Assad’s ‘Trap’: A Night That Shook Tehran’s Allies in Baghdad

A defaced portrait of Syria's ousted President Bashar al-Assad hangs on a wall in the capital Damascus on June 2, 2025. (AFP)
A defaced portrait of Syria's ousted President Bashar al-Assad hangs on a wall in the capital Damascus on June 2, 2025. (AFP)
TT

Assad’s ‘Trap’: A Night That Shook Tehran’s Allies in Baghdad

A defaced portrait of Syria's ousted President Bashar al-Assad hangs on a wall in the capital Damascus on June 2, 2025. (AFP)
A defaced portrait of Syria's ousted President Bashar al-Assad hangs on a wall in the capital Damascus on June 2, 2025. (AFP)

A senior Iraqi security official urged his driver to pick up speed as they raced toward Damascus airport. He needed to catch a flight back to Baghdad, while alerts kept lighting up his phone.

One message stood out: “The Syrian factions are on their way to the capital.”

It was Saturday evening, December 7, 2024, and the official had just wrapped up a routine mission in northeastern Syria to coordinate border security. But Syria itself was on the edge of a dramatic shift, its old order crumbling and a new one taking shape in the ruins.

At the outskirts of Damascus, the official’s convoy halted, waiting for “extraordinary arrangements” with the emerging authorities. A flurry of sudden, unexpected contacts unfolded between the two sides.

A former Syrian official from the Military Operations Directorate said it was “the first time that Hayat Tahrir al-Sham group communicated with an official in the Iraqi government.”

An Iraqi security officer who was present during the arrangements said that “the process went ahead with unexpected ease at the time, and we entered Damascus” alongside members of the group on the morning of December 8, 2024. Then a message arrived like a lightning strike: “Bashar al-Assad has fled.”

Damascus airport was a ghostly stage. Even the officers of the Air Transport Brigade whom the Iraqi official knew had disappeared. No one asked for a ticket or a passport. The diplomatic lane was wide open to the wind. The man boarded a special flight to Baghdad.

As the plane climbed through daylight, the Iraqi security official carried a bag full of questions about the new Syria.

On the same route, but on the ground, Iraqi militias that had been stationed in Syria since 2011 were withdrawing. Convoys moved from the Damascus countryside toward Al-Bukamal near the Iraqi border, making a final one-way journey for hundreds of fighters, leaving behind 15 years of a “Resistance Axis” now collapsing like a mountain of sand.

Exclusive testimonies gathered by Asharq Al-Awsat from Iraqi figures involved in the Syrian file before Assad’s escape reveal how militias withdrew from Syria without coordination or prior arrangements.

The accounts describe what unfolded behind the scenes, including how they viewed the events, and later showed that Tehran, Moscow and Assad had each made separate decisions not to fight in Syria, failing to share essential information with their Iraqi allies until late.

The testimonies also shed light on the reactions of Shiite groups following the collapse of the Assad regime, including calls to strengthen the influence of armed factions in Iraq’s political process and reinforce what became known as “Shiite governance” in Baghdad, in order to “absorb the shock felt by those who had been left behind in Syria.”

Damascus airport after the collapse of the Assad regime. (AFP file)

‘It was not a maneuver... we were deceived’

On November 30, 2024, three days after the launch of Operation Deterrence of Aggression to topple the Syrian regime, Iraqi Prime Minister Mohammed Shia al-Sudani held a phone call with Syrian President Bashar al-Assad.

At that time, Syrian opposition factions had seized control of the Aleppo countryside. Sudani told Assad that “Syria’s security is tied to Iraq’s national security.” The following day, the opposition encircled Hama. Sudani did not call Assad again.

In Nineveh, the northern Iraqi province that borders Syria, Shiite militia leaders attempted to send reinforcements to Syria, since “as the Syrian factions advanced, the number of Iran-aligned fighters was far smaller than in previous years.” A militia official in Nineveh said they told their fighters, “You must protect the Shiites and the shrines in Syria,” and many volunteers were eager to join.

