Syria's Newest Graveyard

Photo Source: Google Images

By Naveed Qazi | Editor, Globe Upfront

Eastern Ghouta, once a fertile agricultural belt on the outskirts of Damascus, became a symbol of devastation during the Syrian civil war. In February 2018, the enclave was described as ‘Syria’s newest graveyard’ after one of the deadliest bombardments in years. According to the Syrian Observatory for Human Rights, at least ninety‑eight people were killed in a single day, marking the deadliest attack in Syria’s three‑year war history at that time. Over five days, the death toll rose to 229, including fifty‑eight children and forty‑three women, underscoring the indiscriminate nature of the assault, as reported by The Guardian and BBC News. The United Nations estimated that around 400,000 civilians were trapped in Eastern Ghouta, half of them children, with UNICEF and Save the Children warning of acute malnutrition and psychological trauma among the youngest.

The enclave had been under siege since 2013, with food, medicine, and humanitarian supplies severely restricted. Rebel groups such as Jaish al‑Islam, Faylaq al‑Rahman, and Hayat Tahrir al‑Sham controlled different pockets of the territory, occasionally engaging in peace negotiations but often fractured by rivalry, as noted in New York Times coverage. The humanitarian crisis was compounded by relentless airstrikes: over four days in February 2018, more than 700 civilians were injured. Photojournalists captured paramedics carrying children through neighbourhoods reduced to rubble, while the volunteer organisation known as the White Helmets intensified rescue operations amidst collapsing buildings, according to Reuters and Associated Press.

Survivors described emerging from twisted metal and debris as dark smoke rose over the enclave. The United States accused Russia of imposing strict curfews in areas under its control, preventing civilians from leaving through humanitarian corridors, reported Washington Post and Wall Street Journal. Doctors and nurses resorted to using WhatsApp to communicate with foreign media, while children and activists turned to Twitter to broadcast the shocking realities on the ground. Despite a thirty‑day truce announced by the UN Security Council, fighting resumed almost immediately, as Al Jazeera observed.

The siege of Eastern Ghouta was particularly alarming given its designation as a ‘de‑escalation zone’ under a May 2017 agreement signed by Iran, Russia, and Turkey. Yet by early 2018, Syrian government forces had regained control of 10–25 per cent of the enclave, citing its strategic importance due to proximity to Damascus and Assad’s residence, reported Financial Times and Foreign Policy. Around 30,000 people were internally displaced from villages such as Beit Sawa, Otaya, and Douma, further straining humanitarian relief efforts, according to Amnesty International.

Syria’s notoriety for chemical weapons use added another layer of horror. The use of chlorine and other agents violated UN Security Council resolutions and the 1997 Chemical Weapons Convention, according to Human Rights Watch and UN Human Rights Council reports. Although Syria agreed in September 2013 to destroy its chemical arsenal under a US‑Russia deal following the sarin gas attack in Ghouta, doubts persisted. By June 2014, 1,300 tonnes of declared chemical weapons had been handed over to the Organisation for the Prohibition of Chemical Weapons (OPCW), yet several nations questioned whether the arsenal had truly been eliminated, as BBC News and OPCW statements confirmed.

A confidential OPCW report, later summarised by Reuters, concluded ‘with utmost confidence’ that mustard gas had been used in Marea, north of Aleppo, in August 2014. Diplomatic sources suggested the chemical was deployed during clashes between Islamic State and rival rebels, raising fears that ISIS had either manufactured or seized chemical weapons. American intelligence during the Obama administration believed that Sunni extremist groups had mastered the production of sarin. CIA officials pointed to Ziyaad Tariq Ahmad, a former Iraqi army officer linked to al‑Nusra, as having expertise in producing sarin and mustard gas, according to New York Times. Further evidence emerged in August 2015 when blood samples from thirty‑five Kurdish Peshmerga fighters in Erbil tested positive for mustard gas exposure, reported Washington Post and Kurdish regional authorities. In April 2017, chemical weapons were again believed to have been used in Khan Sheikhoun, Idlib province, killing dozens. The Independent International Commission of Inquiry on Syria reported thirty‑four documented incidents of chemical weapons use by various parties as of January 2018, condemning such acts as violations of international law, noted Guardian and International Crisis Group.

Despite limited access for investigators, UN reports compiled credible evidence of chemical attacks targeting Syrian soldiers as well. In December 2013, then‑Secretary‑General Ban Ki‑moon noted that chemical weapons were used in Khan al‑Asal on 19 March 2013 against both soldiers and civilians, in Jobar on 24 August 2013 against soldiers, and in Ashrafiah Sahnaya on 25 August 2013 on a smaller scale, according to UN Secretary‑General’s Report.

The French government’s national assessment of the Douma chemical attack in April 2018 concluded with ‘a high degree of confidence’ that the Syrian regime was responsible, reported Le Monde and BBC. Civil society groups and medical organisations such as the Syrian American Medical Society and Médecins Sans Frontières documented exposure to chemical agents, reinforcing international outrage. Yet Russia and Syria denied responsibility, accusing rebels of staging the incident. This clash of narratives highlighted the geopolitical stakes: Assad, backed by Iran and Russia, faced calls to step down, while the US framed him as a puppet of Moscow and Tehran, according to New York Times and The Economist.

The question of regime change loomed large. If Assad were removed, what would follow in a country where ISIS and other extremist groups continued to gain footholds? For many Syrians, the prospect of a US‑backed regime raised fears of foreign domination rather than liberation, as Guardian analysis suggested. Meanwhile, Turkey pursued its own offensive against Kurdish forces in northern Syria, complicating the battlefield with yet another actor seeking influence, reported Al Jazeera and Anadolu Agency.

Eastern Ghouta thus became a microcosm of Syria’s broader tragedy: a humanitarian disaster, a theatre of chemical warfare, and a geopolitical chessboard where global powers vied for dominance. The siege ended in April 2018 with the Syrian army’s capture of the enclave, but the scars remain. As one UN official remarked, ‘the scale of suffering in Eastern Ghouta is a stain on our collective conscience’, according to UN News.

The events in Eastern Ghouta illustrate the convergence of humanitarian catastrophe and geopolitical rivalry. Civilians bore the brunt of indiscriminate bombardments, chemical attacks, and starvation, while international actors debated responsibility and strategy. The enclave’s fall underscored Assad’s determination to secure Damascus, but at immense human cost. The legacy of Eastern Ghouta is not only the graves of thousands but also the unanswered question: can Syria ever rebuild trust and stability when its war has been marked by chemical weapons, foreign interventions, and fractured opposition?