Assad must stand aside? The international community’s ambivalent response
We have consistently said that President Assad must lead a democratic transition or get out of the way. He has not led. For the sake of the Syrian people, the time has come for President Assad to step aside.
US President, Barack Obama, 18 August 2011.1
In Syria’s north-west, the border with Turkey follows the snaking Orontes River for about 30 kilometres. That this is the border at all has long been a sore point for Damascus as the neighbouring Turkish province of Hatay was originally Syrian before being given away by France in the 1930s. This was one of many issues underpinning an uneasy relationship for most of these neighbours’ modern history. In early 2011, however, such hostility had been consigned to the past. Signifying a recent flourishing of ties, on 6 February Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdoğan joined his Syrian counterpart, Muhammad Naji al-Otari, on the banks of the Orontes to lay the foundation stone for a new ‘Friendship dam’, a $28.5 million joint project. ‘We want the whole region to prosper, together with Turkey,’ Erdoğan told television cameras, ‘we struggle not to walk all over each other but to help each other. And we have achieved this with Syria.’2 Yet within months Syria would be engulfed in unrest and Turkish–Syrian relations would sink to their lowest ever ebb.3
Turkey, like most foreign leaders and analysts, had shared the Syrian President’s presumption that his country would be immune from the unrest seen in Tunisia and Egypt. The international response, when it did come, was cautious and uncertain. Surprise was compounded by political calculation. Almost no government welcomed the Arab Spring spreading to Syria. Old allies, such as Russia and Iran, and new, such as Turkey and Qatar, had no desire to see Assad dispatched like Mubarak or Ben Ali after so much political investment. Even Assad’s traditional enemies in the west and in Saudi Arabia had recently re-engaged with Damascus. Moreover, from early on most foreign actors recognised the potential combustibility of Syria with its diverse population and its location on multiple regional and international fault lines. On top of this, attentions were focussed elsewhere. By the time of the Deraa demonstrations twelve other countries had seen substantial protests and there were serious crises in Egypt, Bahrain and Libya. Attention for Syria was limited and Assad was to be given a chance. Western leaders condemned the violence but alongside pleas for reform, while regional players urged compromise in private meetings.
However, with the violence escalating, patience with Assad expired, and it did so quickly. Over two crucial months, July–August 2011, Assad’s allies Qatar and Turkey abandoned him, and several western states, led by Barack Obama, called for him to stand aside. Similarly, in what would prove a key dividing line for the coming civil war, Russia and Iran, despite some early ambiguity, stood by Assad. The decision to turn on Assad by the west and regional actors would play a key role in the move towards civil war and will therefore be explored in this chapter. In particular it will be asked why these states, having been so conscious of the dangers of instability in Syria early on, adopted such a harsh line so suddenly, further escalating the situation. It will be seen that while moral considerations may have justified these policy-makers’ stances, a range of factors, including domestic concerns, personal opinion, ideology and regional ambition, actually drove their actions. Moreover, all of the states that would turn on Assad betrayed a lack of knowledge and understanding of the regime at this point, as illustrated in their mistaken analysis that the regime was close to falling.
The Arab Spring shakes the Middle East
To understand the international response to the Syrian crisis, the impact of the Arab Spring must be considered. The Deraa protests began in between two of the most important episodes of the Arab Spring: the crackdown in Bahrain and the UN vote to intervene in Libya. From the beginning then, no foreign-policy maker was ever dealing with Syria in isolation, but rather as yet another strand of what appeared a sudden and confusing regional transformation. Bureaucrats and leaders struggled to keep up, and developing any regional strategy proved next to impossible. This would have an important impact on their approach to Syria.
Egypt
Barack Obama came to power determined to lessen American involvement in the Middle East, so the Arab uprisings were somewhat undesired. Having abandoned Bush’s democracy proselytising, the President now found himself under pressure to support the protesters. The Tunisian revolution had been fast and in a relatively peripheral country, but, when tens of thousands took to the streets in Egypt, the US’ key Arab ally, the White House was dragged in. The US had influence with the military to which it provided $1.3 billion in annual military aid, but how should it be exercised? With media coverage constant, led by al-Jazeera, the White House and State Department scrambled to make difficult decisions with limited facts.4 In her memoirs, Hillary Clinton notes how ‘some of Obama’s aides were swept up in the idealism of the moment’, urging the President to call on Mubarak to stand down immediately, while she and other realists like Defense Secretary Robert Gates urged caution. They believed Mubarak should stand down, but in a gradual transition that guaranteed stability and didn’t give the impression that Washington quickly abandons its allies.
At first Obama appeared to be swayed by Clinton but, as protests spread and Mubarak refused to make concessions, he came under increasing domestic pressure to call for the Egyptian leader to go. Frustrated, Obama tacked towards the idealists.5 When Mubarak didn’t resign as expected on 10 February, instead defiantly stating that ‘I will not, nor will I ever, accept to hear foreign dictations’ – a not-so-veiled message to Obama – Gates was drafted to call Egyptian Army Commander-in-Chief Field Marshal Mohamed Hussein Tantawi to deliver a swift message: Mubarak must go now. The next day, he was gone, but the cost to Obama was considerable. Events had sucked him back into the Middle East against his will. He was criticised for having stuck by Mubarak too long by idealists and for ‘throwing him under the bus’ too quickly by realists. These two poles were going to pull at the President throughout the Arab Spring.
The US proved to be the only external state with any real influence over Egypt, yet the remaining regional players’ reactions were an indicator of the shifts in behaviour to come. Qatar, Turkey and Iran positioned themselves on the side of the people. Erdoğan and Iranian Foreign Minister Ali Akbar Salehi spoke in support of ‘freedom’ in early February, while al-Jazeera’s near constant coverage of the revolution implied Qatari approval. Seeing potential geopolitical advantage, Iran falsely gloated that events in Tunisia and Egypt were both ‘Islamic’ and ‘anti-western’, and Ayatollah Khamenei tweeted that the Egyptian Revolution marked an end of superpowers.6 Pressing the point, Tehran sent two ships – both apparently unarmed – to Syria on 18 February, believed to be the first time Iranian vessels had been allowed to use Egypt’s Suez Canal since 1979.
Even before such Iranian provocations, Saudi Arabia was greatly alarmed by Mubarak’s fall. Of the six regional players in the Syria crisis, Saudi Arabia was the only one directly threatened by the contagion effect of the Arab Spring, and so most feared its spread. It publicly condemned the uprisings in Tunisia and Egypt, providing refuge for Ben Ali and offering the Egyptian military £4 million in aid the day after Mubarak’s ouster, allegedly in exchange for not bringing the former President to justice.7 With a substantial segment of its own population, among the most avid Twitter and Facebook users in the world, showing support for the Egyptian protesters, Riyadh turned its immediate attention internally and it’s Gulf neighbours. However, it was livid at Obama for what it saw as his Egyptian betrayal.
