News about Syria

Kurdish unrest in Syria echoes Iraq conflict


Arab diplomats say unrest in Kurdish areas in Syria are chilling sign ethnic tensions may be bubbling over from Iraqi border.


By Roueida Mabardi - DAMASCUS

Deadly clashes which have paralysed Kurdish areas in northern Syria and killed 40 people are a chilling sign that ethnic tensions may be bubbling over from the Iraqi border, Arab diplomats here said Thursday.

The unrest, which erupted Friday in the northeastern governorate of Hassake between local Kurds and Syrian security forces, drawn from Arab tribes, has raised the ominous prospect of regional destabilisation, diplomats said.

The violence, first sparked by rival fans at a football match in the city of Qameshli, has unsettled Washington, which is already poised to slap economic and political sanctions on Damascus.

The US State Department has called on Damascus to halt repression of its Kurdish minority, while Deputy Secretary of State Richard Armitage has said sanctions will soon be announced because of Syria's alleged support of terror.

Damascus vehemently opposed the US-led invasion of Iraq last March, which it insisted would destabilise the troubled Middle East.

Baathist leaders here fear that Iraqi Kurdish ambitions for self-rule could foster an uprising among Syria's own Kurdish minority, estimated at around 1.5 million people or nine percent of the population.

"The unrest has resurrected the Kurdish problem in Syria," said one Arab diplomat in Damascus.

"The current regional climate" may encourage Kurdish demands for self-autonomy, he added, referring to developments in neighbouring northern Iraq.

Human rights lawyer Anwar Bunni has called on Damascus to usher in a political thaw to solve the Kurdish question. Hundreds of Kurds have been arrested in the unrest, said Bunni, who was unable to give an exact number.

Although his human rights group has condemned "acts of sedition" by Kurds who ransacked and burned public buildings, it has also called for the release of those arrested.

But Syrian forces appeared Thursday to have regained a semblance of calm in northern areas after six days of unrest.

In the town of Ifrin on the northeastern Syrian-Turkish border near Aleppo, three Kurds and a policeman were killed late Wednesday when locals sprayed bullets at a police patrol, a Kurdish party official said.

Abdel Hamid Darwish, secretary general of the Kurdish Democratic Progressive Party, said the latest deaths raised to 40 - 33 Kurds and seven Arabs - the number killed in clashes since Friday.

Security forces still heavily guarded the Ashrafiye suburb of Aleppo that was rocked by protests Tuesday, as local Kurds stayed at home, Darwish added.

Witnesses confirmed the police presence there, as well as around the university campus in Aleppo where Kurdish students threw stones and smashed windows on Tuesday.

In Qameshli, 600 kilometres (400 miles) northeast of Damascus, businesses reopened, but schools were deserted and the streets quiet.

Arsonists again torched the city's warehouses, just days after wheat stores were pillaged.

Abdel Baki Yussef from the radical Yakiti party, which has close ties to Iraq's Kurdistan Democratic Party (KDP), said more than 1,000 Kurds had been arrested since Friday in the Damascus suburb of Dummar, and around Qameshli and Aleppo.

Kurdish political groups, which officially are banned in Syria, campaign for cultural and political rights, but Baathists suspect radicals of harbouring separatist ambitions that collide with their own pan-Arab, unitarian ideology.

For Bunni, catering for minorities is a red line that the Baath regime is not prepared to cross.

Syria's Vice President Abdel Halim Khaddam dismissed the troubles as "exploited by foreign parties" and inflated by the foreign media. They are now over, he insisted Wednesday

DAMASCUS DISPATCH
Chaos Theory
by Annia Ciezadlo

Post date 06.30.05 | Issue date 07.11.05

If ever a country seemed ripe for regime change, Syria is it. It's run by a cabal of insiders, many from the same minority religious sect. In a region famed for joblessness, it has one of the highest rates of newly unemployed. Faced with relentless U.S. pressure--and with Iraq and Lebanon both undergoing seismic changes next door--Syrian President Bashar Al Assad should be running scared. "[F]ear of American power, and the example of American forces flushing Saddam Hussein out of his spider hole, now drive Syrian policy," exulted Fouad Ajami in The Wall Street Journal in May, adding that Syria's rulers hang on George W. Bush's every word, "wondering if Iraq was a crystal ball in which they could glimpse their future."

But, here in Damascus, it's Assad's opponents who are frightened. They fear going to jail, as many did last month in "Black May," when the government rounded up dozens of dissidents. They worry about being assassinated, like their friend and supporter, Lebanese journalist Samir Kassir. They're afraid of disappearing and turning up dead, like Sheik Mohammed Mashouq Al Khaznawi, a moderate Kurdish cleric who dared to call for political change.

