the conflict. Her son had gone to the airport to pick him up.
“We’re in the car, we’re almost home. I just picked dad up from the airport, he told me. A few minutes later I called him back to ask if he wanted tabbouleh. His phone was out of service. Since that moment I have not known what happened to them. Even if the regime has always denied that they were in the Syrian prisons, I am certain it was the Mukhābarāt (secret services) that took them,” she states without hesitation.
Fadwa, an Alawite like the Assad family, is quite familiar with the regime’s methods of detention and torture. Arrested in 1991 for belonging to a party of opposition to Baath, she served an eighteen-month prison sentence, while she was pregnant with her son Maher. Her husband was imprisoned for 14 years. She recalls that time with a mysterious veil of nostalgia, listing the names of her arrested companions, of the disappeared, and the ideals that led them to hide in damp shacks to read the books of Marx, Lenin, and Gramsci, prohibited by the regime. The phenomenon of enforced disappearances, in fact, has existed in Syria since the 1980s and 90s. Disappearing thousands of people into thin air was the most effective method for repressing opponents and dissidents. Then and now.
Today Fadwa lives in Berlin, but she alternates her time between Germany and Lebanon. Together with Noura Ghazi Safadi, she is one of the promoters of Families for Freedom.
In recent weeks, hundreds of Syrian families have learned that the government has issued death certificates for disappeared relatives, most of whom were summarily executed inside the regime’s prisons. Many human rights observers and experts argue that Bashar al-Assad is convinced he has won the war. Cushioned by international impunity, Assad is confident that there will be no regime change and that the revolutionary spirit of thousands of civilians and activists has been crushed.
“We must work to assure that the ideals for which Abuna Paolo and thousand of young Syrians fought were not in vain,” adds Noura. “Our fight will help future generations, who can one day live in a democratic and civil country.” | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 90 | https://adimagazine.com/articles/because-of-the-droughts/ | en | Because of the Droughts | [
"https://adimagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/10/chanelle-adams_essay.jpg",
"https://adimagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/04/adi-playlist8-420x214.png",
"https://adimagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/Adi_Draft-05-1-420x214.jpg",
"https://adimagazine.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/12/Adi_Draft-04-420x2... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Anna Badkhen",
"Yásnaya Elena Aguilar Gil",
"Craig Kenworthy",
"Athena Farrokhzad",
"Hawa Allan",
"Meara Sharma",
"Jori Lewis",
"Habibe Jafarian",
"Annia Ciezadlo",
"Chanelle Adams"
] | null | The idea that climate change triggered the Syrian uprising is a persistent and dangerous myth. What really happened? | en | Adi magazine | https://adimagazine.com/articles/because-of-the-droughts/ | “I just arrived here.” “Because of the droughts?” asked the inspector. “What?” “You came because of the droughts?” She considered the question. It had rained last year. They had gone hungry for other reasons: the landowners, the price of sugar. There is a trap, she thought, but said, “Yes, because of the droughts.”
—Daniel Mason, A Far Country
We Love You
It’s July 2007—a scorching summer at the end of what is, for now, the hottest decade on record—and the road to Damascus is plastered with gigantic ads. Enormous vinyl banners flap from buildings advertising Samsung, Aiwa, Syriatel, Panasonic. But the most ubiquitous brand is the president, Bashar al-Assad. His faintly cross-eyed face gazes down at you from billboards and posters on every building. Below him floats the word minhebbak: we love you. Bashar was just reelected by a margin of 97.6 percent; not surprising, since he ran unopposed.
In a few years, this road will be one long checkpoint. Most of the people in this story will be in exile. Almost every year will be the hottest on record. But for now, I’m driving to Syria with my soon-to-be ex-husband, on a three-day trip to see a friend, the Syrian writer and journalist Lina Sinjab, and we’re on our way to a world that will soon be gone.
That evening, Lina takes us to a restaurant in the old city. We sit outside on a rooftop terrace under one of the minarets of the eighth-century Umayyad Mosque, which seems to float just above us, timeless, like a palace in the night air. The moon sinks into a thicket of satellite dishes. A hot wind carries the sugary smell of strawberry-flavored argileh smoke. Umm Kulthum’s unearthly voice warbles at us from the 1950s, buoyed by the roars of long-gone crowds. At the next tables, Italians chatter and chain smoke. Scandinavians bark with harsh laughter. And wealthy Syrian women with expensively casual coiffures gossip and sip cool drinks out of hand-painted glass tumblers.
In the north, a drought is just beginning to stretch its wrinkled fingers into the countryside. People are leaving the lands their families have farmed for generations. But here in the new Damascus, air-conditioned luxury stores, boutique hotels, and trendy restaurants are opening every week. Syria will get seven million tourists in 2007, per the Wall Street Journal—almost one tourist for every three Syrians. Potential investors are pouring in from Europe and the Gulf. The streets are choked with oil-black luxury SUVs bearing Saudi and Qatari plates.
Assad is doing what Western pundits and policymakers have been urging him to do for years. He is privatizing, liberalizing, and encouraging foreign investment. He is divesting from the public sector, and as a result, Syria pundit Andrew Tabler notes approvingly in The New York Times, the private sector is “blooming.” Syria’s economy is “creaking open” to the West. The IMF projects that non-oil economic growth will hit a record seven percent. “Assad is relaxing state controls on the once-Socialist economy,” Condé Nast Traveler will gush in a few years. “The arts seem to be opening up, at least a crack, and the Old City is turning into something of a party town.”
But not everyone is invited to the party. The vibrant private sector may be blooming for wealthy investors and foreign tourists, “but it’s not for Syrians,” Lina says. “It’s not helping Syrians at all.”
At the state-run supermarkets that ordinary people rely on for subsidized sugar, flour, and rice, the shelves are bare more often than not. Electricity comes and goes as it pleases; the millions of tourists are straining the country’s already weak infrastructure. Villages are dark at night. Kerosene lamps flicker in the windows.
Driving to the countryside feels like traveling to the 19th century.
Across from the palatial new Four Seasons Hotel, which opened to much ballyhoo in 2005, Lina points to an empty concrete canal. This dry ditch was once the Barada River, the Biblical waterway the prideful Naaman boasted was “better than all the waters of Israel.” Today there isn’t even a trickle. The canal is choked with trash.
Cities are made of water. The Romans built massive aqueducts that brought the Barada’s waters into every house in the city. They fed the city by irrigating the Ghouta, the ring of agricultural land around Damascus, full of apricot, olive, walnut, and fig trees. In the eighth century, the Umayyads built their mosque on the site of an Iron Age temple to the Canaanite god of thunderstorms and rain. Without the water and the waterworks, none of it—the Four Seasons, the mosque, this ancient city itself—would ever have existed.
“Look what they’ve done to it,” says Lina. Her face is twisted with a pain that I will think of years later, when I first learn the word solastalgia: the shipwrecked sorrow that we feel when environmental changes destroy the natural worlds of our homes. “It’s gone.”
So here we have a murder mystery. Who killed the river? What does the Barada tell us today, when so many of the world’s great rivers—the Po, the Yangtze, the Colorado, the Indus—are disappearing too? The story of Syria is a warning to the rest of the world. But of what?
Influx
Ask someone from the West about Syria, and they will think of war, violence, and the Islamic State. Most Westerners see Syria through a war-on-terror-colored filter of refugees and revolution and bearded men with guns.
But for Western pundits, journalists, and policymakers, Syria has become the symbol of yet another existential threat: climate change. To the class of people that decides why things happen, the Syrian revolution and its brutal suppression, which spiraled into a bloody conflict, was a harbinger of a Hobbesian world to come. In this version of history, Syria was a “climate conflict” in which a drought made worse by climate change led to civil war and a wave of climate refugees who destabilized Western countries.
“Beginning in 2011, about one million Syrian refugees were unleashed on Europe by a civil war inflamed by climate change and drought,” writes the climate pundit David Wallace-Wells, in his bestselling 2019 book, The Uninhabitable Earth. “In a very real sense, much of the ‘populist moment’ the entire West is passing through now is the result of panic produced by the shock of those migrants.”
In this narrative, the words deployed to describe Syrian people are always of something nonhuman (consider that word unleashed). They are a crisis. They are water: a wave, a surge, a “river of refugees.” They flood, they flow, they infiltrate, they inundate, they ripple. Above all, they are an influx: from the Latin word influxus, “a flowing in,” a word of rivers, air, and light, as in the mouth of a stream flowing into a river or the sea (and also the origin of influence and influenza, which we used to believe was caused by the influence of the stars streaming down).
There’s often a parenthetical disclaimer, an ass-covering nod to the fact that migration has many causes and it’s all very complex. But climate change is always the catalyst. It is the trigger. The fuse. It is the “threat multiplier,” the “scary hidden stressor,” the spark that ignited a “volatile mix of underlying causes.” It inflames. If the migrants are water, then climate change is all fire, heat, explosives and military jargon.
Without climate change, goes this narrative, Syria would not have had the war, the Islamic State, or the resulting influx of climate migrants. And without this threat multiplier, these climate migrants would not have caused a crisis that destabilized Europe and the entire Western world.
These Fucking Dictators
Ask someone from Syria what they think of the idea that climate change triggered the Syrian uprising, and you will probably hear an exasperated sigh. Followed by a deep breath as the person tries to come up with a diplomatic answer. Or not.
“It exonerates these fucking dictators!” shouts Mahmoud Nowara, a Syrian-Palestinian author and journalist who was jailed by the Syrian government in one of its many crackdowns on political dissent. “And it lets the West off the hook too. It’s an excuse for the indifference of the West.”
Ever since 2013, when this theory first appeared, I’ve been asking Syrians and other experts what they think of it. From tenured academic economists and political scientists to displaced Syrian farmers, cooks, and teachers, everyone I’ve spoken to hates the idea.
“This narrative is very successful in popular culture, because it draws attention,” says Marwa Daoudy, a Syrian political scientist and associate professor at Georgetown University in Washington, DC. “But for the people in the country and in the region, this is deeply offensive, and also not accurate.”
Daoudy was so troubled by the Syria-as-climate-conflict narrative that she wrote an award-winning book to refute it. In The Origins of the Syrian Conflict: Climate Change and Human Security, which came out in 2020, she designs a new framework for looking at crises with multiple, overlapping causes and effects—not just in Syria, but anywhere. Her model for analyzing the different elements of a crisis makes it a useful handbook for any catastrophe in this age of catastrophes, be it climate, coronavirus, or the ones we haven’t discovered yet.
Daoudy doesn’t blame climate scientists for being attracted to the climate conflict narrative. “I think there was a valid intention behind it,” she says. They wanted to draw attention to climate change. “When you’re alarmist, you get action. You can reach a wider audience by having this catchy headline: ‘Climate conflict, look at the wave of migration, look at the conflict in Darfur, in Syria.’”
Darfur is the reason many experts on international migration and climate change have been skeptical of the Syria-as-climate-conflict theory from the beginning. The conventional wisdom on Darfur was also that it was a “climate conflict”—until scientists and economists established that weather conditions and crops had actually improved in the years before the conflict. Yet even though scholars disproved it years ago, the Darfur-as-climate-conflict myth persists in the media to this day.
Today, scholars on Syria, migration, and climate change have also thoroughly debunked the notion that Syria is a climate conflict. And yet, in our post-fact world, it lives on as gospel to the agenda-setting class of Western journalists, policymakers, and politicians. News outlets and their fact-checking watchdogs accept it without question. It determines multi-million-dollar funding and policy decisions, dictating everything from presidential remarks to infotainment, documentaries, and even cartoons. It unites the anticapitalist left and the neoconservative right: Bernie Sanders, Prince Charles, Barack Obama, Naomi Klein, Thomas Friedman, Mother Jones, The American Conservative, and the government of Syrian President Bashar al-Assad—they all agree.
But if climate change didn’t trigger the Syrian uprising, what did? To answer that question, we have to go back to a time when rivers ruled us, instead of the other way around.
The Rebel River
Before the war, before European powers drew the borders of the Syrian nation-state—in fact, long before the idea of the modern nation-state even existed—there were the norias of Nahr al-Aasi, the Rebel River, also known as the Orontes of the Bible.
The norias were giant wooden wheels with a series of little wooden boxes on the outside rim. The bottom of each wheel dipped into the river. The force of the water made the wheel turn, or revolve (the origin of our modern word revolution). As the wheel revolved, the little boxes scooped up water at the bottom, when they were in the river, and dumped it into giant aqueducts at the top. The aqueducts took the water throughout the town and surrounding countryside to irrigate gardens and farms.
The wheels date back to the Middle Ages, but the design goes back much earlier, to at least the third century CE, if not before. Individual people owned the wheels, but the entire community shared the water collectively. The norias are just one of many ancient water-sharing systems that form the basis of human agriculture, and what we call civilization—leading eventually, but perhaps not inevitably, to nation-states and borders and wars.
Spin the wheel several million times, until you get to World War I. After the war, the newly formed League of Nations grants France the mandate over the state of Syria, carved out of the old Ottoman Empire. A few million more revolutions, and in 1946 the nation gains independence. In the next 24 years, it staggers through no less than six coups. In November 1970, an air force general named Hafez al-Assad seizes power. He rules the country for the next three decades. His son, Bashar al-Assad, rules it to this day.
In the late 1970s, Syria’s Muslim Brotherhood launches an uprising against Assad’s Baath Party. The Brotherhood’s campaign of suicide bombings and assassinations kill several hundred Baath Party officials, military officers, and civil servants. The government responds with torture, killings, and commando assaults on cities like Aleppo, where Brotherhood support is high. They kill thousands of people.
In February 1982, the Brotherhood seizes control of Hama, where the norias of Nahr al-Aasi still churn the river. Hafez al-Assad sends his brother Rifaat to seal off the city and crush the uprising with a three-week military assault. The military massacres between 10,000 and 30,000 people; to this day, no one knows exactly how many. Most of the people they massacre are civilians.
“It took three weeks,” said one survivor to a reporter from National Public Radio. “We stayed in school overnight because we couldn’t walk back home. We walked over dead bodies.”
Hafez’s son Bashar, a gangling youth, is 16 years old.
The Lentil Revolution
It’s October 21, 1982. The Brotherhood uprising has been crushed. Now it’s time to build the future. Just six months after its military massacres Hama, the Syrian government unveils a plan for a gleaming new $30 million scientific research complex in the countryside south of Aleppo. At the opening ceremony, the governor of Aleppo presents a plaque of the project’s patron and host: Syrian president Hafez al-Assad.
The new facility is for the International Center for Agricultural Research in the Dry Areas, or ICARDA, a nonprofit organization that conducts scientific agricultural research in dry areas spanning 50 countries, from Morocco to Bangladesh.The organization’s goal is “to improve the agricultural production and thus the economic and social wellbeing of people who live in the ICARDA region.”
This is the zenith of the Green Revolution. In the mid-20th century, an agronomist named Norman Borlaug had figured out how to increase crop yields dramatically. Crop science and biotechnology make such staggering advances in growing cereals that the world’s agricultural output doubles over 30 years. Looming food crises in Asia, Africa, and the Americas are averted. The Green Revolution’s true believers declare—and still do to this day—that they will end hunger forever by producing ever more food.
Since the 1960s, a group of Middle Eastern governments has been collaborating with the Ford Foundation on an ambitious dream: to take the Green Revolution’s miracles in wheat and rice and translate them to the Middle East’s staple crops of wheat, barley, lentils, fava beans, and chickpeas.
Everyone funds this new center’s operations. The United States Agency for International Development (USAID) and the World Bank each kick in about $3.7 million. The Organization of Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC) donates $3.165 million just for the buildings. Various foundations and world governments—Germany, Canada, the UK, Italy, Australia—sign on.
The Syrian government is also one of ICARDA’s longstanding donors, and will be throughout the next 40 years. But their biggest gift is the land itself, 948 hectares outside Aleppo. Syria’s state-owned construction company, Milihouse, builds a state-of the-art complex, with laboratories, lecture rooms, an auditorium, and a library. There’s a computer center, a printing shop, and an international baccalaureate school, the only one in Syria, where the children of Aleppine elites go to class with the sons and daughters of American scientists and their colleagues from all over the world.
The Arab governments and their Western partners dream of an “Arab ‘agricultural supermarket’” that will convert oil money into food. Syria will be the breadbasket. The complex outside Aleppo will be the laboratory of that dream. “We are an insurance policy,” ICARDA director Dr. Harry S. Darling says in 1978, “against food running short in the Middle East.”
The Population Bomb
In 1968, an entomologist Paul Ehrlich wrote a book called The Population Bomb. It opens with a “hellish” scene of “one stinking hot night in Delhi,” when he and his family find themselves driving through “a crowded slum area” where “the streets seemed alive with people.” Some might think streets being alive with people is a good thing. But not Ehrlich: “People, people, people, people,” he writes, ominously, in case you missed the message that there are too many people.
“The battle to feed all of humanity is over,” wrote Ehrlich. “In the 1970s and 1980s hundreds of millions of people will starve to death in spite of any crash programs embarked upon now.” Unless humans stopped breeding, he predicted, hundreds of millions more would starve, and “mankind will breed itself into oblivion.”
This idea that our world has too many mouths to feed is not new. It goes back to 1798, when Thomas Malthus published his “Essay on the Principle of Population.” Nine years after the French Revolution, when high bread prices and other grievances ended up toppling the monarchy, Malthus argued that famines were nature’s way of correcting the balance when the planet’s population gets too big for its food supply. Famines are inevitable, according to this philosophy, which we now call Malthusian, when the earth’s population exceeds its ability to produce food. And if people go hungry or die, in a Malthusian world, that is part of a sad but inevitable natural process that will restore some planetary balance. To end hunger, then, it is tragic but ultimately necessary that some of those excess people must die. When Ebenezer Scrooge says poor people had better die, “and decrease the surplus population,” that’s Charles Dickens brutally subtweeting Malthus.
The problem, then—the other, unstated corollary to Malthusianism—is not only that there’s too many people. The problem is that there’s too many of the wrong people. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that a Malthusian obsession with hunger and overpopulation became the existential environmental threat in the 1960s and 1970s, when people across the world are rising up en masse to demand decolonization, self-determination and basic human rights.
That mass starvation never came to pass, for many reasons, one of them being Norman Borlaug and his Green Revolution. When Borlaug won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1970, just two years after The Population Bomb came out, his acceptance speech was a Malthusian fever dream. “Most people still fail to comprehend the magnitude and menace of the ‘Population Monster,’” Borlaug said. If we ignore the tension between population growth and food supply, he continued, the result will be “worldwide disorders and social chaos, for it is a fundamental biological law that when the life of living organisms is threatened by shortage of food they tend to swarm and use violence to obtain their means of sustenance.”
All the Palaces in the World
In 1980, Syrian President Hafez al-Assad gives a speech and declares himself a peasant and the son of a peasant. “To lie amidst the spikes of grain or on the threshing floor,” he says, “is, in my eyes, worth all the palaces in the world.”
Syria becomes one of the Green Revolution’s biggest success stories. Borlaug’s wizardry with seeds makes it not just possible but cheap to produce “strategic crops” in the country like cotton, sugar beets and wheat. And for the next 30 years, with only a few exceptions, Syria is self-sufficient in wheat.
Agriculture is central to Assad’s apparatus of state power. Domestically, controlling food production is an excellent way to control peasants. Geostrategically, it’s invaluable, too: instead of becoming a client state of the US or the Soviet Union, and depending on them for cheap wheat, Assad plays them off each other with the skill of a master.
ICARDA is Assad’s secret weapon. The laboratory outside of Aleppo conducts its wheat research jointly with Syria’s government-run agriculture program. Together they develop improved strains of wheat that increase crop yields dramatically. Between 1977 and 2008, the Syrian government’s partnership with ICARDA produces over 80 improved strains of wheat. According to ICARDA’s own reports, those improvements account for about 90 percent of all the wheat planted in Syria.
By 2008, wheat production has almost quadrupled, from about 1.2 million tonnes to 4.8 million tonnes, making Syria a net exporter of wheat—almost unheard of in a region where most countries have been importing for years.
This increased productivity in wheat nets the Syrian government over $350 million a year, as ICARDA’s general director boasts in a conference report called Sustainable Development in the Dry Lands: Meeting the Challenge of Global Climate Change. The report is published in December 2010.
That month, a policewoman confiscates the stock of a struggling fruit and vegetable peddler named Tarek el-Tayeb Mohamed Bouazizi in Sidi Bouzid, Tunisia (a country that, in 2010, has one of the highest per capita wheat consumption rates in the world).
Bouazizi sets himself on fire to protest police harassment and economic injustice. He dies three weeks later. But the Arab revolutions are born. Protesters in Egypt, Yemen, Tunisia, and elsewhere wave baguettes and loaves of Arabic flatbread and chant “bread, freedom, and social justice.” Bouazizi inspires uprisings against undemocratic governments across the Middle East and even the world.
I Will Drink It Myself
But Assad’s stunning success in agriculture comes at a cost. All of Syria will pay the price, in a currency more valuable than all the palaces in the world: water. For years, hydrologists—including some of ICARDA’s own scientists—have been predicting that Syria’s intensive “mining” of groundwater for agriculture will lead to severe water shortages. They are correct.
To grow his “strategic crops” like wheat, cotton, sugar beets, barley, Hafez al-Assad builds gigantic dams that flooded entire villages. He creates vast reservoirs to irrigate these lucrative but water-intensive crops. During the 1980s and 1990s alone, Syria’s production of wheat more than doubles—and so does the number of wells that suck the country’s aquifers dry. By 2010, the number of wells will have more than quadrupled, from about 50,000 in 1980 to 230,000.
In Syria, the traditional bedouin grazing system, hima (Arabic for protected), has conserved water and maintained the dryland steppes for centuries. But now the state and its international NGO partnersbegins to herd bedouins into fixed settlements built around more wells, often on the outskirts of cities. This is done in the name of development and environmental conservation. But, as the Syrian scholar Haian Dukhan points out, it also helps to control rural populations.
In the mid-1990s, the Barada River begins to change. The Biblical river that fed Damascus for millennia becomes dirty, filled with sewage, and on some days, simply disappears. “It was really despair,” says Muhammad Fares (a pseudonym), a researcher and journalist who grew up in the Barada River Valley. “The valley became very sad. You could see it in the dried-up old trees, less butterflies and birds, and less water.”
By the end of the decade, the ancient river is dying. Wells are running dry. Centuries-old orchards are dying too. The people who live on the banks of a once-great river have to buy water from tankers.
Fares remembers how a delegation of people from the area go to the Prime Minister’s office. An old man named Abu Ali stands in front of the office holding up a bottle of muddy water that he’d filled from the tap at his house in his village. “If you can drink this,” he shouts, “I will drink it myself!”
The Prime Minister promises them he will do something. But it’s too late: the water is gone.
If the government of Syria had invested in expensive but water-saving drip irrigation systems at this point (or any other), and made them widely available to farmers, say agronomists and hydrologists, things might have turned out differently. Instead, the government invests in the cheaper infrastructure of magical thinking and propaganda. In 1999, during a drought so severe that farmers have to use raw sewage to irrigate their crops, Hafez al-Assad begins to popularize the ritual of calling nationwide mass gatherings to pray for rain.
Exiles
Hafez al-Assad dies in June 2000. His son Bashar takes power. Right away, he passes a decree privatizing Syria’s collective farms. It is the beginning of Assad’s trademark approach, the first of many economic “reforms” that will define this era: neoliberal free-market austerity coupled with old-fashioned state repression.
A lot of Syrians, even the ones who hate Hafez al-Assad, will tell you that in his day people from the countryside had a chance of social mobility. But Bashar sees farmers as backward, a hindrance to the modern urban image he is trying to project to the European Union and other foreign investors. He wants to steer Syria’s economy away from farming and into sectors like real estate, tourism, and luxury construction. “Bashar is a son of the city and a man of Damascus,” says Jihad Yazigi, editor-in-chief of The Syria Report, an online economic bulletin. “He represents the economic interests of the new elite.”
By the early 2000s, farmers in Darayya, a town in the Ghouta famous for its grapes, are already struggling to irrigate their trees. During the war, Darayya will be one of the first areas to rebel; later, it will be famous, like much of the Ghouta, for a government campaign of siege and deliberate starvation called “kneel or starve.”
In the early 2000s, farmers pay huge sums of money to dig wells and buy fuel to pump water through 700-meter hoses. But the groundwater is disappearing. Generational farmer Salem al-Athuak invests a lot of money on two wells, each 120 meters deep, and gets nothing. Those lucky farmers who have access to wells that still draw water rent them to their neighbors. “If you have large trees and you are worried they’ll die, you will rent water by the hour,” he says.
By July 2001, water is so scarce that the government shuts off the water supply to Damascus for 16 hours a day. In 2002, when officials from Assad’s Baath Party show up to a farmers’ festival in Raqqa, farmers drive them off, throwing stones and shouting: “Corruption sucks the lifeblood from farmers!”
In 2004, a $5 billion development project by the Japanese government is supposed to bring water to towns in the Ghouta from nearby rivers. But the water never makes it to the farmers in Darayya. By the time it passes through politically connected areas —housing developments, officers’ houses, “big farms and important people,” says al-Athuak—nothing is left.
Most of al-Athuak’s trees die. The only ones that make it are the tough native trees that know how to survive on hardly any water: olives, figs, pomegranates. Some farmers go back to traditional rainfed crops like okra and me’ti, the dense, deeply ridged heirloom cucumbers that Syrians have grown for centuries.
In 2005, Bashar announces that he is going to transition Syria’s economy from state socialism (at least in name) to a “social market economy.” In theory, that’s a hybrid economy that combines free-market capitalism with a social safety net. But Bashar and his wife Asma, a former JP Morgan investment banker, both subscribe to the neoliberal creed that poverty can be cured, or at least obscured, by the soothing incantation of keywords like “opportunity” and “development.” Asma al-Assad, according to her public relations materials, “firmly believes that the sustainable answer to social need is not aid but opportunity.”
