In the bustling commercial district of Damascus, Syria, Bassel al-Sati’s small shop is a hive of activity. This 31-year-old merchant has become renowned for his uniquely provocative socks, which have achieved viral status. These aren’t your average socks; they feature caricatured depictions of Bashar al-Assad and his family members, accompanied by mocking slogans.
"Everyone coming from abroad wants to buy these socks, to keep them as a souvenir and to mock the Assad clan," Bassel explains, his eyes twinkling with a hint of defiance and amusement. The socks have become a symbol of resistance, a tangible expression of the resentment that simmers beneath the surface of Syrian society.
One particular design showcases a portrait of the ousted president with the bold inscription: "We will trample them." This phrase, laden with revolutionary fervor, encapsulates the desire for a complete dismantling of the Assad regime and its legacy of oppression. Other socks target specific members of the Assad family. For instance, a pair features Bashar’s brother, Maher al-Assad, the former head of the infamous Fourth Brigade, known for its brutality and ruthless suppression of dissent. Maher is humorously dubbed "The King of Captagon," a sardonic reference to his alleged involvement in the production and trafficking of the highly addictive amphetamine-type stimulant. The nickname highlights the widespread perception of corruption and illicit activities within the Assad regime.
Bassel’s defiance doesn’t stop at socks. Stepping into his shop is like entering a subversive art gallery. He boldly displays posters of the former president directly on the floor, encouraging customers to step on them, even to burn them. "This is for those who couldn’t come to celebrate the fall of the regime," he declares, his voice laced with a sense of liberation. "They can do whatever they want with these images." The act of stomping on Assad’s image becomes a symbolic gesture of reclaiming agency and expressing pent-up frustration. The invitation to burn the posters is a more extreme expression of rejection, signifying a desire to eradicate all traces of the Assad regime from the collective memory.
The mastermind behind these rebellious socks is Ziad Zaouit, a 29-year-old factory owner. He conceived the idea just days after Assad’s reported flight to Moscow. "It’s a way to humiliate Assad, because people hate him. I took revenge on him after his escape," Ziad confesses, his words reflecting the widespread feeling of betrayal and disillusionment that many Syrians experienced. The socks, for Ziad, are a form of catharsis, a means of reclaiming dignity and agency in the face of years of suffering and oppression.
Ziad’s socks have proven to be incredibly popular, selling like hotcakes. He has been forced to ramp up production to meet the overwhelming demand. In just three months, he has already manufactured 200,000 pairs, a testament to the profound desire for symbolic resistance and a yearning for a future free from the Assad regime.
The ironic use of Assad’s own words has also become a popular form of protest and mockery in Syrian commerce. One particularly absurd quote, now etched in the collective memory of Syrians, has found a new life in the capital’s juice shops. The quote, "Why should we meet, Erdogan and I? To drink soft drinks, for example?" is prominently displayed in these establishments, often accompanied by a photo of Bashar al-Assad. The juxtaposition of the frivolous quote with the image of the former president serves to highlight the perceived detachment of the regime from the realities of everyday life and the suffering of the Syrian people. The use of humor and irony as tools of resistance is a powerful way to subvert the regime’s narrative and reclaim a sense of agency.
The success of these subversive products reflects a broader cultural shift in Syria. After years of fear and repression, people are finding new ways to express their discontent and challenge the prevailing power structures. The viral popularity of the Assad-themed socks and the ironic recycling of the former president’s words demonstrate the resilience and creativity of the Syrian people in the face of adversity. These seemingly small acts of defiance represent a significant step towards reclaiming agency and building a more just and equitable future.
The narrative of resistance woven into the fabric of Syrian commerce offers a glimpse into the complex and evolving social and political landscape of the country. While the physical scars of war and oppression remain, the spirit of defiance and the desire for a better future are palpable in the streets of Damascus. The socks, the posters, and the repurposed quotes are not merely commodities; they are symbols of hope and a testament to the enduring strength of the Syrian people. They represent a collective refusal to be silenced and a determination to shape their own destiny. The small shop in Damascus, with its rebellious merchandise, has become a microcosm of the larger struggle for freedom and dignity in Syria.
