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ALEPPO ARCHBISHOPS' KIDNAPPING

Kidnapping of the archbishops of Aleppo: who wanted to make Boulos Yazigi and Youhanna Ibrahim disappear? | 1/3

Who wanted to make these two men of faith disappear? Was it a radical Islamist group? A gang motivated by money? The regime itself? Read the first episode of our exclusive three-part investigation into the abduction of the archbishops of Aleppo, Boulos Yazigi and Youhanna Ibrahim. 

Kidnapping of the archbishops of Aleppo: who wanted to make Boulos Yazigi and Youhanna Ibrahim disappear? | 1/3

Greek Orthodox Archbishop of Aleppo Boulos Yazigi and Syriac Orthodox Archbishop Youhanna Ibrahim. (Credit: Jaimee Haddad)

On April 17, about 15 people gathered in the conference room on the second floor of the Sofitel in Beirut. Only their clothing distinguished them. Priests and bishops, representing nine Eastern Churches, greeted each other and discussed current events over coffee with Lebanese ministers or their delegates.

Behind the tables—where religious figures sat on the left and politicians on the right—stood portraits of the two archbishops of Aleppo, Greek Orthodox Boulos Yazigi and Syriac Orthodox Youhanna Ibrahim, bearing the inscription : "We do not forget, nor do we remain silent." The speakers, invited by the Orthodox Meeting, took turns addressing an issue that had long faded from public attention.

On April 22, 2013, two Syrian religious leaders were kidnapped in the province of Aleppo. The incident sent shockwaves through the Eastern Churches and resonated far beyond Syria. From Pope Francis to Muslim clerics in the region, from Lebanon to Greece and from France to Qatar, the abduction was firmly condemned.

Eleven years later, the investigation into their disappearance has not advanced an inch. Many intermediaries, backed by half of the region’s intelligence services, have tried to unravel the mystery—to no avail. Officially, they all hit a dead end. No one knows if they are dead or alive. No one knows who is behind their abduction.

Why them? Why did these two prominent representatives of the Eastern Churches vanish without any group claiming responsibility or demanding a ransom? Why did it happen at a time when the outcome of the Syrian war—then in its second year—was uncertain?

"It's bigger than what we can imagine. We can't talk about it."

Some compare this mystery to the fate of the renowned Shiite Imam and founder of the Amal movement, Moussa Sadr, who disappeared in 1978. But this often-cited analogy suggests we may never uncover the full truth. "It's bigger than what we can imagine. We can't talk about it," a Levantine cleric confided, speaking on condition of anonymity.

Indeed, the topic still provokes hesitation, abrupt silences, and at times, warnings. "It’s such a sensitive issue that it’s better left untouched," the cleric told L'Orient-Le Jour. "It involves people’s lives... and yours." For the first time since their disappearance, L'Orient-Le Jour has reconstructed much of the puzzle—though a definitive answer remains elusive.

To conduct this unprecedented investigation, we interviewed more than 20 individuals close to the missing bishops, including religious, political, diplomatic, security, and intellectual sources. Some agreed to speak only under the condition of anonymity. However, despite repeated requests for over a year, the Greek Orthodox and Syriac Orthodox Patriarchates never responded.

Prelude

It was the brisk winter of 2013. The battle for Aleppo raged between loyalist forces positioned in the east and rebel forces in the west. In mid-January, the bodies of dozens of young men were found in the Qoueiq River, which runs through the Bustan al-Qasr neighborhood.

The opposition accused the Damascus regime of carrying out summary executions against civilians. As during the Lebanese Civil War, kidnappings by both sides were rampant. The country’s main and back roads were dotted with checkpoints. Travel was, at best, interminable and, at worst, life-threatening.

"In its modern history, Aleppo has not experienced such critical and painful moments as in recent weeks. Christians have been attacked and kidnapped in a monstrous manner, and their relatives have paid large sums for their release," Archbishop Youhanna Ibrahim told Reuters in September 2012. He had hit the nail on the head. A few weeks before his and Boulos Yazigi’s disappearance, another kidnapping would set the stage for this story.

