Lebanon's Army Chief Joseph Aoun, a Man with a Tough Mission

Lebanon's Armed Forces Commander General Joseph Aoun attends a cabinet meeting in Beirut on November 27, 2024, to discuss the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah. - AFP
Lebanon's Armed Forces Commander General Joseph Aoun attends a cabinet meeting in Beirut on November 27, 2024, to discuss the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah. - AFP
TT

Lebanon's Army Chief Joseph Aoun, a Man with a Tough Mission

Lebanon's Armed Forces Commander General Joseph Aoun attends a cabinet meeting in Beirut on November 27, 2024, to discuss the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah. - AFP
Lebanon's Armed Forces Commander General Joseph Aoun attends a cabinet meeting in Beirut on November 27, 2024, to discuss the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah. - AFP

Lebanese army chief Joseph Aoun, who is being touted as a possible candidate for the presidency, is a man with a tough mission following an Israel-Hezbollah ceasefire that relies heavily on his troops deploying in the south.

Aoun, 60, was set to retire last January after heading the army since 2017, but has had his mandate extended twice -- the last time on Thursday.

The army, widely respected and a rare source of unity in a country riven by sectarian and political divides, has held together despite periodic social strife, the latest war and a crushing five-year economic crisis.
A fragile ceasefire took effect on Wednesday, ending more than a year of war between Israel and Hezbollah that has killed thousands in Lebanon and caused mass displacements on both sides of the border.
Under its terms, the Lebanese army and United Nations peacekeepers are to become the only armed presence in south Lebanon, where Hezbollah enjoys strong support and had been launching attacks on Israeli troops for months, and fighting them on the ground since late September.

The move averted a military power vacuum as the army, which boasts about 80,000 Lebanese servicemen, seeks to bolster its deployment in south Lebanon as part of the nascent truce.

But it will be a difficult task in an area long seen as Hezbollah territory, and risks upsetting the country's already delicate social balance as tensions run high over the war's course and devastation.

- 'Integrity' -

Aoun "has a reputation of personal integrity", said Karim Bitar, an international relations expert at Beirut's Saint-Joseph University.

The army chief came into prominence after leading the army in a battle to drive out the ISIS group from a mountanous area along the Syrian border.

"Within the Lebanese army, he is perceived as someone who is dedicated... who has the national interest at heart, and who has been trying to consolidate this institution, which is the last non-sectarian institution still on its feet in the country," he told AFP.

Aoun has good relations with groups across the political spectrum, including with Hezbollah, as well as with various foreign countries.

Mohanad Hage Ali from the Carnegie Middle East Center noted that "being the head of US-backed Lebanese Armed Forces, Joseph Aoun has ties to the United States".

"While he maintained relations with everyone, Hezbollah-affiliated media often criticized him" for his US ties, he told AFP.

An international conference in Paris last month raised $200 million to support the armed forces.

The military has been hit hard by Lebanon's economic crisis, and at one point in 2020 said it had scrapped meat from the meals offered to on-duty soldiers due to rising food prices.

Aoun has also been floated by several politicians, parties and local media as a potential candidate for Lebanon's presidency, vacant for more than two years amid deadlock between allies of Hezbollah and its opponents, who accuse the group of seeking to impose its preferred candidate.

Aoun has not commented on the reports and largely refrains from making media statements.

- President? -

A Western diplomat told AFP that "everyone has recognized Aoun's track record at the head of the army".

"But the question is, can he transform himself into a politician?" said the diplomat, requesting anonymity to discuss politically sensitive matters.

Bitar said that "many, even those who respect him are opposed to his election as president, because he comes from the army mostly", noting a number of Lebanon's heads of state, including recently, were former army chiefs.

Most "left a bittersweet taste", Bitar said, noting any election of Aoun could also perpetuate the idea that the army chief "systematically becomes president".

This could end up weakening the military as it creates "an unhealthy relationship between political power and the army, which is supposed to remain neutral", he added.

Hage Ali said that the idea of Aoun's "candidacy for the presidency did not receive much enthusiasm from the major figures in the political class, even those who are opposed to Hezbollah".

Aoun, who speaks Arabic, French and English, hails from Lebanon's Christian community and has two children.

By convention, the presidency goes to a Maronite Christian, the premiership is reserved for a Sunni Muslim and the post of parliament speaker goes to a Shiite Muslim.

He is not related to the previous Lebanese president Michel Aoun -- also a former army chief -- although the two served together in the military.



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)
TT

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.”