Elias Atallah: Syrian Officer Jameh Jameh Pressed the Button and Killed President René Moawad

Elias Atallah (not seen) holds a photo of George Hawi and Samir Kassir during Kassir’s funeral in 2005 (AFP)
Elias Atallah (not seen) holds a photo of George Hawi and Samir Kassir during Kassir’s funeral in 2005 (AFP)
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Elias Atallah: Syrian Officer Jameh Jameh Pressed the Button and Killed President René Moawad

Elias Atallah (not seen) holds a photo of George Hawi and Samir Kassir during Kassir’s funeral in 2005 (AFP)
Elias Atallah (not seen) holds a photo of George Hawi and Samir Kassir during Kassir’s funeral in 2005 (AFP)

In this final part of an interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, Elias Atallah, former political bureau member of the Lebanese Communist Party and coordinator of operations for the Lebanese National Resistance Front (JNFR), recounted a turbulent chapter of Lebanon’s modern history.

Atallah revisited the blood-soaked years of the 1980s, when Lebanon was torn apart by wars with Israel, battles in Beirut, and the volatile triangle of Syrian, Palestinian and Lebanese entanglements. He said his experience had been “harsh and painful.”

Confrontation with Israel had reached its zenith; the price of war in Beirut had been high; and relations within the Lebanese-Palestinian-Syrian triangle had been dangerously booby-trapped.

He said that a long-running exchange of strikes had taken place, between the Communist Party and Elie Hobeika, who served as the security chief and later head of the Lebanese Forces.

“I met him about twenty times,” Atallah explained. “He was a man without a heart and absolutely without feeling. It would be wrong to call him pragmatic. He was Machiavellian, willing to do anything to get what he wanted. He was physically brave and would openly state his opinion. He tried to present himself as a deep intelligence man. He had no cultural formation but he was physically strong and courageous.”

Atallah recounted a hunting trip that illustrated Hobeika’s ruthlessness. “I intended to go to Syria to shoot birds,” he said. “George Hawi (the Communist Party’s secretary-general) said we would go together with Elie Hobeika. I disliked the idea but I went. In the wheat plain I noticed Hobeika sliding the rifle under his arm and firing - a method that did not hit birds but could be used against people. I told him, ‘It seems you only go hunting people.’ He replied, ‘Yes, I killed people, but they deserved to die.’ We argued. George invited us to lunch; he had bought a lamb. I pretended I would join them but I climbed into a car and returned to Beirut.”

Atallah added that Hobeika boasted of operations he had carried out, including the explosive device that struck the Communist Party office on Baalbek Street near the Arab University. “We were supposed to hold a Central Council meeting,” he said. “It seems Hobeika received information, so he put his men to plant the explosives. Chance played its role. Our comrade George Batal asked me to drive him to the meeting and I was delayed a few minutes. I was about 150 meters away when the blast shook out. There were dead and injured.”

Atallah also described kidnappings. “One day Hobeika’s group kidnapped three of our youths in the Jiyyeh area; they were transporting explosives for the resistance. I had no option but to kidnap an important person in return,” he recalled. “That was what happened. Two were released because he had killed the third. They two told us Hobeika’s fighters were testing new rifles and pistols by firing at captives they had.”

When asked whether the two men had spoken about the Iranian diplomats whose fate later became the subject of rumors - that one of them had died while his captors were testing a firearm on the bulletproof vest he had been compelled to wear - Atallah replied: “I did not know the fate of the Iranian diplomats, but Hobeika told me in a meeting that he had kidnapped them.”

The former Lebanese Communist Party official contended that Hafez al-Assad had not stopped at Hobeika’s past because he sought to push through a “tripartite agreement,” a formula Atallah described as “a plan to consume Lebanon.” He suggested that Hobeika’s relationship with General Michel Aoun (who later became president) had not begun in the mid-1980s as commonly reported; rather, Atallah believed they had “a prior relationship somewhere in Syria, a matter that required research to untangle.”

He claimed Walid Jumblatt had suffered humiliations under Hafez al-Assad, including being forced to eat lunch with military officers among them Major General Ibrahim Huweija, who had overseen the assassination of Jumblatt’s father, Kamal. While Atallah did not deny that Assad supplied Jumblatt with weapons and tanks during the Mountain War, he stressed that Assad had not given Jumblatt “the right to decide.”

