[Marxism] Isis Inc: Syria's mafia style gas deals with jihadis

Michael Karadjis mkaradjis at gmail.com
Thu Oct 15 21:02:07 MDT 2015


Isis Inc: Syria's mafia style gas deals with jihadis
http://www.ft.com/intl/cms/s/0/92f4e036-6b69-11e5-aca9-d87542bf8673.html#axzz3oe39RZiQ

Erika Solomon in Beirut and Ahmed Mhidi, an independent journalist based 
on the Turkish border
The need for energy drives Assad regime into a deadly game where 
state-run company staff are pawns

After four years of war, Ahmed thought he had finally been given a break 
when he landed a job at Syria’s national gas company. Then he was 
assigned his new supervisors: the militant group, Isis.
For $80 a month, the 25-year-old petroleum engineering graduate from 
Deir Ezzor spent a nightmarish year working at the Tuweinan gas plant — 
one of several that have in effect become joint ventures between 
President Bashar al-Assad’s government and the world’s most notorious 
jihadi group.
The plant is not far from a military base where Isis months earlier had 
killed dozens of soldiers and displayed their heads on spikes. “It was 
frightening, but I didn’t have a choice,” says Ahmed in a phone 
interview. Like all employees interviewed, he asked to change his name 
for his family’s safety. “For people like me, you basically have no 
other work opportunities in Syria.”
Isis and the Assad regime remain battleground enemies, but on Syria’s 
gasfields the need for electricity has forced them into a Faustian 
bargain.
Gas supplies 90 per cent of Syria’s power grid, on which Isis and the 
Assad regime depend. Isis controls at least eight power plants in Syria, 
including three hydroelectric facilities and the country’s largest gas 
plant. The regime has companies that know how to run them.
Syrian activists and western officials have long accused the regime of 
making secret oil deals with Isis, which controls nearly all of Syria’s 
petroleum-producing east. But an FT investigation shows co-operation is 
strongest over the gas that generates Syria’s electricity. Interviews 
with over a dozen Syrian energy employees have revealed agreements that 
are less about cash than about services — something they may find more 
valuable than money.
The business deals do not translate into a truce. The two sides 
continually attack one another’s employees and infrastructure. The 
regime points to these clashes as proof that such understandings do not 
exist. In a written statement, Syria’s Ministry of Oil and Natural 
Resources said: “There is no co-ordination with the terrorist groups 
regarding this matter.” But it acknowledged some of its employees work 
under Isis “for the sake of preserving the security and safety of these 
facilities”.
But others describe the fighting as part of a struggle for better terms, 
where neither seeks to destroy the other. “Think of it as tactical 
manoeuvres to improve leverage,” said the owner of one Syrian energy 
company, who met the FT but asked not to be named. “This is 1920s 
Chicago mafia-style negotiation. You kill and fight to influence the 
deal, but the deal doesn’t end.”
Deadly game
The pawns in this deadly game are employees of state-run energy 
companies and the private groups they contract.
Instead of worrying over valves and pipelines, Ahmed spent much of his 
time at Tuweinan parsing a high-stakes mind game with his militant 
overseers. They beat workers regularly, and even killed one in front of 
his colleagues.
“The worst part is knowing that once you’re there, you belong to no 
 one,” he said. “To both the regime and to Isis, you become 
untrustworthy.”
Like Ahmed, most workers sent to Isis territory are from Syria’s Sunni 
Muslim majority, who drove the revolt that spawned Syria’s brutal civil 
war against the Assad family and elites from their minority Alawite sect 
that have dominated the state. Many members of Syria’s minorities have 
supported Mr Assad — especially since Isis overtook the rebellion and 
branded non-Sunnis infidels.
Marwan, another Sunni engineering graduate who worked for the Syrian Gas 
Company before fleeing the country this summer, says only minorities and 
Sunnis with good political connections can secure jobs in 
government-controlled areas. Less fortunate employees find little 
sympathy from the state company if they try to avoid a posting in an 
Isis-controlled plant.
“If you try and complain, they say, ‘Forget about it. Trust me, it’s 
better in the Isis areas, people are happier there’,” Marwan, a 
bespectacled 25-year-old, told the FT.
Workers say that in agreements between Isis and the regime, the Syrian 
state and private gas companies pay and feed their employees and supply 
equipment to the facilities. The two sides divide the electricity 
produced from the methane heavy “dry gas”, while Isis gets the fuel 
products made from the plants’ liquid gas.
For example, employees at Tuweinan say its gas is sent to the Isis-held 
Aleppo thermal power plant. When facilities are working — there are 
frequent outages due to the instability in the area — the Tuweinan deal 
nets the regime 50mw of electricity each day. Isis takes 70mw.
At most plants where the two sides co-operate, Isis gives its daily 
output of liquid petroleum or cooking gas, and condensate — used for 
generators — to its own members or sells it to locals. At Tuweinan, 
unstable conditions mean it currently produces about 300 barrels of 
condensate but no cooking gas.
Tuweinan is partly run by the Syrian company Hesco, whose owner, George 
Haswani, is under EU sanctions on suspicion of dealing with the regime 
and Isis. Several workers said Hesco sends Isis 15m Syrian lira (about 
$50,000) every month to protect its equipment, which is worth several 
million dollars.

