Syria needs a new reconstruction approach

Yet instead of being celebrated, the project provoked resentment among residents of the Qarabis neighbourhood, one of the areas directly affected. The land earmarked for Boulevard al-Nasr overlapped with territory previously seized by the regime for another controversial initiative known as The Homs Dream. 

The memory of that earlier displacement reignited fears of being uprooted again and fuelled protests soon after the project's announcement. Despite assurances from developers and local authorities that property rights would be safeguarded and fairly compensated, many residents felt the project was not designed for them. On 17 August, under mounting pressure, the development company removed Qarabis from the project altogether. This marked the first major post-transition investment to be derailed by civic resistance, but it would not be the last.

Around the same time, an investment project in central Damascus sparked a similar wave of public anger. In the upscale district of Abu Rummaneh, residents learned that part of Al-Jahiz Park—one of the capital's last remaining green spaces—was about to be handed over to a private investor.

Details of the plan were announced on billboards at the park's entrance, displaying glossy renderings of the park's supposed upgrade. The proposal included cafes, paid parking, and fenced-off areas. While the governorate presented the deal as a rehabilitation project, residents saw it as privatisation in disguise.

News of the plan spread quickly. Residents circulated documents and images of the proposed changes, fuelling outrage. Within hours, locals staged a sit-in inside the park. Families carried signs demanding the protection of public space. Videos of the protest quickly went viral, and a petition gathered hundreds of signatures in days.

Within 48 hours, officials backtracked. The governorate met with a local committee and publicly cancelled the investment plan, promising instead a community-led rehabilitation effort in partnership with neighbourhood representatives.

The victory in Al-Jahiz Park delivered a clear message: even in the heart of Damascus, citizens could still assert their right to shape public space.

Transparency deficiency

Though different in scope, the projects in Homs and Damascus reveal the same underlying flaw: reconstruction efforts are designed behind closed doors, announced with great fanfare, and imposed on communities with little or no consultation.

The authorities' eventual responses in both cases were positive and, crucially, aligned with residents' demands. This represents a marked departure from the authoritarian practices of the former regime. Yet these episodes also underscore the urgent need to rethink how reconstruction is planned and communicated.

The absence of community involvement is not a minor oversight. It reflects a systemic failure. Officials assumed public consent was automatic, shutting residents out of decisions that directly affect their lives.

Regardless of intent, this top-down model does not foster trust; it erodes it. In both Homs and Damascus, authorities and investors acted first and listened later. There were no public forums, no inclusive planning sessions, no transparent avenues for feedback. Communities were informed, not engaged. The result was predictable: frustration, anger, and resistance.

In a country where social cohesion is already fragile, pressing forward with investor-driven projects without local buy-in is not just shortsighted—it is reckless. Instead of uniting people around recovery, this approach alienates them from the very initiatives meant to restore their lives.

The pushback in Homs and Damascus highlights more than a gap between official planning and local needs. It signals the rise of grassroots civic power. Above all, it demonstrates that people care deeply about their neighbourhoods and that civic action can shape outcomes.

These episodes of resistance should not be dismissed as obstacles to progress. They are evidence that Syrian communities are not passive recipients of someone else's vision. They are ready to engage, and they must be given a seat at the table. Until that happens, they remain willing – and determined – to fight for their neighbourhoods, their parks, and their futures.

Rebuilding trust

Syria urgently needs investment. Its infrastructure lies in ruins, and its economy is in crisis. But rebuilding must mean more than pouring concrete. It must also mean rebuilding trust between citizens and the institutions meant to serve them. Physical reconstruction without social legitimacy is an empty exercise.

For foreign investors and international institutions eyeing Syria's recovery, the warning could not be clearer: projects without community buy-in are bound to fail. Accountability is not a luxury. It is the only safeguard against failure.

When redevelopment is perceived as dispossession— when a park upgrade feels like privatisation, or a housing project threatens to uproot families—the outcome is inevitable: people resist.

The lesson is straightforward. For Syria's reconstruction to succeed, communities must be consulted before projects are launched, not informed once contracts are signed. Ethical reconstruction requires more than compensation. It requires transparency, accountability, and genuine participation.

This means embedding consultation into every stage of planning, from feasibility studies to contract negotiations. It means publishing terms, opening tenders to scrutiny, and granting communities the right not only to provide input but also to reject projects that endanger their interests.

Public consultation is not a bureaucratic formality; it is a political necessity. In a country emerging from war, trust is the most valuable currency. It cannot be manufactured through press releases; it must be earned, project by project, by treating communities as partners rather than obstacles. When people feel excluded or dispossessed, they push back. When they are respected, they reciprocate with trust.

The resistance in Homs and Damascus should not be seen as a threat. It is an opportunity: a chance to rebuild Syria with its people, not just for them. Without Syrians' direct involvement, there can be no sustainable reconstruction, only a repetition of the mistakes that drove the country into ruin.