The Soviet abduction

Atallah described the 1985 abduction of four Soviet embassy staff in Beirut in detail. “They called us at the Soviet embassy,” he said. “They told me that yesterday four people from the embassy apparatus were kidnapped; I did not think they were high-ranking, then they disappeared.”

Despite intense searching, day after day, they had found no trace. Walid Jumblatt mobilized everything he had; Atallah and his group did all they could, both publicly and covertly. Days passed without a hint.

Then a senior KGB general, “Yuri,” arrived as an envoy. He thanked them and, it seemed, realized they had failed to locate the missing men. “He told me, in broken Arabic: ‘Look, sheikh; today the detainees ate a breakfast that included labneh, olives and cucumbers, and they were wearing striped pajamas of a particular color. Your fate is at stake. We, the Soviet Union, do not let these matters pass without consequence, be it from the small or the big. I expect them tomorrow at 4 pm, and after that everyone will know his role.’”

General Yuri went alone to see Sayyed Mohammad Hussein Fadlallah, the cleric often portrayed in the media as the spiritual godfather of Hezbollah, a depiction Atallah said he did not necessarily accept as accurate. Fadlallah received him and, by four in the afternoon, three of the four Soviets had been released. Fadlallah’s guards explained that the fourth Soviet had resisted during the transfer, tried to seize a rifle, and was shot dead. The account appeared credible, as he had been killed only recently.

Finger-pointing fell on the Islamic Dawa Party and on an element hidden under the mantle of the Amal movement.

On assassinations and Tripoli battles

Atallah denied that the Communist Party had planned the assassination of Bashir Gemayel. “Absolutely not,” he insisted. “From the time I led these apparatuses, we decided in principle to refuse involvement in assassinations. There was one assassination attempt on General Michel Aoun in the Baabda palace courtyard, and when the Syrian army moved to remove Aoun, the perpetrator fired and we took custody of him. That attempt did not go through us.”

On the battles in Tripoli in the north, Atallah pointed to a bitter rift between Hafez al-Assad and Yasser Arafat. “One day Assad told him: ‘I will pursue an independent decision. Independent of whom?’ Arafat replied: ‘Independent of you. You do not recognize Palestine; Palestine, in turn, does not recognize Syria.’”

Arafat returned to Tripoli in 1983 and entered what Atallah described as Assad’s personal battle with the Palestinian leader. “One hundred percent, it was a mistake for us to participate,” Atallah admitted. “We should have declared ourselves unable to intervene.”

The Communist Party paid dearly: 34 dead in the first round in 1983, and 21 more in the second round during the period of Sheikh Saeed Shaaban. “We paid 55 martyrs for no justification,” he said.

A meeting with Hafez al-Assad

Atallah recalled a 1984 visit with George Hawi to Hafez al-Assad in which Hawi had pushed for immediate unity between Lebanon and Syria. The idea, Atallah said, had been alien to Lebanese sentiment and even dangerous.

In their palace meeting Assad spoke for two hours, repeating themes that were familiar from other encounters, according to Atallah. Oddly, Assad probed into where exactly Atallah lived in Ramlet, down to the house’s location on the side of the road near Saida. As they departed, Assad turned to Hawi with a warning: “Never repeat the story of immediate Lebanon-Syria unity. This talk is dangerous and forbidden. There are things to be carried out silently, without words.”

On Hariri, Hawi and Syrian-Iranian partnerships

When asked who killed Prime Minister Rafik Hariri, Atallah answered bluntly: “Three, and one leader: Bashar al-Assad.” He argued that after the departure of investigator Detlev Mehlis, the tribunal had lost its way. He named Assef Shawkat and other Syrian officers, as well as Hezbollah, as participants. He noted wryly that all Syrian intelligence officers who had overseen Lebanon were themselves later killed, including Rustom Ghazaleh, who was “torn to pieces.”

As for George Hawi’s assassination, Atallah maintained that until 2005 most assassinations in Lebanon were Syrian operations, but from that year onward there had been Syrian-Iranian partnerships in carrying out killings.

