The Wall Street Journal reports: Lebanon’s Military Tribunal charged a prominent politician close to Syria and Hezbollah of conspiring to carry out terrorist attacks in Lebanon and plotting to assassinate politicians and religious figures in the country.

The charges are a blow to the image and influence of Syria’s President Bashar al-Assad and his allies Iran and Hezbollah, the militant Lebanese Shiite political party. They also mark the first time in the 17-month uprising that the Syrian regime has been publicly named in a judicial indictment for inciting violence in another country.

The charges, according to Lebanese state media, named former Lebanese Information Minister Michel Samaha, who is considered a close ally of Syria, Iran and Hezbollah, as well as two Syrians: Chief of the Syrian National Security Bureau Gen. Ali Mamlouk and a Syrian army officer, Brig. Gen. Adnan, whose full name wasn’t stated.

The charges allege that Mr. Samaha, working with Syrian officers, set up an armed group in Lebanon to distribute and plant bombs aimed at inciting sectarian unrest and targeting “the authority of the state and its civil and military institutions,” according to Lebanese state media.

Rami G. Khouri writes: For months now, speculation by analysts, diplomats, scholars and journalists about the nature of the post-Bashar Assad transition in Syria has been as dynamic as the events on the ground. But with one big difference: Most analyses of events on the ground rely on facts; but discussion of how events will unfold in post-Assad Syria has been riddled with wildly unsubstantiated speculation and pessimism, often tarnished by doses of Orientalism, anti-Arab and anti-Islamic racism, and plain old-fashioned amateurism and ignorance.

The prevalent perceptions I refer to include that Syria will long remain locked in domestic strife; the Alawites will face eternal hostility and revenge; sectarian civil war is likely to break out; the post-Assad struggle for power will be chaotic and perhaps violent; Syria could easily break up into several smaller ethnic statelets linked to neighboring states or compatriots; Syria’s collapse will trigger warfare across the region, and a few other such scenarios. While some or all of this might happen, I suggest that we must keep open the possibility that Syria’s post-Assad transition will be much less chaotic or violent than many fear, for several reasons:

The evidence from other Arab transitions offers no support for the expectation that Syria’s transition will be a sectarian free-for-all. Egypt, Tunisia, Yemen and Libya’s self-ignited regime changes (unlike Iraq’s Anglo-American initiated mess) have not only avoided major sectarian troubles or violence, but in fact the re-legitimized constitutional processes have included a serious and deliberate attempt to make sure that all population groups are given equal opportunity to partake in public life and governance – not on the basis of sectarian quotas, but on the basis of equal citizenship.

The Syrian people are too intelligent, sophisticated and cosmopolitan to allow themselves to sink into a dark pit of sectarian warfare, even if their sick Baathist-led, Alawite-run power elite uses sectarianism and the specter of post-Assad chaos as tools of intimidation – tools that have failed miserably, in any case.

Syrians of all identities will be so pleased to start a new life of normalcy, freedom, dignity and citizenship the day after Assad is toppled that they will be too busy re-creating their own country in their own image to be sidetracked into domestic warfare. The last thing Syrians want after 42 years of police-state rule and many months of violence since March 2011 is to keep fighting each other.

The day after Assad will not necessarily be a moment of chaos. A reasonably orderly transition could occur, because a credible, indigenous structure for governance already exists. The dozens, perhaps hundreds, of local committees across Syria that have been organizing the revolt against Assad family rule will emerge the day after with immense legitimacy, authority and logistical capability in governing at the local level. [Continue reading…]

Martin Chulov reports: First Lieutenant Darid Barakat sat on a foam mattress on the floor of a schoolhouse, men he once commanded alongside him, and his captors standing in a murky corridor outside.

There were 30 or so men held in the room – in what passes for a prisoner of war facility in a rebel-controlled part of Syria. Barakat and two others, both officers like him, were members of the Alawite sect. Another officer was a Shia, and the rest were all soldiers – and Sunnis – like the rebels now holding them.

The prisoners had been there since late July, not long after a plan by the Free Syrian Army to bring its uprising to the heart of the country’s second city, Aleppo, was put into action by the rebel force in the city of al-Bab. Until that point, the local guerrillas had not fired a shot in 18 months of uprising.

Barakat and some others had worked at the military security office in the heart of al-Bab, 30km north-east of Aleppo. With him in the makeshift jail were captives from the nearby political security building and from all other corners of the regime’s extensive police state.

The battle to take al-Bab had been a rout; the once formidable stretch of state buildings were destroyed and the defeated men who once worked inside were now at the mercy of an enemy whom they had dreaded.

“Of course, I know what happens in these situations,” said Barakat, as he sat cross-legged in the garden of the schoolhouse early last week. “Prisoners were beaten, dissenters were chased and jailed. I thought we were going to get the same treatment.”

The reputation for brutality in Syria’s civil war is growing. While captured soldiers generally are treated better than intelligence officers – or the loathed Shabiha militias – allegations of prisoner abuse are rife on both the regime and rebel side. The execution of the three men who controlled the Shabiha in Aleppo has drawn the same sort of outrage levelled at regime abuses throughout the revolt. At the main rebel base in Aleppo, screams of prisoners being beaten could be heard throughout the night early last week.

“We’ve heard about it,” said one of the al-Bab rebels. “That’s not us.”

Sitting next to Barakat, 35, was his jailer, a local Sunni sheikh, Omar Othman, who commanded the rebel unit in the area, named Katiba al-Ansar. Dressed in an exquisitely embroidered dishdasha and wearing a cast on his lower left leg, Omar asked Barakat whether he and the other men were fearful as the battle drew to a close.