Bahrain
Riyadh’s fears were realised almost immediately when protests broke out in neighbouring Bahrain three days after Mubarak’s departure. The largely peaceful protesters called for democratic reform, but included a sectarian dimension. Most were drawn from the under-represented Shia who made up 65–75% of Bahraini citizens, while the ruling elite including the royal family was Sunni. With 100,000–150,000 joining the crowds, the government requested help from fellow Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) monarchies and on 14 March 1,000 Saudi and 500 Emirati troops crossed into the island kingdom to help crush the unrest.
This proved an important turning point for the regional actors. Firstly, it revealed the selective nature of international support for the Arab Spring. Qatar, happy for protests in faraway Egypt but not in a neighbouring fellow GCC state, endorsed the invasion while al-Jazeera’s Arabic channel offered no coverage. Turkey similarly was silent. The United States, which had voiced concerns about Bahrain, kept quiet. The kingdom had important strategic value: it was home to the US’ Fifth Fleet, and Washington was concerned about Iran’s influence over the Shia protesters – something claimed by the Bahraini and Saudi Arabian governments, but later disproved by Bahrain’s own independent report into the unrest.8 Moreover, the US was trying to secure GCC support for NATO action in Libya, and Hillary Clinton later admitted that she compromised on Bahrain to ensure their participation.9
Secondly, Saudi Arabia, which led the Bahrain operation, positioned itself as the leading counter-revolutionary force against the Arab Spring.10 Alongside military activity in Bahrain, it donated generous grants to Bahrain and the governments of Oman and Jordan, which had also suffered unrest, in an attempt to stem the tide of protest. It also took a leading role in trying to manage the growing instability in Yemen. Following its anger after Egypt, Saudi Arabia moved into Bahrain without informing the US, illustrating a growing independence.11 Obama would seek to patch up the relationship, sending Gates and then Donilon to meet with King Abdullah in April, when the Bahrain intervention was not discussed and hence implicitly endorsed. However, this did not sufficiently persuade the Saudi Arabian leadership that this administration could be counted on.
Libya
The first major protests in Libya began on 15 February, a day after those in Bahrain, but produced a very different international reaction. The ruling dictator Muammar Gaddafi refused protesters’ calls to stand down, instead calling them ‘cockroaches’ and ‘rats’, and threatening to ‘cleanse Libya house by house’.12 The regime’s violent response prompted rebel militia to form and on 27 February a National Transitional Council (NTC) to act as a de facto rebel government based in the eastern city of Benghazi from which Gaddafi’s forces had withdrawn. Civil war broke out and initial rebel gains were soon repelled as loyalist forces headed towards Benghazi, amplifying opposition calls for a protective no-fly zone. In an example of how earlier episodes of the Arab Spring impacted later ones, France, embarrassed by its offer to help Ben Ali restore order in Tunisia in January, was determined to be on ‘the right side of history’ this time and was the first to call for Gaddafi’s ouster on 25 February. Britain’s David Cameron likewise saw an opportunity to get ahead of events and called for a no-fly zone three days later.
The White House, under pressure from its European allies and members of the Senate, experienced the same idealist–realist divisions as on Egypt. Gates and Vice President Joe Biden counselled caution, warning that Gaddafi’s downfall might bring chaos in which al-Qaeda would thrive.13 Samantha Power and Susan Rice, long advocates of the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) doctrine supported intervention. Clinton, cautious on Egypt, now argued that as France and Britain were determined to intervene it would be better for the US to ‘drive’ efforts and ensure a favourable result.14 Persuaded away from his initial caution once more, Obama supported UN1973, proposed by Britain, France and Lebanon (representing the Arab League) on 17 March. However, insiders later argued that Obama had been ‘goaded’ into action, with some US officials calling the operation France’s ‘shitty little war’.15 The campaign took longer than anticipated and Libya still descended into the chaos that Gates and Biden feared, impacting Obama’s view on military intervention – a lesson that would later shape his Syria policy. Ironically, US support for UN1973 led regional actors to a different conclusion: the Libya model of external intervention in support of armed resistance prompted new thinking among Syria’s opposition and its regional allies. Observers wrongly believed that this was a return to American regional hegemony, and not an exception to Obama’s preferred retrenchment.
Other regional responses varied. Saudi Arabia supported UN1973, but unlike UAE, Jordan and Qatar sent no material support. Turkey, revealing the limitations to its newfound support for the people, questioned the no-fly zone, claiming it was motivated by western desires for Libyan oil. Commentators noted, however, that Turkey enjoyed $2.6 billion in annual trade with Gaddafi’s Libya and had $15 billion in pre-existing construction contracts.16 Eventually Erdoğan was persuaded, as was Russia, which abstained from the UN Security Council vote on 17 March. Quite what Moscow believed it was implicitly endorsing would later be debated and have consequences for Syria.
Qatar’s role in Libya would also reverberate in Syria. The Arab League’s support for a no-fly zone, announced on 12 March, was primarily due to Doha’s efforts. Qatar was the first Arab state to recognise the NTC as the legitimate government of Libya. Qatar saw multiple advantages: to boost its regional profile, increase popularity on the Arab street, and strengthen its value to western allies. This proved the first stage of a more activist regional policy after the Arab Spring. As the conflict progressed, Qatar would send six combat fighter jets, forge close relations with Islamist fighters and politicians on the ground – notably Abdelhakim Belhadj and the al-Salibi brothers – send weaponry to the rebels and, it was later revealed, dispatch its own special forces.17 The eventual success of the campaign, with Gaddafi defeated and killed on 20 October, greatly boosted Qatari confidence in its regional ventures, again to be seen in Syria.18
Syria
When the first protests erupted in Deraa the international community was therefore poorly placed to respond. Western diplomats talked about a lack of ‘bandwidth’: the limited number of simultaneous crises they could handle at once. One British official noted that “we had Tunisia and Egypt, Yemen, then Libya, Bahrain, so from the point of the Foreign Office, by the time you got to Syria we were so steeped in daily, hourly even, issues to do with the Middle East.”19 With limited capacity, certain crises took precedence. Egypt, as a key US ally and the largest Arab state, was the greater priority. State Department officials worked 24–hour shifts through the Egypt crisis.20 The military campaign in Libya also understandably took precedence and a British official remarked that only when Libya was nearing its conclusion in September was sufficient energy focussed on Syria.21
Regional actors also suffered from a lack of bandwidth. In March and April, Saudi Arabia’s attention was focussed internally and in the Gulf. Qatar was primarily focussed on Libya. Importantly, regional actors were disinclined to draw attention to Syria at this stage. Russia and Iran were solid Assad allies. Qatar and Turkey, also close to Assad, kept quiet – it was almost two weeks before al-Jazeera started covering the crisis.22 Riyadh too initially offered Assad support, with King Abdullah telephoning him on 28 March.23 Moreover, the governor of the Saudi Arabian Monetary Agency, Muhammad al-Jasser, announced in mid-March that the kingdom was offering Syria $140 million in loans.24
Nor did western states immediately adopt a confrontational tone. On 27 March Clinton told CBS, ‘Many of the members of Congress of both parties who have gone to Syria in recent months have said they believe he [Assad]’s a reformer.’ This comment was apparently unplanned and alarmed members of the State Department, but it reflected the west’s preference for urging Assad to reform while condemning the violence. In statements on 8 and 22 April, Obama reiterated this line. He demanded that ‘this outrageous use of violence to quell protests must come to an end now’, but still called on Assad ‘to change course now’.25 Behind the scenes, European diplomats expanded this line. In Damascus the western embassies of the US, UK, France, Germany, Canada, Japan, Denmark and the Netherlands, among others, reached out to protesters, offering support and forging connections. Yet at the same time, they met frequently with Syrian officials such as Foreign Minister Walid al-Muallem, Bouthaina Shaaban and Mohammad Nassif Kherbei (a confidant of Assad) to urge engagement with the opposition and offer EU support for reform efforts. Meetings were held in Brussels to discuss how the EU might support the regime were it to take the reform path.26 Despite the genuine outrage at the regime’s violence, there was no rush to call for Assad’s removal – quite the contrary. A combination of stretched capacity due to events elsewhere and political choices to persist with the engagement of recent years meant that international reaction to the Syria crisis was initially muted.