The killing of René Moawad

The climax of Atallah’s testimony came with his version of the assassination of President René Moawad, elected on November 5, 1989. Moawad had no presidential palace or guard, as Baabda Palace was still held by General Michel Aoun. He lived instead in a Hariri-owned building in West Beirut, considered secure because it lay inside the Syrian intelligence perimeter.

Atallah said Syrian intelligence had placed Major Jameh Jameh in charge of Moawad’s security, with Ghazi Kanaan and Hafez al-Assad’s blessing. Moawad, suspicious, had asked that Jameh be lodged in the adjacent Beaurivage Hotel and kept away from his entourage.

Atallah then recounted a chilling episode: A Communist soldier, recruited into Moawad’s guard at Syrian request, was later given a tiny explosive to attach to the president’s clothing during a church crowd in Ehden. Atallah said he learned of the plan and warned Moawad personally, along with George Hawi and Karim Mroueh. He remembered Moawad’s hands trembling as he heard the soldier’s name and the Syrian officer behind the plot.

The attempt failed when the soldier vanished. Ten days later, Moawad was killed. Witnesses later told Atallah they saw Jameh Jameh on the rooftop of the building, holding a device. “He pressed the button and the explosion went off,” they said. Jameh descended calmly and walked away.

Reflections on failure and lessons

Atallah ended the final part of his Asharq Al-Awsat interview with reflections on the futility of the cycle of violence. “I review this past not because I want to live in it, but because I hope no one will repeat it,” he said. His aim was twofold: “To state my criticisms of what happened, and to show the truth about the national resistance and the failure of resistances that were political projects, not national ones.”

He continued: “Hezbollah’s so-called resistance was not resistance. It was the occupation of the liberated land and turned into a profession. Resistance ceased to be a mission and became a career.”

Response from the Ibrahim Qais Family to Elias Atallah’s Testimony 

To the esteemed Editor-in-Chief and Editorial Board of Asharq Al-Awsat:  

We, the family of the late Ibrahim Qais, address you with this letter in exercise of our right of reply to what was stated in the interview titled: “Elias Atallah: Syrian Officer Jameh Jameh Pressed the Button and Killed President René Moawad”, published in your newspaper on September 20, 2025.  

We kindly request that you publish this response in full, in order to preserve the credibility of your newspaper and to clarify the facts:  

What was attributed to the late Ibrahim Qais by Mr. Elias Atallah in the interview is completely false.  

Our father was not a witness to what Atallah claims, and he never said that he saw Jameh Jameh press the detonation button in the assassination of President René Moawad.  

The truth is that on October 22, 1989, Independence Day, we - the Qais family - were gathered with the family of our friend Majed Muqalled for lunch at our home, located near the Daaboul Travel Agency building, opposite a plot of land that separated us from Beirut prison. Muqalled, like our father, was seated with us. When the presidential convoy passed by the house, Majed went out onto the balcony to watch, and the explosion occurred at that very moment.  

The violent blast came from the Flippers playroom, which was adjacent to Raml al-Zarif School, where an explosive device had been detonated remotely. We experienced that horrifying moment in which the windows shattered and the house was damaged, and several family members and neighbors were injured.  

Our father, who rushed to help our wounded mother, was not observing the buildings or following any specific individuals; he was in the midst of the destroyed house, searching for his children and aiding the injured.  

Mr. Atallah’s claim that Jameh Jameh was seen on the roof of a building across the street pressing the detonation button contradicts both logic and the facts:  

First: Jameh Jameh was part of the convoy itself, as confirmed by MP Michel Moawad in a documented testimony, and the Syrian officer’s cars were about 150 meters ahead of the vehicle carrying the martyred president. 

Second: The buildings that Atallah claims our father and Majed Muqalled witnessed the explosion from were at the very heart of the blast and were directly damaged. 

Third: There was no way anyone could have witnessed the “pressing of the button”; we were all victims of this criminal explosion, right at the scene of the crime.  

If Atallah’s statements were truly accurate, why did he not report them during his years in a position of decision-making within the Communist Party, or in the years that followed? Why did he not disclose them while serving as a member of parliament for the city of Tripoli? It would have been more appropriate for him to show the courage to confront the truth directly instead of hiding behind colleagues who have passed away and can no longer refute his fabrications.  

