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.”



From Wells to Budget: Where Does Libya’s Oil Money Go?

Tugboat Al-Hani begins operations at Zueitina port (National Oil Corporation)
Tugboat Al-Hani begins operations at Zueitina port (National Oil Corporation)
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From Wells to Budget: Where Does Libya’s Oil Money Go?

Tugboat Al-Hani begins operations at Zueitina port (National Oil Corporation)
Tugboat Al-Hani begins operations at Zueitina port (National Oil Corporation)

Libya depends on oil for nearly 98% of its income. Yet a central question persists: How are those revenues collected and spent in a country divided between rival governments? And why do Libyans complain of poverty when their country holds Africa’s largest oil reserves and produces and exports about 1.4 million barrels a day?

The process starts with the National Oil Corporation, which collects proceeds from crude oil and gas sales in US dollars and deposits them in accounts at the Libyan Foreign Bank. The money is then transferred to the Central Bank of Libya's accounts in Tripoli, recorded as state budget sovereign revenue, and converted into Libyan dinars.

The dollar trades at 6.36 dinars at the official rate, compared with 9.12 on the parallel market.

The Finance Ministry in Tripoli then issues spending authorizations under approved financial arrangements, after which the central bank releases funds to ministries and other state bodies through the main budget chapters.

Libya’s oil export revenues have swung sharply in recent years, ranging between $18 billion and $22 billion. They rose to about $18 billion in the first half of this year, nearly double the level in the same period last year, according to the Economy Ministry in the interim Government of National Unity.

Libyan oil expert Mohamed al-Shahati attributed the increase during that period to the war involving Iran.

Where is the breakdown?

Economists say Libya’s dependence on oil as its near-exclusive source of income lies at the heart of the crisis.

Ayoub al-Farsi, an economics professor at the University of Benghazi, said Libya showed how excessive reliance on natural resources could turn into a complex financial crisis when combined with political fragmentation and a lack of economic diversification.

“The Libyan economy is a clear example of how excessive dependence on natural resources can become a complex financial crisis,” he said, adding that political fragmentation and the absence of diversification had created conditions that directly affected people’s lives.

Al-Farsi, a member of the Central Bank of Libya’s Monetary Policy Committee, said the economy was built around a rentier-state model that depended almost entirely on oil exports to fund the treasury and provide foreign currency.

That dependence, he told Asharq Al-Awsat, had created deep structural distortions.

Agriculture and industry had been marginalized, the state bureaucracy had expanded to absorb workers into unproductive public-sector jobs, and the country had grown heavily dependent on imports for most consumer goods, he said.

Industrial activity remains limited, largely confined to the private sector and small-scale production. Critics also point to a market dominated by a small number of traders and importers, helping imported goods crowd out local production.

At protests across Libyan cities, the question is often the same: Where is the oil money going? Why are people struggling in an energy-producing country?

Al-Shahati said part of the answer lies in the difference between the value of the oil Libya produces and the amount that actually reaches the state treasury.

“Not every barrel produced in Libya is converted directly into a dollar entering the public treasury, because foreign partners have a share,” he told Asharq Al-Awsat.

Foreign companies have become production partners under various contractual arrangements, he said.

He also pointed to a stark contradiction: Libya produces oil, yet depends heavily on imports of gasoline, diesel, and other petroleum products to meet domestic demand.

That means a growing share of the country’s resources is converted into foreign currency to pay for fuel imports.

Al-Shahati said another problem was the lack of a regularly published, unified, and easy-to-read account that answers basic questions, such as: What was the total value of the oil produced? How much went to foreign partners? How much was exported for the state? How much went to the domestic market? And how much net revenue was actually available for public spending?

“The figures in circulation provide parts of the picture,” he said, “but they do not always show the full flow of revenues from the wellhead to the state’s public accounts.”

Libya’s oil fields are concentrated mainly in the eastern Sirte Basin, which holds about 82% of its oil reserves, as well as in the Murzuq Basin in the southwest and offshore areas along the coast.

Fuel and power crises

Those weaknesses in the oil revenue chain are unfolding as Libya grapples with a severe electricity crisis.

The country has suffered several “blackouts” in recent days, with some areas going without electricity for more than 17 hours a day.

Researcher Ezzedine Mokhtar sees the power cuts as one part of a wider pattern of recurring financial failures, including fuel shortages.

He blamed the hardship facing many Libyans on “corruption” and “unlimited spending” by two rival governments competing for power in the country’s east and west.

He also cited “oil smuggling through Arkenu, whose revenues go to specific individuals rather than the state treasury.”

Mokhtar said Libya’s subsidy system was another core problem, with more than 60% of the country’s budget going to fuel subsidies.

