Amine Gemayel to Asharq Al-Awsat: Assad Viewed Lebanon the Same Way Saddam Viewed Kuwait

Hafez al-Assad and Amine Gemayel during a Non-Aligned Movement summit in India. (Getty Images)
Hafez al-Assad and Amine Gemayel during a Non-Aligned Movement summit in India. (Getty Images)
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Amine Gemayel to Asharq Al-Awsat: Assad Viewed Lebanon the Same Way Saddam Viewed Kuwait

Hafez al-Assad and Amine Gemayel during a Non-Aligned Movement summit in India. (Getty Images)
Hafez al-Assad and Amine Gemayel during a Non-Aligned Movement summit in India. (Getty Images)

Former Lebanese President Amine Gemayel said that the late Syrian President Hafez al-Assad viewed Lebanon the same way the late Iraqi President Saddam Hussein viewed Kuwait. He added that Assad “considered Lebanon a historic mistake that could be corrected by bringing it back into the Syrian fold.” He emphasized that Assad wanted “nothing more, nothing less than to annex Lebanon,” noting that he upheld his constitutional oath during 14 summit meetings with the Syrian president.

Gemayel made these comments in an interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, where he discussed Lebanon’s experience during the long “Assad era” and other key moments.

In the 1970s, Pierre Gemayel, leader of the Kataeb Party, received an invitation from Assad to visit Damascus. He brought along his sons Amine and Bashir. The Syrian president warmly welcomed them into his home, but the honeymoon did not last long.

Reminiscing stirred up painful memories for Gemayel, who carries two deep wounds: the assassination of his son, MP and Minister Pierre Gemayel, in 2006 amid a wave of killings that followed the assassination of former Prime Minister Rafik al-Hariri, and the assassination of his brother, President-elect Bashir Gemayel, in 1982. Amine Gemayel assumed the presidency that same year, following two political earthquakes: the Israeli invasion of Lebanon and his brother’s assassination.

Hafez al-Assad welcomes Amine Gemayel in Damascus. (Photo courtesy of Amine Gemayel)

Hafez al-Assad and the ‘Lebanese mistake’

Asked what Hafez al-Assad wanted from Lebanon, Gemayel said: “You’re asking a foregone question, as the French saying goes. He wanted to annex Lebanon—nothing more, nothing less. Syrian politicians, even before Assad, couldn’t accept Lebanon’s existence. They saw it as an artificial country that should be part of Syria. They believed Lebanon was wrongly separated due to the Sykes-Picot Agreement. Beirut’s port is closer to Damascus than Tartus, so they believed Lebanon was an inseparable part of Syria.”

“Assad also held this view. He couldn’t digest the idea of Lebanon as a stable, independent country. His ultimate goal was annexation. Every agreement or relationship Syria pursued was aimed at eventually achieving this annexation,” he revealed.

“Assad told me plainly, in a one-on-one meeting: ‘Don’t forget that Lebanon is part of Syria. We’re one country. Colonial powers divided us, and it’s in your interest as Lebanese to return to the Syrian fold. No matter how circumstances change, Lebanon must return to Syria.’”

“He was that blunt. He even tried to soften it by comparing it to European unity. ‘Europe united, why can’t we do the same?’ He argued that the countries had shared interests: political, security, economic. So why not unite?”

Asked whether Saddam’s invasion of Kuwait reminded him of Assad’s attempt to annex Lebanon, Gemayel said: “Yes. To Saddam, Kuwait was what Lebanon was to Hafez al-Assad.” He noted that Iraqi leaders claimed colonial powers had stolen Kuwait from Iraq—just as Syrian leaders believed colonialism had stolen Lebanon from Syria.

Still, Gemayel clarified: “Despite all this, I maintained a normal relationship with Assad. Even affection, you could say. We respected each other. He understood my position and would say, privately, that if he were in my place, he’d do the same. And I understood his views, though our ideologies were completely opposed.”

Amine Gemayel and Asharq Al-Awsat's Editor-in-Chief Ghassan Charbel during the interview. (Asharq Al-Awsat)

“Assad would get infuriated by my rejections at times. He thought Lebanon was ripe for the picking—and there I was, blocking him. But he respected me for it. He knew that, in my place, he might have acted the same way. Still, he believed it was in Syria’s interest to ‘unite’ with Lebanon.”