Mr. Atallah’s attempt to implicate our late father Ibrahim Qais as a sole witness - alive, according to his account - in one of the most serious political and security cases in Lebanese history is nothing but a baseless slander lacking any credibility.  

Our father, the well-known communist activist, never exploited bloodshed and never accepted being part of a game of defamation or falsification. 



Obeidat to Asharq Al-Awsat: Gaddafi Tried to Assassinate King Hussein with Missile Given to Wadie Haddad

King Hussein and Moammar Gaddafi holding talks on the sidelines of an Arab summit in Cairo in 1970 (AFP).
King Hussein and Moammar Gaddafi holding talks on the sidelines of an Arab summit in Cairo in 1970 (AFP).
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Obeidat to Asharq Al-Awsat: Gaddafi Tried to Assassinate King Hussein with Missile Given to Wadie Haddad

King Hussein and Moammar Gaddafi holding talks on the sidelines of an Arab summit in Cairo in 1970 (AFP).
King Hussein and Moammar Gaddafi holding talks on the sidelines of an Arab summit in Cairo in 1970 (AFP).

In the second installment of his interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, former Jordanian prime minister and intelligence chief Ahmad Obeidat recounts details of a missile plot to assassinate King Hussein, which he says was backed by Muammar Gaddafi and carried out through operatives linked to Wadie Haddad, head of the external operations arm of the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine.

Obeidat, who also served as head of intelligence and as minister of interior and defense, revisits the confrontation between Israeli forces, the Jordanian army, and Palestinian guerrillas (fedayeen) in the border town of Karameh in March 1968, asserting that the Jordanian army “decided the battle,” but suffered a “moral defeat amid the fedayeen’s claims of victory.”

Obeidat died earlier this month. The interview was recorded before the “Al-Aqsa Flood,” whose aftermath delayed its publication. Below is the text of the second installment.
 

King Hussein inspects an Israeli tank left behind by occupying forces during the Battle of Karameh (Getty)

“Battle of Karameh”

Obeidat calls Karameh “a pivotal point of utmost importance,” especially for an army still reeling from the 1967 defeat and its withdrawal from the West Bank.

“The army lived the bitterness of that defeat,” he says. “It felt a moral, national, and pan-Arab responsibility.”

Karameh, he argues, offered a chance to restore the army’s fighting morale and reclaim some of its lost dignity.

“It was the army that settled the battle,” Obeidat says.

He credits Jordanian forces with thwarting Israeli attempts to build crossing bridges, destroying their vehicles on Jordanian soil and forcing, for the first time in Israel’s history, a request for a ceasefire. “The late King Hussein refused,” he adds.

Israel, he says, did not acknowledge a fifth of its casualties. Helicopters were evacuating the wounded who were “dripping with blood.”

He singles out artillery observation officers who advanced to the closest possible positions, relaying precise coordinates even as they effectively marked their own locations for shelling.

“The Jordanian soldier would identify his position near the Israeli army to be shelled,” he says, describing a willingness to die in order to restore dignity after the 1967 setback.

He says the declaration of “armed struggle” effectively erased the army’s role, presenting Palestinian fedayeen as the victors over Israel. “They monopolized the victory and ignored the army’s role entirely,” Obeidat says. “We emerged with a moral defeat in the face of their claims.”

He alleges that hundreds of millions of dollars in donations collected afterward, much of it going to Fatah, did not reach the Palestinian people but went to organizations and their leaders.

When the army entered Amman in September 1970, Obeidat says, it aimed to end what he describes as chaos: armed displays, roadblocks, arrests of soldiers on leave and interference in courts.

"When the army entered and began expelling the fedayeen from Amman, it swept through everything in its path. Even my own home, which I had recently rented after my abduction incident and which was close to the army’s command headquarters, was entered by the Jordanian army to search for fedayeen, while my family was inside the house at the time of the raid. My wife told them that her husband was an intelligence officer, but the Jordanian soldier replied, “Don’t lie.”

Obeidat says they did not leave the house until she contacted him, at which point he assigned one of his officers, the commander of an intelligence company, to speak with the army.

"Only then did they leave the house. The point is that the army swept areas without distinguishing between Jordanian and Palestinian; it wanted only to restore control over security. All of this forced me to send my family to my parents’ home in Irbid, in the north of the Kingdom."