In reality, Assad’s shiny new “reforms” are simply privatization without competition, otherwise known as oligarchy. The “social market” economy is just monopoly gangster capitalism with a side of neoliberal bootstrap. The market for farmers is an old-fashioned monopsony: as the price of water and fuel go up, the money that farmers get for their crops, set by the state, remains much the same.
Rural areas that once thrived are slowly being starved of resources—natural, economic, and social. Rural unemployment goes up. So does resentment against the government and the new urban elite. As capital flees the countryside, farmers begin migrating to cities in search of Asma’s elusive “opportunity.”
The vulnerabilities that Marwa Daoudy’s book analyzes—corruption, unemployment, poverty, groundwater depletion, and austerity—are all converging on the most economically precarious people: those who grow the nation’s food.
“We felt,” says al-Athuak, when I interview him years later, “like exiles in our own country.”
Social Explosion
When the drought hits, in the winter growing season of 2006–2007, Assad is flirting with the West, and the West is flirting back. That spring, US House Speaker Nancy Pelosi visits Damascus and meets with Assad. She tours the old city and pronounces it wonderful. Syria, says The New York Times, is “creaking open to the West after decades of closure.”
But inside Syria, doors are creaking shut. When I get to Damascus, in that hot summer of 2007, the government has just sentenced five writers, dissidents, and human rights lawyers to years in prison. In the past few weeks, the government has arrested about 200 people, mostly in Aleppo. All young. All in their 20s and 30s. “And the minimum sentence they’re getting is five years,” says Lina Sinjab, our journalist friend. “That’s the minimum.”
The next day, there is an explosion outside of Aleppo, in a weapons storage warehouse. Eighteen soldiers killed; between 50 or 60 injured. The government claims the heat caused the weapons to explode. Lina doesn’t think the explosion is an accident.
Everything is exploding. “Two nights ago, in Saydnaya, where I live, there was a huge explosion right next to our house,” says another friend. “All of a sudden, the whole house was lit up. We were so scared! We just sat in our house and waited to see what would happen.”
There is a weapons warehouse next door to their house too. “Are there weapons warehouses everywhere?” I ask, laughing.
I am joking, but she nods, perfectly serious: yes.
On our last evening, we sit on Lina’s balcony and eat cherries and watermelon out of a blue bowl. There have been many small attacks here and there, she says. Nothing big—not like the Brotherhood uprising in the 1980s. But a series of little fires that will spread across the country like a string of firecrackers if they are ever connected.
“There is something going on,” she says, slowly, looking out over the tall buildings, the trees, the parks. “Something boiling behind this peaceful-looking country.”
Leakage
In 2009, the third year of the drought, international food and fuel prices are peaking, farmers are on the brink of starvation, unemployment is increasing, and inflation is soaring. Assad chooses this moment—amid the global financial collapse and third year of drought—to lift the state’s long-standing subsidies on fuel and fertilizer. This is one of the austerity measures that Western institutions like the IMF, the EU, and the World Bank have been recommending for years. Fuel prices skyrocket.
For the IMF, this is a resounding success. The IMF’s rosy 2009 staff report on Syria—the last one it will issue, as it happens—reads like a dispatch from another planet. In this tidy never-world, the Syrian authorities are implementing gradual but wide-ranging reforms to “transition toward a social market economy.” The IMF recommends that Syria accelerate these “structural reforms.”
The drought comes up exactly four times in 41 pages. Water is never mentioned at all. As for the increase in fuel prices, it is exactly what the country needs: “The increase in domestic energy prices reduced the cross-border leakage of subsidies,” the IMF notes approvingly, “as reflected in the subsequent sharp reduction in diesel and fuel oil consumption.”
Because of The Drought
Here’s what that “sharp reduction in diesel and fuel oil consumption” means for Syrian farmers: catastrophe. Overnight, their costs quadruple. They can’t afford to pump water from wells, use tractors, or transport their crops to markets. Many farmers end up feeding ruined crops, like sugar beets, to their sheep.
The lethal combination of austerity and drought squeezes farmers in an ever-tighter vise: as water disappears, they need to drill deeper wells; but higher fuel prices make that impossible. “The farmers would suffer six months, work so hard and put in so much effort, only for the government to earn four times what they did,” says Walid al-Yousef, a Syrian farmer from the countryside outside Aleppo. “This is what pushed us toward an agricultural revolution.”
The fuel prices make it pointless for many farmers to continue farming. They can make more money selling their land to Qatari investors than by farming it. All of the people who once worked on those farms are now out of a job.
By the 2009–10 growing season, as the IMF issues its glowing economic outlook for Syria, and ICARDA publishes its report boasting of Syria’s wheat production, and Condé Nast Traveler declares “Dawn in Damascus,” the UN and the Red Cross estimate that over 800,000 people in Syria’s traditional wheat-growing region have lost their livelihoods. Up to 80 percent of those people, says the UN, “live mostly on a diet of bread and sugared tea, which is not enough to cover daily calorific and protein needs for a healthy life.”
So much for ICARDA’s promise to be an insurance policy against food running short. In a country that has the world’s finest agricultural consultants in its back pocket, that has been raking in $350 million a year from wheat, the people who had historically grown that wheat are living on the brink of starvation.
In December 2009, Syrian Prime Minister Naji al-Otri blames Syria’s economic problems on “the climate changes and drought which Syria suffered during the past three years.” In March 2011, as the uprising begins, Bashar al-Assad gives a speech. He speaks about “a huge conspiracy” against him—and, like al-Otri, he blames the drought.
Over the next ten years, as the crisis spirals into a bloody conflict, Assad will rally his supporters periodically, especially at times of political tension, to gather at mosques throughout Syria and pray for rain.
Stressor
Western pundits picked up Assad’s narrative and amplified it with gusto. In 2013, The New York Times columnist Thomas Friedman wrote that climate change was the “scary hidden stressor” that “helped to fuel the revolutions.” A stressor, he notes, quoting scholar Anne-Marie Slaughter, is a “sudden change in circumstances or environment that interacts with a complicated psychological profile in a way that leads a previously quiescent person to become violent.”
Climate change makes people hungry; hunger makes them violent; all those violent hungry people cause conflict. From this chain of dubious propositions, Friedman fashioned a new dogma: a climate-fueled drought, he argued, was “one of the key drivers” in Syria’s uprising and subsequent war. He predicted that “in an age of climate change, we are likely to see many more such conflicts.”
A climate scientist named Colin Kelley read Friedman’s argument and was inspired to write a paper about it. To bolster the key contention that the drought was instrumental in “pushing people toward revolution,” Kelley cited Friedman’s column. To this day, media outlets all over the world now cite Kelley’s study, citing Friedman, as scientific proof of Friedman’s own assertion that climate change was “a key driver” in the Syrian conflict—including, inevitably, The New York Times, which publishes Friedman.
“Drought helped push many Syrians into cities before the war, worsening tensions and leading to rising discontent; crop losses led to unemployment that stoked Arab Spring uprisings in Egypt and Libya; Brexit, even, was arguably a ripple effect of the influx of migrants brought to Europe by the wars that followed,” wrote The New York Times Magazine in July 2020. That article proclaimed that “The Great Climate Migration Has Begun.”
To bolster its argument that “the influx of migrants” has begun—bringing with them war, instability, and some sinister influence that instigates the British, previously a reasonable people, into Brexit—that article cited Kelley’s study, the one that cited Friedman’s columns in The New York Times—a perfect punditry ouroboros. The narrative drives the science, and the science, in turn, drives the narrative: a perpetual motion machine, a kind of water wheel like the norias, endlessly churning, powered by a river of bad ideas.
It’s The Austerity, Stupid
Thomas Friedman praised the IMF for urging Arab states to remove subsidies and said it would make Arab states more “resilient.” The undemocratic rulers who were squeezing their populations dry, literally as well as figuratively, could fix it all by simply squeezing them even harder.
But if any one factor can be said to have “triggered” the Syrian revolution, it was exactly the policy that Friedman was praising: imposing austerity measures, with no safeguards, on a countryside already sucked dry of environmental or economic resilience by decades of exploitation and neglect. By repackaging Assad’s excuse, Friedman was absolving him of responsibility. “This argument has been pushed forward by a lot of the people who were in power in Syria, the economic decision makers,” says editor Yazigi. “Because when you say it’s the drought, you basically say ‘It’s a god-made problem that caused the uprising, we have no responsibility.’”
Every Syrian I spoke to pointed out three things: that the drought was terrible for farmers; that climate change did exacerbate it; but that farmers could have come through it fine if their government had not mismanaged water resources for decades—and then left farmers to pay for the consequences.
“It was not a drought that was dangerous,” says Walid al-Yousef, the farmer from outside Aleppo, who farmed through many droughts. “What we needed was a change in the types of crops.”
Political scientist Haian Dukhan, now a lecturer in politics and international relations at Teesside University, conducted field interviews in the areas affected by the drought. “The eastern part of the country is rich with natural resources, oil and gas,” he says. “A lot of people said: ‘If we were able to get jobs in that sector, or if the resources in that part of the country were distributed naturally, then the drought could have had zero impact on our life.’”
Daoudy thinks the government could have averted the crisis if it had taken adaptation measures instead of austerity. “When you decide to liberalize the agricultural sector at the time of a severe drought, you’re adding to the climatic vulnerability,” says Daoudy. “In Morocco, for example, you had a very severe drought in 2016. Why doesn’t it lead to conflict? Because there were different policies, decisions taken at the time, by the elites.”
Infiltration
On November 13, 2015, Islamic State attackers killed 130 people in a series of coordinated attacks in Paris. Western journalists consistently describe the Paris attackers as having left Syria to “infiltrate Europe,” or having “arrived on Europe’s shores from Syria posing as refugees.” As a result, most Westerners associate the attacks with Syrian refugees.
But none of the attackers ever identified were Syrian refugees. Those who were identified were EU citizens, Belgian or French. A few of them had, in fact, infiltrated Syria to join the Islamic State.
The Paris attacks came just two weeks before a historic climate summit in Paris. And in the days after the attacks, a chorus of Western pundits used them, and the Syria myth, to warn the West of “climate-fuelled violence and migration.”
“The connection between warming temperatures and the cycle of Syrian violence is, by now, uncontroversial,” wrote Jason Box and Naomi Klein—citing, of course, Kelley’s study. They recommended planting trees in order to help Middle Easterners to “stay on their land.”
Climate change, refugees, the Islamic State, and “Syrian violence” all became linked in the popular imagination. “Climate change feeds terror” became the new narrative. Migrants and refugees fleeing conflict or catastrophe became potential terrorists. If climate change was a “threat multiplier,” then refugees themselves were now the threat.
And it’s not just Syria. Today, the pundits say climate change is driving Taliban recruitment in Afghanistan. Climate change is causing Honduras and Guatemala to send an “influx of migrants” to America’s southern border and causing the border crisis in the United States. Climate will cause “up to a million” migrants per year from the global south to seek asylum in Europe by the end of the century. Climate change “feeds terror” and helps groups like Boko Haram. One study even tracked how weather variations in “source countries” in the global south translated into asylum applications to the European Union, citing a body of quasi-Victorian science which purports to prove that heat, and therefore climate change, creates “violence-prone individuals.” It cited, you guessed it, Kelley’s study.
In this version of events, climate change is always the decisive factor. Never mind the 20 years of a violent, pointless, and failed war on terror that killed countless Afghan civilians. Pay no attention to the decades of American-backed coups that transformed Honduras into a narco state. Or to the failed war on drugs that turned Guatemala into what one journalist recently called, as security forces were dragging him into a tribunal on trumped-up charges, a “narco-klepto-dictatorship.” And definitely don’t mention the fact that the overwhelming majority of climate migrants—oh yes, they are real—migrate internally, inside their own countries.
An Apolitical Food Problem
Because climate change has made countries like Syria, Honduras, Guatemala, and Afghanistan so unstable, goes the new myth, the only way to stop these migrants from coming is to increase the large-scale global production of food—using increased amounts of pesticides, fertilizer, and expensive tech—in order to “feed the future,” maintain political stability, and prevent migration.
But these apocalyptic warnings that the world is running out of food ignore an uncomfortable truth: people don’t starve, or rebel, or migrate because there isn’t enough food. They do these things because food is available—but not to them.
In 1981, an economist named Amartya Sen discovered a disturbing paradox about a World War II-era famine in Bengal. While 3 million Bengalis were starving to death in the famine, the country was producing just as much food (if not more) than in previous years.
What made the famine so deadly was a lethal convergence of simple economic laws: political instability led to price volatility, grain hoarding, and people not being able to work. The result was that people who needed food the most did not have the money to buy it. Democracy, Sen concluded, was what Bengal needed more of, not food. “There is, indeed, no such thing,” wrote Sen, “as an apolitical food problem.”
Sen went on to win the 1998 Nobel Prize in Economics. And yet, to this day, most of us still think that hunger means there’s not enough food—and that the solution is growing more of it.
The idea that growing too much food could result in hunger is so counterintuitive that it’s almost impossible for most of us to grasp. But strange though it may seem, what happened in Syria is exactly that.
Involution
For the West, the Syrian conflict is over (for Syrians it isn’t). But the Syria myth, and the atavistic fear that spawned it, is still shaping our responses to new crises, from coronavirus to currency collapses to the war in Ukraine. Today the fear of hunger, migrants and instability has become so ingrained—thanks, in large part, to the Syria myth—that the looming, climate-driven global famine and “Great Climate Migration” now seem as inevitable to us as they did to Malthus and Ehrlich.
That feeling of inevitability is pushing policymakers toward a dangerous inward spiral that anthropologists and economists call an involution trap: when failed agricultural policies result in economic stress, institutions often respond by doubling down on exactly those failed policies that caused the stresses, leading to a death spiral that can result in catastrophes like famines. The case of Syria, where the government’s neglect forced farmers to keep digging deeper wells, instead of diversifying crops and modernizing irrigation systems, is a perfect example.
Today the whole world is facing the same choice that Syria did. Pundits and policymakers are heading us in two directions. One requires a revolution in the way we produce food, toward a more sustainable system of small-scale agroecology that will produce less carbon—and, if done right, feed farmers as well as everyone else. The other, which is dominant, is pushing us toward an involution trap, using Malthusian fears to justify doubling down on exactly the failed policy that caused Syria’s problems in the first place: increasing agricultural cash crop production at the expense of sustainability.
Worldwide, agriculture accounts for 70 percent of all groundwater extraction. In Syria—or California, for that matter—large-scale, extractive cash crop agriculture drains irreplaceable water reserves and intensifies water shortages and droughts. Globally, crop agriculture accounts for about 10 percent of carbon emissions (animal agriculture is about 20 percent). Industrial cash-crop agriculture has degraded soil, sucked aquifers dry, and led to widespread desertification and deforestation—and that’s not counting other environmental effects, like erosion, algal blooms, biodiversity loss, and, of course, drought. On top of all that, it has often failed, spectacularly, in the goal of feeding people—as it did in Syria.
Climate change is indeed the signal catastrophe of our time. Natural catastrophes have quadrupled in our lifetimes. And climate-fueled catastrophes are making food supplies more unpredictable and prices more volatile. But the forces that make people starve—and ultimately rebel—are power imbalances like income inequality and undemocratic governments. If we can acknowledge that the roots of the Syrian drought and uprising were political and economic, then we can find political and economic solutions to other conflicts. And that will also be good for the environment, because over-extraction of natural resources, for the benefit of a few, is another product of those undemocratic forces.
This is why it’s important to get the real roots of the Syrian conflict right. It’s understandable to want a talking point against the absurdity of climate change denial. But using a war to prove a point—and grossly oversimplifying it in the process—is dangerous because it obscures the economic and environmental brutality that caused it, and thereby allows that brutality to continue.
The Syrian conflict is a warning to all of us in the Anthropocene—but not the way we think. It’s a warning to the entire world about what not to do as the climate changes. Today, rivers like the Barada are disappearing all over the world, even as the seas rise. Climate change is indeed making this worse. But one of the key reasons is the one we keep overlooking: a massive bill coming due in an account we all opened back in those heady days of the Green Revolution, when everything seemed possible, if only we just kept growing more and more food. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 89 | https://www.hrw.org/news/2015/08/10/yara-bader-syria | en | Yara Bader, Syria | [
"https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/styles/480w/public/multimedia_images_2015/2015-defenders-yara-bader.jpeg?itok=Xr7KN7nK 480w, /sites/default/files/styles/embed_xxl/public/multimedia_images_2015/2015-defenders-yara-bader.jpeg?itok=zymIKCro 946w",
"https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/styles/square/publi... | [
"https://www.youtube.com/embed/cpcJLxLPrjA",
"https://www.youtube.com/embed/7lgBl0IOMfo"
] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | 2015-08-10T00:00:00 | Yara Bader, a journalist and human rights activist, works to expose the detention and torture of journalists, bloggers, aid workers, and human rights activists—including her husband, the prominent activist Mazen Darwish—in war-torn Syria. | en | /sites/default/files/favicon.ico | Human Rights Watch | https://www.hrw.org/news/2015/08/10/yara-bader-syria | Human Rights Watch's Alison Des Forges Award celebrates the valor of individuals who put their lives on the line to protect the dignity and rights of others. Human Rights Watch collaborates with these courageous activists to create a world in which people live free of violence, discrimination, and oppression.
Yara Bader, a journalist and human rights activist, works to expose the detention and torture of journalists, bloggers, aid workers, and human rights activists—including her husband, the prominent activist Mazen Darwish—in war-torn Syria.
Since Syria exploded into conflict four years ago, Bader has experienced first-hand how its security and intelligence agencies brutally crack down on independent voices. In 2012, security forces raided the offices of the Syrian Centre for Media and Freedom of Expression (SCM) and detained Bader and Darwish, its director, as well as 14 other staff members, on charges of disseminating prohibited information. Bader was released but Darwish remains in jail, where he has reportedly been severely tortured.
As acting director of SCM, Bader speaks out on behalf of her husband and so many others who are paying a horrific price for exposing the truth about the Syrian government’s intolerance of dissent, and promotes the work of journalists and defenders of those freedoms. With the international media’s access severely limited and observer missions barred from working in the country, Bader’s work is vital to ensuring that the world does not forget the hundreds of human rights activists, journalists, bloggers, and other independent voices who have been jailed and tortured in their fight for free expression and association.
Human Rights Watch honors Yara Bader as the representative of the Syrian Centre for Media and Freedom of Expression, as well as its detained founder Mazen Darwish, for their tremendous courage and perseverance in speaking out on behalf of Syrian detainees despite grave risks to their safety. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 33 | https://75podcasts.org/episode/1/91/ | en | S1E5: The House of Assad | [
"https://75podcasts.org/images/logo1.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/logo2.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/menu_arrow.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/logo1.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/logo2.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/lang.svg",
"https://75podcasts.org/images/share.svg",... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | <p style='margin-left:0px;'>The violence that Syrians have witnessed and suffered since 2011 did not come out of nowhere - there is a history, a background and a basis to it. And so, if we want to better understand what has happened in the country in the past 11 years, | en | https://75podcasts.org/images/favicon.ico | 75 Podcasts | https://75podcasts.org/episode/1/91 | Kristina Kaghdo: One of the things that really stayed with me until now was how in the beginning of each school year I would go to the stationery shop that was located in my street. And in all stationery shops you could find pictures of the symbol of the party, pictures of the ruling family, namely Hafez al-Assad. Because it was him in power at the time.
And we were supposed to get some of those pictures and glue them into our notebooks and on the covers of our notebooks, namely the Civic Education Notebook. And the Civic Education's a whole different story because it was one hour, 2 hours a week that were dedicated to learning about the power and beauty and how great and amazing the ruling party is. The ruling family, the ruling father - who was Hafez al-Assad at the time.
Fritz Streiff: Kristina Kaghdo is a translator and podcast producer, and she also presents the Arabic series of The Syria Trials. Kristina grew up in the Syrian capital, Damascus.
Kristina: And I remember that we had this teacher who would skip civic education classes. I have no idea why. We used to have something called like an inspection committee. And it's a committee that comes from the Ministry of Education to check on different schools. And I think it was one of the tools of surveillance as well, to make sure that the school looks like and sounds like and behaves like it should. So she would skip those classes, and whenever there was an inspection, she would make us sit for like a couple of days and fill in our Civic Education notebooks with whatever she was writing on the board, without going through it, without really learning it, just to make sure that then when the inspection comes, they can see our notebooks filled. Obviously, I didn't feel comfortable asking, why are we doing this? Because it was an order and we executed orders.
Fritz: It must have been a risk for her, too. I mean, you were just saying how schools were one of the clear institutional examples of where the state surveillance system could really have an impact structurally. And, you know, it's kind of like a small but potentially impactful example of civil disobedience, really.
Kristina: I totally agree, especially that we were 50 kids in class and kids talk. You know, we could just go home and say, you know what we did today? We were filling in our Civic Education notebook with stuff that we haven't learned anything about. And that would definitely be an alarming thing for many parents.
Fritz: Alarming indeed, because by the time Kristina was growing up in the 1990s, Syrians had become used to the cost of disobeying the Assad regime. So far in the series, we've mainly heard about the crimes committed in Syria since 2011 - the violent suppression of the Revolution and the devastation of the ensuing war. But this violence did not come out of nowhere. There's a history, a basis to it. Since the beginning of Assad family rule in 1970, when Hafez al-Assad, Bashar's father, seized power of Syria, the regime had been built upon one key founding principle: eliminate any opposition, any threat to the family's rule, no matter the cost. By the time 2011 came around and huge numbers of Syrians began to call for a change of regime, Bashar al-Assad followed this guiding principle to the letter. Ash-shab yurid isqat an-nizam, the protesters chanted, which means something like “the people want to bring down the regime”. To the Assad family, this was a clear and unacceptable threat to their power. And so in order to really understand the violence and the criminality that has occurred in Syria since 2011, we need to go back to the beginning and uncover how the Assads built a regime with them at the centre and how they have held onto power for over half a century. Welcome to The Syria Trials. Episode Five - The House of Assad.
Ugur Umit Ungor: My name is Ugur Ungor. I'm a sociologist and historian at the University of Amsterdam, and I'm mostly interested in the modern and contemporary history of mass violence, mostly mass violence against civilians.
Fritz: After centuries of occupation by the Ottoman Empire, the modern Syrian state emerged after the end of the First World War.
Ugur: The Ottoman Empire lost the war. So there were a number of states that emerged from it. Syria is one of them. Iraq, Jordan, are of course, others. And then Syria became part of the French mandate. And mandate is basically a fancy word for colonisation. And this is important because in this period from 1923 to 1946, it wasn't Syrians who decided their own fate. If we want to understand some of the practices of the Assad regime later in 1970s, 1980s and up to now, the roots of some of that violence, of course, they stretch back into the Ottoman Empire, but a lot of that violence escalated during the French colonisation of Syria. And then after independence, 1946, Syria saw almost a dozen coup d'états in a period of not longer than maybe a decade, decade and a half. So that political instability also deeply destabilised the society. And then, of course, in the 1960s, the Ba’ath Party seized power. And then in 1970, we have Hafez coup d'état.
Fritz: Hafez al-Assad was amongst a group of Ba’ath supporters in the Syrian army who seized control of Syria in 1963, before seizing power himself in 1970. Hafez was elected President in 1971, the only candidate in the running.
Rime Allaf: Hafez Assad, who was an Air Force officer and a Minister of Defence, took power with a group of his army and Air Force buddies. And, you know, we never got rid of the Assad dynasty. It's been now 52 years, so we've entered the second half century of Assad's rule and they have merely managed to entrench themselves.
My name is Rime Allaf. I'm a Syrian born writer and researcher who's been working on Syria for the greater part of the last 25 years. I would say.
Ugur: What defines really the state and the regime in Syria is the way that it uses violence and the threat of violence against its own citizens as a pillar of its governance, of its functioning.
Rime: Hafez Assad was at the beginning what one might call a benign dictator or so people hoped, because they were a little bit tired of the coups and the counter coups. And he tried to show himself as somebody who was listening to his people at the very beginning. So that's in the early seventies. But very quickly, things disintegrated.
Fritz: After Hafez took power, any other political parties had to come under the umbrella of the National Progressive Front, a political alliance headed by his party, the ruling Ba’ath Party. It was a dangerous game to be politically active outside of this alliance.
Faraj Bayrakdar VO: My name is Faraj Bayrakdar. If arrest and exile were occupations, that means that I have worked for 14 years as a detainee and 17 years as an exile. I hold a university degree in Arabic literature. But I did not have the chance to ever use the certificate. As for poetry, I do not consider it a job, but a hobby.
Fritz: Faraj is a Syrian journalist and award winning poet. He was a young adult in 1970 when Hafez al-Assad became the president of Syria.
Faraj VO: The regime started displaying the maximum possible brutality. Even though I knew I was just a poet, I could not morally and purposefully ignore this anymore. My friends were being killed or they were being locked up in a prison left and right until God knows when. I knew that poetry on its own could not create any change. Collective work had to be done. And so I found myself involved in the Communist Labour Party.
Fritz: The Communist Labour Party operated basically illegally outside of the National Progressive Front Alliance.
Faraj VO: You do not get a whirlwind in a clear sky. There must be a reason for it. Under Hafez al Assad, killing and massacres became normal. Well, not normal, but not a big deal. Assad's predecessors were bad. And he stopped down to the level and to an even lower one with his repression. It turned from bad to worse until he got to the point where he was ready to massacre anyone to protect his throne.
Fritz: Just how far the Assad regime was willing to go to hold on to power. Became shockingly clear in 1982.
Rime: There was a kind of insurrection, you know, a kind of defiance of the Assad regime with the only real political force that was fortifying and making itself visible on the Syrian scene. And that was the Muslim Brotherhood. And that ended in the terrible massacre in Hama in 1982, when Hafez Assad sent his brother, Rifaat Assad, who was the head of the Fourth Division, the army at the time. They entered the old part of Hama. They went from house to house. They took out many leaders of the Muslim Brothers. 30,000 people, if we take that as the most accurate number of people killed, there were not 30,000 Muslim brothers. There were civilians, there were women, there were children. There were doctors and teachers and professors. And the artillery bombed its way through Hama. The city was demolished. It was raised and rebuilt. Syrians understood the message very well. Any defiance of the regime would be brutally, violently repressed. That was the Assad regime's sign to the people. You stay quiet, you show us docility and we will not bother you. But if you even dream that any other system is even allowed, you are wrong.