“The Syrian army was already in Lebanon and had co-opted many Lebanese leaders who were ‘pilgrimaging’ to Syria. Assad thought the moment was right. He also mobilized pro-Syrian Palestinian factions,” recalled Gemayel.

“I stood in the way of this dream, which led to fierce political clashes between us—an intellectual struggle, if you will, between his push for unity and my defense of Lebanese independence. We had mutual respect. I met Assad 14 times during my presidency.”

Telling Assad ‘no’ required extraordinary courage’

“I debated, resisted, and stood firm. Facing Assad—his weight, his stature in Syria and the Arab world was no easy task. I had no army, no stable institutions, and Lebanese political leaders were scattered. The situation in Lebanon was dire,” Gemayel told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“Eventually, even my own allies turned on me. Assad had even co-opted a faction of the Lebanese Forces. He thought I’d cave and sign the papers. But I didn’t. That moment was one of the hardest. Saying ‘no’ to Assad under those conditions required extraordinary courage.”

Asked whether the May 17 Lebanese-Israeli Agreement was the most difficult point in his relationship with Assad, Gemayel said: “No. The hardest point was the Tripartite Agreement between Amal, the Progressive Socialist Party, and the Lebanese Forces. With that agreement, Assad fully controlled the Lebanese scene—especially after winning over leaders like Elie Hobeika and Samir Geagea.”

“Assad believed Lebanon was in his grasp. Only I stood in the way. He didn’t care much about my position but needed my signature. As president, I had taken an oath to preserve the constitution and sovereignty.”

“Despite enormous internal and external pressure—even from within the Christian camp—I stood alone. But I was committed to the Lebanese cause. Ultimately, we won. The public, especially the Christian community, rallied around me. The other leaders who had sold out were exposed. That moment saved Lebanon’s sovereignty and its democratic system.”

Asked by Asharq Al-Awsat, if Assad resented him for sabotaging the Tripartite Agreement, Gemayel replied: “Assad thought he had Lebanon in the bag and was just waiting for congratulations. The day of the signing, King Hussein of Jordan was set to visit Syria. They delayed his visit to finalize the agreement. That’s how important it was to them.”

Pierre Gemayel and Hafez al-Assad. (AFP)

“Assad was frustrated, maybe even bitter. He couldn’t believe that I—stripped of power—dared to say no. But he respected me for it,” added Gemayel.

“After the deal collapsed, I was in Morocco. Syria’s ambassador, a close Alawite to Assad, visited me and conveyed Assad’s respect. It was a message to reopen communication. Assad may have been furious, but he still respected how I stood firm as a young leader facing such odds.”

The bomb on the presidential plane

Asked whether he feared assassination like Kamal Jumblatt, Gemayel replied: “All kinds of pressure were used to make me sign. One story Assad told me—casually—was about how Sadat informed him he was going to Jerusalem. Assad opposed it strongly. After Sadat left the room, Assad’s people asked if they should stop him, maybe even blow up his plane.”

“Assad said he thought about it, but his conscience stopped him. The way he told me the story, it felt like a warning. Like he wouldn’t make the same ‘mistake’ again,” said Gemayel.

“There were several attempts to assassinate me. The most serious one was when I was flying to Yemen. My plane had been rigged with a bomb. The pilot, a meticulous man named Makawiy, noticed a minor issue with the radio and refused to fly. They discovered a wire under the cockpit leading to a bomb.”

“Syrian intelligence was at the airport and immediately seized the bomb and equipment to block any investigation. Who else could rig a presidential plane under heavy guard? Clearly, only they had that kind of access.”

Amine Gemayel and his father Pierre during Bashir Gemayel’s funeral. (Getty Images)

Syrian intelligence behind Bashir’s assassination

Asked whether he believed Syrian intelligence was behind his brother Bashir’s assassination, Gemayel said: “That’s a fact. The killer was from the Syrian Social Nationalist Party, which was under direct Syrian intelligence control under Assad Hardan. The bomb was planted in Bashir’s office by Habib Chartouni, who had access to the building.”

“After the Syrian army ousted Michel Aoun from the presidential palace under President Elias Hrawi, they sent one unit to the palace and another to Roumieh Prison to free Chartouni. He walked free and gave a speech thanking Syria. That says everything.”

“Chartouni was initially too afraid to detonate the bomb, but party leaders pressured him. The operation was directly linked to Syrian intelligence,” added Gemayel.

