by Adel Beshara
The assassination of Riad Solh is another factor worthy of consideration. Solh’s death in that year has been judged as the single biggest blow to Khoury and the factor that precipitated the downfall of his regime.39 As Wade R. Goria has succinctly put it, “While Solh lived, and continued to maintain tolerable relations with Khouri, the President’s position vis-a-vis the opposition remained tenable. Solh’s death undermined Khouri’s position completely.”40 Michael Hudson presents a similar view:
. . . the President might well have served out his second term – in spite of the domestic corruption, the Palestine problem, and the radicalization of politics – had he been able to maintain his alliance with Riad Sulh. Their separation and then Sulh’s assassination in July 1951 eroded Khoury’s support among the Sunnite masses.41
Solh’s assassination deprived the administration of the only leader to whom most Lebanese Muslims – especially Sunnis – could gravitate. His death also robbed Khoury of a powerful statesman whose enormous influence in the Chamber of Deputies and political skills had been an important pillar of strength and a source of stability for the regime.
Finally, the SSNP contributed to Khoury’s downfall through its participation in the National Socialist Front (NSF). Formed after the general election of 1951, the NSF was a loose coalition of various groups and politicians disillusioned by Khoury’s presidency. In the summer of 1952, after a series of cabinet crisis which culminated in the resignation of the Prime Minister, Sami Sulh,42 the Front organized a country-wide two-day general strike against the President after he refused to step down despite the growing opposition to his presidency. It was at the height of this strike that Khoury finally tendered his resignation.
The SSNP was represented in the NSF by Ghassan Tueini, a long-time member of the party and editor-in-chief of the well-known daily newspaper, an-Nahar.43 He was elected to the Chamber of Deputies in the parliamentary elections of 1951 along with Pierre Emile Edde,44 who also won his seat in the district of al-Matn with the support of the SSNP.45 Through Tueini, the SSNP was able to participate in the regular meetings of the National Socialist Front and contribute to its program.46 The heavy turnout of supporters that the party achieved at a mass rally organized by the NSF at Dayr al-Qamar in 1952 highlighted its influence still further. Mustafa Abd al-Satir describes in his Ayyam wa Qadiyya the atmosphere at the rally as follows:47
The government and public opinion were stunned by the rebirth of the party which they thought had ended with Sa’adeh. This revival revealed itself in a huge party gathering at the western entrance of Dayr al-Qamar which then marched in serried ranks that totalled thousands like an irresistible flood until it submerged the festival square after filling the streets and the other squares of the town. This demonstration of strength gave considerable impetus to the organizers of the rally and in fact dealt the final blow to President Khoury’s will to fight on . . .48
Even if the actions of the SSNP did not decisively precipitate the downfall of the Khoury regime, they clearly contributed to it and accelerated it. When the president finally bowed out, the party greeted the end of his rule with a sense of relief and renewed optimism. The SSNP never gave up hope of returning to Lebanon, but its chances were slender as long as Khoury and Solh were in charge.49 During the parliamentary election of 1951, the President tried to win its favour, but failed.50 Its assassination of Riad Solh six months later, despite his rift with the President, ruled out any further contact between them.
The Impact on Syria
Sa’adeh’s betrayal and subsequent execution at the hands of the Khoury regime is generally considered to be among the contributing factors to Zaim’s blood-spattered downfall in August 1949. Planned well and convincingly executed, the handover dangerously weakened Zaim’s standing with many of his supporters and with other Arab governments and gave his opponents a powerful new reason to oust him. He was disparaged as a sell-out, a betrayer of the nation, not only for the crudeness of his treachery but also for the callousness with which he excused and justified his action.
