With its chic galleries, dimly lit bars and smoky cafés, Damascus' cultural scene has long been a bastion of liberalism in Syrian society. The regime’s fall has brought an end to its censorship. But how long will this newfound freedom last?

Marwan Tayara prefers to stay out of the spotlight. For him, it’s never been about personal recognition – it’s about the art. But as the manager of the Madad cultural center in Damascus, the trained lighting technician has reason to worry. On New Year’s Eve, armed men stormed the historic stone building.

«They told me I had one day to pack up and leave,» says the 57-year-old. But the fighters underestimated Tayara’s resolve. He rallied support from his friends in the art community, who took the matter to the authorities. Within days, the issue was resolved, and the fighters retreated under orders from Syria’s new government.

The incident sent ripples through Damascus’ cultural elite. A few days later, Tayara could be found on the sidelines of a solidarity event at Zawaya, a chic gallery in the heart of the Syrian capital. Surrounded by women in boots puffing on cigarettes and men draped in silk scarves, he shared what little he knew. «I still don’t know exactly who they were,» he says. «They probably just wanted to take over the house.»

A fragile sense of normalcy returns to Damascus

It has been nearly five weeks since Islamist fighters from the rebel militia Hayat Tahrir al-Sham forced the despised dictator Bashar Assad from power. The brutal regime’s collapse was met with nationwide celebrations, marked by gunfire and dancing in the streets. But the initial euphoria has since faded, giving way to a semblance of normalcy in some parts of Syria.

At the border with Lebanon, customs posts that were abandoned in December are now staffed again, and passports are being scrutinized with newfound diligence. Journalists can only enter the country with official permission. In Damascus, the sound of gunfire has been replaced by silence. The once-ubiquitous Islamist fighters have vanished from the streets.

For many liberal Damascenes, mistrust of the new rulers runs deep. Within the city’s cultural circles, there is growing unease that the conciliatory rhetoric of the new strongman, Ahmed al-Sharaa, is little more than a facade. Many fear that it is only a matter of time before the Islamists reveal their true intentions and clamp down on the freedoms they have recently gained.

Time and again, members of the new government have done little to ease these fears. In Idlib, for example, the justice minister reportedly oversaw the execution of a woman personally. The newly appointed head women’s affairs sparked controversy after she made disparaging remarks about women during an interview with Turkish media. A proposed school curriculum emphasizing Islamic history has also drawn criticism.

«As a woman, I am particularly vulnerable»

The curriculum proposal was particularly alarming, says Tamara Abou Alwan, a young artist sitting in a street cafe in Damascus. «After years of indoctrination under Assad, we can’t allow our children to be subjected to the same thing again,» she says. A dancer, actress and painter, Alwan remains skeptical of assurances from authorities that the curriculum was only a draft and is now being revised.

«As a woman and as a member of a minority, I am particularly vulnerable,» says the 26-year-old member of the Druze community. Currently, she is working on a mural in the heart of Damascus, depicting the heroes of the 2011 Syrian uprising. Among them is the boy from Daraa who sprayed anti-Assad graffiti, alongside Abdul al-Sarut, a slain revolutionary fighter and singer revered as a bard of the revolution – despite his Islamist leanings.

Having spent years in Beirut, she is torn between joy over the regime’s fall and anxiety over what comes next. Many artists in Damascus share this sentiment. «Under Assad, murals were strictly forbidden,» Alwan recalls. All of her plays were censored. «We constantly lived in fear of being thrown in prison.»

Reveling in their newfound freedom, the city’s artists can now talk openly. They can be found in smoky bars like the Sugarman, where Assad’s downfall was celebrated with songs and whiskey shots, or at Café Mazbout, where sunlight streams through high windows onto dark wooden tables. At one such table, 70-year-old sculptor Mustafa Ali gathers with friends around a crowded ashtray to debate the state of the nation.

The cities are liberal, the villages conservative

The renowned sculptor Mustafa Ali, with his signature beard, beret and cheroot, never left Damascus during the war. Many of his friends left. Now, he says, they are starting to return. Among them is Bashar Rachmani, an art critic who has returned to Syria for the first time in 42 years after living in exile in Paris. «It’s overwhelming,» Rachmani says. «But we have no idea what lies ahead.»

The art scene in Damascus has endured hard times. The Syrian capital was once considered one of the most vibrant artistic hubs in the Middle East. This changed when Bashar Assad’s father, Hafez Assad, came to power in 1970, prompting many intellectuals to flee. The brutality of the regime’s response to the 2011 uprising forced another wave of artists into exile.

For Tamara Abou Alwan, the young painter, giving up now is not an option. She intentionally uses bright, vivid colors in her murals. «The art here has often been dark and depressing recently,» she says. «I want to change that.» Others, however, worry that the new rulers may stifle their creative work. «As a sculptor, I’m particularly concerned,» says Ali. «Islamists usually despise figurative art.»

Indeed, the artists of Damascus remain a vulnerable minority. Despite the city’s cultural legacy, most of Syrian society – especially in rural areas – leans conservative. «Cities in Syria are liberal, but in the villages, people are traditional,» says Alwan. Given the crushing poverty and suffering wrought by the war, this is understandable. «They put their faith in God,» she adds.

«Damascus will never fall»

At the Zawaya Gallery, opinions are divided on how to engage with the new government. Throughout the evening, artists share their perspectives. Some argue that now is the time to take a stand and speak out. Others suggest inviting representatives of the new regime for dialogue. But as of now, Syria doesn’t even have a minister of culture.

Marwan Tayara, however, does not want to face intimidation. Holding a Russian passport, he has the option to leave Syria «But this is my country and I love it.» Comparing the world to a living body, he describes Damascus as one of its beating hearts. «Damascus will never fall,» he declares. «Even Timur, the great Mongol conqueror, couldn’t bring this city to its knees.»

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=5664851&forum_id=2...id.#48559830)