‘Dictators die, the people live on’: What Syria’s revolution means for those who fled Assad’s regime
A month on, Syrians in Britain reflect on the changes in their home country after the revolution of 8 December
by: Sumaiya Motara
10 Jan 2025
Thousands Of Syrians Gather In The Center Of The Capital, Damascus, Celebrating The Overthrow Of Bashar Al-Assad’s Regime, Raising The Flags Of The Syrian Revolution On December 20, 2024. Image: Rami Alsayed/NurPhoto/Shutterstock
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A protest of solidarity for the Syrian revolution was advertised widely across Manchester. In just five hours, this shifted to a “euphoric” celebration. “It was the happiest day of my life,” said Zain Alsoud, one of the hundreds of Syrians who packed St Peter’s Square in Manchester’s city centre on 8 December. People from as far as Liverpool and Leeds gathered, joyously singing, dancing, crying and waving Syria’s revolutionary flag. Fireworks and music lasted well into the night.
This day celebrated the fall of Bashar al-Assad and Damascus’ capture by opposition forces led by Hay’at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS). In just 11 days, HTS ended the al-Assad family’s brutal, authoritarian 53-year regime. The takeover happened so quickly that until 8 December, many Syrians said they had lost all hope in their home country.
Traumatised from al-Assad’s response to Syria’s 2011 protests – when a revolution was brutally repelled – many believed HTS would face a similar end. “I thought fighter jets would bombard and flatten the rebels out of existence,” said Adam, whose name has changed to protect his identity, a 21-year-old Syrian refugee who came to Manchester in 2022. “I never expected them to capture Damascus.”
As rebel forces progressed into the capital, Adam had to call and reassure his family in Syria – facing censorship, and electricity and internet cuts – that HTS were “good people liberating Syria”, he says, not “bloodthirsty terrorists”.
“My family weren’t happy at the start,” admitted Mohammed Dakak, who fled Syria as a child, moving from Greece to Spain before settling in Manchester. “We didn’t know who was out there. But we realised HTS fighters were the children who had to leave their homes in Aleppo, Hama and Idlib and came back when they got older to free Syria. Then, we were happy and cheering.”
Yaman Nashawi, a University of Manchester student, has family in Damascus. His grandmother and aunt were previously inmates at the infamous Sednaya prison, known as the ‘human slaughterhouse’. Although still fearlessly anti-regime, Yaman’s grandmother was worried. She feared a mass loss of life mirroring the post-revolution massacres. “They were only happy when the rebels took control of Damascus,” said Yaman.
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‘I’m not upset, these are happy tears’
Prisons under al-Assad became synonymous with torture, sexual abuse and extra-judicial killings. Anyone who spoke out against the regime would be abducted, building a culture of spying, fear and mistrust.
Belal, aged 19, fled Syria in 2012 with his family and now studies in Manchester. Many of his family members, even the non-political, have disappeared. Some have been killed.
Belal, also anonymised for fear his extended family in Syria could still be targeted, said his family is fearful of every government – not just Syria’s.
“Think of North Korea,” said Belal. “That’s Syria.”
Similarly, medical student Zain compared al-Assad’s regime to the Red Terror, the campaign of political repression and executions which took place in Russia from 1918-1922. Several of her cousins were arrested and are still missing. One cousin, Abdullah Alsoud, was abducted in 2013. Zain’s family did not know if he was alive or dead until 2019 when they found out he was killed in prison. Zain said her uncle “had lived so many years not knowing what had happened to his son”.
“I almost wished death for the prisoners because death is more merciful,” she said, crying. “Not knowing what’s happened to them is the worst feeling. You can’t do anything about it. You’d be thrown in prison for talking about it. It’s emotional to see these released prisoners reunited with their families. I’m not upset, these are happy tears.”
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Adam has not achieved closure about his uncle who was imprisoned in 2012. Adam’s uncle, a non-political taxi driver, was accused of terrorism. After paying prisons and courts for information, Adam’s family were told he was executed in 2014. They were handed his clothes and ID as proof.
Adam, who fled to England when he was 19, maintains there is no evidence his uncle was killed. “It’s difficult to see videos of the bodies piled up in Sednaya, but I’m holding out hope,” he said. “I’m constantly on the news looking for his name.”
Adam’s father was on the run as a fugitive in Syria one week before HTS began their offensive. “From God’s mercy the rebels came just in time,” said Adam. His family were targeted by the regime multiple times, and his father had to wear a disguise, move his family to a different city, sell his car and pay someone to remove attention from himself. To escape the regime, Adam swam five kilometres across the Mediterranean Sea from Morocco to a Spanish island before being rescued.
