Then and now: My two very different visits to Damascus

After the euphoria of liberation has worn off, Syrians are now confronted with the daunting task of a country ripped apart by a decade-long war. It will be a long road, but people are hopeful.

Then and now: My two very different visits to Damascus

Damascus today resembles the melee of a busy stock exchange during trading hours, which leads the pulse rate on a merry dance, sending it soaring then falling. It has the hubbub of a city under reconstruction. The rebuild is clearly underway, but it will take time. The Syrian capital needs enough time and space to fulfil the dreams of its people.

The Damascus I recently visited is not the same city that I saw at the end of last year, shortly after the collapse of Bashar al-Assad’s regime. Although much remains unchanged, many things are now different, not least the feel.

Syrians’ grand expectations still hover in the air, just as they did at the close of 2024, after years of war, when the city slept in darkness but its people did not. Al-Sham (as Syrians lovingly call Damascus) was celebrating, rejoicing at the fall of al-Assad and the return of loved ones from exile and torture dungeons.

Jubilant anarchy

On the banks of the Barada River, people danced, sang, and played among the jasmine trees. “Raise your head high,” someone would shout between songs, as another returnee arrived. “You are a free Syrian!” Cue the music and the long embrace.

Night turned into day, and everything melted into a jubilant anarchy. Emotions ran wild. Time lost its meaning. There were no schedules, no curfews, no barriers to weeping or wandering, no traffic lights, no police patrols, no rules for driving or staying out. There was no electricity, but that was fine. After all, the dark was meant for dancing.

Syrians sang a love song to a city wearied by war, whose pavements were cracked, whose buildings were crumbling. There was no time for blame, no appetite for accountability. In the scented alleyways, vendors plied their trade in the euphoria. These were moments some had waited half a century to see. This was history, and everything else faded.

Syrians' grand expectations still hover in the air, just as they did at the close of 2024, after years of war, when the city slept in darkness but its people did not

It was a time of ambitions, dreams, and emotions, all overseen by Mount Qasioun. Debate flourished in cafés, as politicians, activists, and revolutionaries returned, long-time opponents of the Assad dynasty coming back to help shape Syria's future. 

Each had a vision. Each carried a map of Syria drawn in blood and etched in wounds, dreams conceived in the prisons of the "Republic of Silence," beneath the torn tarpaulin of refugee camps, or in the salt spray of tiny boats braving the waves.

A new rhythm

That was then. Today, Al-Sham is different. The city has settled into a new rhythm. Order has returned. Services are more accessible. Police patrol the streets. Government ministries are active. The revolutionary songs, impromptu dances in cafés, and anthems in the alleys are no longer, but remain fond memories.

Electricity is more reliable, enabling the return of daily routines, of cars in the streets, of traffic lights and civil order. People queue outside ATMs to get cash and queue outside bakeries to get bread, where iron kiosks serve the poor and hungry. 

The long lines of those seeking security clearances or "settlements" with the authorities—so prevalent last year—have largely disappeared. Today, worries centre on the cost of living, the suspension of pensions, and the furloughing of state employees, while security concerns persist in the countryside around Damascus and Syria's west and south. 

Today, the Syrian reality is meeting the Syrian dream. Sobering truths pull people down from the clouds. The nation is battered, broken, and besieged. In the delirium of al-Assad's ouster, none of that felt real. It does now. Syria cannot rise again in a matter of months, as Syrians had hoped. American sanctions remain in place.  

Today, the Syrian reality is meeting the Syrian dream. Sobering truths pull people down from the clouds.

Damascus is familiar yet transformed. The city's internal clock has been reset, and it is rebuilding, as the contours of Syria's new political reality come into sharper focus. A constitutional declaration has been issued, and the shape of the new system has solidified: a presidential structure, a five-year transitional period. A new government is in place. 

Hay'at Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), which led the lightning offensive in November and December 2024 that toppled the regime, controls the sovereign ministries, delegating the remaining portfolios to technocrats with minimal political clout. The cabinet includes representatives from across Syria's ethnic, religious, and sectarian communities, though without formalised quotas or power-sharing mechanisms.

The message to Syria's political class—and those aspiring to leadership—has been clear. In the new order, there is no space for political parties or ideological blocs. Syria's priorities are security and economic recovery. This means dismantling armed groups and folding them into the newly formed Ministry of Defence through negotiation, confrontation, or forced settlement. That important phase is now largely complete. 

Today, neighbourhoods are secured by local communities—Christians, Druze, Kurds—all under the state's umbrella. Yet, the Alawite-dominated coastal region remains tense. A recent rebellion by remnants of the regime quickly escalated into a violent mutiny and subsequent retaliation, killing hundreds. The scars of this are yet to heal. It was both a domestic crisis and a litmus test for Iranian influence in the country.

Unlocking growth

The new government's composition signals a strong focus on economic recovery, with the lifting of sanctions seen as key to unlocking growth. The new Syria is not without friends, with Arab, regional, and European powers having extended a hand, moving quickly to re-engage and revive dormant cooperation agreements, but US sanctions form a hard ceiling on any meaningful economic breakthrough. 

Will they be lifted? In Washington, opinion is divided. Some urge abeyance, citing Syria's leadership links to jihadist elements. Others advise cautious re-engagement under a step-for-step framework of conditional cooperation.

On the streets of Damascus, life feels more stable than outsiders might assume from internet chatter, yet it is also more precarious than state media would suggest.

Those in the latter camp recently handed Damascus a list of eight demands. Some are contentious, not least US-imposed restrictions on Palestinian political groups in Syria, and permission for the US to militarily target Syrians in Syria. Ministers may soon get to discuss this with American officials in person, whether in Washington for World Bank meetings or in New York, where Syria's new flag will be raised at the UN.

Back in Damascus, businesspeople and former ministers who fled the country are returning to join a nationwide campaign to reform the state and unbundle the bureaucracy left by decades of authoritarianism—one that has paralysed state institutions across Syria's dysfunctional public sector. 

Out with the old

Change is badly needed. Ministries once staffed with political loyalists are now led by technocrats and specialists. There have been mass dismissals and a wave of temporary appointments, but the country's administrative system lacks the momentum needed to launch a full-scale economic recovery. All the while, adversaries—both internal and external—continue to threaten Syria's recovery.

On the streets of Damascus, in its churches, mosques, and cafés, life feels more stable than outsiders might assume from internet chatter, yet it is also more precarious than state media would suggest. Acts of reassurance, such as heightened security around Christian holidays, help to instil calm, but even a small rumour can spark panic.

While one optimistic headline may persuade a displaced family to return, another may compel a young Syrian to move abroad. Whispers of kidnappings, Western travel warnings, or news that foreign diplomats are barred from overnight stays in the capital are unlikely to persuade Syrians to stay.

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