Syrian artists fight Assad regime with satire

Story highlights

  • Syria's uprising has politicized and emboldened the country's artists
  • They say they have moved beyond fear, although they now face greater dangers
  • A protest singer's throat was cut and a cartoonist's hands broken
  • A major exhibition of Syrian political art is currently on display in Amsterdam
With horrors emerging from Syria's civil war with numbing regularity, it can be easy to lose sight of the fact that the uprising has not been waged only with guns.
A creative and resolutely non-violent form of opposition to Bashar al-Assad's regime has taken hold in Syria, as the country's artists respond to the crisis with newfound boldness and purpose, despite the clear dangers in doing so.
"Since the uprising, the artists have broken through the wall of fear in Syria and are thinking in another way," said Syrian journalist Aram Tahhan, one of the curators of an exhibition on Syria's creative dissent -- Culture in Defiance -- currently on display in Amsterdam.
"The uprising has changed the artists' thinking about the task of art in society, how they can do something useful for society," said Tahhan. "They have rewritten everything."
With works spanning from painting to song to cartoons, puppet theater to graffiti to plays, the exhibition traces the way that Syrian artists have used a range of creative techniques within traditional and new media to create political, populist art that that both brooks "the red line" of dissent and engages the public in unprecedented ways.
The regime is well aware of the power of visual images and art to mobilize public opinion, says Tahhan. After all, the uprising began when schoolchildren in Daraa were arrested for painting anti-government graffiti on the walls of a school last year.
"From the beginning the regime has known it's dangerous to use the image, to use art," said Tahhan. "The camera is the equal of any weapon from the point of view of the regime."
A dangerous calling
All of which has made producing political art dangerous, sometimes mortally so. Ibrahim Qashoush, a fireman and part-time poet from Hama, wrote popular anti-Assad songs that were sung demonstrations, most notably a number called "Time to Leave."
Last July, his body was found dumped in a river with his throat cut out, vocal cords removed. A pen-and-ink portrait of the mutilated singer by artist Khalil Younes is featured in the exhibition, while Qashoush's song is played in a section the curators call the "Revolutionary Hit Parade."
The regime's brutality has struck more established artists as well.
The distinguished political cartoonist Ali Ferzat had his first piece published in a newspaper when he was 12, produced a daily editorial cartoon for the official newspaper throughout the 1970s, and had direct contact with Bashar al-Assad throughout the early days of his presidency.
"I remember when he first walked into my exhibition at a cultural centre -- a tall dude with a large entourage. He asked me how he could access what the people were thinking and I told him to just talk to them," Ferzat said, in an interview printed in the exhibition's catalog.
Ferzat's cartoons had typically used symbols, and rarely depicted identifiable political figures. But three months before the uprising began, hoping to inspire others, he resolved to take a more strident approach.
Writing a call to arms on his website -- "We have to break the barrier of fear that is 50 years old" -- he began drawing senior regime figures, before breaking the final taboo by depicting Assad himself.
"It was a decision that took a lot of guts, but I felt it was time. No one could take their corruption anymore," he said.
In August 2011, he said he was abducted by gunmen and brutally assaulted, his attackers focusing their violence on his hands.
Ferzat has left the Syria to recuperate, but like many others in his position, has vowed to continue working and to return to his country.
"I just started drawing after healing," he said. "After I was assaulted and my hands were broken, someone asked me: Could I still find the courage to draw? I told them I had been ashamed by the suffering of 13-year-old