Syria: protests and violence increase
This became increasingly untenable in the late spring and summer of 2011. Protests continued in the rebellious cities of Homs, Deraa and Banias, while dozens of smaller, provincial towns such as Idlib, Telkalakh, Rastan and Tafas, joined in. That summer, the uprising was probably at its most pluralist. Syria’s Kurdish north-east saw some protests, as did parts of the Alawite-dominated coastal city of Latakia and the more tribal eastern city of Deir-ez-Zor. Nor was this just a peasants’ revolt: a large segment of Syria’s middle-class youth took a prominent role, with wealthy Damascenes travelling out to unfamiliar poor suburbs to join in.27 Indeed, in the relatively quiet second city of Aleppo, students led what few demonstrations there were.
In response, the regime continued its violent crackdown: a UN report revealed that up to 1,900 protesters had been killed by mid-July.28 Rebellious centres were targeted: Deraa saw numerous sieges, as did Homs, Banias, Telkalakh, Tafas and Rastan among others. Troops and security forces, often supported by tanks, were deployed widely and rapidly in an attempt to deprive demonstrators of either a Tahrir Square-esque central location, or a Benghazi-esque liberated region that might act as a launch pad for foreign intervention. To this end massive military assaults using helicopter gunships were made in June on the towns of Jisr al-Shughour and Maarrat al-Nu’man in Idlib province. These operations also led to the first wave of Syrian refugees fleeing into neighbouring Turkey. They would be the first of many. Meanwhile the Mukhabarat and Shabiha’s terror continued: 8,000 were detained by the end of July.29 Vicious examples were made, such as Ibrahim Qashoush, a Hama fireman who had written and sung a popular anti-Assad song to protesters, found floating in the Orontes in July with his throat slit and vocal cords cut out.30
Yet the regime persisted with its two central narratives: that it was facing an uprising led by armed gangs, criminals and sectarian jihadists, supported by outside powers; and that Assad was persisting with his own reform programme. In his third major public address of the crisis, on 20 June, Assad spoke at Damascus University, noting how the protesters were akin to ‘germs’, leaving Syria open to ‘foreign intervention’. Yet he also detailed more reforms, including a new electoral law and the possibility of a national dialogue. As after previous speeches tens of thousands gathered in orchestrated shows of support for Assad the next day. As an indication of the divisions taking hold of Syrian society, these rallies took place not just in Damascus and Aleppo, but in areas experiencing unrest: Homs, Hama and Deir-ez-Zor.31 In contrast, oppositionists dismissed Assad’s ‘reforms’, given the simultaneous violent crackdown. These reforms, including a new law on 26 July that theoretically allowed non-Ba’ath-aligned political parties, would have been seismic before 2011, but by now it was too late. Many oppositionists boycotted the promised ‘National Dialogue’ when it convened on 10 July under the supervision of Vice President Farouk al-Sharaa. Indeed, the hollowness of the event was underlined when several of the activists who might have attended were rounded up by the Mukhabarat beforehand.32
Ramadan 2011, which began on 1 August, proved something of a turning point. Conscious that the holy month might galvanise the (mostly Sunni) protesters, the regime launched a new crackdown on 31 July on Hama, Deir-ez-Zor, Al-Bukamal and other centres of protest. Up to 136 people were reported killed in one day. The Hama assault was particularly brutal. The regime’s approach to Hama thus far had been more hands-off than in the case of other rebellious cities. The city had been surrounded with troops and tanks, but they had not moved in. Buoyed by the presence of the audacious American and French ambassadors who visited protesters on 6 July, two days later 500,000 gathered in the city’s al-Assy Square for the uprising’s largest protest. It is unclear whether the regime’s reluctance to immediately crush such displays was due to the discretion of local commanders, sensitivities about Hama’s past as the centre of the 1982 massacre, the military’s preoccupation with events elsewhere, or all three. Either way, this initial reluctance only amplified the crackdown when it came, enraging the opposition and international opinion alike. Between 31 July and 4 August, 200 were estimated to have been killed. Days later the military also entered Homs and Deir-ez-Zor, followed by Latakia. As always, the gratuitousness of this violence was captured on mobile phone cameras and broadcast around the world. With such brutality seemingly exposing the hollowness of his attempts at reform and dialogue, western states, Saudi Arabia, Qatar and Turkey finally lost patience with Assad and undertook a dramatic shift in stance.
Iran, Russia, Qatar and Saudi Arabia: the world turns to Syria
As the world’s attention belatedly turned to Syria, regional powers settled into the positions they would occupy for the coming years. According to Iran expert Jubin Goodarzi, Tehran faced Hobson’s choice: stick by its long-term ally and appear hypocritical after nearly a decade of championing the Arab street, or let events play out and hope that if Assad fell his successors would be friendly.33 There was some ambiguity. On 25 August President Ahmadinejad criticised the regime, stating, ‘they must sit down together to reach a solution, away from violence’. Similarly two days later Foreign Minister Salehi said protesters had ‘legitimate demands’.34 Later on, in November, Syria’s opposition claimed that Iran had reached out to some of them to see what their position would be on key Iranian security interests such as Israel, Lebanon and the US.
However, public statements and outreach came alongside support offered in private, and may have been primarily about maintaining Iran’s regional image. Salehi made numerous trips to Damascus to reassure Assad. Mistakenly seeing the unrest through the lens of their own Green Revolution uprising, a brief surge that would pass quickly, the Iranians offered the expertise learned in 2009. Riot equipment was donated and hundreds from the IRGC Quds Force were dispatched to offer security advice. Tehran also suggested countering the opposition’s messaging. Key technical assistance and training in cyber warfare to combat social media was provided, along with $1 million worth of equipment and training from Lebanese Shia broadcasters.35 In its Hobson’s choice Tehran opted to stick by Assad at the cost of regional credibility.
