Hello, Damascus! The Boys Are Back

By Sami Moubayed

On June 16, while driving in downtown Damascus on Shukri al-Kuwatly Boulevard—between the famed Damascus International Fair on one side and the Officers Club on the other—I witnessed a most extraordinary sight. A truckload of Syrian troops, just in from Beirut, was making its entry into the Syrian capital, ending 10 years of an under-appreciated and overstayed welcome in Lebanon.

Having lived all my life between Beirut and Damascus, I knew how Syrian troops usually looked—shabby, tired and, ultimately, unhappy. These boys, however, were different, and I could tell it from their eyes. Rowdy and with gleaming faces, the soldiers were clapping their hands and stomping their feet, singing patriotic songs, and performing the traditional aradah, a Damascene parade usually acted out in weddings. Passing cars hailed the soldiers as they drove by, while pedestrians waved from a distance, welcoming the boys back home. From the Officers Club, young troops on duty fired their rifles, celebrating the return of their comrades. For the first time in many years, Syrian troops were returning home from a foreign excursion in triumph.

Over the past 50 years, the Syrian army has been involved in seven “distant operations”: the Arab-Israeli wars of 1948, 1956, 1967 and 1973, the Jordanian Black September fiasco of 1970, the 1991 Gulf war, and, eventually, the Lebanese civil war which broke out in 1975. With the exception of the last two engagements, all the missions ended in defeat.

Syria has been immersed in the Lebanese conflict for the past 26 years, first siding with the Maronites against the PLO. Damascus then shifted its allegiance to the Sunni-PLO orbit fighting the 1982 Israeli invasion, the Lebanese Forces of Maronite Samir Geagea and, ultimately, the troops of Geagea’s co-religionist Michel Aoun in 1988. In 1990 Syria crowned its Lebanese interlude with victory, ousting Aoun, restoring peace and ending 15 years of bloodshed.

Following Syria’s participation in Desert Storm, U.S. President George Bush rewarded President Hafez Al-Assad with a hands-off policy toward the Syrian presence in Lebanon, in effect giving Assad free reign over his neighbor—a prized possession that was to prove Assad’s greatest trophy in 30 years of rule.

President Assad proceeded to rule Lebanon for 10 years with an unmatched combination of skill, diplomacy, and style. Legitimizing the presence of 35,000 Syrian troops on Lebanese soil, Assad claimed that they were needed to protect Lebanon against Israeli attacks, and would remain on alert as long as Israeli troops occupied southern Lebanon. According to the 1991 Taif Accord, these troops were to have been deployed in Beirut until 1992, when they gradually would be withdrawn from the capital and deployed in the Bekaa Valley. To the dismay of the Lebanese, however, this clause was not enforced and, 10 years following the accord, Syrian troops remained in Beirut, as powerful as ever—although less visible than during the immediate post-war era.

Despite murmurs in Lebanon in favor of redeployment, no one dared speak his opinion frankly, for fear of persecution. The general consensus in Syria, however, supported Assad’s interlude in Lebanon. Even prominent “opposition” elements backed Assad’s stance on Lebanon, and advocated that conditions remain as they were.

Last year, however, things began falling apart. The Israelis withdrew from southern Lebanon in May 2000, and Hafez Al-Assad died in June—eliminating the two primary factors underlying Syria’s paramount influence and power. Overnight, voices were raised in Lebanon demanding that Syria end its troop presence in Lebanon and cease interfering in Lebanese decision-making. Pressure on Syria to withdraw was growing so quickly that, within a year, it was clear that something had to be done.

Re-establishing contacts with Lebanese politicians opposed to Syrian influence, Damascus attempted to reach a diplomatic solution to the crisis. On June 14, President Bashar Al-Assad ordered a contingent of Syrian forces in Beirut to pack their bags, relinquish their posts and head back, either to the Bekaa Valley, as called for in the Taif Accord, or all the way to Damascus. Within four days, the evacuation was complete. Twelve major bases were back under Lebanese army control, and 3,000 Syrian troops were heading back home.

At a Sunday sermon three days later, Maronite Patriarch Mar Nasrallah Boutros Sfeir, leader of the anti-Syrian movement, said, “I hope that officials in Lebanon and Syria will follow up on this step to reach a point that guarantees the interests of both countries, and establishes friendly relations which allow dignity for both.” This cannot be achieved, he added, “ unless both parties are independent, have full sovereignty and freedom of decision.”

Syrians reacted passively to news of the withdrawal, in the belief that redeployment would, in fact, change nothing in Syrian-Lebanese relations, nor ultimately affect Syria’s national interests in Lebanon—so long as decision-makers in Beirut are “friends of Syria.”

At the end of the day, Syrians understood that, although some posts had been evacuated, the Syrian army still occupies many areas throughout the country. Although Lebanon’s Defense Ministry in Yarzeh, the Presidential Palace at Baabda, the Ramlet al-Baida base and the Marriott Hotel surroundings were officially evacuated, a Syrian checkpoint still remains in the sleepy town of Chtaura, next to a colossal Lebanese-built statue of Basil Al-Assad, Hafez Al-Assad’s eldest son and heir apparent who died in a 1994 car crash. Another Syrian post could be found in West Beirut’s Ain al-Mreisseh district, as could an intelligence office in the Hamra commercial district and a military base at the Bain Militaire, guarding the Lebanese Officers Club on Beirut’s Rawsheh coastline. Syria also continues to control a strategic military checkpoint once occupied by the PLO on the Beirut International Airport road. Finally, in the eastern town of Anjar can be found a Syrian military office occupied by the commander of the Syrian army in Lebanon, the ever-present Gen. Ghazi Kanaan.

