The 'Forgotten' Camps Where Syria War Displaced Languish

Girls stand next to a tent at the Al-Yunani makeshift camp in Syria's northern province of Raqa
Girls stand next to a tent at the Al-Yunani makeshift camp in Syria's northern province of Raqa
TT

The 'Forgotten' Camps Where Syria War Displaced Languish

Girls stand next to a tent at the Al-Yunani makeshift camp in Syria's northern province of Raqa
Girls stand next to a tent at the Al-Yunani makeshift camp in Syria's northern province of Raqa

Thousands of people displaced by 12 years of war are stuck in squalid, unofficial camps in Syria's Kurdish-held northeast, languishing in extreme poverty and largely cut off from international assistance.

"We've been completely forgotten," said Rahma al-Hammud, 33, standing at her tent -- a shoddy patchwork of worn-out fabric, tarp and old fertiliser bags crudely sewn together.

"Our children get sick over and over again. They get fever, diarrhoea and vomiting," said the widowed mother of four, AFP reported.

She lives in the Al-Yunani camp in the northern province of Raqa, where ISIS group had set up its de facto capital before its defeat in 2017 by US-backed Kurdish-led fighters.

Located near the Euphrates River, it is one of many informal camps inside Syria for people displaced by the conflict.

Women can be seen carrying heavy buckets of water from communal tanks in heat that can exceed 40 degrees Celsius (104 Fahrenheit), while children in filthy clothes and bare feet play in the dirt.

Sheikhmous Ahmed, an official in the semi-autonomous Kurdish administration, said tens of thousands of people live in dozens of informal camps in north and northeast Syria.

Only 16 camps, housing around 150,000 people, are formally recognized and have access to international aid, including Al-Hol and Roj, which host suspected relatives of ISIS militants, he said.

While living and hygiene conditions can be dire even in official displacement camps, the situation in informal settlements is sometimes worse, with no semblance of organization and little or no humanitarian assistance.

Tanya Evans of the International Rescue Committee said such informal camps "can be considered the 'forgotten camps' of Syria".

"Increased attention, funding, and sustained efforts by the international community are crucial" to ensuring such camps "receive the assistance they desperately need", she told AFP in a statement.

Hammud, who is displaced from elsewhere in Raqa province, said aid was "scarce" and that international organizations "do not recognize" the Al-Yunani camp.

"Even if they helped us every two or three months, people would have" better lives, said Hammud, a day labourer in the agriculture sector.

Three of her children also work in an industrial area nearby to help make ends meet.

Syria's war has killed more than half a million people and displaced millions since it broke out in 2011 with the regime's repression of peaceful protests.

It spiralled into a deadly conflict that pulled in foreign powers and global militants.

According to Sheikhmous Ahmed, Kurdish authorities are working "on a plan to transfer residents from informal to formal camps" in a bid to improve their living conditions.

If this were to come true it could improve the life of residents of Sahlat al-Banat, a makeshift camp which sits next to a landfill on the outskirts of Raqa city.

Residents spend their days scavenging the rubbish tip for anything of value, such as scrap metal and bits of plastic, which they hope to sell. It is their main source of income.

"The situation in the camp is tragic," said 30-year-old mother Shakura Mohammed, who was displaced from nearby Deir Ezzor province.

"People search through the rubbish for things they can sell in order to buy bread and earn a living," she said.

"No aid comes to the camp," she added.

According to a report by the United Nations humanitarian agency OCHA, 79 percent of settlements in Raqa province are informal.

A UN cross-border mechanism allowing aid to enter northeast Syria from neighbouring Iraq was halted in early 2020 after pressure from regime ally Russia at the UN Security Council, worsening conditions for those in need.

Umm Rakan, who lives at Sahlat al-Banat, said she had given up on the idea that things would improve.

"We no longer count on anyone's help. We lost hope years ago," said the woman in her 40s, who was also displaced from Deir Ezzor.

"We are destined to live trapped in this hell forever."



