In the Lion's Den

by Andrew Tabler

  When someone asked me how to describe the political situation in Syria, I simply called it “the blackness.” Using the term “fog” would have been out of the question, as fog tends to move or dissipate. The blackness just stayed in place, but it was not without its own dynamics. Rumors of gunfights between rival security services and stories of the house arrest of Vice President Khaddam were indications of the struggle going on inside this black cloud. It was as if suddenly a giant black hand had reached out of the morass and swooped back in, doubtlessly grabbing for some unknown rival obscured in the cloud.

  In addition to the opposition’s being able to coordinate their activities, security restrictions were also relaxed. This included permitting everything from the establishment of factories, restaurants, shops, and medical practices to allowing embassy staff to visit their citizens in jail or make inquiries about missing nationals in Syria.

  The prospects for reform were another matter. In May 2005, for example, Nibras al-Fadel, a special adviser to President Assad on financial affairs, resigned unexpectedly following an interview he gave with the newspaper Al-Sharq al-Awsat, in which he outlined the judicial and market reforms necessary for the Syrian economy to avert economic crisis in the near future.12

  Syrians close to the regime didn’t give up hope. One rumor said that the political system would be opened up to allow for independent political parties and that Law 49 of 1980, which made membership in the Muslim Brotherhood punishable by death, would be repealed. Another said that the conference would conclude with a recommendation by the party that Article 8 of the constitution would be amended or repealed. Yet another said that two hundred thousand Kurds without citizenship in Syria, based on the census taken in 1962, would be granted full rights. Some even said that the Baath Party would change its name or even dissolve itself.

  But as the conference approached, things didn’t look good. In presummit working committees, those advocating substantial changes to the party—concerning democracy or socialism—were marginalized and their ideas shunned. This especially concerned those wanting to abolish Article 8 of the constitution. The buds of the Jasmine Revolution seemed to have withered before bloom.

  When my mobile phone rang at 6:40 AM on June 6, I awoke with the realization that the day had finally arrived—the opening of the Tenth Party Conference of the Syrian Baath Party regional command.

  “We are just waiting around outside the Ministry of Information for our badges,” Hugh told me in an exasperated voice. “There is no schedule, and no one knows if we will have access to the conference center. It’s chaos.”

  I was hardly surprised. In fact, I had purposely ignored the Ministry of Information’s instructions to arrive in front of Dar al-Baath, the ministry building, before boarding buses out to the conference. It was not out of laziness but rather based on my experience covering official Syrian events. About a month before, for example, I attended the official visit of Turkish president Ahmet Necdet Sezer to Syria. Arriving at 8 AM as instructed and in a full suit, I waited with the rest of Syria’s press corps for two hours for Ministry of Information officials to show up. When they finally arrived, we were simply told a bus would take us to the presidential palace for the arrival ceremony. No schedule was available. We were also told we would be unable to leave the palace until the talks were over. I spent the next nine hours of my life sitting in the hot sun, getting a fabulous tan from the neck up. The wait was punctuated only by a brief press conference with the two leaders; they did not allow questions to be asked.

  The wake-up call on June 6, and its message, would characterize my attempts to understand the Baath Party conference, its decisions, and the potential for an authoritarian party to reform itself under increasing foreign pressure.

  Returning from my morning workout at the Unity Club, a Baathist sports complex in Damascus, I received another call from Hugh at 8:30 AM.

  “There are no badges after all,” Hugh said. “We are now sitting on buses that are supposedly going to take us to the conference’s media center. The ministry people are not even sure we will have access to the center for Bashar’s opening speech. It’s a pretty grim scene.”

  I knew from Hugh’s words and subsequent phone calls from a host of other foreign journalists who had turned up in Damascus for the conference that the regime did not want the conference and its proceedings to be understood by the Syrian or international community. It was an old trick that the regime had pulled time and time again: allow journalists to come into the country, greet them kindly at the Ministry of Information, and send them back to their five-star hotels without any clue about the basics—most notably anything resembling a schedule. That’s exactly what happened. Finishing my morning coffee, I began to receive more telephone calls from correspondents who had freshly arrived in the country. Like Hugh, they had made the journey out to the conference center with the hope of attending and listening in on President Assad’s remarks. Instead, they were herded into a “media center” about two kilometers away—the new Damascus Exhibition Center. The “center” was in fact a room with some chairs and three computers hooked up to a 128K ADSL Internet connection with stand-alone printers. A number of TVs broadcasting Syrian programs were blaring. No food, water, coffee, or tea was available. All this was somehow supposed to sustain about three hundred Arab and foreign correspondents for four days.

  When word got out that only cameramen would have access to the opening session, the army of correspondents poured out of the media center and boarded buses back to Damascus. All were disillusioned. As one Arab correspondent told me, “How can I write a story running up to the conference when I know nothing about it?”

