May peace, freedom, and respect for human dignity and worth spread throughout Syria.
The Damascene Reformer*
Damascene reformers are men and women who have mastered that
impossible equation of trying to do something meaningful in a
country where no change can be introduced without the prior
approval of the security apparatus. Lawyers, western-educated
doctors, religious scholars, economists, engineers, and teachers; I
have memory upon memory of listening to them, observing them
and, above all, noticing over time the changes, subtle yet significant,
that they were remarkably able to introduce.
In the minds of Damascene reformers, the map was always clear.
There were four possible paths that could be pursued in Syria, and
only one of them promised a meaningful harvest. The first option
was to become one of those Syrians who were willing to do anything
that would result in wealth, power, and status. The second was to
become a member of the opposition, and since all opposition was
treated as criminal and treacherous, it was a willingness that had to
take into account the repercussions, not only for the individuals who
choose this path, but also those associated with them. The third path
was, in essence, to survive—to do nothing other than those aspects
of daily life that didn’t mean anything to anyone.
And then, finally, there was the fourth path. The path of those
adamant at introducing meaningful changes to what appeared to be
a meaningless setup. The path of allaying the regime’s security fears
and then proceeding to work quietly in the shadows. The path of
signing an agreement, as it were, with the security pillars of the
regime:
We will not work against you. We will say those things you like us
to say in public. We will even allow others to regard us as your
supporters. But in return, you will allow us to truly work for this
country in a manner that reflects our own values and moral
sensibility. And you will allow us to do so outside the framework of
your politicised institutions. Furthermore, we will accept that we
will be regularly harassed, especially when our achievements
become too noticeable. You will harass us, yes, but you will not
eliminate us.
This, in essence, was the operational philosophy of Damascene
reformers and their counterparts in Aleppo, Homs, Latakia and other
Syrian urban centres. It explained the choices they made, and it
provided the rationale for those choices.
Ask a random group of Syrian revolutionaries today how they
feel about those Damascenes who chose the fourth path described
above and the majority will respond by saying that this was the path
of cowards; the path of those who provided the regime with
legitimacy, and who taught Syrians to appease their oppressors. Not
only were they cowards for choosing this path, but they were also
cowards for having not spoken out in categorical terms against the
regime.
With every day that passes, not only is Syria further polarised
between the revolutionaries and regime loyalists, but also between
the reformers and the revolutionaries. It is the latter divide that
troubles me the most. My mind is cluttered with noise from both
sides. I can hear the revolutionaries scream: “How dare you be silent
when children are being killed?” And I can hear the reformers
respond: “If only screaming helped. You have been screaming for
over four years, and this tragedy has only become worse.”
The revolutionaries reflect the duality of their perception, the
black and white worldview that energises them. The reformers
reflect their complex lenses; it’s not just about what should be done,
it’s equally about when it must be done and how it must be done.
Stories come back to me. Stories I heard over and over again
about respecting the principle of time, about the price of harvesting
a field that isn’t ready, about the danger of unleashing a beast
without having the power to effectively subdue it. But these
reformist principles, wise and insightful as they felt at the time,
cannot change the fact that it must be extremely difficult to be a
Damascene reformer today.
To be a Damascene reformer is to watch over 40 years of planting—
of development, education, and infrastructure—burn within the
flames of TNT bombs and mortar shells.
To be a Damascene reformer is to watch a war glorified by both
sides that has killed hundreds of thousands, and created wounds in
Syrian society that may take decades to heal.
To be a Damascene reformer is to watch the enlightened, spiritual,
moderate Islam, so carefully sculpted since Syria gained
independence, handed over to those who regard beheading as the
grand symbol of their medieval cult.
And finally, to be a Damascene reformer is to stand for the very first
time stripped of the capacity to even contemplate reform; watching
the country being torn at its seams, and waiting for the day when the
last of the reformers will finally be eliminated for daring to believe
that reform was ever possible.