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The Asad Dynasty
Isabel Kershner
 BEYOND THE 'SYRIAN SPHINX': Hafiz al-Asad's image has dominated Damascus for the last 30 years (Norbert Schiller) |
For much of his 30-year rule over Syria, President Hafiz al-Asad has been described as ailing. Having suffered a heart attack in the early 1980s and known to be suffering from a variety of other health problems including cancer, Asad's possible demise has been the object of speculation for decades. Prematurely, as it turns out, since the 69-year-old Syrian leader has so far managed to outlive contemporary rulers like King Hussein of Jordan, King Hassan of Morocco, Israeli prime minister Yitzhak Rabin and even an entire empire - his former staunch ally, the Soviet Union.
Now, though, there are clear signs that Asad the survivor, the all-powerful yet little-known personification of a regime that turned Syria from a fractious, coup-ridden backwater into a regional power, is finally approaching his twilight.
"He can function, but on three cylinders at best," says one senior Western source who has frequented Damascus in recent years. "For a few hours a day, he's very clear about what he wants to do. But much of the rest of the time he's confused. He's not the same Asad."
Asad himself appears to have acknowledged his frailty, stepping up the grooming - some say testing - of his 34-year-old son Bashar, his intended successor. Informed sources also attribute the president's decision to resume negotiations with Israel at least in part to his feeling that time may be running out, as well as his desire to ensure Bashar's succession, which is expected to be problematic.
Not that the will to reach a settlement with Israel is new. A senior Washington source notes that Asad was even prepared to negotiate with Benjamin Netanyahu, whom he distrusted immensely, and to go along with Netanyahu's insistence on acting behind the Americans' backs. He is said by reliable sources to have elicited from Netanyahu a commitment on a full withdrawal from the Golan Heights, almost to the June 4, 1967 lines - though in the end the Israeli prime minister failed to come through with the maps.
Now, however, the atmosphere seems ripe for a deal. By the summer Washington will be caught up in its own presidential election campaign. Before that the Clinton administration will likely be swept up again by the Israeli-Palestinian drama as the deadlines set by Barak for a final settlement approach. The Americans believe Asad understands that this may be his last chance to deal successfully with Israel. Syria's stagnant economy and severe drought, Asad's desire to go into the new century with a relationship with the United States, and his apparent trust of Barak are all factors driving Damascus toward a settlement - as long as its terms are met.
Israel and Syria have much work to do on the complex issues of borders, security arrangements and water resources, all of which are still "potential deal-breakers," according to Prof. Itamar Rabinovich, president of Tel Aviv University and a former head of the Israeli team to peace talks with Syria. But the indications are that a deal, at least in principle, may be on the cards sooner than many expect - possibly even within weeks. There is enough of an outline in place, says Rabinovich, so that by the end of the January talks at Shepherdstown, West Virginia, "we should know."
What few Israelis know, however, is just whom they are making peace with. And this is a crucial question, given that a peace treaty with Damascus means, a priori, the return of the strategic Golan Heights that Israel captured from Syria in 1967. This costly territorial concession means that any peace deal is likely to be far more traumatic for large segments of the Israeli public than for the Syrians. The Syrians will have to give up a deeply ingrained hostility to Israel. But while Syrian public opinion is hard to gauge due to the autocratic nature of the regime and the absence of any free press, Patrick Seale, a British journalist and confidante of President Asad, reports that Syria's "strategic choice for peace" has been "dinned into the public" at great length, through press and poster campaigns, and has gained "wide assent."
Israeli advocates of a settlement with Syria argue that such a deal is not just Asad's desire but a Syrian national interest. "People there don't want to eat slogans like in the 1950s and 60s," says Hebrew University Prof. Moshe Maoz, an internationally renowned Syria scholar and author of "Asad, the Sphinx of Damascus." Maoz believes that for Asad, the peace process has long been about "promoting standards of living and the economy, showing a desire to try to satisfy public opinion."
Furthermore, Asad's readiness to come to terms with Israel represents a major ideological switch in Syria, "where Arab nationalism was first invented in the nineteenth century," notes Azmi Bishara, a member of Knesset of the Balad party. Bishara has visited Syria twice in recent months, meeting with Asad and other senior officials. In Washington, Syrian Foreign Minister Farouk a-Shara stated that the time had come to focus on the "battle of borders, not the battle of existence," a reference to a debate that has been raging in Arab nationalist circles since the late 60s. "This is not just a Syrian recognition of Israel," stresses Bishara, "but a recognition of Israel by Arab nationalism itself - something that neither the late King Hussein nor Yasser Arafat could claim to represent."
