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Berlin... Ukraine Crisis to Birth New Era Bearing Putin’s Fingerprints

Demonstration in front of the Brandenburg Gate in central Berlin against the Russian war in Ukraine (EPA)
Demonstration in front of the Brandenburg Gate in central Berlin against the Russian war in Ukraine (EPA)
    Berlin - Ghassan Charbel
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Berlin... Ukraine Crisis to Birth New Era Bearing Putin’s Fingerprints

Demonstration in front of the Brandenburg Gate in central Berlin against the Russian war in Ukraine (EPA)
Demonstration in front of the Brandenburg Gate in central Berlin against the Russian war in Ukraine (EPA)

Journalists are like grave diggers. They live off the tragedies of the world. They dream of being present at major turns and events that are usually soaked in blood, costly to the economy and beget refugees. They find joy in writing from within upheaval. In that tradition, I am writing this article.

Shortly after my arrival in Berlin, I felt the ‘end of an era,’ the conclusion of a chapter in the life of Europe and the world, and the birth of a chapter bears the hallmarks of the Tsar sitting on Lenin’s throne.

More than three decades ago, Asharq Al-Awsat sent me to this place. Together with an army of journalists, I witnessed the death of the most famous generals of the second half of the last century. Its name was the Berlin Wall.

Experience suggests that journalists yearn for the scenes of violent shocks just as the perpetrator longs for the scene of his crime. Maybe that's why I took my bag to that town. Perhaps I was motivated by the desire to witness the end of the world that was born from the collapse of that Wall.

When I slept near the Wall in 1989, I did not know the name of the man who they say today killed one world and gave birth to another. There was no reason to know his name. He was an unknown man working for a mysterious service and living under an alias.

His task was thorny: detect and recruit spies. He was trained in sensitive activities such as escaping censorship and prosecution, writing in secret ink, and dealing painful blows if necessary.

The colonel was staying in Dresden, that is, in the country of the “comrades” in East Germany. When the Wall collapsed, he burned some papers and left in disappointment to await new directions from his superiors in the “KGB” empire.

Salt was rubbed into the wound when Russia emerged from the Soviet rubble and was betrayed by many republics that were in the grip of the party. The name of the unknown colonel was Vladimir Putin, and in the new century we will spend thousands of hours tracing his footsteps and searching for his fingerprints.

In 1991, the weld keeping the Soviet Union together disappeared. On the last day of the decade, Putin emerged from the Kremlin carrying a revenge project, which many say was cooked in a military-security room that was dismayed by the humiliation of Russia and the amputation of its Soviet limbs.

Putin’s great vengeance plan was born out of suffering, economic decline, and a weaker ruble.

Red Army officers were selling their uniforms in the streets of cities. Former Russian President Boris Yeltsin's rule faltered to the tunes of corruption. Russia felt humiliated and overwhelmed after the US ambassador became the most powerful man in the country. The US diplomat demanded Lenin's country embrace the Western model that defeated it.

It was necessary to return to Berlin. The fall of the Berlin Wall had announced the birth of a new world with a sole superpower and an outrageous victory for the US. Some believe that the Ukrainian crisis today marks the death of that world and the birth of a new world bearing Putin's fingerprints.

Berlin is a sensitive place to get a good reading about the burden of the Russian war in Ukraine. It is too early to predict what the Russian adventure will lead to. Clearly, Putin has dealt a near-fatal blow to the world that was built on the ashes of the Soviet Union.

Some are confident that Russian tanks crossing the international border with Ukraine heralded the end of stability in the post-Wall world. The Russian war in Ukraine is much more dangerous than the bloody challenges the world has witnessed in the past two decades.

What Putin did is immeasurably more dangerous than what Osama bin Laden did, when he moved the war on terrorism to US soil. And much more dangerous than what Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi did when he arose from Mosul, opening the door to a self-proclaimed “caliphate” and a bloody experience that followed.

The Russian invasion of Ukraine is also more dangerous than the US’ war in Afghanistan and Iraq. The reason is simple: Putin's war in Ukraine shook the foundations of the international order. After this war, Europe will not be what it was, and the same is true for the whole world.

We are on the verge of a new world. Many are betting that it will be multipolar as the Ukraine war would not have occurred without a growing sense of a decline in US hegemony.

