Radicalism and Terrorism: Obstacles Hindering Historic and Geographic European-Muslim Ties

Anti-immigrant protests in the Czech Republic in 2015. (AFP)
Anti-immigrant protests in the Czech Republic in 2015. (AFP)
TT
20

Radicalism and Terrorism: Obstacles Hindering Historic and Geographic European-Muslim Ties

Anti-immigrant protests in the Czech Republic in 2015. (AFP)
Anti-immigrant protests in the Czech Republic in 2015. (AFP)

One of the most important questions posed on the intellectual scene is one related to the ties between Europe and Islam as a religion and Muslims as followers of that religion. This is a relationship that dates back to centuries. Yes, they may not all have been calm and peaceful, but they, in one way or another, witnessed a form of cooperation and coexistence.

At this we ask, will recent terrorist attacks, which are a sign of growing radicalism, act as an obstacle to coexistence or will the Europe of enlightenment and tolerance be able to overcome this hurdle in recognition of the relationship that dates back to over a thousand years?

Associate professor of media studies and Middle Eastern studies at Rutgers University, Deepa Kumar argued in her book, “Islamophobia and the Politics of Empire,” that for over a century and a half, the West has looked towards the East in general, the Ottomans in specific, as being inferior to it. The West believed that eastern cultures were only capable of producing oppressive societies. The most accurate perception of Islam in the West occurred during the age of Enlightenment. During the Romantic age, Islam was viewed as something exotic.

Kumar refuted the claim that the West and East were in a constant state of conflict. In fact, she noted that the history of the West and the history of the East were closely connected.

The critical and fundamental question that should be asked is: “Did the West always have a negative and distorted image of Islam and Muslims?”

Not at all at first. The distortion started to emerge during colonial times and with efforts to “demonize Islam and Muslims.”

In examining the terrorist attacks that have taken place over the past two decades, we are concerned in whether Islamophobia was an obstacle that hindered communication between West and East, which could have prevented these crimes.

Perhaps French political journalist Edwy Plenel can offer the best answer to this question in his book “For the Muslims.” He said that Islam is being manipulated to produce an internal enemy to create a state of panic among the most important figures of the European public, especially in France. He noted that France has started to adopt violent stances against immigration, which in many media, has become synonymous with Islam, extremism, terrorism, cultural invasion and other terms from the xenophobic dictionary.

Plenel pointed out to a pre-ISIS 2013 human rights report that clearly showed violent anti-Muslim sentiment and anti-Muslim blocs. If we compare the current sentiment in Europe to the one preceding World War II, we can say that Muslims today have become the scapegoat, similar to how Jews used to be, revealed the report.

This sentiment led to debates over barring religious symbols, such as the veil, from universities and institutions of higher education in Europe. Islamophobia has been used as an excuse to protect “secularism” and politicize issues of immigration and terrorism.

Logically, the Europeans should have kept these two issues apart because they have nothing to do with each other as some sides are trying to say through distorting facts and questioning whether Islam allows cultural diversity. How is this possible while some figures still cast doubts against Muslims and their ties with Europe?

The “father” of Orientalism, Bernard Lewis, has for a long time, been a planter of doubt. Despite being naturalized as an American citizen, he never forgot his European roots, therefore presenting the image of a racist Europe that is intolerant of Islam and Muslims. This image, which was evident in his 2010 book, “Faith and Power: Religion and Politics in the Middle East”, was present even before the emergence of ISIS and it preceded the recent terrorist attacks.

Lewis spoke of the intolerant European minority, which has grown in numbers in recent years. This minority believes that the developments in Europe today are part of a second wave of attacks by Muslims, which is summed up by terrorism and immigration.

The author said that terrorism is being used in service of the religion. He stated that Islam recommends it as a fact of life and that Muslims believe that the world is divided into one of peace, which is ruled by Islamic Sharia law, and another that is ruled by war. Lewis also spoke of Europe losing its demographic identity due to the flow of immigrants. He went so far as to warn of the “Islamization” of the Christian continent as a result of the influx of Muslims.

An in-depth analysis of Lewis’ views leads us to an unexpected place, a fertile ground where radical Muslims and their European allies meet.

He explained that radical Muslims have an appeal to leftist anti-Americans in Europe, who see them as a substitute to the Soviets. They appeal to the anti-semitic right as a substitute to Nazis. These views have managed to garner support, often by the same people. Some figures in Europe clearly believe that grudges trump loyalties.

