I was just a few months old when I first visited Syria. My mother took me to see her family in Damascus, and every summer thereafter, we would travel from London to spend time with her mother and siblings.
Those annual visits were a fairy tale of family feasts on the city’s hilltops, adventures through vibrant historic souks and endless laughter in the company of relatives and friends I sorely missed during England’s colder, lonelier school terms. Damascus was my haven of joy and wonder. I’ve yet to meet anyone who wasn’t instantly charmed by Syria or profoundly changed by it. But beneath its warmth and exuberance, we all felt the shadow of the cold cruelty that shaped its reality.
When the Syrian uprising began in 2011, the Bashar al-Assad regime’s swift, bloodthirsty response shattered any illusion of progress and exposed the brutal truths about its gangster-like rule.
Over the past 13 years, my relatives have been killed, disappeared, displaced, imprisoned and forced into exile. When I heard that the “eternal Assad” had fled like a drain rat, the first face I pictured was my cousin’s — disappeared at a checkpoint, never seen again. He was a sweet young man who never received a funeral, was never mentioned publicly, was silenced by fear, pain or perhaps both.
“This is for you,” I whispered as new Syrian flags rose across the country. “I’m sorry we couldn’t properly honor you.”
I thought of another cousin, the one who joined the Free Syrian Army’s coordination committee in 2011. He took me to flash protests in Damascus while I reported on the early days of the uprising. I vividly recall a funeral procession for a protester killed by a regime sniper. His widow showed me the bullet hole in his stomach and pleaded, “Write about this! Tell them. Tell the world what he’s doing to us!”
When it became clear that no words could save protesters, rebels or civilians from Assad’s wrath, my cousin fled. My mother and I smuggled him out of Damascus to Beirut. From there, he moved to Istanbul, then boarded a boat to Germany. He hasn’t seen his mother or brother in 12 years.
Other faces came to mind: the family from Homs I met in a makeshift camp in Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley. They cooked a spectacular maqloobeh in a giant cauldron over a wood fire behind their tent. I wonder where they are now. Did they survive the harsh winters, xenophobia and financial collapse? Are they finally on their way home?
Their faces flashed like a reel on a viewfinder, and I smiled and cheered for them — for all that had been fought for and lost. And for all that had been won: a Syria free of Assad.
The fall of a brutal and inept tyrant should be cause for celebration among a people who rarely triumph over their oppressors. Yet, in Syria’s case, conflicting interests and worldviews have tempered some of the excitement and, in some instances, turned former “freedom-fighting” comrades into questionable allies.
No sooner had the rebel Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) group approached Damascus, poised to topple the Assad regime, than starkly polarized reactions began to surface worldwide, including among Arabs. While most Syrians and their supporters understandably celebrated the downfall of their notorious despot, some self-styled Western “anti-imperialists” — including voices within the pro-Palestinian movement — adopted a more muted stance.
As a self-described anti-imperialist, a Syrian and a Palestinian, I initially struggled to grasp these supposed competing aspirations. Freedom from violent oppression unites all three identities — why wouldn’t they align on Assad’s ouster?
It was after a Syrian friend pointed out a lack of zeal among some of his freedom-fighting activist friends that I started to notice the trickle of belated and trepidatious congratulations on the fall of the regime. “Congratulations but watch out,” came the sentiments.
I nudged an English journalist friend to send me a “mabrook” (congratulations) and he obliged, but not before adding, “are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes, I’m sure. And please don’t ‘But Hamas’ me right now,” I tapped back, referring to the two words that have become synonymous with diverting and gaslighting the discourse on Palestinian liberation.
Am I sure liberation from Assad is what I wanted? Absolutely. Do I have to be sure about how HTS rule over Syria will be to enjoy that?
“There is a difference between supporting groups and supporting the act of resistance against the common enemy,” wrote a British-Syrian researcher and activist on X in the immediate aftermath of the HTS takeover of Syria.
It feels perverse to see Syrians forced into defensive positions on the day they are freed from half a century of tyranny. Why must Syria’s liberation from a notorious regime that spent decades destroying the fabric of its society — hollowing out its people, resources, land and opportunities — be met with hesitation, muted celebrations or warnings to “watch with caution”? Why can’t it simply be recognized for what it is: a victory for human liberation?
There is growing dismay at those critiquing Assad’s overthrow for showing little regard for the sincere desire for freedom of Arabs and relegating their national aspirations to mere chess moves on a geopolitical board.
Ironically, these oracles of doom are nearly always railing against the paternalistic patronising of Western orientalists of global south countries, and yet here they are telling Syrians they don’t know what’s good for them. As estimations emerge that up to 100,000 Syrians disappeared into Assad’s prison cells, the majority killed, do the naysayers really expect us to be thinking of “worse to come” without the regime? It is beyond demeaning.
For some Arab skeptics, the idea that people from these lands could free themselves from despotism seems so implausible it’s dismissed outright — like prisoners hesitating to walk out of an open cell door. Perhaps, as Arabs, we’ve grown so accustomed to tragedy and humiliation that the concept of victory feels like pure fantasy. Surely, it must have been the Americans. Or the Israelis. “Haven’t they already occupied more Syrian land in the Golan Heights?” asks one commentator notorious for denying the regime’s chemical attacks on its own people.
