From ashes to action: How local Syrian communities are rallying to rescue Latakia's burning forests from complete destruction

The smell of smoke still clings to George Hamowi's clothes three days after he rushed headfirst into the flames consuming Syria's coastal forests. His right hand, bandaged from a fall on treacherous terrain, hasn't slowed the 24-year-old's determination to save what he calls "the lungs of his country."

"My response to this environmental disaster is a soul's cry," George tells The New Arab, his voice carrying the weight of someone who has watched his homeland burn before — but this time, from climate change rather than war.

"It's not just to save nature, but to save what remains of it within us."

George represents the human face of an extraordinary grassroots mobilisation as Syria battles one of its worst environmental disasters in modern history.

For more than a week, wildfires have raged across the coastal region, destroying over 150 square kilometres of forest and farmland — an area representing more than 3% of the country's total forested land.

The blazes have spread to Mount Badrousia, threatening civilian homes and the precious Fernlaq Nature Reserve, one of Syria's largest natural forests. But amid the devastation, stories of resilience and community solidarity are emerging from the smoke-filled valleys of Latakia Province.

When the first flames appeared in early July, George didn't wait for protective gear or official authorisation. He simply drove toward the fire. His first act was practical and deeply personal — securing water tanks for affected families and emergency teams, initially paying for two from his savings before word spread and modest contributions began trickling in from others.

Twenty-two water tanks — that's what this young volunteer has managed to coordinate for seventy affected families, working alongside colleagues who continue providing food, ice blocks, medicine, and other supplies for both professional firefighting teams and fellow volunteers.

"I belong to this land, and everything that happens to it feels like it's happening to me," George explains, unconsciously touching his injured hand.

During one intervention, he fell on the rough terrain while helping move equipment to a remote fire front. Despite the setback, he continues volunteering daily, now part of a growing network of civil activists who have formed an operations room to coordinate relief efforts.

His story echoes across the fire-affected region, where dozens of community initiatives have spontaneously emerged. Syrian Civil Defense teams, known as the White Helmets, have been working around the clock, but they're no longer alone. Local communities have stepped forward to fill gaps in resources and reach areas that formal emergency services struggle to access.

The challenges are immense. Syrian Emergency Minister Raed Saleh has appealed to the European Union for assistance, highlighting field obstacles that include active winds, the absence of fire breaks, and the deadly presence of landmines and war remnants, causing repeated explosions in fire zones.

When fire doesn't discriminate

In the chaos of evacuation and emergency response, it would be easy to overlook the animals caught in the flames. But the Rafq rapid intervention team refused to let that happen. Six volunteers organised themselves into specialised units, with each small group handling specific duties and designated areas.

"We divided ourselves into groups," explains Diala Ghashim, head of the Rafq Animal Rescue Association, her voice steady despite the emotional weight of the work.

"One group was on the front lines with civil defence teams, another worked in areas already cooled from fires, and another handled coordination and securing supplies for our team and others on the ground."

The work is heartbreaking and dangerous. Wild animals, already traumatised by flames, don't trust human rescuers. The team has witnessed deer, wild boars, and foxes fleeing through walls of fire, with some making it to safety and others not.

But their persistence has saved lives: one female dog and four puppies from the Badrousia area during the first three days, plus one turtle and thirteen cats. By day nine, their non-final count had reached 27 rescued animals, all of which were transferred to an animal shelter in Aleppo for treatment and recovery.

"Rescuing animals is humanitarian work complementary to saving the environment," Diala reflects. "Our work stems from mercy for our forests and great love for our country."

The sentiment captures something essential about the community response — it's not just about stopping fires, but about preserving the interconnected web of life that makes these coastal mountains feel like home.

Um Ali, 67, embodies the determination of those who've chosen to stay despite losing almost everything. The flames consumed most of her family's agricultural lands in Ayash village, and their cow — their primary source of income — died in the fire. She and her husband, both over seventy, briefly evacuated before returning to their damaged home.

"We won't leave our land and home," the elderly woman declares, her voice carrying decades of attachment to the soil her family has worked for generations.

"With every metre that burns from our lands, our souls burn. We've dedicated our entire lives to this land, and today we're watching it breathe its last breaths."

Her words reflect the profound emotional cost of environmental disaster in a region where identity and landscape are inextricably linked. Yet even in grief, there's defiance — a refusal to be defeated by forces beyond her control.

Majd, 38, witnessed the fire's first moments in the Iman and Kashish area. "We tried to extinguish the fire as usual," he recalls, "but we were surprised by how quickly it spread to fifteen other villages within the Farah Falah municipality."

His account captures the speed and ferocity of fires that authorities have described as some of the most challenging disasters the country has faced.

Networks of care

The "Be Supportive" initiative exemplifies the organised spontaneity of the community response. Led by 27-year-old coordinator Dima Hammoud, the group began work on the third day of fires, conducting an initial assessment before focusing their efforts on affected families.

Their impact has been substantial: 39 water tanks, 100 food rations, baby formula, and clothing for the victims. According to their preliminary statistics, 15 villages in the Qastal area have been completely affected, with damage concentrated in agricultural lands and resulting in livestock deaths. The initiative includes 77 people who distribute tasks among themselves, creating an informal but effective relief network.

"We work in challenging circumstances, but this won't limit our determination because this is our land and it has a right over us," says Aya Al-Qamoua, director of the Seventh Project initiative, which has secured medicines for thirty affected cases while maintaining 36 members working within fire zones.

The Ansar team brings specialised experience to the firefighting effort, sending thirty volunteers with training in difficult conditions to work alongside civil defence teams on the front lines.

"The forests were calling us as if they were screaming for us to respond and extinguish their fire," explains team director Hamza Al-Abdullah, capturing the sense of personal responsibility that drives much of the volunteer effort.

The scale of the crisis has prompted international assistance, with Turkey, Jordan, and Lebanon sending firefighting aircraft and teams to support Syrian efforts.

More than 150 field teams are participating in the response, supported by 300 firefighting vehicles and heavy engineering equipment.

But it's the combination of international resources and local knowledge that offers the best hope for both immediate fire suppression and long-term recovery. Community volunteers are familiar with the terrain, understand local needs, and can reach isolated areas that formal emergency services might overlook.

The fires come at a particularly challenging time for Syria, as the country grapples with severe drought conditions that haven't been seen in 60 years.

The Food and Agriculture Organization has warned that drought threatens 16.3 million people with food insecurity, making the preservation of agricultural lands and forests even more critical.

Safaa Sallal is a Syrian journalist focusing on humanitarian, social, and developmental issues

This article is published in collaboration with Egab