In the Lion's Den Read online

  As he continued, I relaxed. “During that time, I was a fellow with the Institute of Current World Affairs, an old American fellowship that supports writers willing to go deeply into a subject. If you had two years of your life to investigate a topic thoroughly, what would it be?”

  Without hesitating, I said, “I would look at how these pressures and threats from the United States and the West impact Syrian society.”

  “I’m now the chairman of ICWA,” he said, “but the decision is not up to me. The institute’s website explains the selection process, which is rigorous. I suggest you apply.”

  After dinner I dropped Joe off at his hotel and headed home. As I lay in bed, I began to realize that I had a great story unfolding in front of me and that it might be worth staying in Syria after all.

  On May 11, 2004, President Bush implemented US sanctions on Syria. In a statement to Congress, Bush chose the ban on US exports to Syria and a ban on Syrian flights to the United States. Regime newspapers and pundits immediately declared the sanctions unjust and unjustified.4 As I made the rounds to the various pundits around Damascus, they all dismissed sanctions as lacking any substance. After all, they reasoned, Syria’s trade with the United States was only a few hundred million dollars per year, and the state carrier, Syrian Arab Airlines, didn’t fly to the United States anyway.

  Nevertheless, a closer look at the Bush administration’s implementation of the sanctions, as well as the SAA’s implementation, gave hints of how the White House was likely to pressure the Assad regime in the years to come. The order implementing the SAA, Executive Order 13338, first declared a “state of emergency” regarding Syria, and declared it a threat to US national security.5 This allowed Bush not only to implement the SAA, but to apply other legislation designed to fight the war on terror to Syria. First, Bush announced that the Treasury Department would investigate if Syria’s largest state bank, the Commercial Bank of Syria, should be designated by the US government as a money-laundering institution under the USA PATRIOT Act (which stands for Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism). For those who understood Syria’s economy, this effectively sanctioned the main financial vehicle through which the Syrian government collected the country’s oil revenues, which accounted for about half the state budget. Second, Bush announced that Syrian nationals would now be subject to the International Economic Emergency Powers Act (IEEPA), which would allow the US government to seize the assets of those threatening US national security, as outlined under Executive Order 13338.

  While the order’s announcement was heavy on sticks, there were a few specific carrots, too. Bush issued a letter to Congress stating that waivers would be issued in order to facilitate other aspects of US and Western policy on Syria. “Export licenses” would be issued for certain “discrete categories of exports … to support activities of the United States Government and United Nations agencies, to facilitate travel by United States persons, for certain humanitarian purposes, to help maintain aviation safety, and to promote the exchange of information.”6

  After a couple of days chasing Syrian reactions to the sanctions announcement, I returned to MAWRED’s office on Thursday, hoping to get some work done before Friday and Saturday, Syria’s weekend. But as I stepped through Syria Today’s office door and heard Leila screaming into the phone, I knew it was going to be a tough day. In fact, it was the beginning of the worst forty-eight hours of my life.

  “What do you mean, do we have the money?” Leila shouted into the phone. While this was hardly the first time my day had started with Leila bellowing into the phone at someone, the look on her face told me that this outburst was prompted by fear, not anger.

  “How could the money have been allocated, Dunya?” Leila continued. “We don’t have a contract or a term of reference! Are you sure of what you are saying?”

  I put down my bag and immediately signaled to Leila to stop the conversation. In all my years in the Arab world, I knew that no conversation dealing with money should be discussed over the phone—especially in Syria. Never one to understand subtlety, Leila immediately parroted, “Please, Dunya, I don’t want to discuss this on the phone—talk to you later,” and hung up.

  “What was that all about?” I asked, hoping Leila was just overreacting to some small incident, which she had a tendency to do from time to time.

  “Andrew, Dunya says our proposal to build the Women in Syria website has been approved and that we have received the money. What the hell is she talking about?”

  The previous autumn, shortly before the opening of MAWRED, Rola had asked me to put together a proposal to build a web portal dedicated to women in Syria. While I had thought a website dedicated to the needs of women in Syria was a good idea, Rola’s request was a little odd from the start. Rola had said an international agency had “a lot of cash” to support media advocacy of development needs in Syria. I knew that starting a conversation by talking about cash was her crude way of getting the usual Pavlovian responses from those who ran projects for her. Stone-faced, I had immediately responded, “Really? What’s the subject?”

  Rola had then gone on to do what she did best: use the most elaborate words to describe something that had no details and made little sense. Her proposal was simple: make a website about the lives of women in Syria. She said she knew “for a fact” that there was a huge amount of information out there, but much of it needed to be organized, evaluated, translated, and edited. While this had sounded possible, it was when I started asking basic logistical questions that everything became suspect.

  “On what do I base the cost estimates?” I asked Rola. “I don’t know how much material is available and how many man-hours it will take to locate it. I also have to have some idea of what material needs translated and costs per page.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that,” Rola said.

  I cobbled together a proposal as best I could. I had some experiences with websites in terms of content and design, but I had never managed one.

