BEIRUT: In the five months since he was taken hostage by ISIS militants in Arsal, Mohammad Youssef’s son Hussein has called him four times from captivity, begging his father to save him. “Please do whatever you need to do to help us,” his son pleaded the last time Youssef got a call.
“Go to Roumieh if this means we will be freed.”
Youssef had been driving from Bhamdoun to Beirut’s Riad al-Solh, where the families of the now 25 hostages have set up a permanent protest site. He still has no memory of how he managed to reach the capital, he was in shock.
“Every time it’s the same,” he said. “We fall apart.”
In Roumieh prison’s Block B, where Islamists linked to Fatah al-Islam, the Nusra Front, ISIS and other terror-linked groups are housed, the vicissitudes of the hostage crisis have inspired defiance toward prison staff, a security source told The Daily Star. Some have outright refused to appear in weekly Judicial Council hearings in Beirut, believing that somehow ISIS is taking care of their interests from Qalamoun.
“Every time the militants manipulate the minds of the hostage families the inmates feel stronger, like there’s someone looking out for them,” the source said.
While a war of attrition ensues between the Army and jihadis from the Nusra Front and ISIS in Arsal, the families of the 25 servicemen in militant custody and the prisoners wanted freed in a swap deal are beginning to feel that their lives are increasingly intertwined.
For the families every threat from the militant groups results in an emotionally charged rallying call in which demonstrations block the capital’s main arteries for days at a time.
“Our protest is not the result of their threats,” Youssef said one evening, as the winter rains poured outside his tent in the protesters’ camp in Downtown Beirut. “But it is part of the reason we escalate them.”
Youssef said in the beginning they were opposed to a swap deal involving the release of criminals. But the ensuing five months have led to a change of heart. “If this will release our sons they are obliged to do it.”
Of the 25 families, militants have contacted a dozen over the phone, each time relaying the same message.
“My son just screams,” said Aisha Ahmed, mother of Khaled Moqbel Hasan of Fnaydeq. “Then the kidnappers tell us we should hold the government responsible, that the government knows what they want.”
“How do you expect a mother to respond when her son’s life is being threatened?” she asked. Last month Ahmed was permitted to see her son in Arsal. She was told by ISIS militants that, contrary to media reports at that time, no progress had been made on the hostage file. “I just don’t know who to believe anymore.”
According to psychologist Ghina Ismail, who specializes in trauma, the experience of Youssef and Ahmed suggests that they are enduring virtual captivity, in which the trauma associated with captivity is not endured by the hostages alone but extends to family members.
“Meaning that in practicality, the families are trapped by the constant threats and intimidation, such as random phone calls that put pressure on them to act in a certain way,” Ismail explained.
“There’s an element of uncertainty which is complicated by several factors in the Arsal situation – not knowing whom to turn to, or who to trust, and the overall sense of impunity exercised by the kidnapper, something the kidnapper actually wants to instill,” she said.
Political division over how to proceed with the hostage file has prevented the government from taking a firm stance moving forward.
The connection between the fate of their sons and the release of Islamist prisoners might be another perception that militants want to implant. “Manipulative people in general, whether terrorists or not, want to instill a sense of confusion or horror, of blaming oneself or one’s kin, to forward their own agenda. So the agenda here is that ‘we want you to free prisoners in Roumieh’ so people start thinking, this is what they want, without questioning how accurate it might be.”
Prison staff in Roumieh have been cautious around Block B inmates as a result of the hostage crisis, the security source said. Three weeks ago Islamist inmates scheduled to appear for weekly hearings began refusing to go.
“It’s the ones who are expected to get a death or life sentence,” the source said.
“They are in a place where they know no one will force them.”
Calling on the special forces to oblige prisoners to attend trials, which requires transporting them to Beirut, though requested by the prison, was deemed by superiors to be out of the question, the source said. “Such a thing requires political cover, which we don’t have.”
“It’s because they fear something will happen someplace else,” the source added, alluding to Arsal, where ISIS and Nusra militants are positioned. “It’s all connected.”
Their reluctance to attend trials, the source added, stemmed from the belief that ISIS would eventually broker their release. “It’s also a way of buying extra time, to see what the outcome of the negotiation will be.”
“They think it’s better to be detained and not convicted if there is a chance they will be set free.”
But perhaps the effect of ISIS’ strategy in Lebanon is felt most by the residents of Arsal. Suhad Ezzedine, a schoolteacher, said living in the town was akin to being stuck between two fires. “The militants to one side by the border with Syria, and the Lebanese Army on the other, which has surrounded the town with checkpoints,” she said.
Residents of Bazzalieh have set up checkpoints on the road to Arsal. “If you don’t have a friend there, it’s impossible to leave,” she said.
In the meantime Arsalis grow weary of what might happen next.
“People here are going through a psychological war,” she said.
“In class I have to keep reassuring the kids that there is nothing wrong and that the Army is defending us. But they hear the sounds of bombs coming from the outskirts and start to cry.”
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