Rafik Hariri after First Meeting with Bashar Assad: I Became More Afraid for Syria, Not Lebanon

In a new book, former MP Bassem al-Sabeh recalls the thorny relationship between the slain ex-PM and ruling elite in Syria.

Slain Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik al-Hariri. (AFP)
Slain Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik al-Hariri. (AFP)
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Rafik Hariri after First Meeting with Bashar Assad: I Became More Afraid for Syria, Not Lebanon

Slain Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik al-Hariri. (AFP)
Slain Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik al-Hariri. (AFP)

Asharq Al-Awsat is publishing a series of excerpts from a new book by former Lebanese MP Bassem al-Sabeh in which he recalls the thorny relationship between slain former Lebanese Prime Minister Rafik al-Hariri and members of the ruling elite in Syria. “Lebanon in the Shadows of Hell: from the Taif Accord to Hariri’s Assassination” is published by All Prints Distributors & Publishers.

Sabeh worked as an aide to Hariri until his killing in February 2005. He served as lawmaker from 1992 to 2009. He was also appointed information minister in Hariri’s government between 1996 and 1998. Sabeh is a member of Hariri’s Mustaqbal Movement and a pillar of the March 14 movement that opposed Syria’s political and security hegemony over Lebanon.

Hariri’s ties with the Syrian leadership extended to around 25 years. In the early 1980s, he acted as an envoy to Saudi King Fahad bin Abdulaziz and accompanied Prince Badr bin Sultan’s diplomatic visits when it came to Arab efforts to end the Lebanese civil war.

MP Bassem al-Sabeh with PM Hariri. (AFP)

At the time, Lebanon and Syria’s relationship revolved around interests and political and personal calculations of Syrian officials, whom Syrian President Hafze al-Assad had given permission to interfere in Lebanese affairs. Hariri had to maneuver around these interests as he attempted to forge ties with the Syrian leadership.

Hariri was in direct contact with Syrian Vice President Abdul Halim Khaddam, army commander Hikmat al-Shehabi, head of Syria's security apparatus in Lebanon Ghazi Kanaan, and military intelligence officer Rustom Ghazaleh. Bashar al-Assad would join the list in the final years of his father, Hafez’s, life.

Other notable Syrian figures at the time included Bassel al-Assad, Bashar’s older brother, who died in a car crash in 1994. He was being groomed to succeed his father as president. Other figures included Maher al-Assad, Bashar’s younger brother, military officer Assef Shawkat, intelligence officer Ali Mamlouk, Defense Minister Mustafa Tlass, foreign minister Walid al-Muallem and his predecessor Farouk al-Sharaa.

Hariri’s ties with Hafez emerged and developed and were tested under the umbrella of Saudi-Syrian relations. They were ruled by conditions that bolstered mutual trust and respect between them. The good relations did not extend to any of Hafez’s three sons. Rather, they were marked by a lot of mistrust and suspicion that ultimately left grave damage to Lebanese-Syrian ties that culminated in United Nations Security Council resolution 1559 and left Lebanon and Syria revolving in a cycle of mutual spite.

Bassel al-Assad.

Before Bashar entered the picture, Hafez was grooming his eldest son, Bassel, to become president. He was the undisputed heir to the presidency. He was Syria’s number one equestrian champion and excelled at his studies at the Soviet Military Academies. He rose up the ranks to become commander of the republican guard.

Bashar, meanwhile, earned his medical degree from Syria before heading to London for postgraduate training in ophthalmology. He was summoned back to Damascus in 1994 after Bassel’s death. He was groomed to become Hafez’s heir. Maher was seen as too hardline to succeed Bassel. He nevertheless is part of the ruling elite, and has been the number two in the regime after he took over the republican guard and Fourth Brigade.

I attended Bassel’s funeral in Syria’s al-Qardaha. In attendance were Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, senior Syrian officials and others. Unlike other officials, Hariri cried at the funeral. I asked him about it later, knowing that he had never met Bassel and shared no ties with him. He replied: “At that moment, I recalled my son Hussam [who passed away in a car accident in the US in the late 1980s]. There is no harder experience than that for a father. God help President Assad.”

Bassel, Bashar and Maher played various roles in influencing Hariri’s political role. Other Syrian officials who also played a similar part included Kanaan, in his capacity as head of the Syrian security apparatus in Lebanon, Mohammed Nassif, who is known for his loyalty to the Assad family, and Shawkat, Hafez’s son-in-law who rose to prominence after Bassel’s death.

Hariri did try to achieve some rapprochement with Bassel in the early 1990s, but Hafez stood in his war. Hariri would try to again forge ties with his other son, Bashar in the late 1990s.

At the time, relations between the two men were very frosty after Lebanese army commander and later President Emile Lahoud was chosen as Syria’s number one man in Lebanon. Lahoud was elected president in 1998 and was given free rein by Syria in acting out in spite against Hariri and launching defamation campaigns against his policies soon after his term as PM ended.