Nevertheless, the inscrutability of the semi-reclusive Asad and his current regime and the uncertainty about its future, as well as assessments of Syria's weakened economy and even pending collapse, have all become grist for Israelis opposed to territorial concessions on the Golan. Advocates of an albeit painful compromise counter that by waiting to see what unfolds in Damascus, Israel may miss the historic opportunity for a settlement altogether, at the same time precluding any peaceful Israeli accommodation with Lebanon - which Syria to all intents and purposes controls. But they, too, acknowledge that making peace with Syria involves a calculated risk.
"We are dealing with a regime approaching a major change, even a transformation," says Rabinovich, himself a respected Syria specialist. "And the truth of the matter is that nobody has answers to the questions that bother us with regard to continuity, stability and the like."
For that reason, says a senior source in Washington, the security arrangements arrived at under any deal would need to provide a fail-safe against future worst-case scenarios. "We wouldn't want to depend on the intentions of leaders we don't know."
INDEED, SOME OF THE REPORTS THAT HAVE recently made their tortuous way out of Syria have not painted too pretty a picture of the Asads' family life and all but dispel the notion of a smooth and harmonious transition of power. An Addam's Family-like feud between Hafiz al-Asad and his exiled younger brother, Rifaat, has simmered ever since Rifaat stood behind a failed coup attempt in 1984. It erupted again in mid-October when Syrian army units launched an all-out attack on Rifaat's holiday mansion in the port city of Latakia.
The regime, for its part, claimed that the army stormed an illegal port at the compound after those using it to smuggle goods in and out of Syria had ignored repeated warnings to close it down. But sources in Beirut say that the Syrian government suspected the ambitious Rifaat of plotting from his base in Europe to revive the dismantled Defense Units, or Saraya al-Difaa, the quasi-private army he had commanded before being forced into exile. Rifaat, who divides his time between Paris and the Spanish resort of Marbella, has secretly been contacting loyal generals and other military personnel, the sources say, as a first step toward seizing control of the country at the right moment.
Earlier in October, according to reports from Beirut, Syrian security forces had carried out a wave of arrests that included generals and other high-ranking army officers suspected of "opposing the leadership's line of thinking." A week later, some 40 tanks reportedly surrounded Rifaat's holiday home, and when a call to those inside to surrender went unheeded, an order was issued to storm the compound. Meeting armed resistance from Rifaat's supporters, the tanks unleashed their fire, destroying the house and everyone within. The sources in Beirut spoke of dozens killed and wounded, while the media owned by Rifaat's London-based son, Somar, reported hundreds of casualties. A security cordon around the area prevented any corroboration of the facts.
The Latakia incident was the buzz of Lebanon. Yet none of the local newspapers made any mention of it. It is now clear that even the Lebanese media, which prides itself as one of the freest in the region, has a very narrow margin of maneuver when it comes to matters relating to Syria. Somar, on the other hand, has been referring to his uncle Hafiz ever since as "the tyrant" in the daily column he writes for his London-based newspaper, Al-Arab.
In another bizarre twist in November, unconfirmed French newspaper reports spoke of a second violent family episode inside the presidential palace in Damascus. President Asad's youngest son, Maher, who had been little heard of before, apparently shot and injured his brother-in-law, Assef Shawqat, who is married to Asad's daughter Bushra and a rising star in one of Syria's internal security services. Both Shawqat and Maher had been considered supporters of Bashar.
THE COMMON PERCEPTION ABROAD of Hafiz al-Asad's regime has long been that of a one-man dictatorship that rules by fear and is upheld by a junta of officers from the minority Alawi sect, of which Asad is a member. (The Alawis are thought to make up some 12 percent of Syria's population of 16 million.) The true picture, however, is far more subtle and complex. The regime that Asad has built rests upon a number of pillars. And though not democratic, it is representative enough of the Syrian population to have earned it domestic respect, experts say, and a certain appeal for many beyond the Alawi community who have a vested interest in its stability and survival.
It is true that Asad has concentrated much of the power in his own hands. "He can enact laws, he can fire senior officials like Farouk al-Shara, he heads the ruling Baath party - he's pretty busy," says Maoz. Asad also keeps in direct contact with the heads of each of the 10 or 12 secret services, which are staffed mostly by Alawis, and is personally in touch with all the combat units as well. "Every promotion to the rank of major," Maoz continues, "must be approved by Asad himself."
