عربي English Türkçe اردو فارسى
Logo
Latest News
Features

Arafat Refused to Credit Syria for Palestinian Resistance’s ‘Victory’ against 1982 Israeli Invasion of Beirut

Arafat is seen at the frontline in Beirut’s southern suburbs. (Getty Images)
Arafat is seen at the frontline in Beirut’s southern suburbs. (Getty Images)
TT
20
TT

Arafat Refused to Credit Syria for Palestinian Resistance’s ‘Victory’ against 1982 Israeli Invasion of Beirut

Arafat is seen at the frontline in Beirut’s southern suburbs. (Getty Images)
Arafat is seen at the frontline in Beirut’s southern suburbs. (Getty Images)

The summer of 1982 was turbulent in Beirut and for the Palestinian resistance. Besieged by Israeli forces, the Palestinian resistance in the Lebanese capital realized that it had no other choice than to leave the city.

Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat realized that the time had come and he decided to leave by sea, refusing to take the Beirut-Damascus route. Four decades later, the Palestinians are still fighting for their cause to establish their own independent state. The Lebanese, meanwhile, have failed in forming their own state in spite of their success in liberating their territories from Israeli occupation.

Asharq Al-Awsat concludes on Friday a series of features highlighting the significant developments and recollections of influential players during that heated summer.

Shafik al-Wazzan

Lebanese former Prime Minister Shafik al-Wazzan believed that the Palestinian leadership knew that its time in Beirut was up from the very moment Israel besieged the city. The leadership sought to use the time it had left to make diplomatic and political gains.

The reality was that the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) could not carry on the battle forever, recalled Wazzan.

Weeks after the invasion, it became apparent that the Soviet Union was not prepared to take any dramatic move. The United Nations Security Council’s hands were tied. Only the United States could pressure Israel to end the invasion.

Of course, Israel had its own conditions that needed to be met before making any move.

No one could take the decision to completely destroy Beirut and bringing an end to the Palestinian leadership would have dire consequences on the entire Palestinian cause, said Wazzan.

On July 3, Wazzan informed US envoy Philipe Habib that the PLO had agreed to pull out its forces. Habib asked him if the Palestinians had signed a document to confirm their withdrawal. Wazzan said it had not occurred to him to request a signed document. Habib stressed that the Israelis would want written proof of their vow.

Wazzan relayed the envoy’s message to the Palestinians, who “received quite the shock by it.” He explained that the Palestinian leadership was trying to avoid submitting any written vow.

He recalled an ensuing heated meeting that was held between him, former PMs Saeb Salam and Takieddin al-Solh and Arafat at Salam’s residence. Wazzan said Arafat addressed the Lebanese people, especially the residents of Beirut, as if they had abandoned the resistance.

Salam was outraged by his remarks, saying: “You’re saying this after everything Beirut has done for you? You’re saying this after everything Lebanon has offered? Haven’t you seen the destruction in the country? Do want Beirut to be completely destroyed and for its people to be displaced?”

During the meeting, Solh asked the Palestinian leadership: “Are there any weapons you haven’t yet used in this war? If so, then we will stand by you and make sacrifices for you. Have any countries pledged to join the war, fight by your side and secure your victory? If so, then we will stand by you.”

“If you don’t have these weapons and that vow, then have mercy on Beirut, which is being destroyed in spite of everything that it has given and continues to give,” he told Arafat.

In the end, the Palestinians agreed to quit the city. Wazzan said the decision pained him as “we had supported the Palestinian resistance and stood by its side to an extent that we sometimes ignored its mistakes and neglected the Lebanese.”

Saeb Salam

When Israel invaded Lebanon, the Lebanese cabinet decided to place all capabilities at the army’s disposal. There were concerns, however, that it would be crushed by the invading military and the country would be left divided as a result, especially with various rival militias on the ground.

Wazzan wanted to resign when the Israeli army surrounded Beirut, but Salam warned that the country would not be able to tolerate more division and paralysis in the state. He offered Wazzan his complete support and persuaded him against resigning.

Salam’s position was hailed by his rivals, including Secretary General of the Lebanese Communist Party Mohsen Ibrahim and Secretary General of the Communist Action Organization in Lebanon George Hawi.

Salam recalled those days when Israeli Defense Minister Ariel Sharon wanted to destroy Beirut along with the Palestinians and Lebanese people. He said: “My sole concern was for the resistance to be safe and for our country to be safe.”

“Some have said that ‘he forced our withdrawal to save his country’,” he added. “This is not true. They left with their weapons, while raising the victory sign. I saw them off at the port and they went abroad to continue to fight for their cause. Sharon’s attack was destructive. Looking out from my house, I could see flames from all sides.”

