FOR all the recent
diplomatic drum-rolls, Syrians have no illusions that an end to their misery is
in sight. A plan for a second big peace conference in Geneva, floated six
months ago, was boosted in September after Syria’s government, caught out
killing more than a thousand civilians with chemical weapons, agreed to give
them up. But since then hopes for serious talks have kept sinking into
quicksand. On November 5th Lakhdar Brahimi, the joint envoy of the UN and the
Arab League, conceded that the Geneva conference will not be held this month as
previously promised. Diplomats mutter gloomily about further delays. December
or even January are vaguely mentioned. The fact is that hardliners, both inside
Bashar Assad’s regime and within the motley ranks of the rebels, and among
foreign sponsors backing both sides, remain more determined not to budge than
the moderate voices that the talks were meant to empower.
The Syrian National
Coalition, the main opposition body in exile, has been flip-flopping over
whether to attend talks. It wants a guarantee that Mr Assad will not take part
even in a transitional government. The regime refuses to countenance this.
Moreover, Mr Assad has felt stronger since America failed to carry out a threat
to punish the regime with missiles for its mass-murderous sarin-gas attack on
August 21st. The ensuing deal to destroy Syria’s chemical weapons, now being
carried out by UN experts, has bolstered Mr Assad’s legitimacy and reassured
him that the West’s sole focus is not his overthrow.
In any case, getting
those two parties to the table is no recipe for success. Ever more Syrians
reject the opposition coalition’s authority, seeing it as a gaggle of
self-aggrandising exiles who have failed to supply arms or aid to fighters on
the ground. On November 4th one of the most senior pro-Western rebel commanders
in northern Syria
resigned in frustration, citing divisions among fighting factions and the
fecklessness of the national coalition as reasons, though he was one of the few
leaders still acknowledging its role. On October 15th 50 groups, most of them
Islamist-leaning, announced that they no longer recognised its authority.
Zahran Alloush, leader of the Army of Islam, an umbrella of rebel groups around
Damascus, said that the coalition would become an enemy—“the same as Bashar
Assad’s regime”—if it took part in talks in Geneva; 11 days later a further 19
rebel groups said negotiations with the regime would amount to “treason”.
As big an obstacle is
disagreement over whether to invite Iran , which backs the regime and
has helped it build a paramilitary force to bolster the army. Whereas America
and Russia, which back the opposition and regime respectively, have grown
closer in wishing for a compromise to end the war, this is not true of the two
sides’ most determined backers, Saudi Arabia and Iran. The Saudis see an axis
of Shia mischief, stretching from Tehran through
Baghdad and Damascus
to Hizbullah in Lebanon , as
their biggest threat, and Syria
as its linchpin. Iran
has invested billions to prop up Mr Assad’s regime and to retain a vital link
to Hizbullah. It is far more willing to stomach a conflict that has left at
least 110,000 dead than is the West, whose sense of urgency is sharpened by
evidence of an increase in jihadist muscle among the rebels and a worsening
humanitarian crisis.
Tensions over Syria
have risen between America and the Saudis, leading to even more fragmentation
among the opposition to Mr Assad. Saudi Arabia, infuriated by America’s loss of
nerve—as it saw it—over punishing the Syrian regime with missile strikes after
its sarin attack, has embarked on a project to create a new national army in
the south of Syria rather than working through the Supreme Military Command,
the coalition’s armed wing based in Turkey. For months it has reportedly been
training 5,000 rebels in Jordan, with help from French and more recently
Pakistani forces. The Army of Islam also appears to be getting more Saudi
support.
As the number of
actors in Syria’s war multiplies, prospects for an early resolution grow
dimmer. A year ago the conflict seemed a straightforward case of rebels fighting
an embattled regime. But the rebels are now often as wary of each other as of
Mr Assad’s forces. Kurdish fighters, in a de facto tactical alliance with the
regime, have purged swathes of the north-east from hostile Islamist groups.
Salafist and jihadist factions have increased their presence not just in the
north of the country close to Turkey but also around Damascus. The Saudi effort
may further undercut and fragment the opposition. But the regime, too, now
relies more on factions over which it has limited control, including
local-defence militias and Shia fighters brought in from Iran, Lebanon and
Iraq.
Meanwhile, the misery
deepens remorselessly. Polio has broken out again, some 14 years after its
eradication. Severe malnutrition is reported, especially among children in
areas besieged by government forces. The UN says two in five Syrians now need
emergency aid. Neighbouring countries warn they can no longer cope with the
scale of the refugee influx, the most dramatic—by some estimates—since the second
world war. Displaced Syrians now make up nearly a quarter of Lebanon’s
population.
As diplomats talk
shop, the war continues on the ground. Mr Assad’s troops have made advances in
the north, recently retaking Safira, a town south-east of Aleppo, close to a
chemical-weapons facility. This has restored a key supply route from Damascus.
But rebels have beaten back government advances elsewhere and made some of
their own. Until more of the parties inside and outside are ready to
compromise, a lethal stalemate will persist.
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