My Identity Is Resistance: A Syrian-Palestinian Woman on Why Liberation Requires Unity
Syria is where my young father and his family sought refuge after their exile from Palestine during the Nakba in 1948. A significant number of the 750,000 Palestinians forcibly displaced by Israeli forces settled in Syria, where locals welcomed them with open homes, businesses, schools, and civil services.
After arriving from Haifa, my father pursued his education in Damascus while working full-time in a glass factory. He later enrolled in Damascus University’s Faculty of Law, where he and other Palestinian students founded Children of Palestine, a social activist group advocating for Palestinian refugee rights. One of their demands was the inclusion of Palestinians in the Syrian army to acquire critical military skills for defense against Israeli aggression. Though their efforts succeeded, they ultimately bore little fruit on the battlefield.
Historically, Syria treated Palestinian refugees with relative inclusivity, granting them considerable rights compared to many neighboring Arab countries. While not given full citizenship, Palestinians in Syria could live, work, and own property with minimal restrictions. They attended public schools and universities, worked in various professions, joined labor unions, and were issued “Syrian travel documents” to facilitate mobility—privileges unavailable to many Palestinians in the region.
Syria suffered at Israel’s hands, too. In 1967, during the Six-Day War, Israel occupied the Golan Heights in southwest Syria. Despite international recognition of the occupation’s illegality, Israel annexed the territory in 1981 and continues to encroach on Syrian land. Syrians and Palestinians, historically united through shared culture, language, and empathy for each other’s suffering, were bound even more tightly by these tragedies. Yet, not all Palestinians understood just how deeply Syrians felt their pain.
My mother is Syrian—my parents met in Damascus—and I have cherished memories of spending my summers there with family enjoying culinary delicacies, ancient ruins, gorgeous courtyards and meanderings through souqs. Yet, my affection for Syria’s people never extended to the brutal regime controlling it. The Assad regime, with its Nazi-trained police state, was infamous for its indiscriminate and ruthless suppression of dissent. Political opinions were so dangerous that Syrians would gesture to walls and their ears rather than speak of them.
A decade after Hafez al-Assad seized power, Syrians began leaving in greater numbers. The 1982 Hama massacre, in which thousands were slaughtered by the regime, forced many to flee. Those who stayed behind lived in silence, knowing the regime could harm their families at will. Fear and silence became ingrained in the Syrian psyche, enabling the regime to conceal its crimes while projecting an image of anti-imperialist resistance and Palestinian solidarity.
The reality, however, was more complex. The Assad regime positioned itself as the backbone of the “axis of resistance” bloc, including Iran and Hezbollah. Yet, since 1973, it has maintained a quiet border with Occupied Palestine while justifying internal repression as necessary for “the cause.” Protests against Israel were permitted, but independent activism was harshly suppressed. Thousands of Palestinians, including leaders of liberation movements, were imprisoned, tortured, or killed by the regime. One of its most notorious intelligence branches was ominously named the “Palestine Branch.”
Some cling to the belief that Assad’s opposition to Israel makes him a hero.
In 2011, the Syrian Uprising-turned-Civil War revealed the regime’s true nature. When teenage boys were tortured for spray-painting “It’s your turn, doctor,” a reference to the Arab Spring, peaceful protests demanding democracy erupted. The regime responded with unrestrained brutality: live ammunition, snipers, tanks, barrel bombs, and missiles. Millions fled; hundreds of thousands were killed, and countless others disappeared. Palestinians in Syria suffered alongside Syrians—over 3,000 killed, including many during the siege and starvation of Yarmouk refugee camp.
The war also strained Palestinian perspectives on Assad. The regime accused protestors of being foreign infiltrators and Zionist agents, while coercing Palestinians to support its fight against the alleged “Zionist threat.” The resulting chaos devastated the Palestinian community in Syria, leading some to lament the uprising. “It wasn’t so bad under Assad,” they said. But it was.
As Syria’s hidden dungeons are exposed, the horrors—kidnapping, torture, rape, starvation, and execution—become undeniable. Yet, some cling to the belief that Assad’s opposition to Israel makes him a hero. This belief ignores the inherent contradiction: Can one claim to resist oppression while perpetuating it? True resistance demands solidarity with all the oppressed, not selective outrage.
The resulting chaos devastated the Palestinian community in Syria, leading some to lament the uprising. ‘It wasn’t so bad under Assad,’ they said. But it was.
After 14 months of genocide and 76 years of occupation, there is a temptation to view Assad as a fallen hero rather than a like-minded oppressor. But, Syrians and Palestinians share wounds inflicted by tyranny, and it matters little who the perpetrator is. Syrians and Palestinians share a common struggle, bound not by the identity of their oppressors but by the imperative to resist all forms of injustice. Hamas, the Palestinian political faction in charge of Gaza, recognized this when it recently congratulated the Syrian people for achieving their “aspirations for freedom and justice.”
Palestine has drawn global grassroots support because it resonates with the universal longing for justice and offers a sense of belonging to all who suffer and resist oppression. This includes Syrians who have fought long and painfully for their freedom.
Their quest may not yet be over. It will take time before we can adequately assess whether Syria’s new leadership will truly lead the country through a free, compassionate and unified recovery, but we must center Syrians’ hopes that they will do so. And, if they don’t, we must remember the values we stand for and support Syrians in any renewed struggles for liberty.
My commitment to justice, freedom, and dignity for both Palestinians and Syrians remains unified and uncompromised.
This is not just naïve thinking or a dismissal of the realities of our current geopolitical world order; rather, I am advocating for people to exit a paradigm that has plagued the disparate international struggles for decades – pitting liberatory movements against one another to weaken and fracture the power of solidarity. The “us” and “them” binary should be mirrored in the “oppressed” vs. “oppressor” dynamic—not between the oppressed.
I believe most people within the movement understand the inextricable link between the struggles of the oppressed—at least, that has been my experience so far. True liberation cannot be sacrificed for political posturing. Thankfully, this understanding reassures me that my commitment to justice, freedom, and dignity for both Palestinians and Syrians remains unified and uncompromised.
For those who feel otherwise, my message is this:
The Palestinian liberation movement stands firmly against injustice, subjugation, and inhumanity—all of which are embodied by Syria’s Assad and Israel’s Netanyahu. Syrians and Palestinians share a common struggle, and we must never forget our unity in that fight.
Layla Maghribi is a UK-based journalist, writer and host of the podcast “Third Culture Therapy.”