“I clashed several times with Abou Ammar [Arafat]. And yet, when the time came for him to leave, he dropped by to bid me farewell and express his gratitude,” added Salam.

George Hawi

Hawi recalled three positions that were prevalent and shared by the Palestinians and Lebanese leadership when the Israeli army invaded Beirut and hammered it with shelling.

The first believed that there was no point in continuing the fight and everything should be done to rescue whatever could be salvaged.

The second was a more romanticized view that spoke of transforming Beirut into a new Stalingrad. Secretary General of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP) George Habash shared this view and so did Hawi during the first month of the invasion.

The third was more realistic and realized that the fighting should aim to improve the conditions of a political solution. This position was reinforced when it appeared that the international community had no hope in stopping the Israeli war machine, said Hawi.

He denied that he, along with Mohsen, led to the prolongation of the war because they were awaiting the Soviet position. “In the beginning, Mohsen adopted a hard line just as we did. He later adopted a more realistic approach,” Hawi added. “The truth is Arafat was the most pragmatic of us all.”

When asked who he believed opposed the withdrawal from Beirut, he replied: “No one really. Not the Palestinians or the Lebanese.”

Ahmed Jibril

Secretary General of the PFLP-General Command (PFLP-GC) Ahmed Jibril’s account of events doesn’t align with others. One time when I was in Damascus, I asked him about his version of events of that summer of 1982.

When he sensed that the Palestinians were in agreement over withdrawing from Beirut, Arafat called for a meeting of Lebanese leaders, including Walid Jumblatt, AMAL movement leader Nabih Berri, Ibrahim Koleilat, Mohsen Ibrahim, Abdulrahim Murad and Toufic Sultan.

Arafat revealed that he had received an offer to pull out from Beirut, but said he could not give an answer before first consulting with Palestinian and Lebanese officials. At the meeting, Ibrahim, Koleilat and Murad said: “We gave you the whole of Lebanon, so give us Beirut.” Jumblatt chose not to say anything negative or positive.

Berri appeared to support the withdrawal, while others noted that the Palestinians chose not fight Israel from southern Lebanon, so why were they opting to fight from Beirut? The meeting was very tense and like a stab in the back, said Jibril.

My questions rekindled the hatred between Arafat and Jibril. “Arafat chose to quit Beirut, but he was searching for an excuse to avoid leaving through Syria. (...) Along with George Habash and Nayef Hawatima, we sent a message to then Syrian Foreign Minister Abdul Halim Khaddam. After 24 hours, we received a reply through a cable,” recalled Jibril.

He explained that members of the Baath had met with President Hafez al-Assad and agreed to receive more Palestinians. “I read out the message to Arafat, who replied: ‘I do not work through cables. The Syrian government must release a formal statement about the matter.’”

“We clashed. I told Arafat: ‘It’s been three months, and you haven’t missed an opportunity to criticize Syria, directly or indirectly. Syria is waging a battle with us. It has dispatched 90 jets and thousands of tanks, armored vehicles and soldiers, while you make contact with various Arab countries. Do you want to clash with Syria?’ The meeting became strained and quickly came to an end.”

Jibril again contacted Damascus and hours later Syrian state radio announced its agreement to host the Palestinians. He met with Arafat to relay the message. The Palestinian leader said: “Do you think I will credit our resistance for three months and victory in Beirut to the Syrian leadership?”

A year later, Arafat would return to Tripoli to provoke Syria. “We surrounded him, but he eventually left. Then Syrian chief-of-staff Hikmat al-Shehabi would later tell me, I wish you had finished him off there and relieved everyone of him,” said Jibril.

The hatred went farther than that. Jibril later told me he hoped Arafat would have been assassinated by a Palestinian, the same way Egyptian President Anwar al-Sadat was killed by Egyptian extremist Khalid Islambouli. I asked him if he had ever sent someone to kill Arafat, he replied: “I am certain a Palestinian Khalid Islambouli will eventually rear his head.”

George Habash

Meeting with Habash in Damascus, he told me how the majority of the Palestinian leaders, including himself, supported the withdrawal from Beirut. The decision became the best option after Israel tightened its siege and it became necessary to take into account the suffering of the Lebanese people.

“Of course, I chose to head to Damascus because I knew I could continue the armed struggle there, rebuild the military capabilities and take part in the armed resistance against the Israeli occupation of Lebanon,” he said.

“I was focused on the political compromise Arafat would have to make after leaving Beirut. He told us bluntly that we had no choice but to accept the American initiatives to resolve the Palestinian cause because the fight against Israel according to his [Arafat’s] rules was no longer possible after the loss of the Lebanese arena,” he added.

