Source: IRIN
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Civil society emerging in rebel held areas |
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FSA and people taking over service delivery |
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New court system developed, but serious flaws remain |
“We are running things ourselves now,” said Ahmed, a local engineer IRIN spoke to on the phone. “It was difficult at first, but now it’s normal.” Amid headlines of fighting and carnage, the steady growth of civil society in Syria’s rebel-held areas has gone largely unnoticed.
Widespread infrastructural damage means many towns and districts lack access to basic goods and services, but ordinary residents are stepping in, developing sometimes sophisticated networks of support and self-rule. Al-Bara is one of over 70 villages in Jebel Azzawiyeh, a rebel-held upland area near the Turkish border. Since the army left, residents have set up their own municipal councils in each village.
“We elected 45 people, who then chose the 12-member council,” said Ahmed. “All of them are people with a university degree.”
The council presides over a variety of committees, each responsible for a different aspect of community life. There are work groups for cleaning the streets, for gathering donations and passing them on to families in need, or for making sure food, fuel and gas are evenly distributed. The emergence of similar structures is reported in many other areas abandoned by the state.
Self-rule
“We have a new government now,” an activist called Mohammed Sayid* in Hretan, near Aleppo, told IRIN by phone. “Some people take the decisions, but everybody has a job to do.”
Though food prices have risen sharply, and some items like flour are often difficult to obtain, communities are still able to share what is available, say residents in the northern provinces of Aleppo and Idlib.
"Without these committees, there would be a lot of problems. Everything would probably fall apart," said Ibrahim, a student in Maaret al Horma, another village in Jebel Azzawiyeh. Ibrahim's father used to support the family as a construction worker in Lebanon, but with the roads unsafe due to the fighting, he cannot travel across the border anymore. Now, the family is living off their small farm, but the yields are not sufficient. "The humanitarian aid committee in our village is giving us food packages. Usually there is cooking oil in it, tea, sugar and other basic stuff. It is very basic, but it is keeping us alive."
As Ibrahim says, the committee has a list of names of people in need who are entitled to receive the packages. Activists and Free Syrian Army (FSA) fighters purchase supplies in nearby Turkey using donations from Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates, then funnel it across the border into the village. "Life is still very difficult, particularly for the refugees from Hama Province who are living in our mosques. But somehow, we still manage to make do."
However, in other areas, where people are not at liberty to organize their own systems of supply and support, the humanitarian crisis is deepening.
“We cannot set up committees because we do not have the freedom to move,” said Abu Emad*, an activist in a village near Homs.
Though the army has withdrawn from the village itself, soldiers are still surrounding it, frequently launching attacks. “It is too dangerous to walk around outside, so we have to pass food and water from house to house.”
But even in the most self-sufficient rebel-held areas, some services like electricity still come from the government - though there are hour-long power cuts every day.
A new legal system
The provision of food and other basic items seems to be the primary concern in most rebel-controlled communities.
Residents in these areas are also taking charge of other sectors. In al-Bara, a five-member council of elders is now responsible for all legal issues. These councils, say residents, are part of the traditional system of conflict resolution. Now, they are the only legal authority left.
“There are two reasons why I am a member of this court: One is my age and the other is that people respect me,” said retired construction worker Abu Fadi, 62.
The court recently had to deal with the case of a man who was accused of stealing figs. “First we listen to all sides. Two of us are prosecution, two of us are defence,” Abu Fadi explained. “The fifth member is the judge, and he decides if the defendant is guilty or not.”
The fig thief was found guilty and sentenced to a week in prison. He also had to pay a fine amounting to three times the price of the figs and sign a statement in which he promised not to steal again.
If a defendant is convicted of a more serious crime, such as murder, he is usually banished from the village. In cases of family disputes or neighbourhood conflicts, the court tries to act as an intermediary, negotiating agreements between the different sides. The judge leading the council is a sheikh with a degree in Sharia law.
“I am very good at solving problems,” Abu Ramez*, a cleric, said by phone. The sources for his verdicts are local customs and religious texts: “The problem is that you cannot rule people here with the Koran. They wouldn’t accept it. So I usually use my own common sense. If I am not sure what to do, I will see if I find something in the Quran.”
