Rebel rule in Idlib hints at what the rest of Syria can expect

The road to Idlib, a remote corner of northwest Syria, still bears the marks of the old front lines: trenches, abandoned military positions, rocket shells and ammunition.

Until just over a week ago, it was the only district in the country controlled by the opposition.

From Idlib, rebels led by the Islamist group Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, or HTS, launched a stunning offensive that toppled Bashar al-Assad and ended his family’s five-decade dictatorship in Syria.

As a result, they have become the de facto authorities of the country and seem to be trying to bring their way of governing to the rest of Syria.

In the center of Idlib city, opposition flags with a green stripe and three red stars flew high in public squares and were waved by men and women, old and young, since Assad was ousted. Graffiti on the walls glorified resistance to the regime.

While destroyed buildings and piles of rubble were reminders of the not-so-distant war, renovated houses, newly opened shops and well-maintained roads were proof that some things had indeed improved. But there were complaints about what was seen as rough management by the authorities.

When we visited earlier this week, streets were relatively clear, traffic lights and poles were working and officers were present in the busiest areas. Simple things that are missing in other parts of Syria and are a source of pride here.

HTS traces its origins to al-Qaeda, but in recent years has been actively trying to rebrand itself as a nationalist force away from its jihadist past and intent on removing Assad.

As the fighters marched on Damascus earlier this month, its leaders spoke of building a Syria for all Syrians. However, it is still described as a terrorist organization by the US, UK, UN and others, including Turkey, which supports some Syrian rebels.

The group took control of most of this region, home to 4.5 million people, in 2017, bringing stability after years of civil war.

The administration, known as the Government of Salvation, oversees water and electricity supply, garbage collection, and road surfacing.

Taxes collected from businesses, farmers and crossings with Turkey fund its public services – as well as its military operations.

“Under Assad, they said Idlib was the forgotten city,” said Dr. Hamza Almoraveh, a cardiologist, as he treated patients at a hospital housed in an old post office warehouse.

He moved from Aleppo with his wife in 2015 as the war there intensified, but had no plans to return even when the city was under rebel control.

“We’ve seen a lot of development here. Idlib has a lot of things that it didn’t have under the Assad regime.”

While toning down its tone, trying to gain international recognition amid domestic opposition, HTS has rolled back some of the strict social rules it imposed when it came to power, including a dress code for women and a ban on music in schools.

And some people cite recent protests, including against government-imposed taxes, as evidence that a certain level of criticism is tolerated, unlike Assad’s crackdown.

“It’s not full democracy, but there is freedom,” said Fouad Sayedissa, an activist.

“In the beginning there were some problems, but in recent years they are doing better and trying to change.”

Originally from Idlib, Sayedisa now lives in Turkey, where she runs the NGO Violet. Like thousands of Syrians, Assad’s fall meant he could visit his city again – in his case, for the first time in a decade.

But there have also been demonstrations against what some say is authoritarian rule. To consolidate power, experts say, the group targeted extremists, absorbed rivals and jailed opponents.

“How the government will act across Syria is a different story,” Sayedisa said. Syria is a diverse country, and after decades of oppression and violence perpetrated by the regime and its allies, many are hungry for justice. “People are still celebrating, but they’re also worried about the future.

We tried to interview a local official but were told that they had all gone to Damascus to help with the new government.

An hour’s drive from Idlib, in the small Christian village of Kuniya, church bells tolled for the first time in a decade on December 8 to celebrate Assad’s removal.

The municipality, near the Turkish border, was bombed during the civil war that began in 2011 when Assad cracked down on peaceful protests against him and many of its residents fled.

Only 250 people left.

“Syria is better since Assad fell,” said monk Fadi Azar.

But the rise of the Islamists has raised concerns that minorities, including Assad’s Alawites, could be at risk, despite reports from HTS assuring religious and ethnic groups that they would be protected.

“In the last two years, they (HTS) have started to change… It used to be very difficult,” Monk Azar said.

Property was confiscated and religious practices were restricted.

“They gave (our community) more freedom, they called other Christians who were refugees to come back to take back their land and their homes.

But is the change real? Can they be trusted? “What can we do? We have no other option,” he said. “We believe them.”

I asked Sayedisa, the activist, why even opponents are reluctant to criticize the group.

“They are the heroes now … (But) we have red lines. We will not allow dictators again, Jolani or anyone else,” he said, referring to Ahmed al-Shara, the HTS leader who gave up his fighting name Abu Mohammad al-Jolani after coming to power.

“If they act like dictators, people are ready to say no, because now they have their freedom.