He called on the Tripoli government to phase out those subsidies gradually and to draw up a national plan to develop the workforce.

“We have no industrial skills in anything,” he said. “We import everything — yogurt, dairy products, fruit, vegetables, frozen fish, and even underwear. Everything comes from abroad.”

Libya ranks 10th globally in proven oil reserves, with about 48.3 billion barrels, according to Worldometer.

The UN Panel of Experts said in its latest report on Libya, covering October 2024 to February 2026, that Arkenu had moved at least $3 billion in oil revenues to bank accounts outside Libya between January 2024 and November 2025.

According to the report, Arkenu was established in 2023 as a private company and is indirectly controlled by Saddam Haftar, deputy commander-in-chief of the Libyan National Army. It faces accusations of “oil smuggling.”

Reuters previously investigated the company and concluded, based on shipping documents, London Stock Exchange Group data, and information from Kpler, that some oil revenues were being diverted away from the Central Bank of Libya.

How are revenues distributed?

Oil revenues are distributed across the four main chapters of the state budget, according to experts and economists.

Chapter One, salaries and wages, takes the largest share. It covers public-sector employees across eastern, western, and southern Libya through the unified national identification number system.

Chapter Two covers operating expenses for ministries and public institutions.

Chapter Three covers subsidies, including fuel, water, and electricity.

Chapter Four covers development and projects, including infrastructure, as well as allocations to the National Oil Corporation to sustain and increase production.

Al-Shahati said 26% of oil revenues went toward importing fuel products, equivalent to about $7 billion if crude traded at $70 a barrel.

This year, he said, the figure could rise to between $8 billion and $9 billion because oil prices had climbed above $85 a barrel and the gap between crude prices and diesel and gasoline prices had widened amid shortages.

He also pointed to higher domestic consumption driven by economic growth and a rise in smuggling.

A second problem, al-Shahati said, is the absence of an approved national budget, which would make it possible to determine how spending should be allocated among population groups and regions.

“What is clear is that the main cities control most spending,” he said.

He also pointed to “a large and obvious imbalance” in salaries across Libya’s three regions, job grades, and types of employment.

Those gaps, he said, risk widening financial divisions between social groups.

Even an agreement to unify development spending did not appear to be properly implemented because there were no clear standards and no comprehensive budget.

“There are no criteria for distributing oil revenues,” al-Shahati said. “The distribution process is random and unsustainable.”

Libya fell to 177th out of 182 countries in the 2025 Corruption Perceptions Index, from 173rd out of 180 countries in 2024, reflecting worsening corruption and no tangible improvement over the past two years.

Pressure on the local economy

A report by UN Secretary-General Antonio Guterres on Libya highlighted deep structural strains in the economy, driven by high public spending, near-total dependence on oil and gas revenues, and mounting pressure from food, fuel, and electricity prices.

The report, submitted to the UN Security Council on Aug. 17, covers the period from April 1 to July 28.

Citing the International Monetary Fund, it said Libya’s fiscal deficit reached 30% of gross domestic product last year, while public debt climbed to 146% of GDP.

Inflation also rose into double digits, eroding purchasing power.

The UN report noted unjustified increases in fuel consumption by military and security agencies and the energy sector, as well as repeated double purchasing.

The cost of institutional division

Libya’s political and institutional split and the presence of multiple authorities have made the economic crisis worse, al-Farsi said.

The distortions, he said, were no longer merely structural.

They had created parallel public finances and pushed consumer spending higher to meet the demands of rival authorities, sending salaries and subsidies to unprecedented levels.

Repeated shutdowns of oil fields in previous years, combined with lower actual revenues, pushed financial authorities toward deficit financing and higher public debt, al-Farsi said.

That flooded the market with money without a corresponding rise in domestic production.

Oil revenues reached $21.9 billion in 2025, according to the National Oil Corporation, up from $18.6 billion in 2024, an increase of 15%.

Al-Farsi said the deterioration in public finances had left monetary authorities in a difficult position and forced them into emergency measures to protect reserves and contain the deficit.

The result, he said, was a weaker national currency, liquidity shortages and a collapse in confidence.

Development tools had also been paralyzed.

“Monetary policy shifted from an instrument for stimulating growth and investment into a tool for managing daily crises,” he said.

Why has the crisis not been solved?

Economists point to several reasons.

Al-Shahati put “corruption spreading on an unprecedented scale” near the top of the list.

“Corruption is no longer confined to the margins,” he said. “It has come to dominate the core of public finances in key sectors, obstructing any attempt at reform.”

He also blamed the absence of an institutional vision following the breakdown of middle management, which had once linked fiscal and monetary policy to economic realities and provided unified political backing.