He later describes what he calls a “state within a state,” extending from the Jordan Valley to Amman, after armed groups asserted authority over courts, roads, and civilian life.

On Syria’s intervention, Obeidat says Syrian forces entered northern Jordan flying Palestine Liberation Organization flags.

He later learned the decision was political, taken by the Baath Party, and that then-Defense Minister Hafez al-Assad complied reluctantly before Syrian tanks withdrew.

Iraq, he says, did not intervene. Obeidat affirms that he was told by Iraqi officials that neither the Iraqi state nor its forces intended to participate in any operation aimed at ending the Hashemite monarchy in Jordan.

According to one account, Iraqi leaders did not want to shoulder the political and diplomatic burden of the Palestinian issue or risk an uncalculated adventure.

He recounts another account, which he says he cannot adopt, according to which the operations command in the army was handled by a Pakistani figure. Under this account, Zia ul-Haq was receiving operational communications and sending messages that caused confusion among Iraqi and other forces, leading them to believe they would confront powerful strike units, prompting them to remain in a state of alert rather than engage.

He also recalls a meeting in which Palestinian figures, including Abu Iyad, reproached Iraqi President Ahmed Hassan al-Bakr. Al-Bakr replied: “We are a state with one life. If we make a fundamental mistake, we end. You are like cats with seven lives.”

As director of intelligence, Obeidat says he dealt directly with operations attributed to Haddad.

Between 1975 and 1977, he says, a missile was sent to Jordan with a group led by a Jordanian, Brik al-Hadid, affiliated with the PFLP. The target was King Hussein’s aircraft.

“The intention was to strike the plane, with Gaddafi’s knowledge and approval,” Obeidat says.

Jordanian intelligence monitored the group from the outset and later arrested its members. The king’s aircraft departed Marka military airport as scheduled but flew in the opposite direction to its planned route as a precaution, using jamming devices against any incoming missiles.

When confronted by Mudar Badran, then head of the Royal Court, Gaddafi denied knowledge. “I have no information,” Obeidat quotes him as saying.

Obeidat describes the aircraft hijackings orchestrated by Haddad as “the straw that broke the camel’s back,” contributing to the army’s intervention.

He says Jordanian intelligence had infiltrated Fatah and monitored its leaders, including Abu Iyad and Abu Yusuf al-Najjar.

In mid-1972, intelligence learned that Abu Dawood and a group were planning to enter Jordan from Baghdad to seize the Jordanian cabinet during a session and hold ministers hostage in exchange for the release of detained Fatah members.

The group crossed in three Mercedes cars, dressed in traditional Arab attire, with weapons concealed inside the seats and forged passports in hand. They were arrested at the border after a thorough search.

Obeidat rejects claims by Abu Iyad that Abu Dawood was tortured, insisting that “not a single hair on his head was touched,” and says Abu Dawood confessed only after realizing the operation had been fully uncovered.

Later, King Hussein met Abu Dawood’s parents, who pleaded for clemency. The king read the full confession and then met Abu Dawood himself. He ultimately ordered his release, honoring a promise he had made to Abu Dawood’s parents.

In Obeidat’s view, Abu Dawood was affected by the king’s treatment of his parents and “did not pose any future threat to Jordan.”

Obeidat describes a direct relationship between King Hussein and the General Intelligence Department.

The king met with officers regularly, not only to hear briefings but also to hear their personal views. 

Obeidat says he would submit reports to the prime minister and also meet with the king. When addressing the king, however, it was sometimes necessary to elaborate verbally on certain issues so that such information would not circulate among staff. 

When he was asked to present a security briefing before the king, the late King Hussein would summon Crown Prince Hassan. The king’s advisers would also attend, along with senior army commanders, the public security leadership, the head of the Royal Court, and the prime minister. The briefing of the security report would include an explanation of the security situation and any external or internal challenges.