Lebanon's Army Chief Joseph Aoun, a Man with a Tough Mission

Lebanon's Armed Forces Commander General Joseph Aoun attends a cabinet meeting in Beirut on November 27, 2024, to discuss the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah. - AFP
Lebanon's Armed Forces Commander General Joseph Aoun attends a cabinet meeting in Beirut on November 27, 2024, to discuss the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah. - AFP
TT

Lebanon's Army Chief Joseph Aoun, a Man with a Tough Mission

Lebanon's Armed Forces Commander General Joseph Aoun attends a cabinet meeting in Beirut on November 27, 2024, to discuss the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah. - AFP
Lebanon's Armed Forces Commander General Joseph Aoun attends a cabinet meeting in Beirut on November 27, 2024, to discuss the ceasefire between Israel and Hezbollah. - AFP

Lebanese army chief Joseph Aoun, who is being touted as a possible candidate for the presidency, is a man with a tough mission following an Israel-Hezbollah ceasefire that relies heavily on his troops deploying in the south.

Aoun, 60, was set to retire last January after heading the army since 2017, but has had his mandate extended twice -- the last time on Thursday.

The army, widely respected and a rare source of unity in a country riven by sectarian and political divides, has held together despite periodic social strife, the latest war and a crushing five-year economic crisis.
A fragile ceasefire took effect on Wednesday, ending more than a year of war between Israel and Hezbollah that has killed thousands in Lebanon and caused mass displacements on both sides of the border.
Under its terms, the Lebanese army and United Nations peacekeepers are to become the only armed presence in south Lebanon, where Hezbollah enjoys strong support and had been launching attacks on Israeli troops for months, and fighting them on the ground since late September.

The move averted a military power vacuum as the army, which boasts about 80,000 Lebanese servicemen, seeks to bolster its deployment in south Lebanon as part of the nascent truce.

But it will be a difficult task in an area long seen as Hezbollah territory, and risks upsetting the country's already delicate social balance as tensions run high over the war's course and devastation.

- 'Integrity' -

Aoun "has a reputation of personal integrity", said Karim Bitar, an international relations expert at Beirut's Saint-Joseph University.

The army chief came into prominence after leading the army in a battle to drive out the ISIS group from a mountanous area along the Syrian border.

"Within the Lebanese army, he is perceived as someone who is dedicated... who has the national interest at heart, and who has been trying to consolidate this institution, which is the last non-sectarian institution still on its feet in the country," he told AFP.

Aoun has good relations with groups across the political spectrum, including with Hezbollah, as well as with various foreign countries.

Mohanad Hage Ali from the Carnegie Middle East Center noted that "being the head of US-backed Lebanese Armed Forces, Joseph Aoun has ties to the United States".

"While he maintained relations with everyone, Hezbollah-affiliated media often criticized him" for his US ties, he told AFP.

An international conference in Paris last month raised $200 million to support the armed forces.

The military has been hit hard by Lebanon's economic crisis, and at one point in 2020 said it had scrapped meat from the meals offered to on-duty soldiers due to rising food prices.

Aoun has also been floated by several politicians, parties and local media as a potential candidate for Lebanon's presidency, vacant for more than two years amid deadlock between allies of Hezbollah and its opponents, who accuse the group of seeking to impose its preferred candidate.

Aoun has not commented on the reports and largely refrains from making media statements.

- President? -

A Western diplomat told AFP that "everyone has recognized Aoun's track record at the head of the army".

"But the question is, can he transform himself into a politician?" said the diplomat, requesting anonymity to discuss politically sensitive matters.

Bitar said that "many, even those who respect him are opposed to his election as president, because he comes from the army mostly", noting a number of Lebanon's heads of state, including recently, were former army chiefs.

Most "left a bittersweet taste", Bitar said, noting any election of Aoun could also perpetuate the idea that the army chief "systematically becomes president".

This could end up weakening the military as it creates "an unhealthy relationship between political power and the army, which is supposed to remain neutral", he added.

Hage Ali said that the idea of Aoun's "candidacy for the presidency did not receive much enthusiasm from the major figures in the political class, even those who are opposed to Hezbollah".

Aoun, who speaks Arabic, French and English, hails from Lebanon's Christian community and has two children.

By convention, the presidency goes to a Maronite Christian, the premiership is reserved for a Sunni Muslim and the post of parliament speaker goes to a Shiite Muslim.

He is not related to the previous Lebanese president Michel Aoun -- also a former army chief -- although the two served together in the military.