For three years,
residents of Syria's Mediterranean provinces have watched from their
coastal sanctuary as civil war raging further inland tore the country
apart, killing tens of thousands of people and devastating historic
cities. But a three-week-old offensive
by rebel fighters in the north of Latakia province, a bastion of
President Bashar al-Assad's Alawite minority, has brought the battle
ever closer and shattered that sense of relative security. Rebels
are now fighting in the hills overlooking the sea, bringing the
country's main port of Latakia within their range - rocket-fire killed
eight people in one barrage on the city a month ago - and Syria's coast
feels under real threat. "They can
erase us, even those of us who support them," said a young Alawite woman
as she drank coffee with her fiance in a Latakia cafe, 50 km (30 miles)
south of where have rebels seized their first toehold on Syria's coast,
by the Turkish border. While many
Alawites, roughly 10 percent of Syria's 23 million people, have actively
supported Assad, others sympathized with the popular revolt against him
in 2011 but now fear reprisals from his mainly Sunni Muslim enemies. Memories
of a rebel offensive in August, when scores of Alawite villagers near
Latakia were killed by radical Sunni Islamists and foreign jihadists,
heighten tensions in the bustling streets of the city of 400,000. Even
as Assad, 300 km to the south in Damascus, sounds ever more confident
of holding on [ID:nL6N0N13ZT], the chaotic ebb and flow of civil war has
intruded even into this most sheltered part of the state, while the
hunt for spies and traitors and losses suffered by Assad loyalists
continue to sour daily life. Even
before the bombardments started to encroach on the once peaceful city,
the cost of Syria's war was plain from the daily funeral processions for
fallen soldiers and pro-Assad militia. "Everyone here has been sending their sons to fight the war in other parts of Syria,
and every day we hear the sirens and funerals of those soldiers," said
Yasmin, a woman in Latakia who has been active in opposing Assad. But
the arrival of the war on its doorstep has, she said, unnerved the
city: "We thought that we were somewhat invincible, as if the rebels
would never reach us. But that's not true". Yasmin
said school buildings have filled up with Alawite refugees who fled
villages further north to take shelter in the city - a common sight
elsewhere but a new phenomenon on the coast: "Now they're like so many
other displaced Syrians." WITHIN RANGE The fighting which has brought fear to Latakia started three weeks ago when rebels moved in from Turkey
and seized the border crossing at the Armenian Christian village of
Kasab - the last crossing point from Turkey into government-controlled
territory. They also captured a
small beach nearby to give them their first beachhead on Syria's 250 km
of Mediterranean coastline - a symbolic though militarily insignificant
gain. They battled Assad's forces for control of hilltops that include a
satellite communications post known as Observation Point 45. Nervous Latakia city residents say heavy artillery fire could easily strike them from that vantage point. "It's
not going to matter if you're with them or not," said a young dentist,
speaking in the city centre. "The mortars won't make a distinction. And
if the rebels come down here, they won't take time to distinguish
between who's with them and who's not." As
elsewhere in the tortuous, grinding war that has already killed 150,000
people, there is no indication that the fighting in Latakia marks any
decisive shift in the broader conflict. The
streets of Latakia are as busy as ever, even if only one ship was
visible in the harbor in the first week of April - in ordinary times it
handles dozens. On Thursday afternoons, bus tickets out of Latakia sell
out fast as college students who board at the local university return
home for the weekend. But
authorities in the port, which is also a hub for the U.N.-backed
international operation to ship out Syria's chemical weapons arsenal by
the end of the month, appear anxious. Two months ago, they shut down Internet connections from cafes and other public places along the entire coast, apparently to prevent communications that evade surveillance. One
cafe owner in Tartous, a city 40 km north of the Lebanese border which
also hosts a Russian naval base, said he had protested in to the
authorities about being forced offline. "They
told me when people go online from a public place, they can't trace
that person like they trace people who surf the net from home," he said. At
frequent government checkpoints along the main coastal highway, armed
men scrutinize ID cards for clues to travelers' religion and political
sympathies. Most security personnel and senior military officers on the
coast hail from local Alawite villages, and have a keen eye for spotting
outsiders. "What are looking
scared about?" barked one armed state security patrolman at a nervous
college student on a public bus travelling between Latakia and Tartous. He
took the young man's document to "float it" - check it in a
computerized system for outstanding warrants or summonses from any of
Syria's numerous intelligence agencies. The
process takes a few moments, but can feel like an eternity - since the
uprising, many people have been detained after their papers were
"floated", or have simply disappeared. Local
people say they have begun to see Iraqi Shi'ite militiamen along the
coast, apparently boosting the ranks of the Syrian military. Iraqis, who
speak a distinctive dialect, have joined those from Lebanon's Hezbollah
as well as advisers and commanders from Shi'ite regional power Iran in aiding Assad. This
correspondent saw unarmed men wearing military fatigues with Shi'ite
insignia strolling around several Syrian coastal towns and speaking with
Lebanese accents. Alawites consider themselves an offshoot of the
Shi'ite branch of Islam. COMMUNAL VIOLENCE The
death last month of Hilal al-Assad, a cousin of the president, has
added to the new feeling of vulnerability among government loyalists in
the coastal provinces. The man,
who led the local branch of the National Defense Force militia, died
three weeks ago in a battle near the Turkish border with Islamist rebels
- the first member of the extended ruling family to be killed since a
bombing in Damascus in 2012. Rumors
of rebel atrocities against Christians in the ethnic Armenian town of
Kasab, circulated among the Armenian diaspora abroad, have added to the
febrile atmosphere further down the coast - despite efforts by rebels to
disprove the allegations. Communal violence has become a feature of the war. When
two people from the ethnic Turkmen community were found dead in a park
in Latakia last month, their killing was widely seen as a revenge attack
by Alawites for perceived Turkmen support for the rebels and their ties
with Assad's enemy Turkey. Sunni
neighborhoods on the coast are being increasingly targeted by security
forces hunting rebels, residents say. Young men are detained and taken
away for interrogation in facilities where rights groups say many have
been tortured and killed. On the
coast road near Tartous last week, a white minibus drove by escorted by
three government vehicles mounted with machineguns. Inside the van, were
about a dozen, mostly young, men. Their arms appeared to be shackled
behind their backs. Several had their eyes covered by blindfolds. (The identity of the reporter has been withheld for security reasons) (Reuters; Editing by Dominic Evans and Alastair Macdonald)
In Assad's coastal heartland, Syria's war creeps closer

Zaman Alwasl
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