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“From now on, no more fear!” (Ma fi khawf baad al-yawm!) chanted the people of Deraa, in southern Syria, on 18 May.
State repression intensified, but the protestors rejected the culture of fear, and in many towns declared they were ready to die: “Martyrs are going to heaven in their millions”; “There is only one God, and God loves martyrs”; “Resist Banias, freedom is worth giving your life for” (Banias is the name of a port). Martyrdom was a theme in every region, expressed in a slogan currently popular in the Middle East: “With our souls, with our blood, we sacrifice ourselves for you, oh martyr.” To express solidarity with a town where many people have died, they chant another version: “With our souls, with our blood, we sacrifice ourselves for you, oh Deraa” (Bi-ruh bi-damm, nafdîk ya shahîd).
Every protest since March has called for freedom by twisting a slogan of the regime; so “God, Syria, Bashar -- that’s all!” has become “God, Syria, freedom -- that’s all!” Syria was under a state of emergency from 1963 until this April, so freedom is associated with democracy: “We demand freedom and democratic elections.” This transcends sectarian divisions: “Freedom, freedom, Muslims and Christians!”; “We are the partisans of freedom and peace.”
The latest style, which is high-flown, is meant to mark the dignity of the individual citizen. And you can hear the growing rumble of anger in: “Don’t insult the Syrian people” (Al-shaab al-suri ma byandhal).
Matyrdom cleanses humiliation and restores an individual as a person and a believer (virtues traditionally reserved for nationalist heroes and saints): “Better to die than be debased” (Al-mawt wa lâ-l-madhalleh). At the beginning of the intifada it was common to hear opposition supporters, at gatherings of friends or family, greet someone from Deraa or its region with: “You have raised our heads high” (Rafa’tu-l-na ra’sna).
Ordinary people have tried to respond to accusations of division, violence and conspiracy. They proclaim their support for pacifism and unity, and reject sectarianism: “One, one, the Syrian people are one!”; “In peace, Muslims and Christians, in peace. No to sectarianism!”; “No to violence, no to vandalism!”
In areas where there has been incitement to sectarian violence, the banners and slogans answer: “Sunni, Kurd or Alawite, we want national unity” (Sunni wa kurdi wa ‘alawiyya, badna wahdah wataniyyah). The authorities try to cause fear within Christian, Alawite and other minorities by claiming the uprising will be manipulated by Islamist extremists. But the protesters respond “Neither Salafist nor Muslim Brotherhood, long live courageous people!”; “Arabs and Kurds against Salafism”; “Our revolt is the revolt of youth, no to Salafism and terrorism”; “Neither America nor Iran, let us live in peace.” There are slogans that summarise it all: “We are neither Muslim Brothers nor foreign agents, we are all Syrians, Muslims and Alawites, Druze and Christians” (Nahna ma ‘anna ikhwân wa lâ aydî kharijiyya, nahna kullna suriyya, islam wa ‘alawiyya, durziyya wa masihiyya).
In the first days, demonstrators had limited themselves to demands for reform and an end to the state of emergency. There was still some support for President Bashar al-Assad. The Syrians had seen the civil wars that ravaged neighbouring Lebanon for 15 years, and more recently Iraq, and were wary of a long confrontation with the risk of sectarian clashes. But then came Deraa, and violence by the regime. Then in Bashar’s first, much anticipated, speech to the nation on 30 March, he scorned the protesters.
After that, the slogan of the Tunisian and Egyptian revolutions began to ring through the streets: “The people want the downfall of the regime” (Al-shaab yurid isqat al-nizam). As state thugs spread terror and people were killed, the tone rose: “We don’t like you, get out, you and your party.” A new slogan became popular in April: “Anyone who harms his people is a traitor.”
Even before his speech, there were slogans against Bashar from Deraa after the security forces’ attack on the Omari mosque on16 March, the murder of a mother and daughter, and the abduction of injured people who had taken refuge in a religious building. “Lane by lane, house by house, we will get rid of you, Bashar” (Zenga, zenga, dar, dar, badna nchîlak ya Bashâr). “Lane by lane, house by house” refers to a speech by Libya’s Muammar Gadaffi broadcast on Al-Jazeera, which raced like wildfire through the Arab world.
