When the Bashar al-Assad regime fell, Ameen Baddran knew whom to call.
Immediately, the longtime activist got on the phone with other community members in his native Douma, outside Damascus. They decided to step in and form a local council, which arranged garbage pickup, rubble-clearing, and interim policing.
Although the ruling Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS) has recently appointed a mayor and deployed police, the shadow volunteer local council has not slowed down, and is now planting trees and organizing reconstruction.
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Across Syria, as a stretched-thin interim government struggles to provide both security and services, local civil society groups are helping to fill the voids. But is there a part for them to play in politics, and in helping to shape the country’s future?
“We now have a country that we care for and take care of,” Mr. Baddran says, standing in front of a new roundabout the council renovated at the entrance to Douma. “After years of destruction, this is a chance to build.”
Across Syria, as a stretched-thin interim government struggles to provide both security and services, local civil society groups are stepping up and stepping in, helping to fill the voids.
From municipal services to ambulances to keeping the peace, Syrian civil society groups that evolved through a brutal civil war are now helping to build the country’s postwar future.
Revolutionary can-do spirit
In Douma, like in large swaths of Syria, the civil war was a period for residents to organize and practice local governance.
During a brutal regime siege from 2013-2018, local residents created their own community council. Reviving it in December 2024 was “second nature,” they say.
“During the siege we had experience governing ourselves,” says council member Fares Yahia. “Now we have even more freedom to meet our community’s needs. And without the threat of violence.”
In recent weeks, in addition to preparing plans for reconstruction, the Douma volunteer council even formed a reconciliation committee to resolve disputes and prevent revenge attacks against individuals seen as having cooperated with the former regime.
Now, it is working intimately with the new municipality.
“Instead of a government working against us, we are working with the government, hand in hand,” says council member Jamal Taha.
First responders
In a cordoned-off section of Damascus, near the once-feared Interior Ministry, a fleet of fire trucks and ambulances of various ages and states of repair waits in front of recently-painted murals of the Syrian revolution flag.
This is the new headquarters of the White Helmets, the volunteer disaster-relief group that achieved prominence during the civil war, and that are expanding their rescue services to the entire country.
Only a few months ago, the White Helmets were restricted to providing services in rebel-controlled areas around Idlib and Aleppo in the north.
With a staff of 3,500, the White Helmets are now attempting to provide firefighting, rescue, first-response, and ambulance services, as well as mine-clearing, to the entire nation.
It is a steep challenge, they say.
“We are not talking about one neighborhood or one city. We are talking about … an entire nation,” says Seraj Adam, a veteran White Helmets volunteer and first responder.
To ease the burden, the White Helmets have merged with the regime-era civil defense first responders. Cadres from both organizations race to emergencies to put out fires and rescue citizens together as one team, side by side.
Yet while the group’s responsibility has been growing, its international funding has fallen. The United States, Britain, and the European Union have cut back donations.
And as they assume nationwide responsibilities, White Helmet first responders face another challenge: trust.
They are now operating in areas previously controlled by the Assad regime, where the government spent years depicting the White Helmets as Al Qaeda terrorists in a bid to discredit their work and conceal its own crimes.
“We had to inform people – to challenge regime propaganda – that we are not here to steal from you or hurt you. Our only mission is to save lives,” Mr. Adam says, noting the group is holding town halls and introductory meetings with communities across the country. “This will take time and patience.”
“We are here to help and build a new country,” he adds.
Political ambitions
While focusing on cleaning streets and collecting evidence for transitional justice, grassroots groups are also eyeing political participation.
Such ambitions can be seen in a Douma youth group, Khatwa, or Step. Since 2018, it has provided career advice, helping high school seniors choose a major and navigate higher education.
Under Mr. Assad, the regime’s security services would confiscate the group’s pamphlets and interrogate members. It required them to have a security permit just to enter the university.
“Even our thoughts were restricted by the regime,” noted Khatwa founder Hadi Badran.
Since the revolution, the group has expanded to volunteerism, establishing a local public park and hosting spirited debates.
The next step? Forming a political party.
The youth activists are holding a series of talks this month on the transitional period, what it requires of citizens, and how young people can be politically active in the post-Assad era.
“Tomorrow we will have political parties. Young people must ask: What type of political party will suit me? What type of political program do I want?” says Mr. Badran.
“Civil society is always closer to the people than government administrations. We know people’s needs and opinions,” adds fellow Khatwa activist Bayyan Skaf. “The transition period is a time when we need to listen and broadcast people’s needs – now more than ever.”
The path forward?
It remains unclear what role civil society can play in Syria’s five-year political transition.
The new interim constitution, signed March 13, does not mention the word “democracy.” There are no elections or political parties in the period it lays out. Although the constitution guarantees speech and assembly freedoms, it does not grant the explicit freedom to form political parties.
Veteran activists caution that HTS and the interim government have not ceded space, so far, for political groups.
They point to both the interim constitution and the placing of HTS loyalists as heads of professional associations – the largest organized blocs in Syria – as signs that HTS does not intend for a vibrant political sphere.
“We are in a total mess at the constitutional level and at the political level,” says Anas Joudeh, director of the Syrian Building Movement, one of the few civil society organizations active during the Assad regime. “It’s a disaster. [Interim president Ahmed] Sharaa cannot talk about democracy in front of his allies and say, ‘I want to go to power-sharing,’ because that is not what they want.”
Since Mr. Assad’s toppling, Mr. Joudeh’s organization has gone from encouraging dialogue among business communities, syndicates, and local communities in the limited space granted under Assad, to facilitating broadly inclusive talks across the country on the way forward for Syria.
Their goal: to talk through peace, reconciliation, minority rights, transitional justice, and culture to reach a consensus on post-Assad Syria’s national identity.
Yet Mr. Joudeh fears that the interim government, although it accepts help from civil society on the services front, is not allowing for a wider dialogue on the political front.
“You can’t address security issues only through security measures, you need politics, you need peace-building that engages all segments of society,” he says. “We do not see this happening from the government.”
“History does not forgive societies that do not seize the moment,” cautions Mr. Joudeh. “This is one of those moments that won’t be repeated.”
“This is what we dreamt of,” adds Mr. Badran, the youth activist hoping to form a political party. “Change starts through the civil society but eventually turns into political action. That is freedom.”