Like Iran, Russia hinted at public criticism when it joined a statement at the UN Security Council on 3 August condemning the regime’s human rights violations. However this was an exception and Russia mostly offered support from the beginning. In May and June Moscow blocked Britain and France’s draft UNSC resolutions condemning Assad’s use of force. Similarly when the UN Human Rights Council voted on 22 August to launch an investigation into crimes against humanity possibly committed by Assad, Russia joined China in strongly objecting. The two also released a joint statement two days later urging the international community to stay out of Syria’s ‘internal affairs’. Playing along with the regime’s narrative of attempting reforms in the face of an externally led conspiracy, deputy Foreign Minister Mikhail Bogdanov visited Damascus and endorsed Assad’s reforms on 29 August.
Riyadh’s approach was driven as much by external developments as those within Syria. The Saudi Arabia regime had two primary concerns: to contain the Arab Spring to ensure its own safety and to counter Iran. In the late spring and early summer, the first goal drove policy. Institutionally slow and conservative in its foreign policy making and distracted by events in its immediate neighbourhood, Riyadh shared the view that sticking with Assad, perhaps after a few cosmetic reforms, was the best way to halt the Arab Spring’s momentum. Privately King Abdullah sent his son, Prince Abdulaziz bin Abdullah, to Damascus three times to persuade Assad to end his crackdown.36 Each time, the prince was rebuffed, which personally offended Abdullah. By this point however the immediate domestic threat presented by the Arab Spring had passed. Abdullah had shored up his own position with $37 billion of welfare measures, contained the protests in Bahrain and lavished grants on Oman, Bahrain and Jordan. If anything, Abdullah’s silence on Syria was becoming a risk as the outrage of Saudi Arabia’s social media savvy population at the continued Syrian violence grew, supported by religious leaders. It also was becoming clear that the opposition to Assad was not as easily containable as in Bahrain.
As the reasons for standing by Assad rapidly diminished, Saudi Arabia’s second goal, restricting Iran, came to the fore. Were Assad to fall it would be a blow to Riyadh’s regional nemesis, just as it seemed that Tehran was going to be the big beneficiary of the Arab Spring. On 8 August Abdullah finally broke his silence, stating, ‘What is happening in Syria is not acceptable for Saudi Arabia,’ and urging Assad to stop his, ‘killing machine’. 37 At the same time Saudi Arabia withdrew its ambassador to Damascus, a move copied by its close allies Kuwait and Bahrain.
Qatar transformed itself from Syrian ally to leading anti-Assad state in a few months. As the crackdowns stepped up al-Jazeera abandoned its caution, covering the crisis extensively and encouraging citizen journalism. However, subsequent research has shown that it sometimes broadcast, ‘inaccurate reports and unverified or fake footage’, which actually undermined the opposition by giving credence to Assad’s claims of foreign conspiracy.38 Al-Jazeera journalists insisted they were not acting at the behest of the Doha government but did admit to top-down pressure on certain politically sensitive issues, such as not covering protests in Bahrain. A Syrian regime defector even claimed that at one meeting in Doha Emir Hamad told Walid al-Muallem he could reverse the channel’s position in favour of Assad if Damascus accepted reforms.39 As the crisis continued the station essentially became an anti-Assad vehicle, with the Muslim Brotherhood ideologue Yusuf Qaradawi using his regular slot to rail against Damascus.
As al-Jazeera was unleashed Doha simultaneously sought to persuade Assad to cease the violence. Like Abdullah, Emir Hamad dispatched his son, Tamim, who counted Assad a friend, to Damascus. Tamim later recalled urging Assad to end the violence and promising him support if he reformed.40 Syrian defectors suggest that, privately, these ‘reforms’ entailed power-sharing with a rehabilitated Syrian Muslim Brotherhood, tied closely to Doha. Yet Assad refused, and the repression continued. Qatar by this point viewed the Arab Spring as an opportunity to boost its regional influence, and was confident after the Libya campaign. Having found it had no leverage, Doha changed tack. In July it became the first Arab state to freeze relations with Syria. Officially this was a reaction to anti-al-Jazeera protests outside its Damascus embassy, but in reality it was the first step in a new strategy of opposing Assad.
For Turkey too, the summer saw a sharp shift. Even more than Doha and Riyadh, Ankara believed that Assad could be talked round and, when its friend ignored frequent pleas, reacted angrily. Turkey’s transformation from ally to enemy was a far greater blow to Assad than losing Qatar, or the return to enmity of the west or Saudi Arabia. The Turkish frontier was to be the main entry point and supply line for the armed opposition and Ankara’s acquiescence would play a major role in shaping the civil war. It is worth therefore examining in some depth why Turkey turned on Assad over the summer of 2011.
Revolution in Turkey’s foreign policy
In 2003 Professor Philip Robins, a Turkey expert at St Antony’s College, Oxford, noted that Ankara’s foreign policy was directed by the government of the day, with input from the indirectly elected President, the Foreign Ministry (MFA) and the security establishment, but ‘the high priests of Kemalism’ determined grand strategy.41 These senior military officers, bureaucrats and top diplomats were part of a wider Kemalist ‘Deep State’ that had been willing to overthrow elected governments in 1960, 1971, 1980 and 1997 to preserve what they saw as the vision of Turkey’s founder, Mustafa Kemal Atatürk. When it came to foreign affairs, Atatürk’s famous maxim, ‘peace at home, peace in the world’, led these ‘high priests’ to pursue a cautious approach, particularly in the turbulent Middle East, which they sought to keep at arm’s length.
However, the coming to power of the AKP in 2002 revolutionised Turkish domestic politics and, consequently, transformed foreign policy. Erdoğan was determined to curb the power of the Kemalist establishment, particularly the military. This was primarily political: before he founded the AKP his two previous Islamist parties had been banned and he wanted to avoid the same fate. There was also a personal aspect as he had been sent to prison for ten months (though served four) in 1999 for ‘inciting religious hatred’. A series of challenges to the secular establishment were launched, such as lifting a ban on headscarves in universities. More significantly, two high-profile trials – Ergenekon (after 2008) and Sledgehammer (2010) – saw hundreds of military figures and journalists accused of plotting against the state, and over 500 formally charged. In less than ten years Erdoğan overturned decades of military dominance. This was partly down to divisions within the Kemalists, as many opposed the Deep State’s undemocratic practices, even if they shared their secular outlook. Yet it was also the result of Erdoğan’s remarkable political skill. He was charismatic, populist and savvy, forging a wide alliance with businesses, conservatives, democrats and, importantly, the religious Gulen Movement that found support in the press, police and parts of the judiciary. Repeated success at the ballot box, increasing his share of the vote in 2007 from 34% to 46%, gave him a popular mandate to press on with reforms.