In Germany, the majority of Muslims are of Turkish origin. They tend to compare themselves to Jews, saying that they have succeeded them as the victims of German racism and oppression. Lewis referred to a meeting that was held in Berlin to address the situation of the new Muslim minorities in Europe. He remarked that one of the attendees wondered: “For 2,000 years the Germans were unable to accept 400,000 Jews, so what hope is there for them to accept two million Turks?”

Of course, Lewis has to add fuel to the fire, noting that Muslim Turks are playing on German guilt to advance their own agenda.

Within the lines of searching for the future of Europe and its Muslims, we find that there are some figures who are promoting the idea of “Islamicizing” the continent.

Radical French Jewish journalist Eric Zemmour, author of “Le Suicide Francais”, called for expelling Muslims from France. He said that it was shameful to compare the position of Jews in the 19th and early 20th centuries and the position of Muslims in France today. He claimed in an article in France’s Le Figaro newspaper in October 2014, that the Jews back then were rich and contributed to the economy. Muslims today spark fear due to their large numbers and Islamic terrorism and extremism. In addition, he remarked that the majority of violence against Jews in France is usually committed by Muslims.

In the same vein, French journalist Benoit Rayski, who is specialized in attacking Islam, wrote an article called: “It is our duty to be Islamophobic.” He constantly seeks to justify Islamophobia by promoting stories of the crimes committed against Christians in Nigeria, Iraq and Sudan, as well as highlighting ISIS’ execution of western hostages.

The question that should be asked at this point is whether Europe can reconcile with Muslims. The answer is not clear yet, especially in wake of recent terrorist attacks.

We are perhaps on the doorstep of a new phase of relations between Europe and Islam and Muslims. In sum, we can say that the direct relationship between Europe and Muslims took place over three different phases or eras. During each phase, the Muslim that Europe met was different. In the first phase, the Arabs played a prominent role. The Ottoman Turks were prominent in the next phase and the Mongols in the third.

Some observers believe that we have reached the fourth phase of European-Muslim ties.

The best way to conclude the above statements is to refer once again to Plenel, whose views on Islam have not been distorted by terrorist attacks in France. He believes that attributing the entire beliefs and culture of a certain peoples to the actions of the few paves the way for dark days.

The torchbearers of enlightenment in Europe now have the task of correcting the misconception in the continent, where Islam as a religion that rejects modernity is being presented as the norm. This is only adding fuel to the clash between Muslims and the radical right in Europe, paving the way for more deadly fundamentalism.



Makeshift Captagon Labs Emerge in Syria from Rubble of Assad’s Narcotics Trade

Syria's new authorities burn hundreds of tons of Captagon pills and bags of hashish at the headquarters of the Fourth Division in Damascus. (EPA)
Syria's new authorities burn hundreds of tons of Captagon pills and bags of hashish at the headquarters of the Fourth Division in Damascus. (EPA)
TT
20

Makeshift Captagon Labs Emerge in Syria from Rubble of Assad’s Narcotics Trade

Syria's new authorities burn hundreds of tons of Captagon pills and bags of hashish at the headquarters of the Fourth Division in Damascus. (EPA)
Syria's new authorities burn hundreds of tons of Captagon pills and bags of hashish at the headquarters of the Fourth Division in Damascus. (EPA)

Ahmed el-Jouri

 

Syria has not only endured a war that shattered its cities, but also a quieter conflict—one that devours lives long before bodies fall. Amid the charred ruins of burned-out neighborhoods, an entire generation has grown up under the grip of a cheap pill originally intended for export but now flooding the local market.

The story began when the former Syrian regime transformed Captagon—a synthetic stimulant made from amphetamine and theophylline—into a lucrative war currency.

Once a controlled substance, it soon became a torrent surging through the country's alleys and streets, robbing youths of their futures and turning dreams into nightmares.

By 2020, the crisis had deepened. The price of a single Captagon pill plummeted from $1.50 to just five cents—cheaper than a cup of tea.

The drop reflected a cascade of events: the enforcement of the Caesar Act sanctions, sweeping sanctions targeting the Assad government, Lebanon's economic and banking collapse in late 2019, restrictions on dollar transactions and withdrawals from Lebanon, and tighter control over land borders that slightly curbed smuggling.

This Asharq Al-Awsat investigation, drawing on field visits to areas of post-Assad Syria and interviews with pharmacists and doctors in Amman and Erbil, retraces the production pipeline of Captagon.

It also features testimonies from addicts and their families, painting a stark portrait of a drug that fuels despair in a nation already exhausted by war.