Many are convinced that the US has become incapable of playing the role of a policeman worldwide. They add that the US, after the experiences of China and other countries, is no longer able to claim that the West’s model is the only and obligatory path for technological progress and the fight against poverty. Putin shot the foundations of the “global village.”

What is certain is that the war in Ukraine imposed a major adjustment to the list of priorities in the West. The US was moving to focus its policy and capabilities on containing the rise of China. Suddenly, alarm bells were sounded in the capitals of NATO. The Russian menace is knocking on European doors and re-awakening ghosts that the old continent thought it had buried forever.

Europeans were dumbfounded. Millions of Ukrainian refugees were pouring into neighboring countries. Even at the height of the Yugoslav wars Europeans didn’t face such scenes. Putin went into the war to such an extent that he cannot retreat from it without achieving a coup that is beyond the capacity of the West to bear.

The Russian leader cannot return as a loser, nor can the West see him victorious. The world fell into a big trap. Europeans are watching with concern that a permanent member of the Security Council is imposing forced surgery on the map of an independent European state. The current war in Ukraine is much more dangerous than Russia's annexation of Crimea in 2014. It is also much more dangerous than Russia's military intervention in Syria the following year.

The assumption is that a multipolar world is being born. But what if the unprecedented wave of Western sanctions ruined the Russian economy? In this case, will Russia's position regress, so that the duality of US-Chinese rivalry perpetuates? Will Putin have to be the younger brother of the Russia-China alliance?

A few hundred meters from the hotel I’m staying at in Berlin, a Ukrainian flag is fluttering. I was surprised by finding pictures of Putin lying on the ground and a woman nearby holding a banner denouncing the killing of children and women in Ukraine.

At first glance, I thought that the lady was Ukrainian. When I asked, she said that she is a German volunteer who is acting on an individual initiative against “the crime that is being carried out on the territory of Ukraine.”

When I asked about the Putin posters lying on the ground, she replied: “This is their normal place in light of his actions. He is a very dangerous man to the world. Silence means repeating the experiences that killed entire peoples.”

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Gemayel to Asharq Al-Awsat: Khaddam was Assad’s Stick to Apply Pressure

Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)
Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)
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Gemayel to Asharq Al-Awsat: Khaddam was Assad’s Stick to Apply Pressure

Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)
Relations between Gemayel and Khaddam were highly tense (Getty)

Late Syrian President Hafez al-Assad was a masterful negotiator, fiercely protective of his image and reputation. He was known for exhausting his guests with lengthy detours into history before addressing the substance of any talks.

Assad had an exceptional ability to restrain his anger, circling around an issue before striking again — often with calculated patience.

He avoided coarse language, allowing resentments to speak for themselves, but he never forgave those he believed had tried to derail his vision. Among them, according to accounts, were Yasser Arafat, Kamal Jumblatt, Bashir Gemayel, Amine Gemayel, and Samir Geagea.

In dealing with rivals and pressuring opponents, Assad often relied on a trusted enforcer: Abdel Halim Khaddam, his long-time foreign minister and later vice president. In the second part of his interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, former Lebanese President Amine Gemayel said Khaddam was Assad’s “stick,” used to assert control.

Many Lebanese politicians believed Khaddam’s bluntness was not personal, but rather a reflection of an official mandate from his mentor.

Assad rarely issued direct threats. Instead, he preferred subtle intimidation — as when he told Gemayel that his aides had once suggested blowing up President Anwar Sadat’s plane to prevent him from reaching Jerusalem.

Khaddam, the late Syrian strongman’s long-serving envoy, was known for humiliating both allies and foes who dared defy Damascus’ directives. His tactics were often unsettling — deliberately designed to leave visitors unnerved and pliant by the time they reached Assad’s office.

In a conversation in Paris during his retirement, Khaddam defended his hardline methods, saying they were not meant to insult but to prevent potentially dangerous confrontations. “The aim was to avoid escalation that could lead to security agencies taking over, which might have resulted in worse outcomes,” he said.

In the same meeting, Khaddam accused former Lebanese President Amine Gemayel of obstructing a political solution in Lebanon, calling him “hesitant and suspicious.”

He also acknowledged Assad was caught off guard when the Tripartite Agreement collapsed. The Syrian leader, Khaddam said, had not believed anyone in Lebanon would openly defy Syria — or the other Lebanese factions who had signed the accord.

