Syria's minorities seek security as country charts new future

Driving into Mezzeh 86, a working-class neighbourhood in the west of Damascus, we are waved through a checkpoint manned by fighters from Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS).

Buildings are rundown and in need of repairs.

This area is dominated by people from Bashar al-Assad's Alawite sect, an offshoot of Shia Islam whose members make up one of Syria's biggest religious minorities.

Alawites controlled power in the predominantly Sunni Muslim country for the 50 years of the Assad family's rule, holding top positions in the government, military and intelligence services.

Now, many from the community fear reprisals following the overthrow of the Assad regime by rebels led by HTS, a Sunni Islamist group that was once al-Qaeda affiliate in Syria.

Dozens of Alawites who we had contacted by phone had refused to speak to us, with many saying they were scared.

In Mezzeh 86, the presence of HTS fighters at a checkpoint did not appear to be a source of anxiety.

Many Alawites did come up and speak with us - keen to distance themselves from Assad's regime.

"During the Assad regime, the stereotype about the Alawites is that they got all the work opportunities and that they are wealthy. But, in fact, most Alawites are poor and you'll only find one among a thousand who is rich," said Mohammad Shaheen, a 26-year-old pharmacy student.

"Even when HTS went to Alawite villages near the coast, they found all villages were poor. Only the Assad family amassed wealth," he added, referring to the Alawite heartland in the country's west.

Hasan Dawood, a shopkeeper, chimed in: "We were slaves for him - drivers, cooks and cleaners."

There's also a sense of betrayal.

"Bashar was a traitor. And the way he fled was cowardly. He should have at least addressed people and told us what was happening. He left without a word, which made the situation chaotic," said Mohammad.

But people from the Alawite community, and indeed from this neighbourhood, did serve in Assad's brutal security forces. Do they fear reprisals against them, we asked.

"Those who were in the military and did bad things have fled. No-one knows where they are. They are afraid of revenge," said Thaier Shaheen, a construction worker.

"But people who don't have blood on their hands, they are not scared, and have stayed back."

There have been reports of a few reprisal killings in parts of the country, but so far there is no evidence to suggest they were carried out by HTS.

"Until now, we are OK. We are talking to Hayat Tahrir al-Sham and they are respectful. But there are people who aren't from HTS but pretend to be them who are making threats. They want our society to fail and they are the ones we are scared of," said Mohammad.

After taking control of Damascus, HTS and its allies said those from the deposed regime who had been involved in torture and killings would be held to account, although it is unclear so far what form that justice will take.

HTS also said that the rights and freedoms of religious and ethnic minorities would be protected.

The group has a jihadist past which it has distanced itself from. But it has an Islamist present, and many are asking what that will mean for Syria's plural society.

We drove around 110km (70 miles) south-east of Damascus, through black volcanic hills, to the city of Suweida, which is home to most of Syria's Druze population.

The Druze faith is another offshoot of Shia Islam, but has its own unique identity and beliefs.

Many Druze were loyal to the Assad regime, who they believed would protect minorities.

But opposition grew steadily during the war, and there were frequent protests in recent years.

The latest started in Suweida's central square in August 2023 and continued until the day the regime fell.

Activist Wajiha al-Hajjar believes that the protests were not brutally cracked down on like others in Syria, because Assad wanted to show the world and his foreign allies that he was protecting minorities.

"They did try to suppress our protest but in a different way - not through weapons or shelling, but by depriving us of passports and civil rights, and access to official documents. It became difficult to leave Suweida and a kind of siege was imposed," she said.

Hundreds still gather at the square every day. When we visited, there was an air of celebration. Songs were blaring on a loudspeaker, and young girls and boys were doing a gymnastics performance, their families clapping and cheering for them.

"We are celebrating the fall of the regime, but this gathering is also a show of strength. In the event that there is an extreme regime with extreme laws, we are prepared to stay in this square and demand our rights and demand equality," Wajiha said.

Suweida had a quasi-autonomous status under Assad, and the Druze want that to continue.

It is just one example of the diversity and complexity of Syrian society, and the challenges facing the country's new government.

Additional reporting by Aamir Peerzada, Leen Al-Saadi and Sanjay Ganguly