Zaim attempted to dodge the treachery charge by claiming that Sa’adeh was arrested on Lebanese soil during the rebellion. A public statement issued by the press office of the Syrian government on 11 July stated that Sa’adeh was not handed over to Lebanon, but was arrested by the Lebanese authorities while circulating along the border between the two countries, and was apprehended in Lebanese territory. As an extra precaution, Zaim ordered the local Syrian press to publish only the official version of events and pressured the Lebanese government into backing his account. The Lebanese leadership acquiesced because it was part of the deal for Sa’adeh’s surrender. But the Lebanese press got wind of the deal and published the story as it really happened:
True to their agreement, the Lebanese authorities announced that Sa’adeh had been arrested on the Lebanese side of the Syrian frontier, indicating that he had been caught escaping from Lebanon. But the censorship in Damascus fumbled and some papers there published the news that he had been arrested inside Syria, and one or two Lebanese papers, ignoring censorship, published the news of his arrest in Damascus.51
Diplomatic fumbling from the Lebanese side may have also inadvertently contributed to the embarrassment, probably to humiliate Zaim:
A few hours too late the Lebanese reacted with an inspired report that the Damascus arrest stories were mistaken. By that time, however, the chief of police had talked personally to foreign correspondents – off the record – and boasted of his exploit. Riad es-Solh had also told his intimates, who told everybody, and even Marshal Zayim does not seem to have realized how important it was to keep the matter secret.52
News of Sa’adeh’s betrayal quickly damaged Zaim’s reputation and intensified the feeling on all sides that he could not be trusted. It shattered every Arab idea of honor: “Even among those who had no use for Saadeh, Zaim was considered to have violated the traditions of Arab hospitality by betraying his guest who had sought the safety of his house – something not taken lightly by a people who are immensely proud of their record in that respect.”53 As disgust mounted, his closest confidants began to desert him, including his brother-in-law and first secretary, Nadhir Fansa: “From the moment Zaim surrendered Sa’adeh I began to distance myself from him, and his regime began to live out its final weeks.”54
Sa’adeh’s betrayal also precipitated Zaim’s downfall by alienating a group of army officers who might have supported him in a counteraction against an attempted coup. The SNP commanded strong support in the Syrian officer corps, including well-known figures like Salah Jadid, Fadhlallah Abu Mansour, and Captain Adib Shishakli, who became a President of Syria in 1953. These officers joined the growing rank of disgruntled military men offended by Zaim’s extravagance and arbitrary promotion of officers loyal to him personally.55 Once a safety valve for the regime, they became a heavy and dangerous burden on it. And so, when the moment to depose Zaim finally came in a pre-dawn coup, they became its spearhead with one purpose in mind: to avenge Sa’adeh’s betrayal.
The main core of conspirators that would overthrow Zaim consisted of Colonel Sami al-Hinnawi; Captain Khalid Jada, Hinnawi’s aide and bodyguard; Captain Islam Mraywad, an Iraqi who had become a pilot in the Syrian Air Force; Captain Muhammad Ma’ruf; Captain Muhammed Diyab; As’ad Talas, Hinnawi’s brother-in-law and the liaison between the army officers and politicians during the preparation and execution of the coup, and First Lieutenant Fadhlallah Abu Mansour, who was an active member of the SNP and commander-in-charge of the armored car company in the First Brigade which was to furnish the troops to be used in the coup. Angry at the betrayal of Saadeh, and believing that he and Amin Abu Assaf were on the list for dismissal from the army, Abu Mansour decided to assassinate Husni az-Zaim even before the idea of a coup was raised. The occasion he selected for that was a tour of the front by Zaim with some Tunisian guests. He placed his weapon, ammunition, and several days’ supply of fuel and provisions into his jeep, and followed Zaim’s
party from Ayn Ziwan, where they had reviewed the army, to Jisr Banat Yakoub, where al-Hinnawi’s command post was located. When Zaim went forward to inspect the front line position, Abu Mansour stopped his jeep by the side of the road and waited for Zaim’s return to the command post where he could kill him and have a good chance of escaping afterwards. But Alam ad-Din Qawwas, al-Hinnawi’s second-in-command, spotted the lurking officer and foiled the operation by impounding him long enough for Zaim to depart for Damascus with his guests.