It was Feb. 9, 2013. Father Maher Mahfouz was passing through Aleppo to visit his sick mother. Afterward, he was to return to Saint George Monastery of the Greek Orthodox Church in Wadi Nassara, just a few kilometers from the famous Krak des Chevaliers. Meanwhile, Armenian-Catholic priest Michael Kayyal—only 26 years old—was on his way to Beirut Airport. Along with their Maronite counterpart, Charbel Daourat, the three men boarded a public bus departing from Aleppo, heading toward Kafroun in the Tartus Governorate. Checkpoints were everywhere. A few kilometers from Saraqeb, on the highway connecting Aleppo to Damascus—then controlled by government forces—the vehicle was stopped by unidentified armed men. They ordered the first two clergymen, identifiable by their cassocks, to get off.

Luckily, Father Charbel was dressed in civilian clothes and escaped the kidnappers' vigilance. "Our brother Michael Kayyal had just celebrated his first year as a priest. He was supposed to fly to Rome that day," Armenian-Catholic Patriarch Raphael Minassian told L'Orient-Le Jour from his office in Beirut in November 2023. "We still don't know who kidnapped them, but I think there is an unknown power, a fifth column. It brings death, but it cannot dominate the spirit," he said evasively.

Armenian-Catholic priest Michael Kayyal and Greek Orthodox Priest Maher Mahfouz. (Credit: The US Department of State)

At the time, the two young clerics' kidnapping almost went unnoticed. The local press barely mentioned it. According to a 2018 report by the Assyrian Monitor for Human Rights entitled "The Good Shepherd" — which details the violence and brutality against priests in Syria since the beginning of the civil war —, "informed sources close to the government" claimed they were abducted by an extremist Islamist group. However, "the surviving priest recounted that these men had a coastal accent," explained Jamil Diarbakerli, executive director of this Sweden-based NGO and the nephew of Youhanna Ibrahim.

Half an hour after the kidnapping, the abductors contacted Father Michael's brother, demanding a ransom of 15 million Syrian pounds (over $200,000 at the time) and the release of "15 [unspecified] detainees" from the regime's prisons, claiming no affiliation. The family agreed to pay.

Strange developments followed. The hostage-takers changed their stance: They now only wanted the money. For two months, negotiations were conducted by the Greek Orthodox Patriarchate in Damascus, and the ransom was eventually dropped to one million pounds. "It was supposedly paid. The Church was looking for someone who could go to opposition territory to retrieve the priests, so Archbishop Youhanna Ibrahim volunteered," Fouad Eliaa, his friend of 30 years and the only survivor of the bishops' kidnapping, told L’Orient-Le Jour.

"This wasn't something new for us. We had done it dozens of times before."

The cleric was no stranger to such endeavors. Leveraging his good relations within the regime and among the opposition, he used his position and diplomatic skills to navigate in this fratricidal struggle. Fouad Eliaa often accompanied him on these kinds of "operations," which involved jumping into a car to retrieve hostages.

"This wasn't something new for us. We had done it dozens of times before. The officers of the Free Syrian Army knew him, and the regime was systematically kept informed," he recounted. The two men have known each other since 1980, the year when this schoolteacher was released from a one-year prison sentence for opposing Hafez al-Assad's regime. "My uncle's fame extended beyond our small Syriac Orthodox community. He was considered the archbishop of all Christians and had very good relations with other religious groups. When the revolution broke out, he didn't sever ties with those who participated; they were his friends," explained Jamil Diarbakerli.

One last photograph

The mission to recover the two priests was scheduled for Monday, April 22, 2013. Archbishop Ibrahim meet with Syrian army officers the day before to inform them of the expedition. Less than a 100 kilometers away in Antioch, the Greek Orthodox archbishop Boulos Yazigi was concluding his pastoral visit in Turkey and attempting to return to Aleppo. Through a series of circumstances, he would join the convoy.


The meeting was set at the Bab al-Hawa border crossing. Youhanna Ibrahim and his friend Fouad Eliaa were about to leave Aleppo in a small gray car driven by Deacon Fathallah Kaboud. But to cross rebel-held areas safely, the cleric needed solid support. That support came in the form of Abderrahmane Allaf, a lawyer who was then head of the Supreme Judicial Council within the opposition. "We had known each other for a long time. He called me that morning and said, 'I trust only you.' So I brought along my son and an armed man responsible for our protection," recounted the jurist, exiled in Turkey. The kidnappers demanded that the archbishop come alone at the rendezvous point, but Allaf advised against it. They were to go together. The two cars followed each other to the Turkish border and picked up Bishop Yazigi.

