Lebanese Elite Bury Blast Probe, Pushing Fragile State Closer to Edge

A woman holds pictures of the victims of the deadly 2020 Beirut port explosion next to a Lebanese National flag that the red colors were changed to black as a symbol to mourning during a protest in front of the Justice Palace, in Beirut, Lebanon, Thursday, Jan. 26, 2023. (AP)
A woman holds pictures of the victims of the deadly 2020 Beirut port explosion next to a Lebanese National flag that the red colors were changed to black as a symbol to mourning during a protest in front of the Justice Palace, in Beirut, Lebanon, Thursday, Jan. 26, 2023. (AP)
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Lebanese Elite Bury Blast Probe, Pushing Fragile State Closer to Edge

A woman holds pictures of the victims of the deadly 2020 Beirut port explosion next to a Lebanese National flag that the red colors were changed to black as a symbol to mourning during a protest in front of the Justice Palace, in Beirut, Lebanon, Thursday, Jan. 26, 2023. (AP)
A woman holds pictures of the victims of the deadly 2020 Beirut port explosion next to a Lebanese National flag that the red colors were changed to black as a symbol to mourning during a protest in front of the Justice Palace, in Beirut, Lebanon, Thursday, Jan. 26, 2023. (AP)

In their move to bury an investigation into the Beirut port blast, Lebanon's ruling elite have driven another nail in the coffin of the collapsing state, stirring conflict in the judiciary as they try to avoid accountability at any cost.

Long-simmering tensions over the investigation have boiled over since Judge Tarek Bitar brought charges against some of the most influential people in the land, defying political pressure as he resumed his inquiry.

With friends and allies of Lebanon's most powerful factions, including Hezbollah, among those charged, the establishment struck back swiftly on Wednesday, when the prosecutor general charged Bitar with usurping powers.

Critics called it "a coup" against his investigation.

It leaves little hope of justice ever being served over the explosion that killed 220 people and devastated swathes of Beirut, raising concern the case will go the way of countless others in a country where impunity has long been the norm.

With deep fissures in the judiciary exposed, the tussle adds to the unravelling of a state accelerated by a three-year-long financial crisis, left to fester by the ruling elite.

"This is the destruction of the judiciary," said Nabil Boumonsef, deputy editor-in-chief of Annahar newspaper.

"I fear they are dismantling the country. There is nothing left called a state. We face anarchy and the law of the jungle."

Lebanon has been rocked by one crisis after another since its financial system caved in, marking the start of its most destabilizing phase since the 1975-90 civil war.

A currency collapse of more than 97% since 2019 has picked up speed in recent days, impoverishing ever more people.

Some 2.3 million people - 42% of the population - will face acute food insecurity in the first quarter of this year, according to a UN-backed study.

Foreign aid has become ever more critical to keeping people fed and the security forces on the streets: the United States and Qatar are helping pay soldiers' salaries.

Ruling politicians have meanwhile done little to nothing to address the crisis, putting vested interests ahead of reform.

Establishment shields itself

On the political front, factional rivalries, many of which date to the civil war, have spawned an unprecedented government crisis laced with sectarianism.

The presidency, reserved for a Maronite Christian, has been vacant for months. Maronite leaders, warning against any move to bypass their sect, have objected to meetings of the caretaker cabinet.

Against this backdrop, European prosecutors are digging ever deeper into allegations that central bank governor Riad Salameh - a financial linchpin for Lebanon's rulers with deep political ties - embezzled hundreds of millions of dollars during his 30-year-long tenure. Salameh denies any wrongdoing.

Attempts by a Lebanese judge to investigate Salameh have hit obstacles in Lebanon, where politicians have big sway over the judiciary.

The difficulties echo the problems faced by Bitar, appointed to investigate the blast two years ago. His predecessor was ousted after complaints against him by officials he had charged.

"There is a systemic attempt by the establishment to protect its members from the port explosion, from the financial implosions, and from all ... they have actually been responsible for," Policy Initiative Director Sami Atallah said.