Shortly after that incident, the First Armored Battalion was ordered to move to Suwayda, capital city of Jebel ad-Duruz. Amin Abu Assaf and Fadhlallah Abu Mansour construed this to be the first step in their liquidation. They believed that Major Husni Jarras, the commanding officer of the Jebel ad-Duruz military area and a loyal supporter of Zaim, would take command of the battalion from them once they reached the mountain; and that they would then be issued orders to report to Damascus. When the battalion reached Sheikh Miskin, Abu Mansour halted the armored car company and ordered it to rest. After consulting with Abu Assaf, he decided to delay their march until they could determine whether conditions in the capital were reasonably favorable for the immediate execution of a military coup. The key factor for them, and for the other conspirators, was that Zaim would be at home, for then he could be quickly located and taken into custody before mobilizing his loyal forces.
In order to further delay the movement of the armored unit to Jebel ad-Duruz, Hinnawi issued orders for it to move to Antara under a concocted military pretext. Pursuant to those orders, the move was made the following day, placing the battalion in the same town which had served as the staging area and headquarters for Zaim’s coup. A week later, at 11 o’clock at night on 13 August, the conspirators decided on the final details of the coup d’etat which had been set for that very night. Specific missions were assigned at one o’clock in the morning. The key mission – that of the arrest of the President of the Republic, Husni az-Zaim – was entrusted to his would-be assassin of a short time before, Lieutenant Fadlallah Abu Mansour. For the accomplishment of his task, he was given the command of a force of six armored cars and sixty truck-mounted infantry. All other missions were to be held back until it was seen whether Abu Mansour had succeeded.
The column reached the outskirts of Damascus at 01.45 hours on the morning of 14 August when it stopped for last minute coordination. Sami al-Hinnawi gave Abu Mansour his final pep talk and informed him that the headquarters would wait there until his mission had been completed and the remainder of the operation was thus assured success. Abu Mansour led his force through the streets of Damascus until he reached Abu Rammaneh Street, in which Zaim’s residence was located. In order to not alert the guards, the march was then slowed and noise was reduced to a minimum. When the palace was reached, after its guards were arrested and disarmed, the soldiers and armored cars were positioned at the main entrances and around the palace wall. Abu Mansour then pounded on the door of the palace. No response. He pounded again and again until lights finally appeared in the second floor living quarters of Husni az-Zaim, and the President appeared on his balcony. “What is this?”; “Who’s there?”; “What’s going on?”, he screamed. “Surrender immediately,” Abu Mansour ordered him, “or I’ll destroy this castle on your head.”
Zaim retreated into the palace, hastened by a burst from Abu Mansour’s submachine gun. Abu Mansour then demolished the lock of the door with another burst from his submachine gun and entered the palace. Zaim was descending the stairs. He had had time only to pull on his military trousers and shoes. When Zaim reached ground-level, Abu Mansour approached him and slapped him viciously with a blow that echoed through the palace. “Don’t hit me, mister,” protested Zaim. “It’s not proper. Have some respect for my military dignity!” Abu Mansour answered him rudely, his trembling voice betraying the nervousness which had prompted the blow; “I am the first to respect military dignity. I believe in it, I sanctify it and I would spill my blood for its sake; but there is no dignity nor honor to one such as you. Didn’t you swear on an oath of loyalty to the Leader Saadeh, present your pistol to him as a pledge of your loyalty and then betray him, sending him to his death in violation of your oath?”
“I tell you I’m innocent, son. I was accused of that, but I’m innocent.”
“Come on, let’s go. There’s no time for talk.”
Abu Mansour then shoved Zaim in an armored vehicle and raced toward the rendezvous point, where Hinnawi was supposedly waiting, flanked by an armed jeep and a motorcycle. On the way, Zaim tried to weasel himself out of his predicament.