Though more democratic, the sidelining of the Deep State weakened the independence of Turkey’s institutions, making foreign policy far more personalised around Erdoğan and Ahmet Davutoğlu. They shared similar characteristics: both were self-assured, stubborn and high-minded. Neither was known for seeking a wide range of advice and opinions, and both were criticised for making political decisions for personal reasons. Davutoğlu was greatly influential in foreign policy, masterminding the highly successful ‘zero problems’ and ‘strategic depth’ approaches of the late 2000s and encouraging deeper engagement with the Middle East. Yet this was as much directed by the Foreign Minister’s worldview as by pragmatism. Though recognising the benefits of seeking EU entry, Davutoğlu argued in his academic work that a degree of ‘irreconcilability’ existed between the cultures of the west and the Islamic world.42 There was ambivalence to his relationship with the west, as he was greatly influenced by five years working at the International Islamic University of Malaysia and sceptical of the westernisation that underpinned Kemalism.43 Crucially, the AKP’s foreign policy ideologue saw Turkey not as a bridge between east and west but as a central country that should project influence, and saw the Islamic world and the Middle East as a key route to this.
Assad stands firm
A lot was at stake for Turkey in Syria. Instability was a threat to security as the PKK might take advantage of it to use a weakened Syria as a base, plus there was the growing number of refugees crossing the border. The economy might also suffer. Syria was a trading partner and an even more important overland trade route south. Politically, Ankara did not want to be seen siding with a murderous tyrant, either by its own population or by the Arab street. Erdoğan assumed that political investment in Syria would translate into influence so when unrest broke out Turkish officials informed the US ‘not to worry’ about Assad.44 However, as violence went on Erdoğan became ever more embarrassed and angry.
Ankara adopted a dual strategy. Erdoğan ramped up the condemnatory tone of his statements and support for the Syrian opposition was gradually increased, with Assad’s opponents permitted to hold conferences in Turkey in May and June – although to show balance Ankara also invited the Syrian government.45 Meanwhile armed opposition groups formed in Hatay in July. At the same time, private diplomacy with the regime remained the main policy until late August. Numerous envoys were sent between Damascus and Ankara, while Erdoğan spoke on the phone with Assad frequently, urging restraint. On 15 June, when Syria’s envoy, Hassan Turkmani, claimed that reports of Syrian abuses were fabrications, Erdoğan rebuffed him, saying that he had seen the YouTube videos with his own eyes and believed them.46 Days later Erdoğan sent his own envoy to Syria, demanding that Assad fire his brother Maher, the ‘thug in chief’. At the centre of Turkey’s approach was a belief in Assad’s image as a frustrated reformer surrounded by bad influences. As one MFA official stated, ‘We knew that the people around Bashar were evil, like the Makhloufs and the wider Assad family, but we thought that Assad himself was not a bad man.’47 Assad was urged to stand in fair elections, which Turkey believed he could win. However, a Syrian official present at some of these talks disputes this, suggesting that Turkey actually agreed with Qatar on favouring a power-sharing deal with the Muslim Brotherhood.48 This is plausible, given the close affinity between the Muslim Brotherhood and the AKP. Another Syrian official claimed that this was something Erdoğan had been urging Assad for years. However, whether Ankara was insisting on the return of the Muslim Brotherhood or free elections, it betrayed a profound misunderstanding of the regime: both represented far too great a concession to have been seriously countenanced.
The 2011 Ramadan assaults proved the breaking point for Ankara. Frustratingly, Assad had implied he was considering Turkey’s advice, buying time, only for the violence to continue. As the assault on Hama raged, on 9 August Davutoğlu spent hours in Damascus. The next day tanks were withdrawn and Erdoğan told the press it was a sign that ‘our initiative is producing results’ – desperately trying to prove that his influence was worth something. Yet within hours the tanks returned and Erdoğan was enraged. He had long seen himself as the senior figure in his relationship with Assad and felt personally betrayed by the dictator’s duplicity.49 Ties were not cut until 21 September, and only in November did Erdoğan formally call for Assad to go, in a speech where he compared him to Hitler, but the die was cast in August 2011. On 23 August the opposition Syrian National Council was formed in Istanbul, dominated by the Muslim Brotherhood and with Ankara’s blessing. Turkey had turned on Assad.
Miscalculations
Why was Ankara unable to persuade Assad? Turkey’s leaders greatly overestimated their influence over and their understanding of Syria. The alliance was built on three components: economic, soft power and personal relationships. The first two proved of little value when trying to pressure an autocratic regime. The mass popularity of Turkish soap operas and Erdoğan’s politics were of little consequence while Syria’s economy was far from dependent on or integrated with Turkey’s and its crony capitalists had far more to lose by abandoning the regime. The personal ties were genuine but Erdoğan mistakenly believed they were stronger than Assad’s other relationships. Assad met as frequently with the Iranians as with the Turks, who offered support without condition and represented a deeper and older alliance. He and his inner circle, moreover, were proud nationalists and unlikely to respond well to angry Turkish demands.
Turkey greatly mistook the nature of Assad’s regime. It is perhaps forgivable to be deceived by a leader believed to be an ally, but there were clear gaps in Turkish knowledge and intelligence. In a sign of the mismatch between the AKP’s regional ambition and its capacity to achieve them, discussed in Chapter 1, Turkey had little institutional expertise on Syria. The MFA had faced westwards for decades and had only recently begun looking south. Only six of the 135 Turkish diplomats working in the Arab world in 2011 spoke Arabic.50 Many MFA officials on the Syria desk had never visited the country. Critics argue that Turkey’s interaction with Syria centred on a specific unrepresentative group, dominated by Aleppo’s Sunni merchants and the Muslim Brotherhood in exile, and too little effort was made to understand the country’s complexities. Erdoğan and Davutoğlu’s critics argue they were arrogant, assuming they knew Syria due to a shared Islamic culture that would somehow compensate for the knowledge gap.51 Soli Özel, a columnist for the Turkish daily Haberturk, argues this led to wishful thinking and a failure to understand that reform for the Syrian regime was a matter of life and death.52
Yet the reasons for Turkey’s failure to influence Assad do not explain its dramatic volte-face. Exasperation is one thing, but why U-turn so dramatically to demanding Assad’s resignation and backing his enemies? Erdoğan, Davutoğlu and other officials understandably emphasised the moral case. However, while their outrage may have been genuine, Turkey’s silence on Bahrain, and its concerns over its Libyan contracts, illustrated that its morality could be flexible. There are wider reasons why Assad was turned on. Many of the structural conditions that had originally pushed Turkey to embrace Assad had recently lessened in importance, and the costs of abandoning him with them. Economically, Syria was now only Turkey’s seventh largest regional market and Turkish business offered little significant pressure to stand by Assad.53 Geopolitically, northern Iraq had stabilised and become a booming market for Turkish goods, reducing Assad’s diplomatic and economic value. Finally, having acquired hero status on the Arab street, Erdoğan no longer needed Assad to boost Turkey’s soft power. Indeed, as the Arab uprisings broke out, his association with Assad was damaging.