Most of all, though, they are afraid of regime change itself--and of ending up like Iraq. In Syria, it's Assad's opponents, more than Assad himself, who fear Ajami's crystal ball. "We don't need war, really," says Kamal Al Labwani, a doctor who was imprisoned in Assad's 2001 crackdown on pro-democracy gatherings. "Not because we like this regime. We hate this regime. But only because we're very weak, really. We are afraid of civil war like Iraq."

Instead of inspiring Syrians, the example of Iraq has made even those who openly oppose the government deeply fearful of regime change. That fear has divided a weak opposition and strengthened Assad's already heavy hand. Among Syria's dissidents, the war next door has created a quandary: Syria's current government is intolerable. But sharing Iraq's fate--the only alternative most of them can envision right now--would be worse. "This is the dilemma," says Omar Amiralay, a prominent Syrian filmmaker and opposition leader. "Between wanting the regime to end, and, on the other side, fear of repeating the catastrophe in Iraq." For American policy-makers, Syria is a foreign policy koan: how to change this regime without regime change?



In the late '70s and early '80s, the Muslim Brotherhood fought a bloody guerrilla war against the Baath, Syria's ruling party since 1963. Then-President Hafez Al Assad, Bashar's father, put down the uprising with uncommon savagery, razing the town of Hama, killing between 10,000 and 20,000 inhabitants and jailing scores of opponents. Today, the Baath prides itself on bringing order and stability to the country. Visible symbols of control are everywhere, even on the mountains that ring Damascus, one of which sports a gigantic digital clock--like a Baathist hollywood sign--that tells the time down to the second.

But that clock is ticking for Assad, and he knows it. Few Syrians make more than $150 per month, and they are well-aware of how Assad's circle of cronies is plundering the country's wealth. With a sluggish official growth rate of less than 3 percent and a record number of young Syrians graduating into a nonexistent job market, most analysts believe the country is headed for a social explosion in the next several years. "It's not important whether you are a true reformer or not. It's reform or die," says Marwan Kabalan, a political science professor who consults for the government. "Bashar's very existence is tied to reform."

Today, the secular Syrian opposition is split into two camps: those who hope that the government will see the looming disaster and reform of its own accord, and those who aren't quite sure what to hope for. Louay Hussein, a publisher who defied a government ban forbidding him to write, is in the first camp. "The best possible thing that could happen is that part of the power--the system, the regime--stages a white revolution," Hussein said in May, before the Baath Party's congress in early June. "There is no real opposition, no real alternative to take over the country. In this situation, there could be another civil war."

Hussein and others hoped that the congress, which ended on June 9, would usher in enough small changes to strengthen Syrian civil society--a sort of Syrian glasnost. Instead, Assad used the congress to consolidate his power, replacing a prominent member of his father's old guard with his own appointee and delivering a somnolent paean to the Arab nation's "steadfastness" against external threats--traditionally a code word for Israel, but one that has now expanded to include the U.S. project in Iraq.



For the United States, Syria is a logical next target for regime change. There's a popular joke in Damascus about this: American troops invade Syria. U.S. tanks, rolling triumphantly into the capital, get as far as Umayyad Square, a traffic roundabout that has been under construction for nearly two years. The American soldiers stop, climb out of their tanks, and look around at the dust, the destruction, the piles of torn concrete and rebar. "Turn around, let's go home," they shout. "We already came through here!"

The problem for American policymakers, post-Iraq, is to convince the Syrian people that the United States won't worsen the destruction already surrounding them. "If Americans want to present themselves to the Syrian people in a different light, they have to regain their virginity," says Amiralay. "The Americans have to take an interest in defending the Syrian people, and that's something that's been missing from the American engagement with Syria until now."

How could the United States pressure Assad without alienating average Syrians? One option is to create a wedge between Syria's Arabs and its Kurdish population of nearly two million, of whom over one-tenth live stateless in their own country, stripped of their citizenship by the Syrian government in 1962. Unlike Syria's Arab majority, the Kurds are actually inspired by the example of what has happened in Iraq. But Syria's dissidents fear that using the Kurds against the regime would trigger ethnic war, Iraq-style. "Signs of internal restlessness are increasing, and you see it very clearly in the north, in the Kurdish areas," says Yassin Al Haj Saleh, an ex-communist who spent 16 years in jail. "If we have a social explosion, God forbid, this social explosion might take on a sectarian character."