Locals in Syria also argued that this was not the first time Syrian troops had been redeployed, recalling that in 1982, during the Israeli siege of Beirut, then-Gen. Ariel Sharon had declared that the Syrian army was leaving Lebanon for good. Two weeks later, however, to the surprise of many, it was the Israelis who were out—and two years later the Syrians were back in Beirut, as powerful and comfortable as ever. Sending a message to the “enemies of Syria,” General Kanaan took to jogging down the Rawsheh coastline at dawn with no bodyguards, demonstrating that the area was secure and again under his control.

Back in Damascus in mid-June of this year, locals welcomed home the returning troops with pride, pitying a group of men whose 10-year stay in Lebanon, the cause of so much uproar, had been confined to barracks and machine guns. They knew nothing about a country often described as the “Switzerland of the East.”

“While driving back from Beirut to Damascus,” one Syrian observed, “there was a minimum of 20 Syrian military trucks, packed with soldiers, stuck on the Dahr al-Baydar highway. Going uphill, the vehicles, outdated and rusty from lack of use, had broken down and ceased to operate, and you could see this all along the way, with Syrian trucks scattered in a helpless state. Interestingly enough, one of them, in dire condition, with no headlights and breaking apart on both sides, had a slogan written across it saying: ‘We will not stop until reaching Jerusalem.’ Poor soldiers, they couldn’t even make it to Damascus.”

“Will anything change?” is a question asked often today in Beiruti and Damascene circles. The most likely answer is “No. Redeployment means nothing but adherence to the Taif Accord.”

A New Generation

What should change, however, is the attitude developing among the new generation of both countries. The older generation of Syrians and Lebanese is closely knit, linked by intermarriage, traditions, and a common, if not identical, sociopolitical and economic background. It is hard to find one family in Beirut that is not somehow linked to Syria—and vice versa. This pre-war generation lives on its memories, remembering that, although there is friction today, there were good and happy times spent with their “Syrian brothers.” This generation retains good memories of Syria, of a relationship based on equality, and of distant weekends spent cheaply yet luxuriously in Damascus with relatives, co-workers, or friends.

A new generation of Lebanese has emerged, however, with nothing but memories of war, bloodshed and Syrian military checkpoints. They carry nothing but bitterness in their hearts toward Syria—a sentiment that will take at least another generation to subside. Likewise, their Syrian counterparts have developed a superior attitude toward their neighbors, believing that, simply because of the Syrian troop presence in Lebanon, Beirut is little more than Syria’s big back yard. In addition, young Syrians have come to believe that the relationship with Lebanon is based solely on force. They take it for granted that all Lebanese hate Syrians and are bound to destroy them unless they strike first.

Official and familial attempts to change both attitudes have been in vain. As a Lebanese youth once explained, “The Syrians conduct a ballet show in Beiteddine, and under the instigation of my grandparents, who are sentimentally attached to Syria, I am encouraged to go see the rich culture and artistic abilities that the Syrians have to show us. As promised, the show is magnificent, and I leave thinking, ‘The Syrians are in fact creative and rich in culture, and I must learn more about them.’

“On my way out, while driving back from Beirut, I am stopped at a Syrian checkpoint, where a soldier speaks to me roughly and snatches my papers rudely, skims through them in a suspicious manner, then points his rifle at me, ordering me to move on. That upsets everything, and believe me, it will take many, many ballet shows to get me to forget that.”

One cannot but sympathize with the Lebanese case as being just and acceptable. At the same time, while acknowledging that, at one point, the Syrian army wronged the people of Lebanon, one cannot forget that, at another time, Syria sent its soldiers into harm’s way and helped end Lebanon’s devastating and bloody civil war.

Although Syrians may feel that their neighbors have not adequately expressed their gratitude, Lebanon’s civil war has been over for 10 years now, and no debt of gratitude should be held longer than that. Both countries must devise a mutually beneficial relationship, and begin to address the conditions of their people at home.

Syria is in shambles, economically devastated, with people hovering on the edge of hunger, poverty and sanity itself. In Lebanon, behind the dazzling lights of the Kaslik and Ashrafieh, one can find widespread hunger, ignorance and despair. As a friend who works in Beirut’s public health awareness program said, “When one sees all the ignorance that people are living through, and all the misery that surrounds them, he or she will find that there are so many things more important than whether the Syrians are here or not. Seeing a handicapped and penniless man or an ignorant mother catering for a sick child makes you wonder—is it really important who wins the parliamentary elections, or who speaks out in favor of or against Syria? Once the domestic conditions of Lebanon are fixed, it will be time to deal with the issue of Syria. Ignorance and poverty are the true enemies of Lebanon.”

Sami Moubayed is a Syrian political analyst.