Bassel Shahadeh’s legacy lives on as Damascus hosts the first public memorial for slain activist years after his death

Thirteen years after the death of Bassel Shahadeh, a prominent Damascene activist and a talented filmmaker killed by the Assad regime in the early months of the Syrian revolution, his friends, family and fellow activists were able for the first time to openly celebrate his legacy in an event held at Beyt Farhi, a stunning 18th century house located in Damascus’ ancient Jewish Quarter.

Given how Syria’s security services have stifled political activism for more than sixty years, it was inspiring to witness a massive turnout of Syrians of all ages almost six months after the overthrow of the Assad regime.

“During the funeral of the first martyr [of the revolution] in Kafr Susa, Bassel put his camera on the body of the martyr. I asked him why, and he responded that this way it was as if the martyr was filming,” said Wafa Ali Mustafa, a friend of Bassel Shehadeh and fellow activist. 

The Syrian regime’s army killed Bassel Shahadeh while he was documenting the bombardments of the besieged city of Homs on 28 May 2012, when he was only 28 years old. He quickly became an icon of the Syrian uprising, also because, being a Christian, he was a living testimony to the non-sectarian nature of the early phase of the revolution. 

The organisers were keen on ensuring that those who were killed with Bassel on that same day did not go forgotten, despite being less well-known to the broader public.

All of Ahmad al-Asam, Mohannad Orabi al-Najjar and Emad al-Kassab fell victim on the same day. Ahmad was an activist from Homs who had been reporting on the forced displacement of those who rose up against Assad. Mohannad was a jeweller who left behind a 4-month-old daughter. Emad was 18 years old, the youngest of them. The organisers of the event explained that they only knew from his Facebook posts that he had managed to convince his father to allow him to join the rebels Free Syrian Army (FSA). 

Bassel witnessed the growing militarisation of the opposition, which hit a point of no return in 2012. The fact that he was filming an armed group did not come as a surprise to those who knew Bassel well. Lina al-Hafez, a filmmaker who worked extensively with Bassel, told The New Arab that “despite being a firm pacifist himself, he understood and respected the different choices people made, when he trusted them as individuals and knew their motivations were good.” 

Organisers also highlighted the non-political components of his life, in an attempt to normalise the memory of the martyr of a cause.

Zeina Shahla, his neighbour who had enrolled in the same university, recalled Bassel’s motorcycle trip to India, from which he returned in May 2011, shortly after the outbreak of the Syrian uprising.

Bassel went on to travel to the US in September 2011, to pursue his academic studies in cinema after having obtained a scholarship. He returned to Syria in December.

What emerges is the portrait of a middle-class Damascene who was inspirational for many around him. “Bassel took me by hand to the first demonstrations,” said Shahla. A member of the audience stood up to say that, although he had never met Bassel, he had been using his name as a pseudonym for political activism. “Bassel gave positive energy to all of us,” recalled al-Hafez. A member of the audience highlighted how Bassel had also inspired the work of Lebanese artist Tania El Khoury. 

Bassel’s life also inspired Homsi singer Wasfi Massarani, who performed live on stage Ma Kana ‘Andu Mushkila (He Had No Problem), the song he had composed for the slain filmmaker, in addition to a moving rendering of Mawtini (My Homeland), one of the most popular anthems of Pan-Arab liberation. 

A series of movies produced by Bassel was screened during the ceremony, which was held in Arabic. Merry Christmas, Homs is a realistic portrait of how a community gathers for a religious festivity in times of war, which prompts them to re-discover “the true meaning of Christmas”. While Christians celebrate in a church, Bassel follows around a group of local youth, who risk their lives by shouting at a Syrian army sniper: “Freedom forever despite you oh Assad!”

The second movie is Shawari’na (Our Streets), which we can watch only because, after his death, a technician was able to retrieve some of the footage Bassel had gathered in Homs. It waves narratives from activists and armed rebels, and defies preconceptions by reminding us how women in Duma, a conservative suburb of Damascus, took to the streets on their own for the first time. “Putting the revolution aside, the Syrian cinema lost a lot [with his death],” said al-Hafez. 

The Syrian regime went as far as preventing Bassel’s friends from organising a funeral for him, which is a testament to the importance of this first public commemoration of his death.

“The St. Cyrillus Church in Kassaa cancelled the funeral, [...] the claim was that they were pressured by regime officials. They started by putting up his obituary, and then they took it down and closed the doors. So the people who insisted on coming to pray stood in the courtyard of the church and became easy prey for the shabbiha [pro-regime thugs] that [...] beat them out,” recalled al-Hafez.

All churches refused to hold his mass, according to al-Hafez, only Deyr Mousa [the monastic community founded by Father Paolo Dall’Oglio] dared to organise the funeral, although it was not publicly announced. With few exceptions like Deyr Mousa, Syrian Christian institutions had indeed been reluctant to oppose the regime. 

Even smuggling Bassel’s body to Damascus from Homs, where it had been secretly buried, had been a very complex operation, explained Ziad Hilal, the priest with whom the filmmaker had been in touch in Homs. The body had been buried secretly in Damascus, but nothing was written on his tombstone, as Bassel’s family was afraid of being targeted by the regime. Only thirteen years later, shortly before the commemoration held at Beyt Farhi, relatives and friends were able to unveil a tombstone with Bassel’s name.

Towards the end of the event, the debate shifted towards the current situation in Syria, where religious and ethnic ‘minorities’ are particularly wary of the authoritarian traits of the Islamist-led government that took power after the ousting of the Assad regime on 8 December 2024. 

Commenting on Bassel’s legacy, a member of the audience emphasised that “minorities under Assad were being slapped twice instead of once,” when daring to oppose the regime - a reference to the price paid by dissidents when they challenged the image of the regime as a protector of ‘minorities’ against Sunni fundamentalism. In a not-too-veiled reference to the killing of hundreds of Alawi civilians at the hands of pro-government forces in March, activist Wafa Ali Mustafa launched a passionate appeal from the stage, emphasising how transitional justice should include “victims of all organisations, not only of the regime”. She added that the recently established commission for transitional justice should also look into the case of Father Paolo Dall’Oglio, who was kidnapped and most likely killed by the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant in 2013. The audience was left wondering what Bassel would have said of the current situation, and how he would have contributed to shaping a Syria without the Assads.

Speculations aside, commemorating publicly the legacy of Bassel Shahadeh is in itself an important achievement. “It is important to remember the lives of martyrs, because Assad wanted to turn everyone into numbers,” said Ali Mustafa. Her words echo the efforts being made to commemorate Palestinians killed by Israel in the ongoing genocide in Gaza.

It is perhaps not a coincidence that one of the first artworks of Bassel, released in 2009, was a song (Am Ahlam Bi Watani - I Am Dreaming Of My Homeland) he had composed and written for the children of Gaza. 

Andrea is The New Arab investigative editor. He is an Italian-British journalist, editor and researcher who has been covering Syria, Lebanon, Iraq and the Arab-majority Gulf since 2010. 

Follow him on X: @andreaglioti