Hariri sought to break the campaign launched against him by Lahoud - with the backing of Kanaan and Ghazaleh. He believed it was necessary to tackle the situation head-on by heading to the source of the problem and tackling the possible means to rectify the relationship.

President Emile Lahoud and PM Hariri. (AFP)

He made an unannounced visit to Damascus to meet with Hafez. It was 1999 and Hafez would die the following year. Hariri realized during that meeting that Hafez had finished paving the way for Bashar to succeed him.

Hafez advised Hariri to be open with Bashar and speak with him directly about Lebanon and ties with Syria. “Bashar has good relations with Lahoud and he can address the situation,” he quoted Hafez as saying. Hariri agreed to the suggestion without hesitation. In turn, Hafez pledged to arrange a meeting with his son. At that moment, Hariri realized that his friend Khaddam’s role in the regime had been diminished and that he needed to speak directly with Bashar to curry favor with Damascus.

Hariri summoned me to his Qoreitem residence in Beirut in late September 1999. He told me that we were headed to Damascus on an unannounced visit. I was not informed who we will be meeting even as the convoy sped to the border. “Are you going to meet the president?” I asked. “Someone more important than him. I will be meeting with Bashar. This is what the old man [Hafez] wants. There is a need to open a new chapter,” replied Hariri. “The father’s health is declining and the young man will come to power. I am being asked to help him. This is the first time I head to Damascus without meeting Khaddam. At any rate, I don’t want him to know now. I’ll tell him later.”

President Hafez al-Assad and PM Rafik al-Hariri during a meeting. (Getty Images)

In Syria, a convoy escorted us to Mount Qasioun that overlooks Damascus. There, Bassel had built a mini villa that he used as his office. Bashar had inherited it from him.

Bashar welcomed Hariri into his office, while Wissam al-Hassan and Yehya al-Arab - of Hariri’s security entourage - and I remained in the nearby salon. Signaling my companions to remain quiet, I tried to eavesdrop on the conversation going on in the office, but all I heard were murmurings and some laughter. I hoped that any snippet of conversation could break the tension.

The meeting went on for around an hour and a half. Bashar bid farewell to his guest the same way he greeted him. He accorded us with a farewell gesture, but without a handshake or speaking to us.

Hariri and I rode back to Lebanon together in the same car. He remained silent for most of the journey in Syria. “How was the meeting? You’re unusually silent,” I told him. “We’ll talk later” was his reply. When we entered Lebanon, he parked the car just near the border and told me to take the wheel.

He started talking as soon as we got back into the car. “The meeting was necessary and definitely good. Do you want me to be blunt? After this meeting, I am no longer afraid for Lebanon. We can handle our own problems. We are used to falling down and getting back up. I am now afraid for Syria,” he said.

“How so?” I asked. “After Hafez, Syria will be ruled by a child. God help Syria,” replied Hariri after which he reclined his seat and slept.

President Bashar al-Assad receives PM Hariri for a meeting. (Getty Images)

The next day, he told me that Bashar’s main concern now revolved around “arranging the internal house of his party, regime and family to address any emergency related to his father’s health. He sees in my friendship an opening to forge foreign relations which he will need in the coming period.” Hariri said Bashar asked him about his relationship with French President Jacques Chirac, Saudi Crown Prince Abdullah bin Abdulaziz and the American administration. He asked for cooperation with Lahoud and to monitor the changes that will take place in Syria.

“The young man is awaiting the death of his father without openly saying it. He said his father’s health was concerning and that he was suffering from complications from diabetes,” added Hariri. He seemed reassured that Bashar was being preoccupied with the situation inside Syria.

Hafez realized that his son won’t kick off his term in office securely without the support of the Arab and international fold. He perhaps believed that Hariri could be a major player in paving the way for this support and who better than Hariri could achieve that?

 

*Next excerpt: Sole Article on the Agenda ... Insulting Rafik al-Hariri



To Get Their Own Cash, People in Gaza Must Pay Middlemen a 40% Cut

A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
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To Get Their Own Cash, People in Gaza Must Pay Middlemen a 40% Cut

A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)
A destroyed branch of the Bank of Palestine in the Tal al-Hawa neighborhood of Gaza City is seen Wednesday, July 9, 2025. (AP)

Cash is the lifeblood of the Gaza Strip’s shattered economy, and like all other necessities in this war-torn territory — food, fuel, medicine — it is in extremely short supply.

With nearly every bank branch and ATM inoperable, people have become reliant on an unrestrained network of powerful cash brokers to get money for daily expenses and commissions on those transactions have soared to about 40%.

"The people are crying blood because of this," said Ayman al-Dahdouh, a school director living in Gaza City. "It’s suffocating us, starving us."

At a time of surging inflation, high unemployment and dwindling savings, the scarcity of cash has magnified the financial squeeze on families — some of whom have begun to sell their possessions to buy essential goods.