“President Assad had many cards to play. President Sarkis had none,” recalled former Lebanese Foreign Minister Fouad Boutros, reflecting on the stark imbalance between Syria and Lebanon during Elias Sarkis’s presidency.

Assad, he said, had the power to topple or paralyze the Lebanese government before Sarkis even returned to Beirut. “Sarkis had no leverage over Assad,” Boutros noted. “But while Sarkis often showed flexibility, he would stand firm when asked to compromise Lebanon’s core principles.”

Boutros, who played a key role in Lebanon’s diplomacy during the civil war, said he had to exercise utmost restraint to keep Khaddam — Syria’s often abrasive envoy — from derailing talks with personal attacks or inflammatory language.

The dynamic, he suggested, was not unique to Sarkis. It also echoed the later, uneasy relationship between Gemayel and Assad.

Gemayel recalled a cold and confrontational relationship with Khaddam, describing him as “the stick and the poison” used by Assad to pressure Beirut into submission.

“There was no warmth between us from the beginning,” Gemayel told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“Khaddam used underhanded tactics to undermine the presidency and sow division within my team. While President Assad treated me with respect and politeness, he needed someone to apply pressure — and that was Khaddam,” he added.

Gemayel said Khaddam was behind all the pressure campaigns Syria waged against him — all with Assad’s full knowledge. “Assad played the courteous statesman. Khaddam handled the dirty work. Syria wanted me to sign agreements harmful to Lebanon’s interests, and Khaddam was the one tasked with forcing my hand.”

Despite Khaddam’s harsh demeanor, Gemayel said he never allowed him to overstep.

“I kept him in check. He didn’t dare cross the line with me. We were once in a meeting with President Assad, and Khaddam had been spreading ridiculous rumors beforehand. When he spoke up, I turned to Assad and said: ‘Mr. President, we have a problem with Khaddam. Please ask him to stop acting like a spy when dealing with us.’”

Khaddam, Gemayel said, tried to intimidate many Lebanese politicians — but not him.

“He was rude, even insolent to the point of absurdity. But he knew that if he said anything out of line with me, I would respond immediately.”

Assad’s Subtle Control and the Language of Minorities

Assad understood early on the fragility of Lebanon’s sectarian makeup. To him, the country was a meeting place for minorities — one that always needed an external patron to manage its wars and truces. He allowed for limited victories, but never total defeat, ensuring that no side could do without Syria’s oversight.

Assad sought to rule Syria indefinitely, with Lebanon as a backyard extension of his regime. Yet unlike his brother Rifaat, he avoided openly sectarian rhetoric or calls for partition. Rifaat, according to Gemayel, once suggested dividing both Syria and Lebanon along sectarian lines during a conversation with Lebanese leaders Walid Jumblatt and Marwan Hamadeh.

When asked whether he ever felt his dialogue with Assad was, at its core, a conversation between an Alawite and a Maronite, Gemayel replied: “No — that was Rifaat’s language. He used to say minorities must come together and show solidarity. But that narrative was never pushed by President Assad or his inner circle. It was always tailored to serve their own agenda.”

Assad’s political strategy was built on gathering leverage — and minority groups were central to that plan. His ties with Lebanon’s Druze community, and his clash with Druze leader Kamal Jumblatt, fit squarely within this framework. Assad relied on Syria’s own Druze population, as well as the Christian minority, to tighten his grip on the country’s diverse communities and align them under the banner of his regime.

“Assad had a firm hold on the minorities,” Gemayel said, adding that “he brought them all together to make them part of the Syrian system.”

Tensions between Syria’s Alawite leadership and the country’s Sunni majority were well known, Gemayel added, particularly through the candid rhetoric of Assad’s brother, Rifaat.

“Rifaat was open about the hostility between Alawites and Sunnis,” Gemayel said. “In his conversations with us, it was clear. But with President Assad, there was no visible sign of that. What lay beneath the surface, only God knows — but in our dealings with him, we never felt it.”

Gemayel Dismisses Reports of a Syria-Lebanon Confederation Proposal

Asked about longstanding claims that former Lebanese President Camille Chamoun had once proposed a confederation between Lebanon and Syria to Hafez al-Assad, Gemayel was quick to reject the idea.

