Alawites fear for future after fall of ‘protector’ Bashar al-Assad


In the Turkish coastal town Samandag, the fall of Bashar al-Assad’s regime has met with little celebration.

It was only a few months ago that stalls in the region sold carpets and keychains emblazoned with the face of the Syrian president.

While to millions he was the Butcher of Aleppo, in Alawite-majority Samandag, just 18 miles from Syria, he represented something else – a protector of the Shia minority sect to which the Assad clan belongs.

“Bashar al-Assad was a protector of the Alawites,” said Bulent Kuş, 50, staring out at sea. “With him gone, we Alawites may face pressures.”

“Now that the Sunni Muslims have come to govern [in Syria], I hope they won‘t harm the Alawite people.”

The collapse of the Assad regime has sparked fears of sectarian violence in southern Turkey and northern Syria, where a small Alawite community has lived for centuries.

Assad stacked the Syrian government and senior military ranks with Alawite loyalists. The most cruel enforcers of his brutal crackdown on the Syrian opposition were often the “shabiha”, vicious sectarian militias.

How the Alawites – who largely supported Assad’s campaign to crush the Sunni-led challenge against his rule – are treated now is considered a litmus test on whether the takeover by Syrian rebels will lead to more bloodshed.

On Wednesday, rebels with the Islamist group that overthrew the regime, Hayat Tahrir Al-Sham (HTS), burned the tomb of Assad’s father, Hafez, who ruled Syria from 1971 until his death in 2000. The rebels, however, have so far pursued dialogue over any persecution of the Alawites as a whole.

Many Turkish Alawites retain a fondness for Assad, something which puts them at odds with wider public opinion, given Turkey’s backing of various rebel forces.

“In this area, everyone likes Assad very much – this is his community,” said Anıl, 30, gesturing around the Samandağ coast, where some of Assad’s distant relatives live.

“Assad sacrificed himself for the Alawites,” said a woman, 40, who gave her name as Frida.

“Assad is a good person, because he has mercy, and is an Alawite,” said Frida, who runs a souvenir stand by a waterfall popular among tourists. “Inshallah, when I saw that Assad left Syria I felt sad…. I want Syria to be a safe place, because now, Alawites like us are afraid to go there.”

Others sympathised with Assad – cornered and abandoned by his allies in Russia and Iran.

“Everyone knows that the people of Assad, the Alawites, struggled so much; they are very strong people,” said Edip Tarş, 52, who runs a sweets shop.

“Imagine if Assad insisted for the war to continue; then he would have to keep calling youths to fight on the frontlines,” said Mr Tarş. “He was alone; nobody helped him survive, so he had to flee.”

Anıl expressed his sentiments in a more subtle manner, using a Turkish proverb when asked how he regarded the new rebel-led regime.

The 2023 earthquake

“Gelen gideni aratır – ‘the new makes you miss the old’,” he said.

Still, many are relieved that the 13-year Syrian Civil War might finally come to a close. Its violence sometimes spilled into Turkey, with bombs exploding in frontier towns and small-scale attacks throughout the country.

On the border, an area wrecked by Turkey’s savage 2023 earthquake, the drone of combat aircraft formed the backdrop to daily life.

Now, some of the more than 3 million Syrians who fled to Turkey during the civil war have decided to return home.

“As the Syrians gradually leave, the cost of living for us here will start to abate,” said Ismail, 45, at his bakery. “Everything will become more affordable for us.”

In Antakya, the capital of Turkey’s southernmost province of Hatay, one doorframe is etched with the word “peace” in seven languages.

“Nearly 15 years of war is enough,” said Darwish Donmas, 38, a hotel owner in Samandag, shaking his head.

Hopes are high that the harmony with which the Alawites in southern Turkey have lived alongside other religious and ethnic groups can become a model as Syria transitions to a new era.

In the centre of Samandag, vegetable and fruit sellers offer their wares outside an Alawite shrine that is a major pilgrimage site. A stone’s throw away are Sunni mosques.

The wider province of Hatay is so diverse that a common symbol representing it incorporates the Jewish Star of David, a Christian cross and an Islamic crescent.

“Maybe it will become much better,” said Mr Kuş, casting another line into the sea as the sun began to set. He hopes someday to visit Syria again.

“We don’t want any wars along our borders.”

Additional reporting by Ozlem Temena

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