  I left my house at 9 AM for the short walk to the Syria Today offices in the Damascus Free Zone, an area behind the customs house in Damascus where nominally export-oriented businesses escaped Syria’s convoluted taxes and tariffs. Upon arrival, I was greeted by Othaina Sahara, a new Syria Today staff member who also worked for the state-owned Syria Times. “The Ministry of Information says the opening speech will begin at noon. Let’s turn on the television and see if there is any news,” Othaina said in his usual cheerful voice.

  News bulletins on Syria’s satellite news channel about the upcoming conference raced across the screen. Listening carefully, I discovered that the opening speech would be aired in only fifteen minutes, at 10 AM. A few minutes later, Hugh and a correspondent for the Los Angeles Times arrived, looking haggard.

  The time had finally come. We all piled into the office meeting room, readying notebooks and tape recorders for Assad’s speech. As Hugh described the appalling inadequacy of the media center, a TV commercial for a local brand of cheese was suddenly blacked out. A few seconds later, a video graphic of Baathist and Syrian flags appeared, complete with triumphal music blaring in the background.

  Coverage then cut to a smiling and waving President Assad strolling down the stairway of the Ebla Cham Conference Center. As he took his position at the main podium, everyone in the Syria Today office settled into their chairs and got ready for perhaps the most anticipated speech of Bashar al-Assad’s presidency—we all hoped that the big reforms that had been anticipated for five years were finally at hand.

  Assad began by praising the role of the Baath Party in Syrian life and the concerted efforts the different working committees had made running up to the conference. “The Baath Party remains a vanguard force in the life of our people and our country,” Assad said. “Some of the writings and proposals that preceded the congress caught my attention…. Whether or not we agree with some of these propositions, and whether they take an upbeat approach to the party or not, and whether they are appreciative or critical of the party, they go to show that the Baath Party is a popular force, central to Syrian life.”

  Given the fact that reformers had not won in elections of the working committees, I immediately assumed that Assad in fact had opposed some of the more radical reform suggestions concerning changing the constitution. I moved
closer to the TV set, making sure I heard every word. Perhaps Assad was going to break free and set a new course for the party himself.

  It was wasted effort. Assad surprisingly began his speech with a critique of the communications and IT revolution:

  [This] revolution has made room for theories and projects, as well as lifestyles that have overwhelmed Arabs and threatened their existence and cultural identity, and has increased doubts and skepticism in the minds of young Arabs. The forces behind these events have created an illusionary virtual reality that inspires our feelings in a way that drives us in a direction identified by others…. This leads in the end to the cultural, political, and moral collapse of the Arab individual and his ultimate defeat, even without a fight.

  Strange words from a president who has been hailed as the father of Syria’s IT revolution for the past five years.

  The speech then went from bad to worse. Assad continued the state’s mantra that economic reform in the country was progressing but was simply hamstrung by personnel problems. According to Assad, there was nothing wrong with the Baath Party or its ideology—rather, “individuals” were responsible for its failings. A new initiative to combat the country’s rampant corruption problems was then given lip service by the president.

  In conclusion, the president seemed to fire a warning shot over the heads of those who might cooperate with the United States in its efforts to promote “reform” in the region.

  I call upon you to exercise your role in a courageous and responsible manner by pointing out both our limitations and our achievements, by addressing the shortcomings we suffer from as well as the successes we enjoy, and by being as honest as possible in your discussions and proposals about the concerns and aspirations of the public, bearing in mind that every decision you take and every recommendation you make should express only our internal needs, regardless of any consideration which aims at pushing us in directions which harm our national interests and threaten our stability.

  Much more interesting than the speech was what was going on around me in the Syria Today meeting room. Hugh and the Los Angeles Times correspondent understood less Arabic, so they relied on the translation services of Syrians in the room. As the speech continued, a sort of struggle emerged between Hugh and the Syrians present that spoke volumes about the speech’s content. One of them began translating the speech word for word, which Hugh and the Times correspondent wrote down studiously. After only a few moments, they stopped their attempt at simultaneous translation and went silent, switching to summaries of a few words following what seemed like each of the speech’s main sections.

  “Why aren’t you translating?” Hugh asked, visibly annoyed. “This is a major address by the president.”

  The Syrians did not immediately answer, continuing their brief summaries. At a certain point, one staff member stopped and looked at another staff member, who in turn began translating word for word. After a few moments, another Syrian began to summarize as well. Hugh, even more annoyed, asked both of them why they were not simultaneously translating the speech.

  “There is nothing of substance to translate,” one of them said, clearly disappointed. “There is nothing.”

  Assad’s address was followed by speeches from the heads of each of the parties of the National Progressive Front (NPF), the body of ten loyalist “opposition” parties formed in 1972 under the umbrella of the Baath Party. As each leader delivered their speech, praising the Baath Party and its role in society, we speculated on the outcome of the conference.

  “There is not going to be much,” I said. “Political reform will be limited, outside pressures do not affect internal reforms, and individuals are the problem and not the Baath Party. He didn’t even mention trade.”

  “See?” one of the staff said. “Nothing.”