Halla Akhtar, 46, is a human rights activist and refugee who was also forced to flee. She provided civil and psychosocial assistance in Aleppo and escaped after she was threatened with arrest. “I continued working in activism, collaborating with organisations inside Syria. But workshops were secret. The attendees used fake names to protect themselves from the regime.”
Fear was not the only oppressive tool used. “Bashar’s mentality was ‘starve your dog and he’ll follow you’,” said Adam. “He kept people in hunger, pain and struggle. Hungry people will never have the energy to think about rebelling. The whole of Syria was a human slaughterhouse.”
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Many Syrians lost their homes. Many lost their lives.
“My house was burnt whilst I was there,” confided Belal. “It was bombed twice. I lost family members. To console someone in Syria, we say: ‘Be thankful you lost wealth rather than family.’ It’s about finding the silver lining to cope.”
‘Hope in the air’
The silver lining now is the lifting of Bashar al-Assad’s oppressive regime. “This is the first breath of fresh air in 13 years,” said Belal. “Actually, 53 years.”
Syrians celebrating in Manchester said this day was “pure euphoria” and “ineffable relief”. Many could not express their feelings in words. “Everyone was hugging each other,” said Halla. “Even people they didn’t know. I felt hope in the air.”
Mohammed felt like Syrians were finally unified. “The Assad regime split us,” he said. “We were afraid of Christians. We were afraid of different kinds of Muslims. We were afraid of ourselves. But yesterday, we were all celebrating – Christians, Muslims, together.”
For many, seeing the Syrian revolutionary flag waved was also a significant moment. This flag, with a green strip instead of red, was a symbol of resistance. “When we protested with this flag in Syria, we knew we could be bombed at any time,” said Belal. “I remember we held the flags, lifted our fingers, and swore we would never leave Syria. So seeing it being fearlessly waved was very emotional.”
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Yaman said Syria used to be associated with “war, corruption, tyranny, regime and dictators”. Now, there is “pride and patriotism”.
Belal echoed this, saying: “Syrians have long been unwelcome refugees – seen as a pain in the backside and taking homes and jobs. Finally, we can say we are proud of who we are. We are here by choice rather than force.
“I don’t have positive memories of Syria but I still miss it. Although I’ve grown up, gone to school, and made friends here, there’s a feeling in my heart that I want to move back home.”
However, Syrian refugees wishing to build their careers before returning are now afraid after the British Government paused Syrian asylum decisions.
Halla is frustrated, “shocked,” and “disgusted” at the Government’s decision, which keeps many refugees in limbo. “Every Syrian person hopes to return and contribute to building the new Syria,” said Halla. “But not like this.”
“We should work on ourselves in the privilege of freedom and safety we’ve been given in England,” said Zain. “We should make ourselves the best possible people. Then we can put that energy towards Syria and be the generation which builds Syria up.”
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‘People feel happier and safer with the rebels’
But what of Syria’s future? HTS is creating a transitional government according to international law. They have freed thousands of prisoners and said they will protect minorities.
Syrian Christian and Alawite minority groups are uneasy, sporadically erupting into protests and violence. But HTS leader Ahmed al-Sharaa has met with Christian clerics and has denounced revenge killings against Alawites – the offshoot of Shia Islam that al-Assad belongs to.
“My family were afraid in the beginning because HTS didn’t have a good reputation with Christians,” said Halla, whose Syrian-Christian family lives in Aleppo, in northern Syria. “But their behaviour was so good with the people, especially with Christians, and they felt there was no danger. I’ve never heard my mother so joyful and optimistic.”
Software engineering student Mohammed, also from Aleppo, said his family saw the changes immediately as the new government came into power. “There are no more queues for bread or petrol,” he said. “People feel happier and safer with the rebels. We have mixed feelings, but anything is better than al-Assad’s regime.”
In the month since al-Assad fled, Israel has launched over 800 strikes on Syria and has invaded the buffer zone in the illegally occupied Golan Heights. Pro-Assadists have clashed with HTS forces, killing six. But Syrians in Manchester are choosing to live in the moment.
“It’s like 8 December was our only day of happiness,” said 22-year-old Zain. “We’re not thinking about the consequences. Even one prisoner released from Sednaya is worth all of that. This is a symbol that dictators die but the people will live on.”
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Sumaiya Motara is a freelance journalist based in the North West covering politics, culture and human interest stories.