No Peace after a Decade of War in Syria

A Kurdish fighter overlooks a destroyed town in Ayn al-Arab (Kobani) on January 30, 2015 (AFP)
A Kurdish fighter overlooks a destroyed town in Ayn al-Arab (Kobani) on January 30, 2015 (AFP)
TT

No Peace after a Decade of War in Syria

A Kurdish fighter overlooks a destroyed town in Ayn al-Arab (Kobani) on January 30, 2015 (AFP)
A Kurdish fighter overlooks a destroyed town in Ayn al-Arab (Kobani) on January 30, 2015 (AFP)

After a decade of violence and human tragedy that has made Syria the defining war of the early 21st century, the fighting has tapered off but the suffering hasn’t, said an AFP report.

In 2011, Bashar al-Assad and his government briefly looked like another domino about to fall in the whirlwind of pro-democracy revolts sweeping the Middle East.

Ten years later, Assad is still there, a pyrrhic victor offering no credible prospects of reconciliation for the Syrian people and exercising limited sovereignty over a land left prey to foreign powers.

In late January 2011, the uprisings that toppled dictators in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya became known as the “Arab Spring” and the contagious nature of the region’s revolts became obvious.

It took time for the wave of protests to take hold in Syria, where demonstrations had been banned for half a century.

Some of the first gatherings, such as vigils outside the Libyan embassy in Damascus, were ostensibly in support of the other uprisings and not a direct challenge to the four-decade-old rule of the Assad clan.

“We would call for freedom and democracy in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya, but we were actually chanting for Syria,” prominent Syrian activist Mazen Darwish recalled.

“We became obsessed with finding the spark that would put us next in line,” he said, retracing the beginnings of Syria’s revolt in a phone interview with AFP. “Who was going to be Syria’s Bouazizi?”

Darwish was arrested several times in Syria, most recently in February 2012 for more than three years before his release in 2015, and he then left the country.

The closest equivalent to Mohamed Bouazizi, the young street vendor whose self-immolation on Dec 17, 2011 was the trigger for Tunisia’s revolt, turned out to be youngsters who spray-painted the words “Your turn, doctor” on a wall in the southern town of Daraa.

The slogan was a clear reference to Assad, wishing the London-trained ophthalmologist the same fate as Tunisia’s Zine El Abidine Ben Ali, who had to flee into exile -- or perhaps even Egypt’s Hosni Mubarak who stepped down under the pressure of the street and the army.

The graffiti led to arrests and torture, which in turn caused an uproar that rallied a critical number of Syrians behind the protests.

March 15, the date which AFP and many others use for the start of the Syrian uprising, was not the first day of protests but the day that demonstrations happened nationwide and simultaneously.

The displacement, which saw half of Syria’s pre-war population of 22 million forced to flee their homes, was the largest induced by conflict since World War II.

Half of those displaced fled the country, some of them swelling a wave of refugees reaching the shores of Europe, a phenomenon whose scope affected public opinion, politics, and the outcome of elections on the continent.

In the chaos that followed the eruption of civil conflict in Syria, ISIS proclaimed a “caliphate” straddling Syria and Iraq that reshaped global terrorism.

Arch foes Iran and the United States both sent troops to Syria to protect their interests, as did Turkey. Russia for its part launched in 2015 its largest military intervention since the collapse of the Soviet Union, a move that turned the tide in Assad’s favor.

Almost 400,000 people were killed in 10 years, according to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights (SOHR).

The regime used chemical weapons on civilian areas to subdue pockets of resistance, it has raided densely inhabited areas with crude barrel bombs that sow indiscriminate death, and systematically resorted to siege and starvation tactics.

Countless strikes were carried out against medical facilities in defiance of global outrage.

The rapid militarization of the regime’s response to the initial protests and the emergence of extremist groups -- helped by the government’s mass release of al-Qaeda militants -- turned the Syrian uprising into the Syrian destructive war.

The ultra-violence that ISIS group projected and its ability to attract fighters from Europe and beyond instilled a fear in the West that wiped out the early pro-democracy enthusiasm.

The world’s focus shifted to the fight against extremists and away from the Syrian people’s struggle against Assad, who quickly recast himself as the best rampart against terrorism.

“We were very naive when we started the revolution,” said Darwish, who was among those who created the first coordination committees organizing the anti-government movement.

“Our outlook was sentimental, poetic, romantic. We thought our moral high ground alone would be enough. We had no tools when the others -- the regime and the Islamist groups -- had real partners and huge financial resources,” he explained.

In 2012, then US president Barack Obama described Assad’s use of chemical weapons as a “red line.”

But when it was crossed a year later, he stopped short of deciding on the military intervention many had hoped for, in what remains a defining moment of his administration.

Opposition factions fighting under a myriad of different banners, some receiving funding and weapons from abroad, were gradually bringing a Syrian army weakened by mass defections to its knees.

However, the intervention of Iran and its proxies -- first among them the Lebanese Hezbollah -- and the massive Russian expeditionary operation of 2015 stopped the rot.