Policies, he said, had become detached from the economy and lost their ability to restore balance.

Conventional reforms that had worked elsewhere would not work in Libya, al-Shahati said, because the country lacked a central political authority capable of building an institutional vision and curbing corruption that had spread through both the state and private sector.

Al-Farsi said Libya could not escape its fiscal and monetary crisis without addressing the roots of the problem.

That meant unifying the management of public finances, curbing government spending, and launching genuine structural reforms that would gradually shift Libya from consuming oil rents to building a diversified economy.

Mokhtar also called on the Tripoli government to develop a strategic plan to make better use of human resources and support small and medium-sized industries.

For him, breaking Libya’s dependence on oil revenues is part of the way out.

Masoud Suleiman, chairman of Libya’s National Oil Corporation, said in media remarks last week that the country needed between $30 billion and $40 billion in investment to develop untapped oil and gas resources.

The corporation, he said, aims to raise production to 2 million barrels a day by 2030.


Bandar Abbas, Iran’s Trade Hub on Hormuz Thrust to Frontline of US War

Fishermen check their nets and small boats on the seashore in the port city of Bandar Abbas, in southern Iran on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
Fishermen check their nets and small boats on the seashore in the port city of Bandar Abbas, in southern Iran on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
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Bandar Abbas, Iran’s Trade Hub on Hormuz Thrust to Frontline of US War

Fishermen check their nets and small boats on the seashore in the port city of Bandar Abbas, in southern Iran on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
Fishermen check their nets and small boats on the seashore in the port city of Bandar Abbas, in southern Iran on August 10, 2026. (AFP)

With a long shoreline on the Strait of Hormuz, Iran's southern trade hub of Bandar Abbas has found itself at the frontlines of the war with the United States, with residents struggling to revive livelihoods battered by months of fighting.

Like elsewhere in Iran, economic strain has squeezed households since US-Israeli strikes triggered the Middle East war on February 28. But unlike much of the country, the port city of around half a million people has remained exposed to fighting even after an April 8 ceasefire brought relief elsewhere.

But despite a lull in hostilities in July, residents still feel squeezed. Saeed Tajik, 42, used to work at a shipyard before losing his job and turning to driving a taxi.

"The prices of housing and food have become extremely high. Almost all the basics -- rice, yoghurt, and oil -- have doubled," said Tajik.

Fuel shortages have long been common in southern Iran, where authorities restrict supplies in an effort to curb widespread fuel smuggling.

But now, "the queues have become longer ... it happens that we wait in the long line for fuel only to get told 'there is none' upon arriving," Tajik said as he drove past a station where motorists waited under the punishing summer heat.

Hormuz has emerged as a central flashpoint after an April ceasefire and June framework deal failed to resolve disagreements between Washington and Tehran over the future management of the strait.

During the war, US strikes hit bridges, highways and railway infrastructure around Bandar Abbas until mid-July, in what analysts saw as attempts to cut off the city and disrupt Iranian military logistics in the south.

- 'Nothing left' -

Inside the city, under a towering concrete statue of two armed men with their arms trained towards Hormuz waters, economic strains play out in long queues snaking outside petrol stations and soaring prices squeezing shoppers in local markets.

The city's repeatedly hit airport remained largely closed until August 15, leaving travelers facing arduous road journeys, sometimes combined with flights and boat crossings.

Outside the city, construction crews still toil under the sweltering summer sun to repair the Gachin bridge, split by a US strike, as cars rumble along a dusty detour below.

Along the waterfront, traditional wooden vessels known as lenjes sit moored alongside fishing and commercial boats, part of a centuries-old trading network linking southern Iran with Arab states across the Gulf.

Arash Tondro, 45, used his lenj to carry Iranian fresh and dried fruit to the United Arab Emirates and return with household goods and other imports.

"My income dropped to zero at the beginning of the war," said Tondro, who later rerouted some trade through Oman's Khasab port as regional seaways were disrupted and "many of the lenjes were hit by drones".

After the UAE suspended trade with Iran on Tuesday following a missile attack on a ship that Tehran denied carrying out, Tondro said he was again unsure how his work would be impacted.

"People in the south mostly rely on trade or fishing. If you take the sea and trade away from them, there is practically nothing left. We don't have agriculture here; whatever there is comes from the sea," he said.

- 'No sales' -

As night falls and August's oppressive heat begins to ease, fish vendors set up along a busy street, laying out shark, tuna and shrimp as the smell of the day's catch hangs in the humid air.

Among them is 22-year-old Anoush Mallah, who recently moved onto the street after soaring rents forced him to close his shop in one of the city's bazaars.

