All Quiet on the Damascus Front
A handout picture released by the Syrian Arab News Agency (SANA) shows Moroccan advance team leader Colonel Ahmed Himmiche (C- left), a member of a UN monitors team tasked with monitoring the UN-backed ceasefire in Syria, and two other UN monitors as they visit a suburb of the Syrian capital Damascus on 18 April 2012. (Photo: AFP - HO - SANA)
There’s little sign of revolution in the Syrian capital. Either it is simmering underground awaiting the moment to surface, or the confidence expressed by the regime is well-founded.
The Syrian customs officers at the Jdaidet Yabous border gate still use sheets of newspaper as sunshades. A front page of the Saudi-owned dailyal-Hayat is stuck on the window of their office. It was a rather old issue. That day’s news about Syria was at the foot of the page – low-key, like coverage of Syria in the House of Saud’s media used to be. The top story was about Yemen, the second about Egypt, and the statement made by Syrian Foreign Minister Walid al-Muallem was along the bottom.
There’s nothing at the border to suggest you’re in a country wracked by revolution. While the vehicle searches are no longer conducted on the basis of “trust” between the security men and drivers, they do not hold travellers up. The numbers of people crossing these days is comparable to an ordinary day before March 2011 – about as many on a weekend as there used to be on a weekday.
The highway to Damascus is unchanged. Revolutions do not alter geography. Drivers still fear being caught speeding by the radar trap. The only new feature is an intelligence check point near a complex over which flies the flag of the UAE construction firm Emaar. It seems slightly token. The men appear more relaxed than those in the intelligence patrol that has long guarded the road leading to the Emir of Qatar’s hilltop palace.
This is the territory of the Fourth Division of the Syrian army, but none of its members are visible outside barracks. From above, the minaret-strewn city seems to have no eastern boundaries, only Mount Qasioun.
Life within the capital of the Omayyads retains its normal leisurely pace. The streets are no more or less busy than in recent years, and there is little evidence of heightened security measures. The only street in Damascus to have been closed off since the start of the crisis is one where a building housing the armed forces general staff is located. The damage done by the blast which recently targeted the state security building has been repaired. The external wall has been rebuilt and only needs a coat of paint. Some officials still move about the city virtually unprotected. Even at highly sensitive official premises, visible security procedures have not departed from the pre-9/11 norm.
Security and military developments in Syria today, apparently, are to Damascus what the fighting at Nahr al-Bared camp in northern Lebanon was to Beirut – the impact can be seen mainly in the concern on people’s faces.
Foreigners are only permitted to buy cell-phones directly from one of the two operating companies. In some mobile phone stores, the salesmen will not allow you to use their phones for a minute, even if you pay.
But none of this prevents the people of the city from going about their lives as always. Traffic policemen man the crossroads. Shopkeepers receive their customers, though sales have been hit by the lack of tourists, the sharp rise in prices (which later eased), and the daily deterioration of the economy. The cafes are open, and fill up from early evening – one up-market establishment in Mezze looks like an exhibition of designer clothes and handbags. Although electricity generators have appeared in front of some buildings, supplies are steadily improving. Rationing has been eased in the capital, and in some districts the electricity is cut off for as little as an hour per day.
The security incidents in the news occur at some distance from Damascus. What was worrying people last weekend was the reported kidnapping of two children in an area to the east of the capital near the Lebanese border. The parents had to pay a ransom for them to be freed, but in the end three of the kidnappers were caught.
The city’s trees, walls and pylons have been taken over by banners promoting candidates for forthcoming elections to the People’s Assembly. But most of them are devoid of politics – other the appearance of the term “reform” in some of the slogans. “People have not changed yet,” observes a regime insider.
On the political level, the color seems to have returned to the faces of Syrian officials. Even the most pessimistic among them are more confident about the future. Several factors contribute to this: the cohesion of the army, security establishment and the diplomatic corps; the fact that state institutions, though sclerotic, still function; the stance taken by most people in Damascus, Aleppo and several other provinces; and the rallying of the minorities around the president.
In other words, a sizeable proportion of Syria’s Sunnis still want the regime to survive. President Bashar Assad said at a private gathering some weeks ago that it was the Sunnis who had safeguarded Syria. Such a remark sounds uncharacteristic of the Syrian leadership, but sources close to it affirm that this is what Assad believes.
On the external front, official confidence has also been bolstered by a variety of factors – though three are particularly important: namely, Russia, China and Iran.
Moscow has come to play a decisive role in the Syrian regime’s handling of the crisis. It no longer comes as a surprise to hear a senior Syrian official saying: “We wanted to launch an internal dialogue some weeks ago, but our Russian friends advised us to postpone that step so as not to impede Kofi Annan’s mission.”
Under the Annan plan, according to the official, the deployment of observers should enable the forces of law and order to reassert control and ensure security for the public. Russia, meanwhile, views Syria as a first line of defence – both of its own strategic security and of its ally Iran.
These are not revolutionary times in Damascus. The regime is confident of its future and of that of the country. But those in charge also speak realistically: the crisis is set to be protracted. It will not be a matter of mere months.
This article is an edited translation from the Arabic Edition.
