Like many other Syrians, I have followed on social media the wave of violence against Syrians in Turkey. The events started in the city of Kayseri and spread to Gaziantep, Istanbul, Antalya, and Konya. We saw scenes of young men and families collectively attacking homes inhabited by Syrians, smashing their shops, and burning their cars.

The attacks were not limited to property; videos began to surface showing assaults on Syrians inside their homes and on the streets. Hundreds shared this content on social media to convey the picture and spread the story—the silent life and death of Syrians.

The Violence That Takes Over One’s Memory

Over the years, I have realized the psychological impact of violent images on me. These scenes, with all their colors and details, imprint themselves deeply in my mind, reappearing with the same precision and hues long after I have seen them. The images remain fresh in my memory, capable of recharging my sense of shock.

I understood the impact of violent images and knew I had to avoid them. This avoidance might be perceived as insensitivity towards these issues, but on social media, you are compelled to confront this content.

Seeing images of violence and assault deeply imprinted in memory also means that contrasting images—those carrying a sense of dignity and justice—are absent. These are the images that restore some balance and reassurance to fearful souls.

The Absence of Contrasting Images

It might be romantic for us refugees to dream of a place free from racism and discrimination. Instead, we find ourselves negotiating acceptance of mild to moderate levels of it, accepting certain degrees of discrimination in our new societies and adapting to them. We talk about them in an attempt to change them in countries we assume are better than our homeland, where we fully understood the meaning of silent living.

In Turkey, incidents of violence against foreigners and refugees occasionally occur, and the political climate helps normalize them. It reached the point where it was used in election campaigns, becoming a headline for the People’s Party and the Good Party during the last elections: “The Syrians will leave.” Thus, the images of calls for the deportation of Syrians passed without opposing images.

The absence of images countering violence affects us Syrians and Turks daily. It reflects in the Syrian consciousness as a fear due to the lack of justice and accountability, pushing Syrians into further silence as the voice of racism rises to a level that threatens life. Refugees are left with two choices: live silently or leave silently.

The lack of images opposing violence gives some citizens a sense of empowerment over the lives of the weaker, fostering their sense of entitlement to use new weapons of anger and betrayal.

This sense of power reached a point where a group of young men formed a closed group on social media, leaking the data of more than two million Syrians in preparation for targeting their presence.

The Turkish government showed a form of accountability, announcing the arrest of 470 young men who participated in the vandalism and stopping the 14-year-old responsible for the page that published the data.

President Recep Tayyip Erdogan also commented on the violence, describing it as “unacceptable” and blaming the opposition for the prevalent hate speech. These moves came only in the form of news and positions, leaving the image of justice and dignity restoration absent.

“Silent Living” and the Desire to Disappear

Away from social media, I live, like other Syrians, with generalized anxiety in our daily lives. The recurring question in Syrian gatherings is: Where do we go? What are the alternative plans? Brainstorming sessions discuss other survival possibilities.

Yesterday, my friend, who owns a car with an M license plate—a form of discrimination in traffic laws where non-Turkish cars are given an M plate meaning “Traveler”—said she feels afraid to drive at night. She is considering selling the car and paying a smuggler to help her reach Europe.

Meanwhile, my friend with Turkish citizenship is trying to find a job in the Gulf, adding that his son doesn’t want to go to school, fearing he might become a target of violence by Turkish youths.

Another friend, a mother of a three-year-old, feels embarrassed when her child speaks to her in Arabic on the metro. She says, “I ignore his words and look at him silently to make him stop talking.”

Regarding public transportation, another friend says, “I don’t feel comfortable showing anything in Arabic on the Metrobus. I used to enjoy reading books during the commute, but now I’m afraid to open a book in Arabic to avoid any comments that could escalate into an argument I can’t defend myself against.”

A relative tells me that his landlord demanded a 100% increase in rent, an unjustified hike according to the official rate set by the state. However, he can’t object and can only accept silently, leaning towards the idea of returning to Syria.

“Without a Voice”

A virtual campaign among Syrian activists titled “ses yok” (without a voice) was launched. This phrase spread after the earthquake that struck Turkey and Syria in February 2023. It was written on destroyed buildings to indicate no life under the rubble. Reusing this phrase perhaps signifies their stifled voices amidst the ongoing assaults.

Syrian refugees are giving up their spaces in life, abandoning their parking spots, seats on public transport and in parks, their turns in supermarkets.

They give up their right to speak their language, avoid public places to not be the cause of overcrowding, avoid mixing and interacting with Turks to prevent conflicts, feel embarrassed to reveal their origins, and carry their nationality as a scar they try to hide and disappear with.

Fear and Collective Punishment

Psychology talks about a form of collective trauma resulting from painful and catastrophic events that affect an entire community or a large group of people, like wars and natural disasters.

In addition, Syrians are subjected to systematic collective punishment used by Bashar al-Assad’s regime to deter Syrians from expressing themselves, forcing a state of silent living.

This might explain the collective panic that brings back the initial trauma for thousands of Syrian refugees, linking any individual harm to an existential threat to all. The scenes of humiliation and assault rekindle collective trauma and memories of torture and humiliation in their original homeland.

The recent events against Syrians in Turkey ring alarm bells. Undoubtedly, they may push many Syrians to leave the country, creating new waves of migration to Europe or returning to Syria, while those who decide to stay will continue to accept narrower living spaces “until… things calm down.”