The orphaned Syrian suffering 

The common denominator between Syrians on both sides of the border is their suffering

The orphaned Syrian suffering 

The earthquake that struck northwestern Syria and southeastern Turkey claimed thousands of lives, wiping out the dreams of hundreds of thousands, levelling the homes and tents of millions, and burying groans of pain and whispers for help under the silent rubble.

The tragedy in Turkey and Syria is immense, too big and too harsh to put into words. The suffering is one – save for one major difference if one were to look beyond the devastation in both countries.

This difference lies in the headline. In Turkey, the disaster has a headline, a reference point to pin blame and hopes on. In Syria, the suffering remained orphaned.

Since the moment the roofs caved in over their residents’ heads and buildings were reduced to rubble, there has been one headline in Ankara.

Talk of corruption, construction permit problems, and lax accountability, coupled with analyses of how the quake will affect the upcoming elections.

The political fate of the Justice and Development Party, which emerged with President Recep Tayyip Erdogan from the rubble of last century’s earthquake, may be tied to the rubble of this earthquake.

Much has been said and will be said before the next elections in May — if these are held on time.

However, leaders from the political, military, economic, and foreign sectors and civil society organisations did their best (some for the sake of their conflicting political agendas) to deal with the earthquake in all its humanitarian, political, economic, and international dimensions.

Suffering a common denominator

The scene was different in Syria. For context, the earthquake struck northwestern Syria, home to about four million people.

Some of these people had been displaced from rural Idlib and other parts of Syria, heading towards the borders with Turkey, which they deemed to be “safe.”

Reuters
Abu Abed al-Khalek, stands near rubble of his partially collapsed house from the earthquake in the town of Jandaris, Syria February 13, 2023.

Some built houses there, and others lived in tents.

On the other side, there are also refugees who had left Syria altogether.

The common denominator between Syrians on both sides of the border is their suffering. Bad luck followed them everywhere they went, fleeing the dangers of war only to be killed by an earthquake in their sleep.

The common denominator between Syrians on both sides of the border is their suffering. Bad luck followed them everywhere they went, fleeing the dangers of war only to be killed by an earthquake in their sleep.

Entire families have been wiped out. Many bodies with no names, lie under the rubble instead of in cemeteries.

The disaster did not discriminate. Just as it hit 'opposition' areas and the makeshift hometowns of displaced Syrians, it also struck "loyalist" regions in the west and centre, and the aftershocks reached as far as the south. 

The suffering was supposed to unite Syrians. Instead, it split them even further. 

People in "loyalist" regions did not rush to express their sympathy. People in 'opposition' areas focused on healing their wounds. When the northeast tried to rescue the wounded and orphaned in the northwest, the Turkish veto emerged, when Ankara did not greenlight relief efforts coming from "Kurdish areas" to its areas of influence.

Syrian officials took far too long to grasp what happened in their country and go visit those afflicted regions.

The first official to visit Aleppo, Syria's "economic capital" and one of those disaster-struck regions, did not come from Damascus, nor even from some United Nations halls in New York or Geneva.

It was Esmail Ghani, commander of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps' Quds Force. 

The first official to visit disaster-struck Aleppo did not come from Damascus. It was Esmail Ghani, commander of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps' Quds Force. 

Ghani visited the region, had some photo-ops, provided some "relief," and made some statements to the media.

What message was Iran trying to send with this visit? It is no secret that an implicit tension is bubbling beneath the surface between the two allies, Damascus and Tehran.

The latter's efforts to "save the regime" over the past decade came with the price tag of "sovereign concessions" in the economy and politics. 

Damascus, for its part, is still committed to its alliance with Tehran but is also exploring its options, as the Israeli raids on Damascus airport to "hit Iranian shipments" increasingly corner the regime.

The earthquake provided a golden opportunity for Iran, which believes that "in every adversity there is opportunity." The message was clear: "Aleppo is an Iranian province." 

The earthquake provided a golden opportunity for Iran, which believes that "in every adversity there is opportunity." The message was clear: "Aleppo is an Iranian province."

A visit like this in a war for survival several years ago is one thing, and this visit is another.

The problem is that it came at a moment when Arab countries wanted to rush normalisation with Damascus in the wake of the disaster and use the humanitarian crisis for political gains. 

In fact, many Arab leaders contacted Syrian President Bashar al-Assad to offer their sympathies and explore the opportunity to turn the page.

Then came the Iranian visit to serve as a reality check, leaving those states to put their normalisation plans on hold or exert pressure on "normalisers."

Multiple addresses and bumpy roads

Apart from the Iranian visit, international aid efforts reaffirmed that Syrians have nothing to pin their suffering on. In Turkey, there is a clear address that defines clear routes for aid.

But in Syria, the addresses are many and the roads are bumpy. 

International aid efforts reaffirmed that Syrians have nothing to pin their suffering on. In Turkey, there is a clear address that defines clear routes for aid. But in Syria, the addresses are many and the roads are bumpy.

Damascus and Moscow want all aid to come through the Syrian capital and the government. Western countries want aid to come through expanded and increased border crossings with Turkey.

Trade-offs were made: expanding aid to opposition areas from the Turkish crossings in exchange for expanding aid to Damascus and from Damascus to areas "outside the state's control."

Western countries and some Arab countries do not want to recognise the Damascus government, nor to deal with Idlib and its factions and expose their experts and officials to "security dangers."

As for Damascus, it does not want to treat Idlib as part of Syria. Meanwhile, Ankara prevents the "Kurdish administration" east of the Euphrates from sympathising with its western neighbours. 

The parties to the conflict in Syria focused on one-upmanship and finger-pointing. In their statements and in UN Security Council corridors, each Syrian party or its foreign ally blamed the other party for the delay in the arrival of aid.

AFP
Relatives react after identifying a body as a family member in Kahramanmaras, southern Turkey on February 13, 2023.

In the face of all this complexity, it is not surprising that the earthquake is being referred to as "Turkish," nor is it shocking that the Turkish flag is being raised around the world and on social media platforms to express sympathy with the bereaved, wounded, and victims in Turkey. 

After all, Syria is orphaned, with far too many flags and banners that all share leadership rivalry and intertwined suffering but lack a uniform headline for national mourning and grief.

Even in the diaspora, there was no united headline to offer condolences.

The fear is for the earthquake to add salt to the Syrian wound and compound the massive suffering and devastation with a dash of "political earthquakes," awaiting the next disaster.
 

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