In the shorter term, the successful conclusion of parliamentary elections in June 2011, in which the AKP gained 49% of the vote, placed fewer domestic constraints on Erdoğan’s actions. However, it was regional calculations that were the main driver. The Arab Spring elsewhere was turning to Turkey’s advantage. As transitional governments formed in Egypt and Tunisia, the AKP was touted in both the Arab world and the west as a ‘model’ to follow, striking the right balance between Islamism and democracy. Erdoğan saw his popularity in the Arab world reach even greater heights, as he was hailed as the ‘saviour of Islam’ at Cairo airport when he visited in September.54 Keen to preserve this reputation, Turkey wanted to make sure that it remained on ‘the right side of history’ regarding Assad as well. Like western leaders, Turkey shared the miscalculation that Syria’s regime would soon crumble – a former minister later claimed Erdoğan said the crisis would be over within six months.55 This was further infused by an ideological component: Turkey’s leaders drew parallels between the Arab Spring and the AKP’s own earlier struggles with the Kemalist Deep State and, like the AKP, their victory was considered inevitable.56 While they had hoped Assad could be part of the solution, now he was in history’s path.
Erdoğan also saw the Arab Spring as an opportunity to promote a new regional order in Turkey’s favour. Though enjoying strong trade links with both Iran and Saudi Arabia, Davutoğlu and Erdoğan believed Turkey was a more suitable ‘third force’ regional hegemon with its popular Islamic democracy, strong diverse economy and Ottoman heritage. After his June 2011 re-election, Erdoğan’s victory speech revealed these ambitions: ‘Beirut has won as much as İzmir. West Bank, Gaza, Ramallah, Jerusalem have won as much as Diyarbakir. The Middle East, the Caucasus and the Balkans have won, just as Turkey has won.’57 Zero problems had been the first phase of expanding Turkish regional influence, and the Arab Spring – which at that point seemed likely to bring to power like-minded popular moderate Islamist governments – could be the next step. As Davutoğlu stated, Turkey ‘will lead the winds of change in the Middle East.’58 In the same way as Syria under Assad had proven a key gateway to expanding Turkish regional influence in the 2000s, if he could be toppled quickly a new democratic Syria, preferably dominated by the Muslim Brotherhood, could play the same role in the new Turkish-orientated Middle East.
Erdoğan’s defenders argue that Turkey had little choice but to U-turn on Syria, given Assad’s repeated duplicity.59 In contrast, while few of his detractors reproach the condemnation of Assad’s violence, Erdoğan’s rush to support the opposition, cut ties and call for Assad’s departure is criticised. Ilhan Uzgel, for example, argues that Ankara narrowed its options too soon.60 Robins similarly argues that Erdoğan could have proceeded more cautiously, possibly using his relationship with Assad to offer Turkey up as a mediator.61 Turkey’s regional success in the 2000s had partly come from acting as a neutral arbiter, but taking such a decisive side in what increasingly became a regional war cost it this reputation. On the one hand, with the benefit of hindsight it is easy to condemn a strategy based on a swift Assad departure that never came. Erdoğan and Davutoğlu were wrong but, as will be discussed below, they were far from alone. Perhaps Turkey deserves particular criticism for not having better understanding of its neighbour, especially given its boasts to have superior relations with the state, but others were also taken in by Assad’s image as a reformer.
More concerning is why the decisions were made. Clearly a personal dimension was in play. Erdoğan and Davutoğlu were already prone to impulsiveness, and the sense of personal betrayal added to this, possibly ahead of a long-term strategy. Similarly there was an ideological dimension. The belief that the regime would fall swiftly was partly based on a view of the Arab Spring as the inevitable triumph of the masses struggling against military autocrats. Moreover, the desire to utilise the Arab Spring to further regional ambitions greatly affected the decision not only to abandon Assad, for fear of the negative regional connotations of standing by him, but also to immediately switch to the opposition in the hope of a quick transition that Turkey could dominate. While Erdoğan’s critics point to his Islamism as his main ideological crutch, Turkish nationalism was as important.
‘Assad must step aside’
Turkey’s U-turn to support Assad’s opponents was one of two major international developments in the late summer of 2011 that edged Syria closer to civil war. The second was the coordinated announcement by the US, Britain, France, Germany and Canada on 18 August demanding that Assad stand down. At the time this appeared the logical next step in a gradual increase in condemnation. However western leaders, not least in the White House, greatly underestimated the impact of this statement in Syria and the region. To Assad’s enemies and his allies, regime change in Syria was now official western policy and, with the campaign in Libya still under way, many wondered whether an assault on Syria might be next. It hardened Russia and Iran’s resolve to stand by Assad, reviving their fears of American imperial projects. Conversely, it raised expectations in Qatar, Turkey and Saudi Arabia that the US was committed to toppling Assad and might eventually offer whatever resources were needed. Syria’s oppositionists and emerging rebel fighter groups also had their hopes raised. Ultimately, the announcement acted as a conflict escalator. Yet this was not its purpose and was viewed differently in western capitals. Moreover, western leaders, especially the Obama administration, based it on a flawed assessment of the Syrian situation.
It is worth recalling two points about the US approach. Firstly, in 2011 intelligence and expertise on Syria was limited. American penetration of Syria had long been constrained, it being a hostile, pro-Soviet opaque regime. This deteriorated further after a decade of disengagement under George W. Bush, with officials noting that in 2009 the State Department’s Syria desk consisted of one person only.62 Even with Obama’s engagement, Syria remained low down the priority list, with the focus on Assad’s external dealings, not internal matters. The multiple crises of spring 2011 meant further delay in channelling resources towards compensating for this knowledge gap, despite the efforts of Ambassador Robert Ford and others. American understanding of Syria was thus quite unlike that of Egypt, where calling for the President to stand down had eventually worked. While Washington had over thirty years to build up intelligence and leverage over Egypt’s rulers, Syria was out of its sphere of influence and a more unknown quantity.
