We started in Damascus to notice the signs of preparations for the December 8 celebrations right from the beginning of the month. Along with receiving many invitations to various events - both official and from civil society - street vendors selling the revolution’s flag reappeared, especially in large numbers at Umayyad Square, which had been a gathering place for Syrians’ celebrations for many months after December 8.
There is no doubt that Assad’s fall is a momentous, exceptional event. It came suddenly and shattered all the initiatives that had been calling for political “realism,” for accepting Assad once again in the international community, and normalizing relations with him. For me, it is the most important event in Syria’s modern history.
I will never forget how I felt when my son Khaled woke me early on the morning of December 8 saying: “Wake up, Mama, the regime has fallen.” I embraced him and wept bitterly. I don’t remember ever crying that way in my entire life, despite all the hardships and pain I had endured personally—from the disappearance of my younger brother, to my father’s long imprisonment and his illness while in jail, to persecution, security pressures, and threats. Perhaps that crying was my soul’s attempt to release all the accumulated anguish and pain of many years.
Yes, I will celebrate this day and allow myself joy - if I am able - despite the exhaustion, pain, and anger over what happened in Syria this year: massacres, division, and hateful rhetoric. I had hoped that one year after the fall of the regime, I would be certain that we were truly on the right path toward citizenship, the rule of law, and civil peace. I had hoped that killing, violence, and the kidnapping of women would have ended in Syria forever with the fall of Assad’s regime. The nature of the violence has changed, but it has not disappeared. There are still armed clashes along the coastal area and in Suweida, while the future of the Kurdish-dominated north remains politically uncertain.
At a small dinner hosted by the ambassador of an Arab country, gathering a few civil society actors in Damascus, the ambassador, after listening to everyone, said: “Don’t you Syrians notice that you are demanding and always seeking perfection and flawlessness, which makes you unable to see achievements and enjoy them? Look at how much pressure you place on your children to excel, even if that pressure makes you harsh toward them and toward yourselves.”
“Yes, that’s true,” I replied. As he spoke, my memory leapt far back to the days of my children’s childhood - to my strictness with them and my intolerance regarding excellence and schoolwork. I was harsh with them - and with myself. And today, even after many years, my three children never miss a chance to laugh, tease, and reproach me about how strict I used to be.
What the ambassador hinted at may be true: striving for perfection can obscure the progress made on the ground - or at least blur it - especially when combined with the critical thinking one acquires after many years of work in a human rights organization like the European Center for Constitutional and Human Rights.
Ultimately, and without a doubt, people like me in civil society are emotionally exhausted. We are caught in a constant cycle of rising hope and deep disappointment, because we want the best - and the very best - for our country. And of course, we are working and will continue to work tirelessly for a better future for Syria and all Syrians. Despite the division among Syrians over what to call December 8 - some insist on calling it “Liberation Day,” while others insist on “The Day the Regime Fell” - I will celebrate it. I will celebrate it regardless of the name, because it is: - the day prisoners were freed from the regime’s jails;
- the day millions of Syrians were freed from Russian bombardment and the threat of chemical attacks;
- the day civil society was liberated, and so were speech and opinion.
And I will celebrate it because we rid ourselves of Assad’s regime, because it is impossible to imagine a regime more harmful to Syrians. A regime of prisons, death under torture, chemical attacks, barrel bombs, mass graves, corruption, extortion, and every type of horrific crime imaginable. I will celebrate, knowing that our path ahead is still very long and very difficult. Yes, I will celebrate my return to my family, my friends, and my home. I will celebrate what I managed to accomplish this year: founding the Riyad Seif Foundation for Human Rights and the legal trainings it provides; and I will celebrate the reopening of the Democratic Dialogue Forum and the thoughtful, respectful conversations Syrians are engaging in with one another. Thank you for your support along the way, Joumana Seif P.S. If you like the Letter from Damascus, please feel free to forward it. If you have received it as a forward, you can easily subscribe via this link. A collection of my previous letters can also be found in our Living Open Archive. |