  Over the next few weeks, Rola and I played a bit of proposal badminton. I would send Rola a proposal, and she would quickly hit it back to me, claiming the costs were too low. Finally, after five revisions, I submitted the proposal for one hundred eighteen thousand dollars. I made it conditional on confirmation of subject matter, deadlines, and so on. Rola thanked me with a warm, motherly smile, and asked me to provide her with the computer file containing the proposal as well. I complied.

  I knew that if Dunya, who was on MAWRED’s board, was asking Leila directly about the website project on the telephone, something was amiss. Since it was clear Dunya was not afraid that the conversation might be recorded, that meant she believed she had the country’s mukhabarat (security agencies) backing her up. Dunya was an old friend of Leila’s and mine, but she was also a friend of Mrs. Assad. There were also many rumors of competing political factions in Syria, each with their own agencies. Whatever Syria’s true power distribution, and for whatever personal or political reason, Dunya was demanding quick answers.

  “Andrew, I don’t like the game Rola is playing with us,” Leila said bluntly. “Everyone knows Syria is corrupt, but I will have no part of it.”

  Neither would I. Through my years of work in Syria, I knew that the biggest factor retarding the country’s pace of development was its vast web of corruption. This rotten system was tolerated for a simple reason: it bound together members of the country’s ethnic and religious sects around a state that, while often loathed, stabilized what was once one of the world’s most politically volatile countries. This was perhaps the main reason why Syria’s reform efforts were slow and made little sense. As long as the “commissions” kept coming, things went quietly, smoothly—and slowly.

  With the president now talking about “reform” and “activation” of Syria, suddenly talk of instability echoed like never before, particularly among the old guard, those resisting Assad’s reforms. Since the United States
had allowed Israel to bomb a Palestinian “training camp” in Syria in October 2003 and Bush had signed the SAA into law the following December, internal tensions were rumored to be high, and whispers of old-guard resistance had increased.

  Leila and I knew that the only way to clarify things was to confront Rola directly but civilly. After all, we had very little information—Dunya had simply said that during a MAWRED board meeting, Rola had reported that the website project was awarded and the money had already been disbursed to Leila.

  Leila and I found Rola perched on a rolling chair in her office. After the usual formalities, I asked her about the website and the fact that we had heard the money was allocated to Leila.

  “I want to know who told you that,” said Rola. “The money has been allocated; it’s right here on my desk.”

  Rola patted a large tan duffel bag sitting to her right. In one smooth motion, she unzipped the bag, showing us a mound of stacked Syrian banknotes. After repeating her question several times, we told her that it was Dunya. Rola’s eyes lit up instantly in anger.

  “Perhaps it’s time we started dealing on paper,” Rola said unexpectedly. She handed me a stack of invoices and a bank receipt showing a large transaction in Syrian pounds from the UNFPA. Attached to the top of the stack was a copy of a receipt in the name of Rola’s driver—it was roughly the equivalent of one hundred twenty-five thousand US dollars.

  Rola seemed to have submitted the project, collected the money from the account without our knowledge, and was now holding the full amount for “safekeeping” in Leila’s name, without a term of reference or contract governing and conditioning the use of the funds. It was also strange to be paid in full, in advance.

  Leila remained remarkably calm. I was speechless at first, as the nature of the dangerous situation we were in dawned on me. I then asked for copies of the invoices and receipts, thinking that this would stop Rola from going through with it. To my astonishment, she already had copies ready for me.

  Leila and I immediately returned to our office—without the money—to talk. After saying nothing for almost five minutes, Leila began sobbing uncontrollably at her desk while smoking a cigarette. I knew it was now up to me to find a solution.

  I did not sleep for two days. When you are under intense pressure in an environment where nothing is certain, your mind endlessly runs through scenarios with seemingly logical conclusions—take the money in good faith, believe Mrs. Assad is monitoring MAWRED, carry out the work, and carefully document where it all goes. But what if Mrs. Assad doesn’t know about it? And when the mukhabarat comes knocking, wouldn’t Leila and I get blamed for embezzlement? Did the fact that Dunya was asking aggressively for details mean that she was working for the old guard? Or did she simply want to make Rola look bad in front of Mrs. Assad? Or was Rola trying to set me up? Last, but also important, given all the questions being raised, where was Mrs. Assad anyway? Wasn’t she the patron of this “NGO”?

  At 2:30 AM on day two of the crisis, I suddenly sat up in bed with the answer at my fingertips. I ran to my laptop and started drafting a letter from Leila to Rola. After thanking Rola for her help over the past year, I worded the letter carefully, avoiding accusing either side of anything:

  Registering a company in Syria is a complex process. I have received considerable help from —— andAndrew Tabler to structure my business according to my original business plan. Despite this effort, my company remains unregistered. I hope that the company’s incorporation papers can be submitted sometime next month….

  I was happy to hear that you have approved the proposal you asked me to submit concerning the creation of a website called Women in Syria. I was also glad to hear the project’s funding had been approved.

  Mr. —— has informed me that any money I receive prior to my company’s incorporation will be considered income under Syrian law and will be taxable at the top tax rate of 35 percent. Given the fact that my company is not yet established and that I have no way of receiving funds, we will only be able to carry out segments of the proposed Women in Syria website on an invoice basis following my company’s registration.