Secondly, Obama ran a highly centralised foreign policy.63 Numerous observers and former officials noted that there was a ‘cabal’ of advisers holding the greatest influence with the most important in 2011 being Biden, Rice, McDonough, Power, Special Assistant Ben Rhodes, CIA Director John Brennan and Deputy Assistant Tony Blinken. While the President sought advice from government bureaucracy, according to Fred Hof, Obama was comfortable taking decisions without it, and others have expressed frustration at a frequent lack of inter-agency process.64 When he did consult, Obama preferred the Department of Defense (DoD) to the State Department, but the former had less interest in Syria than in long-term allies Egypt and Saudi Arabia. The State Department offered some input, but the White House and Obama’s small group of advisers primarily drove Syria policy. In addition to this it is worth recalling Obama’s domestic pressures. He was up for re-election in November 2012 and his team, many of whom had more domestic than international experience, remained conscious of foreign messaging. Vali Nasr, a former Obama staffer cynically suggested that how Middle East policy played out in the nightly news directed strategy.65
The ‘escalator of pressure’
Early attempts to urge Assad to reform failed. Despite Ankara’s insistence that it could sway Damascus, western leaders shifted from carrot to stick. They found themselves on what one western official called an “escalator of pressure” with Assad.66 A diplomatic punishment was announced and, when it did not change behaviour, a harsher one was adopted a few weeks later, gradually ratcheting up. On 29 April, Obama signed executive order 13572 imposing targeted sanctions on individuals deemed complicit in the killing, including Maher al-Assad and Iran’s IRGC Quds force. The EU created its own list of thirteen sanctioned regime individuals on 9 May and instigated an arms embargo forbidding EU companies from selling Syria weaponry. Assad himself was not sanctioned until 23 May, five days after the US had also added him to its list. These lists would steadily grow, with the EU alone initiating over twenty rounds, freezing the foreign assets of 180 regime individuals and 54 Syrian institutions by the end of 2012.67
Alongside sanctions Britain and France led activity against the regime at the UN, but efforts to push through critical statements at the Security Council were blocked by Russia and China in May and June. Anti-Assad rhetoric was also escalated. On 19 May Obama reiterated that Assad must, ‘lead … transition, or get out of the way’. Hillary Clinton said, on 3 June, that Assad was about to lose legitimacy, on 1 July that he was ‘running out of time’, and finally, after pro-Assad gangs attacked the US embassy in Damascus on 11 July, that he had now ‘lost legitimacy’. In the same speech, she stated, ‘President Assad is not indispensable and we have absolutely nothing invested in him remaining in power.’ This is a curious statement as it implies far more leverage than the US actually had. It suggests that Syria was viewed through the same lens as Egypt: pressure and rhetoric from the US would be sufficient to collapse the regime. Indeed, most western officials interviewed concur that policy was driven by the belief that the regime would be the latest falling ‘domino’ in the Arab Spring. However, as discussed, the structure of the regime was quite different to that of Egypt, being far better coup-proofed and insulated from outside influence. This was a regime that had survived long periods of international isolation and sanctions in the past, notably in the 1980s and 2000s, and also had Iranian advice on ‘sanction-busting’. As Bouthaina Shaaban commented in May, ‘this is a weapon used against us many times’.68
This mischaracterisation of the regime as close to collapse was one of the key flaws of the ‘escalator of pressure’. The second was that it was an escalator: something that had to keep moving up. The logic of escalation was rarely questioned. Western leaders became prisoners of their own rhetoric and, in conjunction with the rapidity of events elsewhere in the region, calling for Assad’s removal appeared the next obvious move.
Our guys in Damascus
In fact, there were leading western officials cautioning that Assad was not about to fall: the ambassadors in Syria. The demand for on the ground intelligence in western capitals understandably increased, and embassy staff were vital in parsing the media hype. Syria’s western diplomatic corps, already close given their small number, cooperated tightly, particularly the ambassadors of the US (Robert Ford), France (Eric Chevallier), and Britain (Simon Collis).69 These three would meet regularly, sometimes with other ambassadors, notably Danish ambassador Christina Markus Lassen, to swap notes, helping to create a united ‘western’ approach. Each engaged with the regime while simultaneously expanding contact with protesters. Given travel restrictions this was mostly limited to Damascus, although the British led a visit to Homs in late April, while Ford and Chevallier famously visited oppositionists in Hama in July (Collis was visiting the UK at the time). This trio expressed sympathy for the uprising from early on. Collis’ reports to London refer to the uprising as a ‘Revolution’ as early as May, while in early July after the US embassy was attacked, Ford referred, on its Facebook page to the pro-Assad mob as ‘mnhebaks’ (we love yous) – a derogatory term used by the opposition.70 This reflected their governments’ polices, irrespective of their personal views. The trip to Hama and, later in September, the attendance by many western ambassadors at a vigil for Ghiyath Mata, a murdered activist, were encouraged by western capitals. Indeed Ford found his visit to Hama widely praised in the US, especially by the anti-Assad Republicans who had delayed his confirmation the year before.71
Yet any personal sympathy that the ambassadors had with the opposition did not sway their analysis, and all three bucked against the notion that Assad’s fall was imminent. Collis, who had been in Damascus the longest, since 2007, wrote to London that several tipping points were required for the regime to fall: major unrest in Damascus, Aleppo and the Kurdish regions; a collapse in the cohesion and effectiveness of the army and security forces; and weakness in the regime’s inner core. In their current absence, the regime could hold on.72 He wrote on 19 July that despite middle-ground Syrians being appalled at the violence, ‘Assad can still probably count on the support of some 30–40% of the population (Alawite and Christian minorities alone account for about half of this).’ Moreover, arguing that the regime’s weakness was the economy, he claimed it could take eighteen months to two years for any sanctions to prompt regime collapse, not the imminent fall expected in western capitals. Chevallier also counselled caution, noting to Paris that Assad was not about to fall and that regime change would take time and be more difficult than the hawkish French press was then suggesting.73 Ford also opposed calling for Assad’s departure, arguing that the US would not be able to bring it about.74
This counsel was overruled. Chevallier was reportedly involved in a verbal ‘brawl’ at the Quai d’ Orsay with Sarkozy’s diplomatic adviser, Nicolas Galey, in early August. Galey, a subscriber to the domino theory that Assad’s fall was inevitable, dismissed Chevallier’s caution. ‘Your information does not interest us,’ he reportedly said, ‘Bashar al-Assad must fall and he will fall.’75 British officials note that Paris, buoyed by its success in Libya and also feeling especially betrayed after Sarkozy had helped bring Assad in from the cold, was particularly impatient. However, ultimately Paris and London both followed Obama in the decision to call for his departure. As one diplomat in Damascus at the time noted, ‘The White House made the decision to call for Assad to go, and so Britain, France and the rest followed. That’s why it happened against our advice.’76
Decision from DC: Assad must go
On 18 August, President Obama announced:
The future of Syria must be determined by its people, but President Bashar al-Assad is standing in their way. His calls for dialogue and reform have rung hollow while he is imprisoning, torturing, and slaughtering his own people. We have consistently said that President Assad must lead a democratic transition or get out of the way. He has not led. For the sake of the Syrian people, the time has come for President Assad to step aside.77
At the same time David Cameron, Sarkozy and German Chancellor Angela Merkel released a joint statement saying, ‘We call on him [Assad] to face the reality of the complete rejection of his regime by the Syrian people and to step aside in the best interests of Syria and the unity of its people.’78 Calling for Assad to go was not a decision taken lightly, and Obama, ever cautious, had resisted for months. He was determined that the Syrian people should ‘own’ their revolution and not be seen to be influenced by the US, especially after Assad’s claims of a foreign conspiracy. However, as with Egypt and Libya, several developments persuaded him.
