This week, as rebels entered Damascus, the world witnessed the sudden collapse of Bashar al-Assad’s regime—a dynasty that had gripped Syria for half a century. The image of a looted Presidential Palace, rebel flags flying high, stands in stark contrast to another historic moment in Damascus more than a century ago. In 1918, Prince Feisal and T.E. Lawrence rode into the city from the south, greeted by jubilant crowds and hopes of liberation from Ottoman rule. These two moments—separated by over a century—are bound by themes of betrayal, shifting allegiances, and the unfulfilled promises of liberation.
Back in 1918, the fall of Damascus marked a turning point in World War I. Prince Feisal, accompanied by Lawrence of Arabia, was the symbol of Arab unity against the Ottomans. The city celebrated their arrival as the dawn of a new era. But this euphoria was short-lived. The Sykes-Picot Agreement between Britain and France had already carved up the region, and Damascus would soon fall under French colonial rule, dashing Arab hopes for self-determination. As Lawrence himself lamented, the promises made to the Arab people were broken before they even set foot in the city.
This week, history seemed to echo those betrayals. Assad’s sudden flight—reportedly orchestrated with Russian support—left even his closest aides reeling.
“For your own personal safety, you sacrificed all your people?” an insider remarked bitterly, capturing the sentiment of betrayal that lingers over Syria today.
“Yes, and?” he might have replied.
In 1918, colonial powers reshaped the Middle East with little regard for the people they governed. Today, the collapse of Assad’s regime reveals a region still grappling with external influences, this time led by Russia, Iran, and Turkey. The revolution came not from the south but from the north, led by rebels supported by Turkish drones. If the 1918 liberation was compromised by Western colonialism, the 2024 fall of Damascus seems shaped by the unfinished ambitions of the Ottoman Empire. Is this a historical reckoning—a century-old revenge of the Turks?
The chapters of A Line in the Sand (shameless plug) that delve into Lawrence’s time in Damascus offer striking parallels. In the book, Lawrence reflects on the fragility of alliances and the betrayal of Arab independence. His frustration with Western duplicity mirrors the disillusionment many Syrians feel today. The book’s exploration of the city as a crucible for conflicting ambitions—colonial, national, and personal—feels painfully relevant. What can we learn from these lessons? That promises made to oppressed people often come with strings attached, and the struggle for true self-determination is rarely linear.
For Syria, the question remains: What comes next? Will the rebels forge a new path for the country, or will external powers continue to pull the strings? The fall of Damascus in 1918 was a moment of hope betrayed by geopolitics. In 2024, it is a moment of chaos that holds the faint glimmer of a fresh start. The cycle of liberation and betrayal continues, but perhaps this time, Syria will find a way to break it.