Kristina: It's a very interesting case to talk about because what happened in Hama stayed with people for generations. After the Revolution started, I realised that a lot of people went onto the streets because they felt like they didn't want to be those bystanders that their parents were during the massacre in Hama. They felt like they wanted to be on the right side of history. And I found it truly amazing because people from very different backgrounds have been mentioning this as one of the motivations to actually go on the streets. It felt like there's this deep sense of guilt that they wanted to wash.
Fritz: Hearing this from you now only makes it more concrete to me, why it's such an incredibly, you know, really dumb failure of justice. The justice system in this case of the French, to let go of Rifaat al-Assad, the uncle of the current President who was in charge at the time of the Army operation against Hama. And who was in Paris and had multiple cases against him, but one criminal case. And was able to flee the country, was able to return to Syria and is now out of the reach of the French justice system. And there was also a case pending in Switzerland against him. Still is. And the likelihood that that will lead to actual justice is now extremely low. While when he was still in Paris, it could have been done. I think it's an example of how a significance of a certain case can be so underestimated by international legal systems that don't have a good grip on the cultural context of the case.
Rime: Hafez Assad depended on his family and Rifaat Assad himself was very enamoured with, you know, being in a position of power. And in fact, that's what led to his downfall. Because when Hafez Assad became quite ill in the mid-eighties, Rifaat Assad attempted to take power. And that did not succeed. And they made a deal that he said, okay, you know, you leave Syria immediately.
Fritz: Which is how Rifaat happened to be in France in the first place, within the reaches of the French justice system.
Ugur: If we take a look at the structure of the regime, of the Assad regime since 1970, and we focus only on people with the last name Assad, then there are a significant number of people who are in very influential positions. Starting, of course, with Hafez Assad, who appointed his own brother, Rifaat Assad as Head of the Praetorian Guard, head of the Defence Brigades in the 1970s. That's not nothing. And in many other societies you wouldn't be able to do that. You know, you can't appoint a first degree family member to a highly influential military or paramilitary position. But he could and he did. And that, of course, then led to the kind of the growth or the development of the power of the family inside the, especially the security forces, the intelligence agencies, the army, the elite troops. This is where the Assad family built their power base, including, of course, the in-laws. So Assad's mother is from the Makhlouf family. The Makhlouf family, too, was and remains in Syria, a deeply influential family. There is a disproportionate number of people from these two families, from Assad and Makhlouf that are in exceptionally sensitive and powerful positions. And that was the case since the 1970s.
Rime: You know, the Assads have often been described as a family in power. But I think that is a little bit too simplistic, to put it that way, because it became much more than a family. So you can describe it as clan, as a clique, and there were others, and they happened to be people that Hafez Assad trusted. They happen to be part of the Alawite community, it’s a small community in Syria. But Hafez Assad did build a lot of the army and the intelligence, the officers came from there. It really is a pyramid of power. You had the Ba’ath indoctrinating young Syrians from school onwards and young Syrians learned very quickly that if you wanted to be part of anything and have any of the fringe benefits of being openly loyal to the regime, well, you know, you became an active member of the Ba’ath Party.
Fritz: The Assads knew that in order to maintain their rule, they could not only rely on indoctrination and placing family members and trusted allies in top positions. Anyone could turn on you as Rifaat’s bid for power had shown Hafez. More pillars of power were needed to keep the Assad regime standing. And so, as with many authoritarian regimes, the intelligence system came to play a key role in Syria. The Syrian intelligence system is more commonly referred to by its shorthand the mukhabarat. The mukhabarat held and holds its tentacles tight around Syrian society.
Rime: Of course, the intelligence branches, their main role was to terrify the population. The fear of any Syrian. You know, when you hear the word “al amen”, which is the security, you're terrified and you begin to rethink, you know, everything you've done and said and, you know, did you make a faux pas and did you dare to provoke anyone?
Ugur: There are four major intelligence agencies, Military Intelligence, Air Force Intelligence, Political Security and the State Security, in order of influence. And the Branch, in Syrian Arabic, the “fera”, is generally a grim grey building in the middle of the city where everybody walks around and nobody even dares to look at. It is a building that often is a couple of stories above ground, for the administration staff who work there. Sometimes the archives of the Branch. And then under the ground very often three or four or five stories under the ground, there are the cells. In the cells, that's exactly where they keep individuals that they have arrested. And very often, the torture chamber also is under the ground. So these four agencies - sometimes do work together, but sometimes they also compete - they are like a vacuum cleaner. So the way that they go into Syrian society and extract people from that society on whatever grounds. Maybe you posted something on Facebook against the regime. Maybe you wanted to set up a political party, basically any, or maybe it’s a completely random reason, maybe you didn't do anything. As soon as that happens, the intelligence agencies, they extract you from society. They take you to the Branch. They torture you there. You stay there sometimes a couple of days, sometimes weeks, sometimes months. And then after that, you are either released or you are processed and sent to the next phase, which is often ending up in the second dimension of the gulag, which is one of the three major prison camps.
Fritz: In 1976, Faraj Bayrakdar was spending some time back home in Syria after studying in Budapest on a scholarship from the Syrian Ministry of Higher Education.
Faraj VO: During that time, Syria invaded Lebanon and my stance was clear and public. I was against the Syrian invasion. They took their revenge on me by cancelling my scholarship and dragging me into the military. During my first referendum in the military in 1978 I said no to Hafez al Assad and so I was arrested by the Air Force Intelligence Directorate. I was completely cut off from everything for four and a half months and then eventually I was released. Because they could not pinpoint anything on me, they let me go. But then on my second day of freedom, I was arrested again by the internal branch of the State Security Intelligence. I was not for a long time, though. My third arrest occurred later by the Military Intelligence Directorate. This was my longest arrest. I was locked up for 14 continuous years. For the first six and a half years, I was completely isolated from the outside world. I was not allowed any visitors, and my family did not know anything about me or who I was with.
Fritz: Faraj continued to compose poetry throughout his detention, using any tools available. After an international campaign on his behalf, he was finally released from prison in 2000, during a brief period of political respite known as the Damascus Spring.
Ugur: In Syria imprisonment by the mukhabarat, and a journey through the prison system is what people fear the most. It spreads fear and spreads terror. It spreads trauma for those people who have suffered the violence in the prisons, who were tortured and released. But even people who haven't, you know, also people who, for example, have nothing to fear, even ifvthey also think, they know that this country has in every city a couple of these intelligence branches. They know that people are under the ground and being tortured, and they know that they will have to behave in a way that will avoid them landing in one of these torture chambers. So the regime and its prison system are like a finger and a nail. They're so grown and they've kind of welded together that it's going to be very difficult to extricate these two.
Kristina: In Syria, we had the saying that “Elhitan laha athan” that “walls have ears”. And I've been brought up with this notion. And it was something that was just implicit that whatever you hear at home, you can never, ever repeat it outside. Do not dare, because it's dangerous. What I remember thinking back then is that but well, it means that people are not safe, that the world is not a safe place to be. And obviously, it created a lot of problematic connections with trust and perceiving others and perceiving myself with others. And until now, I'm working on, you know, this capacity to trust the world, that the world can bring a lot of good things and that not every person has some evil plan to destroy you. And obviously I'm exaggerating now a little bit, but it's just to show that the impact of such very tiny things, like small expressions that keep being repeated to you day after day, year after year, how much they really shape you from within as a human being within a society.
Fritz: I would be interested to hear from you having first grown up under Assad senior, Hafez, and then growing into the age where his son Bashar Assad took over. Do you remember that time when that happened?
Kristina: I remember the day when Hafez al-Assad died. Maybe an important contextual information is that Hafez used to be called the eternal or the “khaled” . So obviously what that means is that he's going to be there forever. That's what a child understands, and that's what it was in my head. When Hafez al Assad died, I was visiting my mother's family in Lithuania, and I remember they had this very big TV and I was standing in front of it hearing the news that Hafez al Assad, the President of Syria, died. And I remember thinking that this is the end of the world now, because what will happen to the country? I mean, he was supposed to be there forever. Okay. Now he's not going to be there anymore. And I remember spending that summer away and then coming back to Syria. And I could hear a lot of adults in my surroundings talking about the fact that Bashar al Assad is coming into power and that he was different, that he was young, that he was educated. You know, these very cliché things that were said about and still are said about Bashar al Assad.
Rime: I was there the day Hafez Assad died. I was there when Bashar Assad came to power. I knew, like most Syrians, that there was no other option than Bashar Assad. The original heir was Bassel Assad, who was, you know, the eldest son of Hafez Assad and who everyone understood was being groomed for power. He was killed in a car crash in January 1994. And Bashar Assad, who nobody ever had thought about, was beginning his studies in the UK and was brought back. So we all understood by seeing Bashar Assad being suddenly promoted to very high ranks in the army and suddenly becoming active and appearing in the media and only in the Syrian media, of course - we all understood that, you know, this was going to be the future leader.
Rime: At the beginning, in the first few months of Bashar Assad's reign, and I always call it reign. There was a lot of positivity for a lot of Syrians, not from me, but from a lot of Syrians who dared to hope against hope that, you know, finally this was our time. Syrians finally were going to live a better life. Nobody imagined that it was going to be like living in Switzerland or, you know, or the EU or the U.S.. No, everybody was you know, we know how things work. But they hope that it would be like a different Arab country where they also had dictatorships, but where daily life was easy. This was the hope that Syrians had with Bashar Assad. And very quickly, it became clear that even that was absolutely not to be even imagined for most of them.
Bashar Assad from very early on, it was clear that he had a very, very huge ego. Not that Hafez Assad was by any means somebody who was modest. But Hafez Assad, you know, ruled the old way. Bashar Assad wanted to be everything at the same time, he wanted to be the modern, cool guy with a, you know, educated Western wife. He was young, like, you know, a number of the new young rulers in the region. And he wanted to be admired.
Fritz: From Sam Dagher’s book “Assad or We Burn the Country”.
VO: Bashar craved the rewards of engagement with the West, but also fully embraced Iran, Hezbollah and the so-called axis of resistance against the West. He was the moderate Muslim and protector of Christians and minorities, but also the one who mobilised Islamist extremists when it suited him and his regime. He urged the mukhabarat to be less intrusive, but also expected them to crush any hint of threat to his power. He wanted to be seen as legitimately elected and a non-sectarian president for all Syrians, but accepted the reality that his survival depended on his clan and sect. Core elements of the system bequeathed to him by Hafez.
Fritz: And then came 2011. With the violent suppression of the peaceful Revolution and the ensuing war in Syria, Bashar reused his father's playbook with its central tenant: you do anything to hold onto power.
Bashar archive clip
Rime: You know that the expression “Assad or we burn the country” was created by the loyalists from the beginning. In Arabic it’s “Al Assad aw nahrek al balad”. That was reminding them that you know that we will do anything and the country be damned. We will burn the country in order to keep Assad. Well, in the end it was Assad and we burn the country.
Kristina: Often, especially in the first two years of the revolution, I would not be able to sleep at night thinking, what is Bashar thinking at the moment? What does he do in his day to day life? How does he wake up and decide that today I'm going to kill people who are saying no to me, who dare to have an idea of a different society and a different country, that doesn't include me in the picture. What does that mean? Because often we think about Bashar and all the people in power as very distant creatures, as if they were not human beings. But they are human beings with their fears and their will to prove things. One of my theories is that, you know, Bashar has been trying to prove to his mother that he's worthy of power, just like his father was. It might be as simple as that, but it was always considered the least powerful or the least potentially powerful member of the family. And, you know, one day he has power. And then there is his mother who's saying, you know, you need to be a man, man up, you know, live up to the responsibility that your father has left you with. It might be as simple as that, but of course, with a lot and a lot of other layers, I think these are really important questions to ask if you really want to understand the nature of violence that has been happening in the country.
Fritz: You know, one of the family layers that definitely we know now played a huge role next to Bashar’s mother is his brother Maher, who as maybe the most important figure in the army, has played a huge role in actually executing a lot of the violence. Right. So that maybe also enabled Bashar to at least sort of keep up this face of the more civil, the more emotional, the more sensitive face of this criminal regime. So if we talk about violence as important factors of how this regime has been able to stay in power. Another one that we definitely shouldn't forget is the response or lack of response to incredibly violent actions such as the chemical attacks of 21st of August 2013 on the suburbs of Damascus. That kind of attack will 100% come from the absolute highest top of the hierarchy of responsibility. Something like that will not be decided by a low level commander, except in the unlikely, very unlikely event that it was an accident, which the evidence does not point to at all. So that was a decision made to execute this attack. I think, at that moment, Bashar al-Assad and his inner circle realised that they can go really far with the violence that they were ready to employ in order to stay in power. We're now in 2022 and the methods have worked. The regime is in power. Not going anywhere.
Kristina: I really think that all these years of Assad's rule were basically a constant struggle between the people of Syria, to whom this land belongs, and one family. And it's crazy when you look at it in that very simplistic way, like it's a whole people versus a family.
Faraj VO: The responsibility for mine and everyone else's arrest lies with no one other than the Assad regime. Its prison system was not well known during our time. Some people even questioned our opposition. No one does now. Assad's dirty laundry is out in the open.
Fritz: One of the, I think, main reasons why so many people that we work with that we've we've heard from also, the absolute top priority and overarching goal of this whole effort for justice and accountability for Syria is to have Bashar al Assad and the inner circle on trial. That's the ultimate goal.
Rime: I think most Syrians, even though they do not dare to say it anymore, know that there can be no justice as long as the perpetrators of these crimes against humanity remain in power and remain free because it just teaches everybody else, even if we were to turn a blind eye to that, I think it just teaches everybody else that you take the expression in the literal form that you know you can get away with murder.
Faraj VO: The regime is ultimately a hellish machine that crushes everyone in its way. I believe it will crush the largest head as well. The same hellish machine will crush Bashar al Assad. But for now, it seems it will happen later rather than sooner.
Fritz: It is theoretically possible that at some point Bashar's own regime could turn on him and arrest him. They could then either put him on trial in Syria or extradite him to stand trial at the ICC or at a specialised tribunal for Syria. Although neither of these are options at the moment. It could happen, but for now, the more likely scenario is that Bashar will stay in power and as a serving head of state, he enjoys immunity from national prosecution, which means another country's legal system cannot prosecute him in their courts. Even if he may be holding onto his presidency through illegal means, even if his regime is a dictatorship, as long as he is the president of Syria, Bashar al Assad is pretty much untouchable. But despite the complications to hold the highest ranking regime members accountable, those working in the justice and accountability space are trying to get as close to the top as possible. One example is the chemical weapons case we heard about last episode. Other examples are the arrest warrants against Jamil Hassan and Ali Mamlouk, the former head of the Air Force Intelligence Directorate and the former head of the National Security Bureau. And then there is an interesting case that barrister Toby Cadman is working on against Asma al Assad, Bashar's wife.
Asma al Assad Archive clip
Toby Cadman: It came out as a result of trying to identify ways in which accountability can be pursued. One of the areas that we looked at was those individuals that were either encouraging, inciting or glorifying acts of atrocity crimes. And so we started to look at the role of the first lady, Asma Assad, as a British national. She was born in the United Kingdom. Her parents live there, in West London. That's where she met Bashar. And she's a dual British-Syrian national. I don't want to see her stripped of her citizenship. I want her to go to prison for the rest of her life for crimes that we say that she has committed.
Asma al Assad Archive Clip
Toby: What we had argued is what's called conventional offences. So chemical weapons is a particular category of convention offences and it's all to do with encouragement, incitement into those acts. So we started to look into conduct that she had been involved with as a result of being the First Lady, where she had met members of the military who had subsequently carried out chemical weapons attacks and where there had been statements of glorification as to the military's conduct in carrying out bombardment and, again, chemical weapons attacks. So these are all matters that are within the jurisdiction of English law. The finding was made last year, 2021. Additional evidence has been provided and we continue to investigate. The challenge is going to be if the Crown Prosecution Service that has jurisdiction to prosecute, if they consider that there's a sufficient evidential basis to prosecute, of course we need to get her before an English court. And, you know, I'm aware of the challenges of that, but I'm also confident and hopeful that one day there'll be a Syria without Bashar and Asma Assad at the helm. And they may leave the country at some point. And then they will be arrested, and hopefully brought before an English court.
Fritz: Despite the stories and the evidence, the cases and the trials, the Assad regime is not only still in power in Syria, it almost appears to be making a slow return to international politics. Paul Conroy is a war photographer who was in Homs with his colleague, the war correspondent Marie Colvin in 2012. The makeshift media centre they were staying in was attacked by the regime, killing Marie and others, although the regime denies it was involved. This is from a testimony Paul gave this year in 2022 at the People's Tribunal for the Murder of Journalists.
Paul Conroy archive: There's this creeping rehabilitation of this murderous regime back into the international community as if, you know collective amnesia is coming over the world and we're going, Oh, well, maybe they're not so bad. You know, maybe we could do business. Damn right he’s bad. They are murderous animals and they should not be rehabilitated by anybody into any international bodies organisations. They should be where they belong with the Russians as outcasts and pariahs until they stop the killing and they acknowledge the killing. And there's justice for the people who were killed. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 86 | https://whyy.org/articles/essay-alia-malek-challenges-us-to-reimagine-syrian-american/ | en | Alia Malek challenges us to reimagine Syrian | [
"https://whyy.org/wp-content/uploads/91FM/schedulelogos/bbc_worldservice.jpg",
"https://whyy.org/wp-content/uploads/91FM/schedulelogos/morningedition.jpg",
"https://whyy.org/wp-content/uploads/2017/08s/syria_1200x675.jpg",
"https://whyy.org/wp-content/themes/whyy/images/loaders/placeholder.gif",
"https://wh... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Chris Lombardi"
] | 2017-06-24T17:00:00+00:00 | News about Syria stresses geopolitics, so it takes some effort to find an article remidning us that Syria is an actual country with people living there, and dying there. | en | https://whyy.org/wp-content/themes/whyy/images/icons/favicon-rebrand.ico | WHYY | https://whyy.org/articles/essay-alia-malek-challenges-us-to-reimagine-syrian-american/ | To many Americans, the word “Syria” brings to mind horrific images: faces blistered by chemical warfare, destroyed neighborhoods, that refugee boy on the beach beside his empty sneaker. The country’s name becomes a political buzzword, a fractured map argued over by politicians.
The news of the day stresses geopolitics or the effect on the United States, so it takes some effort to find an article mentioning that Syria is an actual country with people living there, and dying there. It takes a little more effort to find stories that quote actual Syrians — like this one, in which two doctors plead for the world not to forget their country.
How can we remember if we have no idea what that country is — or was — beyond the desert and camel clichés of “Lawrence of Arabia”? What if we’re wrong about the deserts, too?
It helps to read the work of a whip-smart lawyer I know, a Syrian-American journalist whose ideas about Syria are as compelling as her stories about her parents’ home country. Her new book, “The Home That Was Our Country: A Memoir of Syria,” feels like it was written in response to that question.
I knew Alia Malek was a star when we met a dozen years ago, as classmates at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism. A civil rights lawyer who’d quit George W. Bush’s Justice Department, she’d already lived and worked in Italy and Lebanon and was just starting her first book, “A Country Called Amreeka: Arab Roots, American Stories.”
By the time “Amreeka” was published, I had moved to Philadelphia, and our paths had diverged: I cheered Malek long-distance as she was hired as a reporter at Al-Jazeera America and published a dizzying succession of new books, including a graphic novel. I only knew third-hand that she’d gone to her family’s homeland during the 2011 Arab Spring.
The resulting book is much more than a family memoir; it’s a needed corrective to the flattening of our perceptions of Syria. When my copy arrived in April, I’d meant to read it slowly, but I could barely put it down.
Malek begins by narrating the country’s birth, first through the story of her larger-than-life great-grandfather, Abdeljawaad, and his wife, Marta, who once tore down the gates of the family’s compound and built ovens to feed the poor. Malek makes abstract-seeming personas tangible, even the founder of Ba’ath and rival Islamic and secular factions. Syria as a multicultural, not-quite-Arab entity with equal roots in the Levant, now feels like a fairy tale — until Malek makes it real and heartrending.
In those opening chapters, history I’d thought I knew was reframed and colored by these characters — especially their daughter Salma, who moved to the country’s capital and into that apartment block where Malek lived in 2012. The book’s pace quickens with Malek’s first visit to Syria in 1992, and reels you into its novelistic narrative.
Last month, I caught up with Malek just as “Home” went into its third printing. I asked her if this book had been in her mind when she moved to Syria in 2011.
“I had long fantasized of writing a book on Syria and focusing on my grandmother,” she said. “There was never a market, though. Until the country fell apart … ironically but not surprisingly.”
She was encouraged to move to Syria by her close friend Anthony Shadid, a New York Times reporter who’d also written about his family’s Lebanese home in “House of Stone.” By the time Shadid’s book came out, he had died suddenly in 2012 while attempting to leave Syria, and Malek was in Damascus. Before his death, Shadid had suggested she make Salma’s home her way into the story.
When Malek moved to Damascus in 2011, she also had a practical project: To renovate the part of Salma’s apartment block that had always been meant for her family. She could interview long-lost relatives and ask them about Salma, the grandmother she’d lost to a stroke 20 years earlier.
While they were mostly glad to talk to her, her relatives and neighbors warned her that that the government of Bashar al-Assad was watching her. They worried as she reported and wrote (without a byline) about what that government was doing, knowing that Malek’s legal training and skill with language could be seen by Assad as a threat.
Those same qualities, Malek agreed, were crucial in reporting and writing Salma’s and Syria’s story. Speaking the subject’s language, even in their dialect, shed said is “so important. I could move around in the building, talk to different people” without a translator in tow. “You can just exist.”
But the legal training was essential, too, she added, in understanding what she was hearing.”Law school gives you a kind of rigor. You become skeptical and unwilling to accept pat answers.” That proved as useful with the contractors working on her house as it did in understanding how Syria was beginning to crack open.
The latter half of “Home” chronicles what Malek saw as Assad began to crack down on resistance in Syria, including the civil-society groups that had sprouted during the Arab Spring. She writes about activists who brave Assad’s jails again and again. This excerpt published in Teen Vogue describes one group whose only offense is carrying carnations and wearing a sash that reads “Stop the killing!”
“The regime sees civil society as the enemy,” Malek told me. “It lives on moral murkiness. And those groups challenge the story they’re telling the world, that only violent islamic terrorists oppose their system.”
She also travels to Salma’s hometown, Hama — first as a happy if parochial place, then in 1982 as a site of massacre, when Hafez al-Assad’s forces kill thousands after nonviolent protests. Malek introduces that phase of Syrian history with characteristic poetry: “A year and a half after Salma’s stroke shattered her, Hafez al-Assad broke her native Hama.” Malek’s family story deepens that of international events: When Assad splinters Hama, we can almost hear windows breaking.
Her more contemporary visit occurs when she travels there to attend a cousin’s wedding, 20 years later and a year after after Assad sent troops to quell the 2011 protests.
When Malek ventures to the now-destroyed Aleppo, she has already described for us the lovely, multicultural city she loved when she visited in 2002. I told her that her descriptions make me miss the Syria I will now never know, from “Aleppo’s great restaurants” (a phrase I never thought I’d read) to a once more multi-religious Damascus. She renders just as vividly the losses that preceded her story. The loss of Damascus’ once-thriving Jewish Quarter brought me to tears.
And I thanked her for debunking “Lawrence of Arabia,” a movie I first saw, like her, in Baltimore’s Senator Theater in 1989. Her rigorous analysis tackles against the story of Syria told most famously in that film, of plucky Arabs fighting imperial overlords.
“For so long, I didnt realize that version wasn’t true!” Malek told me. That story hadn’t comported with her own sense of her family history. The more she read, she saw Syria less in Arab terms and more as part of the the eastern-Mediterranean region known as the Levant.
“The standard history, permanently being taught, is this narrative that positions Syria in the Arab world,” Malek said, her voice rising in frustration. “I’m ok with ambiguity, but there’s a more honest way of describing how it happened.” Syrians have the right to have a choice! We can ask, ‘Are our interests the same as Saudi Arabia’s?'”
Malek interviewed several historians, many of whose works are published in English and French but not Arabic, and whose work challenges the “pan-Arab” narrative. “A lot of people think that history is true,” she told me. “We had all fallen in line with that narrative. But that historical period has been reread by historians, affirming that Syria was much more a part of Anatolia, the Levant.” Westerners, Malek added, too often take up the pan-Arab narrative and reduce it to religion, forgetting the diverse countries hidden behind that veil. Such stereotyping becomes a fatal error, she said, now that hundreds of thousands of Syrian refugees are seen by so many as alien.
After she left Syria in 2013, Malek began writing about the country’s refugees, too, reporting from Armenia and from refugee centers in Germany. The book’s epilogue takes place in Frankfurt, where Malek talks with some members of a family she knew at the Tahaan. They’ve made the perilous journey and ended up as refugees in a country where, as one tells her, “No matter what I do, I will always be a stranger ….” Malek’s narrative can help us see Syrians more wholly, and lessen that estrangement just a little.