A member of the Syrian security forces at a Captagon factory in Douma near Damascus on December 13. (AP)

In the shadows: Captagon addiction grips Syria's youth

In the crumbling streets of Damascus, where tangled electric wires dangle like specters above weary passersby, a toxic trade thrives under innocent names—“energy pills”, “happiness tablets” and others depending on the dealer. But behind the playful labels lies a systematic crisis. Syria's youth are not falling to addiction by chance—they are being consumed by design.

According to the International Labor Organization, 39.2% of working-age Syrians (15 and older) were unemployed in 2023. But statistics say little about how people like Ahmed, 19, spend their days.

Slumped on a crumbling curb in Damascus' Rukn al-Din district, Ahmed stares at his tattered shoes as a nearby dealer leans in: “This pill will make you a man... you'll work like a horse without feeling tired.”

Ahmed didn't know that the “man” he was promised would become enslaved to a handful of blue pills. The long hours at a bombed-out workshop turned into a nightmare only numbed by more doses.

His story is far from unique. It echoes across Syria like a shared curse in a land battered by war and poverty. In this darkness, Captagon glimmers like a false shooting star. Sources recount how the pill knocks down young people one after another, like dominoes—girls included.

Even the dream of escape has become part of the tragedy. Some sell family land to fund a risky boat journey out of the country. One man made it only as far as a Turkish prison—addicted, penniless, landless, and with no future.

This investigation collected over a dozen testimonies from across Syria—either directly from addicts or their families—offering a window into a drug crisis that has taken a darker turn since the fall of Assad's regime.

What was once a tightly controlled trade, reliant on pharmaceutical infrastructure and exports while feeding a growing domestic market, has devolved into a chaotic, deadly business claiming more lives through overdoses and despair.

Yasser, 17, from Aleppo, was kicked out of his family home and now lives in a basement room owned by his uncle-in-law.

“My friends used to laugh when they took the pills,” Yasser told Asharq Al-Awsat.

“They told me it felt like being the hero in a video game. I tried them to prove I was brave like them. Now, I wander the streets like a ghost. I hear my mother's voice haunting me. On cold nights, I sneak back to our house, touch the locked door and imagine a shell falling on me... maybe death would offer me a forgiveness I don't deserve,” he added.

In the northeastern city of Hasaka, Ali, 22, from Deir Ezzor, spoke after a grueling day of physical labor. “One day, I carried sacks of flour on my back for 10 straight hours,” he recalled.

“My boss was watching, then tossed me a pill and said, 'Take this—it'll make your back like iron.' Now, my back carries more than weight... the heaviest burden is what I see in my children's eyes. When I get home, I pretend to sleep so they won't come near me. I hear them whisper, 'Papa sleeps like he's dead.'”

Mohammad Abu Youssef, 45, rubs his cracked hands and gazes at a photo of his eldest son.

“I sold my health, worked myself to the bone just to pay his school fees. But Captagon stole him from me,” he said.

“When I found him trembling like a leaf in the corner, I screamed, 'Why didn't you die in the bombing?!' I tried sending him to Europe with smugglers, but he fled the truck halfway and returned months later—his eyes are just two black voids. Now, I've locked him in the house. I buy the pills for him myself and pray every night that God takes him.”

Captagon pills concealed in fake fruit found inside a factory in Douma east of Damascus. (EPA)

No rehab, no way out: Syria's addicts face slow death

In a country ravaged by war and addiction, the absence of rehabilitation centers is proving fatal for many. Without treatment options, a growing number of Syrians are left to spiral deeper into dependency—with no support, no shelter, and no escape.

Dr. Rawan al-Hussein, who requested using an alias for safety reasons, works with a branch of the health directorate and also consults for a non-governmental organization focused on addiction cases. Each day, she sifts through piles of case files, trying to salvage what's left of shattered lives.

“Just last week, a frail young man came to me carrying his infant daughter,” she recalled.

“He said, 'Take her before I sell her for pills. I don't even have a bed to put her in.'”

With rehab facilities scarce or nonexistent in many areas, stories like his are becoming tragically common—leaving medical workers overwhelmed and addicts trapped in a slow-motion collapse.

Al-Hussein exhaled deeply as she gathers water-damaged papers from her desk.

“International organizations send us boxes of medicine without assessing our needs,” she said. “Our youth are dying because the toxins are already in their blood. What are we supposed to do with bandages for wounds no one can see?”

The real tragedy, she explained, lies not just in the spread of addiction, but in the absence of mental health and rehabilitation services.

Staff working in Syria with the UNHCR and the World Health Organization told Asharq Al-Awsat that as of February 2025, there were no more than 10 specialized rehabilitation centers across the country, while the need is estimated at over 150.

