In Algerian Mountains, Army Operation Shows Persistent Militant Threathttps://english.aawsat.com/home/article/2780536/algerian-mountains-army-operation-shows-persistent-militant-threat
In Algerian Mountains, Army Operation Shows Persistent Militant Threat
An Algerian soldier takes a position on a look-out point during an operation against extremist militants, in the Ain Defla mountains, west of the capital Algiers, Algeria January 26, 2021. (Reuters)
In Algerian Mountains, Army Operation Shows Persistent Militant Threat
An Algerian soldier takes a position on a look-out point during an operation against extremist militants, in the Ain Defla mountains, west of the capital Algiers, Algeria January 26, 2021. (Reuters)
Algerian soldiers fired high-caliber rounds into a scrubby hillside of the Ain Defla mountains last week, part of an operation against the persistent threat of extremist militants after they launched a fresh attack last month.
They stalked in the rain between pine trees along muddy tracks, rifles raised, before dropping into a crouch, many of them too young to remember the 1990s extremist insurgency that killed 200,000 Algerians.
Two decades after that bloodshed ended, the militant threat in Algeria has mostly been contained. However, al-Qaeda and other groups including an ISIS branch still hold out in some remote areas, mostly in the vast desert border region with Sahel neighbors Mali and Niger.
The operation in Ain Defla was aimed at a small group that the army believed to be hiding in the mountains, about 180 kms (112 miles) west of the capital Algiers.
It had splintered from the Salafist Group for Preaching and Combat, one of Algeria’s oldest militant organizations and the forerunner of its al-Qaeda franchise, the army said.
Reuters and a local news agency were escorted during the operation by the military.
“Our goal is to fix, surround and liquidate a group of terrorists in this perimeter,” said an army captain, calling it a combat mission.
His column of five vehicles crawled across the barren terrain, using jamming devices to prevent militants using cell phones to detonate explosives.
In the wet weather, it took the column nearly two hours to drive just 50 kms (30 miles) along the marshy tracks under the 2,000-metre (6,000-ft) peak of Mount Ouarsenis.
In one place, soldiers sat behind sandbags under a bivouac looking out across a mountain valley, the wind ruffling the camouflage pattern sheet above them.
Extremist struggle
Large-caliber gunfire rattled out across the landscape. The soldiers were shooting into an area they could not reach.
“These shots are intended to clean areas where terrorists may be hiding,” a colonel said.
Algeria’s main security focus has shifted in recent years from the internal threat that once ran rampant through rural areas and dense cities to borders with unstable neighbors.
“They are small in numbers, so you need to hunt them one by one,” a security source said of militant groups still present in Algeria.
Though some militants remain in areas like Ain Defla, the region’s traditional pastoral life continues.
Lazali Belgacem, an animal herder in a brown hooded robe and yellow turban, said he felt safer than in the past as he led a donkey across a mountainside, his cows walking ahead.
“I used to be very afraid of terrorists. They might kill or kidnap you,” he said.
In January, three soldiers and six armed men were killed in clashes in the Tipaza region, between Ain Defla and Algiers.
It was a relatively rare recent episode in an extremist struggle that has mostly moved into the deep Sahara.
Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM), the most potent militant group operating in North Africa, has found more room for maneuverer in the insurgencies rattling Mali and Niger.
The former AQIM chief Abdelmalek Droukdel was killed in Mali last year. His successor, Algerian Abu Obaida Yusuf al-Annabi, is also thought to be based there.
AQIM was set up in 2007, but has not carried out any big attacks since the 2013 assault on a desert gas plant in which 40 workers and more than 20 militants were killed.
Last year the Defense Ministry said it had killed 21 militants in Algeria. According to constitutional changes approved in a referendum last year, the military will in future be able to operate beyond Algeria’s borders in some cases.
Jamal Mustafa to Asharq Al-Awsat: I Couldn’t Provide Bribe Demanded by Judge, So I Was Jailed for Another 10 Yearshttps://english.aawsat.com/features/5085869-jamal-mustafa-asharq-al-awsat-i-couldn%E2%80%99t-provide-bribe-demanded-judge-so-i-was
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.
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.
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.
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.
“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.”
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.