WAR HOTELS
KENNETH MORRISON & ABDALLAH EL BINNI
Contents
Acknowledgements
vii
List of Abbreviations
x
Foreword Introduction: The War Hotel
1
xiii 1
The Continental and the Caravelle, Saigon, Vietnam
13
2
The Hôtel Le Royale, Phnom Penh, Cambodia
52
3
The Europa Hotel, Belfast, Northern Ireland
77
4
The Holiday Inn and the Commodore, Beirut, Lebanon
107
The Al Rasheed and the Palestine, Baghdad, Iraq
145
The Holiday Inn, Sarajevo, Bosnia & Herzegovina
187
Postscript: The Demise of the War Hotel
228
Select Bibliography
238
Index
243
5 6
Introduction
The War Hotel
HOTELS ARE AS ORDINARY AS
they are omnipresent. Budget,
mid-range or luxurious, they are part of our everyday lives whether we use them for business, pleasure or merely convenience. Ordinarily associated with leisure or business – holidays, weekend retreats, conferences, dinners, weddings and parties – the vast majority of guests visit them to enjoy the myriad services, conveniences, luxuries and escapism that only hotels can provide. We may rarely, if at all, consider the important role that hotels play in times of crisis, or that these buildings are adaptable even in the most extreme of circumstances. We may also not think of them as part of a state’s security apparatus, with high levels of surveillance of its guests, or places of intrigue frequented by politicians, diplomats, spies, journalists and representatives of military or paramilitary groups. Moreover, we may not consider that they are occasionally commandeered by military or paramilitary
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forces as bases, headquarters, field hospitals or special courts, and that they can also be redeployed as prisons or holding facilities (the Riyadh Ritz-Carlton being the most high-profile ‘five-star prison’, where Saudi elites accused of corruption were held in November 2017). Yet hotels are highly adaptable spaces that can be effectively and efficiently repurposed when social, political or security conditions require. The fact that hotels can be repurposed so effectively was evidenced throughout the COVID-19 pandemic, during which hoteliers were forced to adapt to an unsettling new reality and, similarly, adapt their spaces for purposes for which they had not been built. As the pandemic tightened its grip, the global hospitality industry began rapidly to stall – and by March 2020, as the virus spread inexorably throughout Europe and the Americas, the industry went into free fall. Occupancy rates plummeted and events, such as business conferences and weddings, were cancelled. Normal guests stayed away, either because they were reluctant to travel or were unable to do so as a consequence of travel restrictions. In a scenario unthinkable just months before, hotel owners and management were forced to close or to find creative ways of ‘repurposing’ their facilities, and the hospitality industry responded in a number of ways – adapting hotels into quarantine centres and field hospitals or as accommodation for medical staff, key workers and the vulnerable or homeless. No longer places for leisure, business, enjoyment and indulgence, they had become
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3
instead vital components in the broader infrastructure of pandemic crisis management. Of course, there is nothing particularly novel about the repurposing of hotels, and they have long played a key role in mitigating crises or providing a semblance of sanctuary for those fleeing conflicts or natural disasters. Indeed, the recent conflicts in Libya and Syria, which generated an exodus of refugees attempting to cross the Mediterranean Sea, demonstrated just how important hotels are in providing crucial support for those seeking refuge. Hotels on the Greek coast and islands (such as the Captain Elias Hotel in Kos), as well as numerous examples in the Balkans, were transformed into large centres for refugees run by the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) and funded by the European Commission (ECOM) as part of a wider European Union (EU) relocation scheme. This model was adopted across Europe, the United States and Canada in advance of refugees being more permanently resettled. Larger hotel chains negotiated contracts with national governments to help them deal with the influx of refugees, not only ensuring that the refugees could be safely housed but also, for the hotel chains, guaranteeing occupancy rates above the industry average. And what was established in 2015 has continued. Hotels were also rented by the UK government to house Afghan refugees in the wake of the chaotic departure of US and NATO forces from Afghanistan in August 2021.
