After Assad: Syria’s struggle with invasion, division and a new leader

The scars of a 14-year civil war were clearly on display when I arrived in Damascus. Buildings were either reduced to rubble, their facades heavily damaged or blackened from intense fire. But the city pulsated with energy – Syria’s capital was breathing again.  

I had arrived in the capital on 8th March, exactly three months after the Assad regime fell, curious to witness a nation emerging from a brutal dictatorship into an uncertain future under the leadership of Ahmed al-Sharaa, the (then) interim president and former member of Al Qaeda.  

Transitions of power are rarely peaceful, and Syria proved to be no exception. The power vacuum created in the immediate aftermath of Assad’s fall was exploited by Israel with an invasion of the buffer zone in the Golan Heights, a move which was condemned by the UN. 

I decided to head to the buffer zone after learning that the Israeli miliary had detained and allegedly assaulted a journalist who was reporting in the area just months prior – outraged yet unsurprised by the incident given the Israeli army’s notorious record of attacking (even killing) journalists. 

The road leading into the buffer zone from the small town of Khan Arnabeh lay desolate. After walking for some time, the first unmistakable sign of military presence came into sight – a barricade of boulders strewn across the road – preventing any vehicle from proceeding deeper into the zone.  

As I approached the barricade, a cyclist emerged from a narrow dirt track to my left, shouting in Arabic and waving his hand in a clear sign to stop. Among his words, one stood out clearly: “Israel”. He eventually instructed me avoid the main road and cut through the fields if I wanted to continue. 

Not long after, I arrived in the small village of El Hmidaiah where an Israeli tank loomed menacingly atop a small mound, clearly intended to instil a sense of fear in the locals. And it worked – everyone advised against photographing the scene, gesturing it would be met with a lethal response from the intruders. But a growing desensitisation to Israel’s offensive capabilities left me undeterred. After capturing the images, a group of anxious teenagers urged me to leave, fearing a reprisal if I was caught. 

The tension in El Hmidaiah was a microcosm of an expansive incursion by Israel along the buffer zone. Whilst the invasion didn’t come as a surprise, Ahmed Al Sharaa’s tepid response to it and the Israeli military’s subsequent violence was disconcerting. Locals offered various justifications, ranging from Syria’s lack of military capabilities to any overt condemnation of Israel may jeopardize the lifting of US sanctions. When pressed, a number said their red line would be the normalisation of ties with Israel – a move they considered inconceivable and one which they couldn’t entertain when questioned. 

Al Sharaa’s actions since Assad’s downfall drew near unanimous praise from every local I spoke to. In one striking conversation, a headteacher dismissed any critique whatsoever, telling me: “Mr Shahid, you know how Jesus Christ was the saviour for Christians? That is how we feel about Ahmed Al Sharaa”. 

Such reverence for Al Sharaa was palpable in many interactions I had with locals. It left me contemplating if their admiration stemmed purely from his leadership or if it was amplified by relief over Assad’s departure. 

READ: In landmark UN speech, President Sharaa vows to rebuild Syria, calls for world support

But Syria’s transition of power, compounded by the resurgence in sectarian violence, stoked fears amongst the country’s minorities. 

One such voice of concern was Michael – a Christian from the Bab Touma neighbourhood of the capital. An insightful guide who revealed his worries whilst providing a tour of Damascus’s Islamic history. It wasn’t personal persecution he feared. It was fear of losing what makes Syrian society beautiful – its rich diversity.

The sectarian violence was revealed when I headed three hours north to the coastal region. Deadly clashes erupted between Assad loyalists and state security there days before my arrival. Stories emerged of execution style killings by militants targeting the minority Alawite community.

I arrived in the coastal city of Baniyas in the days following the clashes and spoke to an Alawite family who, on condition of anonymity, shared their story.  

Dina, a member of the family, described the traumatic events that unfolded.  She was one three sisters and a brother, all university educated professionals, serving their community as accomplished doctors and a lawyer. 

Yet over the course of two days, their lives were upended by militants – purportedly from Idlib – simply for being Alawite, or “Kuffars” as the militants called them. 

Their ordeal began when armed men stormed their home, accusing them (Alawites) of complicity in regime atrocities in Idlib, a Sunni majority city, before stealing the brother’s car. 

A second group arrived in search of weapons. I was told that Assad had sewn so much division between the Sunnis and Alawites that the latter were encouraged to arm themselves.   

But it was the third group who shattered everything. Dina recounted how the attackers forced her brother and her sister’s husband outside. 

As the family watched paralysed from the living room window, the attackers yelled “Allah-u-Akbar” and executed both men with a single shot to the neck, killing them instantly.  

“Syria has turned into a bloodbath”, Dina decried. Her sister, widowed and pregnant with her second child, accused the militants of acting under the orders of the president. 

And yet, Dina refused to label the attackers as “Sunnis”, referring to them as “radical Islamists”. She reserved the term “Sunnis” for her neighbours who, in a powerful display of humanity, sheltered her family and kept them safe until the violence subsided.

I left the family as visitors came to mourn, unable to see Dina’s mother break down inconsolably with each visitor.  

Their neighbourhood bore clear signs of an insurgency. Buildings vandalized, cars incinerated and mass crowds gathered around aid vans – a haunting image of a shattered community. 

Syria’s road to recovery remains fraught with challenges. A nation whose people suffered profound grief under a despotic regime must now place their hopes in a new leader. But the joy of one group cannot rest on the suffering of another. Healing must begin with honesty and compassion. 

Stories like Dina’s – and countless others I met – are a testament to the resilience of the Syrian people. A people determined to heal themselves, their communities and their land as they strive for a brighter future.

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The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Monitor.