 


Obeidat to Asharq Al-Awsat: Mystery Sniper Killed Wasfi Tal

Ahmad Obeidat during the interview with Asharq Al-Awsat's Editor-in-Chief Ghassan Charbel in Amman. (Asharq Al-Awsat)
Ahmad Obeidat during the interview with Asharq Al-Awsat's Editor-in-Chief Ghassan Charbel in Amman. (Asharq Al-Awsat)
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Obeidat to Asharq Al-Awsat: Mystery Sniper Killed Wasfi Tal

Ahmad Obeidat during the interview with Asharq Al-Awsat's Editor-in-Chief Ghassan Charbel in Amman. (Asharq Al-Awsat)
Ahmad Obeidat during the interview with Asharq Al-Awsat's Editor-in-Chief Ghassan Charbel in Amman. (Asharq Al-Awsat)

Former Jordanian Prime Minister Ahmad Obeidat, who died earlier this month, was both a key player and a witness to sensitive chapters in his country’s history.

Obeidat began his career in the 1970s as an assistant director of intelligence, later serving as head of the General Intelligence Department until 1982. At the height of the Palestinian-Jordanian confrontation, he was abducted by the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine before the events of September 1970.

He also served for two years as interior minister before King Hussein appointed him prime minister in early 1984, a post he held until April 1985, concurrently serving as defense minister.

For more than 15 years, Obeidat remained at the center of decision-making. He later took on roles drawing on his legal background, from chairing the Royal Commission that drafted the National Charter in the early 1990s to serving in human rights and judicial positions, most recently as head of the board of trustees of the National Center for Human Rights until 2008.

Weeks before Oct. 7, 2023, the day of the Al-Aqsa Flood Operation, Asharq Al-Awsat met Obeidat in Amman. The interview had been scheduled for publication in October 2023, but the major developments that followed led to its postponement, particularly as Obeidat addressed contentious issues, notably Jordanian-Palestinian relations.

In the first part of the interview, Obeidat revisits his formative years, when his political and professional journey began as a law student in Baghdad on the eve of the July 14, 1958 revolution, before returning to Iraq after the fall of the monarchy amid sweeping regional transformations.

The account moves to his early professional life in Jordan, from a brief stint in legal practice to joining the Public Security Directorate, then serving in the Political Investigations Office, which formed the nucleus of organized intelligence work. It concludes with a detailed narrative of the establishment of the General Intelligence Department in 1964, its early structure and founding members, at a time when the Jordanian state was rebuilding its institutions in an intensely turbulent region.

Asked where he was when the 1958 revolution broke out in Iraq, Obeidat said he had completed his first year in law studies and returned to Jordan for the summer break.

“While I was in Irbid, news arrived of the July 14 revolution in Iraq that overthrew the monarchy. After the summer break ended, I went back to Baghdad, where a republican government under Abdul Karim Qassem had taken power,” he recalled.

The return was not easy. “We faced difficulties on the road. The border between Jordan and Iraq was nearly closed, so we had to return via Damascus and then through desert routes to Baghdad. It was an exhausting journey,” he added.

Obeidat left Baghdad in 1961 after completing his final exams. “On the last day of exams in the fourth year, I went home, packed and returned to Jordan the same day. The border between Baghdad and Amman had reopened.”

Among his contemporaries at law school was Saddam Hussein, who studied in the evening section. Obeidat said he saw him only once by chance. “He was with others, one of whom later became a governor,” he revealed.

He returned to Baghdad again in 1983 as Jordan’s interior minister to attend a conference of Arab interior ministers, more than two decades after graduating. There, he met his Iraqi counterpart, Saadoun Shaker. “It was an ordinary relationship,” Obeidat said, describing the ties as largely ceremonial.

From customs to intelligence

After returning to Jordan in 1961, Obeidat initially considered practicing law. But limited opportunities in Irbid and his family’s financial constraints led him to seek public employment.

He was appointed to the Customs Department in Amman, where he worked for several months before joining the Public Security Directorate in April 1962 as a first lieutenant following three months of training at the police academy.

At the time, there was no separate intelligence agency. Public Security included a branch handling general investigations. Soon after, the Political Investigations Office was formed, staffed by legal officers from the army and Public Security, including Mudar Badran and Adeeb Tahaoub from military justice, alongside Obeidat and Tariq Alaaeddin from Public Security.

The office handled cases referred by security and official bodies, including military intelligence and the Royal Court. After reviewing its work, the late King Hussein ordered the establishment of a legally grounded intelligence body. The General Intelligence Law was issued in 1964, formally creating the department, explained Obeidat.

