Turkey Accused of Seeking to Use Libya to Establish ‘African Idlib’

A Boko Haram flag flies from an abandoned command post, Gamboru, Nigeria, February 4, 2015. (Getty Images)
A Boko Haram flag flies from an abandoned command post, Gamboru, Nigeria, February 4, 2015. (Getty Images)
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Turkey Accused of Seeking to Use Libya to Establish ‘African Idlib’

A Boko Haram flag flies from an abandoned command post, Gamboru, Nigeria, February 4, 2015. (Getty Images)
A Boko Haram flag flies from an abandoned command post, Gamboru, Nigeria, February 4, 2015. (Getty Images)

Libyans and extremist groups experts have expressed concerns that radical organizations may exploit the unrest in Libya to establish new strongholds for their activities in northern and western Africa and the Sahel region. Such concerns are justified as Turkey continues to bring in droves of mercenaries and extremists from northern Idlib in Syria to Libya.

Ankara had intervened in the Libyan crisis in favor of the Tripoli-based Government of National Accord (GNA).

Founder of the “Silphium center for studies and research” Gamal Shallouf said Turkey has transformed Libya into a “backyard base” for terrorists because it continues to bring in extremists from Idlib and northern Syria to Tripoli.

This may pave the way for Libya to turn into an open ground for such terrorist organizations or for the emergence of new groups that may defect from present ones, he warned to Asharq Al-Awsat. “These new groups could be more radical than the original ones.”

He explained that after any defeat, terrorist groups often split up into smaller ones. This was demonstrated in Syria, where some terrorists have moved from one old battleground to a new one.

The international community should have rid Syria of these organizations, but Ankara swept in instead and moved them to Libya, he remarked.

The Syrian Observatory for Human Rights had revealed that Turkey has transferred some 10,000 extremists from Syria to Libya. Many of these fighters were members of al-Qaeda and are wanted internationally on terror charges.

Shallouf cited confirmed reports in March that said members of the Hurras al-Din al-Qaeda affiliate had moved to Libya’s Misrata. Some have even headed to Mali. Former members of the Hayat Tahrir al-Sham group also headed to Libya in April

As for ISIS, members of the group have joined the affiliate in southern Libya, know as the “army of the desert”, that operates in southern Algeria, Chad and Niger.

Shallouf warned that the emergence of such fighters and new alliances will pose a danger not only to Libya, but the entire region. Some new groups, including ISIS affiliates, may align themselves with Boko Haram that is active in Nigeria, Chad and Mali. Others may join the Ansar Beit al-Maqdis.

Moreover, Shallouf warned that the extremists may take advantage of Libya’s strategic location and head to Europe. Unconfirmed reports said that some have even made it to the continent after traveling onboard illegal migrant boats.

Tunisian extremist groups expert Dr. Alaya Allani said Turkey is seeking to reduce the number of ISIS members in camps it oversees in Syria by transferring them to Libya under the pretense of backing the GNA.

In remarks to Asharq Al-Awsat, he said ISIS and al-Qaeda extremists will join present groups that are active in Africa. “Even though they follow contradictory ideologies and different leaderships, they have recently divided areas of influence, namely in Mali and Burkina Faso,” he added.

Despite the seemingly bleak outlook, he expressed confidence that the radical extremist groups will no longer be able to keep a foothold in Libya once the Berlin conference agreements are implemented.

“Contrary to Syria, no one in Libya will accept them, which means they will have to move to the Sahel region that borders Libya and also towards the Sahara Desert,” he said. The Sahara could some day become a main stronghold for such groups.

A report by the Egyptian Center for Strategic Studies found a sharp rise in terrorist activity in Africa in 2019. It documented 3,471 terror attacks that killed at least 10,000 people.



The Border Zone with Lebanon: A Refuge for Syrians Fearing ‘Change’

The Jdeidet Yabous Syrian border crossing, where images of Assad and his father appear to have been defaced (Asharq Al-Awsat).
The Jdeidet Yabous Syrian border crossing, where images of Assad and his father appear to have been defaced (Asharq Al-Awsat).
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The Border Zone with Lebanon: A Refuge for Syrians Fearing ‘Change’

The Jdeidet Yabous Syrian border crossing, where images of Assad and his father appear to have been defaced (Asharq Al-Awsat).
The Jdeidet Yabous Syrian border crossing, where images of Assad and his father appear to have been defaced (Asharq Al-Awsat).