Salah Khalaf

I once met prominent Palestinian leader Salah Khalaf in Tunisia. He was forlorn and told me that the decision to leave Beirut was dictated by several military, political and humanitarian factors.

The Palestinian resistance was not fighting on its own land, he recalled. It had to take into account the needs of the locals and their fears. Moreover, no one truly believed that the Security Council and Soviet Union could deter Israel. “Given those circumstances, taking a suicidal decision was out of the question. So, we had no choice but to withdraw,” he revealed.

“We were unable to find a substitute to Beirut after we pulled out from it. There can be no substitute to this city that gave so much to the Palestinian revolution. Along with the Lebanese, we wronged the city, inadvertently at times. If only we had been better at understanding the fears of our rivals and circumstances of our allies,” he remarked.

“After Beirut, we had no choice but to look internally. I’m not exaggerating when I say that we criminally wronged Beirut. We wasted this glittering gem. I often wonder how the Lebanese people themselves allowed Beirut to deteriorate to such an extent. They took part in the crime as well, also inadvertently at times. There was an inevitable price to pay for the loss of Beirut,” he said.

Most Viewed

 
Features

Sweida’s Druze, Bedouin Tribes Locked in Historic Grievances

Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)
Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)
TT
20
TT

Sweida’s Druze, Bedouin Tribes Locked in Historic Grievances

Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)
Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)

Sweida, a province in southern Syria, is teetering on the brink after days of deadly violence and clashes between local communities and government security forces, an unrest that signals deeper turmoil across the war-battered country.

The latest flare-up has laid bare tensions that go beyond the provincial borders, raising concerns about the future of coexistence and civil peace in a region long known for its rich tapestry of religious, social, and cultural diversity.

While the Syrian government in Damascus seeks to reassert control over all of its territory, local groups are renewing calls for greater recognition of their rights and “distinct identity.” The result is a fragile and combustible equation in a strategically vital region.

Sweida has long been a flashpoint, shaped by decades of uneasy relations between Druze communities and neighboring Bedouin tribes. That legacy of mistrust now intersects with a crumbling economy, a lack of essential services, the rise of armed factions, and a newly entrenched central authority in Damascus, factors that together threaten to turn the province into a flashpoint for wider instability.

Competing narratives have further muddied the waters, with each side offering starkly different versions of recent events, accounts that are often shaped not just by what happened in the past few days, but by long-standing grievances and buried animosities. The deepening rift and absence of trust among local communities highlight just how far Syria remains from reconciliation.

As pressure builds, observers warn that without a sustainable political solution that acknowledges local demands while maintaining national cohesion, Sweida may be a harbinger of further unrest in Syria’s uncertain future.

Power Struggles and Fractured Alliances

In Syria’s Sweida, power is fragmented among a complex web of religious authorities, influential families, and rival armed factions, a fractured landscape that reflects the broader divisions tearing at the country.

Local leadership is split between traditional Druze clerical authorities and prominent families, each with their own loyalties and varying degrees of influence on the ground. Political rivalries run deep, and military factions are equally divided, some aligning with the government in Damascus, while others openly challenge it.

Among the most prominent pro-government groups is the “Madafat al-Karama” faction led by Laith al-Balous, son of the late Druze leader Sheikh Wahid al-Balous. He is seen as a key ally of Damascus, alongside Suleiman Abdel-Baqi, commander of the “Ahrar Jabal al-Arab” group.

On the opposing side are factions such as the “Military Council in Sweida” and “Liwa al-Jabal” (Mountain Brigade), which collectively field around 3,000 fighters. These groups are seen as aligned with the views of influential Druze spiritual leader Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri, who has been increasingly critical of the central government.

A newer alliance has also emerged under the banner of “Counter-Terrorism Forces” or the “Syrian Brigade Party,” bringing together factions such as “Dir’ al-Tawhid,” “Forces of Al-Ulya,” “Sheikh al-Karama,” “Saraya al-Jabal,” and “Jaysh al-Muwahideen.” This coalition formally severed ties with Damascus following Sheikh Hijri’s speech on July 15, in which he rejected the government’s announcement of a ceasefire agreement with local notables.

Also active in the province is the “Men of Dignity Movement,” a relatively large faction led by Abu Hassan Yehya al-Hajjar. Though not officially aligned with the new coalition, the group is also staunchly opposed to the Syrian government.

The growing number of factions and rival power centers has deepened instability in Sweida.

Bedouin Tribes in Sweida Say They Are Marginalized, Blamed and Forgotten

Even after government forces withdrew and a fragile ceasefire took hold in Sweida, clashes reignited, this time between Druze residents and Bedouin tribes, underscoring the deep and historical grievances simmering beneath the surface of the country’s sectarian fault lines.

