The long path to recovery in northeastern Syria

To cross the Tigris river from Iraqi Kurdistan into northeastern Syria is to journey between two different worlds. Over centuries, this has often been the way for this great river: the boundary between rival empires and a contested waterway that remains the key to life for millions. 

The rickety pontoon bridge gives an inkling of what is to come as you leave behind the largely well-developed and functioning Kurdistan Regional Government for an area of Syria that is isolated, vulnerable and economically destitute. The road up from the river is near-impassable, scarred with massive potholes. 

The Kurdish-dominated area of northern Syria, which many Kurds prefer to call Rojava, is surrounded by what they perceive to be rivals and enemies. The Turkish border is walled off or lined with barbed wire. 

In every meeting I attended, my interlocutors broached the impacts of the sectarian violence carried out in Syria’s coastal regions in March. The underlying but unexpressed fear was clear: we could be next. 

Representatives from Arab, Christian, Armenian, Alawi, Yazidi and Kurdish communities made this point routinely. Few expressed much trust in the platitudes of the new authorities in Damascus. 

The most overwhelming sense was of a region that has been obliterated economically. Although reports of smuggling networks abounded, most shops were shuttered. Everyone relied on primitive generators for electricity. Occasionally, a lucky few had access to solar power. 

At night, few lights could be seen on the streets. The area also suffered from a lack of water. Once the breadbasket of Syria, having replaced the Hawran in the south from the 1950s, the flat, fertile lands were now largely untilled.

Crippling sanctions

Myriad reasons were given for this dismal situation: war, Turkish incursions and the fight against the Islamic State (IS) group. The Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF) are also not innocent. Human rights groups have highlighted significant issues with detaining political activists and the recruitment of child soldiers, some as young as 12, by groups associated with the SDF.

Qamishli and Hasakah were on the front lines of that struggle. IS remains a threat to this day, claiming around 300 attacks last year – more than double the previous year’s figure.  

US and European sanctions have also contributed to crippling the Syrian economy. Nobody will invest until American sanctions are eased.

Oil fires blazed where the population was forced to use crude methods to extract resources. You can smell it in the air everywhere. One can only imagine the health impacts and environmental damage.  

What is needed now is an easing of sanctions to provide a tangible political and economic horizon

On a humanitarian level, many people complained to me that international aid had dried up, as NGOs had shifted their focus to Damascus. The needs are great. Overall, half the Syrian population is still food insecure.

Throughout this area in the north, there are camps for both refugees and internally displaced people. Many have fled recently after the fall of former Syrian President Bashar al-Assad’s regime and Turkish attacks. 

The presence of external actors is extraordinary. We passed the Russian base at Qamishli airport, and then soon after,  we passed an American base. Russian military patrols still go down the main highway. Where else can you find Russian and American forces deployed so close together?

The US has announced it is reducing its force deployment in Syria, closing three of its eight bases in the northeast. Yet, their presence is seen by many as crucial to the anti-IS coalition, with around 10,000 of the group’s fighters still detained in northeastern Syria.  

The sheer presence of American forces acts as a deterrent to IS, who are looking for any opportunity to rise again, but also acts as a buffer to keep Turkish-backed forces and Kurdish groups from fighting. But eventually, Syrians will want to see all foreign forces out of the country. 

Hopeful sign

During my visit to the region, the upbeat assessment was that a ceasefire with Turkey had been holding for more than three weeks. The drone attacks had stopped. The Euphrates now forms the de facto border between areas controlled by the SDF and those controlled by Turkish-backed forces. 

The deal signed in March between Damascus and the SDF was also a hopeful sign. The Kurdish National Council and other parties have been working towards building on this deal, but significant divisions remain.

SDF leader Mazloum Abdi, a key partner for the US in its fight against IS, told me that recent meetings with authorities in Damascus had gone well, as American helicopters hovered nearby in what looked like training exercises. 

Abdi was also upbeat about progress with Turkey, which itself views the SDF as a terrorist organisation and an extension of the proscribed Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK). While he described the Turkish threat as an “existential challenge”, Abdi appeared grimly determined to make headway with both Damascus and Ankara.

His optimism might not be totally misplaced. PKK leader Abdullah Ocalan, the political and spiritual leader for many of Syria’s Kurds, called on the group to disarm in February. 

This represents an opportunity to end the conflict inside Turkey that has killed 40,000 people over 40 years. It would also have major implications for both Syrian and Iraqi Kurds. A genuine peace would reassure the Turkish leadership.

Ending the fighting in northern Syria would enhance the country’s prospects for long-term stability. This should matter to all international actors, from the Middle East to Europe. 

What is needed now is an easing of sanctions to provide a tangible political and economic horizon. In the rosiest scenario, this would deal a huge blow to extremist groups such as IS and give confidence to Syrians looking to return to their beloved homeland. 

This is a long road with plenty of potholes, but it is definitely worth the journey.

The views expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial policy of Middle East Eye.