En route, the convoy passed through checkpoints of the Free Syrian Army (FSA) with no issues. "The FSA men respected Youhanna Ibrahim; they welcomed him very warmly," said Allaf. In Sarmada, a city in the Idlib province, Bishop Ibrahim was supposed to meet the kidnappers of the two priests. "They gave us one meeting point, then another. We searched the entire city," remembered the lawyer.

"It was a decoy; no one showed up. They deceived us over the phone, so we decided to return to Aleppo," added Fouad Eliaa. Before parting ways, the group stopped at Allaf's farm in Hawar, a small village in the countryside. The deacon took a final photograph with Abderrahmane Allaf's son's camera. The two bishops smiled.

The last photo taken by deacon and driver Fathallah Kabboud, the day of the kidnapping. Archbishop Youhanna Ibrahim and Archbishop Boulos Yazigi are surrounded by lawyer Abderrahmane Allaf (center), his son (left) and Fouad Eliaa (right). (Credit: Abderrahmane Allaf)

The two cars then separated at the FSA checkpoint in Kfar Dael. The archbishops' vehicle had to cross a "no man's land" a few kilometers to Mansoura before finally arriving at the Syrian army checkpoint. On a busy road, 500 meters away, a large 4x4 forced them to pull over to the side. Four armed men pointed their assault rifles at the passengers. The assailants had "faces from the East, Chechen or Kyrgyz type," uttered no words and communicated only through gestures.

"They pulled out the deacon, who fled toward the army post. I protested, but they forced me to get out by threatening me with a rifle and grenades. Then they stole the vehicle with the archbishops and sped off towards Kfar Dael," recounted the survivor. Left on the side of the road, the former teacher chose to head back in the opposite direction of the deacon, toward the opposition checkpoint.

After over an hour, he arrived in Hawar, at Allaf's place, who hurried to question the FSA fighters stationed at the Kfar Dael checkpoint. The SUV and the priests' car had arrived in haste before them. "It was the first time our men had seen these guys; they were suspicious," he said.

According to the testimonies he gathered, a scuffle ensued as Archbishop Ibrahim tried to escape from the car. Caught by the collar, he barely had time to throw his ID card out the window, shouting "ya wladi" (my children), addressing the FSA soldiers, before the two vehicles disappeared into the dust.

The deacon was found dead, shot in the forehead less than a kilometer from the abduction site. He had been heading towards loyalist positions, between buildings in the al-Rashideen complex. "From the moment he fled until I left the area, I didn't hear any gunfire, so I don't think it was the kidnappers," added Fouad Eliaa.

No leads, no clues

The official Syrian news agency SANA was the first to report the information, stating that the two bishops fell into the hands of a "terrorist group" (terminology used by the regime to refer to any opposition group) while "conducting humanitarian work." This announcement sent shockwaves within the Churches in Syria and Lebanon. Leaving the Orthodox Patriarch of Antioch and the East devastated. This was for good reason: Youhanna Yazigi, who had been elected just a few months earlier under the name John X, is Boulos Yazigi's brother. Could it be that he was directly targeted through the kidnapping?

The next day, Pope Francis was among of the first to react, followed by the Orthodox Church of Moscow, the various patriarchs of the Eastern Churches and representatives of Muslim communities in Lebanon.

The head of the Greek Orthodox Church, John X Yazigi, during his enthronement. (Credit: The patriarchy)

There was a flurry of activity in the offices of Lebanese politicians. Members of Parliament, ministers, the Prime Minister and the President at the time, Michel Sleiman, all denounced the kidnapping, calling for their immediate release. Sleiman quickly contacted his Turkish counterpart, Abdullah Gül, hoping his intelligence services in opposition-held areas had seen or heard something.  "We knocked on every embassy's door, but there were never any leads, no clues about potential sponsors or evidence of their survival or death. The Turks told us they knew nothing, just like the Syrians. And since the incident concerned a small Christian minority, no one seemed to care, especially the Westerners," Habib Afrem, president of the Syriac League in Lebanon, still denounces today. For the opposition, the timing of the affair couldn’t have been worse. The Free Syrian Army, which encompassed a range of rebel factions, was quick to react in the Western press. It asserted its total innocence and vehemently denounced this act.

