This article by Syrian writer Jwana Aziz reflects on the fall of Bashar
al-Assad's regime. Jwana examines the conditions that precipitated the2011 uprising, the years of civil war, and the difficulties that now lay
ahead for the Syrian people, while also holding open the possibility for
a truly liberated future. ---- Jwana is the daughter of Omar Aziz (Abu
Kamel), a Syrian intellectual and anarchist who both theorized and
organized local democratic councils in Damascus during the uprising. In
2012 the elder Aziz was arrested by Syrian security forces and in 2013
succumbed to poor conditions in a regime prison.
Introduction
As I sit down to write, I think back to the last time I saw my father.
Standing before me, behind iron bars, he was frail and thin, yet he
smiled at me. I carry that smile in my memory. My mother and I stood on
the opposite side, joined by the rest of the families visiting their
loved ones. The divide was meant to be made clear. They, the prisoners,
have wronged the state and were to bear the consequences for doing so.
We, on the other hand, haven't, get to walk out and roam free.
Today, I, and Syrians around the world, find myself in the midst of an
avalanche of emotions, riding currents of joy, sorrow, hope, and fear,
each one pulling me in a different direction. The fall of the Syrian
regime was our collective dream, a longing we had aspired for, and as of
December 8, 2024, it was realized.
To effectively understand its descent, it's important to first
understand how he rose to power. When Hafez Al-Assad first seized power
in Syria in 1970, the dynasty was designed to reign with an iron fist.
During the first three decades, Hafez implemented a system built on
capitalist cronyism and corruption supported by heavy surveillance and a
militarized police state. This combination proved lethal to any dissent
expressed against him and his family.
Consolidating Assets
Assad leveraged his position in power to monopolize control over all
critical sectors, ensuring the state, under his rule, dominated nearly
every aspect of public and private life. This included
telecommunications, real estate, education, healthcare, and even
marriage institutions. The 1970s saw a dramatic enlargement of the
public sector, making the state the principal employer for Syrians. By
2010, an estimated 1.4 million Syrians were on the government payroll.
This strategy blurred the lines between the Assad family and the Syrian
state, making them virtually indistinguishable.
Cronyism
Assad's regime ensured loyalty by cultivating a network of elites bound
to the family through economic and social incentives. Positions of power
were awarded based on allegiance, often favoring members of Assad's own
sect, the Alawites, along with close allies. This entrenched system of
favoritism secured the loyalty of key figures in the military,
political, and business sectors, further solidifying Assad's power. The
pervasive nature of their presence was underscored by the countless
statues erected in honor of Assad and his cronies, symbolizing their
omnipresent dominance over Syria.
Mass Violence, Mass Imprisonment
Perhaps the most potent weapon in Assad's arsenal was the regime's
willingness to use unrelenting violence against its own people. This
strategy reached its most infamous peak with the Hama massacre of 1982.
In response to an uprising by the Muslim Brotherhood, the regime
unleashed a brutal military campaign. Known as "one of the darkest
moments in the modern history of the Arab world," the regime killed an
estimated 10,000 to 40,000 people and destroyed large parts of the city.
This event sent a clear message to the rest of us: any challenge to
Assad's rule would be met with overwhelming and indiscriminate force.
The Syrian Civil War, which began in 2011 under Hafez's son Bashar
al-Assad, further escalated this violence to an industrial scale. The
regime used carpet bombing, barrel bombs, and chemical attacks to crush
opposition-held areas, resulting in the deaths of over half a million
people and the displacement of millions. Tens of thousands were
arrested, tortured, or disappeared.
Nowhere is the Assad regime's capacity for violence more evident than in
its prisons. Among the most infamous are Tadmor (in Palmyra) and
Sednaya, known as "The Human Slaughterhouse." Sednaya was divided into
sections: the "Red Building," a site of systematic torture and
execution, and the "White Building," which housed prisoners awaiting
their fate.
A 2017 report by Amnesty International, based on testimonies from former
guards, revealed that after the Syrian Civil War, the White Building was
cleared of its existing prisoners to make room for those detained for
participating in protests against Bashar al-Assad's regime. Estimates
suggest that about 157,634 Syrians were arrested between March 2011 and
August 2024 Among them were 5,274 children and 10,221 women. Beneath the
White Building lay an "execution room," where detainees from the Red
Building were transported to be hanged. Between 2011 and 2015 alone, an
estimated 13,000 people were hanged there.
We have long known about the horrors of these prisons. In August 2013, a
military defector codenamed Caesar, who recently revealed himself as
Osama Othman, smuggled out 53,275 photographs, documenting the deaths of
at least 6,786 detainees. These images provided an unflinching glimpse
into the brutality of Assad's regime. Today, the veil has been lifted
further, confirming even starker realities.
