Who Is Joseph Aoun, a Low-Profile Army Chief Who Is Now Lebanon’s President?

 Newly-elected Lebanese President Joseph Aoun reviews the honor guard upon his arrival at the Lebanese Parliament to be sworn in as a new president, in Beirut, Lebanon, Thursday, Jan. 9, 2025. (AP)
Newly-elected Lebanese President Joseph Aoun reviews the honor guard upon his arrival at the Lebanese Parliament to be sworn in as a new president, in Beirut, Lebanon, Thursday, Jan. 9, 2025. (AP)
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Who Is Joseph Aoun, a Low-Profile Army Chief Who Is Now Lebanon’s President?

 Newly-elected Lebanese President Joseph Aoun reviews the honor guard upon his arrival at the Lebanese Parliament to be sworn in as a new president, in Beirut, Lebanon, Thursday, Jan. 9, 2025. (AP)
Newly-elected Lebanese President Joseph Aoun reviews the honor guard upon his arrival at the Lebanese Parliament to be sworn in as a new president, in Beirut, Lebanon, Thursday, Jan. 9, 2025. (AP)

Lebanon’s new president and former army commander Joseph Aoun has maintained a low profile. Those who know him say he is no-nonsense, kind and averse to affiliating himself with any party or even expressing a political opinion — a rarity for someone in Lebanon’s fractured, transactional political system.

Bilal Saab, a former Pentagon official who is now senior managing director of the TRENDS US consulting firm, often met Aoun while overseeing Washington's security cooperation in the Middle East. He called Aoun a "very sweet man, very compassionate, very warm" who avoided political discussions "like the plague."

"He really was viciously nonpartisan, did not have any interest in even delivering speeches or doing media," Saab said. "He wanted to take care of business, and his only order of business was commanding the Lebanese army."

That might make Aoun an odd fit as Lebanon’s president after being elected Thursday — ending a more than two-year vacuum in the post — but Saab said it could be a boon for the country where incoming leaders typically demand that certain plum positions go to supporters.

"He’s not going to ask for equities in politics that typically any other president would do," Saab said.

Aoun, 61, is from Aichiye, a Christian village in Jezzine province, southern Lebanon. He joined the army as a cadet in 1983, during Lebanon's 15-year civil war.

George Nader, a retired brigadier general who served alongside Aoun, recalled him as keeping cool under fire.

They fought together in the battle of Adma in 1990, a fierce confrontation between the Lebanese army and the Lebanese Forces militia during the war's final stages. Nader described it as one of the toughest battles of his career.

"The level of bloodshed was significant and I remember Joseph was steady and focused," he said.

Aoun commanded the Lebanese army's 9th infantry brigade before being appointed army chief in March 2017.

During his tenure as commander, he oversaw the army’s response to a series of crises, beginning with a battle to push out militants from the ISIS group and Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, or HTS, who were then operating in eastern Lebanon near the Syrian border. The army fought in coordination with the Hezbollah group.

HTS in its current iteration led a lightning offensive that toppled Syrian president Bashar al-Assad last month and has become the de facto ruling party in Syria.

The Lebanese army navigated other challenges, including responding to mass anti-government protests in 2019, the 2020 Beirut port explosion and the 14-month conflict between Israel and Hezbollah that came to a halt with a ceasefire agreement in November.

The Lebanese military largely stayed on the sidelines in the Israel-Hezbollah war, only returning fire a handful of times when Israeli strikes hit its positions. Dozens of soldiers were killed in airstrikes and shelling

The military also took a major hit when Lebanon's currency collapsed beginning in 2019, reducing the monthly salary of a soldier to the equivalent of less than $100.

In a rare political statement, Aoun openly criticized the country's leadership for its lack of action on the issue in a speech in June 2021.

"What are you waiting for? What do you plan to do? We have warned more than once of the dangers of the situation," he said. The United States and Qatar both at one point subsidized soldiers' salaries.

Ed Gabriel, president of the American Task Force on Lebanon, a nonprofit that aims to build stronger US-Lebanon ties, said he met Aoun about seven years ago when he was taking over command of the armed forces and "immediately found him to be the best of those that we had worked with."

He described Aoun as a "very direct guy, very honest" and a leader "who inspires loyalty by his hard work." Those attributes helped Aoun to prevent a flood of defections during the economic crisis, when many soldiers had to resort to working second jobs, Gabriel said.

On a personal level, Gabriel described Aoun as a humble and deeply religious man. Like all Lebanese presidents and army commanders under Lebanon’s sectarian power-sharing system, Aoun is a Maronite Christian.

"His religion really sets the groundwork for ... his value system and his morals," Gabriel said.

In Aoun's hometown, residents burst into celebrations after his election, setting off fireworks, dancing in the streets and handing out sweets.

"We are currently living in very difficult times, and he is the right person for this challenging period," said Claire Aoun, among those celebrating. "May God guide and support him, and may he rebuild this entire nation for us."

But Aoun's election was not without controversy or universally supported, even among fellow Christians.

One of the most influential Christian parties in the country, the Free Patriotic Movement of former President Michel Aoun — no relation to the current president — opposed his candidacy. And the Lebanese Forces party gave him their endorsement only the night before the election.

Some have argued that Joseph Aoun’s election violated the law. The Lebanese constitution bars a sitting army commander from being elected president, though the ban has been waived multiple times. Some legislators were not happy doing it again.

Some in Lebanon also perceived Aoun's election as the result of outside pressure — notably from the United States — and less the result of internal consensus. Hezbollah's war with Israel weakened the group, politically and militarily, and left Lebanon in need of international assistance for reconstruction, which analysts said paved the way for Aoun's election.