Targeted sanctions against individual members of Assad's inner circle might be another option, one that the U.S. Congress has begun contemplating. But would it be enough? Some are skeptical. "It would hurt them a little bit, on a personal level, if their houses in Virginia Beach were taken away and their kids couldn't go to American universities," says Joshua Landis, a history professor at the University of Oklahoma who is currently living in Damascus. "But the regime would tough it out. They have toughed out much worse than that. These guys don't have to go to America--they can go to Paris."

Haj Saleh and others point to a few simple things the U.S. government could do to build support inside Syria. First of all, American politicians need to stop calling "Syria" the enemy and start saying "the Syrian government." The United States could also take steps to resolve the deadlock between Israel and Syria over the Golan Heights, which Assad, like his father before him, is using as an excuse to maintain martial law. It should also get the Europeans on board; about half of Syria's trade is with EU countries.

Most importantly, they suggest supporting Syrian civil society. "The U.S. and the Europeans should do whatever they can to support Syria's civil society--it's small, but it exists," says Maan Abdul Salam, an opposition activist who heads a publishing house in Damascus and also runs a website dedicated to women's issues. "If you are making pressure on the top, you need a foundation at the bottom so everything doesn't collapse. It will not be like the Iraq situation if they build something." For years, U.S. foreign policy toward Arab countries, whether friend or foe, has focused on despots. But the message from Syrian reformers is that, instead of worrying so much about our enemies, perhaps we should pay a little more attention to our friends.

Annia Ciezadlo is a Beirut-based writer.

Syria's opposition creeps out of the shadows as crisis grows

Dissent brutally put down but Islamists and liberals unite to rally support

Rory McCarthy in Damascus
Friday November 4, 2005
The Guardian

It was early in the morning as Anwar al-Bouni drove to the court in Damascus where he works as a human rights lawyer. He had just spent 10 days in hiding, afraid that the regime was trying to frame him in a criminal case to silence his outspoken views. He barely noticed the two motorbikes next to him.

When he slowed to make a turn, the second bike pulled up and the pillion passenger kicked at Bouni's door. He stopped the car. "What happened? What's the matter?" he said. The man jumped off the bike, opened the door and began punching and kicking Bouni.

"He didn't say anything. He just beat me on my head, my nose, my mouth. He hit me, he kicked me and then when people started to gather around us, he got on the bike and drove off," said Bouni, sitting in his apartment chain smoking, and sipping black coffee. He was bruised and badly shaken, but escaped serious injury.

The incident was a crude reminder of the perils of criticism in Syria's closed society. During decades of dictatorship all opposition movements have been firmly repressed. There are few who dare to publicly condemn the regime. Bouni is one of them and now he is too scared to go back to work. Others have been forced into exile or sent to jail.

Prisoners of conscience

"I know there is a price to pay. If they are going to arrest me, then I am ready. But I was surprised to see it happen this way," said Bouni, who first became a lawyer to represent the six members of his family who were jailed as political prisoners.

Syria is now facing its greatest challenge for more than 20 years, a crisis that may bring down the Damascus regime. Senior Syrian officials have been implicated in the assassination of the former Lebanese prime minister, Rafik Hariri, and a unanimous UN security council resolution this week ordered the regime to cooperate with the on-going inquiry or face "further action".

Yet the ultimate dilemma for the country as a whole is that at a time when the regime's survival is threatened there is no credible opposition ready to take power. There is a small, secular, liberal movement made up of leftwing dissidents and human rights activists, like Bouni, who propose a democratic future but have little support on the streets. And there is a larger Sunni Islamist movement which has more street power and a more conservative agenda, but has been crushed by the regime.

"The opposition hasn't been able to make a real relationship with the people because they have no media that reaches ordinary people," said Bouni.

Newspapers and television channels are state controlled, which means most Syrians' only access to news about the opposition comes from Arabic-language satellite channels, radio, or for a few, the internet. This means the opposition's progress is often more closely followed by western diplomats and think-tanks, than by ordinary Syrians on the street.

While many Syrians privately criticise the regime and accept it was probably involved in the Hariri assassination, they are also defensive about pressure from the west. "People don't understand what's happening. They think America is attacking Syria and they are afraid of change," said Bouni.

Reform agenda

Last month the opposition drew up an agreement calling for reform and elections. It united secular liberals with Kurdish activists and, most importantly, with Islamists - even the outlawed Muslim Brotherhood, the largest Sunni religious movement, signed up.