I asked Malek if her publisher had thought of sending copies to every member of Congress. She laughed, but I was semi-serious. I also felt honored to know someone who had written such an important work, one that turns history sideways and challenges all of us to enter. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 3 | 5 | https://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/mar/18/putin-honours-syria-veterans-wider-russian-involvement | en | Putin’s honouring of Syria veterans suggests wider involvement | [
"https://sb.scorecardresearch.com/p?c1=2&c2=6035250&cv=2.0&cj=1&cs_ucfr=0&comscorekw=Russia%2CVladimir+Putin%2CSyria%2CEurope%2CMiddle+East+and+north+Africa%2CWorld+news",
"https://i.guim.co.uk/img/media/331d47105b6091e4e49d763a8793a14ef00e8110/0_0_3972_2384/master/3972.jpg?width=465&dpr=1&s=none",
"https://i.g... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Alec Luhn",
"www.theguardian.com",
"alec-luhn"
] | 2016-03-18T00:00:00 | Tank and artillery commanders decorated in Moscow despite Kremlin previously insisting only air force took part in fighting<br> | en | the Guardian | https://www.theguardian.com/world/2016/mar/18/putin-honours-syria-veterans-wider-russian-involvement | Vladimir Putin has awarded medals to tank and artillery commanders at a ceremony for soldiers who fought in Syria, apparently contradicting the Kremlin’s previous insistence that only its air force was in combat there.
At a ceremony to honour veterans of the Syria campaign in the Kremlin on Thursday, the Russian president awarded the order of St George in the fourth degree to Maj Gen Yury Yarovitsky, deputy commander of the 1st tank army of the western military district, Kommersant newspaper reported.
Participants told the Kommersant journalist Andrei Kolesnikov, a Putin biographer known for his access to the president, that at least five Russian tanks were in Syria and were operated by Russian crews. According to a list of Syria awards published by the state news agency Tass, Putin also decorated the deputy commander of the 120th artillery brigade’s howitzer battalion.
The Kremlin has previously said that only its air units were fighting in Syria, although other weapons systems had been deployed there to protect its air and naval bases. It has also said Russian ground equipment was sold to the Bashar al-Assad regime through existing arms contracts.
Activists have published photographic and video evidence suggesting Russian armour was fighting alongside Assad’s forces, including tanks and Msta-B howitzers. The Moscow-based Conflict Intelligence Team, which has studied Russian troops’ clandestine operations in eastern Ukraine and Syria, reported that maps presented by the defence ministry at a November briefing showed the 120th artillery brigade deployed near Homs, which is far from Russia’s Latakia airbase.
“There wasn’t any infantry charging with rifles, but there was support by [Russian] equipment, howitzers, tanks and maybe infantry fighting vehicles,” Ruslan Leviev of the CIT said.
In a surprise announcement on Monday, Putin said he was pulling most of Russia’s forces out of Syria as their mission had been completed. At the awards ceremony in the Kremlin, he said the number of military flights in Syria had decreased from 60-80 to 20-30 a day and the task force there had become “loss-making” since a ceasefire came into effect earlier this month.
Moscow has from the beginning insisted it was targeting Islamic terrorists in Syria, while western media and governments have said the majority of its airstrikes were carried out against moderate rebels fighting Assad’s forces.
Speaking on the sidelines of a defence ministry briefing on the Syria ceasefire on Friday, spokesman Igor Konashenkov called reports that Russia had mounted a ground operation in Syria “total stupidity”. He said Yarovitsky had served in Syria as a military advisor, teaching Syrian crews how to operate Russian-made equipment.
“Our men were there as advisers … our tanks were not. But the Syrians have a lot of tanks,” he said.
Konashenkov confirmed that five Russian soldiers had died in Syria during the Russian campaign, but declined to comment on Islamic State’s claim that another five soldiers had been killed near Palmyra in recent days. | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 84 | https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/09/20/how-a-syrian-war-criminal-and-double-agent-disappeared-in-europe | en | How a Syrian War Criminal and Double Agent Disappeared in Europe | [
"https://www.newyorker.com/verso/static/the-new-yorker/assets/logo.svg",
"https://www.newyorker.com/verso/static/the-new-yorker/assets/logo-header.svg",
"https://media.newyorker.com/photos/613c075b8ec453e8d5b66221/master/w_2560%2Cc_limit/210920_r39012_rd.jpg",
"https://media.newyorker.com/cartoons/613c07376f4... | [] | [] | [
"criminals",
"spies",
"agents",
"syria",
"intelligence",
"disappearances",
"europe",
"wars"
] | null | [
"Ben Taub",
"Richard Brody",
"Annie Proulx",
"Vinson Cunningham",
"Condé Nast"
] | 2021-09-20T00:00:00 | In the bloody civil war, Khaled al-Halabi switched sides, Ben Taub writes. But what country does he really serve? | en | https://www.newyorker.com/verso/static/the-new-yorker/assets/favicon.ico | The New Yorker | https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2021/09/20/how-a-syrian-war-criminal-and-double-agent-disappeared-in-europe | On a September day in 1961, a thin man with a small mustache walked into a post office in Damascus to pick up a parcel addressed to Georg Fischer. Few people knew that Fischer, an ill-tempered Austrian weapons merchant, was actually the S.S. Hauptsturmführer Alois Brunner, “the erstwhile assistant of Adolf Eichmann in the annihilation of Jews,” as a classified U.S. cable put it. But among those who were aware of his identity was a Mossad operative who had infiltrated the Syrian élite. When Brunner opened the package, it exploded, killing two postal workers and blinding him in the left eye.
The Israeli spy was later caught, tortured, and executed; Brunner lived openly in Damascus for the next several decades, in the third-floor apartment of 7 Rue Haddad. “Among Third Reich criminals still alive, Alois Brunner is undoubtedly the worst,” the Nazi hunter Simon Wiesenthal wrote, in 1988. France sentenced Brunner to death in absentia. Israel tried to kill him a second time, but the bomb took only some fingers. Brunner told a German magazine that his chief regret was not having killed more Jews.
Hafez al-Assad, Syria’s dictator, ignored multiple requests for Brunner’s extradition. Brunner was useful—as an assertion of Syrian state sovereignty, a mockery of global norms and values, and an affront to Israel, Syria’s neighbor and enemy. He was, as someone in Assad’s inner circle later put it, “a card that the regime kept in its hand.”
But, in the late nineties, as Assad’s health was failing, he became devoted to the task of preparing his ruthless world for his son. After inheriting the Presidency, Bashar al-Assad would portray himself as a reformer; it might be a liability to have an avowed génocidaire in the diplomatic quarter, flanked by Syrian guards. For the next fifteen years, Nazi hunters assumed that Brunner was hidden away on Rue Haddad, perhaps even past his hundredth birthday. But no one saw him, so no one knew for sure.
Brunner and other Nazis had helped structure Syria’s intelligence services, and trained its officers in the arts of interrogation. In Syrian detention centers, their techniques are used to this day. Among the practitioners was Khaled al-Halabi, a Syrian Army officer who was assigned to the intelligence services in 2001. By his own account, he was a reluctant spy—he wanted to remain a soldier. Nevertheless, he served for the next twelve years, ascending through the ranks.
When Syria erupted in revolution, in 2011, Assad and his deputies blamed the protests on outside forces. They jailed activists who spoke to foreign news outlets, and targeted for arrest people whose phones contained songs that were “rather offensive to Mr. President.” Even internal government communications asserted that the instability in Syria was the result of “Zionist-American plots.” But Halabi understood that the crisis was real. He raised his concerns with his boss. “Ninety-five per cent of the population is against the regime,” Halabi later recalled saying. “I asked him if we should kill everyone. He couldn’t answer me.”
In the next decade, Halabi would become the unwitting successor to Brunner’s circumstances. Diplomats and spies from other governments weighed Halabi’s and Brunner’s past service and perceived utility against potential future risks—and sometimes miscalculated. The two men even traded countries. In some ways, they were nothing alike: the Austrian was a monster; the Syrian, by most accounts, is not. But each man carried out the functions of a murderous regime. And, in the end, their actions as intelligence officers came to be their only protection—and the reason they needed it.
By the end of February, 2013, Khaled al-Halabi was running out of time. For the previous five years, he had served as the chief of the General Intelligence Directorate branch in Raqqa, a vast desert province in the northeastern part of Syria, far from his wife and children. To the locals, he was an outsider with the authority to detain, torture, and kill them. But Halabi, who was a fifty-year-old brigadier general, felt insecure within Syria’s intelligence apparatus. An employee at his branch of the directorate described him as a “well-educated and decent man” who was not a strong or decisive leader. Another noted that Halabi, who belonged to a religious minority known as the Druze, was afraid of two of his subordinates who, like Assad, were Alawites. He overlooked their rampant corruption and abuses.
It was partly through this sectarian lens that Halabi seemed to make sense of his professional disappointments. He thought of himself as a “brilliant officer,” he later said, and was the only Druze in Syrian intelligence to become a regional director. But, he added, “to be frank, Raqqa is the least important region in the country. That’s why they stationed me there. It was like putting me in a closet.”
Halabi regarded the local population with sympathetic disdain. They were tribal and conservative; he was a secular man with a law degree, who drank alcohol and read Marxist literature. To the extent that he had political beliefs, they were aligned with those of some of the leftist intellectuals whom he was occasionally ordered to arrest. His wife and children refused to visit Raqqa; they stayed hundreds of miles away, in Damascus and in Suweida, the predominantly Druze city Halabi was from. In time, Halabi began an affair with a woman who worked in the environmental ministry. A nurse recalled him asking for Viagra.
His rivals exploited such transgressions. Syria’s security-intelligence apparatus comprises four parallel agencies with overlapping responsibilities, and Halabi’s counterpart in Military Intelligence, an Alawite named Jameh Jameh, had taken a particular dislike to him. “He spread rumors that I was drunk all the time, that I don’t work, that I don’t leave the office because there are young boys coming to see me,” Halabi complained. One day, after Halabi left Raqqa to visit his family in Suweida, his car was ambushed at a checkpoint. He narrowly escaped assassination, he later said, and was convinced that Jameh had ordered the hit. If Halabi’s assessment was paranoid, it wasn’t baseless; Military Intelligence was wiretapping his phone.
The people of Raqqa were overwhelmingly Sunni and rural, and had benefitted little from the government in Damascus. When the protests began, the regional governor advised his security committee that “only threats and intimidation worked.” Halabi initially tried to act as a voice of moderation. According to a defector, he told his officers not to arrest minors, and, when possible, to patrol without arms. But, in March, 2012, after security forces killed a local teen-ager, armed conflict broke out in the province. One day, Halabi gathered his section heads and told them to open fire on any gathering of more than four people. It wasn’t his decision, he said; he had received the order from his boss in Damascus, Ali Mamlouk.
As Halabi saw it, Assad’s inner circle treated Raqqa as a limb to be sacrificed in order to protect “the heart of the country.” They deployed only a thousand troops to the province, which is about the size of New Jersey. By the end of 2012, the Free Syrian Army—a constellation of rebel factions with disparate ideologies—had captured key portions of the route from Raqqa to Damascus. It joined forces with Islamist and jihadi groups in the surrounding countryside. In Halabi’s assessment, the battle was over before it began. “Anyone who thought otherwise is an imbecile,” he said.
There are five main entrances to Raqqa, and by February, 2013, the city was under threat from all of them. Four were guarded by members of the other intelligence branches. The fifth, which led to Raqqa’s eastern suburbs, was the responsibility of Halabi’s men in General Intelligence. Hundreds of police, military officers, and intelligence officers had already defected to the rebels or fled—including almost half Halabi’s subordinates. Many of them urged Halabi to join the revolution, but he stayed in his post.
On March 2nd, rebels stormed into Raqqa city through Halabi’s checkpoints, where they encountered no meaningful resistance. By lunchtime, the revolutionaries had conquered their first regional capital. Locals toppled a gold-painted statue of Hafez al-Assad in Raqqa’s main roundabout, and fighters ransacked government buildings and smashed portraits of Bashar. The corpse of Jameh’s lead interrogator was thrown off a building, then dragged through the streets. Meanwhile, Islamist brigades captured the governor’s mansion and took hostage the regional head of the Baath Party and the governor of Raqqa. By the end of the week, regime intelligence officers who hadn’t escaped to a nearby military base were prisoners, defectors, or dead. Only one senior official was unaccounted for. Khaled al-Halabi had disappeared.
More than a year passed, and Raqqa’s instant collapse served as fodder for regional conspiracy. A Lebanese newspaper published rumors that Halabi might be “lying low in Mount Lebanon.” An Iranian outlet claimed that Western powers had paid him more than a hundred thousand dollars to help jihadis bring down the regime.
One day in 2014, a Syrian dissident writer and poet named Najati Tayara got an unnerving phone call. Tayara, who was almost seventy years old and living in exile in France, had been in and out of Syrian detention several times in the past decade, for criticizing Assad’s government. Now, Tayara learned, Halabi was in Paris, and wanted to meet with him.
“I was concerned,” Tayara told me. “Before I came to France, I was in jail. And now here is an intelligence officer—he came here, he’s asking for me.”
Halabi had detained Tayara twice in the mid-two-thousands, when he was stationed in Homs, in central Syria. Tayara was part of a circle of dissidents and intellectuals who held salons in their homes. After each arrest, he sensed that Halabi had been reluctant to take him in for questioning. “He was a cultured man—very gentle and polite with me,” Tayara recalled. “He told me, ‘I am obliged to send you to Damascus for interrogation. Excuse me—I cannot refuse the order.’ ” Halabi gave Tayara his cell-phone number, and told him to call if anyone threatened or abused him in custody. “That was how al-Halabi handled people like me—human-rights advocates and public intellectuals,” Tayara told me. “But with the Islamists? Maybe he is a different man. I cannot be a witness for how he was with others.” When Halabi reached out in Paris, Tayara agreed to meet.
Halabi told Tayara that he hadn’t seen his wife or children in more than three years. After the fall of Raqqa, his eldest daughter, who had been studying in Damascus, was forced out of school and briefly detained. In Suweida, her mother and siblings were under constant surveillance by the regime. Halabi had never publicly defected to the opposition. But, Tayara recalled, “he told me that he left Syria because he made contact with the Free Syrian Army—that he gave them the keys to Raqqa.”
According to members of the invading force, negotiations had begun weeks in advance. “To insure that he wasn’t manipulating us, we asked him to do things in the city that made it easier for protesters and revolutionaries,” a rebel-affiliated activist recalled, in a recent phone call from Raqqa. “I was wanted by his security branch, but he shelved the arrest warrant, so that I could move freely.”
A few days before the attack, a commander from a powerful Islamist brigade reached out to Halabi. He promised to arrange Halabi’s escape, and to spare the lives of his subordinates, if the rebels could enter Raqqa from the city’s eastern suburbs. On the eve of the attack, armed rebels smuggled Halabi to Tabqa, a town by the Euphrates Dam. They handed him off to another brigade, which took him to a safe house near the Turkish border, owned by a local tribal leader, Abdul Hamid al-Nasser. “Some of the Free Syrian Army members wanted to arrest him, but, since my father was a revered local figure, no one could do anything,” Nasser’s son Mohammed recalled. The next morning, Nasser drove Halabi to the Turkish border. He crossed on foot, while officers from the other intelligence branches were slaughtered at their posts.
The Turkish border areas were filled with refugees, jihadi recruits, and spies. Halabi remained in touch with the Islamist commander, but he was never at ease in Turkey. Through intermediaries, he contacted Walid Joumblatt, a Lebanese politician and former warlord who is the de-facto leader of the Druze community. In the nineteenth century, Joumblatt’s great-great-great-grandfather Bashir led an exodus of persecuted Druze, including Halabi’s ancestors, out of Aleppo Province. (The Arabic name for Aleppo is Halab.) Now Halabi asked if he could seek refuge in Lebanon. But Joumblatt relayed that Halabi would never get there—that Hezbollah, which had sent fighters into Syria to support the regime, had a controlling presence at the Beirut airport. Instead, Halabi later recalled, “he advised me to go to Jordan.”
The journey was impossible by land. So, in May, 2013, Joumblatt sent an emissary to Istanbul, who escorted Halabi onto a plane. Halabi had no passport—only a Syrian military I.D. But, in Amman, Jordan’s capital, Joumblatt’s contacts escorted Halabi through immigration. “It was Walid Joumblatt who coördinated everything with the Turks and the Jordanians,” Halabi later said. “I do not know how he did it.”
Joumblatt’s men arranged for Halabi to meet with other Druze officers, Syrian defectors, and Jordanian intelligence, to support the revolution. (Joumblatt’s father was assassinated in 1977, and he has always believed that Hafez al-Assad ordered the hit.) But most of the Druze came to suspect that Halabi was still working for the regime. “We discovered that he had played a very nasty role in Raqqa,” Joumblatt told me. “We think he did his best to show the regime the weaknesses of the Raqqa resistance,” and flipped only in the final moments, to save his own skin. Joumblatt and his followers severed all contact with Halabi. “And now I don’t know where he is,” Joumblatt said.
Later in 2013, having been turned away by his fellow-Druze, Halabi walked into the French Embassy in Amman. He presented himself as a reluctant intelligence chief whose political and cultural tastes aligned with those of the French. “I like alcohol and secularism,” he later said. “France. Food. Napoleon.” He added that since the beginning of the Syrian war he had been “convinced that this regime will not last—that anyone who talks about longevity is a moron.” By this point, even the top general responsible for preventing defections had himself defected. After decades of service to the regime, “I decided not to tie my fate to it,” Halabi said.
The French government had spent more than a year debriefing high-ranking Syrian military and intelligence defectors—partly in anticipation of Assad’s losing the war, partly to facilitate that outcome. A hundred years ago, France occupied Syria and Lebanon, as part of a post-Ottoman mandate. Now it set out to make deals with anyone it considered acceptable to lead in a post-Assad era—an era that looked increasingly likely. At one point in 2012, there was gunfire so close to Assad’s residence that he and his family reportedly fled to Latakia, an Alawite stronghold on the Syrian coast. “If we did not want a collapse of the regime—perhaps as happened in Iraq, with dramatic consequences after the U.S. intervention—then we had to find a solution that blended the moderate resistance with elements of the regime who were not heavily compromised,” the French foreign minister Laurent Fabius told Sam Dagher, for his book “Assad or We Burn the Country,” from 2019. Assad, meanwhile, eliminated several possible candidates to succeed him—including, it seems, his brother-in-law Assef Shawkat, who was in touch with French officials before dying in a bombing that was widely considered an inside job.
Halabi trod a careful line. “If the regime hadn’t killed people—if I wasn’t going to get my hands dirty with blood—it is possible that I would not have left,” he told the French. “That’s why the extremist opposition hates me. And the regime considers me a traitor, because I didn’t kill with them.” As long as his family was still in Suweida, he said, “I am caught between these two fires.”
After months of dealing with Embassy officials, Halabi was introduced to a man whom he knew only as Julien. “As soon as I saw him, I understood that he was from the intelligence service, because I am in the business,” Halabi later said. Julien apparently dangled the possibility of a relationship with French intelligence, but Halabi refused to share his insights for free. “I am not a child, I am an intelligence officer,” he said. He told Julien that he would consider helping the French only if he were first brought to Paris and granted political asylum, and if his family were smuggled out of Suweida.
In February, 2014, the French Embassy in Amman issued Halabi a single-use travel document and a visa. He landed in Paris on February 27th, according to the entry stamp, and checked into a hotel. Then began an “intelligence game,” as Halabi put it. “I needed money. They wanted to pressure me, to make me needy.”
According to Halabi, Julien was aware that he had only five hundred euros and a thousand dollars. Someone was supposed to meet him at the hotel within two days of arrival, to take care of the bill, help him apply for asylum and housing, and start debriefing him. But nobody came. After two weeks, Halabi ran out of cash. Desperate, he reached out to a Druze financier in Paris who had connections to spies in the Middle East. After a cash handoff, a French intelligence officer turned up at Halabi’s door.
“They didn’t like the fact that I called on some friends,” Halabi recalled. The intelligence officer, who introduced herself as Mme. Hélène, cited the Druze connection as evidence that Halabi was associated with another foreign intelligence agency. She added that it would be useless for him to apply for asylum. Halabi never saw her again.
After ninety days, Halabi’s visa expired, and he applied for asylum anyway. “They brought me here and abandoned me,” Halabi complained to the asylum officer, of his experience with French intelligence. “If they were professional, they would try to win me over.”
Halabi declined to speak with me. But his French asylum interview—which lasted for more than four hours, and was conducted by someone with deep knowledge of Syrian affairs—offers a glimpse into his character, background, priorities, and state of mind. “I’ve been cheated—it doesn’t go with French ethics,” Halabi insisted, in the interview. “They could do this to a little soldier, but not to a general like me.”
“Ethics and intelligence services—they’re not the same thing,” the asylum officer replied.
“I am sure they will intervene,” Halabi said. “I know that I deserve a ten-year residency document—ask your conscience.”
“If they intervene, they intervene, but we will not contact them,” the officer said. “We will make our own decision.”
“Question your conscience! No one is more threatened than me in Syria.”
“We will do our due diligence,” the asylum officer continued. “As you can imagine, in light of your profession, we will have to think about it for a while. We can’t make a decision today.”
By the end of 2015, nearly a million Syrians had crossed into Europe, fleeing the conflict. Across the Continent, survivors of detention and torture began spotting their former tormentors in grocery stores and asylum centers. The exodus had forced victims and perpetrators into the same choke points—Greek coastlines, Balkan roads, Central European bus depots. Local European police agencies were inundated with reports that they had no capacity to pursue.
One day that fall, a Canadian war-crimes investigator named Bill Wiley led me to a padlocked door in a basement in Western Europe. Inside was a large room containing a dehumidifier, metal shelving, and cardboard boxes stacked floor to ceiling. The boxes held more than six hundred thousand Syrian government documents, mostly taken from security-intelligence facilities that had been overrun by rebel groups. Using these documents, Wiley’s group, an N.G.O. called the Commission for International Justice and Accountability, had reconstructed much of the Syrian chain of command.
Wiley and his colleagues formed the CIJA in response to what they perceived as major deficiencies in the international justice system. Because Assad’s government had not ratified the founding document of the International Criminal Court, the court could not open an investigation into its crimes. Only the U.N. Security Council could rectify this, and the governments of Russia and China have blocked efforts to do so. It was the ultimate symbol of international failure: there was no clear path to prosecuting the most well-documented campaign of war crimes and crimes against humanity since the Holocaust.
International criminal trials often focus on authority, duty, chain of command. The force of the enterprise is in deterrence—in making plain that there are inflexible standards for conduct in war. A lack of enthusiasm does not amount to a defense. What matters is what is done—not how an officer felt about doing it. Under a mode of liability known as “command responsibility,” a senior officer, for example, can be prosecuted for failing to prevent or punish widespread, systematic criminality among his subordinates.
This distinction was apparently lost on Halabi, who seems to have thought of “law” only as whatever he was instructed to do. “When you receive an order, as a soldier, you have to carry it out,” Halabi told the French asylum officer. He didn’t appear to connect his obedience to what followed: more than two hundred members of the Raqqa branch of the General Intelligence Directorate would receive his order, and have to implement it. “I never did anything illegal in Syria, except helping people,” he said. “If there is an international tribunal for these people”—Assad and his deputies—“I will be the first to show up.”
The CIJA had prepared a four-hundred-page legal brief that established the criminal culpability of Assad and about a dozen of his top security officials. The brief links the systematic torture and murder of tens of thousands of Syrian detainees to orders that were drafted by the country’s highest-level security committee, approved by Assad, and sent down parallel chains of command. The CIJA’s documents contain hundreds of thousands, if not millions of names—arrestees and their interrogators, Baathist informants, the heads of each security agency—and have served as the basis for economic sanctions targeting regime officials. In recent years, the CIJA has become a source of Syrian-regime documents for civil and criminal cases all over the world. A tip from one of its investigators in ISIS territory prevented a terrorist attack in Australia. Meanwhile, the group has fielded requests from European law-enforcement agencies concerning more than two thousand Syrians. According to Stephen Rapp, a former international prosecutor who served as the United States Ambassador-at-Large for War Crimes Issues and is now the chair of the CIJA’s board of directors, the evidence in the CIJA’s possession is more comprehensive than that which was presented at the Nuremberg trials.
Assad and his deputies might never set foot in a jurisdiction where they will be charged. But, in 2015, Chris Engels, the CIJA’s head of operations, received a tip from an investigator in Syria that Khaled al-Halabi had slipped into Europe. At first, Engels hoped to interview him as a defector, for the Assad brief. But, as CIJA analysts began building a dossier on Halabi—drawing on internal regime documents, and also on testimony from his subordinates—Engels began to think of Halabi as a possible target for prosecution instead.
“How many arrests were you ordered to make?” the French asylum officer had asked Halabi.
“I don’t remember—in Suweida, none.”
“And in Raqqa?”
“Four or five.”
By the middle of 2012, according to the CIJA’s investigation, Halabi’s branch of the directorate was arresting some fifteen people a day. Detainees were stripped to their underwear and put in filthy, overcrowded cells, where they suffered from hunger, disease, and infection. The branch converted storage units in the basement into individual cells that ultimately held ten or more people.
“Detainees would be taken into the interrogation office, and typically soaked in cold water, and then placed into a large spare tire,” one of Halabi’s former subordinates said. “Then they were rolled onto their backs and beaten with electrical wires, fan belts, sticks, or batons.” Survivors recalled receiving electric shocks, and being hung from the walls or ceiling by their wrists. Screams could be heard throughout the three-story building. After interrogations, detainees were routinely forced to sign or place their fingerprints on documents that they had not been permitted to read.
The CIJA saw no evidence of the restrained treatment that Tayara had described. The care that Halabi had shown him before the revolution was far from the brutality later endured by other human-rights activists and intellectuals.
Many of the worst abuses were carried out by Halabi’s head of investigations and his chief of staff, the two Alawites he was apparently afraid of. These men and others regularly used the threat of rape, or rape itself, during interrogations. Defectors said that Halabi, whose office shared a wall with the interrogation room, was “fully aware” of what was going on. “Nobody would do anything without his knowledge,” a former officer at the branch recalled. “Often, he would enter and watch the torturing.” As the head of the branch, Halabi signed each order to transfer a detainee, for further interrogation, to Damascus, where thousands of people have been tortured to death.
A few weeks after the fall of Raqqa, Nadim Houry, who was then the lead Syria analyst for Human Rights Watch, travelled to the city. He had been studying the structures and abuses of Syria’s intelligence services since 2006. Now he made his way to Halabi’s ransacked branch.
