- 11
- Mar
- 2025
Understanding what is truly happening in the Alawite regions of Syria is almost impossible. Despite countless attempts to extract information, testimonies, or any clear statements, it proves futile. Responses are met with polite refusals, often coupled with subtle hints about the looming threat of “sanctions.” From one person to another, regardless of their political or sectarian affiliation, the response is always the same: abdication and reticence. The silences and hesitations hint at the scale of the situation, but mere speculation is not enough.
Finally, my phone rings. From the depths of the device come harsh, lifeless words—like the bodies piled in the morgues of Jableh, choking the air on the roads of Latakia, or swallowed by yawning pits.
Barely are these words spoken, barely written, when a distant, frantic finger on the other end of the line, in Syria, erases them.
I struggle to grasp the fleeting information. I struggle…simply. A quiet, gnawing, torturous pain, because once again, death relentlessly claims, or rather seizes, the souls of the “infidels”! Infidels to the regime in power. Infidels to one version of Islam over another. Infidels to a bloodthirsty God. “Infidels to anything at all!”
A Macabre Context
The violence erupted on March 6, when supporters of Bashar al-Assad’s fallen regime launched a savage attack on security forces in the coastal region of Latakia, where the Alawite community, to which the Assad family belongs, is concentrated.
These attacks mark the most violent outbreak since the Islamist-led coalition took power on December 8.
Conversations from the Grave
It’s 3:23 AM. Dawn is about to break. He continues to send me Facebook links that “document” the massacres committed against Syria’s Alawites.
After many refusals, hesitations, and delays—due to poor internet connections, power cuts leaving his phone battery dead, and, above all, the primal fear of horrific atrocities—he clings to my phone number as his last hope. “Thank you, thank you for sharing our tragedy, our voice, with the outside world!” he writes.
Through a message, I realize he’s a doctor. His WhatsApp profile reveals this: it’s Ali… He, who initially hesitated to speak, now pours out his heart for an hour, two hours, alternating between written messages, voice notes, disturbing images, and Facebook links to activists.
He insists I promise repeatedly not to reveal his identity, which he never shares, out of fear of “deadly revenge”: kidnapping, death… “They check our phones! What’s happening is beyond belief. We’re in a state of shock. Innocent people are being killed. Civilians of all ages… We’ve lost many loved ones, many friends… It’s pure horror in Jableh, in Banias… and the surrounding villages.”
Destruction, Fires, Killings, and Fleeing Civilians
“Homes have been destroyed, fires set, people massacred, and civilians are fleeing… These areas were attacked while supporters of the old regime were being pursued. People are being executed point-blank. They are being exterminated on a sectarian basis.” And he adds “Alawites” in parentheses. I look at the word, caught between these typographical “clamps”, and I realize: this perfectly captures a community trapped in the merciless grip of blind death.
He repeats over and over, “The victims are civilians—children, women, and the elderly.” He argues, “The soldiers who were part of the former regime’s army were given a “taswiyeh,” a “settlement of their status,” and they handed over their weapons to the new regime. As for the so-called “supporters of the regime,” we don’t even know if they were truly apprehended by the authorities.
On an even more bitter note, he writes, “We, the Alawites, are the most wretched people. We’ve paid a steep price because Bashar (al-Assad) was Alawite, even though he was close to others, but not at all to us!”
“One thing is certain: those being hunted and killed are mostly civilians. Entire villages, entire families are being exterminated… We, the Alawite civilians, are powerless and defenseless. We have no way to protect ourselves. We are unarmed. This is genocide.”
What about the Number of Victims?
“Until now, the numbers are still uncertain. The bodies haven’t been recovered yet. But in just two days, we were talking about 2,000 people killed, far more than the official numbers acknowledge. The toll has certainly risen by now. The morgues are overflowing with bodies.”
And those who managed to flee?
“Those who could escape took refuge at the Hmaymim base, hoping for protection from the Russians. Others fled to safer cities or, in desperation, to the countryside, hiding in nature.”
“The Operation Is Not Over”
Ali insists, “The operation continues,” contradicting the official narrative. “I just received reports that the killings are still happening in the village of al-Rahibiyeh, in Jableh.” He adds that hospitals in Jableh, Latakia, and Tartous are not operational since many are “besieged.”
“Please, please, plead our cause. Please, protect us!” he writes in Arabic. I can almost hear his desperate cry!!! I thought he had ended the conversation, but no... he begged me once again to expose “everything they’re trying to hide, to twist, to distort. Our streets are running with blood…!”
The internet connection stutters.
He writes to me once more: “Our streets are in ashes! Why?! We've always lived in harmony and peace with our Christian and Sunni neighbors and friends. We’ve had meals of ‘mjaddara’ (lentils) together.”
A crying emoji, tears streaming down. More photos follow.
Then, a final message: “We are waiting our turn in the corridor of death...”
The call ends!
An overwhelming sense of bitterness grips me.
A haunting sense of déjà vu... just like in Lebanon!
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