The Damascus Declaration for Democratic National Change blamed 30 years of authoritarianism for Syria's problems and called for a "radical change in the country and the rejection of all forms of cosmetic, partial, or circumspect reform." It was carefully phrased but important because it meant the opposition finally stated that the regime itself was the problem. Among those who signed up publicly was Riyad Sayf, a prominent Damascus businessman and MP, who is still in jail after a crackdown on political openness five years ago.

Haitham al-Maleh, a veteran human rights lawyer with Islamist links who also signed the declaration, was encouraged by the support of the Muslim Brotherhood. Under Bashar Assad's father, Hafez, the Brotherhood in Syria was crushed in the early 1980s, leaving tens of thousands dead and many more in jail. "The Islamists have paid a high price and they are still afraid and until now they have been sleeping," said Maleh. "Maybe this declaration will make the opposition stronger than before. If the Islamist side moves, then maybe something will happen."

Activists have waited for years for Mr Assad to live up to his claims to be a reformer. It is true that jails are less crowded with political prisoners than they were in his father's time and that vast portraits of his father have been replaced by advertising hoardings. This is not like Iraq under Saddam Hussein: mobile phones and satellite television are freely available. But membership of the Muslim Brotherhood is still punishable by death, intelligence agencies operate with impunity, and political critics are often jailed.

Shadow of Iraq

On Wednesday 190 political prisoners were freed, which may have been a gesture for the Muslim holiday of Eid or, as some government officials promise, the beginning of a reform programme. Absent among those released, however, was the dissident MP Riyad Sayf.

Always, the shadow of Iraq hangs in the background. President Assad's regime likes to argue it is the only reasonable alternative to civil war and an Islamist-run state. "The experience in Iraq has hurt us a lot," said Michel Kilo, a writer and left-wing political activist.

"Bashar has pushed his country into a final struggle with international forces. Society is without hope and we worry that there will be a catastrophic finale."

The opposition groups

Muslim Brotherhood
The Sunni Muslim religious movement, outlawed in Syria. Led by Ali Bayanouni from exile in London, but has members operating secretly inside the country. Probably the largest opposition force.

Secular liberals
A small group, many of whom are leftwing, who campaign for democratic reform. Among them are MPs who took part in an experiment in political openness only to end up in jail.

Kurds
Several Kurdish parties have campaigned for years for civil rights in Syria.

Exiles
Farid Ghadry, a Syrian living in the US, runs the Reform Party of Syria, which calls for democratic change in Damascus but has limited support inside the country.

300,000 Syrian Kurds 'Buried Alive'

Abid Aslam
OneWorld US
Feb. 14, 2006

They went to sleep as Syrians and woke up stripped of their citizenship and their rights to study, work, or marry as they wish.

Such was the fate of 120,000 Syrian Kurds who became people with no country in 1962, when they were purged from the Syrian population in a politically motivated one-day census, the Washington, D.C.-based humanitarian group Refugees International said in a new report Tuesday.

Today, their ranks have swollen to 300,000 and their plight is such that one Syrian Kurdish man interviewed by the group described it as "like being buried alive." [..]

The Kurds disowned in 1962 officially were branded "foreigners" but since they enjoyed citizenship nowhere else, they were condemned to statelessness. They have only spotty access to education, health care, and employment--rights enjoyed by other Syrians, the report said. They face difficulty in owning businesses and property.

"Even registering a marriage, traveling outside of the country or changing one's residence is a particular challenge for Syrian Kurds," Refugees International said. [..] Those hardships are faced not only by the generation written off in 1962 but also by their heirs. [..]

The government recognizes Kurdish children's right to primary education but stateless Kurds face trouble getting into secondary school and college, according to Refugees International.

Stateless Kurds also are barred from government jobs and from practicing law or medicine. They are allowed to work in some, but not all, teaching and engineering jobs. Stateless Kurdish men cannot legally marry Syrian women, according to the report.

Kurds are barred from using their language in conversation, publications, and in the naming of their children. They face interrogation, detention, and torture, according to the report.

All this is the result of a 1962 census officially conducted to identify foreigners said to have crossed the border from Turkey illegally, Refugees International said. In fact, it added, the head-count formed part of a drive to 'Arabize' Syria's resource-rich northeast.

''To retain their citizenship, Kurds had to prove residence in Syria prior to 1945, but many Kurds with proof of residence lost their nationality anyway,'' the organization said.

The issue has haunted Syria and periodically has spilled over into public protest, regional uprisings and, in 2004, major race rioting sparked by a soccer match, according to rights watchdog Amnesty International.

Syrian opposition urges regime's ouster