This is Part 3 of a four-part series by Shahira Salloum, managing editor of Al-Araby Al-Jadeed, reflecting on her January trip to Syria following the Assad regime’s collapse, where she spoke with locals about the dramatic changes underway in the country.
Click here for the rest of the series and stay tuned for Part 4 which will come out next week.
As you drive from Damascus, through its rural outer suburbs and out towards the northwestern provinces of Syria, the devastation of a country laid waste by a criminal regime accompanies you all the way.
From Qaboun, which was completely flattened, to Harasta, Douma to Talbiseh, Rastan, Maarin, Ghouta, Khan Sheikhoun, Jisr al-Shughur, and many more of Idlib and Aleppo’s towns, scores of towns and neighbourhoods have been destroyed by the Assad regime at different stages of the 14-year war.
We pass by countless bombed-out multistorey buildings, teetering precariously with their plundered interiors exposed.
Some of the destroyed cities and towns have been abandoned, widespread looting obvious from concrete structures stripped bare of doors, windows and furniture; even the metal fixtures have been scavenged by the looters, presumably to extract the iron and sell it.
You quickly learn to distinguish whether regime or Russian bombing was responsible for the wreckage – if a building is roofless, and is partially collapsed due to some walls or reinforcing columns having crumbled – you’re in front of a regime bombing. However, if the wreckage consists only of a massive pile of rubble, you’re looking at the results of a Russian airstrike.
On the outskirts of what became known by the regime’s opponents as “Al-Muharrar” (“the liberated area”), one can see sprawling red earthen barriers, two or three metres high, separating the area which lay under regime control from that held by opposition factions. Between the two areas, is a vast empty space – this was a military zone. Beyond that, terraced olive fields stretch as far as the eye can see, to the gates of the Idlib Governorate.
Features of rudimentary rule in Idlib
The Idlib province was a focal point of the protests during the Syrian revolution’s peaceful beginnings. It was also in Idlib’s Jisr al-Shughur that the first bullets were fired against regime forces in 2011, and it was in Idlib’s southern countryside that the first militant opposition group formed to take up arms against the regime.
In the years that followed, countless armed factions were born in Idlib — some of which rose, fell, and then disappeared. It became a destination for the regime’s opponents from the other governorates and a refuge for the displaced; its population swelled from 165,000 in 2011 to over five million today.
Fourteen years after the Syrian war began, opposition fighters led by Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) would make their way to Damascus, and their leader would take his place in the People’s Palace. The group has brought with it some experience in governance gained through its years of rule in Idlib.
[Amer Elsayed Ali]
Entering Idlib, the contrast in living conditions from the rest of Syria is obvious – from the state of the roads, infrastructure, houses, markets, industrial cities, and the availability of goods and basic services (electricity, internet, heating and fuel). The crowds, and bustling, lively atmosphere are other differences we discern.
HTS manages Idlib governorate, militarily, security-wise, politically and economically, using several branches. The Syrian Salvation Government (SSG), formed in 2017, represents the political-administrative wing of HTS’ governance. It contains 11 ministries, an economic council, and several directorates which manage people’s day-to-day affairs.
With the transfer of HTS’ power base to Damascus to form an interim government, the SSG’s ministries have been turned into directorates.
On security, military and intelligence levels, HTS has three distinct arms:-
- The military arm, which contains the fighters. Among its combat forces, people here talk about the “Red Gangs” and the “Tiger Unit”.
- The police arm, which operates under the Ministry of Interior and is responsible for handling lower-risk security matters.
- The General Security Service, which deals with Islamic State (IS) related issues, organised crime and drug trafficking. According to protesters we spoke with, this unit has also been accused of committing violations against demonstrators. Following pressure from the protests, this apparatus was recently placed under the Ministry of Interior.
Service provision in the “liberated areas” was previously almost totally reliant on international aid. HTS cut its direct ties to this sector, which was run by local organisations supported by NGOs, so aid wouldn’t be hindered due to the sanctions on the militant group.
When it came to HTS financing its rule militarily and economically in Idlib, it did this through “Zakat” (the obligatory tax required of Muslims) and donations – the latter opening the door to foreign funding of unknown providence.
With relation to Zakat, a 2.5% levy (under Islamic law) is taken from the olive and wheat crops, as well as on the profits made by commercial stores, and so on.
Another source of revenue comes via taxes imposed at crossings, and for utilities like electricity and water, which are added to the basic bills for these services and handled by private companies linked to HTS.
Tax collection, both direct and indirect, has faced local criticism, and opponents of the SSG have called it a form of extortion.
Opposition to HTS and the secret prisons
If we want to predict how the new authorities will deal with opposition, we can look at the descriptions of its prisons, and the protests against HTS rule across Idlib.Â
The protests against the rule of Abu Mohammed al-Jolani first broke out in Idlib city in late February 2024, as well as in the towns of Binnish and Sarmada, before spreading to other parts of the province.
According to HTS’ opponents in the province who took part, the current calm is more of a truce brought about by wider developments – Syria’s liberation from the Assad regime – rather than a permanent resolution to their issues with HTS.