At one point, the government had lost control over almost 80 percent of the national territory, including most of its oil resources, and rebels were on Damascus’s doorstep.

With the support of Russia’s air force, equipment, and advisers, and with the added manpower of groups deployed by Tehran, Assad embarked on a vengeful scorched earth campaign to reconquer the country.

In an interview with AFP in February 2016, Assad made it clear there would be little room for negotiation and that his goal was nothing short of a full reconquest.

“Regardless of whether we can do that or not, this is a goal we are seeking to achieve without any hesitation,” he said.

The bloody sieges of Aleppo and eastern Ghouta, a rebel enclave near Damascus, ended with surrender deals that were replicated across the country.

Rebel fighters were forced into the northwestern province of Idlib, an enclave where around three million people now live in abominable conditions under the rule of Hayat Tahrir al-Sham.

Turkey has an estimated 15,000 troops deployed inside Syria and wields significant influence in the north.

The Syrian Kurdish forces that the United States allied with to combat ISIS in 2014 have remained in control of the northeast since they retook the last dregs of the so-called caliphate in 2019.

A ceasefire deal reached a year ago by Moscow and Ankara, the two main brokers in the conflict, has held despite sporadic fighting.

The offensive Assad long threatened on Idlib looks increasingly unlikely in that it would send the two mighty foreign powers on a direct collision course.

The Damascus regime controls less than two-thirds of the national territory, and geographer Fabrice Balanche argues that a look at the country’s borders paints an even less flattering picture.

He argued in a recent study showing that government forces controlled only 15 percent of Syria’s borders.

Last year saw the lowest number of casualties by far since the start of the war, with military operations having significantly wound down.

But while it may look to the outside world like the conflict has essentially ended, the lives of many Syrians have paradoxically never been worse.

“The war is over in the sense that the fighting and the battles are over,” said Hossam, a 39-year-old translator living in Damascus.

According to the United Nations, 60 percent of the population is now food insecure. The Syrian pound has lost 98 percent of its value in a decade and a World Vision report this month put the cost of the war at $1.2 trillion.

A court in Koblenz, Germany, sentenced a member of the Syrian secret police to four and a half years in jail for crimes against humanity in February.

The verdict was a first and offered a glimmer of hope that some form of justice could be handed down for the conflict’s victims, but Assad and his inner circle are in no immediate danger.

The 55-year-old, who came to power in 2000, is widely expected to secure another term in an election due to take place in the coming weeks.

“Syria is one of the youngest countries in the region and a significant portion of its population wasn’t even born in 2011,” said Gilles Bertrand, who heads the EU’s delegation to Syria.

“These girls and boys will be Syria’s young adults in five or 10 years and will, in turn, want a future, economic prospects and political freedoms that the system cannot give them if it doesn’t reform,” he told AFP.



Jamal Mustafa to Asharq Al-Awsat: I Couldn’t Provide Bribe Demanded by Judge, So I Was Jailed for Another 10 Years

Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
TT

Jamal Mustafa to Asharq Al-Awsat: I Couldn’t Provide Bribe Demanded by Judge, So I Was Jailed for Another 10 Years

Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.
Saddam Hussein and Jamal Mustafa Sultan.

In the final installment of his interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, Jamal Mustafa Sultan, a former Iraqi official and Saddam Hussein’s son-in-law, delves into his arrest, the collapse of hopes for resistance against US forces, and the turmoil that followed the American invasion of Iraq in 2003.

Mustafa faced a harsh journey during the 2003 US invasion of Iraq. He traveled to rally tribal leaders to defend Baghdad, only to return and find the city occupied. Declared a fugitive, his face appeared on the US “most-wanted” playing cards.

Mustafa fled to Syria but was denied asylum and sent back to Iraq, where he was arrested. Accused of leading resistance and car bombings, the court found no evidence to convict him.

In 2011, a judge offered him release in exchange for a bribe, which Mustafa could not afford. His proposal to sell family land to pay was rejected, leaving him imprisoned for another decade. He was eventually freed over lack of evidence.

A US soldier watches the toppling of Saddam Hussein’s statue in Baghdad on April 7, 2003. (Reuters)

After his release, Mustafa went to Erbil, where Kurdish leader Masoud Barzani invited him for a meeting. Barzani welcomed him warmly and asked how he could help. Mustafa requested assistance in obtaining a passport, praising Barzani’s generosity.

Mustafa shared that Saddam respected Barzani, once calling him a “tough but honorable opponent.” He also revealed that, before the 2003 US invasion of Iraq, Barzani had assured Saddam that Kurdish forces would not fight the Iraqi army.

Recalling the lead-up to the war, Mustafa said Saddam tasked him with reconnecting with tribal leaders to encourage them to resist the invasion.

He delivered personal messages from Saddam, along with financial support, to help tribes host Iraqi soldiers stationed nearby. Mustafa later traveled to the Anbar province to rally tribes and bring them to defend Baghdad.

This account offers a rare glimpse into the behind-the-scenes efforts to resist the US invasion and the complex relationships that shaped Iraq’s history.