Firstly, by August Obama’s team were increasingly convinced that Assad was finished. In the debates between Arab Spring idealists and realists within the administration, summer 2011 was the high-water mark of the former’s influence. While officials were at pains throughout the Syria crisis to insist on the individuality of each Arab case, reflecting Obama’s preferred caution and lack of a one-size-fits-all strategy, the idealists saw the Arab Spring as an unstoppable historical force that would eventually sweep aside Assad as it had Mubarak. The considerable differences between the Egyptian and Syrian regimes were glossed over. In fairness, this view was dominant among US allies in Turkey, Britain and France, intelligence reports were briefing that Assad’s fall was nigh, as were Syrian exiles in Washington who argued that a strong statement by the US would prompt an anti-Assad coup. The views of Ford and others warning that Assad might last longer were discounted. Importantly, it was believed that rhetoric and sanctions would be sufficient to push the regime over the edge and certainly nothing like the military commitment of the Libya operation. Indeed, after his statement Obama’s National Security Committee (NSC) did not advise the President to seek military contingency plans from the Pentagon.79
Secondly, the domestic cost of not calling for Assad’s departure was perceived as getting too high. The press took an increasingly critical line and Obama’s team were sensitive to a series of op-eds in the Washington Post. On 22 April US inaction was branded ‘shameful’, while on 1 August Obama was attacked for speaking publicly on the matter only twice since the crisis began. The same piece asked pointedly, ‘Is it any wonder that Mr Assad thinks he can slaughter the people of Hama with impunity?’80 Echoing this belief that the US has the power to influence and shape wherever it wishes, Congressmen challenged the administration to do more. In July, Republican Representative Steve Chabot asked the House Foreign Affairs Subcommittee in Syria, ‘How many must die before we have the courage to stand up and say that Assad is illegitimate and he must go?’81 With an eye on the upcoming election in 2012, Obama’s advisers questioned being left open to such attacks when Assad was going to fall anyway. The need to be on the ‘right side of history’ again was raised, and some feared embarrassment should Assad fall before Obama called for his departure. The legacy of Egypt was again being felt. The White House was not alone in the impression that a longer wait was unpalatable. Then British Deputy Foreign Minister Alistair Burt remarked, ‘We reached a point where you either said something about this or in some way you were implying that he [Assad] could be dealt with even though the killing was mounting up.’82 Though Burt insists media pressure did not influence this decision, British diplomats note how David Cameron demanded more from the Foreign Office after advocacy groups such as Amnesty International and editorials in The Economist urged action.83 While western leaders were no doubt genuinely outraged by Assad’s actions, domestic considerations along with the mistaken belief in Assad’s inevitable fall substantially contributed to the joint statement in August 2011.
Obama’s statement immediately raised concerns in the State Department: he had declared it was US policy to pursue regime change in Syria, but without a clear strategy to achieve this. Possibilities and scenarios had not been discussed with experts beforehand. Moreover, he made the announcement hours before leaving for a ten-day vacation in Martha’s Vineyard, at a time when western policy-makers were holidaying, so how to proceed was not discussed in the inter-agency for weeks. Clinton and Leon Panetta, Gates’ replacement as Secretary of Defence from July, had previously warned that should rhetoric prove insufficient to prompt Assad’s departure, Obama would need to back up his statement with action. Following on from this, State Department Syria experts such as Fred Hof began preparing written strategies suggesting how regime change might be achieved, yet found the White House uninterested.84 As the crisis continued, it would increasingly be those voices that had initially warned that Assad would last longer than expected who pushed for greater American involvement to achieve Obama’s stated goal while the President and his team demurred. Having got on to the escalator of pressure they assumed that calling for Assad to go would be the end point. When he did not fall, they were alarmed to find the escalator still rising and with it the expectation that the US would use military means to achieve its now stated goal.
Had the Obama administration’s assessment proved accurate, and Assad’s fall followed soon after, it would have proven a relatively cost-free diplomatic victory. However, given the US’ significant historical knowledge gap on Syria, the fact that the best informed voices, such as Ford, urged caution but were discounted, and that urgency in pressing for the statement was driven more by internal factors than by what was happening in Syria, it is not surprising that this analysis proved wanting. Even if the idealists’ urging of this course of action might be explained by the heady optimism of the Arab Spring, the administration’s unwillingness to explore contingency plans and possible follow-up actions are more inexcusable.
This mistake had a considerable bearing on the shape of Syria’s civil war. The White House was very cautious in the wording of Obama’s statement, reportedly consulting lawyers to ensure that calling for Assad to ‘stand aside’ did not constitute a legal intent, but such detail mattered little to outside observers.85 Russian and Iranian policy-makers now saw the US weighing in against their ally and redoubled their determination to stand by him. Qatar, Saudi Arabia and Turkey felt their own hostile stances to Assad vindicated, and proceeded on the expectation that Washington was committed to regime change. Syria’s opposition greeted the news with joy. The Guardian reported the hopes raised:
One veteran dissident in Damascus said: ‘I am jubilant. This came at the right time for the street.’ He said protesters were telling him they wanted to dance in the streets. A middle-aged woman in Homs said: ‘More protesters will go out now.’86
When considering the impact of Obama’s statement it is worth recalling Chapter 1’s discussion about the perception of US power in the Middle East. Most Syrians, and indeed Middle Easterners, had long been encouraged to believe the US to be an all-powerful state that can achieve whatever it sets its mind to. The failures in Iraq may have caused some to question this, yet the campaign in Libya revived the image. As the President had come out in open opposition to Assad, it was not unreasonable for the Syrian opposition and their regional supporters to rejoice and expect future help. Paradoxically, the White House may have expected this power projection to be sufficient to cow Assad or scare those around him into a coup. When it failed to do so, the White House was in a dilemma. As shall be seen, Obama had little intention of following up with military action, but to admit that would represent an unacceptable loss of regional prestige. However, in the absence of such communication, Qatar, Turkey and Saudi Arabia would proceed to act in Syria on the assumption that eventually the US would step up.87 Yet this regional dimension does not seem to have been taken into sufficient consideration.
By the end of summer 2011, the different regional actors had formed into the pro- and anti-Assad camps that would come to define the Syrian civil war. Iran and Russia on one side, Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Qatar and the west on the other. Yet much was based on limited knowledge or capacity to follow through on powerful rhetoric, such as Obama’s demand for Assad’s departure, without the intent to enforce it. Yet such positioning served to escalate the divisions within Syria, with each side believing their external patrons were behind them. Rather than act to deter conflict, external actors helped to fan the flames of war.