The blast was caused by hundreds of tons of improperly stored chemicals of which the president and prime minister at the time were aware, among other officials.

All those charged deny wrongdoing.

Bitar's inquiry was frozen when judges retired from a court that must rule on complaints filed against him by officials he had charged, including top members of Parliament Speaker Nabih Berri's Amal Movement.

The Berri-backed finance minister held off signing a decree appointing new judges, prompting fears of an indefinite limbo.

Resuming his work on Monday, Bitar charged more officials including Prosecutor General Ghassan Oweidat and Major General Abbas Ibrahim.

Oweidat had earlier recused himself from any involvement in the case as his brother-in-law, an Amal member and former minister, was among those charged.

This week Oweidat hit back at Bitar, including by ordering the release of people detained since the port explosion.

"This is like a coup - a person charged by a judge decided to defend himself by pushing aside the judge who charged him and releasing all the detainees," said Nizar Saghieh of the Legal Agenda civic group.

Sectarian tensions

Doubting local authorities will bring anyone to account over the explosion, some Lebanese called for an international inquiry from the start.

It would not be the first: a UN-backed tribunal set up after the 2005 Rafik al-Hariri assassination ultimately convicted a Hezbollah member of conspiracy to kill him.

The Iran-backed Hezbollah, which always denied any role, condemned the tribunal as a tool of its enemies.

In opposing Bitar, Hezbollah has accused the United States of meddling in the investigation and Bitar of political bias.

Washington denies interfering.

Hezbollah believes Bitar's decision to resume the inquiry stemmed from his recent meeting with French judges investigating the blast, which killed two French citizens, according to a source familiar with Hezbollah's view.

Bitar could not be reached for comment.

In 2021, a Hezbollah official sent a message to Bitar vowing to "uproot" him, and its supporters marched in an anti-Bitar rally that prompted deadly violence along an old civil war front line between Christian and Shiite neighborhoods.

Mohanad Hage Ali of the Carnegie Middle East Center think tank said derailing the inquiry could worsen sectarian tensions.

With the presidency empty, sectarian rhetoric sharpening, the currency tumbling, and people taking security into their own hands in some areas, Hage Ali said "the ingredients are there" for any street clashes to be worse than in 2021.

"If there is a demonstration of the families of the victims, and their supporters, leading to clashes, casualties or arrests, that could definitely well be the breaking point towards wider unrest."



Long Silenced by Fear, Syrians Now Speak about Rampant Torture under Assad

People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)
People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)
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Long Silenced by Fear, Syrians Now Speak about Rampant Torture under Assad

People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)
People walk through a corridor of Syria's infamous Saydnaya military prison, just north of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 9, 2024. (AP)

Handcuffed and squatting on the floor, Abdullah Zahra saw smoke rising from his cellmate’s flesh as his torturers gave him electric shocks.

Then it was Zahra’s turn. They hanged the 20-year-old university student from his wrists and electrocuted and beat him for two hours. They made his father watch and taunted him about his son’s torment.

That was 2012, and the entire security apparatus of Syria’s then-President Bashar Assad was deployed to crush the protests against his rule.

With Assad’s fall a month ago, the machinery of death that he ran is starting to come out into the open.

It was systematic and well-organized, growing to more than 100 detention facilities into which tens of thousands disappeared over more than a decade. Torture, sexual violence and mass executions were rampant, according to rights groups and former prisoners.

A blanket of fear kept Syrians silent about their experiences or lost loved ones. But now, everyone is talking. After the insurgents who swept Assad out of power on Dec. 8 opened prisons and detention facilities, crowds swarmed in, searching for answers, bodies of loved ones, and ways to heal.

The Associated Press visited seven of these facilities in Damascus and spoke to nine former detainees. Some details of the accounts by those who spoke to the AP could not be independently confirmed, but they matched past reports by former detainees to human rights groups.

Days after Assad’s fall, Zahra — now 33 — came to visit Branch 215, a detention facility run by military intelligence in Damascus where he was held for two months.