It is also true that his fellow Alawis - members of a relatively obscure Shi'ite schism of Islam that some Muslims even consider heretical - provide the backbone, or safety net, of the regime, dominating the security services and other sensitive military positions.
At the same time, however, Asad has carved out a much wider base of civilian support. He remains just as involved with the business community and the professional associations of the farmers, industrialists, physicians and the like. He has surrounded himself with a very strong group of old friends and comrades, Alawis and Sunnis alike.
Most of the inner cabinet members, including Shara, Vice President Abd al-Halim Khaddam and Defense Minister Mustafa Tlas, are from the majority Sunni community, to which close to 70 percent of the population belongs. The former army chief of staff, Hikmat Shihabi, is another trusted Sunni ally. Many of these key figures have accompanied Asad for decades. The powerful Alawis remain mostly in the shadows, and the only prominent Alawi in the government is the veteran information minister, Muhammad Salman. Even in the military, many senior positions are known to be occupied by Sunnis, as well as by members of other minorities, like the Christians and Druse.
The ruling Baath Party, whose doctrine is socialist pan-Arabism, has, like the military, served as a vehicle for Syria's minorities and rural notables. The Baathist revolution of the 1960s ousted the old rule of the urban Sunni elite. It was a real revolution, says Maoz, in that it achieved its aim not only of "Arabizing" the Syrian population but of bringing the country's minorities into the national fold.
"All his life, Asad has been an Arab nationalist," says Patrick Seale, author of "Asad of Syria - The Struggle for the Middle East," the closest thing to an official biography of the Syrian leader. "He always sought to move beyond his sectarian background and not to retreat into narrow sectarianism. The Alawi community itself is not monolithic. Most of Asad's disputes have been with fellow Alawis who were too sectarian for his tastes, were pushing their communal interest too hard or were acting too radically towards the business classes, who are Sunni."
Tellingly, the 21-member Regional Command of the Baath party, an influential national body that keeps the regime ideologically in line, is mostly Sunni and counts only two Alawis among its ranks.
Eyal Zisser of Tel Aviv University's Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African Studies describes the Syrian regime as an interesting, even unique phenomenon. "It's a personal regime - Asad created it, dictates policy and brought in his people. And it's familial. To a certain degree it's a mafia, a family business. It's also communal, sectorial, based on the Alawis who make up 90 percent of the high-ranking officers. But having said this, it is also an ideological regime committed to pan-Arabism."
Different dimensions of the regime come into play depending on the issue at hand. Thus the question of succession, Zisser maintains, belongs primarily to the familial sphere and the stability of the regime remains a sectorial (Alawi) affair, while peace with Israel is firmly in the ideological domain. When Shara returned from the December talks in Washington, one source told The Report, he had to sit for five hours explaining their ins and outs to the Baath party Regional Command.
In a paper he wrote for the Washington Institute for Near East Policy, "Decision- Making in Asad's Syria," Zisser contends that for all Asad's power, he is not alone at the top and doesn't act in a vacuum. Though all the strands that make up the inner circle ultimately depend on Asad, he also depends on them for support. Asad is acutely aware of the political limitations of his own power and weaknesses of his regime. He is also conscious of the need to satisfy public opinion in Syria. This, Zisser argues, has "rendered Asad cautious, even hesitant, but it has also provided the basis on which his accomplishments rest. The same is true first and foremost of the achievement of domestic political stability - and thus of Asad's own political survival."
Asad hasn't shied away from using brute force, when he believed it was necessary. He quelled an armed uprising led by the fundamentalist Muslim Brotherhood in the early 80s with an attack on the city of Hama, carried out by Rifaat's Defense Units. About 10,000 people are believed to have been killed in the raid, though some have put the figure at up to three times that number.
Even today, hundreds of political prisoners languish in Syrian jails, according to Amnesty International. They include some of the longest-serving political detainees in the world, who have been held incommunicado, without being charged or tried, since the 70s and early 80s.
The fear factor remains potent in Syria, though observers say the atmosphere seems to have grown more relaxed in recent years. "It's not Iraq," says Maoz.
If anything, Asad has proven himself to be an arch pragmatist. Though the Baath ideology is essentially secularist, he soon realized that secularism was not going to work. Three years after seizing power, notes Maoz, a clause stipulating that Islam is the religion of the president was deleted from the draft of the permanent Syrian constitution, provoking violent Muslim disturbances. Asad had the riots crushed mercilessly, but he also reintroduced the "Islamic clause" into the constitution. He has since encouraged the building of mosques, allowed women to again don the Islamic veil, and has set up a string of "al-Asad" religious schools for the study of the Koran. But the religion that Asad backs is a broad, pragmatic Islam that embraces minority sects, such as the Alawis and Druse.