“Fahlallah,” he said, “I’m in your hands. I have 80,000 Syrian pounds. Take 60,000 of them for yourself, distribute the other 20,000 among your soldiers, and let me go. Let me get out of the country.”
“From where did you get all this wealth?” asked Abu Mansour. “Didn’t you say that you entered the government poor and would leave it poor?56 How did your poverty turn into wealth?”
“I tell you, son” said Zaim, “that I’m innocent. This is a British plot against me and aims at the undermining of the independence of the country.”
“Don’t worry about the independence of the country,” he was told. “We covet it eagerly and know how to preserve it from any harm.”
Turning his attention to the four soldiers who were in the armored car in an attempt to enlist their aid, Zaim said: “I swear that I’m innocent. I love you all. I’m a soldier like you.”
He was answered by Sergeant Faiz Udwan; “If you loved us, why did you order our discharge without cause while we were at the front fighting the enemy of the country? You don’t fear God or love anyone.”
“I swear, my brothers, that I’m being abused. The one who discharged you was Abdullah Atfeh, Chief of the General Staff. I issued orders that you be given employment with Tapline.”
Abu Mansour ordered him to keep quiet, and a heavy silence fell over the armored car. Zaim looked at Abu Mansour’s pistol with its muzzle pointed at his face, then at the submachine guns in the hands of the soldiers, and fear glistened in his eyes.
An hour later, Captain Mraywad and two other officers arrived in an armored car, followed by a large car filled with soldiers. The new arrivals brought two additional prisoners with them: Prime Minister Muhsin al-Barazzi and his son.
The son stayed in the armored car while Muhsin al-Barazzi, dressed in pajamas and shivering from fear and the early morning chill, was led forward. In a trembling voice, he pleaded for his life: “Have mercy on me! I didn’t have anything to do with what went on; Have mercy on me! Have mercy on my child! I throw myself on your mercy!”
Captain Mraywad delivered his orders to Abu Mansour: “The High Command sentenced Husni az-Zaim and Muhsin al-Barazzi to death. You must execute the sentence immediately. That is the order of the Council of War.”
Abu Mansour seized Husni az-Zaim with his left hand, Muhsin al-Barazzi with his right, and led them to a low area occupied by a cemetery. He stood them side by side, facing toward the east, and placed the soldiers who had accompanied him in the armored car in position to act as a firing squad. Then he stepped back out of the line of fire.
A desperate Muhsin al-Barazzi suddenly screamed: “I beg of you . . . Have mercy on me . . . My child . . . I am innocent.” In an attempt to bolster his companion’s courage, Husni az-Zaim addressed him in French, “Don’t be afraid, they won’t kill us. It’s impossible.” The rearing chatter of the submachine guns sending their bullets into the two condemned men shattered the stillness of the night even as Zaim finished his sentence. Abu Mansour then ordered the corpses loaded into the armored car and took them to the military hospital where they were turned over to a thunderstruck officer of the day. After the bodies were placed in the morgue, Abu Mansour locked the door and pocketed the key. He proceeded to arrest Husni az-Zaim’s brother, Bashir, who was in the hospital awaiting an operation. Bashir was subsequently impounded in the infamous Mezze prison and watched SNP memb
ers held there following the revolt of the previous June being released later during the same morning.
The Impact on the SNP
Sa’adeh’s execution was bound to have an adverse impact on the SNP. A leader’s killing creates an obvious break point in any movement’s development, and if the leader is of the prophetic kind (in a Weberian sense), as Sa’adeh was, the break can be irreparable. Sa’adeh was acknowledged by the movement itself as undisputed leader and widely considered to be its key visionary and primary strategist. His persuasive visions of social change and advancement, clarity of purpose, and courage in challenging powerful opponents gave him great moral and symbolic authority within the movement and enabled him to galvanize and inspire mass mobilization even in the face of profound adversity. Because of all that, his replacement was bound to be difficult.