  This solution suits the current status of my company as a fledgling business as well as MAWRED’s natural desire to make sure it gets the most from its funding. At the same time, I am confident that our involvement in the project will ensure the website is of top quality. With this then out of the way, I look forward to receiving from MAWRED an outline of what it feels is important to be included in the website. The proposal lists a number of general stages and estimated costs to carry out a major web portal on a topic important to Syria. Now it is time for us to work together and establish a clear and detailed plan and time frame to carry out this work.

  Immediately after finishing the draft, I returned to bed and fell asleep. My plan seemed the perfect solution for an opaque situation. I had essentially worded it so that Leila said she was happy to help but was unable to receive the funds. Whatever work that was to be carried out would have to be detailed, and the transactions executed from MAWRED’s bank account. Finally, the letter implied that an NGO under Asma al-Assad’s patronage would, of course, only produce businesses that pay their taxes.

  When I entered the office early the next morning, Leila was already sitting at her desk, her face showing the stress of many in Arab countries who fear the secret police and have little faith in justice. I showed her the letter and explained my plan. After studying the letter, Leila added only one thing: a line of cc’s at the bottom that included Mrs. Assad, Dunya, and a few others.

  I knew that the only way to make sure this did not get out of control was to get it into Mrs. Assad’s hands first. In democracies and dictatorships alike, solving problems effectively is all about access to power. In all my months in Syria as an “expert” with FIRDOS, I had had little direct contact with Mrs. Assad. However, I had a way of getting a message to her—through the FIRDOS daily mailbag. On the afternoon of May 18, I sent the letter to the palace via FIRDOS. I attached a note to the first lady telling her that I thought I was being paid for my work by FIRDOS, but Rola indicated that I was being paid by MAWRED as well. I added, “I was hoping you could help Rola straighten this out.”

  Copies of the letter were also delivered to Rola and Dunya the next morning. At around 9 AM the day after, Rola and Dunya were summoned to Mrs. Assad’s office for an urgent meeting. Leila and I, who had reported the problem and knew all of its most intimate details, were not invited to the meeting or ever questioned concerning the contents of the letter.

  To this day, my only account of what happened in the meeting is from Dunya and Rola themselves. Dunya said that after asking a series of questions, Mrs. Assad asked Rola why the money was on her desk in cash. When Rola replied that it was because she thought other members of MAWRED would take it, Mrs. Assad reportedly shook her head in disgust.

  Rola had a completely different story. She insisted that she had “played her cards very well”—a none-too-subtle reference to the framing of facts in accordance with reported conflicts between various power bases in the country. I imagine that Rola tried to spin Dunya as working with the old guard to take down MAWRED, thus making the Assads’ efforts to reform Syria appear insincere.

  Around the time that Rola and Dunya received their copies of the letter, I received a phone call from the first lady’s secretary, Lina Kinaye. After greeting me and talking a bit, she said, “Oh yes, and by the way, the letters you have sent up through the FIRDOS mailbag? They have been received. Thank you very much for those.”

  “My pleasure,” I said. “I’d like to see the first lady sometime soon to talk about this.”

  “I’ll put in the request,” she said. Then she hung up.

  I sat at my desk and just stared at the wall in disbelief. What an incredibly strange way to work. No one had actually stolen or misappropriated anything, but it was clear that the system lacked even the most basic of financial controls and checks. I realized that the NGOs were
experimental, but wouldn’t it just be easier to pass a law governing these institutions? Without laws, the conditions were rife for corruption. But this situation also had an important ancillary benefit for the Assads: they became the only players empowered to investigate malfeasance and arbitrate in disputes between parties. In a rapidly changing society opening up to the outside world, this gave the Assads tremendous power to control society—even more than the political repression that had maintained Bashar’s father’s grip on Syria.

  A few days later, Rola asked me to come to her office. The gloomy and stressed Rola of the past few weeks was gone; color had returned to her cheeks and a smile to her face. She looked me straight in the eyes for at least a minute.

  “The first lady would like you to go with us to China,” she announced triumphantly.

  “What?” I asked, while immediately thinking of the crisis of the previous week. I knew that President Assad was planning a state visit to China soon, but I had no idea when it would occur. Unlike his father, Bashar enjoyed foreign visits and had already traveled to the United Kingdom, France, Spain, and Turkey in the first four years of his presidency.

  “Do you want to go?” Rola said, smiling wryly. No foreign journalist—let alone an American—had ever been permitted to travel with a Syrian president. If Rola was telling the truth, and I actually made it on the trip, I knew that the first lady had approved it. Who else had the authority to clear that through security?

  “Yes,” I said.

  I worked until early evening and then walked over to the British ambassador’s residence in Mezze for the Queen’s annual birthday celebration. The ambassador’s garden was full of Syrian businessmen, almost all of whom were at least fifty pounds overweight. Their wives, covered in jewels to compensate for their fading beauty, stood by their sides. Waiters in black tuxedoes offered guests rich hors d’oeuvres and big crystal glasses brimming with stiff drinks.