Rami Abdulhaq, a Syrian artist living in Idlib, was a leading figure in Idlib’s protests. He was arrested and jailed by HTS twice, once in 2018 and then again in 2024.
He described to us some of the methods HTS used during the protests, for example surrounding demonstrators with General Security Service vehicles, filming them, infiltrating them with security agents to provoke unrest, and smearing those involved.
Another individual who initially supported the protests tells us that although he agreed with the protesters’ demands, the demonstrations later turned into riots after they were infiltrated by the extremist Hizb-ut-Tahrir group, which calls for an Islamic Caliphate.
As for the infamous secret prisons, we were unable to verify these or visit them – Abdulhaq informs us that when such a prison is exposed it is transferred elsewhere, as happened with Shaheen prison (where he was imprisoned the first time) and Uqab prison. He mentions another non-secret prison, named Branch 107, in Sarmada, where political prisoners are kept.
He believes there may well be secret prisons in the underground basements of HTS’ security and military headquarters. He says the second prison he was in was secret; he was taken there blindfolded and shackled and has no idea where it was. When transferred to solitary confinement for interrogation, he said he was either blindfolded, or the interrogators were masked.
In interrogations, he was questioned about the protests, those “inciting them in the cities”, and they searched his phone, before shifting to general questions about his opinion on the HTS rule and the mistakes he thought it was making (he believes this was an attempt to set a trap for him).
He doesn’t mention being subjected to torture but does indicate that he was aware of certain methods of torture being used in HTS prisons – specifically beatings and electric shocks.
As well as our discussions on secret prisons and the suppression of protests, the issue of foreign fighters in HTS and other armed factions comes up with some Idlib residents, to which defence is readily prepared: “These people left their lands and fought with us; they are fighters in non-leadership positions,” as Sharaa himself has said – it’s a narrative repeated by his supporters and some of his “soft” opponents.
A hospital director in Idlib tells us these fighters are now part of Syria’s situation, having spent many years here, and having established homes and families. He tells us that they will ultimately obtain citizenship (soon after this conversation the interim administration appointed fighters from the factions to leadership positions, among them militants from Albania, Jordan, Tajikistan, Turkey, and China).
Jolani was the “leader of the liberated area” – but after the liberation, he metamorphosed into Ahmed al-Sharaa – the “leader of Syria’s liberation”, in the words of a public relations official in the new interim government.
Jolani-Sharaa is a somewhat contentious figure in Idlib. Some, like Adbulhaq, see in him a controlling character whose pragmatism reaches the point of provocation. He is someone who won’t tolerate opponents or competitors – and for this reason, you never see “another man” in the picture, they say.
Others fiercely oppose the practices of HTS, but seem open to the persona Sharaa has assumed as the liberator of Damascus; these people are “against Jolani, but with Sharaa”.
As for his supporters, they repeat his statements verbatim: “The priority now is rebuilding the country. Demonstrating is a right, but within the law and without violence or rioting.”
Fuaa and its sisters
Close to Binnish, the epicentre of Idlib’s protests lies Fuaa; an ancient, impoverished town. Its narrow, crumbling alleyways and dilapidated houses emanate a palpable sense of misery.
Before the revolution, over 11,000 people lived here, the majority of whom were Shia. Today, it is inhabited by families expelled from other towns and villages by the regime during the revolution.Â
When we were in Damascus, we learned from displaced locals — whose homes had been occupied by the families of fighters from Iran-backed militias or Hezbollah — that they had returned to their original towns. Some were from Zabadani, while others displaced from Qusayr in Homs had also returned, as those who had occupied their land fled.
So, will the people of Fuaa return to their town?
When we asked locals in Binnish this question, their immediate response was a resounding “No”. Between Binnish and Fuaa there is now a bitter history marked by horrific crimes, bloodshed, and the desire for vengeance.
However, after some back-and-forth, they reconsider: “Let’s wait a year until emotions settle, then we’ll see.”
During the revolution, Fuaa was a regime stronghold and a base in which its allied sectarian militias, including Hezbollah fighters, were entrenched.
Fuaa was the launchpad for bombing campaigns against Binnish and neighbouring towns. Later, it became a target for opposition factions, along with nearby Kafraya, which also had a Shia majority.
Both towns were besieged and bombarded until the battles were brought to a close with a transfer deal, exchanging the Shia populations of Fuaa and Kafraya for the Sunni populations of Madaya and Zabadani.
Fuaa’s situation resembles that of many other mixed areas where sectarian clashes took place. It is difficult to imagine a secure future for Syria without a comprehensive reconciliation programme being promoted which will allow the displaced to return to their towns and villages, and build and strengthen mechanisms for coexistence.
But as the saying goes, “The people of Mecca know its paths best.” (An Arabic proverb indicating here that it should be up to the Syrian people themselves to decide how this should happen – translator’s note).
The journey to liberate Damascus as told by its fighters
Our tour around the former liberated areas wouldn’t be complete without meeting some of the fighters involved in the operation which toppled the dictator in just 11 days.