Accounts describe unimaginable atrocities of rape, mutilation,
defilement of bodies, starvation, and deprivation of basic needs such as
food, water, sleep, and medicine. Torture techniques, some inspired by
French colonial and German practices, included the German Chair, where
victims were bent backward until their spines snapped. The Flying
Carpet, a wooden board designed to bring knees and chest together,
caused unbearable back pain. The Ladder, where detainees were tied and
repeatedly pushed off, broke their backs with every fall. And finally,
the Iron Press was used to dispose of bodies en masse.
Knowing these atrocities persisted for years is heart-wrenching. Syrians
today are either still searching for answers about their missing loved
ones, such as Wafa Moustafa, who is still looking for her father, or
mourning the confirmed deaths of their family and friends. This week,
Syrians have taken to the streets to grieve the loss of activist Mazen
al-Hamada, whose death was confirmed in a military hospital. Mazen, a
symbol of resistance and kindness, has an eternal place in our hearts
alongside countless others who dedicated their lives for our freedom
today: Razan Zaytouneh, Samira Khalil , Ghayath Matar, and all the brave
men, women, and children who sacrificed for Syria's future.
In a recent inquiry, Fadel Abdulghany, the head of the Syrian Network
for Human Rights, uncovers evidence suggesting the regime is complicit
in incinerating bodies on an industrial scale. "Where are the bodies?"
he asks. As of yesterday, around 50 bags of human remains were
discovered in barren land near Damascus, one of many suspected mass
graves. Echoing Abdulghany's call, I underscore the urgent need to know
where the bodies have been buried, so Syrians can lay their families to
rest and begin to etch their future.
Yet amid this darkness, there is joy and determination. Recent videos
capture the release of prisoners, among them toddlers, grown men who
have lost their memories due to horrific conditions, and women who gave
birth in captivity to children fathered by men they don't know. Despite
the haunting realities, today is a day of hope-families are reuniting,
and long-separated loved ones are embracing once again. The dismantling
of Sednaya Prison marks a momentous day to remember.
We stand in the wake of its downfall, the statues have been toppled, its
portraits shattered. the cronies have scattered, the mukhabarat (secret
security) dissipated. A family that hoarded wealth and plundered 90% of
its people into poverty now finds its house an open one, where regular
people walk in and take as they please-sweet irony, or perhaps a fit
retribution.
But our celebration will be brief.
What Comes Next?
The vacuum left by the regime is being exploited by nationalist factions
like Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), an authoritarian organization with an
Islamic fundamentalist ideology, and the Syrian National Army (SNA), a
proxy for Turkey. Both HTS and SNA are seen as threats to a democratic
Syria. And although the US and Israel did not instigate the offensive
that brought an end to the regime, Israel opposes Syria's liberation due
to the potential risks it poses for Israeli control of Palestine and
regional stability.
It is imperative, at this moment, we reject all forms of Arab
nationalism and colonial entities rooted in ethnic cleansing and settler
expansion-whether driven by Israel, the US, Turkey, or others. We must
protect and ensure that we do not perpetuate the systematic erasure of
ethnic groups including Assyrians, Kurds, Nubians, and Armenians.
It is now up to Syrians to dismantle hierarchal structures and rebuild
democracy through "power from below." My father's work and that of his
comrades demonstrate the ability of working-class self-governance
through local councils. They thrived without the state, organizing
education, hospitals, and services, all run by the people and rooted in
their communities. Syrians are already coming together to restore the
infrastructure neglected by the regime. Initiatives to clean and restore
public spaces serve as a testament to our resilience and determination.
Unfortunately, the world, once again, stands idle, hesitant to offer the
support we deserve. Today, as in the past, discourse seeks to limit
Syria's realities and the possibilities for change. We are framed as
passive subjects, slandered with conspiracy theories, and labeled as
pawns in a larger geopolitical game.
But we are not pawns. We are the people who rose against a regime we
knew would kill us.
As I walked away from the prison on the day I saw my father, I stood on
Syrian soil, supposed to be free-yet, I felt anything but. The feeling
of being watched and monitored and the suffocating presence of fear was
all too familiar. The regime's grip was everywhere, in the streets, in
the shops, on the roads, and in the eyes of the people. Syria, as a
land, felt like one vast prison.
If there is one message I could share with the world, it is this: unless
you and your community can determine your way of life, you are living
within some form of prison. A carceral system that seeks to control and
restrict our potential and imagination. If one of the most brutal
dictatorships of the 21st century could crumble in a matter of days,
then so too can the capitalist system that dominates and exploits our
lives. We must be able to dream of that world, the way my father dreamt
of Syria.
Jwana Aziz is a Syrian writer whose work has explored feminist social
movements and the liberation of political prisoners across the MENA
region. Her writing focuses on themes of popular resistance, grassroots
movements, and abolition. Inspired by the legacy of her late father,
Jwana reflects on Syria's journey through its darkest moments and the
resilience of its people.
If you would like to read more, we recommend these statements on the
situation in Syria from our sibling organization Tekosîna Anarsîst.
https://www.blackrosefed.org/ta-statement-dec-3-2024/
https://www.blackrosefed.org/aziz-we-are-not-pawns/
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