Baathist pan-Arabism has also fallen somewhat by the wayside. The Palestinians have noted wryly that they didn't warrant even a single mention in Shara's December speech in Washington. And back in the early 90s Asad had already opted to join the Western-led coalition in the war against Syria's sister/rival state, Iraq.
"Asad has changed over the decades," says Maoz. "He has internalized the constraints of Syria, the balance of power vis-a-vis Israel, events in the Soviet Union and so on. He learned that Israel cannot be eliminated. All of this has worked to diminish his ideological fire. He's a person who can take on board the new realities."
And yet, like a latter-day King Canute trying to turn back the waves, Asad has done all he can to prevent, or at least slow down, the opening of Syrian society to the process of globalization. Nevertheless, the inexorable march of the technological revolution is making inroads into Damascus. Satellite TV beams in Arabic-language channels from abroad, like the Qatar-based Al-Jazeera, which has gained a reputation throughout the region for its lively, sometimes controversial coverage and debate. Mobile phones are apparently on the way - tenders are said to have been put out - and the Internet has made its debut, though access is still limited to a few businessmen and ranking members of Syrian high society.
The Syrian economy, too, is largely a socialist-style dinosaur, though a small but dynamic private sector has grown up over the last 10 to 15 years. Though Asad hasn't done much to encourage it, he hasn't prevented it, either.
Prof. Eliahu Kanovsky, an economist at Bar-Ilan University, paints a dismal picture of Syria's ailing economy, which he has researched at length. "It's obvious that the problems the Syrian economy faces are self-inflicted," he says, noting that the regime has resisted privatization and done nothing to encourage foreign investment. Charting the country's economic decline, he notes that since oil was discovered in Syria in 1968, the economy has become increasingly dependent on it, both directly and indirectly through the remittances of Syrian workers in other oil-rich states and donations from the Gulf states.
Syria has been "saved" a few times, he says, by the sharp rises in oil prices, for example, in 1973-4 and following the Iranian revolution of 1979. And it was saved again in the early 90s by the payoffs Syria received for joining the coalition against Iraq. But that money soon ran out, and since the mid-90s Syria has been in serious recession. In addition, the golden age of obtaining arms practically for free came to an end with the dissolution of the Soviet Union. As a result, Kanovsky states, much of Syria's military equipment has deteriorated for lack of spare parts.
Kanovsky adds that the economy also suffers from structural defects such as the overstaffed and inefficient state-owned enterprises and a grossly overstaffed bureaucracy. Some 45 percent of the population, he estimates, is supported by the public sector. The most formidable obstacle to basic reforms, he states, is that "those who have the power to restructure the economy are the very same people who benefit so handsomely from the current system."
For in Syria, corruption is rife. Knowledgeable sources describe it as endemic, an inherent part of the infrastructure. It ranges from the "something extra" required by the repairman to get an appliance fixed, to big-time backscratching and graft by the highest-ranking employees of the state. Kanovsky speaks of corruption on a "massive" scale and points to an entire underground economy - much of it connected to Syria's Lebanese backyard - whose dimensions are unknown. In the West, there have long been charges that Syrian officials are personally engaged in narcotics smuggling, and the U.S. State Department still has Syria on its list of countries involved in drug trafficking.
In some ways, it seems that this alternate economy is what makes the regime tick. The possibility and practice of vast enrichment has given many Syrians beyond the immediate circle of power players a real stake in the stability and survival of the Asad emporium. The burgeoning bourgeoisie, known as the "new class" of Sunni entrepreneurs, largely obtained its contracts and made its money through links to the regime.
As Eyal Zisser describes it, a general in the military who may earn 10,000 Syrian pounds a month - roughly $200 - can't be expected to be satisfied with that. So the regime turns a blind eye to corruption. "As a commander," he says, "you'd be allowed to exploit your power to ensure that you pitch up with your division at the right time and on the right side."
Naturally, the Alawi strongmen benefit greatly from the system. Their commands, according to Zisser, have been turned into politically and economically rewarding fiefdoms, whether by the active encouragement or tacit agreement of the regime. They may collect commissions from business people or become silent partners in certain business ventures. Soldiers may be detailed to work on agricultural plots or in construction. And smuggling goods out of Lebanon - including drugs, according to Western reports - has proved a lucrative trade. Warranted or not, Asad's brother Rifaat acquired a reputation as the master of corruption and is still referred to in some Western diplomatic circles as a "ghastly criminal."