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Hotels have long served as temporary sanctuaries for refugees fleeing conflict within countries suffering war. Most are, after all, solidly built structures which possess an internal infrastructure that includes generators; water tanks; refrigeration; stores of dried food; and, crucially, cellars, conference rooms and function halls where large numbers can be accommodated. During the war in Croatia in 1991, for example, the basements of numerous hotels on the Dalmatian coast, such as the Hotel Libertas, were used as shelters for civilians fleeing the shelling of Dubrovnik and its environs. Likewise, the Hotel Europa in Sarajevo was used to house refugees before the Bosnian Serb Army used incendiary shells to destroy it in August 1992. In the same year, the Iveria Hotel in Tbilisi, Georgia, was repurposed as a refugee centre for those who had escaped the fighting in Abkhazia. But the role of the ‘hotel as sanctuary’ was most clearly demonstrated by the case of the Hôtel des Milles Collines in Kigali during the 1994 Rwandan genocide. Hitherto one of the city’s most prestigious hotels, it became a place of temporary sanctuary – its manager, Paul Rusesabagina (whose endeavours were dramatised in the 2004 film Hotel Rwanda), sheltering over a thousand Tutsis and moderate Hutus from the murderous Hutu Interahamwe paramilitaries. In times of war and crisis, hotels have been used as places for negotiations between warring factions; as mili tary barracks, as many were in South Vietnam, where numerous hotels in Saigon became billets for US military
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personnel; and even as prisons or rape camps (the Hotel Vilina Vlas near Višegrad in Bosnia & Herzegovina became notorious as one such place in 1992). But, depending on their location and elevation, they can also be highly valued strategic locations that are fought over by rival armed groups. Indeed, in the context of urban warfare, hotels can become vital strategic assets that allow for the control of the high ground. Armies or militias thus engage in fierce battles over them and other tall buildings to ensure that they can establish control of the strategic heights, from where they can dictate terms. The Holiday Inn in Beirut, which was central to the ‘Battle of the Hotels’ in 1975– 76, was a case in point, because control of it provided an important strategic advantage to whichever militia occu pied that elevated position. Even in countries ostensibly at peace, hotels are not immune from violence. They can represent ‘prestige targets’ for terrorist groups, the bombing of which is likely to generate significant publicity and cause casualties among those they consider their enemies. Frequently, the targets are not the hotels per se but the guests, deemed to represent an occupying force or people. Take, for example, the July 1946 bombing of the King David Hotel in Jerusalem, which had been essentially requisitioned by the British Mandate authorities in Palestine. The attack by the Zionist paramilitary organisation Irgun was, in their view, legitimate because they regarded the hotel as the base of an occupying force. Similarly, the bombing of the Semiramis
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Hotel in Jerusalem by the Jewish paramilitary organisation Haganah in January 1948 was an explicit attempt to kill members of Arab armed groups whom they believed were plotting against them. In Cyprus, too, a British delegation was targeted by the Greek-Cypriot National Organisation of Cypriot Fighters (EOKA) at the Ledra Palace Hotel in Nicosia in November 1955, during the annual Caledonian Society Ball. Throughout ‘The Troubles’ in Northern Ireland, the Europa Hotel in Belfast was bombed over thirty times by the Provisional IRA, not only because attacking it would generate publicity but also as part of an attempt to make Northern Ireland ungovernable. The IRA’s targeting of the Grand Hotel in Brighton during the Conservative Party Conference in October 1984 was a direct attack on the British government. Of course, one would expect that hotels used as bases for political leaders or representatives of occupying forces would be heavily securitised, but other hotels, particularly those that host guests working for international organi sations, are considered both ‘soft targets’ and fair game. The attacks on the Serena in Kabul in January 2008, the Pearl Continental Hotel in Peshawar in June 2009, the Intercontinental in Kabul in June 2011 and at the same hotel in January 2018 were carried out because of the pre sence of foreign guests and what, to the terrorist groups, they represented. The first attack on the Intercontinental, during which a group of nine armed suicide bombers be sieged the hotel, led to a five-hour siege in which twenty-