“You go in, and on the first floor it almost looked like a regular Syrian bureaucratic building—offices, files scattered about, the same outdated furniture,” Houry told me. “Then you go down the stairs. You see the cells. I’d spent years documenting how they’d cram people into solitary-confinement cells. And now it sort of materialized in front of my eyes.” In a room near Halabi’s office, he found a bsat al-reeh, a large wooden torture device similar to a crucifix but with a hinge in the middle, used to bend people’s backs, sometimes until they broke.
“This is what the Syrian regime is, at its core,” Houry said. “It is a modern bureaucracy, with plenty of presentable people in it, but it is based on torture and death.”
Halabi and Tayara met two or three times in Paris. The encounters were cordial, if fraught; Tayara never fully understood Halabi’s motivation for reaching out to him. Perhaps it was loneliness, he said, or a desire for forgiveness.
The poet and the spy sipped black coffee with sugar by the Seine. They strolled through the city’s gardens, discussing the challenges of living in exile as older men. Their lives as opponents felt distant. Both were broke and alone, unable to master the local language, displaced in a land of safety that felt indifferent to everything they cared about and everyone they loved. Tayara lived in a tiny studio; Halabi told his former captive that he was staying in the spare room of an Algerian who lived in the suburbs. France was deeply involved in Syrian affairs. But in France famous Syrians from every faction drifted about in anonymity, longing to return home, agonizing over events that, to the people around them—in buses, Métro cars, parks, and cafés—weren’t so much seen as irrelevant as simply not noticed at all.
I asked Tayara whether Halabi had ever requested his help. “No, no, no,” he said. “It was just to inquire about my health, my family. It was all very lovely. He didn’t need anything from me.”
But it appears as though Halabi was grooming a witness—that he planned for the French authorities to contact Tayara, and was taking advantage of his target’s solitude and nostalgia. When the French asylum officer asked about Halabi’s role in repressive measures against protesters, he brought up Tayara.
“There is a person here in France,” Halabi said.
“Whom you arrested?”
“He is a friend,” Halabi said. “A famous member of the opposition.”
He launched into the story of Tayara’s first arrest. “He knew full well that the order came from on high—that I had nothing to do with it,” Halabi said. “I even bought him a pair of pajamas, with my own money, because I liked him. I prohibited my men from blindfolding and handcuffing him—well, to blindfold him only when he was entering national-security facilities. He went, he came back, we stayed friends. . . . You can ask him.”
“I understand that you are minimizing your role a little bit,” the French officer said. “You say that you were against violence, torture, and deaths, but you continued to be chief of intelligence for a regime that was known for its repression. Why did you stay working for this regime for so long?”
Halabi didn’t wait for a decision on his asylum status; after several months without news, he opted to once again vanish. Before leaving Paris, he mentioned to Tayara that, according to a friend, Austria was a more welcoming place for refugees. It was a strange assertion; Austria’s increasingly right-wing government was taking the opposite stance. “We try to get rid of asylum seekers from the moment they touch our soil,” Stephanie Krisper, a centrist Austrian parliamentarian, who is appalled by this approach, told me.
I met Tayara in Paris, on a rainy November afternoon in 2019; he and Halabi hadn’t spoken in years. I asked for help contacting Halabi, but Tayara gently declined. “I am an old man,” he said. “I look for peace. I look for beauty, for poetry. I like watching ballet! This mystery—it is very hard. I don’t want to continue with it.” He sighed, and adjusted his scarf, which partly obscured his face. “I am afraid to continue investigations about him,” he said. “There are so many of them—so many Syrian officers here.”
At the CIJA headquarters, Engels and Wiley had concluded that there was no more important target within reach of European authorities than Khaled al-Halabi: as a brigadier general and the head of a regional intelligence branch, he was the highest-ranking Syrian war criminal known to be on the Continent.
The CIJA formed a tracking team to find him and other targets: investigators worked sources and defectors, analysts pored over captured documents, a cyber unit hunted for digital traces. Before long, the tracking team had Halabi’s social-media accounts. On Facebook, he went by Achilles; on Skype, he was Abu Kotaiba, meaning “Father of Kotaiba”—Halabi’s son. Online, Halabi claimed to live in Argentina. But Skype metadata revealed that he had told Tayara the truth about his plans; he consistently logged in from a cell phone tied to an I.P. address in Vienna.
From time to time, CIJA investigators receive tips about ISIS members in Europe, and Wiley immediately alerts the local authorities. But, when it comes to former Syrian military and intelligence officers, who pose less of an immediate threat, his organization is more judicious. “We don’t go to the domestic authorities and say, ‘Yeah, we hear So-and-So is in your country,’ ” Wiley said. “If these guys are still loyal to the regime, they might be a threat to other Syrians in the diaspora in Europe, but they’re not going to be blowing up or stabbing people in the shopping district.” Besides, a leaked notification could trigger someone like Halabi to go underground.
By January, 2016, the CIJA’s Halabi dossier was complete. For four months, the location of his Skype log-ins had not changed. Stephen Rapp requested a meeting with the Austrian Justice Ministry. A reply came back on official letterhead, with a date from the wrong year: “Dear Mr. Rapp! I am glad to invite you and Mr. Engels to the Austrian Federal Ministry of Justice.” It continued, “All expenses of the delegation, including interpretation and/or translation, accommodation, transportation, meals, guides and insurance during your stay in Austria will be borne by your side.”
“We hadn’t worked with the Austrians before—they’re not very active in the international war-crimes space,” Engels told me. “But normally this is a very coöperative process. And fast.”
On the morning of January 29, 2016, Rapp and Engels walked into Room 410 at the Austrian Ministry of Justice. Five officials awaited them—a judge, a senior administrator, the deputy head of the International Crimes Division, and two men who did not give their names. After Engels and Rapp laid out the CIJA’s evidence, one of the officials searched a government database and affirmed that a Khaled al-Halabi was registered to an address in Vienna.
The meeting drew to a close. Engels and Rapp handed over the Halabi dossier. Once they left the room, the two unnamed men—who worked for the B.V.T., Austria’s civilian security-intelligence agency—were asked to look into whether the man described by the CIJA was the man at the Vienna address. They agreed to do so, giving no indication that they had ever heard of Halabi before that morning. In fact, two weeks earlier, one of them, an intelligence officer named Oliver Lang, had taken Halabi shopping for storage drawers at Ikea, and had written the delivery address using his operational cover name.
Lang kept the receipt, and later filed it for expenses. It also had Halabi’s signature, which he hadn’t modified since his days of signing arrest warrants in Raqqa. The money for the drawers had come in the form of a cash drop from Halabi’s secret longtime handlers: the Israeli intelligence services.
After the Second World War, the Austrian government maintained that its people were the Nazis’ first victims, instead of their enthusiastic backers. Schoolchildren were not taught about the Holocaust, and, for almost half a century, Jews who returned to Vienna were unable to recover expropriated property. In 1975, Austria halted all prosecutions of former Nazis. Ten years later, the Times reported that the country had “abandoned any serious attempt to arrest Mr. Brunner,” the Nazi then living in Damascus, who had deported more than a hundred and twenty-five thousand people to concentration and extermination camps. From his apartment on Rue Haddad, Brunner sent money to his wife and daughter in Vienna, where he had led the office that rid the city of its Jewish population. The Austrian chancellor, in a dismissive conversation with Nazi hunters, seemed to accept the Syrian government’s official position—that it had no idea where Brunner was.
In 1986, it emerged that Austria’s best-known diplomat, Kurt Waldheim—who had served for most of the previous decade as the Secretary-General of the United Nations—had been a Nazi military-intelligence officer during the war. At first, Waldheim, who was running for President of Austria, denied the allegation. But, as more information came out, he began to defend himself as a “decent soldier,” and claimed that the true “scandal” was the effort to dredge up the past. Other politicians came to his defense. “As long as it cannot be proved that he personally strangled six Jews, there is no problem,” the head of Waldheim’s party told a French magazine. Waldheim won the election, and served until 1992. The U.S. Department of Justice concluded that he had taken part in numerous Nazi war crimes, including the transfer of civilians for slave labor, executions of civilians and prisoners of war, and mass deportations to concentration and extermination camps. For the rest of his term, Waldheim was welcome only in some Arab countries and at the Vatican.
It took until after Waldheim’s Presidency for the Austrian government to begin acknowledging decades-old crimes. And only last year did Austria begin offering citizenship to descendants of victims of Nazi persecution. A shadow still hangs over the country. “The Austrians, in European war-crimes circles, have a reputation for being particularly fucking useless,” said Bill Wiley, whose first war-crimes investigation, in the nineties, was of an Austrian Nazi who had escaped to Canada. “You just never know what is driven by incompetence and laziness and disinterest, and what’s driven by venality.”
In recent years, Austria has been cut out of European intelligence-sharing agreements, including the Club de Berne—an informal intelligence network that involves most European nations, the U.K., the U.S., and Israel. (Austria withdrew after the Club’s secret review of the B.V.T.’s cyber-infrastructure, building-security, and counter-proliferation measures—all of which it found to be abysmal—was leaked to the Austrian press.) Senior Austrian intelligence officers have been accused of spying for Russia and Iran, and also of smuggling a high-profile fugitive out of Austria on a private plane. An Iranian spy, who was operating under diplomatic cover in Vienna and was listed in a B.V.T. document as a “possible target for recruitment,” was convicted of planning a terrorist attack on a convention in France; Belgian prosecutors later determined that he’d smuggled explosives through the Vienna airport, in a diplomatic pouch. “The Austrians are not considered to have a particularly good service,” a retired senior C.I.A. officer told me. The general view within Western European intelligence agencies is that what is shared with Vienna soon makes its way to Moscow—a concern that was amplified when Vladimir Putin danced with Austria’s foreign minister at her wedding, in 2018.
But in March of 2015, the Mossad invited the B.V.T. leadership to participate in an operation that sounded meaningful: an Israeli intelligence asset was in need of Austrian assistance. Three months had passed since Halabi’s French asylum interview, and he was simultaneously hiding and overexposed, searching for a way out of the country.
The deputy director of the B.V.T. travelled to Tel Aviv. According to a top-secret B.V.T. memo, the Israelis said that, owing to Halabi’s “cultural origins,” he was poised to “assume an important role in the Syrian state structure after the fall of the Assad regime.” Halabi wouldn’t be working for the B.V.T., but the Israelis promised to share relevant information with the agency from time to time. All the Austrians had to do was bring Halabi to Vienna and help him set up his life.
Bernhard Pircher, the head of the B.V.T.’s intelligence unit, created a file with a code name for Halabi: White Milk. He assigned the case to two officers, Oliver Lang and Martin Filipovits. Soon afterward, they received orders to go to Paris, meet with French counterintelligence, and return to Vienna the next day, with Halabi. There were no obvious challenges. The Mossad had cleared the exfiltration with French intelligence, according to a B.V.T. document, and Israeli operatives were in “constant contact” with Halabi in Paris.
Lang and Filipovits set off at dawn on May 11th, and boarded a flight to Charles de Gaulle—Row 6, aisle seats C and D, billed to the Mossad. When they landed, they went by Métro to the headquarters of France’s domestic-intelligence agency, the D.G.S.I. There, according to Lang’s official account of the meeting, they sat down with the deputy head of counterintelligence, a Syria specialist, and an interpreter. Also present were three representatives of the Mossad, including the Paris station chief and Halabi’s local handler.
The Austrian and Israeli officers asked permission to fly Halabi out of France on a commercial plane, a request that they assumed was a formality. But the D.G.S.I. refused. Halabi had applied for asylum, a French officer said, and domestic law stipulates that asylum seekers cannot travel beyond French borders until a decision has been made. The Austrians and the Israelis proposed that Halabi retract his French asylum request, but the D.G.S.I. replied that, in that case, Halabi would be in France illegally. After the meeting, according to Lang’s notes, the Israelis told Lang that the French had changed their position since learning that “the B.V.T. is also involved.”
Lang suggested that the Israelis smuggle Halabi out of France in a diplomatic vehicle, through Switzerland or Germany. The B.V.T. would wait at the Austrian border and escort them to Vienna. “The proposal was well received,” he wrote. But the Mossad team would first have to check with headquarters, in Tel Aviv, “as this approach could have a lasting impact on relations” between Israeli and French intelligence agencies.
In the early twenty-tens, the Mossad had made something of a habit of operating in Paris without French permission. The agency, which is not subject to Israel’s legal framework, and answers only to the Prime Minister, had reportedly lured French intelligence officers into inappropriate relationships; attempted to sell compromised communications equipment, through a front company, to the French national police and the domestic intelligence service; and used a Paris hotel room as a staging ground for a kill operation in Dubai. Members of the kill team entered and exited the United Arab Emirates on false passports that used the identities of real French citizens—an incident that a judicial-police chief in Paris later described to Le Monde as “an unacceptable attack on our sovereignty.”
On June 2nd, Lang, Filipovits, and Pircher met with officers from the Mossad. “It was agreed that the ‘package’ would be delivered” in eleven days, Lang wrote. The Israelis may have quietly worked out an agreement with French intelligence, to avoid friction, but the Austrians never learned of any such arrangement; as far as they were concerned, the D.G.S.I. would remain in the dark.
Unlike France, Israel did not overtly seek to topple Assad’s regime. Its operations in Syria were centered on matters in which it perceived a direct threat: Iranian personnel, weapons transfers, and support for Hezbollah. Since 2013, Israeli warplanes have carried out hundreds of bombings on Iran-linked targets in Syria. The Syrian government rarely objects; to acknowledge the strikes would be to admit that it is powerless to prevent them. It is unlikely that Halabi, from his hiding places in Europe, was in any way useful to Israeli intelligence.
Two days before Halabi’s extraction, Lang’s security clearance was upgraded to Top Secret. Outside of the B.V.T. leadership, only he and Filipovits knew about the operation. Lang still believed that Halabi had access to information that was of “immense importance” to the Austrian state. “Miracles happen,” Lang wrote to Pircher.
“Today is just like the 24th of December,” Pircher replied.
“Well then . . . MERRY CHRISTMAS.”
On June 13th, Lang waited at the Walserberg crossing, at the border with Germany, for the Israelis to arrive. It is unclear whether the German government was aware that the Mossad was moving a Syrian general out of France and through its territory in a diplomatic car. Lang booked hotel rooms in Salzburg for himself, the Israelis, and the man he would start referring to as White Milk in his reports. Once again, the Mossad took care of the bill.
“To betray, you must first belong,” Kim Philby, a British spy who defected to the Soviet Union, said, in 1967. “I never belonged.”
In the past two years, I have discussed Halabi’s case with spies, politicians, activists, defectors, victims, lawyers, and criminal investigators in six countries, and have reviewed thousands of pages of classified and confidential documents in Arabic, French, English, and German. The process has been beset with false leads, misinformation, recycled rumors, and unanswerable questions—a central one of which is the exact timing and nature of Halabi’s recruitment by Israeli intelligence. Nobody had a clear explanation, or could say what he contributed to Israeli interests. But, slowly, a picture began to emerge.
A leaked B.V.T. memo describes Israel, in its exfiltration of Halabi from Paris, as being “committed to its agents who have already completed their tasks.” This resolved the matter of whether he had been recruited in Europe. “No one really wants defectors,” the retired senior C.I.A. officer, who has decades of experience in the Middle East, told me. “What you really want is an agent in place.” In moving Halabi to Vienna, the Israelis were fulfilling a debt to a longtime source. So how did the relationship begin?
Halabi graduated from the Syrian military academy in Homs in 1984, when he was twenty-one. Sixteen years later, he earned a law degree in Damascus—a qualification that resulted in his being seconded to the General Intelligence Directorate. “I did not choose to work in the security service—it was a military order,” he told the French asylum representative. “I was a brilliant military officer. I was angry to have been transferred to the intelligence service.” He served the directorate in Damascus for four years; in 2005, he became a regional director—first in Suweida, then in Homs, in Tartous, and in Raqqa.
In asylum interviews, Halabi glossed over the precise nature of his first job at the directorate in Damascus, and his interrogators were focussed on what he had done in his final post. But, in a top-secret meeting, the Israelis blundered. According to the B.V.T.’s meeting notes, a Mossad officer said that Halabi couldn’t have been involved in war crimes, because he was the “head of ‘Branch 300,’ in Raqqa,” which was “exclusively responsible” for thwarting the activities of foreign intelligence services.
The B.V.T. didn’t register the mistake: there is no Branch 300 in Raqqa—Halabi’s branch was 335. And yet the Mossad operative had accurately described the counterintelligence duties of the real Branch 300, which is in Damascus.
I began searching for references to Branch 300 and counterintelligence in various Halabi dossiers and leaks. A defector had told the CIJA that Halabi might have served at Branch 300 but didn’t specify when. By now, there were hundreds of pages of government documents scattered on my floor. One day, I revisited a scan of Halabi’s handwritten asylum claim from France, from the summer of 2014. There it was, in a description of his work history, his first job at the directorate: “I served in Damascus (counterintelligence service).”
By Halabi’s own account of his life, he would have been a classic target: approaching middle age, feeling as if his military prowess had gone unappreciated; aggrieved at the notion that, no matter how well he served, in a state run by sectarian Alawite élites he would never attain recognition or power. Even after his promotion to regional director, “as a member of the Druze minority, I was marginalized,” Halabi told the French asylum interviewer. He seems to think of himself as Druze first and Syrian second. The Druze are not especially committed to the politics of any country; they simply make pragmatic arrangements in order to survive.
Syria’s counterintelligence branch is incredibly difficult to penetrate from the outside. But the rest of the Syrian defense apparatus is not. In the decades before the revolution, “everyone was spying for somebody—if not the Israelis, then us and the Jordanians,” a former member of the U.S. intelligence community told me. “The entire Syrian military—they were just a criminal enterprise, a mafia. They had no loyalty besides, perhaps, the really, really small inner circle. It was hard to work, because they were also spying on each other. But there were not a lot of secrets.”
Halabi appears to have stayed in Syria for most, if not all, of his career. For this reason, among others, it is more likely that his recruitment was the work of Israeli military intelligence than that of the Mossad. A secretive military-intelligence element known as Unit 504 recruits and handles sources in neighboring areas of conflict and tensions, including Syria, and it routinely targets promising young military officers. If Unit 504 got to Halabi when he was a soldier, his appointment to Branch 300 would have been an extraordinary intelligence coup.
Halabi may not have known for some time that he was working for Israel; its spies routinely pose as foreigners from other countries, especially during operations in the Middle East. Or perhaps he was given a narrow assignment regarding a shared interest. Halabi was disgusted by Iran’s growing influence over Syria, and has described Assad as an “Iranian puppet” who is “not fit to govern a country.”
The extent of Halabi’s service for Israel is unknown. But I have found no evidence of Israeli involvement in his escape from Raqqa to Turkey, or in his efforts to persuade the French Embassy in Jordan to send him to France—where his contact with the Druze financier was exposed. Something similar caught Walid Joumblatt’s attention—his men have detected an unusual flow of cash and communications into the Syrian Druze community via Paris. “This money was not coming from here,” he told me, from his elegant stone palace, in Mt. Lebanon. It was coming from Israel. “We think this Halabi is working with our other nasty neighbors, the Israelis.”
With Halabi abandoned in Paris, it fell to the Mossad to help an Israeli asset. (Unit 504 is not known to operate in Europe.) According to a B.V.T. memo, the Mossad created a “phased plan” for Halabi—exfiltration to Austria, plus an initial stipend of several thousand euros a month. The long-term goal was for Halabi to become “financially self-sustainable.” But he wasn’t, as the memo put it, “out in the cold.”
Oliver Lang was also a counterintelligence officer, and his specialty at the B.V.T. was Arab affairs. But he had never learned Arabic, so Pircher, his boss, brought in another officer, Ralph Pöchhacker, who had claimed linguistic proficiency. When Lang introduced him to Halabi, however, the two men couldn’t communicate. “Oh, well, you can forget about Ralph,” Lang informed Pircher. “Ralph more or less doesn’t understand his dialect.”
Pircher is short, with long blond hair, and a frenetic social energy. (Behind his back, people call him Rumpelstiltskin.) Before he became the head of the B.V.T.’s intelligence unit, through his political party, in 2010, he had little understanding of policing or intelligence.
Two days after Halabi crossed into Austria, Lang paid an interpreter to accompany him and Halabi to an interview at an asylum center in Traiskirchen, thirty minutes south of Vienna. In the preceding weeks, Filipovits had examined legal options for Halabi’s residency, and determined that asylum came with a key advantage: any government officials involved in the process would be “subject to a comprehensive duty of confidentiality.”
In Traiskirchen, Lang made sure that Halabi was “isolated, and not seen by other asylum seekers,” Natascha Thallmayer, the asylum officer who conducted the interview, later said. “I was not given a reason for this.” Lang never introduced himself; although his presence is omitted from the record, he sat in on the interview. “Why and according to which legal basis the B.V.T. official took part, I can no longer say,” Thallmayer said. “He just stayed there.”
Halabi lied to Thallmayer about his entry into Austria. A friend in Paris “bought me a train ticket,” he said, and put him on a train to Vienna—by which route, exactly, he didn’t know. The story was clearly absurd; the B.V.T. had arranged the interview with the asylum office long before Halabi’s supposedly spontaneous arrival by train. Nevertheless, Thallmayer asked no follow-up questions. “The special interest of the B.V.T. was obvious,” she said.
At the beginning of Operation White Milk, Pircher had noted in his records that Halabi “must leave France” but faced “no danger.” Now Lang fabricated a mortal risk. “The situation in France is such that there are repeated, sometimes violent clashes between regime supporters and opponents, some of which result in serious injuries and deaths,” he wrote. He added that, owing to Halabi’s “knowledge of top Syrian state secrets, it must be assumed that, if Al-Halabi is captured by the various Syrian intelligence services, he will be liquidated.” The B.V.T. submitted Lang’s memos to the asylum agency, whose director, Wolfgang Taucher, ordered that Halabi’s file be placed “under lock and key.”
The B.V.T. had no safe houses or operational black budgets, so it rented Halabi an apartment from Pircher’s father-in-law. For the next six months, Lang carried out menial tasks on behalf of the Mossad. “Dear Bernhard! Please remember to call your father-in-law about the apartment!” he wrote to Pircher. “Dear Bernhard! Please be so kind as to remember the letter regarding the registration block!”
“God you are annoying,” Pircher replied.
“Dear Bernhard!” Lang wrote, in early July. He didn’t like the fact that, for all these petty tasks, he had to use his real name. “It would certainly not be bad to be equipped with a cover name,” he wrote. “What do you think?” By the end of the month, Lang was introducing himself around the city—at Ikea, the bank, the post office, Bob & Ben’s Electronic Installation Services—as Alexander Lamberg.
The Israelis gave Lang about five thousand euros a month for Halabi’s accounts, passed through the Mossad’s Vienna station. Lang kept meticulous records, sometimes even noting the names of Israeli officers he met. Halabi found Pircher’s father-in-law’s apartment too small, so, after a few months, Lang started searching for another place. “Dear Bernhard!” Lang wrote, in July, 2015. “If we are successful, the monthly rent we agreed on with our friends will of course increase slightly. However, my opinion is that they will just have to live with it.”
On October 7th, Halabi provided Lang with intelligence that a possible ISIS fighter had applied for asylum in Austria. Lang filed a report, citing “a reliable source,” and sent it to Pircher, who passed it along to the terrorism unit. An officer there was underwhelmed by the tip. “Perhaps the source handler could talk to us,” he replied. The same information was all over Facebook and the news.
The next week, Lang and Filipovits went to a meeting in Tel Aviv. When they returned, Lang accompanied Halabi to a second asylum interview. Since Halabi had already applied for asylum in France, the officer asked his permission to contact the French government. “I am afraid for my life, and therefore I do not agree,” Halabi said, according to a copy of the transcript.
“There are also many Syrians in Austria,” the interviewer noted. “Are you not afraid here?”
“The number of Syrians in Austria does not come close to that of France, so it is easy for me to stay away from them here,” Halabi said. “And, above all, from Arabs. I stay away from all of these people.”
In fact, in both countries, Halabi was in touch with a group of Syrians who were trying to set up civil-society projects in rebel-held territory. But they suspected that he was gathering intelligence on their members. “All the other defectors and officers knew not to ask a lot of questions, to avoid suspicion among ourselves,” a member of the group told me. “But Halabi was the opposite. He was always asking questions. ‘How many people are attending the meeting?’ ‘Where is the meeting?’ ‘Can I have everyone’s names?’ ‘Everyone’s phone numbers?’ ” They cut him out of the flow of information. The member continued, “One possibility is that he simply could not leave his intelligence mentality behind. The other—which we began to suspect more and more, over time—is that he still had connections to the regime.”
In Vienna, Halabi hosted regime-affiliated members of the Syrian diaspora in his flat. According to someone who attended one of these events, several Syrians in his orbit flaunted their connections to foreign intelligence services, and the life style that came with them. The source, a well-connected Syrian exile, independently deduced Halabi’s relationship to the Israelis, and said that he believed it dated back to the previous decade and was likely narrow in scope—reporting on Iranian weapons shipments, for example, or on matters related to Hezbollah.
The moment Halabi left Syria, in 2013, he became “the weakest, the least relevant in the context of the war,” the man said. “Most people who are linked to foreign agencies participated—and in some cases continue to participate—in far worse crimes.” He added, “They have total access to Russia and the West, with all the money they need, all the diplomatic protections.” In the search for intelligence, not every useful person is a good one—and most of the good ones aren’t useful.
On December 2, 2015, Austria granted Halabi asylum. Within days, he was issued a five-year passport. Lang helped Halabi apply for benefits from the Austrian state. The B.V.T. had supported his application, noting that it had “no information” that he had ever “been involved in war crimes or other criminal acts in Syria.”
Seven weeks later, the Austrian Justice Ministry alerted the B.V.T. that the CIJA had identified a high-ranking Syrian war criminal in Austria. The Justice officials had never heard of Halabi, and were unaware that a member of their intelligence service was, at the behest of a foreign agency, tending to his every need. In Austria, war crimes fall under the investigative purview of the B.V.T.’s extremism unit. But no one in that unit was aware of Operation White Milk, and the B.V.T. sent Lang and Pircher to the January 29th meeting with the CIJA officials instead.
