THE REVOLUTION 

Just over 75 years ago, the international community vowed never again to allow the atrocities of WWII to repeat themselves. Never again to stand by as war destroyed livelihoods and separated families. Never again to sit on the sidelines as genocides and massacres wiped out thousands of innocent civilians.  

Yet, 11 years on from spring 2011 in which the people of Syria began calling for greater freedom and instead were met with barbaric violence by Assad’s government, it is clear that such promises were made in vain. 

Indeed, to think of Syria for the past 11 years is to think of 11 years of death, torture, and suffering. It is to think of a violent, multi-sided armed conflict, each battling for triumph in the war. Undoubtedly, this perception is not unfounded. There is limitless truth in the notion of civilian pain and suffering, boundless truth in the concept of destruction. It is a truth that we must not forget. 

However, this perception is not complete. 

The 11-year story of Syria is not merely one of conflict and violence. It is a story of revolution. One whose roots began in a peaceful call for dignity and freedom. One in which civilians took to the streets to demand an end to decades of tyranny and justice for tortured children such as 13-year-old Hamza Al-Khateeb. It is a story of the courage to break free from the fear of repression that had been internalised into Syrian DNA.  

11 years into the Syrian story, however, the image of the brave Syrian has faded away amongst the backdrop of blood, violence, and armed groups that have become more commonly associated with the country. To think of Syria now is not to think about the grassroots origins, but it is to forget about those who danced through the streets of the country, chanting rhymes and songs as a mode of protest. 

Yet, such origins should not be forgotten. 

They are inextricably linked to the tragedy around which the country revolves today. In the haze of the destruction, which we once said we would never again let unfold, it is imperative that we remember the entire story of Syria. The story that many Syrians believed was a “revolution for dignity”. 

AN EXAMPLE OUT OF ANYONE: HAMZA AL-KHATEEB

While many people point to the effects of numerous years of drought as an explanation for the beginning of the Syrian uprising, and whilst this is a factor that undoubtedly contributed to Syrian grievances, attributing the start of the revolution wholly to economic woes would be a great misrepresentation. The people of Syria were primarily driven by the decades of inhumanity and hereditary tyranny that had been forced upon them since Hafez Al-Assad’s coup d’état in 1966. 

Hamza Al-Khateeb, a 13-year-old schoolboy from Daraa, is the perfect example of this. After writing freedom slogans on the walls of his school with his friends, Hamza was arrested and killed by Assad’s mukhabarat (security services). His body was returned to his parents riddled with bullet wounds, cuts, and scars consistent with the use of electric shock devices and whips. His neck was broken. He was mutilated. The story of Hamza Al-Khateeb was not an isolated incident. What happened to him embodies the grievances that the Syrians could no longer deal with: a government so crazed by remaining in power that it was willing to make an example out of just about anyone. 

When trying to subdue the protesters, Buthaina Shaaban, Bashar Al-Assad’s political advisor, offered a series of mild political and economic reforms. People responded with chants of “Ya Bouthaina Ya Shaa’ban – al Sha’ab al Suri mu Ju’an” (O Buthaina Shaa’ban, the Syrian people are not hungry). They also chanted “Yalla erhal ya Bashar” (Get out Bashar) and “Skaba Ya Dumu’ Al Ayn, Skaba Ala Shuhada Suriya w Shababa” (Flow oh tears of the eye, flow for the martyrs and the youth of Syria). 

FIGHTING BULLETS WITH ROSES 

Moreover, in remembering the story of Syria, let us remember that it is one in which Syrians remained committed to peace and nonviolence even in the face of profound injustice. However, in the face of dissent, Assad had other plans, it did not matter whether the people were merely chanting or praying, the Syrian government responded by opening fire on peaceful protesters. 

As Assad raised his guns, Syrians raised their roses. Syrian protesters, consumed by the youthful hope of freedom and peace, pioneered the tactic of handing out roses and water to Syrian troops who were sent out to massacre them. Remembering this makes it clear that the story of Syria is not one that began with violence on all sides. It is one in which the shockwaves of government brutality rippled the country until the peace unravelled into the chaos of today. Syrian demonstrators chose to fight bullets with roses, but, in the face of bullets, the flowers disintegrated. 

THE HEAVY PRICE OF CHANGE 

Since 2011, the Syrian regime, amongst other armed parties in the conflict, has violated practically every principle of international humanitarian law (IHL). Reports of the UN-mandated Commission of Inquiry have consistently attributed the majority of war crimes and crimes against humanity to the Syrian government. Assad’s regime made it clear that the price of freedom was very high—so high that the United Nations stopped counting the death toll, which has been estimated at more than 600,000 lives, in 2014.

Years of chemical weapons attacks, sieges, massacres, arbitrary detentions, and a myriad of crimes against humanity made clinging onto optimism almost impossible. With each loss of a child, husband, son, brother, and friend, hope in the face of injustice wavered. 

With each disappearance of a loved one through illegal detention, not knowing if they were alive or dead, but knowing that they were being tortured in Syria’s notorious detention centres, the Syrian belief in the international community’s promise to never again stand by withered away. In the spirit of Caesar’s report, “If the Dead Could Speak: Mass Deaths and Torture in Syria’s Detention Facilities,” if the dead could speak, they would tell us just how much we failed them.  

NEVER AGAIN, BUT THIS TIME WE MEAN IT  

So, as we remember the last 11 years of Syria, let us remember its beginnings in revolution. Syria’s story has not always been one of weapons, violence, or heartbreak, nor has it always been a story of armed frontlines. The story of Syria is one that is rooted in the hope of ordinary Syrians for justice, freedom, and dignity. It is a story of civilians who tried to fight bullets with roses, but instead were erased by a government that valued power over human lives. It is a story of forceful silencing of those who dared to give voice to the revolution. 

11 years on, it is clear that our promise of “never again” was more rhetoric rather than a vow we intended to honour. With this in mind, let us renew our promises to the Syrian lives lost in the violence. Let us make a new promise to those who raised the roses, and to those who once hoped. While nothing will ever make up for the last 11 years, let us now vow to remember them when we think of the story of Syria. Let us promise to “never again” let their memories fade away, rendering that which they did without recognition. This time, we promise, never again.

Sarah is a Philosophy, Politics and Economics graduate from the University College London. She is currently studying Law and has a keen interest in human rights, with a particular interest in Middle Eastern Affairs due to her Syrian origins.

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