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one people were killed (including the attackers), while the second left forty-two dead after the building had been attacked by gunmen. The Intercontinental was speci fically targeted because it regularly played host to Afghan government officials and because of the presence of staff belonging to international organisations based in Afghanistan. More recently, the Baron Hotel in Kabul was targeted by ISIS-Khorasan Province (ISIS-K) militants on 26 August 2021 because British diplomatic staffers were using the building as a processing centre for Afghans and foreigners attempting to evacuate the city after the Taliban took control of Afghanistan. The Baron, considered one of the safest hotels in the country, was protected by both a 4-metre perimeter security wall with watchtowers and by US private military contractors. This level of security meant that the building, its guests and staff were unhurt, though many died outside its perimeter. Increasingly, hotels have become ‘legitimate’ targets for terrorist groups as a means of targeting Westerners more broadly, even those with no personal connection to politics. Since the US launched its ‘War on Terror’ following the attack on the World Trade Center in New York on 11 September 2001, numerous hotels that frequently host Western guests have been subjected to terrorist attacks. The Paradise in Mombasa in 2002; the Marriott in Jakarta in 2003; the Mövenpick and Ghazala Gardens hotels in Sharm el-Sheikh in 2005; the Taj Mahal Palace and Oberoi Trident in Mumbai in 2008; the Marriott in Islamabad
8 WAR HOTELS
in 2008; the Corinthia in the Libyan capital Tripoli in January 2015; the Imperial and Hotel Club Riu Bellevue in Sousse in June of the same year; the Sahafi Hotel in 2015 and 2018, and the Afrik Hotel in 2021, both in Mogadishu; and the attack by Islamic State (ISIS) militants on the Shangri-La, Cinnamon Grand and Kingsbury hotels in Colombo in April 2019 are the most striking examples of the targeting of tourist hotels with no apparent political character other than the fact that they frequently hosted Westerners. However, the term ‘war hotel’ refers primarily to those examples within war zones that play a vital role as bases for the international press corps when reporting from within conflict zones, where they, too, can be subject to attacks. It is these hotels that are the main focus of this book. Since the Crimean War in the mid-nineteenth century, foreign correspondents have travelled to various parts of the globe to convey their impressions of faraway conflicts in the burgeoning print media. Many of these correspondents stayed in hotels, and while they may have provided something of a communications infrastructure, with their phone lines or telegram services, initially these venues served, by and large, primarily as accommodation, not as a workplace. It was with the advent of television news in the 1950s, and the more widespread coverage of foreign conflicts by television networks in the US and Europe, that hotels became an increasingly vital node in the reporting infra
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9
structure required by journalists when operating in the field and for sending their dispatches. No longer were hotels merely places to sleep, rest or recuperate; they became a fundamental part of the functioning of the international press corps. If other options were limited, small bureaux were often established in hotels, or moved to them because they were perceived as more secure and also as places that could provide basic utilities such as water, electricity and food. Consequently, they often became home to small media operations with an internal communications infrastructure and equipped with, for example, telex machines and direct international dialling, or places where a relatively consistent supply of electricity allowed for the use of satellite phones, laptops, recording equipment and other key tools of the trade. Some were distant from the front lines, other were in uncomfortably close proximity to the action; on occasion, these hotels became ‘grandstands’ or vantage points from which to view developments. Naturally, foreign correspondents and their crews gravitated towards hotels, not only because they could set up their equipment or gain access to an existing communications infrastructure but also because they provided other basic requirements: food, drink, water, laundry services and city maps – necessities that are often difficult to source elsewhere in a conflict zone. They could even make contact there with local stringers, fixers, translators or drivers who, with their intimate
