“At the checkpoint run by the Authority, just a few steps away from the illegal crossing into Lebanon, the smuggler whispered in my ear not to tell the officer that I’m Alawite if he asked about my religion, and to appear less tense. But I couldn’t hide my anxiety—I have autism. When the officer asked me, I said I was Sunni. That was the only moment I feared for my life, despite all the years of fear I had already endured.”
With these words, Jihad (a pseudonym) describes his escape to Lebanon, after the violations committed against members of the Alawite community along the Syrian coast—violations that, according to estimates from the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, claimed more than 2,000 lives. Thousands were driven to cross the Great River into Lebanese territory illegally.
Jihad told Daraj: “I was born in the city of Latakia to a family that was afraid to express its opinions and preferred to avoid politics. My father was a university professor, and my mother chose to stay home to care for us. As for me, I had taken a stance against the regime. When Bashar al-Assad’s regime fell, I felt hopeful about the next phase. But that hope quickly began to fade, especially once the violence started along the coast. I found myself forced to leave the country for good. I took a bus from Latakia to Homs, and from there crossed into Lebanon.”
In Jabal Mohsen, Tripoli, dozens of families fleeing the Syrian coast arrive each day. But the fear among Alawite refugees has not subsided, especially with the rise in incitement against them by some voices in the “Capital of the North,” citing various accusations, the most prominent being their alleged affiliation with the remnants of the Assad regime. This was exacerbated by recordings reporting an Assad regime officer being treated in one of Tripoli’s hospitals, as well as ongoing security tensions in the area, which required intervention by the Lebanese army.
“Tripoli Is No Longer What It Used to Be”
Rajwa (60 years old) fled from Safita to Jabal Mohsen with her only son, fearful that the situation would explode in the region. She told Daraj: “I fled seeking safety among our relatives here, with my only son, who never served in the regime’s army. My husband has been missing since the start of the war 12 years ago. My son carried me on his back as we crossed the river—it was a breathless escape. And even though I arrived in a place with no checkpoints or killings, I’m still afraid for my son. I fear he’ll leave Jabal Mohsen and never return. I can’t bear to lose him too.”
The journey across the Great River that Rajwa made has been taken by thousands of others, who fled to the homes of relatives in border villages. According to the Disaster and Crisis Management Room in Akkar Governorate, the total number of displaced people from the Syrian coast has reached around 21,000, including Lebanese families who had been living in bordering villages. Some continued on to Jabal Mohsen, where activist Ahmad Hammad described the situation to Daraj: “The reception of refugees in Jabal Mohsen wasn’t based on sectarianism—despite the neighborhood’s Alawite majority—but on humanitarian grounds, and because of the social and familial ties between people in the mountain and those from the Syrian coast. The inciting voices cannot influence or restore the previous tensions between Sunnis and Alawites in Tripoli, especially thanks to the efforts of security agencies working with civil society organizations and local actors in and outside the mountain.”
Is There Any Chance of Returning?
Some Syrian media outlets have reported that a number of Alawite families have returned to Tartus from Lebanon via the Hikr Daher crossing. However, the security situation in the coastal areas remains tense, especially with ongoing incidents of kidnapping. This has led many to prefer staying in Lebanon rather than returning. Rajwa says: “Our relatives here in Jabal Mohsen tell me I’m exaggerating in my fear, and that the situation in Tripoli today is not like it was years ago. But I worry about my son more than myself, especially after watching several TikTok videos calling for us to be hunted down and killed in Lebanon. I was born, raised, married, and had children in Safita, but I no longer want to return there. I prefer to stay here in Jabal Mohsen until things change.”
Lebanese Prime Minister Nawaf Salam addressed the issue of Syrian refugees during his recent meeting in Damascus with Syria’s unelected President Ahmad al-Sharaa. He wrote on X: “There was a discussion about facilitating the safe and dignified return of Syrian refugees to their land and homes with the support of the United Nations and friendly nations.” However, neither Salam nor al-Sharaa clarified exactly which refugees were being referred to—those who fled Syria in 2011 to escape the regime’s brutality, or the more recent wave of displaced people fleeing the massacres along the coast?
