In Old Damascus’s Al Ameen Street, where centuries of coexistence echo through narrow lanes, the Shiite community has gathered to mark Ashura.
But instead of the defiant roar of public mourning, what unfolded was a ceremony subdued by caution and a visible security presence.
Across Syria, the atmosphere has shifted since the fall of the Assad regime and the rise of a new administration led by Hayat Tahrir Al Sham, a former Al Qaeda affiliate. Minority communities fear potential reprisals, even as authorities insist religious freedom will be respected and public order maintained.
At the Zahraa Complex, typically bustling during Ashura, entry was tightly controlled by HTS, a Sunni militant group slowly transforming into an army. Worshippers, including children, were patted down. Armed guards stood at every corner, their presence both reassuring and a reminder of Syria’s lingering fragility.
Abu Idriss, head of General Security for Old Damascus, told The National of "co-ordination" with the area's Shiites. “Our role is to protect this area from the inside and out. After what happened in Dweila, we had to heighten our presence. No room for risks.”
He was referring to a suicide bombing at a church in Dweila last month, which killed more than two dozen people during Sunday prayers. The attack shook the capital’s already delicate sectarian balance. In response, authorities increased security at all major religious events.
“We needed to be here in force to ward off any potential troublemakers,” Mr Idriss said. “Security isn’t fully heightened because we didn’t want to create a spectacle. Today is one of the final days and the Ashura activities are taking place – just in a way that avoids provocation from both sides.”
Secure, but subdued
But Ashura was not just secure – it was subdued.
“We were told no public banners, no chanting, no handing out water or sweets to people in the street,” said Ali, 32, a volunteer. “It’s not like before. This is the first time I’ve seen so many rules around what we can and can’t do. But the key point is that it went ahead and there were no issues.”
Normally, Al Ameen Street would be draped in black flags to honour Imam Hussein, the grandson of the Prophet Mohammed. Loudspeakers would fill the air with sermons, and processions would offer drinks and food to passers-by. This year, those rituals were largely absent.
Inside the Zahraa Complex, the core of Ashura endured, though marked by restraint. Hundreds sat quietly in the gathering halls, listening to sermons and recitals. Mourning remained, but it was private. Grief, too, was present but carefully contained.
“We feared something could happen,” Ali said. “You never know – there are former HTS fighters, rogue elements, people who don’t tolerate [Shiite] traditions. That’s why we needed the state to be out in force.”
Elsewhere, Syria’s Shiites, who make up less than 1 per cent of the population, were permitted to hold ceremonies but under strict conditions.
Without incident
In Sayyidah Zaynab near Damascus, long considered the spiritual hub of Syrian Shiites, major gatherings were scaled back. For many, the most noticeable change was the absence of Hezbollah and Iran’s influence.
Dr Muhammad Nizam, an academic and religious speaker who led one of the sermons, said efforts had been made to avoid inflaming tension.
“Ashura is for all Muslims,” he said. “There are those who want to portray the government as hostile to religious minorities, but what I’ve seen is the opposite — the authorities worked with us at the highest levels to ensure this could happen safely. Still, we agreed to limit certain things this year.”
Those “certain things” included the more visible and emotive aspects of Ashura: chest-beating rituals, chants of “Ya Hussein” and public re-enactments of the Battle of Karbala. For some, these omissions were painful. For others, they were necessary compromises to preserve the event at all.
Haj Riyad Nizam, a community elder and mediator, reflected on the occasion with quiet pride. “No one expected Ashura to take place at all this year,” he told The National. “But it did and without incident. That is a victory – not just for us [Shiites], but for Syria."
In a year marked by heightened tension and the return of sectarian fears, the absence of violence was itself a statement. The successful, if restrained, observance of Ashura offered a flicker of stability and signalled the state’s intent to maintain control while managing the expectations of its minority communities.
Still, for many, the question lingers: can Syria’s religious diversity survive under such rigid terms? Or is this the beginning of a quieter, more cautious chapter in the country’s sectarian identity?
On the final day of Ashura, Ali looked over the crowd and paused. “It’s not like before,” he said. “But at least it’s still here.”