As the US invasion loomed, Mustafa met with thousands of tribal leaders to rally support for Baghdad’s defense.

“During the war, I met with over 4,500 tribal sheikhs from across Iraq,” he said. But when he returned to Baghdad after a trip to Anbar, everything had changed. “The city had fallen, and everything was in chaos.”

Mustafa tried to locate his associates but found no one. On April 11, 2003, he sent his driver to search for allies.

By chance, his brother, Lt. Gen. Kamal Mustafa, located him. “He told me we needed to leave Baghdad. I hadn’t planned to leave, but he convinced me it was the logical choice—we had no weapons, no men, and no resources. Staying would only mean capture.”

The brothers fled to Ramadi, where tribal leaders offered them refuge, and from there, they attempted to seek asylum in Syria. After just two days, Syrian authorities sent them back to Iraq.

Back in Baghdad, Mustafa and Khalid Najm, Iraq’s last intelligence chief, stayed with a university friend, Dr. Hafidh Al-Dulaimi. While there, Al-Dulaimi’s nephew suggested surrendering to Ahmed Chalabi’s forces, but Mustafa refused.

Saddam Hussein meets with top members of his regime. (Getty Images)

Shortly after, armed men stormed the house. “They came with tanks and masks,” Mustafa recalled. He and Najm were arrested on April 21, 2003—a day he will never forget.

Mustafa shared his experiences in US detention after his capture. “The interrogations were relentless, often involving psychological and physical pressure,” he added.

“They focused on weapons of mass destruction—’did Iraq have them, and where were they?’ Everyone faced the same questions. They also asked about US pilot Michael Scott Speicher, whose plane was shot down during the Gulf War. Though his remains were later found, the Americans kept questioning us, believing more was being hidden.”

Life in the detention center was highly controlled. Detainees were grouped in blocks of seven and given 30 minutes of outdoor time. Sultan recalled a chilling moment when Ahmed Hussein, Saddam’s office chief, told him during exercise: “The president has been captured.”

“We had clung to hope that Saddam’s freedom could lead to Iraq’s liberation,” Mustafa said. “His arrest shattered that hope and signaled the occupation’s permanence.”

He also described mysterious construction in the prison. “We saw carpenters working constantly. Eventually, they built a wooden barrier, blocking the corridor from view. We could only guess what it was for.”

When asked if Saddam had led the resistance before his capture, Mustafa confirmed: “Yes, the resistance began after the war. It wasn’t planned in advance because, at that time, the focus was purely military—army against army.”

“After the occupation, a new phase started. Battles unfolded in stages, and Saddam was leading the resistance during this one. He was the hope of the resistance, of the Iraqi people, and of Arabs and Muslims,” Mustafa revealed.

His remarks offer a glimpse into the post-invasion dynamics and the symbolic role Saddam played during Iraq’s turbulent transition.

Mustafa also recounted the difficulty of reaching his family after his arrest.

“After my capture, I lost all contact with my family. I didn’t have any phone numbers for my brothers, friends, or colleagues. Even if I had, phone lines had been disrupted—many exchanges had been bombed, and communication in Iraq was severely impacted,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

Mustafa recalled an encounter with the International Red Cross during his detention.

Saddam Hussein and his daughter Hala. (Courtesy of the family)

“The Red Cross offered me the chance to write a message to my family, as is their usual practice. But I was at a loss—who could I write to? I had no idea where my brothers or family were. I didn’t know anything about their whereabouts.”

Then, Mustafa had an idea. “I thought of Ammo Baba, a well-known football coach in Iraq. I didn’t know his address, but I remembered the address of the Police Club, where I had been president. I decided to write the letter there, addressed to Ammo Baba, asking him to pass it on to my family.”

Mustafa’s story highlights the communication challenges and isolation faced by detainees during the Iraq War.

He then described the prolonged separation from his family following his arrest. “I had no hopes of hearing from my family when I sent my letter through Ammo Baba,” Mustafa said.

“The situation was too difficult. After two and a half to three months, I received a response from Ammo Baba. He sent his regards, inquired about my health, and included a message from Yassin, a coach who worked with me. Along with the letter, they sent me sportswear—a shirt and shorts.”

Mustafa’s communication with his family may have been limited, but the letter served as a lifeline.

“A couple of years later, I received the first message from my wife, Hala, after two years in detention.”

Jamal Mustafa Sultan with his children.

When asked if he had been separated from his family for 18 years, Mustafa confirmed: “Yes, I hadn’t seen them or my children for 18 and a half years.”

“There were no visits or conversations, except for a brief period when we were held by the Americans. During that time, they allowed us five minutes a week to speak with our families. I would split the time—two and a half minutes with my mother and siblings, and the rest with my wife and daughters,” he said.

However, he revealed that after 2010, communication was cut off entirely.

“When we were transferred to Iraqi custody, they stopped allowing any contact. I was careful not to make calls with the Iraqis, as I feared enemies or foreign agents could record them,” explained Mustafa.

Mustafa’s story underscores the isolation he endured and the limited means of contact with his loved ones during years of detention.