The cash that is available has even lost some of its luster. Palestinians use the Israeli currency, the shekel, for most transactions. Yet with Israel no longer resupplying the territory with newly printed bank notes, merchants are increasingly reluctant to accept frayed bills.

Gaza’s punishing cash crunch has several root causes, experts say.

To curtail Hamas’ ability to purchase weapons and pay its fighters, Israel stopped allowing cash to enter Gaza at the start of the war. Around the same time, many wealthy families in Gaza withdrew their money from banks and then fled the territory. And rising fears about Gaza’s financial system prompted foreign businesses selling goods into the territory to demand cash payments.

As Gaza’s money supply dwindled and civilians’ desperation mounted, cash brokers' commissions — around 5% at the start of the war — skyrocketed.

Someone needing cash transfers money electronically to a broker and moments later is handed a fraction of that amount in bills. Many brokers openly advertise their services, while others are more secretive. Some grocers and retailers have also begun exchanging cash for their customers.

"If I need $60, I need to transfer $100," said Mohammed Basheer al-Farra, who lives in southern Gaza after being displaced from Khan Younis. "This is the only way we can buy essentials, like flour and sugar. We lose nearly half of our money just to be able to spend it."

In 2024, inflation in Gaza surged by 230%, according to the World Bank. It dropped slightly during the ceasefire that began in January, only to shoot up again after Israel backed out of the truce in March.

Cash touches every aspect of life in Gaza

About 80% of people in Gaza were unemployed at the end of 2024, according to the World Bank, and the figure is likely higher now. Those with jobs are mostly paid by direct deposits into their bank accounts.

But "when you want to buy vegetables, food, water, medication -- if you want to take transportation, or you need a blanket, or anything — you must use cash," al-Dahdouh said.

Shahid Ajjour’s family has been living off of savings for two years after the pharmacy and another business they owned were ruined by the war.

"We had to sell everything just to get cash," said Ajjour, who sold her gold to buy flour and canned beans. The family of eight spends the equivalent of $12 every two days on flour; before the war, that cost less than $4.

Sugar is very expensive, costing the equivalent of $80-$100 per kilogram (2.2 pounds), multiple people said; before the war, that cost less than $2.

Gasoline is about $25 a liter, or roughly $95 a gallon, when paying the lower, cash price.

Bills are worn and unusable

The bills in Gaza are tattered after 21 months of war.

Money is so fragile, it feels as if it is going to melt in your hands, said Mohammed al-Awini, who lives in a tent camp in southern Gaza.

Small business owners said they were under pressure to ask customers for undamaged cash because their suppliers demand pristine bills from them.

Thaeir Suhwayl, a flour merchant in Deir al-Balah, said his suppliers recently demanded he pay them only with brand new 200-shekel ($60) bank notes, which he said are rare. Most civilians pay him with 20-shekel ($6) notes that are often in poor condition.

On a recent visit to the market, Ajjour transferred the shekel equivalent of around $100 to a cash broker and received around $50 in return. But when she tried to buy some household supplies from a merchant, she was turned away because the bills weren’t in good condition.

"So the worth of your $50 is zero in the end," she said.

This problem has given rise to a new business in Gaza: money repair. It costs between 3 and 10 shekels ($1-$3) to mend old bank notes. But even cash repaired with tape or other means is sometimes rejected.

People are at the mercy of cash brokers

After most of the banks closed in the early days of the war, those with large reserves of cash suddenly had immense power.

"People are at their mercy," said Mahmoud Aqel, who has been displaced from his home in southern Gaza. "No one can stop them."

The war makes it impossible to regulate market prices and exchange rates, said Dalia Alazzeh, an expert in finance and accounting at the University of the West of Scotland. "Nobody can physically monitor what’s happening," Alazzeh said.

A year ago, the Palestine Monetary Authority, the equivalent of a central bank for Gaza and the West Bank, sought to ease the crisis by introducing a digital payment system known as Iburaq. It attracted half a million users, or a quarter of the population, according to the World Bank, but was ultimately undermined by merchants insisting on cash.

Israel sought to ramp up financial pressure on Hamas earlier this year by tightening the distribution of humanitarian aid, which it said was routinely siphoned off by militants and then resold.

Experts said it is unclear if the cash brokers’ activities benefit Hamas, as some Israeli analysts claim.

The war has made it more difficult to determine who is behind all sorts of economic activity in the territory, said Omar Shabaan, director of Palthink for Strategic Studies, a Gaza-based think tank.

"It's a dark place now. You don't know who is bringing cigarettes into Gaza," he said, giving just one example. "It's like a mafia."

These same deep-pocketed traders are likely the ones running cash brokerages, and selling basic foodstuffs, he said. "They benefit by imposing these commissions," he said.

Once families run out of cash, they are forced to turn to humanitarian aid.

Al-Farra said that is what prompted him to begin seeking food at an aid distribution center, where it is common for Palestinians to jostle over one other for sacks of flour and boxes of pasta.

"This is the only way I can feed my family," he said.