Syrian Christians hold their breath

In Idlib, a Syrian city controlled by these fighters since 2016, the once-thriving Christian community was purged. Churches were closed, public symbols of Christianity were banned, and Christian property was seized. Today, black signs in Idlib declare that “mixing is haram” and that Shia Muslims “are the enemies of Islam.” Other billboards claim that women must be covered “from head to toe” and that “a woman without her hijab is a city without doors.”

As Dr. Nabil Antaki, director of the Blue Marists, a Franciscan charity, told a French news channel: “We all remember what happened to the Christians of Idlib and Mosul,” a reference to the atrocities also inflicted on Christians in Iraq after jihadists claimed Mosul. “We fear suffering the same fate.” I am the co-founder of Project Onwards, a Syrian-American nonprofit that helps Syrian youth, and our organization worked with The Marist Blues after last year’s devastating earthquakes in Aleppo. Antaki’s work primarily benefits the poorest classes of Aleppo society, primarily Muslims. For him, fearing the sectarian nature of HTS is revealing.

I now live in the Boston area, but close friends in Aleppo told me that when HTS first arrived in the city on November 29, they feared being massacred. The following night, HTS leaders, dressed in nice suits, visited most of the city’s Christian parishes, promising that no one would be forced to wear the veil, that no property would be stolen, and that their way of life would be fiercely protected.

But the reality was different. Despite a media campaign by Hayat Tahrir al-Sham to allay the fears of Syria’s minority communities, liquor stores were destroyed and a Christmas tree in Al Aziziah, the Christian center of Aleppo, was cut down – then restored hastily after the media reaction. Jihadists dressed in black balaclavas ask women to cover their hair. One woman I know refused, citing promises HTS leaders made the day before at her church. The fighter who asked him this walked away angrily.

New billboards have appeared in Aleppo, quoting the new HTS-appointed Minister of Justice, who said that Islamic Sharia is “the reference and authority in your disputes, affairs and various transactions.”

So far, crimes against Christians have been relatively limited, likely due to international press attention. Other minorities, such as Kurds, Ismailis and Yazidis, may not be so lucky. In a viral video, an HTS fighter wearing a “press” vest hurls insults and kicks Kurds lying on the ground. In another, shared on the group’s Telegram, Shiite villagers are beaten, called “pigs” and threatened with beheading. Our biggest fear is that this group will act like the Taliban did in Afghanistan, especially since they “consider the Taliban as a model”, as explained by Joshua Landis, director of the Center for Studies on Middle East at the University of Oklahoma. .

Although minorities are grateful to be alive, the relief is fragile. Many are now wondering how long the HTS senior command will be able to keep its fighters under control. Longer than the Muslim Brotherhood managed to do has in Egypt? More time than it took for the Taliban to go back on their promise to educate women? HTS’s promises appear motivated by the need to maintain foreign support.

These fears are not new. During 14 years of a bloody civil war, many Kurds, Shiites, Ismailis, Druze and Christians reluctantly sided with the Alawite-dominated regime of Bashar al-Assad. My parents did this even though they understood the widespread corruption and brutality of the Alawite oligarchy that ruled our country.

I will never forget the day my father, a respected dentist from Aleppo, was taken to prison after a neighbor falsely accused him of insulting the president. It was in 2008, before the start of the Arab Spring in Tunisia. Despite my father’s good reputation and connections, he was detained by domestic intelligence until the neighbor withdrew his accusation.

Once the nature of the opposition became apparent, my family sided with the minority government. It was a question of survival.

Today, this deeply sectarian ideology once again roams the streets of Aleppo. My family in Aleppo, Homs and Damascus – as well as Boston – jump at every WhatsApp notification. My phone is flooded with videos of trucks blaring “nasheeds,” or Islamic hymns, as they travel the streets I once called home.

As chaos sets in, new threats emerge. In northern Syria, there is talk of Turkey’s capture of Aleppo through the Turkish-controlled Syrian National Army – a mercenary group involved in the 2020 Nagorno-Karabakh war. For the community Armenian and Syriac Christian from Aleppo, who has already suffered generational trauma due to the Armenian war. and the Syriac genocides, the presence of Turkish-backed forces is deeply alarming.

Last Sunday morning, as we drove to our Syriac Aramaic church in Boston – built by three generations of the Iraqi, Lebanese and Syrian diaspora who escaped war and persecution – my parents and I discussed how we would react to the mixed emotions of the congregation. To those who looked pale, reliving the horrors of their own persecution, we would offer hope and comfort. By meeting those who celebrated the fall of the Syrian government simply because their social media asked them to, we would step aside with grace. And for those caught in the middle, excited but nervous, we would ask about the safety of their families, listen and pray. Pray that once the international news cycle moves forward, Syria will avoid the fate that befell almost every country the West helped liberate from dictatorship.

Layla Maria Aboukhater is an MD/MBA candidate at Stanford University, a Master of Public Health from Johns Hopkins University, and co-founder of Project Onwards, a Syrian-American nonprofit.