In Syria, Not Everyone Is Charmed by Assad’s Heir

Late at night in a cramped apartment outside Damascus, a small group of Syrians discusses the death of Hafez Assad and the prospects for the country under the leadership of his son Bashar.

“We’re all upset that Hafez Assad died,” was the sarcastic comment of one intellectual. “We’re all upset that he wasn’t murdered.”

The thought is, of course, heresy, and it is impossible to know how widely such sentiments might be shared among the population of 17 million. The gap between private thoughts and public utterances in Syria is wide, and in a country that has one state-sanctioned ruling party and 12 overlapping intelligence services, it is dangerous to express dissatisfaction or dissent openly.

That is one reason why it’s certain that Bashar Assad will experience an overwhelming victory--something akin to the 99.9% wins his father used to rack up--when he is elected president of Syria on Monday in a yes-or-no plebiscite.

But just because people don’t express their thoughts freely doesn’t mean they’re content. In fact, a growing mood of frustration and hopelessness inside Syria could be one of the most important problems for the untested Assad when he formally assumes the post his father held for 30 years until his death last month.

On one hand, some of the brightest minds needed to resuscitate the Syrian economy are leaving, and on the other, a sullen, dissatisfied population could be the seed of popular unrest against what has become the Assad dynasty.

Assad’s march to power in Syria after the death of his father June 10 already has been treated as an accomplished fact by foreign leaders and media alike. Within hours of Hafez Assad’s death, the inner circle of the ruling Baath Party and the top military brass had rallied around the heir apparent, in effect ruling out any challenge for the leadership.

At the apartment outside the capital, a woman confronts a foreign journalist. Why, she asks, did Western television stations report on Assad’s death as though the Syrian people were truly sad? “Are they stupid, that they actually believe that?” she asked.

“The truest or most genuine thing that happened is that many, many people did not go for the funeral,” she asserted.

Nonetheless, for a country steeped in three decades of authoritarianism, it was easy and prudent for the population to fall into lock-step with the naming of Assad’s son as the new ruler. As if by reflex, pictures of Bashar Assad went up on streets, in places of business and even in people’s homes. The official message--that he offers continuity and change--was repeated everywhere, with no one publicly challenging the inherent contradiction.

The love fest proceeded to a parliamentary “debate” on the 34-year-old eye doctor last week that verged on the embarrassing: 200 of the 250 members of parliament rose to praise him in the most eloquent and poetic language they could muster. (The remaining 50 put their fawning comments into the written record.)

Lawmaker Nadia Hashem called him a “knight who will lead us from day to day.” Another lawmaker, Midhat Saleh, said that under Hafez Assad, Syria became “the envy of the world” and that the country was ready to march behind Bashar “with absolute loyalty and sincerity.” The vote to approve the candidacy was, predictably, unanimous.

But behind what one Syrian called “this masquerade,” a deep well of unhappiness persists in the Syrian population, especially among the young.

The ‘Lost Generation’ Expects Little to Change

Dissatisfaction can be gauged in many ways: jokes directed at the regime, the quick end to the mourning for Assad and the long lines of young Syrians seeking to live and work abroad.

According to several members of Syria’s “lost generation”--those who lived their entire lives under Hafez Assad’s ironfisted rule--they have little faith that his son will bring any real improvement to their lives.

“Most of my friends, 60% or so, are thinking of leaving the country, because to try to do a commercial project here is hopeless,” says a computer engineer. “Only someone close to the government can make profits, not normal people.”

The intellectual says he has little hope for Bashar Assad.

“No matter what he intends to implement, the only real change would be to change the whole [clique] that has been running the country, which is not possible,” he says. “They will not permit it.”

As he puts it, those who are in power do not want reform. And those who want reform have no power.

The young Assad has signaled that he will try to revitalize the socialist-based economy and resume a campaign that he had begun in order to root out corruption among top officials. Both goals are widely supported in Syria. But at least some young people believe that if he is to succeed, he will also have to move in the direction of political freedom.

“He is a good man, I think,” computer programmer Yanor Alzoni says. “But any president, if there is no pressure on him, will not do anything. The people must control.”

Whether or not they support Bashar Assad, at least “most people welcome the change,” says a Syrian businessman now living abroad.

“The situation inside Syria has been stagnating for 20 years or more,” he says. “Syrian society was at a standstill. . . . We could not go on with this stagnation and putrefaction.”

Some skeptics in Syria resent what they saw as a rush by the West to legitimize Bashar Assad, beginning at his father’s funeral, where President Jacques Chirac of France and U.S. Secretary of State Madeleine Albright had high-profile meetings with the heir.

Before the young Assad had any government office, U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan had paid him a visit in Damascus, the capital, as if he were already head of state. In what sounded like an endorsement, Annan afterward described Assad as “a son of his father and a modern man.”

The intellectual says he felt insulted by how quickly foreigners welcomed and embraced his country’s new strongman.

“There is a huge responsibility that must be borne by America for keeping these corrupt regimes in power all over the region,” he complained.

For years, Syrians had lived with the fear that the death of the elder Assad could mean civil war and bloodshed. But many had also become resigned to prolonged stagnation of their country as long as Assad was alive. Now their fear of instability is at odds with the desire for change.

Even people who didn’t consider themselves supporters of the regime say they found themselves feeling uneasy when Assad died.

“Personally, I was surprised at my reaction,” says Warka Barmada, the head of English studies at the University of Damascus.

“Apparently, the 30 years . . . did have a strong impact on people’s minds. . . . Seeing his picture on the walls all the time and listening to TV or the radio did have a strong effect on people in the sense that you have taken him as something fixed in your life.”

While the new president’s focus is sure to be on the economy, Assad is likely to be somewhat less harsh than his father in exerting political control, the businessman says. For instance, he suggests, Assad might allow more views to be expressed in the Baath Party and eventually permit some token opposition parties.

The businessman says he took it as a hopeful sign that Assad--at least according to one press report--had given a green light to a parliament member who had raised a legal question concerning the hastily passed constitutional amendment that allows him to be president despite being only 34. Previously, a president had to be at least 40.

Intervention by the Younger Assad

Parliament member Monzir Masely had initially been shouted down by horrified colleagues. But according to an account in Al Hayat newspaper, Assad sent word to the parliament to “let him speak and fully explain his point of view.” Despite that go-ahead, Masely later withdrew his remarks and apologized.

“It is disgusting,” the businessman says, referring to the deference being paid to Assad before he even assumes office.

“But you have to look beyond it,” he reflected. “At least this masquerade has been a guarantee that the transition will be smooth. . . . If Bashar Assad hopes to be the next Gorbachev, he had to go through the Brezhnev-era procedures first.”

The intellectual, however, says that he, for one, doesn’t wish to remain to see whether the young Assad will succeed.

“I want to emigrate and forget about Syria,” he says with disgust at the end of a two-hour conversation. “I want my son to live.”