New Demographics Alter Syria's Identity

Archive photo of Iran's Quds Force commander Esmail Qaani in Sit Zaynab near Damascus. (Iranian TV)
Archive photo of Iran's Quds Force commander Esmail Qaani in Sit Zaynab near Damascus. (Iranian TV)
TT

New Demographics Alter Syria's Identity

Archive photo of Iran's Quds Force commander Esmail Qaani in Sit Zaynab near Damascus. (Iranian TV)
Archive photo of Iran's Quds Force commander Esmail Qaani in Sit Zaynab near Damascus. (Iranian TV)

The long years of war in Syria did not only leave behind millions of victims and vast destruction, but also created new demographic realities that changed the identity of areas nationwide.

In the Syrian capital’s southern countryside lies a town, Sit Zaynab, which is home to the Shrine of Sayyida Zaynab and is the destination of thousands of Iranian, Iraqi, Lebanese, Afghan, and Pakistani visitors.

Many recount how the town feels like it no longer feels Syrian. The only character reminiscent of the town’s Syrian identity is the handful of Golan refugees who relocated to Sit Zaynab after the June 1967 war and the other internally displaced people who moved there during the years of war.

Another new development that altered the town’s identity was the influx of foreign fighters, who “liberated” the city from the armed opposition factions that controlled it for two years (from the start of the Syrian uprising in March 2011 until the beginning of 2013).

The foreign fighters who flocked to Sit Zaynab from Iran, Iraq, Lebanon, Afghanistan and Pakistan, and worked under Iran's command, were driven by defending the shrine, while the fighters of the armed opposition factions believed that the liberation of the town was a prelude to the liberation of southern Damascus.

Even though the conflict over the town has become a thing of the past, locals in Sit Zaynab have grown accustomed to segregation brought about by zones of influence. Neighborhoods have been isolated by military checkpoints and cement blocks.

While the presence of armed groups has apparently declined in the town’s streets, locals told Asharq Al-Awsat that a new dispute has arisen between influential strongmen and Syrian security authorities.

Although years have passed since the regime’s army and Iranian militias regained control of Sit Zaynab, foreign fighters are preventing shop owners, who have left the town, from returning.

Local sources said the leaders of foreign fighters had bought off several shops in the town and are in the process of taking over more.

Sit Zaynab is considered one of the top four Shiite destinations in the world, after Iraq’s Najaf and Karbala and Iran’s Mashhad.

Annual rent in Sit Zaynab ranges between SYP 10 million and SYP 20 million. The town is home to around 500 shops, more than half of which are shut.

Besides looking to own shops, foreign fighters are also transforming the town’s large residential complexes into hotels for hosting visitors, pilgrims, and even more foreign fighters.

Sub-boulevards now include one or two hotels to accommodate “visitors” and foreign fighters.

Nowadays, Sit Zaynab has around 40-50 hotels that were established by leaders of foreign fighters who paid large sums of money to seize the premises. They also bought smaller properties within the town to accommodate themselves.

These moves by warlords indicate that they are eyeing control over the town’s post-war economy.

Socially, a heterogeneous mixture exists in the town. It is made up from the remnants of Sit Zaynab’s original residents, the Golanis displaced in 1967, the Idlibis displaced from the villages of Al-Fua and Kefraya, the Palestinian refugees, and the Iranian, Iraqi, Lebanese, Pakistani and Afghan fighters.

Economists told Asharq Al-Awsat that deteriorating economic conditions could exacerbate friction between these demographics. But an economic and commercial boom can ease these tensions.

In addition to the groups of foreign fighters, Syrian security services are active inside the town, but their role is no more powerful to the role of the groups controlling Sit Zaynab.

Local sources told Asharq Al-Awsat that “the security services support the survival of original locals and those arriving from inside Syria.”

In Old Damascus, it has been almost a year since the checkpoints run by Iran and its affiliated militias have disappeared from the neighborhoods of Touma, al-Joura, al-Amin, al-Amarah and Zayn al-Abedeen. This was followed by a slight return of groups of pilgrims from Lebanon, Iraq and Iran after they resumed shrine tourism programs that were suspended due to the coronavirus pandemic.

Not only did Iran’s affiliates remove their checkpoints from Old Damascus, but also Iranian goods were withdrawn from the capital’s markets. Between 2011 and 2016, Iranian goods had swept Damascene markets.

Iranian exports to Syria increased between 2011 and 2017, from $361 million to $869 million.

Syria turned into a veritable market for Iranian products, and the value of Iranian goods exported to Syria from 2012 to August 2017 amounted to about $313 million, while Syrian exports did not exceed $91 million.

However, these goods were not accepted and popular, and notably, most of the population turned to smuggled goods from neighboring countries.

In an interview with Asharq Al-Awsat, however, well-informed experts dismissed the importance of the apparent retreat of foreign fighters in Old Damascus.

They point to talks about Iran buying, through networks of institutions, dealers, and Iranian banks, real estate, homes, shops, and hotels in Old Damascus.