The Syrian customs officers at the Jdaidet Yabous border gate still use sheets of newspaper as sunshades. A front page of the Saudi-owned dailyal-Hayat is stuck on the window of their office. It was a rather old issue. That day’s news about Syria was at the foot of the page – low-key, like coverage of Syria in the House of Saud’s media used to be. The top story was about Yemen, the second about Egypt, and the statement made by Syrian Foreign Minister Walid al-Muallem was along the bottom.
There’s nothing at the border to suggest you’re in a country wracked by revolution. While the vehicle searches are no longer conducted on the basis of “trust” between the security men and drivers, they do not hold travellers up. The numbers of people crossing these days is comparable to an ordinary day before March 2011 – about as many on a weekend as there used to be on a weekday.
The highway to Damascus is unchanged. Revolutions do not alter geography. Drivers still fear being caught speeding by the radar trap. The only new feature is an intelligence check point near a complex over which flies the flag of the UAE construction firm Emaar. It seems slightly token. The men appear more relaxed than those in the intelligence patrol that has long guarded the road leading to the Emir of Qatar’s hilltop palace.
This is the territory of the Fourth Division of the Syrian army, but none of its members are visible outside barracks. From above, the minaret-strewn city seems to have no eastern boundaries, only Mount Qasioun.
Life within the capital of the Omayyads retains its normal leisurely pace. The streets are no more or less busy than in recent years, and there is little evidence of heightened security measures. The only street in Damascus to have been closed off since the start of the crisis is one where a building housing the armed forces general staff is located. The damage done by the blast which recently targeted the state security building has been repaired. The external wall has been rebuilt and only needs a coat of paint. Some officials still move about the city virtually unprotected. Even at highly sensitive official premises, visible security procedures have not departed from the pre-9/11 norm.
Security and military developments in Syria today, apparently, are to Damascus what the fighting at Nahr al-Bared camp in northern Lebanon was to Beirut – the impact can be seen mainly in the concern on people’s faces.
Foreigners are only permitted to buy cell-phones directly from one of the two operating companies. In some mobile phone stores, the salesmen will not allow you to use their phones for a minute, even if you pay.
But none of this prevents the people of the city from going about their lives as always. Traffic policemen man the crossroads. Shopkeepers receive their customers, though sales have been hit by the lack of tourists, the sharp rise in prices (which later eased), and the daily deterioration of the economy. The cafes are open, and fill up from early evening – one up-market establishment in Mezze looks like an exhibition of designer clothes and handbags. Although electricity generators have appeared in front of some buildings, supplies are steadily improving. Rationing has been eased in the capital, and in some districts the electricity is cut off for as little as an hour per day.
The security incidents in the news occur at some distance from Damascus. What was worrying people last weekend was the reported kidnapping of two children in an area to the east of the capital near the Lebanese border. The parents had to pay a ransom for them to be freed, but in the end three of the kidnappers were caught.
Syrian officials insist that acts like these are the work of the self-styled “revolutionaries.” They say many were common criminals before the start of the crisis, and when the uprising began they joined the armed opposition groups. They had always kidnapped people, but now they have become bolder, and news of their activities has more of an impact.
The city’s trees, walls and pylons have been taken over by banners promoting candidates for forthcoming elections to the People’s Assembly. But most of them are devoid of politics – other the appearance of the term “reform” in some of the slogans. “People have not changed yet,” observes a regime insider.
On the political level, the color seems to have returned to the faces of Syrian officials. Even the most pessimistic among them are more confident about the future. Several factors contribute to this: the cohesion of the army, security establishment and the diplomatic corps; the fact that state institutions, though sclerotic, still function; the stance taken by most people in Damascus, Aleppo and several other provinces; and the rallying of the minorities around the president.
To the latter can be added a host of clerics, including Sufis and adherents of the four schools of Sunni thought, who fear a Wahhabi religious takeover. They have been given a foretaste of what that might cost them. A number of clergymen have been assassinated for expressing views at odds with those of the “sheikhs of the revolution.” In Damascus, foremost of these was Sheikh Ahmad Sadeq, who paid for his declared views with his life.
In other words, a sizeable proportion of Syria’s Sunnis still want the regime to survive. President Bashar Assad said at a private gathering some weeks ago that it was the Sunnis who had safeguarded Syria. Such a remark sounds uncharacteristic of the Syrian leadership, but sources close to it affirm that this is what Assad believes.
On the external front, official confidence has also been bolstered by a variety of factors – though three are particularly important: namely, Russia, China and Iran.
Moscow has come to play a decisive role in the Syrian regime’s handling of the crisis. It no longer comes as a surprise to hear a senior Syrian official saying: “We wanted to launch an internal dialogue some weeks ago, but our Russian friends advised us to postpone that step so as not to impede Kofi Annan’s mission.”
Under the Annan plan, according to the official, the deployment of observers should enable the forces of law and order to reassert control and ensure security for the public. Russia, meanwhile, views Syria as a first line of defence – both of its own strategic security and of its ally Iran.
These are not revolutionary times in Damascus. The regime is confident of its future and of that of the country. But those in charge also speak realistically: the crisis is set to be protracted. It will not be a matter of mere months.
This article is an edited translation from the Arabic Edition.
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