The road from Beirut to Damascus is now lined with unfamiliar scenes. In just a few days, everything has changed for those traveling to the Syrian capital by land from Lebanon. Once an economic lifeline for Damascus, the route bustled with visitors—Syrians and Lebanese alike—and large trucks carried goods from Beirut’s port to Syria, a necessity brought on by international sanctions that have forced the country to rely on this corridor.

The journey to Damascus via Lebanon begins at the Masnaa border crossing, which, during the early days of Syria’s upheaval, saw unprecedented traffic heading into Syria. While outbound traffic has returned to normal—or even declined—inbound activity has surged again. Hundreds of Syrian families line up at the border, hoping for “humanitarian exceptions” to enter Lebanon. However, the influx has clogged the route for everyone, even those eligible for entry. For days, the road was virtually impassable until Lebanese authorities intervened to reopen it. Still, complaints from Syrians about alleged abuses at the border prompted General Security chief Major General Elias al-Baysari to launch an investigation into these violations, followed by measures to reduce the number of entries to just a few hundred.

Some Syrians leave after being denied entry, only for others to arrive, clinging to the hope that Lebanon might eventually open its doors. Entry is now restricted to those with valid residency, travelers transiting through Beirut’s airport, or individuals with official documentation.

Families wait in cars, with children and women inside while men gather around fires outside. Ayman, a man in his fifties from rural Damascus, anxiously waits for permission to cross after being denied entry by the checkpoint. He mentions receiving a promise that his case will be reviewed. “We are in danger. I won’t take my children back to die,” he says, refusing to elaborate on the exact threat. Determined, he vows to remain in the deserted zone indefinitely if necessary.

Despite no reports of targeted violence against former regime supporters or religious minorities—especially Shiites—fear remains pervasive. Bilal, a Syrian from the predominantly Shiite town of Zahraa near Aleppo, recounts how a relative was killed and claims that his name is on a wanted list. “I’ll never go back,” he says firmly.

The scene repeats itself just past the first opposition-held checkpoint, opposite the abandoned Syrian passport office. Crossing is straightforward and no longer requires ID for Lebanese citizens, unlike in the past. A friendly greeting and a wave from the armed guards suffice, often accompanied by a smile and “Welcome!” This is a stark contrast to the past, when multiple military checkpoints, infamous for soliciting bribes in the form of bread, cigarettes, or cash, made travel cumbersome.

Now, entering and exiting Syria via land is remarkably easy—no paperwork, no questions, and no inspections.

Near a victory arch along the road, adorned with images of deposed Syrian President Bashar al-Assad and his late father Hafez, stands a young man. His old car is parked nearby, with his wife and three children—all under ten years old—waiting inside. Hesitantly, he approaches a Lebanese traveler, asking whether he can enter Lebanon without the “yellow card” once issued by Syrian authorities for outgoing vehicles. Syrian border guards had turned him away, warning that Lebanese authorities might confiscate his car.

The man, from the Shiite-majority village of Foua near Idlib, is determined to reach Lebanon. “I’ve arranged for work with someone there, and I need to leave as soon as possible,” he explains nervously. Though he insists no one has harmed him, his unease is evident as he prepares to leave.

The Assads’ towering portraits remain intact, likely due to their height, while those at ground level have been torn down or trampled. Military checkpoints have been vandalized or destroyed.

Abandoned vehicles litter the roadside, some still smoldering, while others have been stripped of all valuables—tires, parts, and accessories. Military vehicles, tanks, and armored carriers, some still loaded with ammunition, lie deserted along the route from the border to Damascus. These remnants tell the story of a collapsed regime and an uncertain future.

Scattered among the wreckage are vehicles destroyed by Israeli missile strikes targeting Syrian air defense systems, including anti-aircraft launchers mounted on military trucks.

The stretch of abandoned military hardware extends from the Syrian border to the outskirts of Damascus. These vehicles were once meant to defend the capital but now lie powerless, deserted by soldiers who left their uniforms discarded along the roadside as they fled. The old Syrian flag lies tattered and forgotten in multiple locations, untouched—neither reclaimed nor mourned.