Kadhim al-Fartousi, spokesman for Kataib Sayyid al-Shuhada, which had been active in Syria since 2013, said the group withdrew in late 2023. “Our mission was over,” he said.

Until 2018, Syria was crowded with more than 150,000 fighters from Iran’s Revolutionary Guard, Hezbollah and Iraqi militias, according to Iraqi and Syrian security estimates. The Syrian army under the former regime appeared smaller than the foreign forces operating on its territory. By December 2023, something had changed.

The Revolutionary Guard allowed several Shiite groups to leave after consultations with Assad. It was widely said that a “regional deal” had driven this shift.

As part of the partial withdrawal of Iranian-backed forces from Syria in 2023, Assad was attempting to regain Syria’s seat in the Arab League. It required significant time and diplomatic maneuvering to prepare for an almost impossible reintegration with the Arab world, which ultimately did not materialize.

When Operation Deterrence of Aggression began in November 2024, the number of Iranian groups in Syria had fallen to several thousand, but Assad’s return to the Arab fold was not complete.

As opposition factions advanced toward Damascus, the prevailing belief was that Shiite groups were moving to plug a gap that no one had noticed.

On December 2, 2024, dozens of fighters infiltrated Syria at night via an unofficial military road, but United States aircraft struck their convoys near Al-Bukamal. After that, it became clear that those who had been eager to enter Syria were backing off.

The next morning, Syrian opposition forces seized 14 towns in Hama and turned to the battle for Homs. That day, Iraq’s Kataib Hezbollah said “it is too early to decide on sending military support to Syria.”

A senior member of a Shiite armed group said he asked his superiors in Baghdad about the first days of Operation Deterrence of Aggression. “Do not worry... Syria may fall to the opposition, but Damascus will hold,” they told him, referring to Assad’s grip on the capital.

“A week later,” he added, “we could no longer comprehend what had happened.”

Before the opposition reached Homs, Shiite groups assumed the advance would stop there. A commander said intelligence reports reviewed by officials in Iraq’s National Security Service, the Popular Mobilization Forces leadership and militia commanders indicated that Russia and Iran would halt the opposition’s momentum and that Homs would be the decisive point.

But Russia used its air superiority sparingly. As opposition factions moved from Hama toward Homs on December 6, 2024, aircraft believed to be Russian struck the Al-Rastan bridge linking the two cities with destructive force, but not enough to prevent convoys from crossing.

Later aerial footage showed Sukhoi jets armed with missiles sitting unused at Russia’s Hmeimim airbase as opposition fighters crossed the bridge into Homs, which was fully taken by dawn on December 7.

At this point, many within the so-called Resistance Axis became convinced that the swift advance of the opposition was not a mere maneuver. The militia commander said they realized “the Iranians had given us conflicting signals... maybe they were deceived too.”

Questions about the roles of Tehran and Moscow remained unresolved. Shiite factions had no clear answers in the months following Assad’s escape.

Today, Fartousi, the Kataib Sayyid al-Shuhada spokesman, believes that “the Russian and Iranian position only shifted after the Assad regime retreated, the forces holding the ground collapsed and the battle turned into a confrontation with the people.”

But sources from factions active in Syria since 2013 spoke of “a decision taken early by Iran not to wage a battle in Syria due to far more complex regional calculations.”

According to these sources, “Iran was not confident of favorable outcomes had it confronted the opposition’s advance, because it realized too late that Moscow was acting independently in Syria.”

In the end, the pillars of the alliance between Moscow, Tehran and Assad appeared to be drifting apart, taking separate battlefield decisions that enabled the opposition’s rapid advance and Assad’s even faster escape. What is certain, the Shiite commander said, is that “the Iraqi groups were not central to the discussions that led to what happened.”

By then, more than ten Iraqi factions had spent over a decade on the Syrian front, during which thousands of fighters were drawn into a sea of blood.