Saab, the analyst, said painting Aoun as a puppet of Washington is unfair, although he acknowledged there’s no such thing as a Lebanese president or prime minister completely independent of foreign influence.

"The entire country is heavily penetrated and vulnerable and at the mercy of international powers," Saab said. "But ... if you were going to compare him to the leadership of Hezbollah being fully subservient to Iranian interests, then no, he’s not that guy when it comes to the Americans."



Syrians Integrated in Germany Face Uncertainty Over Return

Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)
Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)
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Syrians Integrated in Germany Face Uncertainty Over Return

Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)
Former German Chancellor Angela Merkel and Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees (Getty Images)

Twelve years after his famous selfie with then-German Chancellor Angela Merkel, Anas Modamani, one of Germany’s most well-known Syrian refugees, appears at ease in his adopted homeland.

At the time, Modamani had no idea who Merkel was when he snapped the photo during her visit to the asylum center where he was staying. Today, however, he feels as deeply connected to Germany as he does to his homeland, Syria.

Modamani, like many Syrians who fled to Germany after the 2011 uprising, faces a tough decision: stay in Germany or return to Syria.

With hopes of a post-Assad era, Modamani, originally from Daraya near Damascus, plans to visit his family in Syria and help rebuild their home.

“I want to split my time between Germany and Syria and start projects in both countries,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“Damascus is the most beautiful city on earth, but I love Germany, and Berlin is my second home.”

Modamani has fully embraced life in Germany, learning the language, gaining citizenship, joining the workforce, and building a relationship with Anna, a Ukrainian woman.

His German passport makes it easier to plan trips back to Syria without worrying about losing his residency or legal status in Germany.

Modamani is among nearly 260,000 Syrian refugees who have obtained German citizenship. However, more than 700,000 Syrians in Germany remain on asylum or temporary protection permits—status that could be revoked if conditions in Syria improve.

The shifting situation in Damascus has left Syrian refugees and German authorities in limbo. Decisions on 47,000 migration applications from Syrians have been paused as officials wait for more clarity.

Germany’s asylum policies were based on fears of war and persecution. With those fears easing after the fall of Assad, the legal basis for granting protection may no longer exist.

The uncertainty has sparked political debate. Some politicians, including Social Democrats in the ruling government, have called for changes to asylum rules.

Interior Minister Nancy Faeser suggested keeping refugees who are integrated or employed while deporting others.

Talk of deporting Syrian refugees in Germany seems tied to the upcoming February 23 elections.

While temporary residency permits can be revoked, Syria must first be declared “safe and stable” by the Foreign Ministry—a process that could take years.

Even with delays in Germany labeling Syria “safe,” most Syrian refugees show little interest in returning. Before Assad’s fall, 94% said they wanted to stay, according to the Federal Office for Migration and Refugees.

The longer refugees live in Germany, the stronger their ties become. Many arrived over five years ago, with some having spent a decade in the country.

Siamand Osman, a Syrian Kurdish refugee from Qamishli, has been in Germany for 11 years. He learned the language, gained citizenship, and built a life, even though most of his family remains in Syria. For now, he has no plans to go back.

Osman told Asharq Al-Awsat that the situation in Kurdish areas of Syria is still unstable.

“I want to return—my family is there—but I hope all sides in Syria can agree and bring peace to our region,” he said.

Osman’s biggest fear is the return of war.

“Imagine leaving everything behind, selling my belongings, and going back to Syria, only to have the war start again and force me to flee once more,” he says. Despite this, he is determined to return when the situation improves.

Economic instability is another key factor contributing to Syrians’ reluctance to return home. Alaa Muhrez, who arrived in Germany in 2015, explained that the economic situation in Syria plays a significant role in her decision.

She told Asharq Al-Awsat that she “rebuilt her life from scratch.”

After learning the language and training in her profession as an accountant, Muhrez is now working in her field and has gained German citizenship.

Despite her strong optimism for Syria’s future, Muhrez, originally from Homs, remains cautious about the situation there and the country’s potential trajectory in the coming years.

She fears leaving her job and home in Berlin, only to return to Syria and struggle to find suitable employment.

For Syrian families, the decision to stay or return is even more difficult. Many arrived with children who have forgotten Arabic and spent years learning German.

Anas Fahd, from Sweida, came to Germany almost three years ago with his family and teenage son. He still holds a temporary protection permit and works as an electrical engineer.

“It’s too early to decide about returning,” Fahd told Asharq Al-Awsat. His son has been learning German for a year and is doing well in school in Berlin. “It would be hard to send him back to Syria, where he’d have to waste another year relearning Arabic.”

Even newcomers like Basel Hussein, who arrived in Berlin on the day Assad fell, have no plans to go back. Hussein, who paid over 13,000 euros to be smuggled into Germany, says he won’t return now.

“The situation is still unclear with new decisions every day,” Hussein said. “I’d rather start fresh in Germany than return to an uncertain future in Syria.”

It’s not only Syrians who are hesitant to return—many Germans worry about losing a key part of the workforce, especially those filling important roles.

Over 5,000 Syrian doctors work in German hospitals, making them the largest group of foreign doctors. Many others work in sectors with labor shortages, like nursing, construction, and hospitality.

It takes an average of seven years for Syrians to enter the labor market as they learn the language and validate their qualifications. Syrians are filling vital roles, but unemployment remains high, particularly for women.

Unions representing doctors and workers have warned against calls for quick deportations, fearing it could harm the labor market.

Manfred Lucha, health minister in Baden-Württemberg, where many Syrian doctors work, warned that if they leave, it would create a huge gap in the healthcare sector. The state’s hospital association also said losing Syrian healthcare workers would be a significant blow.