The Justice Ministry kept detailed meeting minutes. At one point, Stephen Rapp, the chair of the CIJA board of directors and former international prosecutor, noted that the CIJA’s witnesses included several of Halabi’s subordinates from the intelligence branch, testifying against their former boss.
Lang wrote down only one sentence during the meeting: “Deputy of Al-Halabi is in Sweden and is a witness against Al-Halabi.” It was as if the only thing he had absorbed was the urgency of the threat. Lang and Pircher told the Justice Ministry that they would look into whether Halabi was in the country. In secret, however, they set out to gather intelligence on the CIJA’s staff and its witnesses, and to discredit the organization, under the heading “Operation Red Bull.”
Days before the meeting with the CIJA, a miscommunication between the B.V.T. and the Justice Ministry had led Pircher and Lang to believe that Rapp and Engels, the CIJA’s head of operations, were part of an official U.S. delegation. When they finally understood that the CIJA is an N.G.O., they were startled by its investigative competence, and surmised that the group’s ability to track Halabi to Vienna signalled ties to an intelligence agency. Most of the CIJA’s staffers are from Europe and the Middle East. But, since the men across the table were American, Pircher and Lang inferred that the CIJA’s case against Halabi reflected a rupture in relations between the Mossad and the C.I.A. Rapp was especially suspect, they thought, since he had previously served in government.
Lang started researching Rapp, and e-mailed his findings to Pircher and Pircher’s boss, Martin Weiss, the head of operations.
Subject: Information about Stephen RAPP
Respected Leadership! For your information, if you type Stephen Rapp in Google . . .
Lang had unearthed the same basic biographical information that he and Pircher would have known if they had been listening during the meeting—or if they had read the meeting minutes, which the Justice Ministry had already shared with them.
Subject: Information on Operation Red Bull
Dear Bernhard!
Pircher had sent Lang an article from a Vienna newspaper, which Lang now summarized for him: a thirty-one-year-old Syrian refugee named Mohamad Abdullah had been arrested in Sweden, on suspicion of participating in war crimes somewhere in Syria, sometime in the previous several years. “Swedish authorities got on Abdullah’s trail through entries and photos on the Internet. Sounds suspiciously like the CIJA’s modus operandi to me,” Lang wrote. “Assuming that there are not umpteen war-crimes trials in Sweden, Abdullah must be the alleged deputy.” (Abdullah has no apparent connection to Halabi.)
On February 15, 2016, representatives of the B.V.T. and the Mossad met to discuss the CIJA and its findings; according to a top-secret memo drafted by Weiss, the Mossad team noted that the CIJA is a “private organization without a governmental or international mandate”—nothing to worry about, in other words, since it couldn’t prosecute anyone. Courts in Europe and the U.S. have opened cases that rely on the CIJA’s evidence. But that didn’t mean Austria had to do the same.
In mid-April, Pircher instructed Lang to find the address of the CIJA’s headquarters. For security reasons, the organization tries to keep its location private; documents in its possession indicate that the Syrian regime is trying to hunt down its investigators. Lang concluded that the CIJA shared an office with The Hague Institute for Global Justice, in the Netherlands, where Rapp had a non-resident fellowship.
A few days later, Pircher and another B.V.T. officer, Monika Gaschl, set off for The Hague. Their official purpose was to attend a firearms conference. But Pircher sent Gaschl to check out The Hague Institute. “Working persons are openly visible in front of their screens,” Gaschl reported. “At lunchtime, food was brought into the building. Obviously, food was ordered.” Gaschl took at least eight photographs—wide-angle images, showing the street, the sidewalk, the entrance, and the building façade—and submitted them to Pircher, who had sent her an e-mail requesting “tourist photos from the Hague.”
But Lang had supplied the wrong address, so Gaschl spied on a random office of people waiting for lunch. The CIJA has no affiliation with The Hague Institute. It isn’t even based in the Netherlands.
Austria’s Justice Ministry agreed that the CIJA’s dossier amounted to “sufficient” ground for an investigation—as long as the B.V.T. confirmed that Khaled al-Halabi, the Vienna resident, was the man in the file. (After three weeks with no update, the judge who had attended the CIJA meeting called Lang, who informed her that the results of his investigation showed that Halabi “was, to all appearances, actually staying in Vienna.”) But, after the CIJA sent more evidence and documents, “we heard nothing,” Engels said. During the next five years, the CIJA followed up with the Austrians at least fifteen times. A Vienna prosecutor named Edgar Luschin had formally opened an investigation, but he showed little interest in it. At first, according to the CIJA, Luschin dismissed the evidence as insufficient. He later clarified that the quality of war-crimes evidence was immaterial; he simply could not proceed.
Austria has been a member of the International Criminal Court for more than twenty years. But it wasn’t until 2015 that the Austrian parliament updated the list of crimes covered by its universal-jurisdiction statute—an assertion that the duty to prosecute certain heinous crimes transcends all borders—in a way that would definitively apply to Halabi. For this reason, Luschin decided, Austria had no authority to try Halabi for war crimes or for crimes against humanity; whatever happened under his command had taken place before 2015.
“Why this is the Austrian position, I could only speculate,” Wiley, the CIJA founder, told me. Other European countries have overcome similar legal hurdles. “It could be that the Ministry of Justice, as part of the broader Austrian tradition, just couldn’t be arsed to do a war-crimes case,” he added.
In fact, Luschin’s position guaranteed that there would be no meaningful investigation—and he promised as much to the B.V.T. In December, 2016, Lang’s partner, Martin Filipovits, asked Luschin about the status of his case. But when Filipovits used the words “war criminal” in reference to Halabi, Luschin stopped him. The term “is not applicable from a legal point of view,” Luschin said. He added that he might interview Halabi, but only to ask whether he had ever personally tortured someone—not as an international war crime but as a matter of domestic law, in the manner of a violent assault. Otherwise, Luschin said, “no investigative steps are necessary in Austria, and no concrete investigative order will be issued to the B.V.T.”
A year passed. Then the French asylum agency sent a rejection letter to Halabi’s old Paris address. “The fact that he didn’t desert until two years after the beginning of the Syrian conflict, and only when it had become evident that his men were incapable of resisting the rebel advance on Raqqa, casts doubt on his supposed motivation for desertion,” the letter read. It added that the asylum agency had “serious reasons” to believe that, owing to Halabi’s “elevated responsibilities” within the regime, he was “directly implicated in repression and human rights violations.” In April, 2018, the agency sent Halabi’s file to French prosecutors, who also requested documents from the CIJA. After it became clear that Halabi was no longer in French territory, prosecutors issued a request to all European police agencies for assistance tracking him down. The alert triggered an internal crisis at the B.V.T.; it was the first time that the extremism unit, which handles war-crimes investigations, had heard Halabi’s name.
In late July, Lang was forced to brief Sybille Geissler, the head of the extremism unit, on everything that had happened in the preceding years. She informed Luschin that Halabi was still living in the Vienna apartment that Lang had rented for him. She also handed him the CIJA’s dossier, which had just been supplied to her office by the French. Luschin acted as if he were seeing it for the first time.
That week, there was a flurry of correspondence between the B.V.T. and the Mossad. Lang was desperate to get Halabi out of the apartment. On August 1st, the Mossad liaison officer called Lang to say goodbye; according to Lang’s notes, the officer left Austria the following day. Two months later, the B.V.T. formally ended Operation White Milk. During the B.V.T.’s final case discussion with the Israelis, the Mossad requested that Halabi remain in Austria.
Seven weeks later, on November 27th, B.V.T. officers accompanied Austrian police to Halabi’s apartment and unlocked it with a spare key. Clothes were strewn about, and there was rotting food in the refrigerator. “The current whereabouts of al-Halabi could not be determined,” a B.V.T. officer noted, according to the police report. “The investigations are continuing.”
Oliver Lang still works at the B.V.T. His boss, Bernhard Pircher, was dismissed, after a different scandal. Pircher’s boss, Martin Weiss, was recently arrested, reportedly for selling classified information to the Russian state.
Three years ago, when Lang briefed Geissler on Operation White Milk, she asked him what Austria had gained from it. “Lang responded by saying that we might obtain information on internal structures of the Syrian intelligence service,” she later said. “I considered this pointless.”
Nazi hunters never gave up the pursuit for Alois Brunner. But, by 2014, when Brunner would have been a hundred and two, there had been no confirmed sighting in more than a decade. A German intelligence official informed a group of investigators that Brunner was almost certainly dead. “We were never able to confirm it forensically,” one of them told the Times. Nevertheless, he added, “I took his name off the list.”
Three years later, two French journalists, Hedi Aouidj and Mathieu Palain, tracked down Brunner’s Syrian guards in Jordan. Apparently, when Hafez al-Assad was close to death, his preparations for Bashar’s succession included hiding the old Nazi in a pest-ridden basement. Brunner was “very tired, very sick,” one of the guards recalled. “He suffered and he cried a lot. Everyone heard him.” The guard added that Brunner couldn’t even wash himself. “Even animals—you couldn’t put them in a place like that,” he said. Soon after Bashar took over, the door closed, and Brunner never saw it open again. “He died a million times.”
Brunner’s guards had been drawn from Syrian counterintelligence—Branch 300—and the dungeon where he died, in 2001, was beneath its headquarters. Halabi may well have been in the building during Brunner’s final weeks. Now Austria deflected attention from Halabi’s case, much as Syria had done with Brunner’s. A year after Halabi hastily moved out of his B.V.T. apartment, Rapp met with Christian Pilnacek, Austria’s second-highest Justice Ministry official. According to Rapp’s notes, Pilnacek said that, if the CIJA really wanted Halabi arrested, perhaps it ought to tell the ministry where he was. Last fall, Rapp returned to Vienna for an appointment with the justice minister—but she didn’t show up.
Of Halabi’s recent phone numbers, two had Austrian country codes, and a third was Hungarian. Until last fall, his WhatsApp profile picture showed him posing in sunglasses on the Széchenyi bridge, in Budapest. There have been unconfirmed sightings of him in Switzerland, and speculation that he escaped Vienna on a ferry down the Danube, to Bratislava, Slovakia. But the most reliable tips, from Syrians who know him, still place him in Austria.
One of these Syrians is Mustafa al-Sheikh, a defected brigadier general and the self-appointed head of the Free Syrian Army’s Supreme Military Revolutionary Council—an outfit he founded, to the confusion of existing F.S.A. factions. In a recent phone call from Sweden, he described Halabi as his “best friend.” “General Halabi is one of the best people in the Syrian revolution,” Sheikh insisted. He said that Halabi’s links to war crimes and foreign intelligence agencies were lies, conjured by Syrian intelligence and laundered through “deep state” networks in Europe, as part of a plot to undermine Halabi as a potential replacement for Assad. “I am positive that it is the French and the Austrians who are trying to cut Halabi’s wings, because people like him undermine their agendas in Syria,” he said.
But Halabi has reported on Sheikh’s activities to the Mossad. On January 4, 2017, a Mossad operative informed Oliver Lang that Halabi would be travelling abroad, because a friend of his had been invited by a foreign ministry to discuss a political settlement for Syria. “The friend wants Milk to participate in the negotiations,” Lang noted, in a top-secret memo, adding that the Mossad would debrief Halabi on his return.
Lang figured that the negotiations were “presumably in Jordan.” Instead, five days later, Halabi flew to Moscow, where he joined Mustafa al-Sheikh in a meeting with Russia’s deputy foreign minister, Mikhail Bogdanov. In the previous months, the Russians had helped the Syrian Army, and associated Shia militias, forcibly displace tens of thousands of civilians from rebel-held areas of Aleppo. Now the Russian government framed its discussions with Sheikh and Halabi as a “meeting with a group of Syrian opposition members,” with an “emphasis on the need to end the bloodshed.” Sheikh appeared on Russian state television and said that he hoped Russia would do to the rest of Syria what it had done in Aleppo—a statement that drew accusations of treason from his former rebel partners. Halabi remained in the shadows. I have heard rumors that he made three more trips to Moscow, but have found no evidence of this. His Austrian passport expired last December and has not been renewed.
In late August, I flew to Vienna and journeyed on to Bratislava. Every day for the next four days, I crossed the Slovak border into Austria by train shortly after dawn. I could see an array of satellite dishes on the hill at Königswarte—an old Cold War listening station, for spying on the East, now updated and operated by the N.S.A. In the past century, Vienna has become known as a city of spies. It is situated on the fringe of East and West, by Cold War standards, and Austria has been committed to neutrality, in the manner of the Swiss, since the nineteen-fifties. These conditions have attracted many international organizations, and, in recent decades, Vienna has been the site of high-profile spy swaps, peace negotiations, and unsolved assassinations. Now, as my colleague Adam Entous reported, it is the epicenter of Havana Syndrome—invisible attacks, of uncertain origin, directed at U.S. Embassy officials.
Austria’s legal framework effectively allows foreign intelligence agencies to act as they see fit, as long as they don’t target the host nation. But Austria has little capacity to enforce even this. According to Siegfried Beer, an Austrian historian of espionage, “Whenever we discover a mole within our own services, it’s not because we’re any good at counterintelligence—it’s because we get a hint from another country.
“The biggest problem with the B.V.T. is the quality of the people,” he went on. With few exceptions, “it is staffed with incompetents, who got there through police departments or political parties.” Most officers have no linguistic training or international experience.
In 2018, after a series of scandals, the Ministry of the Interior decided to dissolve the B.V.T., which it oversees, and replace it with a new organization, to be called the Directorate of State Security and Intelligence. Officers are currently reapplying for their own positions within the new structure, which will be launched at the beginning of next year. But, as Beer sees it, the effort is futile: “Where are you going to get six hundred people who, all of a sudden, can do intelligence work?”
Press officers at the Interior Ministry insinuated that it could be illegal for them to comment on this story. Pircher declined to comment; lawyers for Weiss and Lang did not engage. The Justice Ministry’s Economic Crimes and Corruption Office, which is investigating the circumstances under which Halabi was granted asylum, said that it “doesn’t have any files against Khaled al-Halabi”—but I have several thousand leaked pages from its investigation.
A week before my arrival in Austria, I sent a detailed request to the Mossad; it went unanswered. So did three requests to the Israeli Embassy in Vienna, and one to Unit 504. On a sunny morning, I walked to the Embassy, on a quiet, tree-lined street. “We did not answer you, because we do not want to answer you!” an Israeli official bellowed through a speaker at the gate. “Publish whatever you want! We will not read it.”
From there, I walked to Halabi’s last known address. As I approached, I noticed that, on Google Maps, the name of the building was denoted in Arabic script, al-beit—“home.” For several minutes, I sat on a bench near the entrance listening, through an open window, to an Arabic-speaking woman who was cooking in Halabi’s old flat, 1-A. Then I checked the doorbell: “Lamberg”—Oliver Lang’s cover name.
A teen-age boy answered the door, but he was far too young to be Halabi’s son, Kotaiba. I asked if Halabi was there. “He left long ago,” the boy said. I asked how he knew the name; he replied that Austrian journalists had come to the flat before.
The next day, I visited Halabi’s lawyer, Timo Gerersdorfer, at his office, in Vienna’s Tenth District. He said that the government had revoked Halabi’s asylum status, since it had been obtained through deception, and that he has appealed the decision, arguing that the revelation of Halabi’s work for Israeli intelligence poses such a threat to his life that Austria must protect him forever. “No one could get asylum in Austria if they told the truth,” he said. According to Gerersdorfer, Halabi is broke; it seems that the Mossad has stopped paying his expenses. A few months ago, Halabi tried to stay in a shelter with other refugees, but the shelter looked into his background and turned him away.
I discovered a new address for Halabi, in the Twelfth District, an area that is home to many immigrants from Turkey and the Balkans. Later that afternoon, I walked the streets near his block, as people returned home from work. The neighborhood was full of men who looked like him—late middle age, overweight, five and a half feet tall. I must have checked a thousand faces. But none of them were his.
Luschin’s office says that its investigation into Halabi is “still pending.” But, according to someone who is familiar with Luschin’s thinking, the general view at the Justice Ministry is that “it’s Syria, and it’s a war. Everybody tortures.” Other European governments have expressed openness to normalizing diplomatic relations with Assad, and have taken steps to deport refugees back to Syria and the surrounding countries.
If Halabi is the highest-ranking Syrian war criminal who can be arrested, it is only because the greater monsters are protected. The obstacle to prosecuting Assad and his deputies is political will at the U.N. Security Council. Halabi’s former boss in Damascus, Ali Mamlouk, reportedly travelled to Italy on a private jet in 2018. Mamlouk is one of the war’s worst offenders—it was his order, which Halabi passed along, to shoot at gatherings of more than four people in Raqqa. But Mamlouk—who has been sanctioned since 2011, and was prohibited from travelling to the European Union—had a meeting with Italy’s intelligence director, so he came and went.
After twenty hours of searching for Halabi, I walked to his apartment complex and buzzed his door. A young Austrian woman answered; she had never heard of Halabi, and had no interest in who he was. I showed Halabi’s photograph at every shop and restaurant in a three-block radius of the address. “We know a lot of people in this neighborhood,” a Balkan man with a gray goatee told me. He squinted at the image a second time, and shook his head. “I have never seen this man.”
On my way out of the Twelfth District, I walked past the western side of the apartment building, where balconies overlook a garden. Directly above the Austrian woman’s apartment, a man who looked like Khaled al-Halabi sat on his balcony, shielded from the late-morning sun. But I was unable to confirm that it was him. A knock on the door went unanswered; according to a neighbor, the flat is empty. A lie uttered by Syria’s foreign minister, thirty years ago, kept playing in my head: “This Brunner is a ghost.” ♦
New Yorker Favorites
My childhood in a cult.
What does it mean to die?
The cheating scandal that shook the world of master sommeliers.
Can we live longer but stay younger?
How mosquitoes changed everything.
Why paper jams persist.
Sign up for our daily newsletter to receive the best stories from The New Yorker. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 72 | http://syrianhistory.com/en/photos/2697%3Ftag%3DSyrian%2BMedals | en | Assad on the 25th anniversary of the establishment of the Syrian Army | [
"http://syrianhistory.com/assets/sh-logo-english.png",
"http://syrianhistory.com/assets/awd-badge.png",
"http://syrianhistory.com/uploads/photo/image/show_photo120412142241.jpg",
"http://syrianhistory.com/uploads/photo/image/show_photo120412142241.jpg"
] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | null | A 1971 medal granted by President Hafez al-Assad on the 25th anniversary of the establishment of the Syrian Army
Views: 6508 | ||||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 10 | https://www.institutmontaigne.org/en/expressions/syrian-uprising-10-year-anniversary-diplomatic-perspective | en | Syrian Uprising 10-Year Anniversary: A Diplomatic Perspective | [
"https://www.institutmontaigne.org/ressources/styles/publication_vignette/public/images/Publications/vignette-innovation-francaise-nos-incroyables-talents.jpg.webp?itok=Zz7TlxU3",
"https://www.institutmontaigne.org/ressources/styles/expression_large/public/images/Blog/image-all-syrian-uprising-10-year-anniversary... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | On the occasion of the 10th anniversary of the Syrian uprising, our Special Advisor and former French Ambassador to Syria Michel Duclos discusses his experience of working in the country and provides a diplomatic perspective on the Syrian conflict. Michel Duclos was interviewed by Jihad Yazigi, Editor-in-Chief of The Syria Report. The article was initially published in The Syrian Observer on 17.03.2021. | en | /ressources/favicon.ico | Institut Montaigne | https://www.institutmontaigne.org/en/expressions/syrian-uprising-10-year-anniversary-diplomatic-perspective | A few years on, the question arose: should we not re-establish ties with Assad? My response is simple: we must not engage with a dictator who has perpetrated mass crimes. Certainly not a country like France, where political identity is tied up with the law of human rights. Moreover, our historical experience shows it is not according to Western countries - at least not European - that the regime sets its course. It is futile to think that dialogue with it could be productive. France tried on several occasions under Chirac and Sarkozy without achieving anything. If France were to open dialogue in the current circumstances, it would simply lead to fresh humiliation.
Some in the US claim that Syria is not strategically important. At the same time, armies from around the region and the world are on the ground. How do you explain the level of internationalization of the Syrian conflict?
The entire American approach towards the region is centred on Iraq, Iran and the Gulf, with Syria a secondary concern. Syria, however, has turned out to be particularly important for the Islamic Republic of Iran; control over Damascus represents part of the "family jewels" acquired by the Iranian Islamic Revolution. Having a "Shiite corridor" to the Mediterranean represents a major strategic gain for Tehran, hence the Iranians’ heavy investment in saving the regime from the very outset of the uprising, leading to the involvement of Hezbollah.
The Russians had other reasons for becoming equally involved, especially after 2015 when Putin understood the United States would leave the field clear for him. The Turks - not without reason - considered their own interests to be directly threatened by the possible emergence of a mini-Kurdish state, an influx of refugees and the threat of terrorism.
To justify their inaction, American officials of the time explain that "regime change" was a bad approach that had mired them in all sorts of debacles over the course of the previous decades. It was the theme of Philip Gordon’s latest book. When it comes to Syria, however, we can do an inverse reading; on at least two occasions, Obama saved the regime’s skin: when it allowed chemical attacks in the summer of 2013 to go unpunished; and when the American air force, in the spring of 2015, bombarded an armed group that would have threatened the Alawite coast had it overrun the northeast.
A solution to the Syrian conflict seems dependent on an agreement between the main international actors. How likely is that to happen ?
Both in theory and in practise, a solution to the conflict can only emerge from an alignment of interests among the main powers involved.
In any case, the Assad regime’s capacity to resist is strong. It knows what it wants: to endure by preserving the hard core of its power, namely the security services. Assad believes his protectors need him more than he needs them. His relationship with the Iranian Supreme leader is one of vassal to suzerain. He adopted his father’s textbook in which one of the rules is to play one patron against another if necessary.
That said, I believe we must avoid mythologizing the omnipotence of the Assad model. This regime rules amidst ruins. Even a serious analyst - otherwise inclined to highlight the successes of the regime - notes that it controls only scant stretches of the country’s borders. Its hold on "useful Syria" remains tenuous. For now, its continuity may be expedient to both the Russians and the Iranians, but nobody knows whether the regime could survive a change of opinion in one or the other of its protectors. And then there is Israel: the Israelis always proceed on the assumption that it is preferable to keep in place the devil they know. They never understood that Bashar is no longer the devil they knew, for - unlike his father - he has invited a massive Iranian presence into Syria. Will they come to realise this one day?
What should we expect from the Biden administration?
Expectations are meagre, at least a priori. The near East in general and Syria in particular are not priorities for this administration.
Furthermore, it is staffed with old Obama administration officials, which raises an important question: are we headed towards an "Obama III" style policy? That would mean the Syrian crisis would be regarded as a subset of the Iran issue. For all his associates’ claims to the contrary, President Obama was prepared to go very far to win over the Iranians by not bothering them in Syria. It is true the context has changed; on at least two scores, we can expect to get a hearing from the new administration. For one, tolerance for human rights violations will be lower than it was under Trump. Secondly, Biden personally perceives Russia as a strategic adversary, and Russophobia has taken on new proportions among the American political class.
Here there is one point we may build on: Russia’s interest in Syria is to preserve the status quo and re-legitimise Assad through a phoney re-election, his readmission to the Arab League, normalisation of Syria’s ties with its neighbours, and reconstruction financed by Gulf countries. This, from a Russian perspective, is called a "frozen conflict", which it can manage at minimal cost while safeguarding its key levers. It enables Russia to reduce its politico-military engagement in Syria and invest elsewhere, for example in Libya or Georgia.
Is this really what Washington hopes for? Should we not continue to put pressure on the Assad regime and raise costs for the Russians and Iranians? That was the merit of the "Caesar Act", and of maintaining Western forces in the northeast alongside the SDF. I hope this policy will be continued by the Biden administration.
If you were to provide some broad guidelines on a diplomatic solution to the stalemate what would they be?
In order for an international settlement to be possible one day, we must in my view set two lines of action. Firstly, to definitively brand Bashar al-Assad an international pariah. In this regard, the legal actions multiplying in Europe are encouraging - credit to German justice! At a time when certain governments appear to have resigned themselves to restoring ties, the de-legitimisation of the tyrant continues in international opinion. Diplomatically, therefore, the first task is to dissuade Arab and certain European states from normalising relations with the regime.
Let us recall Omar al-Bashir. He ruled over Sudan for thirty years with methods comparable to those of the Assad regime.
His indictment by the International Criminal Court did not prevent him remaining in power, but it cast a shadow over the final decade of his rule and limited his horizons. Finally on Apr. 11 2019, following massive protests and a final push from one of the regime’s external patrons - an interesting precedent! - the tyrant’s political career was brought to an end in a military coup.
The second guideline is to fully support Syrian society. That is very difficult when it comes to the society inside the country, where eighty percent of Syrians are living in abject poverty. We must demand UN and European agencies to redouble their support for average Syrians, including in areas under the regime, but without coming to terms with the Assadist apparatchiks or allowing them to turn international aid to their own profit, as is currently the case.
Is there not a contradiction in wanting to help the Syrian people survive and imposing the tough sanctions of the Caesar Act? The answer is no: Assad is responsible for the disastrous state of his country - not international sanctions. Moreover, the Caesar sanctions were designed to hit the leaders and not the people.
Then there are Syrians in diaspora, who now outnumber those remaining inside the country. The Europeans should do more to ease the hardships of Syrians living in camps and elsewhere in neighbouring countries; they must support the opening of schools and award grants to allow young refugees to study. The European Union and member states must also ensure the proper integration of millions of Syrian refugees in Europe, whilst encouraging them to remain loyal to their country of origin.