Assad shakes hands with Iraqi PM Mohammed Shia al-Sudani in Damascus. (File photo)

‘And the wheel turns’

At six in the morning on December 8, 2024, former Iraqi Prime Minister Adel Abdulmahdi posted on X about how tables turn and the “aggressor” is overtaken by events. Shock swept through Shiite political forces in Baghdad. Assad had fled and the regime had fallen.

Two days after the liberation, all factions had left Syrian territory and Assad was in Moscow. On December 12, 2024, Nouri al-Maliki, leader of the State of Law Coalition and a long-time ally of Assad, declared that “the goal of what happened in Damascus is to stir the street in Baghdad.” Public opinion erupted with questions.

Shiite political circles in Baghdad struggled to absorb the shock. Private discussions intensified around “the future of the Shiites in Iraq,” dominated by deep confusion, according to participants in closed-door meetings held in the weeks following Assad’s escape.

They said Shiite decision-makers found no answers regarding what had happened in Syria or Iran’s role, and many struggled to answer how Iraq and the region would change after Assad.

One participant in a private session held in January 2025 said the crisis in Syria was not about Assad’s escape or the collapse of the Resistance Axis, but for Iraqi Shiites it was about “redefining their role after old alliances and balances had crumbled.”

Secondary effects of this difficult debate emerged within Shiite groups. Many within the resistance environment began promoting the concept of a “Shiite federation” stretching from Iraq’s Samarra to Basra on top of vast oil reserves. The idea faded quickly, like cold ash.

Talk of “Shiite governance” intensified. A militia commander said: “Shiite forces in recent months focused on strengthening the domestic scene and consolidating their presence in political life, which explains their active participation in the elections held on November 11, 2025, and the victory of armed factions in seats in the new parliament.”

It appeared that all those who had fought in Syria won seats in the new legislature. Asaib Ahl al-Haq, led by Qais al-Khazali, secured 28 seats. The Badr Organization, led by Hadi al-Amiri, won 18. The Rights bloc, linked to Kataib Hezbollah, won six. A list affiliated with Kataib Imam Ali won three. The Services Alliance, led by Shibl al-Zaidi, won nine seats.

These groups are now proposing a transitional project built on new Shiite roles, driven by the growing ambition of leaders such as Khazali to craft an umbrella that shields Shiite groups from fragmentation by expanding their influence in both the legislative and executive branches of the state.

In March 2025, Khazali was asked about the new Syria. He said: “It is the duty and interest of the Iraqi state to engage with it, as long as those governments represent their countries.”

A Shiite leader said the moment Assad fled was not a Syrian event as much as “an earthquake in Shiite consciousness inside Iraq,” pushing everyone to reconsider the alliances that had shaped the region for years.

But beneath this transformation lie lingering questions and doubts about “the future of the Iranian doctrine itself,” now facing major disruption after four decades of uninterrupted influence across the region.

“The answer,” the commander said, “has not yet matured.”



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)
TT

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
TT

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.


Train to Nowhere? South Korea’s Lonely Push for Peace with the North

A locomotive is seen at the Woljeong-ri Station in Cheorwon, Gangwon Province, in South Korea, near the demilitarized zone separating North and South Korea on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
A locomotive is seen at the Woljeong-ri Station in Cheorwon, Gangwon Province, in South Korea, near the demilitarized zone separating North and South Korea on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
TT

Train to Nowhere? South Korea’s Lonely Push for Peace with the North

A locomotive is seen at the Woljeong-ri Station in Cheorwon, Gangwon Province, in South Korea, near the demilitarized zone separating North and South Korea on August 10, 2026. (AFP)
A locomotive is seen at the Woljeong-ri Station in Cheorwon, Gangwon Province, in South Korea, near the demilitarized zone separating North and South Korea on August 10, 2026. (AFP)

Near the heavily fortified frontier dividing the Korean peninsula, the abandoned Woljeong-ri station is being recast as a symbol of South Korea's hopes to reconcile with the North.