Michel Haswani, the owners’ son and a manager at Hesco, denies this. He 
said that claims the company pays Isis or communicates with it in any 
way are “not true and imprecise”. But he says that Isis was “partly” 
running the plant.
Isis enforcement
Isis installs “emirs” who monitor operations and negotiate with the 
regime through mediators. There is an emir for the plant, a religious 
emir and another from the Hisba, the group’s morality police. Workers 
say the Hisba emir at Tuweinan, known as Sheikh Haseeb, patrolled the 
plant to enforce strict Islamic practice. Anyone breaking the rules 
would receive 75 lashes.
Sheikh Haseeb also allowed gunmen to threaten employees. They 
particularly targeted the plant’s two dozen Christians, even though 
workers say Hesco had already paid Isis a poll tax for them in gold. 
“One guy pointed his knife at an engineer saying, ‘By God we will 
slaughter you like a sheep,’” one Hesco employee recalled in an 
interview via WhatsApp. “I never saw him or any of the other Christian 
employees again.”
The director of operations at Tuweinan, Taha al-Ali, was known as the 
Syrian Gas Company’s mediator with Isis. A pious man, he was popular 
with his colleagues, but workers say Isis members suspected him of being 
a regime collaborator.
When the emir discovered that gas was being diverted to Arak, a plant 
then held by the regime but now under Isis control, he accused Mr Ali of 
stealing for the Assad government. He was dragged away by guards. 
Workers say he returned disheveled three months later, on the day they 
were forced to witness his execution.
“He was accused of mocking Islam and being a loyalist of the regime,” 
said one colleague who recounted the event in a telephone interview. 
“The gunmen shot him in the head, one bullet each. Then Sheikh Haseeb 
came up and shot him in the stomach. It was terrifying.”
Workers say Tuweinan has continued to function despite the violence. But 
slowly the number of workers has dropped from 1,500 to about 300 as many 
have fled.
Many regime supporters insist these dealings are necessary to preserve 
infrastructure and keep the lights on, and some agreements are 
extensions of pre-existing deals made with rebel groups that controlled 
the areas before Isis took over last summer. “There’s no conspiracy, but 
as the regime guys say, it’s necessary complicity,” said the Syrian 
energy company owner.
Another oil company official who works with the Syrian regime, says 
juggling these deals has become a preoccupation for the oil ministry.
“Before it was [rebel groups] Jabhat al-Nusra or the Islamic Front. 
Nowadays it’s representatives for Isis,” he told the FT in Beirut.
Not all Isis-controlled plants are as miserable as Tuweinan. Employees 
say treatment is better at the “Conoco” plant in eastern Deir Ezzor. 
Syria’s biggest gas producer, the plant was named for the US company 
that first developed it. Employees say its emir, Abu Abdulrahman 
al-Jazrawi, is a Saudi Arabian with years of experience who holds 
training sessions and gives workers a barrel of condensate each month in 
addition to the state salary. A barrel can sell for about $100 — often 
more than their wages.
Many workers also say that even finding work at regime-controlled 
facilities is no guarantee of safety, because they are targeted by the 
jihadis. Marwan worked at the Ebla plant in government-controlled 
Faruqlus, near Homs, where Isis blew up pipelines and set off a car bomb 
that killed his manager in April.
“Every day, we went over evacuation plans,” he said. “I’m Sunni — if I 
fled too quickly, the Alawites would accuse me of being a conspirator. 
If I waited too long, Isis could catch me.”
The nearby Shaer gasfield, which produces nearly half Syria’s 
electricity, was taken over by Isis twice in 2014 before the regime 
recaptured it. Everyone working there disappeared and is presumed dead, 
according to Marwan and other employees.
When nearby Palmyra fell to Isis this summer, Marwan says many of his 
friends working at Hayyan, near Shaer, wanted to flee. “The army wouldn’t 
let them. They said who ever tried to run will be shot dead.”
Back at Tuweinan, Ahmed found events like Mr Ali’s killing too much to 
bear. “He was one of the few people I’ve met in life I would say was an 
amazing human being,” he said. A few months later, he and some other 
workers smuggled themselves across the border to Turkey, crossed the 
Mediterranean, and trekked to Germany. All say they are now considered 
fugitives for abandoning state posts.
Officials at the plant have been unable to find someone willing to 
replace Mr Ali. But the deal goes on.




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