New Year’s Day Quake in Japan Revives the Trauma of 2011 Triple Disasters 

A man cycles past a collapsed building in Wajima, Ishikawa Prefecture, Japan, 03 January 2024. (EPA)
A man cycles past a collapsed building in Wajima, Ishikawa Prefecture, Japan, 03 January 2024. (EPA)
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New Year’s Day Quake in Japan Revives the Trauma of 2011 Triple Disasters 

A man cycles past a collapsed building in Wajima, Ishikawa Prefecture, Japan, 03 January 2024. (EPA)
A man cycles past a collapsed building in Wajima, Ishikawa Prefecture, Japan, 03 January 2024. (EPA)

The powerful earthquake that shattered the peace of New Year’s Day in central Japan did not spur massive tsunamis like those that scoured the Pacific coast in 2011, killing nearly 20,000 people and forcing tens of thousands of people from their homes.

The tsunamis that did roll in along the Sea of Japan, on Japan's western coast, were mostly just a few feet high, rather than waves up to 5 meters (15 feet) tall predicted in alerts issued just after the magnitude 7.6 quake struck on Monday afternoon.

But the alarms and evacuation orders, and the dozens of strong quakes that came before and after the main quake on Monday, summoned memories of the triple disasters nearly 13 years ago. ,

As of Wednesday morning, local officials said 62 people were confirmed killed in the quake that struck on the coast of the remote Noto peninsula, 300 kilometers (about 185 miles) northwest of Tokyo.

Searchers were combing through rubble, a task lent urgency by forecasts for heavy rain that could trigger more landslides and collapses, racing against the clock to find survivors. Some were buried in landslides or trapped in houses whose roofs collapsed. Firefighters were using power saws to access people trapped in a small, 7-floor apartment building that fell sideways off its foundation.

“Hardly any homes are standing. They're either partially or totally destroyed,” said Masuhiro Izumiya, the mayor of Suzu city, which suffered heavy damage.

Two days after the quake, a man watched silently, wiping his eyes with a towel, as rescuers pulled his wife's body from beneath their collapsed home.

The quake struck on the one day of the year that nearly all Japanese take off: The New Year holiday is the country’s biggest festival, when families gather to sit in heated “kotatsu” tables, eat “osechi” delicacies and rice cakes, and just take it easy.

The calm was vanquished by TV announcers who urgently and repeatedly warned people in areas that might be flooded to seek higher ground, without delay.

Tens of thousands of people living in areas near where the quake struck sought shelter in government buildings and schools as authorities warned against returning to buildings possibly weakened by dozens of strong aftershocks.

Others lined up patiently to get drinking water from tanker trucks sent in to help tide residents over until broken pipes could be fixed.

“It’s flattened (my house) so we can't get inside. So I'm here with my wife sleeping together in a huddle while talking to others and encouraging each other. That’s the situation now.” said Yasuo Kobatake, who was visiting his hometown in Suzu when quake occurred.

Prime Minister Fumio Kishida and other officials sternly warned against posting misleading or “malicious” information online after some people posted videos of the gigantic 2011 tsunami as if it was from Monday’s quake.

The disaster was an inauspicious start for 2024. According to Asian astrology, it's a Dragon Year that usually would bring good luck and prosperity. So far, it's brought a quake on Monday and a fiery landing of a Japan Airlines plane in Tokyo on Tuesday after a Japan Airlines flight from the northern island of Hokkaido crashed into a smaller Japan Coast Guard aircraft on the runway. All 379 passengers and crew of the JAL plane escaped. Five people perished on the smaller plane, which had been preparing to deliver relief supplies for quake victims.

The holiday's celebrations turned somber: Kishida postponed plans for a ceremonial New Year visit to the Ise Shrine. Public visits to the Imperial Palace in Tokyo for New Year greetings by the Imperial family were canceled as Emperor Naruhito and Empress Masako conveyed their sympathies to victims of the disaster.

The damage is much smaller in scale than in 2011, but still catastrophic.

The Noto area is renowned for old, picturesque wooden-frame homes and shops, often with heavy tile roofs that experts say are most vulnerable to the kind of violent shaking seen in Monday's quake. Most, but not all, of Japan's modern buildings are built to stronger, quake-resistant specifications, usually using reinforced concrete that tends to hold up well.

Much of the damage from Monday's quake to more modern buildings appears to have resulted from landslides and subsidence, which severely damaged homes even 100 kilometers (60 miles) away in Kanazawa, the closest larger city.

Landslides and road collapses left some isolated communities cut off: Residents in Suzu used folding chairs, benches and other things to spell out SOS in a parking lot — much as some distressed quake and tsunami survivors did in 2011.

The 2011 triple disasters along Japan's northeastern coast began with a magnitude 9 earthquake offshore that was more than 125 times more powerful than this week's quake in terms of the total energy it released, according to an online calculating tool of the US Geological Survey. It unleashed tsunami with waves up to 40 meters (131 feet) high that pounded into the coast, across sea walls and up river valleys, wiping out entire communities in low-lying areas.

It also triggered meltdowns at the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant that led to massive evacuations along the coast due to worries over radiation escaping from the disabled plant that have kept thousands from moving back.

The operator of the nuclear power plant closest to the epicenter of Monday's quake, in Shika, said there were minor problems and damage, but nothing that would cause radiation leaks from the facility, where reactors were idled for safety checks.

Hokuriku Power apologized for quake-related power outages that affected 33,200 homes in the area — some of those who sought refuge said they were too cold without any heating due to the blackouts, with temperatures dipping near freezing overnight.

Further north, at the Kashiwazaki-Kariwa nuclear power plant in Niigata prefecture, the world's largest atomic power plant by power capacity, the quake caused water to spill from fuel pools of two reactors. Its operator Tokyo Electric Power, which also is responsible for the wrecked Fukushima plant, said there was no damage or leaks.

TEPCO recently gained permission to restart the Niigata facility, which had been partially shut down at the time of the 2011 quake and has been undergoing safety improvements since that disaster, which did not affect it.



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.”