Bashar’s second speech on 16 April came far too late to decrease tension, and he said nothing about article 8 of the constitution (which establishes the Ba’ath as the ruling party) or about freeing political prisoners. Though he ended the state of emergency, that didn’t stop thousands of arbitrary arrests and the deployment of tanks and soldiers against protesters: “Oppression is such a habit for them, it has become a ritual”; “They have not only stolen our dignity, they make us pay for their corruption.”
Syrians are fiercely loyal to their homeland (“Long live Syria and down with Assad”) and to their local roots. Every town commands its inhabitants; and in the tradition of the great Bedouin battles, it also demands their virility (al-roujoula) which, with virtue, is the key value of an Arab fighter. “Where are you Deiri [inhabitant of Deir al-Zor]? Where are you? Stand up and paint your face.” (Tribesmen used to put kohl around their eyes before going to war.) Or “Barzeh [an area of Damascus], we are your men, God knows who the traitors are”; and “Here are your men, Daraya [a town southwest of Damascus].” Any protester who braves death sacrifices himself for his homeland, and honours his town or village, which then measures its place in history by the number of its brave ones.
This uprising is not just about politics but a worsening social and economic situation, for the protesters come mainly from the underprivileged. They reject corruption and the regime’s clientilist networks, and demand a fair distribution of wealth and jobs. These have been reserved for Ba’ath Party members and certain religious denominations, the Alawites, and to some extent the Christians. An unspoken truth, well known to the unprivileged, is: “They ate the egg and the shell, and left us with nothing but straw” (Akalu al-bayda wa-l-ta’shira wa khalluna ‘ala al-hasira).
Rami Makhlouf, Bashar’s cousin, directly or indirectly controls every lucrative sector of the economy -- the Syrian branch of the Lebanese bank Byblos, aviation, property and construction companies, hotels, duty free shops, Syriatel (mobile phones), a large part of MTN (another mobile phone company) and dozens of other businesses. That’s why protesters in Deraa and Latakia set fire to the Syriatel offices.
The spontaneity of this intifada cannot disguise the disparities between town and country, and between Damascus, Aleppo and the rest of the country. The reluctance of the cities to join the revolt is nothing new: Aleppo did not erupt during the Franco-Syrian war of 1919-21, even though the Ottomans stored their weapons there. Nor did Damascus rise up during the great Syrian revolt started in 1925 against the French Mandate. So it is not surprising that the current uprising began in Deraa in the rural south.
The protesters hoped that the first unrest in Damascus on 15 and 16 March would become a large mobilisation at the heart of power. But as in 1925, it was the underprivileged suburbs of Damascus that saved the city’s honour, while in Aleppo, after much dithering, a few hundred students put the city on the uprising’s map. Neighbouring Hama mocked on 29 April: “Wake up, Aleppo!” (Sah al-nawm yâ Halab).
All these slogans mark a major break from the ideology of Middle Eastern political parties of the 20th century: They don’t refer to Arab nationalism or Islamism. Fear of the latter, more particularly of Salafism, is reinforced by the rumour that the political prisoners Bashar released on 30 March included the head of the Muslim Brotherhood, alongside common criminals. The regime has exploited this fear, and representatives of Christian institutions have been cautious, not even condemning the massacre of civilians.
The Syrian intifada has broken with the political past. Yet it reflects elements of 20th century protests: the position of the mosque in the urban environment; the mosque as refuge (where the injured and those in flight should be able to take refuge); reference to Islam in slogans (Allahu akbar); the militant as a synthesis of the traditional figures of the hero and the martyr, based on virility and virtue, rooted in national identity and the land. The uprising is the outcome of the regional situation and of internal evolution. It is profoundly popular and patriotic, a patriotism instilled and cultivated by the Ba’ath state school system.
Since the uprising has no outside support from the region or internationally, its future depends on its ability to mobilise, and on uncertain factors such as divisions within the army, and the rallying of religious leaders, prominent figures or towns from minority communities. The protesters know this and appeal to the Druze, Christian and Alawite minorities in the name of national unity. Appeals to the army are less frequent: “Syrian army, all powerful, protect Deraa from being surrounded” (Al-jeish al-suri yâ jabbâr radduw ‘an Der’â al-hisâr).
The army, formerly in the political vanguard and glorious through the anti-colonial struggle, but since discredited (through the exercise of power rather than its defeats against Israel ) could embody the main hope of the intifada in the absence of other realistic prospects.
Translated by Stephanie Irvine
Zénobie is a journalist in Damascus.
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