That Israel’s violent expansionism knows no bounds should come as no surprise to anyone alive over the past 14 months. That it would opportunistically bomb Syria’s weapons depots in this moment is to be expected. After all, Israel has been bombing Syria for years, including more than 220 times in the last year alone (before the latest attacks since Assad’s fall).
For some, the fall of the Assad regime is further proof of the far reach of international imperial intervention – American, Israeli, Turkish – with the purpose of weakening the Syrian state, depriving it of self-determination, and possibly even land annexation. Ironic, then, that all those travesties did befall the country under the Assads.
Others appear to be scanning the Syria situation through the “my enemy’s enemy is my friend” filter, with blinkered results. As one popular account posted on X, “I think part of my apprehension at the situation in Syria is rooted in a deep belief that whenever the US empire wins, humanity loses.” There are countless reasons why this statement holds true, and yet, what if humanity wins? What if all the bloodshed, the revolution, the protesting, the pushing back, the lobbying, the fleeing, the fighting on for the liberation of all oppressed people are not in vain? Is it possible for us to imagine that?
Whether in WhatsApp groups or on social media, some of the messages on Syria from Arabs have a disconcerting undertone of anticipatory threat.
“Let’s hope this is real liberation and not just switching dictators,” came one retort to Syrians congratulating one another.
Others have taken to dampening any optimism by posting maps showing the Greater Israel expansionist plans that include large swaths of Syria.
Whether anti-Islamist, pro-Assad or anti-Israel, there’s an angle for those reluctant to celebrate.
“So many red flags,” says one anti-regime Syrian commentator to CNN about Syria’s new political leadership, less than a week after they’ve taken power.
“Pro-al Qaeda”, “American stooge” and “Israeli collaborator” are variations of more toxic accusations leveled at those backing the Syrian uprising.
“Look at Iraq. Look at Libya. Look at Egypt. Now they’ll destroy Syria,” are other worrying refrains echoed across segments of Arab society.
Some also lament Assad’s demise for the almost laughable claim that he was an anti-imperialist fighter, a deterrent to Israel and a friend of Palestine. These claims are absurd when weighed against the regime’s reality. Its survival depended entirely on direct foreign intervention by Russia and Iran. While they may not fly the stars and stripes, imperialism comes in many flags. As for deterring Israel, the obvious question is: with what?
While Syria has historically been welcoming to Palestinian refugees, granting them more rights and opportunities (short of citizenship) than neighboring countries, Palestinians were not spared from state repression. Thousands of Palestinian-Syrians were killed by regime forces during the war, many lived under siege and all endured the same authoritarianism as any other Syrian.
Any study of revolutionary history shows that beginnings are often bumpy and the future uncertain. Yet, by most comparisons, HTS’s ouster of Assad and takeover of Syria have been remarkably bloodless and smooth. Still, there remains the patronizing, infantilizing finger-wagging and cautioning.
As if Syrians aren’t acutely aware of the work ahead and the pitfalls to avoid. As if 14 years of uprising, civil war, proxy battles and genocide haven’t already taught them the harsh realities of geopolitics, competing interests and the fragility of hope. As if the dozens of civil society movements, working groups, transitional government experts and opposition forces that emerged over the last two decades haven’t been holding their breath for precisely this moment.
Perhaps, for some, the cost of hope feels too high. These cautionary sentiments seem like a protective buffer, as if over-analysis might outmaneuver the inevitable disappointment. I’m intrigued by the psychology behind this resistance to freedom — the impulse to temper the visceral, emotional response to seeing thousands of men and women released from prison dungeons, many seeing daylight for the first time in years, with a warning sign that says, “Watch out.”
Yet what we are watching from Syria so far has been “reassuring,” according to the United Nations Special Envoy for Syria Geir Pedersen. HTS has been lauded for its messages of inclusivity and unity.
Ironically, the Islamophobic undertones in the skeptical discourse of some leftist and Arab circles mirror, in more blatant form, the rhetoric in Western media. A popular British podcast, The News Agents, exemplified this with its provocatively titled episode: “Will Syria be governed by terrorists?”
Fair enough, one might argue, given HTS’s former ties to al Qaeda. Yet, considering the fluidity with which Western governments redefine who qualifies as a terrorist, that designation could easily change. For now, the facts on the ground do not indicate that an Islamic fundamentalist group is terrorizing its way into power (though the possibility in the future can’t be ruled out). So why are we acting as if it already has?
And while we’re on the topic of terrorists, wasn’t it Assad’s regime —with its thugs, barrel bombs and secret police — that slaughtered over 600,000 Syrians? Why are we gaslighting ourselves out of a hard-fought victory?
Even more troubling is the risk of suppressing our grief over the staggering loss of Syrian lives during the grotesque reign of the Assad dynasty. Will Syrians now be compelled to intellectualize and justify their relief at escaping their abuser instead of beginning the long process of healing? This is about generations of work — processing trauma, recovering, rebuilding — and Syrians need support to undertake it, not shame for embracing their freedom.
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