This is not Gaza. It is the Yarmouk camp in Syria.
Simply reading the sign repeatedly at the entrance of the Palestinian camp near Damascus is not enough to cement this truth in the visitor’s mind.
One must constantly remind themselves, with every step and glance, that this is not Gaza, but the Yarmouk camp, just 18 kilometers from Umayyad Square. The camp faced systematic destruction and a long siege, leading to the deaths of over 150 residents, mostly children, from hunger and thirst.
The few families who returned after the fall of Bashar al-Assad’s regime or in recent years are barely visible among the vast destruction, which stretches beyond what the eye or camera can capture.
A passerby emerging from the rubble or children returning from their makeshift classes at the nearby UNRWA school might seem like a scene from a film.
But this is the daily reality for the survivors.
“There are no services in the camp,” locals told Asharq Al-Awsat.
“No electricity, running water, internet, or basic healthcare—just ruined buildings, endless destruction, and dust.”
The memory of the starvation siege still lingers in Yarmouk.
A young man who survived the 2018 siege spoke to Asharq Al-Awsat on the condition of anonymity.
“I remember the first piece of bread I ate after days of hunger. The taste never leaves me. After nearly a week without food or water, I remembered seeing a bag of bread in our neighbors' fridge,” he recalled.
“I mustered the strength to go and found the fridge, burned by airstrikes, still attached to the bread. Only the ends of the loaves had survived, though they were moldy... I ate it like a feast.”
The young man then showed old photos of himself, looking pale and thin, almost like a different person. Like him, many men, including heads of households, feared death or arrest if they went to food distribution points. These supplies, trickling in from local factions and the UN, came with great risk. Many "humanitarian corridors" became traps for men and young people.
Since 2011, the camp has endured military targeting, airstrikes, and intense battles. But in 2018, Yarmouk faced one of its darkest moments. After the 2011 uprising, many Palestinians supported it, including activists and Hamas members.
In response, Ahmed Jibril’s Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine–General Command, along with other pro-Assad factions, launched a violent attack on the camp and Free Syrian Army groups.
Barrel bombs fell on Yarmouk and nearby areas like Al-Hajar Al-Aswad, Al-Tadamon, and Yalda. The situation worsened with the presence of a ISIS stronghold in the southern part of the camp, connecting to those areas.
Founded in 1957, Yarmouk camp, covering around 2.5 kilometers, was once a bustling commercial center, home to nearly 1.5 million people, including Syrians, Palestinians, and some Iraqis. Today, fewer than 8,000 people remain, according to UNRWA estimates.
While many compare Yarmouk’s current situation to Gaza, the issue extends beyond the camp. It is one of 15 Palestinian camps in Syria, with over eight suffering severe destruction, all needing rebuilding and support like Yarmouk, as well as other damaged Syrian neighborhoods and areas around Damascus.
Residents face total neglect, uncertain about their future, the fate of missing family members, and the condition of their homes. Their biggest complaint is a sense of being abandoned, with no social, service, or political support.
They feel like orphans of the former regime, armed groups, and the revolution all at once.
Even the Palestinian factions that once controlled the camp now live in Damascus's middle-class and upscale neighborhoods, with some having moved to Beirut.
For years, civilians were trapped between ISIS, other factions, and the regime. Sources confirm that ISIS in Damascus was founded by a former prisoner from Yalda, released by the regime after the 2011 protests.
He was joined by an Iraqi officer living in Yarmouk, both of whom defected from Al-Nusra Front.
For nearly two years, ISIS expanded into nearby areas like Al-Hajar Al-Aswad, Al-Tadamon, and the southern part of Yarmouk, forming a large network of smaller extremist groups that fought and defeated the Free Syrian Army at the time.
During this period, ISIS militants were treated at the government-run Al-Mahini Hospital, later becoming the first armed group to negotiate with the former regime in southern Damascus. They left in organized convoys of buses to the desert of Sweida after surrendering military checkpoints, while Yarmouk residents remained fully besieged.
Asharq Al-Awsat passed the site of the “Ali Al-Wahsh” checkpoint, where a massacre killed 1,200 Yarmouk civilians (according to documented figures).
The worst part of this massacre was not just the number of victims, but the deception used to lure residents with promises of a safe passage for aid after the siege. Once there, men were executed, and women and children were forcibly displaced. Many residents, fearing for their lives, chose to stay hungry rather than risk going for help.
Diaa Suleiman, who lived through that time as a teenager and is now a father of three, said: “After all we went through, we’ve been betrayed. We are completely abandoned. No one looks at us, not even those who caused this. We need protection. We need answers... We need to know where we stand.”
An unofficial meeting, details of which were leaked, took place between Yarmouk faction leaders and representatives of Hayat Tahrir al-Sham. The agreement was that Palestinian fighters would hand over their weapons to the new regime in Syria, following a broader call for all factions to do the same.
While Palestinian weapons in Yarmouk were never used against Israel but instead in internal conflicts to support Assad’s regime, their removal now seems like the least difficult demand.
The value of these weapons has completely disappeared, especially since Yarmouk is now empty and destroyed. Restoring any authority there will require rebuilding both the infrastructure and the people.
“The major challenge ahead is how to define the legal and civil status of Palestinians and protect them through the law,” Ayman Abu Hashem, general coordinator of the Palestinian-Syrian Assembly (Maseer), told Asharq Al-Awsat.
Unlike most Palestinian refugee communities, Syrian law grants Palestinians the right to work, own property, and enjoy all civil rights, except voting. However, it excludes those who arrived after the 1967 war or from Jordan after 1970, and those constitute a significant number.
While most Palestinians in Syria see themselves as also Syrian, Hashem said their main demand is to gain Syrian citizenship while keeping their Palestinian identity.
“We don’t want to be seen as giving up the right of return or our connection to Palestine. But we and our children deserve Syrian citizenship, like anyone born and raised in a country, becoming a dual citizen,” explained Hashem.
