A fragile peace after fourteen years of civil war – the hopeful image of a stable, reconciled Syria has suffered a severe blow in recent weeks. In the northwestern coastal region of Latakia, a traditional power base of the Alawite community, heavy clashes erupted between units of the new Syrian government and armed supporters of the ousted president Bashar al-Assad. The fighting marked an escalation not seen since the official end of the civil war.
The trigger appears to have been a coordinated offensive by Assad-loyal militias targeting checkpoints and facilities of the new authorities in Alawite-dominated towns. Observers describe it as a well-planned action by former elite troops who, despite their defeat, refuse to accept the political transition under the new leadership. The offensive provoked a massive military response – with dramatic consequences for the civilian population.
Although the government was able to crush the uprising militarily, the violence did not spare non-combatants. Reports suggest that little regard was given to civilian structures during the crackdown. According to the UK-based Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, more than 1,000 people were killed in the operation – many of them women and children. The organization described it as a “massacre” reminiscent in its brutality of the worst phases of the Syrian civil war.
Particularly sensitive: On social media, especially in Alawite Facebook groups, more and more voices interpret the military action as a targeted act of revenge. Numerous posts express outrage that the Alawite population is being collectively blamed for the crimes of the former regime. The accusation of an ethnically motivated campaign of retribution is gaining traction – a narrative that could further inflame Syria’s already fragile postwar society.
For former rebel leader and interim president Ahmed al-Shaara, the clashes came as no surprise. He spoke of “predictable challenges” but blamed the “remnants of the regime,” accusing them of trying to ignite a new civil war.
Who is actually right is hard to determine in Syria’s convoluted situation. Al-Shaara announced plans to convene a National Security Council and launch an investigation into the events.
This strategic move fits the new image al-Shaara has cultivated since taking power in December 2024. What he surely knows: his credibility is at stake – as are diplomatic relations. Once an internationally wanted terrorist, he has traded his combat fatigues for a suit. His tone is moderate and measured, a stark contrast to the violent image of his past.
He promised Syria and the world a new era – one in which all the country’s minorities can live together in peace. A provisional constitution, announced on Thursday, is intended to guarantee that.
Whether his followers share this vision remains highly questionable. Syria’s interim government originates from the Islamist militia HTS, once a branch of Al-Qaeda, and still partly composed of brutal extremists. Keeping them under control may prove to be al-Shaara’s greatest challenge, experts believe.
According to accounts from a Syrian man and woman living in the EU, some of these followers are even willing to pursue their enemies as far as Europe. Both received threats from men claiming to speak on behalf of HTS. Both fear not only for their own futures, but also for their families and children – who, according to current government plans, are not allowed to join them in exile.
One of them is Ahmed. The 34-year-old Syrian has been living in Austria since 2022. The news of Bashar al-Assad’s overthrow in December last year initially filled him with hope – hope for justice and an end to years of fear. But that hope was short-lived. Just days after the regime change, Ahmed received a disturbing video on his phone. It showed a masked man wielding a Kalashnikov, speaking directly into the camera. The message was unambiguous: “Europe will deport you to Syria soon – and then you will die, you pig.”
The threat struck Ahmed deeply. His past experiences had taught him to take such warnings seriously. He originally worked as a simple camera salesman. But the war changed everything. As bombs fell and state media distorted reality, Ahmed picked up a camera – not to sell it, but to capture what was truly happening in his homeland. He filmed destroyed homes, protests, checkpoints, and sold the footage to international media.
His most dangerous time was spent in Idlib, the city in northwestern Syria that over the years became a stronghold for opposition forces and later Islamist groups. In 2017, the Islamist alliance Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), which has roots in Al-Qaeda, took control of the region. At first, Ahmed recalls, they presented themselves as moderate. The militia sought a pragmatic relationship with the population, promising order, protection, and even a measure of political freedom. “They wanted to build trust,” he says in hindsight.
But that phase didn’t last long. “After three months, the friendliness was over. They abolished democracy,” Ahmed recounts. What followed was a climate of fear. Those who dared to criticize the new rulers were persecuted – many disappeared without a trace; others later resurfaced in prison, marked by torture and mistreatment.
The United Nations confirmed Ahmed’s account. In a report by the UN Human Rights Office from September 2024, it states there is “credible evidence” of systematic torture and mistreatment in facilities operated by HTS. The allegations include beatings, electric shocks, and weeks of solitary confinement.
Ahmed is not the only one with such experiences. Khaled, an acquaintance from Idlib, also reports being imprisoned: he says he was held for three months in an underground HTS prison — without charges and without access to a lawyer. “They beat me because I took part in a protest,” he says. Today, Khaled also lives in exile — and like Ahmed, he feels that even from afar, the old shadows still reach for him.
Fatima also received a threatening video. In it, a masked man tells her it’s only a matter of time before she is deported. In Syria, they would “slaughter her like a sheep,” calling her a “bitch.” She has been living in Munich since 2023. “I had no choice but to come to Germany.” At the outbreak of the Syrian war, she was married to a conservative Muslim. They had three children. A distant family connection to a rebel leader was enough for the Assad regime to arrest her. “They imprisoned and raped me for two and a half months,” she says. Reports from that time document the abduction of relatives of rebel figures.
The stories of Syrian women in exile cast a harsh light on the rigid view of women that Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) enforced for years — and which remains deeply etched in many people’s memories. In areas controlled by the militia, strict dress codes applied, and women’s visibility in public life was severely restricted. Many recall that even going to the market or visiting relatives without a male companion was risky. Education and employment were systematically hindered — not legally prohibited, but effectively suppressed through social control, intimidation, and threats. Those who resisted risked sanctions or even imprisonment.
“You were constantly being watched — how you walked, how you spoke, how you dressed,” says Nour, a 28-year-old woman from Maarat al-Numan, who now lives in Germany. She describes the feeling of living under an invisible veil of fear that hung over everything. Even a loosely tied headscarf or smiling at the wrong time could be interpreted as provocation.
But since HTS — following the fall of the Assad regime — took over the political leadership of the entire country, it has tried to fundamentally change its image. In official statements, the new government presents itself as moderate, even somewhat progressive. Especially regarding the role of women, it has adopted a new rhetoric. The provisional constitutional declaration, announced at the beginning of the year, is meant to symbolize this change. It states that women will be guaranteed “a broad range of rights and freedoms” — including freedom of opinion, speech, and the press.
But there is a gap between ambition and reality. Although the government under Prime Minister al-Shaara emphasizes that equality is a key principle of the transitional phase, it remains unclear how these rights will actually be implemented and, more importantly, protected — particularly in rural regions, where conservative structures are deeply rooted and former HTS commanders continue to wield local power.
The provisional declaration is valid for five years. During this period, a constitutional committee — which the government says is composed of “various social groups” — is to draft a new, permanent constitution. However, critics question the independence of this body — especially since all its members were appointed by the Prime Minister himself. Women’s rights organizations also point out that not a single prominent activist has been included in the committee so far.
Thus, it remains to be seen whether the promised freedoms for women are more than just diplomatic rhetoric — and whether the lives of Syrian women will fundamentally change after years of war and repression. There is also a pressing question: Are the threats merely coming from out-of-control fanatics, or is this the true face behind al-Shaara’s new facade? Most experts find the latter plausible — precisely because there are so many uncontrollable elements. After all, HTS is far from a homogeneous organization.