Observers believe that Iran will likely restore its influence in the areas from which it has retreated. With Russia preoccupied with its war in Ukraine, Tehran is carrying out the process of filling the vacuum left by Moscow in Syria.



The Border Zone with Lebanon: A Refuge for Syrians Fearing ‘Change’

The Jdeidet Yabous Syrian border crossing, where images of Assad and his father appear to have been defaced (Asharq Al-Awsat).
The Jdeidet Yabous Syrian border crossing, where images of Assad and his father appear to have been defaced (Asharq Al-Awsat).
TT

The Border Zone with Lebanon: A Refuge for Syrians Fearing ‘Change’

The Jdeidet Yabous Syrian border crossing, where images of Assad and his father appear to have been defaced (Asharq Al-Awsat).
The Jdeidet Yabous Syrian border crossing, where images of Assad and his father appear to have been defaced (Asharq Al-Awsat).

The road from Beirut to Damascus is now lined with unfamiliar scenes. In just a few days, everything has changed for those traveling to the Syrian capital by land from Lebanon. Once an economic lifeline for Damascus, the route bustled with visitors—Syrians and Lebanese alike—and large trucks carried goods from Beirut’s port to Syria, a necessity brought on by international sanctions that have forced the country to rely on this corridor.

The journey to Damascus via Lebanon begins at the Masnaa border crossing, which, during the early days of Syria’s upheaval, saw unprecedented traffic heading into Syria. While outbound traffic has returned to normal—or even declined—inbound activity has surged again. Hundreds of Syrian families line up at the border, hoping for “humanitarian exceptions” to enter Lebanon. However, the influx has clogged the route for everyone, even those eligible for entry. For days, the road was virtually impassable until Lebanese authorities intervened to reopen it. Still, complaints from Syrians about alleged abuses at the border prompted General Security chief Major General Elias al-Baysari to launch an investigation into these violations, followed by measures to reduce the number of entries to just a few hundred.

Some Syrians leave after being denied entry, only for others to arrive, clinging to the hope that Lebanon might eventually open its doors. Entry is now restricted to those with valid residency, travelers transiting through Beirut’s airport, or individuals with official documentation.

Families wait in cars, with children and women inside while men gather around fires outside. Ayman, a man in his fifties from rural Damascus, anxiously waits for permission to cross after being denied entry by the checkpoint. He mentions receiving a promise that his case will be reviewed. “We are in danger. I won’t take my children back to die,” he says, refusing to elaborate on the exact threat. Determined, he vows to remain in the deserted zone indefinitely if necessary.

Despite no reports of targeted violence against former regime supporters or religious minorities—especially Shiites—fear remains pervasive. Bilal, a Syrian from the predominantly Shiite town of Zahraa near Aleppo, recounts how a relative was killed and claims that his name is on a wanted list. “I’ll never go back,” he says firmly.

The scene repeats itself just past the first opposition-held checkpoint, opposite the abandoned Syrian passport office. Crossing is straightforward and no longer requires ID for Lebanese citizens, unlike in the past. A friendly greeting and a wave from the armed guards suffice, often accompanied by a smile and “Welcome!” This is a stark contrast to the past, when multiple military checkpoints, infamous for soliciting bribes in the form of bread, cigarettes, or cash, made travel cumbersome.

Now, entering and exiting Syria via land is remarkably easy—no paperwork, no questions, and no inspections.

Near a victory arch along the road, adorned with images of deposed Syrian President Bashar al-Assad and his late father Hafez, stands a young man. His old car is parked nearby, with his wife and three children—all under ten years old—waiting inside. Hesitantly, he approaches a Lebanese traveler, asking whether he can enter Lebanon without the “yellow card” once issued by Syrian authorities for outgoing vehicles. Syrian border guards had turned him away, warning that Lebanese authorities might confiscate his car.

The man, from the Shiite-majority village of Foua near Idlib, is determined to reach Lebanon. “I’ve arranged for work with someone there, and I need to leave as soon as possible,” he explains nervously. Though he insists no one has harmed him, his unease is evident as he prepares to leave.

The Assads’ towering portraits remain intact, likely due to their height, while those at ground level have been torn down or trampled. Military checkpoints have been vandalized or destroyed.

Abandoned vehicles litter the roadside, some still smoldering, while others have been stripped of all valuables—tires, parts, and accessories. Military vehicles, tanks, and armored carriers, some still loaded with ammunition, lie deserted along the route from the border to Damascus. These remnants tell the story of a collapsed regime and an uncertain future.

Scattered among the wreckage are vehicles destroyed by Israeli missile strikes targeting Syrian air defense systems, including anti-aircraft launchers mounted on military trucks.

The stretch of abandoned military hardware extends from the Syrian border to the outskirts of Damascus. These vehicles were once meant to defend the capital but now lie powerless, deserted by soldiers who left their uniforms discarded along the roadside as they fled. The old Syrian flag lies tattered and forgotten in multiple locations, untouched—neither reclaimed nor mourned.