Mohammad Rasoul Al-Kilani became its first director, followed by Mudar Badran, then Nadhir Rashid. Al-Kilani briefly returned before Obeidat assumed the post, succeeded later by Tariq Alaaeddin.

The shock of 1967

Recalling the 1967 war, Obeidat described it as “a defeat, not a setback. A military, political, psychological, and social defeat in every sense.”

He said there was no institutional intelligence view on Jordan’s participation. “The political opinion of a figure of Wasfi Tal’s stature was that entering the 1967 war was a mistake. He was not in office, but he remained close to the king and influential,” said Obeidat.

According to Obeidat, King Hussein believed Israel would occupy the West Bank whether Jordan participated or not.

“Participation was a gamble that might succeed or fail. The catastrophe was discovering that the Egyptian air force had been destroyed within half an hour,” he added.

Despite the bitterness, he said: “We did not fear for the regime, but we sought to contain public anger and absorb the shock.”

September and the assassination of Wasfi Tal

Obeidat first met Yasser Arafat after the events of September 1970. He confirmed that Arafat left Amman with an official Arab delegation to attend the Cairo summit and returned immediately afterward.

He recalled being informed mid-flight of the death of Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser. “King Hussein was deeply affected.”

On the assassination of Prime Minister Wasfi Tal in Cairo, Obeidat said the gunmen who confronted Tal at the hotel entrance were not responsible for the fatal shot. “The fatal bullet came from behind, from a sniper in another unseen location. To this day, the sniper has not been identified,” he added.

He rejected the notion that Tal had been reckless. “Wasfi was not a gambler. He had a distinct political project,” he stressed.

Obeidat said the Black September Organization accused Tal of ordering the expulsion of fedayeen from forested areas in Jerash and Ajloun. He denied that Tal was directly responsible, saying the clashes began after fedayeen attacked a police station and killed officers, prompting a spontaneous army response.

Abduction without interrogation

Before September 1970, Obeidat was abducted by the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine while serving as assistant intelligence director.

Armed vehicles stopped his car as he was leaving his home in Jabal Al-Taj with his family. He and his brother-in-law were taken to the Wehdat camp. “We were treated politely. We drank tea. No one asked me a single question,” he recalled.

After several hours, he was driven to another house in Amman and later returned home. The next morning, members of Fatah took him briefly to one of their offices, only to release him on foot without explanation.

“Not a single question was asked,” Obeidat said. “It was bewildering.”

He resumed his duties after ensuring his family’s safety. “At the time, intelligence, like any official institution, was threatened and targeted,” he said, reflecting on one of the most volatile periods in Jordan’s modern history.


Microsoft Saudi Head Affirms Kingdom Entering AI Execution Phase

Saudi Arabia shifts from AI pilots to live deployment in key sectors (Shutterstock)
Saudi Arabia shifts from AI pilots to live deployment in key sectors (Shutterstock)
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Microsoft Saudi Head Affirms Kingdom Entering AI Execution Phase

Saudi Arabia shifts from AI pilots to live deployment in key sectors (Shutterstock)
Saudi Arabia shifts from AI pilots to live deployment in key sectors (Shutterstock)

Riyadh’s hosting of the Microsoft AI Tour this week delivered a headline with concrete weight: customers will be able to run cloud workloads from a local Azure data center region starting in the fourth quarter of 2026.

The announcement was more than a technical update. It marked a shift in posture. Saudi Arabia is no longer testing artificial intelligence at the margins. It is moving decisively into execution, where infrastructure, governance, skills development, and enterprise adoption align in a single direction.

For Turki Badhris, president of Microsoft Saudi Arabia, the timing reflects years of groundwork rather than a sudden push.

“Confirming that customers will be able to run cloud workloads from the Azure data center region in the fourth quarter of 2026 gives organizations clarity and confidence as they plan their digital and AI journeys,” Badhris told Asharq Al-Awsat on the sidelines of the event.

“Clarity and confidence” may sound procedural, but they are strategic variables. Government entities and large corporations do not scale AI based solely on pilot projects.

They move when they are assured that local infrastructure is available, regulatory requirements are aligned, and long-term operational continuity is secured. The announcement of the new Azure region signals that the infrastructure layer is no longer a plan, but a scheduled commitment nearing implementation.