But plans to reconnect South Korea's northernmost station to the rail network come at an awkward moment, as Pyongyang ignores Seoul's overtures while the South's old ally Washington pursues its own talks with Pyongyang.

A turbulent few days have raised doubts about the role of South Korea in any diplomatic push, despite President Lee Jae Myung's dovish line on the North since taking power last year.

US President Donald Trump abruptly scaled back annual military drills with Seoul this week, calling them "inappropriate and hostile" towards the nuclear-armed North.

He also berated South Korea for not helping in his war against Iran and said he would meet the North's leader Kim Jong Un this year.

North Korea then fired around 10 short-range ballistic missiles on Thursday, while Kim's powerful sister mocked Seoul's "master-servant" relationship with Washington.

The developments have overshadowed the Lee administration's outreach, including the Woljeong-ri project aimed at "eventual" reconciliation.

The modest station -- originally located inside today's demilitarized zone (DMZ) -- once sat on a line linking Seoul to Wonsan, but was destroyed during the 1950-53 Korean War. It was reconstructed at its current site in the border town of Cheorwon in 1988.

It is now an attraction for visitors to the nearby DMZ separating the two countries, and the line's former terminus -- Wonsan -- lies in North Korea.

Its history, however, underscores how vulnerable such hopes are to the politics of the peninsula.

Work began in 2015 but ground to a halt just a year later after North Korea's fourth nuclear test.

The latest reboot inspires more skepticism than hope for some in Cheorwon.

"It seems like they keep trying to reconcile with North Korea (through the railway project), but from our point of view, it isn't really practical," said resident Moon Jae-yong, 70.

- Lonely push for peace -

South Korea's reconciliation program eventually aims to restore rail links, such as Woljeong-ri, with the North.

Lee has also said he is ready for talks with Pyongyang without preconditions, including on formally ending the Korean War, which concluded with an armistice.

His unification minister said in July that Seoul had shifted from prioritizing denuclearization to curbing the expansion of North Korea's nuclear program.

But Pyongyang -- emboldened by support from traditional ally China, and Russia, whose invasion of Ukraine it is backing -- has been unmoved.

It has repeatedly declared itself an "irreversible" nuclear state and labelled Seoul its "most hostile" enemy.

The US leader may be trying to revive diplomacy to record a foreign policy win ahead of November's midterm elections, with many voters disenchanted by his intervention in the Middle East.

That has sidelined Seoul, with Lee voicing respect for Trump's decision and pledging to "do his utmost" to support his peacemaking efforts.

South Korea is "reasonably afraid that it gets sidelined -- China, Russia and now America are all engaged with Pyongyang in different ways, while Seoul is not," Vladimir Tikhonov, Korean Studies professor at the University of Oslo, told AFP.

"So, Seoul is desperate to get some opening with North Korea. But it can do very little, so far."

- Impossible dream? -

That leaves the rail project standing as a symbol of South Korea's lonely push for peace.

Along the disused line from Woljeong-ri towards Baengmagoji station to the south -- the section to be restored under the peace project -- vegetation crowds both sides of the tracks, nearly swallowing a stone wall.

"The iron horse wants to run," a sign reads, alongside a phrase in English: "We want to be back on track."

Preparing infrastructure in the South now could save time if inter-Korean links are eventually restored, said Lim Eul-chul, a professor at Kyungnam University.

"But realistically, it is virtually impossible under the current circumstances, and everyone knows that," he told AFP.

With few options on North Korea, Seoul has turned to projects it can "pursue unilaterally", Lim said.

The project also aims to boost tourism along the border, where residents face frequent disruptions and security risks.

Pyongyang sent trash-filled balloons and broadcast unsettling noises across the border during the administration of Lee's hawkish predecessor, Yoon Suk Yeol.

Kim Sun-hee, 70, described them as "like scraping cement, or even ghost-like noises. It was really frightening".

A bombed-out locomotive from the Korean War remains near Woljeong-ri station as a reminder of the division.

It is "heartbreaking to see", said visitor Ahn Seung-hyun.