  That evening, I invited a group of correspondents to dinner at the Damascus Journalists’ Club, an institution sponsored and supported by the Journalists’ Syndicate of the Baath Party. It is a place with cheap beers, good mezze (oriental salads), and grilled meat and chicken—the staple main course in Damascus. Sitting around the table were three correspondents from the New York Times and one each from The Economist, the Christian Science Monitor, the Associated Press, and Reuters.

  After only one day of covering the conference, all were at a loss as to what kinds of stories they would be able to write with such little information. They had filed stories that day, outlining Assad’s speech but describing it as falling short of expectations.

  Throwing back whiskeys and Barada beer (Syria’s staple brew, which is reminiscent of weissbier, or wheat beer), the group shared their frustration about not understanding exactly what the conference was all about. A few hours and many more drinks later, we decided to head home. The bill for food and drink for eight people came to a whopping one thousand Syrian pounds (nineteen US dollars)—while we might not have understood the Baath Party, we sure enjoyed some of its subsidies.

  I awoke at 7 AM the following morning, June 7, wondering how we would be informed of what was going on in the conference’s different working committees. I hurried to my desk and tried to connect to the Internet about a dozen times before it finally hooked up. I visited the website of the state information service, Syrian Arab News Agency (SANA)—born during Syria’s Soviet-leaning Cold War years—in search of news on what to expect. Only an English-language translation of Assad’s speech was available. I made a few early morning phone calls to Arab journalist friends who might have information on press conferences and possible conference-access times. Not a single one answered. Not a good sign, I thought.

  I then tuned into Syria’s satellite TV station. The 9 AM newscast talked extensively about the president’s “important and historic” speech, with numerous snippets from the address. The newscaster simply said that the various working committees would begin their deliberations that day. No mention of press conferences. I turned to BBC World Service, hoping to find out what was going on elsewhere in the world. Suddenly I saw a still of Syrian vice president Abdel Halim Khaddam, under which appeared a box reading RESIGNATION. That got my attention. The BBC gave no details, only reporting that Khaddam had resigned from “all party and government affairs.”

  After a brisk walk to the Syria Today offices, I was greeted at the door by Othaina.

  “Khaddam resigned,” I said.

  “Really?” Othaina answered. “There’s nothing in the Syrian media about it. But remember, all members of the regional command resign on the first day of the conference. Maybe it’s just a rumor and he’s staying.”

  I checked the website of the newspaper Al Hayat for details. Ibrahim Hamidi reported that Khaddam had indeed resigned on the first day of the conference.

  “Some people were saying yesterday there will be a 2:30 PM and 9:30 PM press conference each day,” Othaina said. “Maybe we will get some details then. Bouthaina Shaaban will apparently head each one.”

  Perhaps more than any other person, Bouthaina Shaaban was the best-known international spokesperson for the Syrian regime. A former translator for late president Hafez al-Assad, Shaaban was a member of Syria’s ruling Alawi sect. With a doctorate from the University of Exeter, complete with a Fulbright fellowship, Shaaban had a friendly but proud manner that made her the favorite of international journalists around the time of the US invasion of Iraq in March 2003. As the spokesperson for the Syrian Ministry of Foreign Affairs at the time, Shaaban landed telephone interviews on CNN, the BBC, and other major English-language news services due to her excellent English and ties to the regime.

  Following a rumored fallout with foreign minister Farouk al-Shara, Shaaban was “kicked upstairs” by the president and made the country’s first “minister of expatriates.” She was charged with bringing talented Syrians back to their homeland, and her ministry building was set up in the Damascus satellite city of Dummar, about a thirty-minute trip from the center of the capital. She has been traveling the world ever since, the human face for
Syria’s estimated fifteen million diaspora community.

  In the world of Baath Party politics, however, Shaaban still carried weight as a member of the party’s fifty-member central committee—the body immediately under the party’s ruling “regional command” (“regional” in this case meaning Syria, since Baathist pan-Arab ideology considers Syria only a “region” of the “Arab nation”). Given her experience and position, it was no surprise to me that Shaaban was appointed as the party’s official spokeswoman for the conference.

  I called the public relations office of the Ministry of Information for clarification of the press-conference times. The office assistant confirmed the rumor about the times for the conferences. After I hung up, I looked at Othaina.

  “Now we wait,” I said.

  And we did just that. As the morning dragged on, I combed newspapers in search of details about Khaddam’s resignation and information on the conference agenda. The three state-owned daily newspapers carried only excerpts of the president’s speech, along with a full spread of photos. No other information was available, other than the names of the four working committees.

  Around 2:30 PM, I switched on the TV and tuned into the Syrian satellite channel. The transmission quickly cut to reporters greeting Shaaban as she sat down at the head table. She’s on the short side, so the forty or so microphones positioned in front of her nearly eclipsed her face. Speaking in Arabic, Shaaban outlined some of the points from the president’s speech the previous day. She also informed the audience that the president had ordered that some of the proceedings of the working committees would be broadcast on national TV stations. When one Syrian journalist asked which committees would be broadcast and when, Shaaban simply replied, “It will be announced.”