Thread by @jihadyazigi

I made a short trip to Damascus, from January 9 to 14, for the first time in 13 years. Some quick remarks here:

I spent all my time in Damascus, which meant I saw little of what was happening in the rest of the country. From my experience during the Syrian revolution—and more generally from living in centralised countries—the situation in a capital city often provides only limited insight into what is happening elsewhere. (My advice to fellow journalists: make an effort to visit other cities and provinces.)

I made the choice of avoiding as much as possible speaking in conferences (I spoke only in one that was organised by Syrbanism with whom we collaborate in our HLP work), meeting with officials from the new government, speaking to journalists and more generally meeting or speaking with anyone whom I could meet outside Syria. I really focused on talking to Syrian friends, former colleagues or contacts I could not meet for more than 13 years. I was not there for work. I wanted to listen to, look at, smell Syria. I wandered around the streets, had long discussions in cafés and homes. I also avoided taking photos. I understand people who took plenty of photos (after all many of those coming from abroad thought they may never return alive to Syria and were overwhelmed with happiness) or spoke at/organised plenty of events (Syrians were thirsty for public events of that kind). But I must admit that the behaviour of some of the returnees appeared a bit obscene to me.

One thing that struck me with regards to the city is how tired, crowded and poor, it looked. More than one person compared the city to Cairo for the poverty and crowd. The taxis I rode were old, the clothes people wear looked worn out, very few of the city's buildings went through any form of rehabilitation in the past 13 years. Street food shops selling shawarma mostly serve only chicken shawarma, not meat.

Many places and shops looked very similar to what they were 13 years ago, although sometimes you get asked questions you don't necessarily expect. Before entering the Cham Palace Hotel, for example, I went through a metal detector which beeped; I was asked, as if this was perfectly normal, if I held any weapons under my jacket!

You see only few armed men in the streets. Traffic is terrible at peak (and less peak) hours and resembles Beirut. The good thing is that Damascenes start their day late (which I had forgotten), so before 10am you can drive relatively smoothly.

Most public services are in poorer shape than they were before December 8, mainly electricity (supplies of oil from Iran and SDF areas have stopped) and Internet (not clear why). Almost all buildings in the city have solar panels on their roofs. People are very happy at the much-reduced price of cars, which cost now a fraction of what they did. Owning a car is important for social status but also simply for the facility of traveling around. But I am not sure anyone realises what this will means in terms of future traffic levels.

There is a huge number of events organised by civil society in Damascus (very few are organised in other cities). Some organisations and individuals have already attended/organised multiple events. People inside are clearly hungry for such events as testified by the large turnouts. At the same time, some people from inside the country told me feeling "invaded" by the huge inflow of civil society actors.

A question I often heard is ‘Why hasn’t Al-Sharaa yet spoken to the population?’ The new Syrian leader has talked to a lot of Arab and European media but not a single local one. Common answers included: he doesn’t want to make any commitment he may not be able to meet; whatever he says is going to displease a significant part of his supporters; he holds no official position under the current constitution, which disqualifies him to speak, etc. While the radical aspect of his ideology is a source of concerns for many, I heard many complaining more about the lack of security in some rural parts of the country, about the multiplicity of armed groups across the country, about the economic difficulties.

Not a single person I met (and I met many from minority communities) regretted the regime, not even one. And the defining feature of my trip was the sense of hope I felt everywhere. However, there is some nuance between Syrians coming from abroad, who are overwhelmed with joy and generally very optimistic about the future, and those inside, who are relieved by the end of the regime, but some of whom also have concerns. Clearly, those inside Syria have adapted to their very difficult life, learned to survive in their very difficult circumstances. December 8 was a great relief, but it forces them to adapt to a new change without them knowing where the road ends. Should anything bad happen, expats/refugees can fly back to their countries of refuge; Syrian residents will not have that option.

The most important moment of my trip was my meeting with Raghid Al-Tatari, a former Syrian air force pilot, who spent 43 years in prison. Raghid Al-Tatari was the oldest political prisoner in Syria and possibly in the Arab world. I had no objective reason to meet him, except for the fact that we have a common friend (who spent a year in the prison of Adra with Raghid and who sent him a present from France). His eyes, his voice, his physical presence (although he is short and slim), will stay for the rest of my life.