"Business has been terrible since the war started. There are no sales, it's very weak," he told AFP.

"People are short of money. The fishermen aren't going fishing either."

Many fishermen around Bandar Abbas only began returning to sea in recent weeks, after months ashore for fear of being caught in the crossfire of US-Iran fighting.

Diplomatic efforts have so far failed to end the war. For Mallah, the uncertainty only adds to the strain.

"Let it (the war) start and get some result; right now, we're just left in limbo," he said.


The Ethiopian Dam Dispute and Egypt’s ‘Right to Self-Defense’

Egyptian Foreign Minister Badr Abdelatty. Photo: Foreign Ministry
Egyptian Foreign Minister Badr Abdelatty. Photo: Foreign Ministry
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The Ethiopian Dam Dispute and Egypt’s ‘Right to Self-Defense’

Egyptian Foreign Minister Badr Abdelatty. Photo: Foreign Ministry
Egyptian Foreign Minister Badr Abdelatty. Photo: Foreign Ministry

Over the past two weeks, Egypt has repeatedly stressed its right to prevent any actions by Addis Ababa on the Nile River that could harm its water interests, stressing that it possesses the “right to self-defense” over Ethiopia’s Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD).

According to experts who spoke to Asharq Al-Awsat, Egypt’s signaling means that it “will not hesitate to use all legitimate means to safeguard its water security.”

They explained that the message is a stern warning to Ethiopia and suggests that Cairo is seeking to shift from a policy of protesting Ethiopian measures to preventive deterrence, aimed at stopping the establishment of a new status quo on the Nile.

New Egyptian Warning

Egyptian Foreign Minister Badr Abdelatty said that “Egypt will not allow the construction of additional dams ... that affect its water interests,” stressing Cairo’s commitment to a legally binding agreement that guarantees its water rights.

In a television interview on Wednesday evening, Abdelatty said that Egypt does not oppose African countries’ right to development, noting Cairo’s participation in dam and infrastructure projects in several Nile Basin states. However, he stressed the need to balance the right to development with the rights of downstream countries.

He also underscored Egypt’s commitment to protecting its water interests. “We have the right to self-defense to protect our interests and water security,” said the minister. “We will not accept any agreement regarding the Nile River unless it is legally binding,” he reiterated.

Mohamed Hegazy, a member of the Egyptian Council for Foreign Affairs and a former assistant foreign minister, says the right of self-defense is protected under international law after all peaceful means have been exhausted.

According to Hegazy, the core message is that Cairo still prefers agreement and negotiation, but it no longer accepts using negotiations to impose a fait accompli.

He argued that the most significant aspect of Abdelatty’s statements is that they send three simultaneous messages - Rejection of unilateral measures, rejection of additional dams, and insistence on the right of self-defense to protect water security.

Hussein El-Behairy, an African affairs expert at the National Center for Middle East Studies, said the minister’s recent statements reaffirm Egypt’s right to defend its historical and water rights in the Nile by whatever means the Egyptian state deems appropriate to preserve what Egyptians view as a matter of life and death.

Ethiopia’s Grand Ethiopian Renaissance Dam (GERD). Reuters

Escalating Egyptian Position

This is the third time Egypt has signaled the possibility of using its “right to self-defense” and preventing dam construction on the Nile.

On August 16, Egypt’s state news agency quoted an unnamed Egyptian official as saying that Cairo “will neither accept nor allow any party to control the flow of Nile waters to downstream countries,” stressing that the Egyptian state possesses multiple tools capable of protecting its people’s interests in the Nile.

The statement came in response to remarks attributed to Ethiopian Minister of Water and Energy Habtamu Itefa concerning the construction of additional dams on the Nile and control over water flows to downstream states, namely Egypt and Sudan.

Earlier, on August 4, Egyptian Minister of Water Resources and Irrigation Hani Sewilam stated during a press conference that Egypt “will not allow the construction of new Ethiopian dams on the Nile River.”

He said: “It is well known that Ethiopia has plans to build additional dams, but will the Egyptian state allow this? No.”

According to Hegazy, the ball is now in Ethiopia’s court. If Addis Ababa agrees to resume serious negotiations leading to a legally binding agreement on GERD, the crisis can be contained.

However, if Ethiopia continues to create new realities on the Nile, the scope for a diplomatic solution will narrow, making risk management and deterrence a more prominent part of Egypt’s strategy.

El-Behairy does not expect the escalation to pave the way for new negotiations on GERD unless the Ethiopian government is willing to make concessions in response to Cairo’s demands. These demands include reaching a legally binding agreement that guarantees Egypt’s water rights during periods of drought and severe drought, and providing Egypt with information regarding the operation of the dam in a manner that does not harm its water interests.