Syrian Survivor of Assad Regime Abuse No Longer Fears Revealing Identity

René holds a music box, a cherished item inherited from his grandmother. This small, intricately mosaiced object, which plays a familiar tune, represents a tangible connection to his past. As he opens it, the tinkling melody evokes memories of his former home in Damascus. René states, “This is all I have left of my home.” René Shevan, a young man of gentle demeanor, characterized by his short stature, slender build, and soft-spoken manner, has experienced fluctuating emotions throughout the week. He feels joy following the overthrow of Bashar al-Assad, yet also profound heartbreak from the memories of his time spent in Syrian prisons. René recounts harrowing experiences from his imprisonment: “There was a woman. I still have her image here in my head. She was standing in the corner, and she was pleading…it’s clear that they raped her. “He also recalls a young boy, aged “15 or 16 years old,” who was being raped and “was calling his mother. He was saying, ‘Mama… my mother… Mom.'” René himself endured rape and sexual abuse. Twelve years prior, upon his escape from Syria, he met the interviewer, appearing visibly distressed, shaking and in tears, and fearful of being filmed. He had been apprehended by the secret police for participating in a pro-democracy demonstration, and his homosexuality was also known to them. René was subjected to gang rape by three individuals. His pleas for mercy were met with laughter. He remembered in 2012, “Nobody heard me. I was alone.” His captors informed him that this treatment was a consequence of his demands for freedom. For six months, he endured daily abuse from another officer. Recent television broadcasts showing prisoners released in Damascus this week brought back vivid memories of his own ordeal. René described his reaction to the images: “I’m not in prison now, I’m here. But I saw myself in the photos and the images of the people in Syria. I was so happy for them, but I saw myself there… I saw the old version of me there. I saw when they raped me, and when they tortured me. I saw everything in flashback.” Overcome with emotion, he began weeping, prompting a temporary halt to the interview, which he requested to resume after “A few minutes.” On his sitting room wall, the interviewer observed a photograph of René’s destroyed Syrian home, another of him participating in a marathon in Utrecht, and an image of Father Frans Van Der Lugt, a 75-year-old Jesuit priest, psychotherapist, and ecumenical activist in Syria, who was assassinated in 2014. Father Van Der Lugt had offered René reassurance, in a challenging conservative setting, by affirming his normalcy and God’s love regardless of his sexual orientation. After drinking water, René requested to resume the discussion. The interviewer pondered his willingness to appear on camera now. René explained his decision, stating, “Because the republic of fear is gone. Because I am I’m not scared of them any more. Because Assad is a refugee in Moscow. Because all the criminals in Syria ran away. Because Syria returned to all Syrian people.” He expressed his aspirations: “I hope we will be able to live as a people in freedom, in equality. I’m so proud of myself as a Syrian, Dutch, as LGBT.” However, he does not yet feel confident about the prospect of living openly as a gay individual in Syria. Homosexual acts were criminalized under the Assad government. The current leaders of the country, who possess fundamentalist religious backgrounds, have been linked to violence and persecution targeting gay individuals. René noted, “There are many Syrian LGBT who fought. They were part of the revolution, and they lost their life. [The Syrian regime] killed them just because they were LGBT, and because they were part of the revolution.” René described himself as “realistic” regarding the potential for change and also voiced concern for the protection of all religious and ethnic communities, including the Kurds. René is one of approximately six million Syrians who sought refuge outside the country, primarily in neighboring nations such as Lebanon, Jordan, and Turkey, or in Europe. Following the collapse of the Assad regime, several European countries have temporarily halted asylum applications from Syrians, a decision that international human rights organizations have deemed premature. Germany hosts an estimated one million Syrians, including a notable disabled Kurdish girl whom the interviewer first encountered in August 2015. At that time, she was part of a large group of people who had arrived on the Greek island of Lesbos, continuing her journey northward through Serbia, Croatia, Slovenia, and Austria. Nujeen’s journey from northern Syria to Europe involved traversing mountains, rivers, and the sea, with her sister, Nisreen, pushing her wheelchair. She expressed her aspirations: “I want to be an astronaut, and maybe meet an alien. And I want to meet the Queen.” The interviewer, crouching beside her on a dusty road amidst thousands of exhausted asylum seekers in the midday heat, noted her infectious good humor and optimism. Nujeen had learned fluent English by watching American television. She was raised in Aleppo and later moved to her family’s hometown of Kobane, a Kurdish stronghold that subsequently faced attacks from the Islamic State (IS) group, as the conflict intensified. The interviewer now meets Nujeen in Cologne’s vibrant Neumarkt Square, amidst Christmas market stalls where residents enjoy sausage and mulled wine, a setting where the conflicts of Syria appear distant. For Nujeen, however, the Syrian situation remains present. She has spent the entire week watching television late into the night, even with an upcoming exam for her business administration course, confident in her ability to manage. Nujeen recognizes that the fall of Assad represents a unique moment of hope, unlike any other. Nujeen stated, “Nothing lasts forever. Darkness is followed by dawn.” She continued, “I knew that I would never come back to a Syria that had Assad as president, and that we would never have the chance to be a better nation with that man in charge. We knew that we would never find peace unless he’s gone. And now with that chapter over, I think the real challenge begins.” Similar to René, Nujeen desires a country that embraces diversity and supports individuals with disabilities. She remarked, “I don’t want to go back to a place where there is no lift and only stairs up to an apartment on the fourth floor.” As a Kurd, Nujeen is acutely aware of her community’s history of hardship in the region. With Kurdish forces now compelled to withdraw from northern oil-producing cities, she perceives a threat from the new, Turkish-backed regime. Nujeen expressed her concern: “We know these people that came into power now. We know the countries and the powers that are backing them, and they’re not exactly fans of Kurds. They do not exactly love us. That’s our biggest worry right now.” Additionally, there is apprehension about a possible resurgence of IS should Syria’s new leadership fail to establish national stability. Nujeen maintains regular contact with family members residing in Kurdish regions, noting, “They are anxious and worried about the future as we all are. We never stop calling, and we are always worried if they don’t pick up after the first ring. There’s a lot of uncertainty about what’s going to happen next.” The altered asylum policies in Europe further heighten this uncertainty. Despite these challenges, Nujeen’s life experiences—including a serious disability from birth, enduring the horrors of war, and journeying across the Middle East and Europe to safety—have cultivated an enduring sense of hope. This hope has remained undiminished throughout the nearly ten years the interviewer has known her, and the overthrow of Assad has only strengthened her belief in Syria and its populace. Nujeen asserted, “There are many people who are waiting to see Syria fall into some kind of an abyss. We are not people who hate or envy or want to want to eliminate each other. We are people who were raised to be afraid of each other. But our default setting is that we love and accept who we are.” She concluded, “We can and will be a be a better nation – a nation of love, acceptance and peace, not one of chaos, fear and destruction.” Many individuals in Syria and globally share her hope for this outcome.