---

Assad's fall once seemed unimaginable. After decades of authoritarian brutality, and a devastating war, Syrians now look to a new future.

On the morning of 8 December 2024, Damascus awakened to the sound of gunfire. For once, it was not the harbinger of war, but a celebratory cry as years of oppression under Bashar Al-Assad’s regime came to an end.

Overnight, protesters toppled the massive statue of Hafez al-Assad in Arnous Square, in the capital's suburbs, a defining and unimaginable moment that took over 13 years of horror, at least 618,000 lives, and the displacement of more than 13 million citizens, to reach.

Even as Laila happily followed the news from her home in the capital’s suburb, she was careful not to show it. Two days after the statue was torn down, and only after it was confirmed that Bashar Al-Assad had fled to Moscow, the mother of two finally summoned the courage to join those celebrating his ouster on the streets.

“We never thought this day would come,” she told The New Arab, asking for only her first name to be used, out of a deeply instilled fear she still cannot overcome.

“For years, we lived in fear of speaking even in whispers against the regime. But today, we can raise our voices without fear of prison or worse,” she added.

“Liberated Damascus is heavenly,” she said, her face beaming with smiles as she took in the rare sight of her people in joy and happiness.

What began as cautious hope in 2000, when Bashar inherited power from his father, had spiralled into authoritarian brutality, economic ruin, and a devastating civil war that reduced Syria into a failed, divided state.

The hefty residue of Assad’s regime, from severe human rights violations to pressing security threats as Israel wades deeper into Syrian territories, tarnishes Syrians’ celebrations as they worry about a complex future shaped by a broken past.

“The Assad regime didn’t just control people’s lives - it policed their minds. It planted a policeman in the brain of every Syrian, even those living in exile,” activist and media consultant Yamen Sabour laments.

Assad's neoliberal balance of power

When Bashar Al-Assad became president in 2000 at the age of 34, many hoped he would steer Syria toward modernisation.

“He was inexperienced and relied heavily on the security apparatus and figures like Mustafa Tlass to rule. Yet, there was optimism as he promised reforms and economic openness,” political analyst Ghassan Youssef explained.

For a brief period, there were signs of change. Foreign investments flowed into the country, and sectors like tourism and telecommunications thrived. However, this progress was tightly controlled, noted Youssef.

No major economic endeavour escaped the watchful eyes of the regime, particularly those of Bashar’s cousin, Rami Makhlouf. Through Makhlouf, Bashar consolidated control over telecommunications and other profitable sectors.

“Makhlouf became the regime’s cash cow, generating more money than even Syria’s oil industry,” Youssef notes.

“While Hafez Assad left the economy to private hands, his son interfered at every level. Businesses paid extortionate ‘fees,’ driving capital out of Syria. It’s why Bashar himself admitted that between 20-40 billion Syrian lira fled to Lebanon.”

By 2011, frustrations boiled over. Years of economic mismanagement, rising unemployment, inequality and political repression set the stage for an uprising that would ignite the Arab Spring in Syria.

A country torn apart

Assad responded to peaceful protests with overwhelming violence, unleashing his military on civilians. The ensuing civil war left an indelible scar on Syria: foreign fighters and rockets targeted Syrian civilians, chemical weapons and explosive barrels wiped out neighbourhoods, and extremists found a stronghold in the country.

According to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, over 617,910 people were killed, including more than 55,000 who perished under torture in the regime’s notorious detention centres.

As rebel forces freed prisoners from detention centres across the country, they discovered thousands of underground cells in Saydnaya prison, locally dubbed a "human slaughterhouse”, uncovering yet more horrific details of Assad’s network of jails.

Desperate families looking for missing loved ones pleaded for the international community to help them find a way to reach the labyrinth of prisons beneath the ground, where detainees were left without water, food, and air.

Those who survived the war and imprisonment could not escape displacement. More than 4.1 million displaced civilians are stranded in opposition-held areas in northwest Syria, many living in squalid conditions with limited access to aid.

These areas remain a microcosm of Syria’s suffering - besieged, impoverished, and forgotten by the world.

Economically, Syria’s decline has been catastrophic. A World Bank report estimates that by early 2022, infrastructure damages alone ranged from $8.7 to $11.4 billion, with physical infrastructure accounting for nearly 70% of losses. Entire cities like Aleppo, once economic hubs, lie in ruins.

Media as a tool of control

Beyond physical destruction, Assad’s regime waged a war on information. “There was never a free press under Assad. Syrian media was reduced to propaganda, repeating the regime’s rhetoric about resisting Israel and defending the homeland, while ignoring the needs of its people,” Ghassan Youssef said.

Independent journalists who dared to expose corruption or human rights abuses were jailed or exiled.

“The regime silenced dissent through arrests, threats, and confiscation of property. It weaponised fear to ensure no one could challenge its narrative,” Tamer Qarqout, a Syrian journalist now living in Germany, said.

This exodus of journalists left Syria’s people voiceless and isolated. Today, many work abroad for international outlets, trying to shed light on a conflict the world seems eager to forget.

With Assad's ouster, many media personnel who had spent years blowing the regime’s horns rushed to flee the country out of fear of people’s reprisals, or were quick to apologise to a public they sought to manipulate.

This division, and the multitude of challenges that lie ahead for Syrians, provoke a deep sense of uncertainty. “The fall of the Assad statue symbolises the end of an era, but it’s bittersweet. We are caught between relief and anxiety about what comes next,” Sabour confesses.

Other Arab Spring countries which have preceded Syria in toppling their regimes have eventually slid back to authoritarianism, with many suffering long years of turmoil as well as regional and international meddling.

Sabour believes Syria’s future hinges on fragile international agreements. “The change in Syria didn’t happen in isolation,” he says. “It’s the result of a tenuous balance between Russia, Turkey, Iran, and Gulf countries, with US backing. But how long will this balance hold? And when will the first cracks appear?”

For others, like Qarqout, the danger lies within. “The Assad regime planted divisions among Syrians - sectarianism, regionalism, and class divides. Moving forward requires undoing these toxic legacies and focusing on unity.”

But according to some, the uprising has fostered a renewed sense of solidarity among communities once divided by fear.

“Even those who once supported Assad out of fear or loyalty now see him for what he was - a tyrant who sacrificed the nation for his own power,” says Ali Ibrahim, an environmental activist from Tartus,  a coastal city that was a stronghold of Assad.

However, Ibrahim warns of lingering dangers. “Stability depends on ensuring basic law and order. The regime’s collapse has flooded the streets with weapons, even in children’s hands. We need to prioritise disarmament and rebuild institutions,” he said.

“Justice, unity, and building a state based on citizenship, not loyalty, are key. The revolution wasn’t just about removing Assad; it was about creating a better Syria for all,” Qarqout said.

No one knows exactly what Syria’s future holds. But as one Damascus resident said amidst the celebrations: “For the first time in years, we can hope. And hope is where change begins.”

Mawada Bahah is a freelance Syrian journalist based in Damascus who focuses on environmental and society issues. 

This article was originally published on New Arab.
Views in this article are author’s own and do not necessarily reflect CGS policy.