Final meeting with Assad

Gemayel recounted his last meeting with Assad, two days before the end of his term: “We were trying to reach a deal: electing Michel al-Daher as president in exchange for certain guarantees. While I was with Assad explaining the plan, he received a note about a meeting in Lebanon between Geagea and Army Commander Michel Aoun.”

“He saw it as a coup attempt and ended the meeting abruptly. I returned to Beirut, but we couldn’t resolve the situation. Despite this, Assad—though ill—insisted on accompanying me to the airport, saying: ‘We are brothers no matter what.’”



Sweida’s Druze, Bedouin Tribes Locked in Historic Grievances

Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)
Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)
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Sweida’s Druze, Bedouin Tribes Locked in Historic Grievances

Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)
Druze woman from Israeli-Occupied Golan gazes toward Syria (Reuters)

Sweida, a province in southern Syria, is teetering on the brink after days of deadly violence and clashes between local communities and government security forces, an unrest that signals deeper turmoil across the war-battered country.

The latest flare-up has laid bare tensions that go beyond the provincial borders, raising concerns about the future of coexistence and civil peace in a region long known for its rich tapestry of religious, social, and cultural diversity.

While the Syrian government in Damascus seeks to reassert control over all of its territory, local groups are renewing calls for greater recognition of their rights and “distinct identity.” The result is a fragile and combustible equation in a strategically vital region.

Sweida has long been a flashpoint, shaped by decades of uneasy relations between Druze communities and neighboring Bedouin tribes. That legacy of mistrust now intersects with a crumbling economy, a lack of essential services, the rise of armed factions, and a newly entrenched central authority in Damascus, factors that together threaten to turn the province into a flashpoint for wider instability.

Competing narratives have further muddied the waters, with each side offering starkly different versions of recent events, accounts that are often shaped not just by what happened in the past few days, but by long-standing grievances and buried animosities. The deepening rift and absence of trust among local communities highlight just how far Syria remains from reconciliation.

As pressure builds, observers warn that without a sustainable political solution that acknowledges local demands while maintaining national cohesion, Sweida may be a harbinger of further unrest in Syria’s uncertain future.

Power Struggles and Fractured Alliances

In Syria’s Sweida, power is fragmented among a complex web of religious authorities, influential families, and rival armed factions, a fractured landscape that reflects the broader divisions tearing at the country.

Local leadership is split between traditional Druze clerical authorities and prominent families, each with their own loyalties and varying degrees of influence on the ground. Political rivalries run deep, and military factions are equally divided, some aligning with the government in Damascus, while others openly challenge it.

Among the most prominent pro-government groups is the “Madafat al-Karama” faction led by Laith al-Balous, son of the late Druze leader Sheikh Wahid al-Balous. He is seen as a key ally of Damascus, alongside Suleiman Abdel-Baqi, commander of the “Ahrar Jabal al-Arab” group.

On the opposing side are factions such as the “Military Council in Sweida” and “Liwa al-Jabal” (Mountain Brigade), which collectively field around 3,000 fighters. These groups are seen as aligned with the views of influential Druze spiritual leader Sheikh Hikmat al-Hijri, who has been increasingly critical of the central government.

A newer alliance has also emerged under the banner of “Counter-Terrorism Forces” or the “Syrian Brigade Party,” bringing together factions such as “Dir’ al-Tawhid,” “Forces of Al-Ulya,” “Sheikh al-Karama,” “Saraya al-Jabal,” and “Jaysh al-Muwahideen.” This coalition formally severed ties with Damascus following Sheikh Hijri’s speech on July 15, in which he rejected the government’s announcement of a ceasefire agreement with local notables.

Also active in the province is the “Men of Dignity Movement,” a relatively large faction led by Abu Hassan Yehya al-Hajjar. Though not officially aligned with the new coalition, the group is also staunchly opposed to the Syrian government.

The growing number of factions and rival power centers has deepened instability in Sweida.

Bedouin Tribes in Sweida Say They Are Marginalized, Blamed and Forgotten

Even after government forces withdrew and a fragile ceasefire took hold in Sweida, clashes reignited, this time between Druze residents and Bedouin tribes, underscoring the deep and historical grievances simmering beneath the surface of the country’s sectarian fault lines.

The Bedouin, who see themselves as long-marginalized stakeholders in the region, say they have been caught in the crossfire - blamed for violence they did not initiate and excluded from political life and public services.

