It is December 11. Friends, I apologize for my long silence. It's just that with the onset of winter I fell ill and it was incredibly difficult for me to write or even speak. Besides, I had almost no free time. But now is the right moment to tell you a story I've been meaning to share.
I've already mentioned that working as a journalist gave me the opportunity to visit places I had only dreamed of: the fort in Gaza, where Napoleon stayed during his Egyptian campaign, the temple city of Lalish in Iraq, sacred to all Yezidis. As a journalist, I also got to meet my favorite musician, the legendary Chicago bluesman Louie Bell and many other fascinating people.
And I also happened to meet the Syrian dictator Bashar al-Assad. As it turned out, meeting with him wasn't all that difficult. It was 2012. The war in Syria was just beginning. And he was as open to the press as possible. At that time I was working in the Middle East
decided to take a chance by sending a request for an interview to the Syrian Ministry of Information. And they approved it. There were a few unexpected challenges, though. For instance, I did not own a suit and had to borrow one from a foreign colleague.
A government official I coordinated the interview with lent me a tie, and even the shoes weren't mine. I borrowed those too. So I showed up entirely dressed in other people's clothes. The only time I looked worse was when I unexpectedly found myself transported from the trenches
directly to the office of the Kyrgyzstan president. I was wearing dirty cargo pants with knee pads and t-shirt featuring a frog smoking a massive joint. If you are interested, I'll tell you that story separately someday. But for now back to al-Assad.
We met at his residence in Damascus. I was escorted there under the watchful eye of local intelligence agents after a thorough search. The residence, which I assume is one of many, was built in a European style. You know, a small mansion like the ones you'd find in Berlin or Vienna. Al-Assad himself opened the door. He spoke English fluently, much better than I do. But that wasn't what struck me most.
What truly surprised me that this bloody tyrant, a man who mercilessly ordered the killing and torture of unarmed people, was a total hand-packed man. Along with us in the residence was his media consultant Luna Alshibli, whom I already knew as the person who had approved my interview request.
Everyone around referred to her exclusively as "Madame Luna". As we talked, she wandered around the room, sat at Aslet's computer and gave him advice in Arabic.
At times it seemed as though he was waiting for her instructions. He did not look very confident overall. When he spoke in slogans ranting about global terrorism, how he was the sole defender against it and similar nonsense, he seemed to come alive. He probably even believed his own propaganda.
But when the conversation shifted to other topics, he wilted and his already small chin seemed to disappear entirely. He struck me as a confused man who did not belong in his position. Don't get me wrong, I'm not defending him in any way. Not at all. He's a criminal who has killed countless people and nearly destroyed his own country. And at the same time he was insecure and it was
obvious that his parents did not care much for him. It was his brother, Basil, who was supposed to become president. Basil was chosen by his father, President Hafez al-Assad, as the sole successor to the throne. But Basil died in a car accident and Hafez began molding Bashar into the new dictator. I think his extreme cruelty
partly stems from his need to prove to everyone that he was worthy of the seat he was placed in, that he was a genuine Middle Eastern despot who did not care about human lives and the end of his reign as a dictator is fitting.
I congratulate the Syrian people on the downfall of a horrific dictatorship. And I remind you, if you like what I'm doing, you can support me and my family. All the details are in the episode description. Thank you.