May 1989, Page 40
Book Review
Asad: The Struggle for the Middle East
By Patrick Seale. University of California Press, 1988. 552
pp. $25.00.
Reviewed by Russell Warren Howe
When publishers decided they wanted short or "sexy" titles,
the sub-title came back as the true explanation of a book. Patrick
Seale of the London Observer sees the struggle for the Middle East
as being, not between Washington and Moscow, or Tehran and Riyadh,
but between Baghdad and Tel Aviv. This is the story that he tells
through the prism of a biography of a "stubborn yet prudent"
man who, like Egyptian presidents Anwar Al-Sadat and Hosni Mubarak
and Turkey's Kenan Evren, reached distinction through the armed
forces—because cadet school was the passport to education
for poor peasant boys.
Like Mubarak, Hafez Al-Assad (Seale prefers one s) was a fighter
pilot. He never saw action, but he did win a trophy for aerobatics.
The skill is unexpected in one whose trademark has been caution.
With, until recently, far fewer military pieces on the board than
Israel, he has waited patiently for Israeli overreach (like that
of the Ottomans in the area, or the Germans in Europe) to allow
him to achieve his goals. A proud man, this secular Ba'ath politician
and frustrated poet has borne international humiliation with Muslim
patience. Last spring, in one of his final interviews with Seale
before publication, he said with what must have been a sort of weary
satisfaction: "I have always been a man of institutions."
The truth is perhaps that this foxy 9th child of an illiterate
peasant's 11 children has never overreached to the same degree as
the Americans, the Israelis, and the Palestinians. He has ridden
the tortuous crests of Syrian politics, including those of Syrian-occupied
Lebanon, which taken together resemble a Boston Brahmin's idea of
a Polish wedding. He is also a veteran of pan-Arab political intrigues,
with their often Shakespearean dimensions.
Empathetic Yet Critical
Seale's book is the empathetic but critical profile of a survivor
who, although called the "Bismarck of the Middle East,"
is first and foremost an archetypical Arab chieftain from the mountains.
He lacks the easy graces of the desert monarchs. He is instead as
ascetic as a Sufi mystic.
Yet his charisma is that of a king. The Emperor Haile Selassie
of Ethiopia scuttled the first coup d'etat against him by simply
returning from a foreign visit and ordering the rebels to surrender.
When Assail lay ill with a heart condition in 1984, his youngest
brother, Rifat, perhaps fearful that power would slip from the family's
hands, tried to seize power. Assad, although tired and gravely ill,
simply drove to Rifat's house without guards and challenged him.
The conspiracy collapsed like a pricked balloon.
Assad puts a high value on loyalty and trusts only a few intimates—mostly
fellow Alawite Shi'a, but also some non-Syrians who pose no threat
and who are dependent on his grace and favor. He can be savagely
brutal or Machiavellianly soft with opponents. A workaholic with
little time for his wife and children, he seems like a mirror image
of the new US secretary of state, James Baker III.
Assail vs. Arafat
The Syrian leader, as Seale makes dear, has committed mistakes.
He has repeatedly tried to undermine Yasser Arafat's leadership
by setting up puppet Palestinian leaders and organizations. The
result has been to discredit the Palestinians Assail adopts, and
to confirm Arafat as undisputed leader of Palestinians everywhere.
Assad also shares with Yitzhak Shamir and Ollie North the dubious
distinction of having supported Khomeini's Iran in the Persian Gulf
war, and so on.
But Assad has often showed astonishing shrewdness, as, for instance,
in the way he has played the Moscow card. For obvious geographic
reasons, Moscow should be far more concerned with the area than
is Washington. It's clear, however, that the Kremlin had to be cajoled
into playing the sort of regional role which Kissinger believed
the Soviets planned to play. After Israel had obligingly destroyed
Syria's last-generation aircraft and missiles, Yuri Andropov felt
compelled to give Assail a real air force and defense system, operated
by Russians, and with a guarantee that Moscow would punish any attack.
But this is also the story of how Assad was duped by Israel into
the 1967 war just as surely as was Egyptian president Gamal Abdul
Nasser, with Syria being "the sprat to catch the Egyptian mackerel."
Seale relates the 1973 Ramadan war in detail how Sadat informed
Kissinger of his limited "beachhead" objectives across
the Suez Canal, and how Kissinger (in the final analysis, perhaps,
an immigrant with mixed loyalties) betrayed this confidence to Israel,
which then switched most of its forces to the Syrian front. With
equal duplicity, Sadat had already deceived Assad by saying Egyptian
forces would not stop until they had reoccupied the Sinai passes.
Later, Sadat was to tell Assad that "Henry" had persuaded
Israel to implement UN Resolution 242—not just withdrawing
from Sinai, but also from the West Bank, Gaza, and Golan.
The book gives the most complete detail to date of how the Mossad
arranged for explosives to be found in the totebag of an El Al passenger
in London in 1986, thanks to its penetration of an extremist group
in Syria. The arrested Jordanian, Nizar Hindawi, had a record of
working for the Mossad; but the episode embarrassed Damascus, as
it was supposed to do.
Now, with chemical warfare a reality, Israel's illegal settlements
in the occupied territories have become, potentially, that country's
Achilles' heel. But Syrians and Israelis, as Kissinger once said,
are more alike than they care to admit and Assad rejects
optimism. He sees whoever is president of Egypt as Neville Chamberlain—or
much as Chamberlain saw Franklin D. Roosevelt.
Russell Warren Howe is a Washington-based free-lance journalist
who writes regularly for newspapers in the US and abroad. He is
also the author of numerous books and articles on the influence
of special interest groups on American politics. |