“We are the perpetual scapegoats,” said Mohammad Abu Thulaith, a lawyer and member of the Sweida Tribal Council. A descendant of one of the Bedouin tribes long at odds with the Druze population, he told Asharq Al-Awsat that “Bedouins are the weakest link in the local power struggle.”

The sense of injustice voiced by Abu Thulaith runs deep and is rooted in historical narratives. According to his account, the Druze - who migrated to the Jabal al-Arab area around two centuries ago - gradually expanded their influence, curbing the pastoral livelihoods of the Bedouin, particularly livestock herding. This, he said, led to the forced migration of nearly half of the Bedouin tribes from the mountain region toward Jordan, rural Damascus, and Daraa.

He cited the example of Saad Hayel al-Surour, a former speaker of the Jordanian parliament, who remains a Syrian citizen to this day. His father, Hayel al-Surour, once headed the Syrian parliament before the 1958 union between Syria and Egypt.

Many in the Bedouin community consider themselves the original inhabitants of the land, victims of what they describe as “a prolonged injustice” that denied them citizenship rights, political representation, and even basic services.

Abu Thulaith argues that the source of current tensions must be addressed at its roots. “We are blamed because the other side does not dare confront the real actors behind the violence,” he said, referring to armed groups operating in the area.

He called on the Druze tribal leadership - often referred to as “the people of the mountain” - to assume responsibility for protecting the Bedouin community and ending decades of exclusion. “We’ve suffered from a double injustice,” he said. “One at the hands of the Assad regime and Baathist rule, and the other from our neighbors. We have no access to employment, no political representation, and we’re deprived of the most basic public services.”

Despite the mounting frustration, Abu Thulaith insists that the Bedouin do not seek confrontation. “We don’t have the means to fight,” he said. “All we want is to live in peace with our neighbors. No one can erase the other. Since the fall of the former regime, tribal communities have hoped the state would step in to offer protection and ensure the most basic rights.”

As tensions in Sweida continue to spiral, voices like Abu Thulaith’s are demanding a deeper national conversation about identity, land, and the future of Jabal al-Arab - one that addresses long-neglected wounds before they erupt into further conflict.

Druze Grapple with a Perpetual Identity Crisis

For Syria’s Druze minority, identity is not just a question of culture or belief, it is a matter of survival. That fear of erasure has long shaped their political instincts, social structures, and geographic presence in the country.

“The Druze, like many minorities, live with a constant sense of threat,” said Khaldoun Al-Nabbouani, a professor of political philosophy at the University of Paris and a native of Sweida. “This persistent anxiety drives them to close ranks around their identity in a collective effort of self-preservation.”

Speaking to Asharq Al-Awsat, Al-Nabbouani explained that the community’s inward turn is not only symbolic or cultural - it also manifests demographically. “Just as the Alawites are concentrated in the coastal mountains, the Druze have built their stronghold in Jabal al-Arab. It reflects a broader pattern among minorities to cluster in specific regions where they can reinforce their social cohesion and safeguard a perpetually anxious identity.”

That reflex dates back centuries. The very formation of the Druze sect, he said, was a political and cultural rebellion against traditional Islam. “Since its inception, the community has developed a deep need for internal solidarity and social insulation,” he said. “Even today, that’s visible in things like marriage practices - interfaith unions remain extremely rare.”

This insularity, he noted, extends to the political realm. The community has historically resisted the appointment of governors or officials from outside the Druze fold, a trend dating back to the 1930s and continuing into recent decades. One of the more controversial examples was the appointment of a non-Druze governor under the government of Ahmad Al-Sharaa, which sparked uproar, resignation, and a political standoff before the governor ultimately returned.

Tensions between the Druze and the central government are nothing new. Under President Adib Shishakli in the early 1950s, relations with Damascus deteriorated sharply. Shishakli accused the Druze of plotting against the state and in 1954 ordered artillery strikes on Jabal al-Arab, an assault that killed civilians, displaced families, and left deep scars that still echo in local memory.

When the Baath Party seized power in 1963, Damascus shifted tactics, pursuing what Al-Nabbouani described as a policy of “soft containment.” Symbolic appointments of Druze figures to government positions were coupled with tight security oversight in Sweida, a strategy aimed at managing rather than integrating the province.

As new waves of unrest ripple through southern Syria, the Druze community once again finds itself wrestling with existential questions caught between historical trauma, present instability, and an uncertain future.