‘About the Happiness of the Oppressed’:

 

In a blog essay published in Al Modon newspaper, Syrian short story writer and author Riham Essa touches the surface of the complex emotions she, and perhaps other Syrians, have felt in the wake of the Assad regime’s fallout as the country contemplates its new beginning. Syria, she writes, “has never been a homeland, especially after 2011."

 

Her essay begins with a vivid comparison of Assad's Syria to a grave: “Assad’s regime has turned the country into a grave with walking corpses, with its population focusing on survival by ignoring their fundamental rights, unable to demand even the minimum requirements of a decent life.”

 

Indeed, much has been written on the human struggle against oppression. Essa’s article in Al Modon, titled “About the Happiness of the Oppressed,” comes as no surprise as Syria emerges from its half a century of tyranny. At one point in her life, she believed that thinking about salvation was madness, yet she could not stop herself from imagining the moment of the regime’s fall. These feelings are typical of people living under authoritarian regimes, including those under the Assad regime.

 

These feelings of yearning were accompanied by hopelessness and pessimism. As Syria celebrates Assad’s defeat, Essa extends the victory to everyone, even those who had never denounced him, reasoning that “I knew very well that no one wanted him, and the fear of the unknown was why some people sided with state institutions and not with Assad as president."

 

Essa’s concerns and apprehensions align with those of many Syrians and Lebanese. The anti-sentiment of Ahmed al-Sharaa's regime had less to do with his history and the Al-Nusra group he led during the Syrian civil war after 2011 than with the shock and sudden takeover of December 8, 2024, referred to as Operation Deterrence of Aggression. A coalition of armed groups, including Al Nusra and other groups, led this operation from Idlib to liberate Syria. Like many Syrians, Essa hesitated between accepting these new forces as liberators or invaders, unsure whether to view them as revolutionaries or mujahideen. She explains, "I remained silent as I watched my friends' overwhelming joy as each city was declared liberated. My fear got in the way of pure, unblemished pleasure, and I could not exchange it for pure, unblemished pleasure at all."

 

Torn between misinformation and partisanship, Essa sought to distance herself from the “ivory tower opinions,” intuitively searching for familiarity. "I left the social networks, the analysts, the intellectuals, and the sycophants from both sides. I returned to the streets of my coastal city, to the simple people whose features were eaten away by poverty and hunger,” she describes. She found the answer to her dilemma: “I spoke with everyone I met on my way. This included the service driver, the passenger next to me, the owners of shops and stalls, and the people I shared a waiting space with. I asked them about their opinions; I listened to their fears, apprehensions, and anxiety about their sons and soldiers. I felt again that everything in this country is more complicated than taking one side and just looking at it."

 

Fear took root in all aspects of her life, a controlling nightmare she could not wake from. She found herself paranoid over her past actions, terrified that someone would learn she once printed a document in the library that linked her to an opposition website and would report her to the government. In her fear, she began using two phones and always hid her laptop before leaving the house, regardless of how briefly. 

 

With the possibility of finally shedding this fear, Issa contemplates Syria’s future and potential for change from an intellectual angle, especially what freedom means. Since Syria has a long history of dictatorships, it isn't easy to believe and feel freedom. Issa is "unable to go out and fly in the sky of freedom” she visualized in her imagination. According to the Brazilian thinker Paulo Freire, one cannot authentically exist without freedom. At the same time, Issa explains that despite understanding this fact, it is natural to be afraid to kill the oppression within oneself and take steps to prove one’s existence.

 

To Issa, the detainees leaving Sednaya prison, in many ways, mirror the Syrians who now have left the prison of their homeland. That week, as she constantly replayed the footage from Sednaya, she explained that she “spent a whole week like an idiot, repeating the phrase ‘Assad has fallen,"’ joyfully singing from her balcony what the late Syrian actress Fadwa Suleiman sang: “Without Bashar, without Maher, and this stupid family, Syria wants freedom.”

 

Riham Essa reflects on some of the slogans raised during the post-Assad downfall, which include "who liberates decides," "the remnants of the old regime," and "legitimate civil state."  Despite the differences, ideological or otherwise, she suggests, "Perhaps the best door [forward], which is still open, is to transform every difference into a political, civil, and peaceful movement, into parties and intellectual movements, and to discuss, talk, and listen to each other... otherwise, there will be no real change."