The kickback system, Zisser notes, was not invented by the Syrians; to a greater or lesser extent, it is a fact of life in the region. But in Syria, recent visitors say, the scale of corruption makes everyday life hard for those without contacts or money, and it causes considerable resentment.
Rabinovich points out that in the late 70s, Asad instituted an anti-corruption campaign. But since he didn't touch "the main culprit" - his brother Rifaat - the Syrian public grew cynical. "People are bitter," he says, "but I think they're resigned."
BASHAR AL-ASAD, TALL AND MUSTACHED, is only 34. The Syrian constitution stipulates that a president must be at least 40. But should his father depart the scene sooner rather than later, Bashar's age will likely be the least of his problems. The constitution can always be changed. If the inevitable does happen sooner, however, there are serious doubts as to whether Bashar, an ophthalmologist who is often described as gentle, will be up to the job.
It is believed in some circles that Asad would not have resumed peace talks with Israel had he not received assurances from the United States that it will help smooth the succession in Syria and guarantee the stability of the regime. But when it comes down to it, a senior source in Washington told The Report, the question will be less whether Bashar is up to the role as whether he will be acceptable to the older generation of Alawis. They must believe that Bashar is capable of keeping them in power and protecting their interests. "If not," the source said, "they could go for someone else." Despite Rifaat's apparent unpopularity in Syria, his name still crops up as a possible alternative waiting in the wings.
The American administration does believe, however, that if Asad pulls off a deal with Israel that is widely accepted in Syria, that, in itself, will ease Bashar's way. And Asad appears to have adopted that position.
Seale takes pains to dispel the notion that Bashar's succession is a foregone conclusion. "He has not been nominated as Asad's official successor. He's a colonel in the People's Guard and an aide to the president, an extension of the presidency. Asad is not ready to hand over to anyone," says Seale, "even his son." For now, he adds, Asad is encouraging Bashar and testing him to see whether he has "the gift of leadership."
It's no secret that Bashar wasn't his father's first choice to succeed him. An older son, Bassil, a military man of action, was being groomed for the role when he died in a car crash in 1994. Bashar, who had studied medicine at Damascus University and was completing a two-year internship in opthalmology in London at the time, was promptly recalled to Damascus and put through military training.
Bashar has since been placed in charge of the weighty Lebanon file. He has many friends in Beirut and is rumored to be engaged to the daughter of a Lebanese minister. He has gained a reputation in the Lebanese capital as a serious and polite man with a high degree of integrity. He is also said to be eager to introduce new technologies into Syria. As head of the Internet Society, he launched the medium at home two years ago.
But Bashar is known in Beirut first and foremost for his anti-corruption crusade, which has apparently put him at loggerheads with some immediate members of his family, such as his Uncle Jamil (Asad's third brother) and his sons. It has been reported that some 28 general directors of public bodies have recently been fired in Syria in a bid to revitalize the aged, corruption-ridden administration.
Bashar is thought to be keenly aware that his holy war against corruption will not go down well with the Alawi pillars of the regime - which is why, like his father, he is moving slowly and with extreme caution.
Seale, who doesn't know Bashar personally, speaks of him as very much a technocrat and a champion of modernization, economic reform and computer technology. "He appeals to the younger generation that wants to see Syria opened up to the world," says Seale, adding: "He's pure, upright and he has a different vision of Syria."
PRESIDENT ASAD HAS BEEN THE SUPERGLUE that has held Syria together for three decades. It will be in the interests of the Syrian powers-that-be, say the experts, to ensure a continuation of the Alawi-Sunni alliance that proved itself over the years. If what already appears to be the beginnings of Alawi infighting were to get out of hand, they note, the whole structure could come crashing down.
And so, the experts say, logic dictates that those in power will do all they can to protect their own interests and the country's stability by sticking together and, when the time comes, ensuring a smooth transition into the post-Asad era.
But even then, few would expect Syria to suddenly fling open its arms to the world. Compared to his father, Bashar may be very modern. But some observers suggest that the younger Asad's worldliness has been somewhat overstated. After all, Zisser points out, he's spent 32 of his 34 years in Syria. And while he may represent a kinder and gentler future Syria - that will also be more understanding to the West - caution seems to be a family trait. The Asads aren't about to apply for Syrian membership in the global village just yet.
With reporting by Joseph Matar in Beirut, Eric Silver and Leslie Susser
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© The Jerusalem Report 1999-2000 |  |