“That’s absolutely not true,” he said. “President Chamoun would never have made such a proposal. A lot of things were said at the time. There were even reports that US envoy Dean Brown had suggested relocating Lebanon’s Christians to California — all of it nonsense, poetic talk with no grounding in reality.”

Gemayel also addressed one of the most controversial moments in US diplomacy during Lebanon’s 1988 presidential crisis: the phrase reportedly used by US envoy Richard Murphy — “Mikhael Daher or chaos.”

Daher, a Christian MP close to Damascus, had been floated as the only candidate acceptable to both Syria and the United States.

But Washington later distanced itself from the deal. The episode, Gemayel said, underscored a period in which American pressure aligned more with Syrian — and by extension, Israeli — interests, leaving Lebanon’s sovereignty hanging in the balance.

Gemayel confirmed that US envoy Richard Murphy did indeed issue the stark ultimatum in 1988. The phrase, which became emblematic of foreign interference in Lebanon’s presidential crisis, reflected what Gemayel described as Washington’s unwillingness to confront Damascus — despite acknowledging its destabilizing role in Lebanon.

“Yes, Murphy said it,” Gemayel affirmed to Asharq Al-Awsat.

“The Americans had a problem — they wanted Syria, and they didn’t. They knew Syria was playing a destructive role in Lebanon, but they didn’t want to challenge it. They kept trying to find common ground with Syria, not with us.”

According to Gemayel, the US saw Daher — a respected Christian parliamentarian close to Damascus — as a palatable compromise. “They thought Daher was a respectable figure who might be acceptable to the Lebanese, so they went along with Syria’s choice,” he said.

Washington, he added, had consistently prioritized pragmatism over principle in Lebanon, often aligning with whichever side could deliver results — even if it came at Beirut’s expense.

“It was the same with the May 17 Agreement with Israel,” Gemayel said, referring to the short-lived 1983 accord.

“The US couldn't pressure Israel, so Lebanon had to pay. And they couldn’t pressure Syria either — Syria was stubborn, had resources, and they didn’t want a confrontation. So they kept trying to sell us solutions that weren’t in Lebanon’s interest.”

“The Americans were always looking for the quickest deal,” he added. “They wanted to please both Syria and Israel. With Syria, it was clear — they didn’t want to upset Assad, because they knew who held the real power in Lebanon.”

Gemayel said that while he personally held the reins in decision-making and negotiations with Syria during his time in office, several close advisers and intermediaries played essential roles in laying the groundwork for dialogue with Damascus.

“The relationship and final decisions were in my hands,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“I was the one doing the actual negotiating. But when it came to preparation, the late Jean Obeid played a very valuable role. He was intelligent, committed to Lebanon’s interests, and had close ties with the Syrians. He couldn’t get everything done, but he managed to ease certain issues,” said Gemayel.

Gemayel also credited Eli Salem, another aide, for navigating delicate talks with Syrian officials — particularly with Khaddam.

“Salem had a knack for getting through on specific points,” Gemayel said. “He had good chemistry with Khaddam, and that helped, especially since Khaddam and I didn’t get along.”

One figure who unexpectedly played a constructive role, according to Gemayel, was Brigadier General Jamil al-Sayyed, then an intelligence officer stationed in Lebanon’s eastern Bekaa Valley.

“You may be surprised,” he said, “but Jamil al-Sayyed was very helpful. Whenever I was heading to Damascus, I would stop in the Bekaa to meet him. He gave me very precise insights into what was happening at the Syrian presidential palace and the broader picture in Damascus. He was well-informed, sincere, and provided intelligence that wasn’t widely available — information that truly benefited Lebanon.”

Asked whether Syria was uneasy about the role of veteran journalist and diplomat Ghassan Tueni in his administration, Gemayel said the Syrians had little affection for him.

“There was never any warmth toward Ghassan,” he said. “He came with me to Syria just once, and it was clear there was tension. Whenever he was present, things got heated. Ghassan and Khaddam were like a ping-pong match — constantly hitting the ball back and forth.”

The friction, Gemayel explained, stemmed in large part from Tueni’s association with An-Nahar, the Beirut daily he helped lead, which often published sharp criticism of Syria.

“Syria never appreciated An-Nahar,” Gemayel said. “Even if Ghassan tried to distance himself from specific articles, the content was out there for everyone to see — and the Syrians didn’t forget it.”