Young Syrians’ Hope for a Future Beyond War
The sudden collapse of Bashar al-Assad’s decades-long rule after December’s lightning rebel offensive has left a sense of cautious hope among Syria’s youth. Our reporter traveled to Damascus to document their hopes and fears.
Protesters at Umayyad Square on December 13. (Courtesy of Omar Hamed Beato)
As midday approaches in Damascus, Syria’s capital, thousands of people from all corners of the country converge on Umayyad Square, the city’s political and geographical heart. The square, once dominated by ministries of the ousted regime, now echoes with chants of, “Syrian, Syrian, Syrian, the Syrian people are one.”
It has been just five days since Bashar al-Assad fled the country and a coalition of rebel forces took control of the capital. Among the jubilant crowd is Abdullah Sakallah, a thirty-four-year-old photographer and videographer, who, like many, has come to celebrate his new sense of freedom. “This is the first time that everyone is gathering together” Sakallah says.
We are trying to connect with each other and see how people react. We don’t believe it. If you want to believe something, you want to see it, right? We want to believe that Assad is gone and there is no army on the streets. I have so many feelings, flashbacks and worries. Is it really happening?
Sakallah, like countless others, was forcefully conscripted into the military during the brutal thirteen-year-long civil war that followed the 2011 Arab Spring. He served for over a decade before being released from service in 2022. “I lost my youth because of military service. Every young man like me who has served in the army has lost ten years of his life,” he reflects, sipping a coffee. “But now I have hope. We have a new start, a new dream.”
Under Assad’s rule, hundreds of thousands of young Syrians fled to neighboring countries like Lebanon, Turkey, or Jordan to avoid conscription and participation in Assad’s brutal war, which included repeated chemical attacks on civilians. Fleeing military service often led to cruel punishment, including torture and long imprisonment. Over 135,000 Syrians are believed to have been detained by regime forces, most of whom will never be found by their families.
Hope in the Streets
“We need time to heal. This is the most important thing people need right now,” says Sakallah. “Before, every young person in Syria was working for one reason: to travel abroad. They couldn’t fulfill their dreams. Now things have changed, I want to see my country in peace. We need the chance to rise. We would like to see democracy. We are one people. God willing, it will happen.”
However, the road to a peaceful Syria is far from straightforward. Ahmed Hussein al-Sharaa, better known as al-Jolani, the leader of the main Islamist rebel group that ousted the regime, now oversees a religiously diverse and fragmented country. With ministries increasingly filled by figures close to al-Jolani — whose group once had ties to al-Qaeda — many young and secular Syrians worry that one oppressive regime could be replaced with another. Despite al-Jolani’s promises of elections within the next four years, fears persist about the imposition of more conservative social policies.
While the political future remains uncertain, young Syrians are taking their newfound sense of freedom to the streets. Mount Qasioun, a hill overlooking Damascus that was off-limits under Assad, is now alive with food and shisha vendors. From this vantage point, Salah Alsheik, a nineteen-year-old who works as a cleaner in the United Arab Emirates (UAE), sees his birthplace in a new light.
“I returned two weeks ago to visit family. I wasn’t going to stay, but now it feels like home,” he says. He has decided not to return to the UAE, opting instead to remain in Syria and see what happens.
“I am optimistic. I don’t think it is going to become a religious state like the Taliban, but anything could happen. Who knows? I am used to the government being shit,” he says with a shrug. “We all have a role in Syria’s future. We should be together, not divided.”
A Generation at a Crossroads
Under Assad, arts and culture were tightly controlled and used as tools for government propaganda. Political and social criticism was strictly prohibited and severely punished. On December 21, twin brothers Mohammad and Ahmad Malas, both forty-one, returned to Syria for the first time since fleeing to France in 2011. Their homecoming marked a pivotal moment: they performed the first theatrical production since Assad’s fall, depicting their harrowing journey from Syria to France.
During the Arab Spring, the Mukhabarat — Syria’s intelligence services — raided the Malas brothers’ home at night to arrest them because of their active participation in anti-government protests. They managed to escape before being arrested, embarking on a perilous, two-year-long journey to Europe.
“We went to Jordan for the Amman International Film Festival. The regime fell, and we decided to come back,” explains Mohammad from a crowded coffee shop located in the center of Damascus the day after their performance. “Assad is a refugee, and the Malas brothers are here. It is like a dream.”
The brothers view the fall of Assad as an opportunity to revive Syria’s arts scene and foster a culture of political critique — essential, they believe, for building democracy. “Art can put its finger on the pain. Art cannot point to the solution, but it can show where the problem is,” explains Mohammad.
The mission of art today is to get people to communicate. People here don’t know how to speak freely because we were oppressed for a long time. An artist should always take a political stance — always dreaming of a better future. We want Syria for everyone, free of dictators and military rule. We want a just government. I’d rather see Al Pacino’s picture on the streets than al-Jolani’s.
Since the government’s collapse and the influx of international media, young Syrians have increasingly participated in demonstrations across the country’s major cities. Among them is Alesar Masoud, a twenty-three-year-old music student at the Higher Institute of Music in Damascus. A regular participant in pro-democracy demonstrations, Masoud advocates for freedom of expression and secularism.
“I want my voice to be heard. We want a secular Syria — one where you can walk freely, speak freely, and express yourself without the weight of patriarchy,” Masoud says during a demonstration at Umayyad Square. “Establishing a democratic system will not be easy, but I am hopeful. Our simplest problems were because of the regime. People from outside Syria had everything, while here we had nothing but many, many problems. Now life is easier. We can finally focus on creativity. Before, we couldn’t even sing on the streets.”
Rebuilding Lives After the War
Over the past few decades, about 400,000 Palestinian refugees have been displaced to Syria due to Israel’s brutal occupation of Palestine. Despite many being born in Syria, these refugees have never been granted full Syrian citizenship and have often lived near the front lines of the civil war. A striking example is the al-Yarmouk neighborhood on the outskirts of Damascus, which housed up to 160,000 Palestinian refugees in what became an unofficial refugee camp.
Al-Yarmouk has seen the worst of Syria’s civil war and was under occupation by the Islamist State from 2015 until 2018. Thousands died, and 80 percent of the camp’s homes were destroyed, all a mere ten-minute drive from central Damascus. For most young residents, peace is an unfamiliar concept.
Nayef Alsahli, a twenty-four-year-old Palestinian refugee and chef from al-Yarmouk, was only eleven when the camp was besieged and put under blockade by the Syrian Army. “I have shrapnel in my arm from a tank shell from Assad’s government. I didn’t go to a hospital. I had to stay at home, and that’s why the shrapnel is still there. After I was injured, I had constant panic attacks.”
Alsahli hopes the new government will bring greater freedom and opportunities for young people like him to pursue their dreams. Less than three weeks after the takeover of Damascus, he traveled more than two hundred miles — to the other side of the country — to purchase a food truck. It’s a step toward starting his own business in Damascus. Under Assad, exorbitant taxes on vehicles made this dream impossible. “We had a lot of problems with Assad. Taxes were very high. I want to make my dream real. I want my food truck to look beautiful, with an ice cream machine,” he says.
Despite the challenges ahead, Alsahli remains optimistic about the future. “My father was born here. I was born here. And I will make my dreams come true here.”