It has been said before that the opposition’s key defeat was in losing the narrative, while Assad’s principal victory was in the war of propaganda. This, too, can - and already is - being reversed. Much in Western Syria has been seen through the distorting prism of the security services, portraying Syrians as an indiscriminate mass of fanatical terrorists. Now that Syrian refugees live among us, another image is taking shape, as evidenced in Germany, and also in the American think-tank ecosystem. The Syrians among us most often integrate without difficulty, showing great courage in adversity. Many are successful - as Syrians elsewhere have always succeeded abroad. They are open and intelligent people of exceptional resilience.
My feelings in a few words? We must ensure Assad does not escape international pariah status and fully support Syrian society. The rest will follow.
Copyright: LOUAI BESHARA / AFP | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 47 | https://www.ifimes.org/en/researches/syria-between-oppression-and-freedom/3325 | en | Syria: Between oppression and freedom | [
"https://www.ifimes.org/img/ifi.jpg",
"https://www.ifimes.org/img/ifi.jpg"
] | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [] | null | The International Institute for Middle-East and Balkan Studies (IFIMES) in Ljubljana, Slovenia, regularly analyses events in the Middle East and the Balkans. IFIMES has analysed current events in Syria with an emphasis on the beginning of mass protests against the ruling regime. The most relevant and interesting sections from the analysis entitled “SYRIA: BETWEEN OPPRESSION AND FREEDOM” are published below. | https://www.ifimes.org/en/researches/syria-between-oppression-and-freedom/3325 | SYRIA:
BETWEEN OPPRESSION AND FREEDOM
Syria, which is 185,180 km² large and has 17,585,540 inhabitants (according to data collected in 2002), is the sixth Middle Eastern country to experience a beginning of an uprising against the second biggest tyrant in the Middle East (after the Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein), namely Bashar Al-Assad. The uprising began accidentally on 18th March 2011 in a city named Daraa in the south of Syria, very close to Jordanian border, when the secret police arrested some children between the ages of 13 and 14, who were singing songs from the Egyptian uprising. The parents of the arrested children came to the police station and demanded their children be set free and consequently the demonstrations spread across the whole city. The safety authorities started shooting the demonstrators after they had burned down the seat of the ruling party and destroyed the monument of Hafez Al-Assad, both being the obnoxious symbols of a totalitarian regime. It happened exactly the same way as in Iraq eight years ago, when the Americans took over Baghdad on that same day and destroyed the monument of Saddam Hussein in the city centre a few weeks later.
The demonstrations spread from Daraa to Damascus, the capital. Unlike in other Arab uprisings, the activists from Facebook and Twitter haven't managed to gather enough protesters on the streets of Syrian cities. The demonstrations continue in limited numbers, with security forces constantly intervening and settling issues with the demonstrators in an aggressive and bloody manner.
The crucial question, which is constantly arising these days is: why didn't the young activists and the opposition manage to gather a larger number of Syrian citizens to take part in these protests?
In our opinion there are three factors, which could provide us with a partial answer. These factors are: oppression and fear, utilitarian and self-interest and the international context.
OPPRESSION AND FEAR
Oppression and fear with repression are methods of governance of the authoritarian tyrannical regimes in the Arab world, while the Syrian regime is one of the most authoritarian in the world. This regime is a blend of the well-known regimes in North Korea and Iran. The ruling party called Baath is, similarly as in North Korea, implanted in every segment of the society. The Shia Alawite minority, from which stems the Al-Assad dynasty has occupied the most important positions in the party and in the country for 40 years, the country where the extraordinary circumstances have been going on since 1963.
The security services are "the backbone" of the regime, while the partisan militia, the police and the army perform executive tasks. According to some data the percentage of the employees in the Syrian security services is one among the highest in the world, namely one member of the security services per 158 citizens. This number doesn't include various party colleagues, who have to regularly monitor and spy after their colleagues and neighbours on the behest of their superiors, regardless of their employment (health, universities, industry, etc.). They have to record all events in their weekly reports, which have to be regularly submitted to their superiors.
In the eighties, the regime confronted its opponents with tanks and rockets. The attack on Hama, the centre of Sunni Muslim fraternities, in 1982 is well known. 38.000 inhabitants of Hama lost their lives in this attack (Robert Fisk - The Independent). In the attack on the desert prison Tadmur (Palmyra) in 1980, 2000 prisoners were killed, whereas the same number of people lost their lives during the attack on the largest city in Syria, Aleppo. In the book called Human Rights Watch (HRW), entitled "Syria exposed", this period is called the period of great oppression, because in the world of modern contemporary communications, no such massacres can be hidden.
The regime was contented with the policy of sticks and carrots. The police arrested all the symbols and leaders of the political movements and non-governmental organizations, they shut down the internet forums, prohibited the activists to travel abroad and used other methods of harassment and intimidation.
UTILITARIAN AND SELF-INTEREST FACTOR
The utilitarian and self-interest factor is the second biggest obstacle besides oppression and fear. There are three groups of self-interest individuals. The first group are the powerful and influential people in the party and in the army, who linked their destiny to the destiny of Al-Assad dynasty. The second group is the economic mafia, which is connected with the relatives of the president and also with the first group. They control the larger state-owned and private companies in the fields of telecommunications, trade and energy. The third group comprises members of some other minorities, such as the Christian community, which is being constantly intimidated by the Islamic extremists coming to power in the case of the fall of the regime.
THE INTERNATIONAL CONTEXT
The international context is the third most important factor, which is keeping the regime afloat. The question is how the regime became such an important regional factor that the American and other Western diplomats so frequently visit Damascus to seek advice there? The Americans and the West are very well aware of the fact that the regime supports and gives shelter to the extreme organizations such as Hamas and Hezbollah, also being an ally of Iran, which is constantly defying the international community, that it is accused of destabilization of Lebanon, since 2003 it has opened its "hermetic" borders with Iraq and thus facilitated the transfer of the terrorists and extremists to Iraq, so they can perform deadly suicidal attacks on coalition forces and Iraqi civilians, while its border with Israel on the occupied Golan heights one of the most peaceful in the world. Strangely enough, Syria is the only country bordering Israel, which has been at war with Israel since 1948. Syria has been developing a nuclear programme, which was bombed and destroyed by Israel, and there are several other contradictory actions that are in opposition with the international law.
The answer to the question about the important role of Syria in the region is that the regime evaded and misled the international community. In the time of the war against terrorism in 2001 the regime played a dual role and provided intelligence data about terrorist groups and individuals in the Middle East. The USA was very grateful to the Syrian authorities until the arrival of the Americans in Iraq in 2003, when the fear arose that Damascus was the next stop of the American policy of introducing democracy with force in the Middle East, after Baghdad. The regime has played a central role in exporting the terrorists to Iraq.
The policy of Syria towards Lebanon, which was under Syrian domination for several years was disastrous. Syria was an important actor in the Lebanese civil war in 1975-1990. An example of bold meddling into Lebanese inner affairs was, for example, the insistence of president Bashar Al-Assad on mandate extension of the Lebanese President Emil Lahud in 2004, despite the fact that all Lebanese parties were against it.
The highlight of interference in internal affairs was the Syrian role in the assassination of Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri on 14th February 2005, which led to the Syrian intelligence service being accused by the international investigators. This was followed by resolution no. UN 1559, which requires Syria to withdraw its troops situated in Lebanon since 1975. It's only then that Syria first experienced the isolation by the U.S., which recalled its ambassador from Syria. This was repeated by other Western and Arab countries.
Syrian isolation did not last long. In early 2007, the region developed new facts that were in favour of Syria: the failure of the Israeli attack on Lebanese Hezbollah in 2006, Iraq before the civil war between Shiites and Sunnis in 2007, and the direct failure of American efforts to introduce democracy to Iraq and the failure Israeli campaign against Hamas in Gaza in 2009.
The Syrian regime has become a regional winner in early 2010. Turkey has played an important role in the return of Syria to the international arena. The latter has accepted Turkey's role as a mediator to continue the indirect Syrian-Israeli peace negotiations. The USA have appointed a new ambassador in Damascus.
Now, when the bloody confrontation of the regime with its own people is taking place, there is no interest in the West to help the Syrian people. Israel's security is crucial for Western tolerance towards the Syrian regime - after the fall of Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak the Israeli - Egyptian border has become questionable once again, as well as the Egypt peace treaty with Israel. In Jordan, Islamist held demonstrations that are threatening the stable Kingdom are taking place. Jordan ratified a peace treaty with Israel in 1994. Hamas is constantly rocketing Israel. The only peaceful border with Israel is Syria, that's why the West does not want to interfere in "internal" Syrian affairs. Time is sensitive, possibly because of the failure of western operations in Libya (Odysseus dawn), which is an additional reason to keep Western powers at hand in terms of Syria.
OPPOSITION PARTIES IN SYRIA
Syria's political map contains several political parties. A part of the opposition operates within the regime's National Progressive Front (NPF), while the other opposition parties suffer from a number of regime's restrictions and repression. Some operate from abroad.
Among the most important opposition political parties in Syria include:
1. Communist Party, formed in 1924. Its leader, 80-year-old Riyadh Al-Turk, who spent more time in prison than in liberty. He is called by some the Nelson Mandela of Syria.
2. The Muslim Brotherhoods Movement was founded in 1942 and stems from the Muslim Brotherhood of Egypt, which was founded in 1928. Until 1962 it participated in several governments. Former President Hafez Al-Assad has banned its operation in 1980. After the Israeli action in Gaza in 2009, the movement cancelled their opposition to the regime and has since then been in a passive opposition.
3. The Front of the National Solution was founded in Brussels in 2006 in the presence of former Vice President Abdul Halima Khaddama, who resigned in 2005 and emigrated to Paris. Also the leaders of the Muslim Brotherhoods Movement and some other leftist and liberal groups were present at the Brussels meeting.
4. The Justice and Construction Movement was founded in 2006 in London. Analysts share the opinion that the movement is the only one acceptable for all Syrian ethnic and religious groups. The movement demands a peaceful transfer of power, preparation for democratic elections and the return of all exiles, as well as the amnesty of political prisoners.
5. ISLAH - this reform party was founded in the U.S. after 11 September 2001. Its leader is controversial Farid Ghadry, who has dual Syrian - American citizenship. The party has close contacts with American neoconservatives and the Jewish Lobby. It demands the overthrow of the regime by the U.S. following the Iraqi model.
6. The Arab Socialist Movement was founded in 1954. Today it is divided into two parts. Part of it is under the leadership of Abdel Ghani Ayyasha, who cooperates with the government.
7. The Arab Socialist Union
8. The Revolutionary Workers' Party
9. The Communist Workers' Party
10. The party of Modernization and Democracy is a liberal party of Syrian Kurds, which was founded in 1996,
11. Kurdish Democratic Party was founded in 1970.
Regime National Progressive front (FNP) was established on 7 March 1972 by the ruling Baath Party and other six satellite parties. Their role is to confirm the regime policy. In the constituting article of the FNP it is clear that the Baath Party leads the country and the society.
The parties constituting the FNP are:
1. The Arab Socialist Baath Party founded on 7 April 1947;
2. Dissident fraction of the Communist Party of Syria;
3. Arab Socialist Union (Nasserists) founded in 1964;
4. Arab Socialist Movement founded in 1961;
5. Arab Socialist Party;
6. The Democratic Unionist Socialist Party;
7. Arab Democratic Union Party.
International Institute IFIMES believes that the international community should react in case of Syria by putting pressure on the regime to start reforming from within. The UN can play an important role in establishing dialogue between the regime and the opposition.
The international community should avoid errors in the future. It has probably learned something from the cases of Iraq, Tunisia and Libya, where there was a collapse of the regime and consequently problems with filling the political vacuum. All the countries of the Middle East need an adequate transitional period for the preparations for the transfer of power to democratically elected representatives. Syrians and other nations in the Middle East lack experience at abolishing one-party regimes, crisis managing and disposing of residues of the dark past. | |||||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 1 | 7 | https://www.npr.org/sections/parallels/2016/05/31/480041357/once-a-national-hero-syrias-lone-cosmonaut-is-now-a-refugee-in-turkey | en | Once A National Hero, Syria's Lone Cosmonaut Is Now A Refugee In Turkey | [
"https://media.npr.org/chrome_svg/npr-logo.svg",
"https://media.npr.org/chrome/programs/logos/morning-edition.jpg",
"https://media.npr.org/assets/img/2019/02/26/we_otherentitiestemplatesat_sq-cbde87a2fa31b01047441e6f34d2769b0287bcd4-s100-c85.png",
"https://media.npr.org/assets/img/2019/02/26/we_otherentitiest... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Peter Kenyon"
] | 2016-05-31T00:00:00 | Mohammed Faris traveled to the Mir Space Station nearly three decades ago, becoming so famous that Syria's president was jealous of him. Now he's one of the many Syrians who has fled to Turkey. | en | NPR | https://www.npr.org/sections/parallels/2016/05/31/480041357/once-a-national-hero-syrias-lone-cosmonaut-is-now-a-refugee-in-turkey | More than 2 million Syrians have fled to Turkey, driven out by the fighting that erupted in their homeland in 2011. But none can claim an odyssey quite like that of Mohammed Faris.
As Syria's first and only cosmonaut, Mohammed Faris rocketed into orbit with two Soviet colleagues in 1987. He conducted experiments and photographed his country from space. By the time he returned to Syria, most everyone in the country knew his name.
Yet Faris is now a refugee himself, fleeing to Turkey after speaking out against the government's efforts to crush the 2011 uprising. He ended up in Istanbul, much better off than most, but a refugee all the same.
Faris' jet black mustache is showing some gray as he welcomes visitors to his son's office in Istanbul. The 65-year-old still has the trim build of a former fighter pilot, though, and he's easily recognizable as the astronaut in the painting that hangs on the wall.
After his trip to the Mir Space Station nearly three decades ago, Faris returned to national acclaim.
He received the "Hero of Syria" award from the late President Hafez Assad. He says he soon learned that it wasn't a good idea to upstage the ruling family.
"Hafez al-Assad, dictator, said, 'Mohammed, sit down in your house!' recalls Faris. For eight years he collected his pay as a Syrian general, but didn't work. All, he says, because Assad couldn't stand for any Syrian to be as famous as himself.
A Fan Of Russians, But Not Of Putin
As someone who lived in Russia for two years while he trained for his mission, Faris remains fond of the Russian people. He's stunned, however, by what he's seeing the Russian and Syrian militaries doing to his country today.
"I like the Russians, but I'm very upset with the dictator (Vladimir) Putin," he says. "How can he destroy children's houses, slaughter civilians?"
Faris says the Russian leader "thinks he can do to us what he did in Chechnya — the big dictator is helping the little dictator."
By "the little dictator," Faris means Hafez Assad's son and successor Bashar Assad, who responded with force to a 2011 uprising that was initially nonviolent. That soon led to a civil war, he adds.
Before fleeing Syria in 2012, Faris says he saw firsthand the carnage inflicted by the Syrian air force.
"As a fighter pilot, I know they can't distinguish between military and civilian targets, men from women and children," he says. "How can they do such things?"
Faris places primary blame for the war with the government in Damascus. But he says the attempt for a pro-democracy revolution has been betrayed at every turn by many countries, from the U.S. and Israel, to Europe, the Gulf Arab states and Russia.
Impossible though it may seem, he says getting back to Syria remains his wish.
"I have hope of returning," he says. "We are all doomed to hope, as they say, and so I hope to see my home again."
Faris has made a life of sorts in Istanbul. He lectures in schools and at conferences, and his son manages a language school.
When he talks to students, he tries to pass on some of the wonder and excitement he felt as a boy dreaming of space travel. He never fails to mention the feeling he got when he first saw Earth from space.
"There's nothing more beautiful than the Earth," he says. "I've seen it; it's our mother and it deserves to be kept in peace. I've said it many times, and I will always say it: Earth is so very beautiful, and it should be saved." | |||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 2 | 51 | https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/civil-war-in-syria/alassad-system/6315B2709202AEC8297716153E759BC5 | en | Assad System (Chapter 1) | [
"https://www.cambridge.org/core/cambridge-core/public/images/icn_circle__btn_close_white.svg",
"https://www.cambridge.org/core/cambridge-core/public/images/logo_core.png",
"https://www.cambridge.org/core/cambridge-core/public/images/logo_core.svg",
"https://www.cambridge.org/core/cambridge-core/public/images/... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Adam Baczko",
"Gilles Dorronsoro",
"Arthur Quesnay"
] | null | Civil War in Syria - February 2018 | en | /core/cambridge-core/public/images/favicon.ico | Cambridge Core | https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/civil-war-in-syria/alassad-system/6315B2709202AEC8297716153E759BC5 | To save this book to your Kindle, first ensure coreplatform@cambridge.org is added to your Approved Personal Document E-mail List under your Personal Document Settings on the Manage Your Content and Devices page of your Amazon account. Then enter the ‘name’ part of your Kindle email address below. Find out more about saving to your Kindle.
Note you can select to save to either the @free.kindle.com or @kindle.com variations. ‘@free.kindle.com’ emails are free but can only be saved to your device when it is connected to wi-fi. ‘@kindle.com’ emails can be delivered even when you are not connected to wi-fi, but note that service fees apply. | ||||
wrong_mix_property_leader_00031 | FactBench | 0 | 67 | https://www.hrw.org/report/2010/07/16/wasted-decade/human-rights-syria-during-bashar-al-asads-first-ten-years-power | en | A Wasted Decade | https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/favicon.ico | https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/favicon.ico | [
"https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/styles/480w/public/media/images/photographs/tmp_cBrIi7?itok=cwSzjmrY 75w, /sites/default/files/styles/embed_xxl/public/media/images/photographs/tmp_cBrIi7?itok=2vV0UNwE 946w",
"https://www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/styles/480w/public/media/images/photographs/tmp_LLTr9p?i... | [] | [] | [
""
] | null | [
"Nadim Houry"
] | 2010-07-16T00:00:00 | This 35-page report reviews al-Asad's human rights record in five key areas: repression of political and human rights activism; restrictions on freedom of expression; torture; treatment of the Kurds; and Syria's legacy of enforced disappearances. The verdict is bleak. | en | /sites/default/files/favicon.ico | Human Rights Watch | https://www.hrw.org/report/2010/07/16/wasted-decade/human-rights-syria-during-bashar-al-asads-first-ten-years-power | Executive Summary
After Bashar al-Asad succeeded his father as president in July 2000, many people in Syria hoped that the human rights situation would improve. In his first inaugural speech on July 17, al-Asad spoke of the need for “creative thinking,” “the desperate need for constructive criticism,” “transparency,” and “democracy.”[1] A human rights lawyer summed up his initial feelings on the succession, reflecting the mood and aspirations of many others in the country: “Bashar’s inaugural speech provided a space for hope following the totalitarian years of President [Hafez] Asad. It was as if a nightmare was removed.”[2]
Ten years later, these initial hopes remain unfulfilled, and al-Asad’s words have not translated into any kind of government action to promote criticism, transparency, or democracy. This report reviews Syria’s human rights situation in five key areas and proposes concrete recommendations to the Syrian President that are essential to improving Syria’s human rights record.
The Damascus Spring that followed al-Asad’s ascent to power, during which a number of informal groups began meeting in private homes to discuss political reform, was a short-lived experiment; its highpoint was the shutting down of Mazzeh prison in November 2000 and the release of hundreds of political prisoners shortly thereafter. It came to an abrupt end in August 2001; Syria’s prisons are filled again with political prisoners, journalists, and human rights activists (Annex 1 lists 92 political and human rights activists detained since al-Asad’s ascent to power).
Syria’s opaque decision-making process and the lack of public information on policy debates within the regime make it very difficult to know the real reasons that drove Bashar al-Asad to loosen some of the existing restrictions early on, only to clamp down a few months later and to maintain a tight grip ever since. Was al-Asad a true reformer who did not have the capacity early in his reign to take on an entrenched “old guard” that refused any political opening? If so, why has he not implemented these reforms in the ensuing years after he had consolidated his power base and named his own people to key positions? Or was al-Asad’s talk of reform a mere opportunistic act to gain popularity and legitimacy that he never intended to translate into real changes?
There is not enough publicly available information to answer these questions definitively. However, it is clear that after a decade in power, Bashar al-Asad has not taken the steps necessary to truly improve his country’s human rights record. He has focused his efforts on opening up the economy without broadening public freedoms or establishing public institutions that are accountable for their actions. So while visitors to Damascus are likely to stay in smart boutique hotels and dine in shiny new restaurants, ordinary Syrians continue to risk jail merely for criticizing their president, starting a blog, or protesting government policies.
The state of emergency, enacted in 1963, remains in place, and the government continues to rule by emergency powers. Syria’s security agencies, the feared mukhabarat, continue to detain people without arrest warrants, frequently refuse to disclose their whereabouts for weeks and sometimes months, and regularly engage in torture. Special courts set up under Syria’s emergency laws, such as the Supreme State Security Court (SSSC), sentence people following unfair trials. Syria is still a de facto single-party state with only the Ba`ath Party holding effective power.
Bashar al-Asad has permitted Syrians to access the internet but his security services detain bloggers and censor popular websites such as Facebook, YouTube, and Blogger (Google’s blogging engine). On September 22, 2001, one year after al-Asad assumed power, the Syrian government adopted a new Press Law (Decree No. 50/2001), which provided the government with sweeping controls over newspapers, magazines, and other periodicals, as well as virtually anything else printed in Syria, from books to pamphlets and posters.
Despite statements by First Lady Asma al-Asad in January 2010 that the government “wanted to open more space for civil society to work,” Syria’s security services continue to deny registration requests for independent non-governmental organizations and none of Syria’s human rights groups are licensed.
The Kurdish minority, estimated to be 10 percent of the population, is denied basic group rights, including the right to learn Kurdish in schools or celebrate Kurdish festivals, such as Nowruz (Kurdish New Year). Official repression of Kurds increased further after Syrian Kurds held large-scale demonstrations, some violent, throughout northern Syria in March 2004 in order to voice long-simmering grievances. Since then, security forces have dispersed Kurdish political and cultural gatherings, sometimes with lethal force, and have detained a number of leading Kurdish political activists, who they have referred to military courts or the SSSC for prosecution under charges of “inciting strife,” or “weakening national sentiment.” Despite repeated promises by al-Asad, an estimated 300,000 stateless Kurds are still waiting for the Syrian government to solve their predicament by granting them citizenship. Most of these had their Syrian citizenship stripped by the Syrian government after an exceptional census in 1962 or are their descendants.
Promises by al-Asad for new laws that would broaden political and civil society participation have not materialized. In March 2005 he promised while speaking to Spanish journalists that “the coming period will be one of freedom for political parties in Syria.”[4] In June 2005 the Ba`ath Party Congress recommended the establishment of a new political party law that would allow the creation of new non-ethnic and non-religious political parties.[5] To date, no new draft law has been officially introduced.
Repression in Syria today may be less severe than during Syria’s darks years in the early 1980s, when security forces carried out large-scale disappearances and extrajudicial killings. But that is hardly an achievement or measure of improvement given the different circumstances. As a prominent dissident told Human Rights Watch recently, “In the 1980s, we went to jail without trial. Now, we get a trial, but we still go to jail.”[6]
In public interviews and speeches, al-Asad has justified the lack of political reforms by either arguing that his priority is economic reform, or by stating that regional circumstances have interfered with his reform agenda. In his second inaugural speech in July 2007, following an endorsement for a second term with 97.6 percent of the vote, al-Asad noted that:
Numerous circumstances hindered some of the political developments which we wanted to achieve. Our supreme objective, amidst the chaos certain parties have been exporting to our region—and which surrounds us now—was to preserve the safety and security of our citizens and maintain the stability our people enjoys.[7]
While there is no doubt that Syria has faced numerous foreign policy challenges in the last decade, from the US invasion of Iraq in 2003 to Syria’s forced withdrawal from Lebanon in 2005 and its subsequent isolation by Western powers, these do not explain, let alone justify, the Syrian government’s repressive behavior toward its own citizens.
A review of Syria’s record shows a consistent policy of repressing dissent regardless of international or regional developments. Al-Asad’s crackdown on dissidents began in August 2001, before the United States invaded Iraq, and continued throughout the decade, irrespective of the state of Syria’s relations with the international community. Syria’s emergence from its Western-imposed isolation since 2007 has not improved the situation for Syria’s political and human rights activists.
In March 2007, the European Union reopened its dialogue with Damascus, after it had suspended talks on an EU association agreement in 2005 following the murder of Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik Hariri. The US followed suit, with House of Representatives Speaker Nancy Pelosi meeting al-Asad in Damascus in April 2007, followed by a visit to Syria in May 2007 by Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice. Yet, in May 2007, Syrian courts sentenced leading dissident Kamal Labwani and prominent political writer Michel Kilo to long jail terms for their peaceful activities, only weeks after jailing human rights lawyer Anwar al-Bunni.
More recently, Europe’s, and particularly France’s, extensive engagement with Syria following al-Asad’s visit to Paris in July 2008 has not eased Syria’s repression of human rights activism. On July 28, 2009, the government detained Muhanad al-Hasani, a human rights lawyer and the foremost monitor of the State Security Court. Three months later, on October 14, 2009, it detained Haytham al-Maleh, 78, a human rights lawyer who criticized the regime’s policies on an opposition TV station.
Writing ten years ago in June 2000, Riad al-Turk, a prominent Syrian opposition leader and the former secretary general of the Syrian Communist Party (Political Bureau), asked in an article whether Syria will remain a “Kingdom of Silence”—a country where criticism of government policies is banned. His question still resonates today. Without reform in the five areas outlined in this report, al-Asad’s legacy will merely extend that of his father: government by repression.