A group of militants from one faction which took part in the operation sat down with us and shared their story.
The operation was launched at exactly 6:00 am on Wednesday, November 27 of last year, from the liberated areas in eastern Idlib province towards western Aleppo, with combat units moving simultaneously toward several key sites.
Fierce fighting with regime forces ensued, amid intensive Russian airstrikes. The first village to be liberated was Sheikh Aqil in western Aleppo, and after that, the opposition fighters started retaking one town after another.
An operations room official from Faylaq Al-Sham (the Sham Legion) tells us the faction’s first battle took place in Saraqib, after which they advanced towards Khan Sheikhoun without encountering resistance.
They then regrouped and resumed their advance toward the outskirts of Hama, where fierce battles raged for three days, resulting in heavy casualties.
While gathered close to the town of al-Asharna (on the outskirts of Hama) they received orders at 3:00 am: “The town will be handed over without a fight”, which was exactly what happened. They entered the town at 5:00 am, at which point they received news that the regime’s army had collapsed in Homs after clashes with opposition forces, requiring them to move immediately.
By this point, the Russian airstrikes that were continuous in the initial days of the battle had ceased; the last raid was on the Rastan Bridge between Homs and Hama, they say. Ironically, one of them tells us, the Russian strikes didn’t target the fighters as they advanced in the provinces and cities and liberated them — most of their targets were civilians.
This came as no surprise to Syrians, as one of the distinct features of Russia’s bombing ever since it intervened militarily in the country in 2015 was how its forces seemed to lie in wait for civilian gatherings – no sooner than a large crowd gathered at a market or a busy intersection than an airstrike would suddenly hit, we’re told.
This appeared consistent with our observations of the damage done by Russia’s final airstrikes, one of which was of a hospital in Idlib city, which was left out-of-service, and several civilian homes were also targeted – all were bombed at a point when the fighters were over 150 km away.
We’re later told by a public relations official in the new administration that their plans for the operation only went as far as Aleppo. However, the unimaginable happened.
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The fall of town after town, followed by the complete liberation of Homs on December 7, 2024, was perceived as heralding the imminent fall of Damascus into rebel hands. For the fighters on the Hama front, the road to Damascus (220 km) took a six-hour journey amidst heavy traffic.
A few hours after Homs was liberated, the fighters received updated orders: “March for Damascus”, triggering a race between the northern and southern factions towards the capital.
The southern factions won, entering the city first, followed by the northern factions, which began the process of securing the city and taking control. These fighters never imagined they would simply march into Damascus unopposed.
“We were expecting brutal battles for at least six months, not to enter the city in a few hours. We didn’t expect that,” one fighter explains.
“They were terrified,” interjects another fighter, analysing the panic that led regime soldiers to abandon their vehicles and bases and flee.
A fighter from Kafrouma, in the Maarat al-Numan area, which was liberated early on, spoke about returning to his destroyed town as a fighter. His companion describes the scenes they were met with as mothers and families were gathered to greet them at the entrances to the larger cities.
“The people’s joy was even greater than our joy! The people felt freedom, they welcomed us with cheers, sweets, flowers, and rice.”
Throwing rice is a custom among the people of Damascus during joyful occasions and reunions with loved ones after a long separation.
Our two interlocutor’s expressions change, and their voices soften as they talk about freeing the prisoners: “The families urged us to hurry to the prisons in Damascus, desperate for us to beat death to reach their children.”
Mohammed, 21, hurriedly left his new bride to go to battle after being called up on November 27. When we asked him to tell us about the moment he received orders to head to Damascus, he was visibly overcome, and started laughing and repeating excitedly: “To Damascus? We couldn’t believe it, Damascus, oh my God, Damascus!”
He goes over the scene again and again, his excitement and enthusiasm brimming over – like he wants to relive the joy of that moment again and again, wishing that moment could be frozen in time.
Many of the fighters we met, of similar ages to Mohammed, had been displaced from cities in the Rif Dimashq area (Damascus Countryside), or from rebellious villages and towns in other areas, or had fled to northern Syria as teenagers — particularly at the age they were due to enter military service.
These young men had spent more than half their lives at war against an oppressive security regime and had suffered their share of its crimes. They had never received lessons in the “nationalism” module that used to be a core module in Syrian schools, nor did they loudly chant: “Long live Assad, long live the Baath” as students used to do in Syrian schoolyards while saluting the Syrian and Baath flags. They are religious, but with the ordinary, everyday faith we are familiar with from our people in Damascus.
We also notice that fear doesn’t dominate their nature, nor does their behaviour reflect the upbringing of a security regime. They express themselves openly and don’t hesitate to criticise any faction or authority.
Even the older fighters among them speak frankly as they direct a message to the new administration: They need to work to ensure they are “worthy of the sacrifices of the Syrian people.”
This is an edited translation from our Arabic edition.
This article is taken from our Arabic sister publication, Al-Araby Al Jadeed and mirrors the source’s original editorial guidelines and reporting policies. Any requests for correction or comment will be forwarded to the original authors and editors
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