There, he said, he was kept in a windowless underground cell, 4-by-4-meters (yards) and crammed with 100 other inmates. When ventilators were cut off -- either intentionally or because of a power failure -- some suffocated. Men went mad; torture wounds festered. When a cellmate died, they stowed his body next to the cell’s toilet until jailers collected corpses, Zahra said.

“Death was the least bad thing,” he said. “We reached a place where death was easier than staying here for one minute.”

A member of the security forces for the new interim Syrian government stands next to prison cells at the Palestine Branch, a detention facility operated by the General Intelligence Agency during Bashar al-Assad's regime, in Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 14, 2024. (AP)

Assad’s system of repression grew as civil war raged

After he and his father were released, Zahra fled to opposition-held areas. Within a few months, security agents returned and dragged off 13 of his male relatives, including a younger brother and, again, his father.

All were killed. Zahra later recognized their bodies among photos leaked by a defector showing thousands killed in detention. Their bodies were never recovered.

Rights groups estimate at least 150,000 people went missing since anti-government protests began in 2011, most vanishing into detention facilities. Many were killed, either in mass executions or from torture and prison conditions. The exact number remains unknown.

Even before the uprising, Assad had ruled with an iron fist. But as protests turned into a civil war that would last 14 years, Assad expanded his system of repression. New detention facilities run by military, security and intelligence agencies sprung up in security compounds, military airports and under buildings.

At Branch 215, Zahra hoped to find some sign of his lost relatives. But there was nothing. At home, his aunt, Rajaa Zahra, looked at the leaked pictures of her killed children for the first time – something she had long refused to do. She lost four of her six sons in Assad’s crackdowns. Her brother, she said, lost two of his three sons.

“They were hoping to finish off all the young men of the country.”

A site believed to be a mass grave for detainees killed under Bashar al-Assad's rule is visible in Najha, south of Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 17, 2024. (AP)

Syrians were tortured with ‘the tire’ and ‘magic carpet’

The tortures had names. One was called the “magic carpet,” where a detainee was strapped to a hinged wooden plank that bends in half, folding his head to his feet, which were then beaten.

Abdul-Karim Hajeko said he endured this five times. His torturers stomped on his back during interrogations at the Criminal Security branch, and his vertebrae are still broken.

“My screams would go to heaven. Once a doctor came down from the fourth floor (to the ground floor) because of my screams,” he said.

He was also put in “the tire.” His legs were bent inside a car tire as interrogators beat his back and feet. Afterward, they ordered him to kiss the tire and thank it for teaching him “how to behave.”

Many prisoners said the tire was inflicted for rule violations -- like making noise, raising one’s head in front of guards, or praying – or for no reason at all.

Saleh Turki Yahia said a cellmate died nearly every day during the seven months in 2012 he was held at the Palestine Branch, a detention facility run by the General Intelligence Agency. He said he was given electric shocks, hanged from his wrists, beaten on his feet. He lost half his body weight and nearly tore his own skin scratching from scabies.

“They broke us,” he said, breaking into tears as he visited the Palestine Branch. “A whole generation is destroyed.”

Documents are scattered around Branch 215, a detention facility run by Bashar al-Assad's regime, in Damascus, Syria, on Dec. 17, 2024. (AP)

The mounting evidence will be used in trials

Now comes the monumental task of accounting for the missing and compiling evidence that could one day be used to prosecute Assad’s officials, whether by Syrian or international courts.

Hundreds of thousands of documents remain scattered throughout detention facilities. Some seen by the AP included transcripts of phone conversations; intelligence files on activists; and a list of hundreds of prisoners killed in detention. At least 15 mass graves have been identified around Damascus and elsewhere around the country.

A UN body known as the International Impartial and Independent Mechanism has offered to help the new interim administration in collecting, organizing and analyzing all the material. Since 2011, it has been compiling evidence and supporting investigations in over 200 criminal cases against figures in Assad’s government.

Many want answers now.

Officials cannot just declare that the missing are presumed dead, said Wafaa Mustafa, a Syrian journalist, whose father was detained and killed 12 years ago.

“No one gets to tell the families what happened without evidence, without search, without work.”