With more than 70% of health facilities damaged or destroyed by war, accessing emergency care or psychiatric treatment has become nearly impossible.

“Even the programs that do exist are struggling,” al-Hussein added. “They rely heavily on volunteers and lack basic psychiatric medications.”

But the crisis runs deeper than infrastructure. Stigma, too, is a powerful barrier. “In Daraa, for example, residents rejected plans to open a rehab center out of fear it would tarnish the area's reputation,” a local organization told Asharq Al-Awsat.

Caught between a crumbling healthcare system and a society that shuns them, Syria's addicts are left to fight a silent war with little hope of rescue.

Captagon after Assad: Makeshift labs and a generation being wiped out by doses

The fall of the Assad regime did not mark the end of Syria's suffering—instead, it ignited a new phase of chaos, more fragmented and deadly.

As state institutions collapsed during years of war, young people became easy prey to a cheap addiction. Now, the regime's toxic legacy is playing out in the shadows through a deadlier, more decentralized Captagon industry.

While the new authorities dismantled public-facing drug labs in the wake of Assad's downfall, they failed to anticipate what would come next: the splintering of production into informal workshops run by former smugglers and recovering addicts navigating a shattered economy.

The once-affordable pill that had flooded the streets is now scarcer—and more expensive—driving many addicts to work inside the very workshops that sustain their addiction.

These makeshift labs operate with no safety standards, mixing dangerous chemicals by hand, without protective gear, and relying on improvised recipes that often push the drug's potency to lethal extremes.

In this post-Assad vacuum, Syria's Captagon trade has not disappeared—it has mutated, dragging a generation deeper into a cycle of desperation, exploitation, and overdose.

In the immediate aftermath of Assad's fall, Syria's new leadership launched a sweeping military and security campaign aimed at dismantling the country's Captagon empire—a key source of funding for the ousted regime.

The crackdown succeeded in destroying dozens of large-scale production facilities in the rural outskirts of Homs and Damascus. But what seemed like a victory soon spiraled into a deeper crisis.

With the collapse of organized production, the price of a single Captagon pill soared—from just five cents to more than $1.50, according to pharmacists and users interviewed by Asharq Al-Awsat.

Primitive material used to manufacture Captagon in the village of Hawik. (Asharq Al-Awsat)

The price surge has pushed many addicts into a state of desperation, willing to pay or do anything for a fix. It's a Russian doll of catastrophe: inside every crisis, a smaller one waits. The fall of Assad did not dismantle the machinery of death—it merely scattered it into thousands of dangerous fragments.

The addicts once hooked on the “cheap high” of mass-produced Captagon are now trapped in a darker spiral: counterfeit pills from unregulated workshops, mixed with unknown chemicals, sold on the black market.

To stave off withdrawal, users are turning to theft or joining smuggling rings. Families who once believed that regime change would bring their sons and daughters back from the brink have instead watched as they became statistics—new entries in the growing toll of addiction and overdose.

What began as a crackdown has, for many Syrians, morphed into a new chapter of the same tragedy—only now, it's less visible and harder to stop.

Captagon under Assad: A state-engineered drug empire disguised as pharma

Under the Assad regime, Captagon production was far from a rogue operation. It was a state-run enterprise cloaked in the legitimacy of Syria's once-thriving pharmaceutical sector.

Before the war, Syria boasted one of the most advanced pharmaceutical industries in the Middle East. The regime exploited that infrastructure to manufacture synthetic drugs on a large scale.

Licensed factories in Aleppo and Damascus—equipped with modern technology—became the backbone of a sophisticated narcotics operation. Inside, chemists and pharmacists engineered carefully calibrated formulas designed to hook users without causing immediate deaths.

Three former pharmacists who worked in separate Syrian pharmaceutical firms told Asharq Al-Awsat that official state laboratories were covertly used to develop these drug blends.

At times, authorities would shut down or confiscate equipment from legitimate factories under false pretenses—creating space for Captagon experts to refine new chemical compositions.

A chemical engineer who worked in a factory in Al-Kiswah, south of Damascus, said the effort was supported by foreign expertise.

“Iranian and Indian specialists were brought in to help perfect the formula,” the source revealed.

“There were strict protocols in place. The regime wanted addictive pills without scandals. That's why Syrian Captagon became the most sought-after on the market.”

Lighter versions of the drug were even rebranded and sold as “party pills”, offering users a temporary high and masking the addiction beneath.

Assad's narcotics machine wasn't just a revenue stream. It was a calculated instrument of control, designed to addict both domestic users and foreign buyers while preserving plausible deniability.