The Bedouin, who see themselves as long-marginalized stakeholders in the region, say they have been caught in the crossfire - blamed for violence they did not initiate and excluded from political life and public services.

“We are the perpetual scapegoats,” said Mohammad Abu Thulaith, a lawyer and member of the Sweida Tribal Council. A descendant of one of the Bedouin tribes long at odds with the Druze population, he told Asharq Al-Awsat that “Bedouins are the weakest link in the local power struggle.”

The sense of injustice voiced by Abu Thulaith runs deep and is rooted in historical narratives. According to his account, the Druze - who migrated to the Jabal al-Arab area around two centuries ago - gradually expanded their influence, curbing the pastoral livelihoods of the Bedouin, particularly livestock herding. This, he said, led to the forced migration of nearly half of the Bedouin tribes from the mountain region toward Jordan, rural Damascus, and Daraa.

He cited the example of Saad Hayel al-Surour, a former speaker of the Jordanian parliament, who remains a Syrian citizen to this day. His father, Hayel al-Surour, once headed the Syrian parliament before the 1958 union between Syria and Egypt.

Many in the Bedouin community consider themselves the original inhabitants of the land, victims of what they describe as “a prolonged injustice” that denied them citizenship rights, political representation, and even basic services.

Abu Thulaith argues that the source of current tensions must be addressed at its roots. “We are blamed because the other side does not dare confront the real actors behind the violence,” he said, referring to armed groups operating in the area.

He called on the Druze tribal leadership - often referred to as “the people of the mountain” - to assume responsibility for protecting the Bedouin community and ending decades of exclusion. “We’ve suffered from a double injustice,” he said. “One at the hands of the Assad regime and Baathist rule, and the other from our neighbors. We have no access to employment, no political representation, and we’re deprived of the most basic public services.”

Despite the mounting frustration, Abu Thulaith insists that the Bedouin do not seek confrontation. “We don’t have the means to fight,” he said. “All we want is to live in peace with our neighbors. No one can erase the other. Since the fall of the former regime, tribal communities have hoped the state would step in to offer protection and ensure the most basic rights.”

As tensions in Sweida continue to spiral, voices like Abu Thulaith’s are demanding a deeper national conversation about identity, land, and the future of Jabal al-Arab - one that addresses long-neglected wounds before they erupt into further conflict.

Druze Grapple with a Perpetual Identity Crisis

For Syria’s Druze minority, identity is not just a question of culture or belief, it is a matter of survival. That fear of erasure has long shaped their political instincts, social structures, and geographic presence in the country.

“The Druze, like many minorities, live with a constant sense of threat,” said Khaldoun Al-Nabbouani, a professor of political philosophy at the University of Paris and a native of Sweida. “This persistent anxiety drives them to close ranks around their identity in a collective effort of self-preservation.”

Speaking to Asharq Al-Awsat, Al-Nabbouani explained that the community’s inward turn is not only symbolic or cultural - it also manifests demographically. “Just as the Alawites are concentrated in the coastal mountains, the Druze have built their stronghold in Jabal al-Arab. It reflects a broader pattern among minorities to cluster in specific regions where they can reinforce their social cohesion and safeguard a perpetually anxious identity.”

That reflex dates back centuries. The very formation of the Druze sect, he said, was a political and cultural rebellion against traditional Islam. “Since its inception, the community has developed a deep need for internal solidarity and social insulation,” he said. “Even today, that’s visible in things like marriage practices - interfaith unions remain extremely rare.”

This insularity, he noted, extends to the political realm. The community has historically resisted the appointment of governors or officials from outside the Druze fold, a trend dating back to the 1930s and continuing into recent decades. One of the more controversial examples was the appointment of a non-Druze governor under the government of Ahmad Al-Sharaa, which sparked uproar, resignation, and a political standoff before the governor ultimately returned.

Tensions between the Druze and the central government are nothing new. Under President Adib Shishakli in the early 1950s, relations with Damascus deteriorated sharply. Shishakli accused the Druze of plotting against the state and in 1954 ordered artillery strikes on Jabal al-Arab, an assault that killed civilians, displaced families, and left deep scars that still echo in local memory.

When the Baath Party seized power in 1963, Damascus shifted tactics, pursuing what Al-Nabbouani described as a policy of “soft containment.” Symbolic appointments of Druze figures to government positions were coupled with tight security oversight in Sweida, a strategy aimed at managing rather than integrating the province.

As new waves of unrest ripple through southern Syria, the Druze community once again finds itself wrestling with existential questions caught between historical trauma, present instability, and an uncertain future.