One man's phone never stopped ringing: Syrian, Lebanese, Qatari, Greek and French leaders or personalities took turns on the line. He is a Greek Orthodox from Qatana, a small town in the Damascus suburbs. He had been in exile in Paris for two years. But above all, he is a long-standing opponent of the regime. As president of the Syrian National Council — a political authority formed in September 2011 that at the time brought together around 30 opposition groups — he is the number one political figure in the rebellion. "It was my responsibility to know the truth; I immediately took the matter in my own hand," Georges Sabra told L’Orient-Le Jour.

The president of the Syrian National Council, Georges Sabra. The photo was taken in Istanbul in July 2013. (Credit: AFP archive photo)

The confusion led to false leads. On April 23, the French Christian association L’Œuvre d’Orient announced the release of the bishops, Claiming they were at the Saint Elijah Church in Aleppo, based on reports from 'Christians on the ground." This statement was immediately denied by the Greek Orthodox archdiocese of the city. "We were devastated to have announced this incorrect information, especially since this tragedy had deeply affected us, as we felt it was a vulnerability for all Christian communities," recounted Director of L’Œuvre d’Orient Bishop Pascal Gollnisch. The association was not the only one to jump the gun. "We were clinging to any hope, and we believed in this hypothesis, but after contacts with Qatar and Saudi Arabia, we knew it was false," recalled Georges Sabra, who also announced their swift release.

"We were clinging to any hope."

Abderrahmane Allaf and Fouad Eliaa were the last to have seen the bishops before their disappearance. They combed the region for more than 10 days. "We left no stone unturned. But I quickly realized that it couldn't have been someone from our side because the abduction took place too close to the Syrian army," said the lawyer. "The revolutionaries had no interest in committing such a crime. None. I wasn't a representative of the FSA, but this man of faith came to us, and he trusted us," he added.

Through our investigation, clues helped refine the leads. On the day of the events, the kidnappers released the other two passengers, Fouad Eliaa and Fathallah Kabboud, in the car and only seized the two archbishops. "That shows they had information and clear orders to select their targets," said the president of the Syrian National Council.

Who wanted to make these two men of faith disappear? A radical Islamist group? A gang motivated by money? The regime itself? All possibilities were considered. But the fact that no one ever claimed responsibility for the kidnapping or demanded money or a prisoner exchange clouds the true motive of the crime.

Fouad Eliaa during an interview in August 2022. (Credit: SyriaTV)

In this case full of mysteries, one name kept coming up in conversations: Abbas Ibrahim. Just a few days after the abduction, the file landed on the head of General Security's desk at the request of the Greek Orthodox Church. He was the man for the job: An army general, former head of the counter-terrorism and espionage department in the Southern branch of the intelligence services and above all known for playing a leading role in an earlier mediation related to the Syrian crisis.

Five months before the archbishops' abduction, on Nov. 30, 2012, 21 young Lebanese and Palestinian Sunnis from Tripoli and Akkar had joined the rebellion against the regime and were killed in a Syrian army ambush near the town of Tall Kalakh in the province of Homs. Mandated by the Lebanese state, the head of Security negotiated with Damascus the return of the bodies and the extradition of one captive. Abbas Ibrahim is close to Hezbollah, endorsed by Damascus, and has connections with Turkish and Qatari intelligence services. He is the preferred interlocutor of Western countries. In this context, there are many leads that could reveal more clues...

Next episode

Kidnapping of the archbishops of Aleppo: The Turkish trail, Russian infiltrations and American silence | 2/3

On April 17, about 15 people gathered in the conference room on the second floor of the Sofitel in Beirut. Only their clothing distinguished them. Priests and bishops, representing nine Eastern Churches, greeted each other and discussed current events over coffee with Lebanese ministers or their delegates.Behind the tables—where religious figures sat on the left and politicians on the...