From pilots to production

Saudi Arabia’s AI story has unfolded in phases. The first focused on expanding digital infrastructure, developing regulatory frameworks, and strengthening cloud readiness. That phase built capacity. The current phase centers on activation and use.

Badhris said the conversation has already shifted. “We are working closely across the Kingdom with government entities, enterprises, and partners to support readiness, from data modernization and governance to skills development so that customers can move from experimentation to production with confidence.”

The distinction is fundamental. Pilots test potential. Production environments reshape workflows.

Companies such as Qiddiya Investment Company and ACWA Power illustrate that transition. Rather than treating AI as isolated pilot initiatives, these organizations are embedding it into daily operations.

ACWA Power is using Azure AI services and the Intelligent Data Platform to optimize energy and water operations globally, with a strong focus on sustainability and resource efficiency through predictive maintenance and AI-driven optimization.

Qiddiya has expanded its use of Microsoft 365 Copilot to enable employees to summarize communications, analyze data, and interact with dashboards across hundreds of assets and contractors.

AI is no longer operating at the margins of the enterprise. It is becoming part of the operating core, a sign of institutional maturity. The technology is shifting from showcase tool to productivity engine.

Infrastructure as strategic signal

The Azure data center region in eastern Saudi Arabia offers advantages that go beyond lower latency. It strengthens data residency, supports compliance requirements, and reinforces digital sovereignty frameworks.

In highly regulated sectors such as finance, health care, energy, and government services, alignment with regulatory requirements is not optional; it is essential.

Badhris described the milestone as part of a long-term commitment. “This achievement represents an important milestone in our long-term commitment to enable real and scalable impact for the public and private sectors in the Kingdom,” he said.

The emphasis on scalable impact reflects a more profound understanding: infrastructure does not create value on its own, but enables the conditions for value creation. Saudi Arabia is treating AI as core economic infrastructure, comparable to energy or transport networks, and is using it to form the foundation for productivity gains.

Governance as accelerator

Globally, AI regulation is often seen as a constraint. In the Saudi case, governance appears embedded in the acceleration strategy. Adoption in sensitive sectors requires clear trust frameworks. Compliance cannot be an afterthought; it must be built into design.

Aligning cloud services with national digital sovereignty requirements reduces friction at scale. When organizations trust that compliance is integrated into the platform itself, expansion decisions move faster. In that sense, governance becomes an enabler.

The invisible constraint

While generative AI dominates headlines, the larger institutional challenge often lies in data architecture. Fragmented systems, organizational silos, and the absence of unified governance can hinder scaling.

Saudi Arabia's strategy focuses on data modernization as a foundation. A structured and integrated data environment is a prerequisite for effective AI use. Without it, AI remains superficial.

Another global challenge is the skills gap. Saudi Arabia has committed to training three million people by 2030. The focus extends beyond awareness to practical application. Transformation cannot succeed without human capital capable of integrating AI into workflows.

Badhris underscored that skills development is part of a broader readiness ecosystem. Competitiveness in the AI era, he said, is measured not only by model capability but by the workforce’s ability to deploy it.

Sector transformation as economic strategy

The Riyadh AI Tour highlighted sector use cases in energy, giga projects, and government services. These are not peripheral applications but pillars of Vision 2030. AI’s role in optimizing energy management supports sustainability. In major projects, it enhances execution efficiency. In government services, it improves the citizen experience.

AI here is not a standalone industry but a horizontal productivity driver.

Positioning in the global landscape

Global AI leadership is typically measured across four pillars: compute capacity, governance, ecosystem integration, and skills readiness. Saudi Arabia is moving to align these elements simultaneously.

The new Azure region provides computing. Regulatory frameworks strengthen trust. Partnerships support ecosystem integration. Training programs raise skills readiness.

Saudi Arabia is entering a decisive stage in its AI trajectory. Infrastructure is confirmed. Enterprise use cases are expanding. Governance is embedded. Skills are advancing.

Badhris said the announcement gives institutions “clarity and confidence” to plan their journey. That clarity may mark the difference between ambition and execution. In that sense, the Microsoft tour in Riyadh signaled that infrastructure is no longer the objective, but the platform on which transformation is built.