“I swear, sheikh, that the guys were scared for a while,” he replied. “They were scared from all the fighting and they were worried about what would happen.”

The sheikh and his captive – the Sunni rebel leader and the Alawite officer – were getting deeper into conversation. Barakat agreed to let The Observer listen in and asked that his name be used.

“I didn’t expect you to treat us this way,” said Barakat. “You give us food three times a day, Qu’rans, and even cigarettes.”

“You would not have done the same for us,” Omar replied.

“That’s true,” said Barakat. “There was a culture there.”

“It was more than a culture,” Omar replied. “It had become a way of life. Cruelty and oppression were what you guys did by instinct.”

“It wasn’t me,” said Barakat. “It was the system. All I did is order guys to go out and beat people with sticks whenever there was a demonstration. I am not so connected to the regime, it was just a job to me.”

Omar lifted his dishdasha and pointed at his cast. “You guys shot me,” he said, pointing to the top of his left foot, which had been hit by a bullet during the fight for the military security building. “If you were not a big supporter of the regime, why did you work for military security [one of the most feared of Syria’s intelligence agencies]?”

“Sheikh, I had no choice. This was our reality.”

As the battle grinds towards a conclusion in Aleppo, Syria’s warring parties are increasingly being forced to confront some uncomfortable truths. Themes now being openly discussed in scenes like this, as well as in meetings between elders, and even during moments of introspection on the battlefield, include: how did the society slide this far towards the abyss, and can anything be done to rescue it now?

Whether it likes it or not, Syria’s Alawite minority was at the vanguard of the crackdown that followed the first stirrings of popular uprising in March last year, and which has now evolved into civil war. Also undeniable is that the opposition movement and guerrilla force is almost exclusively comprised of Sunnis, some of whom hold a grudge against the Alawites, whom they see as agents of a regime of persecution.

The spectre of of sectarian bloodletting looms as violence escalates nationwide and hopes for resolution continue to appear out of reach.

Yet both the sheikh and the Alawite lieutenant are anxious to dispel talk of longstanding enmity between their sects. The same case for cooperation is being made in political circles, although hardly with a booming voice. [Continue reading…]

Irish-Libyan military commander Mahdi Al-Harati now leads the Liwa al-Ummah brigade in Syria.

Mary Fitzgerald, foreign affairs correspondent for the Irish Times, writes: In a dusty schoolyard somewhere in Idlib province, several hundred men form neat rows before standing to attention. “Who are we?” bellows one man at the front. “Liwa al-Ummah!” the men reply in unison, pumping their guns in the air. They look different from your average Syrian rebel fighter, typically dressed in a scruffy mismatch of military fatigues and civilian clothes. Most of these men are decked out in identical fatigues, boots, and khaki-colored T-shirts. A handful sport dazzling white T-shirts emblazoned with the Liwa al-Ummah crest: a raised fist set against the tri-starred green, white, and black flag adopted by the Syrian rebels. “Revolutionaries of Sham,” it reads, using the Arabic term for historical greater Syria, above the name Liwa al-Ummah.

Sitting in an empty classroom flanked by several Syrian and Libyan fighters, a soft-spoken Libyan-born Irish citizen named Mahdi al-Harati explains how he came to be the leader of Liwa al-Ummah. The brigade emerged, he says, after several Syrians, aware of his experience as commander of the Tripoli Brigade during the Libyan revolution, approached him about founding a similar outfit in Syria.

The Tripoli Brigade was one of the first rebel units into the Libyan capital in August 2011. Its fighters, who included many Libyan expatriates, had received training from Qatari special forces in Nalut, a town in Libya’s western mountains. After the fall of Tripoli, during which he participated in the battle for Muammar al-Qaddafi’s Bab al-Aziziya compound, Harati was appointed deputy head of the Tripoli Military Council (TMC), serving under Abdel Hakim Belhaj, former leader of the now-defunct Libyan Islamic Fighting Group. Last autumn Harati stepped down as commander of the brigade and as TMC deputy. He made his first trip to Syria shortly afterward for what he says was initially humanitarian work in the country’s northern borderlands. The idea for Liwa al-Ummah came this year.

“There was a sense of increasing frustration among the Syrian thuwar [revolutionaries] over their lack of coordination,” he says. “They asked me if I could help them train and organize, and I agreed.”

According to Harati, more than 6,000 men across Syria have joined Liwa al-Ummah since its establishment three months ago. Most are members of existing rebel battalions or groups who decided to come under the Liwa al-Ummah umbrella; others signed up as individuals.

He says the brigade is separate from the Free Syrian Army, the loosely organized grouping of military defectors and civilian volunteers whose nominal leadership is based just over the border in Turkey. Liwa al-Ummah is also in the process of developing a Syrian-led political wing, as are an increasing number of other brigades.

Recently posted YouTube videos show a number of Syrian rebel factions announcing they have joined Liwa al-Ummah. Harati stresses that Syrians make up over 90 percent of the brigade. The rest are Libyans, most of them former members of the Tripoli Brigade, along with a smattering of other Arabs. Almost all use the honorific title “Sheikh Mahdi” when referring to Harati.

“We’re here to facilitate and train civilian rebels in Syria — many of whom are doctors, engineers, and teachers — using our experience during the Libyan revolution,” Harati says. “We are a group of civilians brought together for a cause. When the Syrians have achieved their revolution, our job will be done.”

With Harati are some of his closest confidants from Ireland and Libya. Back home in Dublin, where he lives with his Irish-born wife and four children, Harati teaches Arabic and is known as an activist who is heavily involved in the Palestinian cause. He took part in the 2010 Gaza-bound flotilla, which was intercepted by Israeli commandos, resulting in the deaths of nine people. [Continue reading…]