I. Repression of Political and Human Rights Activism
In the early months of his rule, Bashar al-Asad emphasized the principle of openness. Sensing a possible opportunity, many political and human rights activists began to raise their voices to demand the introduction of greater freedoms and political reforms in Syria. A number of informal groups began meeting in private homes to discuss human rights and reform efforts. The authorities allowed these forums to take place, leading to a period of relative openness often referred to as the “Damascus Spring.” By early 2001, 21 such informal groups functioned across Syria.[8]
However, al-Asad’s brief promotion of tolerance came to an abrupt end. On January 29, 2001, Syrian Information Minister Adnan `Omran declared that civil society is an “American term” that had recently been given “additional meanings” by “groups that seek to become (political) parties.”[9] A month later, al-Asad repeated the warnings to the civil society movement:
When the consequences of an action affect the stability of the homeland, there are two possibilities: either the perpetrator is a foreign agent acting on behalf of an outside power, or else he is a simple person acting unintentionally. But in both cases a service is being done to the country’s enemies, and consequently both are dealt with in a similar fashion, irrespective of their intentions or motives.[10]
The crackdown began in August 2001. On August 9 the security services detained Ma’mun al-Homsi, a deputy in the People’s Assembly known for his criticism of the regime. Subsequent arrests of prominent political and rights activists soon followed, and within a month, Syrian authorities had arrested 10 opposition leaders, including two members of parliament, and cracked down on civil society advocacy groups. The two lawmakers, al-Homsi and Seif, were convicted of “attempting to change the constitution by illegal means” and “inciting racial and sectarian strife,” and sentenced by the Damascus Criminal Court to five years in jail. The other eight activists, Riad al-Turk, `Aref Dalilah, Walid al-Bunni, Kamal al-Labwani, Habib Salih, Hasan Sa`dun, Habib `Isa, and Fawwaz Tello, were referred to the Supreme State Security Court, which issued prison sentences of between two to ten years.[11]
There is virtually no information from Syria to explain why al-Asad initially promised an expansion of freedom only to subsequently reverse his policy. Al-Asad may have feared that what he had planned as a controlled and superficial opening would gain momentum and translate into a wider challenge to his regime. Some analysts argued that by demanding free elections, opposition members and civil society activists had directly challenged a yet-untested al-Asad which forced him to clamp down.[12] Other analysts focused on the role of the “old guard” that surrounded al-Asad, who never looked kindly on any political opening that could challenge their authority. In the words of Eyal Zisser, author of multiple books on Syria, “the old guard forced him [al-Asad] to reverse gears” and pushed him into “leading a counterattack against the supporters of reform.”[13] Regardless of the underlying reasons, the crackdown on the Damascus Spring in the absence of any real threat to the regime seems to indicate that al-Asad was not truly committed to political reforms.
Since then, the Syrian authorities have regularly detained political and human rights activists. Human Rights Watch has documented the arrest of at least 92 political and human rights activists since al-Asad came to power (See Annex 1). However, the actual number is likely much higher, given that it is hard to obtain information about the detention of less prominent political activists, especially Kurds and Islamists.
In detaining and prosecuting activists, Syrian authorities rely on the emergency law, which gives the security services broad powers of arrest, as well as broadly worded “security” provisions in Syria’s Penal Code, such as “issuing calls that weaken national sentiment or awaken racial or sectarian tensions while Syria is at war or is expecting a war” (Article 285 of Syrian Penal Code), “spreading false or exaggerated information that weakens national sentiment while Syria is at war or is expecting a war” (Article 286 of Syrian Penal Code), or undertaking “acts, writings or speech that incite sectarian, racial, or religious strife” (Article 307 of Syrian Penal Code).
Arrests and trials are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to Syria’s harassment of dissidents. Syrian security services routinely prohibit or interrupt meetings and press conferences by political activists, civil society, and human rights groups.[16]
The Syrian Bar Association has also harassed human rights lawyers by initiating disciplinary measures to disbar lawyers who criticize the government or the president’s policies. On November 10, 2009, the bar association’s disciplinary tribunal issued a decision to permanently disbar Muhanad al-Hasani, President of the Syrian Human Rights Organization (Swasiah), because he “headed an unlicensed human rights organization without obtaining the prior approval of the bar association” and “attended sessions of the State Security Court to monitor its proceedings without being appointed as a defense lawyer by the accused.”[17]
Syrian authorities also use travel bans as punishment for activists and dissidents. The use of such bans has expanded dramatically since 2006. The Syrian Center for Media and Freedom of Expression, an unlicensed non-governmental organization (NGO), issued a report in February 2009 listing 417 political and human rights activists banned from traveling. In some cases, the ban extended to the families of the activists.[18] The International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), which Syria ratified in 1969, requires all states to ensure that everyone has the right to leave any country, including their own. The only permissible restrictions are those “provided by law” and that “are necessary to protect national security, public order (ordre public), public health or morals or the rights and freedoms of others, and are consistent with the other rights recognized in the present Covenant” (including the right to freedom of expression and association).[19] In this case, the bans imposed on these activists are tied simply to their political expression, and not based on any defined security interests.
Syrian authorities deny all requests by human rights groups to register, and accordingly none are officially authorized to exist. The main impediments to their registration is the 1958 Law on Associations and Private Societies (Law No. 93), which governs the establishment of any type of association or organization in Syria and authorizes the security services to refuse the registration request of these groups.[20] The systematic denial of registration of human rights groups has direct negative implications on their activities, allowing the government to arrest members for participation in an “illegal organization,” and to ban meetings or events. A human rights lawyer told Human Rights Watch that the “lack of registration is like a sword over our necks. The mukhabarat [secret services] can act on it whenever they want.”[21]
In 2005 the Ministry of Social Affairs and Labor, the ministry officially responsible for administering Law No. 93, said that it would review the law with an eye toward liberalizing its provisions.[22] However, the drive to reform the existing law came to a complete stop shortly thereafter, without any explanation. Were the Syrian authorities responding to outside pressure to open up, or were there elements inside the government pushing for reforms? Syria’s opaque politics and lack of public debate about policy choices make it impossible to really know what drove these decisions.
Five years later, First Lady Asma al-Asad opened a conference in Damascus in January 2010 by declaring that the state “wanted to open more space for civil society to work, develop and partner with the government and implement development-oriented policies.” She said, “We will learn from our mistakes and a law will be passed soon—after consultation with civil society—to provide non-governmental organizations (NGOs) the safeguards they need to operate effectively.”[23] However, no draft law has been made public, and it is not clear whether the Syrian authorities will allow independent and human rights NGOs to officially register or whether they will limit any easing of the law to NGOs that assist the government in its “development-oriented policies.”
The combination of these laws and practices has kept Syria’s human rights activists in constant fear of being detained. As one human rights lawyer told Human Rights Watch recently, “I cannot go on like this. I keep getting called in for interrogation. Every time I go, I don’t know if I will be detained or not.”[24]
Political activists in Syria are also still awaiting a new law for political parties following al-Asad’s March 2005 declaration to a group of Spanish journalists that “the coming period will be one of freedom for political parties” in Syria.”[25] In June 2005, the Ba`ath Party Congress recommended the passing of a new political party law that would allow the creation of non-ethnic and non-religious political parties.[26] However, to date, there is still no new draft law for the creation of political parties.
Accordingly, we urge President al-Asad to:
Lift the state of emergency and repeal Syria’s Emergency Law. The continued application of the Emergency Law since 1963 violates the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), to which Syria is a party. The Syrian government has failed to show that the state of emergency is strictly necessary for its security. Release all individuals currently deprived of their liberty for peacefully exercising their right to freedom of expression, association, or assembly.
Order the security services to cease detaining activists and banning them from traveling abroad merely for exercising their legitimate right to freedom of expression and association.
Enact a political parties law in compliance with international human rights norms, and establish an independent electoral commission to register new political parties.
Amend the 1958 Law on Associations and Private Societies (Law No. 93) to ensure that groups formed for any legal purpose are allowed to acquire legal personality by making registration of associations automatic once these associations fulfill the formal requirements and by abolishing penalties for participation in unregistered associations if such associations are not otherwise breaking the law.
II. Restrictions on Freedom of Expression
The Ba`ath party banned all independent publications after it came to power in 1963, and for the following 40 years only three newspapers existed in Syria, all of which were affiliated with the party: al-Ba`ath (the party’s official mouthpiece since 1947), al-Thawra (a 1963 Ba`ath daily meaning “revolution”), and Tishreen (a 1973 Ba`ath daily).[27]
After Bashar al-Asad assumed power, he removed the outright ban on independent publications, but introduced a new Press Law (Decree No. 50/2001), promulgated on September 22, 2001, which provided the government with sweeping control over newspapers, magazines, and other periodicals, as well as virtually anything else printed in Syria, from books to pamphlets and posters. Provisions apply to publishers, editors, journalists, authors, printers, distributors, and bookstore owners, and subject them to imprisonment and steep fines for violations of the law.[28]
Initially, the authorities mostly granted licenses to economic and cultural publications, or to political newspapers issued by individuals or parties close to the Ba`ath party, such as the Communist Party which received a license to publish a weekly entitled Sawt al-Shaab (Voice of the People) in February 2001.[29] The most promising development was the granting that same month of a license to Addomari (the Lamp Lighter), a satirical publication published by renowned Syrian cartoonist Ali Farzat. The newspaper was an instant success as it was the first Syrian newspaper in 40 years that printed something different from the views of the Ba`ath party or those of its close allies. With a circulation of 75,000, it sold many times more than the three “official” dailies, but the government closed it down in 2003 after officials told its founder, Ali Farzat, that he “went too far.”[30] His publication had criticized Saddam Hussein by showing him and his generals stuffing the Iraqi people as cannon fodder in the face of the impending US invasion, at a time when the Syrian government’s policy was to oppose the invasion of Iraq.[31]
Censorship remains widespread. The Arab Establishment for Distribution of Printed Products, which is affiliated with the Ministry of Information, vets all newspapers prior to distribution. Syria’s two private daily newspapers covering political topics that have succeeded in staying open are owned by businessmen closely tied to the regime: al-Watan, launched in November 2006, is a daily political newspaper widely reported to be published by President al-Asad’s cousin, Rami Makhlouf; Baladna, a social affairs newspaper, is published by Majd Suleiman, son of security chief General Bahjat Suleiman.[32]
On July 13, 2005, Nizar Mayhoob, a spokesman for the Syrian Ministry of Information, told Human Rights Watch that Syria would issue a new media law, “which will enhance the [press] law issued in 2001 by overcoming its inadequacies.” Al-Asad himself, in his second inaugural speech on July 18, 2007, noted that:
On the media law, the subject has been raised many times. There is a recent proposal by the Ministry of Information on the need to amend the media law. I heard many complaints from journalists and others that they are not happy with the existing law. There could be proposals from the Ministry of Information in this regard which could be studied by the People’s Assembly, and the law could be passed.[33]
As of July 6, 2010, no new law had been introduced and there is still no independent press in Syria.
Instead, the government has extended restrictions it imposes on print media to online outlets, reversing early hopes that al-Asad’s role as chairman of the Syrian Computer Society (SCS) prior to his appointment as president would make him more receptive to freedom of expression online. OpenNet Initiative, a partnership of four leading universities in the US, Canada, and the UK, which monitors government filtration and surveillance of the internet, says that filtering of political websites in Syria is “pervasive.” Internet censorship extends to popular websites such as Blogger (Google’s blogging engine), Facebook, and YouTube.[34]
The authorities have also prosecuted journalists, bloggers, and citizens who dare criticize the authorities or the president. The vast majority of journalists and bloggers have been tried before the State Security Court (SSSC), an exceptional court with almost no procedural guarantees. In 2009, the Committee to Protect Journalists named Syria number three on a list of the ten worst countries in which to be a blogger based on the arrests, harassments, and restrictions that online writers in Syria have faced.[35] Human Rights Watch found that between January 2007 and June 2008, the SSSC sentenced at least 10 writers and bloggers who had criticized the authorities, and that overall the court convicted 153 defendants on the basis of overbroad security provisions (described in Section 1 above) that violate basic rights to freedom of expression. In one case, the SSSC sentenced Muhamad Walid al-Husseini, 67, to three years in prison because a member of the security services overheard him insult the Syrian president and criticize the country’s corruption while sitting at a popular café in Syria.[36]
Table 1. Known Journalists and Bloggers Detained During Bashar al-Asad’s First Decade in Power[37]
Accordingly, we urge President Bashar al-Asad to:
Immediately and unconditionally release all those imprisoned or detained solely for exercising their right to free expression, online or otherwise.
Stop blocking websites for their content.
Introduce a new media law that would remove all prison penalties for defamation and libel; stop government censorship of local and foreign publications; and remove government control over newspapers and other publications.
Amend or abolish the vague provisions of the Syrian Penal Code that permit the authorities to arbitrarily suppress and punish individuals for peaceful expression, in breach of its international legal obligations, on grounds that “national security” is being endangered, including the following provisions: Article 278 (undertaking “acts, writings, or speech unauthorized by the government that expose Syria to the danger of belligerent acts or that disrupt Syria’s ties to foreign states”), Article 285 (“issuing calls that weaken national sentiment or awaken racial or sectarian tensions while Syria is at war or is expecting a war”), Article 286 (spreading “false or exaggerated information that weaken national sentiment while Syria is at war or is expecting a war”), Article 307 (undertaking “acts, writings or speech that incite sectarian, racial or religious strife”), and Article 376 (which imposes a sentence from one to three years on anyone who insults the president).
III. Torture, Ill-Treatment, and Enforced Disappearances
Bashar al-Asad raised hopes for change with respect to the treatment of detainees when he took two significant steps: closing the Mazzeh prison in November 2000, which held numerous political prisoners, and transferring approximately 500 political detainees during July-August 2001 from the notorious Tadmor prison, in Syria’s eastern desert, to Sednaya prison, north of Damascus, which was considered to offer better facilities.
Al-Asad never explained his decision to transfer political prisoners out of Tadmor, but Syrian activists saw the move as a hopeful sign given Tadmor’s association with government repression of the 1980s. Human Rights Watch has documented extensive human rights abuse, torture, and summary executions in Tadmor prison, a facility used to detain thousands of political prisoners in the 1980s; it was also the scene in June 1980 of the extrajudicial killings of an estimated 1,000 prisoners by commando units loyal to Rif`at al-Asad, Hafez al-Asad’s brother (see more on Tadmor prison massacre in Section 5).[38] Faraj Beraqdar, a Syrian poet and five-year inmate in Tadmor, described the prison as “the kingdom of death and madness.”[39]
But while closing Tadmor prison was a promising sign of detention reform, it has not led to other positive improvements. Bashar al-Asad has done nothing to get rid of the practices of incommunicado detention, ill-treatment, and torture during interrogation, which remain common in Syria’s detention facilities.
Syria’s security services regularly hold detainees incommunicado—cut off from all contact with family, a lawyer, or any other link with the outside world— for days, months, and in some cases, years. For example, in August 2008, Syrian security forces detained a group of 13 young men from the northeastern district of Deir al-Zor suspected of having ties to Islamists. To this day, the authorities have not disclosed where they are holding at least 10 of the men, why they arrested them, or whether they will charge them and put them on trial. Prison officials returned the body of one of those detained in Deir al-Zor, Muhammad Amin al-Shawa, 43, to his family on January 10, 2009, but they allowed them to see only his face before burying him. Three Syrian human rights activists told Human Rights Watch that they believe that al-Shawa died due to torture.[40]
Human Rights Watch and other human rights groups have also documented a frequent pattern of torture and other ill‐treatment by Syria’s security services of political and human rights detainees as well as criminal suspects.[41] Out of 30 former Kurdish detainees held after 2004 and interviewed by Human Rights Watch following their release, 12 said that security forces tortured them.[42] Human Rights Watch has also documented the torture of bloggers and beatings of prominent political activists by government security agents. For example, eight of the twelve detainees from the Damascus Declaration for Democratic Change, an umbrella group of opposition and pro-democracy groups, detained in December 2007, told their investigative judge that state security agents had beaten them during detention.[43]
The UN Committee against Torture, which is tasked with monitoring compliance with the Convention against Torture, said in May 2010 that it was “deeply concerned about numerous, ongoing and consistent allegations concerning the routine use of torture by law enforcement and investigative officials…”[44] An official Canadian Commission of Inquiry into the 2002 US deportation to Syria of Maher Arar, a Syrian-born Canadian, concluded that “the SMI [Syrian Military Intelligence] tortured Mr. Arar while interrogating him during the period he was held incommunicado at the SMI’s Palestine Branch facility.”[45]
In an encouraging step in detainee practices, Bashar al-Asad’s government ratified the Convention against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment on July 1, 2004. However, it has not followed the ratification with concrete measures to end the practice of torture, such as investigations of allegations of torture or permission for independent observers to visit Syria’s prisons and detention facilities.
According to the Syrian submission to the Committee Against Torture (CAT), the Syrian Minister for Internal Affairs issued Circular No. 10 dated December 16, 2004, requesting members of the police to hold meetings to “familiarize themselves with the prohibitions on the use of violence against persons on remand and prisoners and to receive instructions on performing their duties in a responsible manner. Successful investigators can arrive at the desired result using proper scientific and technical methods to establish the facts of a case without needing to resort to illegal methods.”[46] In their submission, the Syrian delegation mentioned six cases where police were held liable for torturing people.[47]
However, such cases remain exceptions; they are limited to the police force and not the security services, which benefit from extensive legal immunity for acts of torture. Legislative Decree No. 14, of January 15, 1969, which established the General Intelligence Division (Idarat al-Mukhabaraat al-`Ama), one of Syria’s largest security apparatuses, provides that “no legal action may be taken against any employee of General Intelligence for crimes committed while carrying out their designated duties … except by an order issued by the Director.” To Human Rights Watch’s knowledge, the director of General Intelligence has issued no such order to date. On September 30, 2008, al-Asad issued Legislative Decree 69, which extended this immunity to members of other security forces, by requiring a decree from the General Command of the Army and Armed Forces to prosecute any member of the internal security forces, Political Security, and customs police.[48]
Syria’s courts continue to accept confessions obtained under torture. For example, Human Rights Watch’s review of trials in the SSSC in 2007 and 2008 revealed that 33 defendants alleged before the judge that they had been tortured and that the security services had extracted confessions from them by force, but in no case did the SSSC take any measure to open an investigation into these claims.[49]
When human rights lawyers allege that their clients have been tortured, they risk being prosecuted for “spreading false information,” a criminal charge. For example, on April 24, 2007, a Damascus criminal court sentenced human rights lawyer Anwar al-Bunni to five years in prison for alleging that a man had died in a Syrian jail because of its inhumane conditions.[50] More recently, on June 30, 2010, a Damascus criminal court sentenced another prominent human rights lawyer, Muhanad al-Hasani, to three years in prison because he publicly denounced the alleged death of a detainee under torture and criticized the SSSC.[51]
Syria’s prison facilities are still off-limits to independent observers, and Syrian authorities continue to impose a blackout on information concerning the deadly shooting of as many as 25 inmates by military police in Sednaya prison on July 5, 2008.
Accordingly, we urge President Bashar al-Asad to:
Order an independent investigation into torture allegations and make public the results of the investigation. Discipline or prosecute, as appropriate, officials responsible for the mistreatment of detainees, including those who gave orders or were otherwise complicit, and make public the results of the punishment.
Adopt effective measures to ensure that all detainees have prompt access to a lawyer and an independent medical examination.
Allow independent outside observers access to prisons and detention facilities.
Order an independent investigation into the deadly shooting of inmates by military police at Sednaya prison and make the findings public.
Ratify the Optional Protocol to the Convention against Torture (OPCAT), and invite its Subcommittee on Prevention of Torture to visit and inspect Syria’s places of detention.
IV. Repression of Kurds
Kurds are the largest non-Arab ethnic minority in Syria; estimated at approximately 1.7 million, they make up roughly 10 percent of Syria’s population. Since the 1950s, successive Syrian governments have pursued a policy of repressing Kurdish identity because they perceived it to be a threat to the unity of an Arab Syria. Under Bashar al-Asad, Syrian authorities have continued to suppress the political and cultural rights of the Kurdish minority, including banning the teaching of Kurdish in schools and regularly disrupting gatherings to celebrate Kurdish festivals such as Nowruz (the Kurdish New Year).
Harassment of Syrian Kurds increased further after they held large-scale demonstrations, some violent, throughout northern Syria in March 2004 to voice long-simmering grievances. Syrian authorities reacted to the protests with lethal force, killing at least 36 people, injuring over 160, and detaining more than 2,000, amidst widespread reports of torture and ill-treatment of detainees. Most detainees were eventually released, including 312 who were freed under an amnesty announced by al-Asad on March 30, 2005. However, since then, the Syrian government has maintained a policy of banning Kurdish political and cultural gatherings. Human Rights Watch has documented the repression of at least 14 Kurdish political and cultural gatherings since 2005. The security forces also have detained a number of leading Kurdish political activists and referred them to military courts or the SSSC for prosecution under charges of “inciting strife” or “weakening national sentiment.”[53]
In addition, large numbers of Kurds are stateless and consequently face a range of difficulties, from getting jobs and registering weddings to obtaining state services. In 1962, an exceptional census stripped some 120,000 Syrian Kurds—20 percent of the Syrian Kurdish population—of their Syrian citizenship. By many accounts, the special census was carried out in an arbitrary manner. Brothers from the same family, born in the same Syrian village, were classified differently. Fathers became foreigners while their sons remained citizens. The number of stateless Kurds grew with time as descendants of those who lost citizenship in 1962 multiplied; as a result, their number is now estimated at 300,000.[54]
Al-Asad has repeatedly promised Kurdish leaders a solution to the plight of the stateless Kurds, but a decade later, they are still waiting. He first promised to tackle the issue when he visited the largely Kurdish-populated region of al-Hasaka on August 18, 2002, and met with a number of Kurdish leaders.[55] In his second inaugural speech on July 17, 2007, he mentioned the promise he made in 2002, but noted that political developments had prevented progress in this area:
I visited al-Hasaka governorate in August 2002 and met representatives of the community there. All of them without exception talked about this issue [the 1962 census]. I told them, “we have no problem, we will start working on it.” That was the time when the United States was preparing to invade Iraq.… We started moving slowly, the Iraq war happened, and there were different circumstances which stopped many things concerning internal reform. In 2004, the riots in al-Qamishli governorate happened, and we did not exactly know the background of the riots, because some people took advantage of the events for non-patriotic purposes.… We restarted the process last year on the government’s initiative since the events have gone and it was shown that there were no non-patriotic implications.[56]
Later in his speech, al-Asad referred to a draft law that would solve the problem for some stateless Kurds, namely those who became stateless even though other members of their family obtained citizenship.[57] He concluded by saying that “the consultations continue…and when we are done with those…the law is ready.” Three years later, and despite the fact that the political justifications for the delays have long ceased to exist, there is no new law, and no steps have been taken to address Kurdish grievances.
Accordingly, we urge President Bashar al-Asad to:
Set up a commission tasked with addressing the underlying grievances of the Kurdish minority in Syria and make public the results of its findings and recommendations. The commission should include members of Syria’s Kurdish political parties.
Redress the status of all Kurds who were born in Syria but are stateless by offering citizenship to any person with strong ties to Syria by reason of birth, marriage, or long residence in the country and who is not otherwise entitled to citizenship in another country.
Identify and remove discriminatory laws and policies on Kurds, including reviewing all government decrees and directives that apply uniquely to the Kurdish minority in Syria or have a disproportionate impact on them.
Ensure that Syria’s Kurds have the right to enjoy their own culture and use their own language; likewise, ensure freedom of expression, including the right to celebrate cultural holidays and learn Kurdish in schools.
Invite the UN Independent Expert on Minority Issues to visit Syria.
V. Legacy of Enforced Disappearances
Bashar al-Asad inherited a country with a legacy of abusive practices, but to date he has not taken any concrete steps to acknowledge and address these abuses or shed light on the fate of thousands of people who have disappeared since the 1980s.
Syria’s security forces were involved in gross human rights violations in the late 1970s and 1980s in an effort to quell opposition to Hafez al-Asad’s regime, including armed opposition by certain segments of the Muslim Brotherhood. The security forces detained and tortured thousands of members of the Muslim Brotherhood, communist and other leftist parties, the Iraqi Ba`ath party, Nasserite parties, and different Palestinian groups—many of whom subsequently disappeared. While no exact figures exist, various researchers estimate the number of the disappeared to be 17,000 persons.[58] Syria’s armed forces and security services also detained and abducted Lebanese, Palestinians, and other Arab nationals during Syria’s military presence in Lebanon, hundreds of whom are still unaccounted for.
On June 27, 1980, commandos from the Defense Brigades under the command of Rif`at al-Asad, Hafez al-Asad’s brother, killed an estimated 1,000 unarmed inmates, mostly Islamists, at Tadmor military prison, in retaliation for a failed assassination attempt against Hafez al-Asad.[59] The names of those killed were never made public. Less than two years later, from February to March 1982, commandos from the Defense Brigades and units of the Special Forces circled the city of Hama, Syria’s fourth largest town and an opposition stronghold, and engaged in heavy fighting against Islamists opposed to the regime. The Syrian security troops committed large scale human rights violations during the fighting, including the killing of hundreds of people in a series of mass executions near the municipal stadium and other sites. While estimates of the number killed in Hama vary widely, the most credible reports put the number at between five and ten thousand people.[60]
Table 2. Major Incidents of Human Rights Violations in the early 1980s[61]
While many political detainees from the 1980s were released pursuant to various amnesties, some under Hafez al-Asad and others under Bashar, the fate of thousands of disappeared remains unknown, and it is still dangerous to raise these issues inside Syria.
Lebanese groups have lobbied hard to shed light on the fate of the disappeared from Lebanon. In May 2005, a joint Lebanese-Syrian committee was finally formed to address the issue. However, five years after beginning its work, it has yet to produce any concrete results or publish any findings.
Accordingly, we urge President Bashar al-Asad to:
Set up an independent national commission for truth and justice that includes representatives of the victims’ families, independent civil society activists, and international organizations with experience working on the issue of disappearances such as the ICRC. The commission’s mandate will be to resolve the issue of the missing and the disappeared in Syria, and those abducted from Lebanon and suspected of being detained in Syria.
Support the ratification of the United Nations Convention for the Protection of All Persons from Enforced Disappearances.
VI. Annex: List of Political and Human Rights Activists Detained during Bashar al-Asad’s First Decade in Power
(This is not an exhaustive list, but rather represents cases that Human Rights Watch was able to document) |