In Syria, Christians, lost between fear, distrust and desire to start

In his two-room apartment in the Kachkoul district, in the southern suburbs of Damascus, Siham Abdelki is preparing to eat in the light of a neon. This apartment, she and her husband built her with their own hands. Daughter of a survivor of the Armenian genocide, she has always lived in this modest and interreligious district. “My beloved Syria, I can never leave it,” she says, smiling. His granddaughter Antoinette agrees: “I want to stay, help rebuild my country. »»

At 20, the civil engineering student keeps faith in the future. At the University of Deraa, in the south of the country, she assures that “there is no problem for living together”. In his eyes, the suicide attack which targeted the Saint-Elie church in Damascus on June 22, 2025, and killed at least 22 people by injuring 63 others (1), remains an isolated act. His neighbor, who came to visit the family, does not share this opinion. “The abuses against minorities are constantly repeating themselves,” he says. Antoinette admits that she and her friends no longer go out in bars and prefer to spend their evenings at home.

Since the fall of Bashar El Assad, on December 8, 2024, and the coming to power of Ahmed Al Charaa, Syrian Christians fear marginalization. Formerly affiliated with Al-Qaida, the new president broke up with the organization in 2016, but the distrust remains. His decision to disarm all non -governmental forces had been very badly welcomed. Since the attack, weapons have been more visible in the ranks of Christian self -defense groups. The attack confirmed the fears of those who feared that their turn came, after the massacres of Alawites in March, then the abuses against the Druze in April. Violence attributed, depending on the case, to groups linked to power or radical Sunni factions.

While some young people dream of reconstruction, others, disillusioned, no longer imagine on the spot. Nour (2), mother of three, is one of them. Former civil servant at the rectorate of Damascus, she and her husband lost their jobs when the regime falls. “When I went to ask for explanations of the Prime Minister’s office, I was told that it was the law, before wondering:” And you, what have you brought to the revolution? ” The question summarizes the discomfort of a community perceived in public opinion as close to the old power, who presented himself as a defender of minorities. The deacon Athanasios Bitar does not want to hear about this debate. According to him, these criticisms are made by people close to the regime “seeking to gain influence by discrediting the church”.

“Disconnected” leaders

In the aftermath of the attack, at the end of a prayer for the victims, animated debates took place between faithful and ecclesiastics. Some have criticized religious officials for remaining deaf to their security concerns. Youssef Brahim is one of the leaders of the Antioch eagles, a group of self -defense bringing together armed Christians, created after the fall of the Assad regime. Tattoo of Christ on the arm, pistol on his belt, he proudly shows a video shot in the church of Zeitouna, in the heart of the old town. We see him arresting a bishop: “The religious must be alongside those who protect the churches. »Would wish him that Christians will be integrated into the official security forces.

Despite his commitment, Youssef dreams of leaving the country. “There is no money here, no future. Those who have the means have already left. »At the headquarters of the Greek Orthodox patriarchy, Athanasios Bitar recognizes that anxiety is gaining ground. But he wants to believe in the reassuring presence of the Church. “We are not afraid,” he says. He also welcomes the firmness speech delivered by Patriarch John X against the government during the funeral of the victims of Saint-Elie.

Words that do not convince Madiha Neema, a fervent faithful of the southern suburbs of Damascus. “Religious leaders are completely disconnected,” she judges. In her small apartment, on the top floor of a building whose steps she struggles, the icons are everywhere. If she chose to stay in Syria, she refuses to recognize the new power. “For me, Ahmed Al Charaa is not legitimate. He was not elected. Under Bashar, I fought for my rights and I will continue. As for Hind Kabawat, the only Christian minister in place, she is only a “statue to reassure the international”.

The habit of silence

But for Youssef Brahim, the active member of the Eagles of Antioch, the fracture goes beyond politics. “The Christians of the old town are protected by the government, when we, the most modest, must defend ourselves alone,” he regrets.

In Bab Touma, a historic Christian district of the heart of Damascus, the entrances are kept by general security. Ghassan Wahde, weaver, displays his optimism: “In the evening, I drink my beers in front of my shop, I have never had any problems. Before, the future was dark. Today, there is hope. His neighbor Dani sells icons and rosaries in the family shop opened 43 years ago. If he has heard of incidents related to the wearing of shorts or young people walking together, he prefers to believe in better days. “Christians are used to being silent, we have no one to protect ourselves,” he said. For him, the tranquility of Bab Touma owes a lot to the Christian religious seats that it welcomes and which motivates the presence of general security, “almost absent from other Christian districts”.

Do you have to leave to live safely, or stay to save what can still be? The faithful of Damascus do not all have the same answer but all want to make their voices heard. In the aftermath of the attack, a procession starting from the Saint-Elie church paraded in the streets of Bab Touma, a very obvious cross at the front of the procession. A way to prove that Christians are still there.

(1) claimed by a little -known Sunni extremist group.

(2) The first name has been changed.