When Syrians demanded an end to Bashar al-Assad’s rule in 2011, they did not shout for it, they sang it.
Leading these cries were activists and songwriters who led the crowds.
At the heart of the Syrian revolution that, 13 years on, brought down the Assad regime, were the brave masses who took to the streets and chanted for change.
Their songs of defiance, which were met with bullets and barbarism, will never be forgotten.
For decades, Assad’s name was spoken in whispers, such was the fear and violence that underpinned Syria’s police state and notorious security services, who were always said to be listening.
Silence for safety was the tradeoff for anyone living under five decades of Assad rule. In March 2011, the Syrian people broke their silence, once and for all, following the torture of 15 students in Daraa who were guilty of spaying anti-government graffiti.
At the heart of the nationwide protests that ensued were music, songs and chants that carried the revolution forward for months, unleashing Assad’s slaughter.
“Despite the government’s violence and attacks, there are demonstrations every night,” described an Al Jazeera journalist in 2012, who spent months undercover with Syrian protesters.
“People come out in defiance. [They feel compelled] to go out and sing and insult the regime and its thugs. It makes them feel they’re human, that they have dignity and freedom, even if just for that moment in time. A unique subculture of protest music has arisen across Syria. The songs are in your head all the time, all day long, even the kids are singing them.”
Ibrahim Qashoush
Crucial to the daily gatherings and demonstrations of the Syrian revolution were the activists who led the protest chants.
While there were many such individuals, Ibrahim Qashoush is already remembered as a national hero.
In early 2011, viral YouTube clips of him singing Yalla Erhal Ya Bashar (Come On Bashar, Leave) immortalised him as a national hero.
Many have described this song as one of the revolution’s anthems.
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Beyond Qashoush’s piercing voice against the derbeke (arab drum), Yalla Erhal Ya Bashar was one of the first songs to openly insult and mock the Assad family:
“Get out Bashar! Leave us alone, take Maher and get out. You’ve lost legitimacy with us. O Bashar, you thief, go to hell along with your Baath party. We prefer death to humiliation.”
The 33-year-old fireman, and the father of three boys, had always loved playing with words and writing poetry.
Qashoush’s body was found by a river in his hometown, Hama, in July 2011, his throat cut and his vocal cords ripped out – a brutal and symbolic murder that only escalated the Syrian protest movement.
Following the killing, which made major international headlines, thousands attended the funeral in Hama. But in a fascinating (and potentially true) story that emerged in 2016, some claim that Qashoush is very much still alive, only adding to the mythology surrounding this icon of the uprising.
Abdul Baset al-Sarout
Beyond Qashoush, the other widely recognised “singer of the Syrian revolution” is Abdul Baset al-Sarout.
Sarout, who was already quite famous in Syria as a promising goalkeeper for the national youth team, is best known for his protest song Jana Jana (Heaven Heaven) – which he sang at rallies in his hometown, Homs.
In early 2012, Sarout told Al Jazeera: “I can’t go to protests a lot anymore, [Assad’s people] really want to kill me, they are really targeting me.”
Sarout survived. But as the revolution descended into civil war, he took up arms and led a unit of rebel fighters throughout the siege of Homs, and later on a regiment with the Free Syrian Army.
His role in Syria’s uprising and conflict was the subject of Return to Homs, a documentary film that won an award at the 2014 Sundance Film Festival.
In 2019, Sarout died while fighting regime forces in Hama. To the sound of speakers blaring Jana Jana, he was laid to rest in a funeral that was attended by hundreds.
“In a democratic Syria, Sarout would have been a pro goalkeeper these past eight years, perhaps transferring to bigger clubs in Egypt or the Gulf, or, who knows, moving like Salah to the UK Premiership. Instead, Assad’s rule gave him bullets, airstrikes, siege and a violent death at the age of 27,” wrote Alex Rowell, of New Lines Magazine, following the news of Sarout’s death.
“Today we lost our voice. Words won’t be enough to tell our pain,” said one prominent Syrian journalist on X, speaking for many.
Artists unknown
Sarout was a rare example of a protest leader who kept his face uncovered, an unabashed show of force and vulnerability.
Many songwriters and protest leaders did their best to conceal their identity, given the obvious dangers of activism against the regime and to this day, many songs have nameless artists.
Take Tears Are Pouring, for example, one of the revolution’s most popular demonstration songs but it remains unclear who wrote it.
The same is true of The Baathis Went Crazy, possibly the most energetic anti-Assad anthem, rampant with mockery and insults.
However, the most vitriolic and humorous song from the era of Syria’s mass street protests is most likely, Murderer with a Forked Tongue, which was turned into a music video too. See the translated lyrics below:
Song: Murderer With a Forked Tongue
Artist: unknown
He is laughing
He has his mouth open
He is killing us shamelessly
Shamelessly
He, his father
His brother, and his uncle
Robbed the people and broke their hearts
Broke their hearts
Wild with no shame
We know how to deal with him
Long neck
And a tongue thrust
A demon in human form
In human form
The son of the one who sold
Sold the Golan
He handed Syria to Iran
That bastard
A traitor playing with his own blood
We know how to deal with him
No matter how much his dogs
Bark at us
Nothing they do will work
Nothing they do
If they put this paradise
In his hand
We will get rid of him and his parents
Him and his parents
A failure with no shame
We know how to deal with him
This germ
He is like no one
But the rat Al Gaddafi
Al Gaddafi
His security
And his barefoot army
Ruled by a giraffe
A giraffe
A murder playing with his own blood
We know how to deal with him
They are bastards
A murderous family
Defiled and they should be executed
Should be executed
They will be gone
They have but days to live
Even if Hafeiz came back to life
Came back to life
Syria is ours not theirs
We know how to punish them
Sebastian Shehadi is a freelance journalist and a contributing writer at the New Statesman
Follow him on X: @seblebanon