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local knowledge, would be able to better facilitate the day-to-day work of the correspondent. Thus, the best way for journalists to effectively ‘plug in’ would be to identify which hotel (or hotels) the media was based in, join colleagues there, garner information about the latest political and security developments, and receive briefings about the local context. The hotels were bases from which to embark on their reporting from the field, and a necessary place to prepare for such endeavours. And, of course, their lobbies and bars were places to socialise; to ‘decompress’; to share experiences; and, when appropriate or possible, to drown sorrows. Hotels, therefore, served as important networking nodes that provided everything, or almost everything, required for the correspondent to function in external environments that could be unfamiliar and dangerous. Every war generates memorable examples of the hospitality industry’s resourcefulness, professionalism, adaptability, courage, endeavour and ‘grace under fire’, and the hotels that are the main focus of this book are not only demonstrative of this but are also those that became some of the most recognisable symbols of the respective wars of which they were a part. There are, of course, many war hotels; too many to address in detail in this book. The Camino Real in San Salvador, the Intercontinental and the Esplanade in Zagreb, the Meikles in Salisbury (now Harare), the Federal Palace in Lagos, the Intercontinental and the Marriott in Dacca (now Dhaka), the Rixos Al-Nasr
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11
in Tripoli, the Grand Hotel in Prishtina, the Argentina in Dubrovnik, the Intercontinental in Amman, the King David and the American Colony in Jerusalem, the Hyatt and Intercontinental in Belgrade, the Ledra Palace in Nicosia, the Intercontinental and Serena hotels in Kabul, and the Ramada in Donetsk are all hotels that have hosted correspondents during wars in those countries, and all have stories to tell. We have, however, chosen to focus on those that have developed an iconic status and have experienced sustained periods of significant flux, during which foreign journalists were their most frequent guests. The first chapter focuses on the Continental Palace and the Caravelle in Saigon (now Ho Chi Minh City). Both were some distance from the front lines but were important bases for the media reporting from Vietnam and would remain so until the fall of the South Vietnamese capital in April 1975. We then proceed to neighbouring Cambodia, where the Hôtel Le Royale (renamed the Hôtel Le Phnom during the Cambodian War) in Phnom Penh would serve as the main base for correspondents until the city was overwhelmed by the Khmer Rouge and the hotel became a Red Cross ‘neutral zone’ where foreigners and Cambodians sought sanctuary before being expelled. The third chapter recounts the story of the Europa in Belfast, the ‘crossroads of intrigue’ frequented by journalists that gained notoriety as the most bombed hotel in Europe, despite the presence of the press. Beirut’s Holiday Inn and Commodore are the focus of the fourth chapter, the
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former being central to the Battle of the Hotels, while the latter would become the main base for the foreign media throughout the civil war in Lebanon. The events that took place within the iconic Baghdad hotels, the Al Rasheed and the Palestine, during the First and Second Gulf Wars form the basis of the fifth chapter, while the final chapter focuses on the Holiday Inn in Sarajevo, perhaps the most dangerous war hotel of them all – located not only within siege lines but only a few hundred metres from an active front line and subject to daily sniper fire and occasional shelling. Each of these hotels possess unique and fascinating histories, inextricably linked with the conflicts in the countries and cities in which they are located and often at the heart of important developments unfolding there. Documenting these remarkable histories has not been without its challenges, not least tracing those who were once guests or who once worked at these hostelries. Nevertheless, we have attempted to do so by drawing upon a wide range of sources. These include memoirs, contemporary reports from a range of print media and wire services, television footage, amateur film, hotel archives and extensive interviews with journalists who frequented the hotels and often witnessed events from within or in their immediate environs – and, where possible, the staff and management who were responsible for running these hotels in the most challenging of circumstances. Welcome to the War Hotel. Enjoy your stay.
The Continental Palace, Saigon, Vietnam. (Courtesy of colaimages/Alamy Stock Photo)
The ‘Five O’Clock Follies’ at the Rex Hotel, Saigon. (Courtesy of AP/Shutterstock)
The Europa Hotel in Belfast after a large IRA bomb was detonated in 1977. (Courtesy of AP/Shutterstock)
The view from one of the snipers’ nests in the Holiday Inn, Beirut, Lebanon. (Courtesy of Abdallah El Binni)
The scarred exterior of the Holiday Inn, Beirut. (Courtesy of Abdallah El Binni)
A masked Lebanese Phalangist fighter plays the piano in the Holiday Inn, Beirut, during the ‘Battle of the Hotels’. (Courtesy of Lapousterle/AP/Shutterstock)
The infamous George Bush mosaic in the lobby of the Al Rasheed Hotel, Baghdad, Iraq. (Courtesy of Chris North/Alamy Stock Photo)
The bomb-damaged Reuters bureau in the Palestine Hotel, Baghdad. (Courtesy of Abaca Press/Alamy Stock Photo)