BEIRUT—Lebanon is no stranger to political scandal, but few incidents rival the intrigue of the case now known locally as the “Phantom Saudi Prince” affair. 

What initially appeared to be a series of personal deceptions has evolved into one of the most dangerous episodes of political manipulation in modern Lebanese history.

At its core is an alleged scheme in which a Lebanese citizen, posing as a senior Saudi royal emissary, infiltrated elite political circles, influenced political decisions, and extracted vast sums of money—all while bypassing official diplomatic channels.

For international readers unfamiliar with Lebanon’s political landscape, the gravity of this case lies not only in financial fraud, but in its potential impact on sovereignty, constitutional processes, and regional relations.

For nearly a decade, Lebanese politicians and businessmen were told of a mysterious Saudi royal figure known as “Abu Omar”, allegedly close to decision-makers in Riyadh and empowered to issue guidance on Lebanese political affairs.

He never appeared publicly, never met anyone face to face, and never communicated through official Saudi diplomatic institutions.

Instead, his presence was confined to phone calls—always authoritative, always urgent, and always invoking “royal directives.”

This invisibility, paradoxically, strengthened his aura. In Lebanon’s sectarian political system—where foreign backing often determines political survival—the claim of privileged access to Saudi power proved irresistible.

Investigations now indicate that “Abu Omar” never existed!

According to security and judicial sources, the voice belonged to Mustafa Al-Hassiyan, a Lebanese man from the Akkar region in northern Lebanon, who works as a car metalworker. 

He allegedly carried out the impersonation in coordination with Khaldoun Araymit, a political fixer with deep connections across Lebanon’s Sunni political elite.
The alleged division of labor was simple:

* Al-Hassiyan played the role of the Saudi “prince” over the phone, adopting an accent of the country.

* Araymit handled political introductions, cultivated trust, and collected money.

The operation followed a consistent pattern:

1. Promise of Saudi backing for political advancement—parliamentary seats, ministerial posts, or even the premiership.

2. Strict secrecy, with repeated warnings not to inform the Saudi ambassador or any official diplomatic channel, under the pretext of “sensitive royal pathways.”

3. Financial requests, framed as “humanitarian support,” “political preparation,” or assistance for intermediaries—often channelled to Araymit, his son, or affiliated individuals.

Some victims reportedly paid tens of thousands of dollars, while others lost between $100,000 and $500,000.

The alleged victims include prominent Lebanese political and economic figures across sectarian lines. The scandal particularly affected the Sunni political sphere, where Saudi Arabia has historically played an influential role.

Among the names circulated are former ministers, party leaders, business magnates, and media figures.

What makes the case especially explosive is that even senior political leaders reportedly acted on guidance attributed to “Abu Omar”, believing it reflected Saudi will.

Interference in constitutional politics

The most alarming dimension of the affair concerns claims that “Abu Omar” influenced binding parliamentary consultations—a constitutional process in which MPs nominate a prime minister.

According to multiple accounts, on the night of the consultations that led to the designation of Prime Minister Nawaf Salam, some MPs received threatening phone calls invoking “royal orders,” instructing them how to vote and warning of consequences for disobedience. 

If proven, this would amount to direct falsification of foreign influence, manipulating Lebanon’s constitutional mechanisms through deception.

The scheme began to unravel when one victim attempted to call “Abu Omar” while physically sitting with Mustafa Al-Hassiyan—only for the phone in the room to ring. This coincidence triggered security scrutiny.

Subsequently, Lebanese military intelligence arrested Al-Hassiyan. Leaked information suggests he confessed to impersonation and stated that Khaldoun Araymit instructed and coordinated the operation.

Audio and video recordings allegedly support these claims and are now part of the judicial file.

The scandal has reportedly angered Saudi officials, not because Riyadh was involved—but precisely because it was not. 

Saudi authorities are said to have expressed frustration over Lebanese politicians bypassing official channels and engaging with an unknown figure claiming royal authority.

Several Lebanese leaders reportedly received direct reprimands after it became clear they had relied on an impostor rather than formal diplomatic engagement.
This case goes far beyond financial fraud. It exposes:

* The fragility of Lebanon’s political class,

* Its dependence on perceived foreign sponsorship,

* And the absence of basic verification mechanisms at the highest levels of power.

Lebanese observers now ask a far more troubling question:

What if this had not been a lone impostor, but a coordinated intelligence operation?

The scandal indeed is not merely about a fake Saudi envoy. It is a mirror reflecting how easily power, money, and illusion intersect in Lebanon’s political system. 

That a fabricated voice—armed only with a phone and a narrative of foreign authority—could influence leaders, money flows, and constitutional decisions is a warning not just to Lebanon, but to any fragile political system entangled with external patronage.

As investigations continue, the case may well redefine how Lebanon understands political legitimacy, foreign influence, and the price of dependency on imagined power.