On the second floor of the Shababeek cafe, overlooking the clock tower square in the city of Idlib, the side reserved for men was empty except for two young men nursing cups of Turkish coffee. The family side, where women are allowed, was nearly full.
There was no music – just the hiss of an espresso machine and the clinking of cups – and unlike cafes elsewhere in Syria, the air was clear of hookah smoke. That is because of an agreement the owner had to sign with Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, the Islamist group that has ruled for years in much of Idlib province, in northwestern Syria, and which now controls most of the country with other rebel factions.
“Hookahs and music were banned from the beginning,” said Yahia Naeme, the owner of the cafe, who said the ban had lost him business because many people used to come to his cafe specifically to smoke hookahs. “If we can’t offer it, they’ll get bored and go elsewhere,” he said.
Other cafes in Idlib have skirted the law by offering hookahs in speakeasy-type environments behind closed doors. But Naeme did not want to risk running afoul of the area’s rulers.
The bans on hookahs and music at cafes were part of a few religious laws initially imposed on Idlib by Hayat Tahrir al-Sham when it took power there in 2017, which also included attempts to impose a stricter dress code for women and a ban on the sale and purchase of alcohol.
The group has ruled Idlib with an authoritarian hand, imprisoning and torturing some critics, according to residents and human rights groups. But even those who chafe under its rule say Hayat Tahrir al-Sham has been pragmatic and shown flexibility.
The group has brought order to a devastated region, and reversed some laws after a backlash from residents. Early on, for instance, a morality police patrolled streets and government buildings, but that practice was later ended. It also did not adopt the brutal methods of extremist groups like the Islamic State group, which sometimes punished people with public executions, instead imposing mainly fines for people breaking laws.
It has also been desperate to shed its image as a group once affiliated with al-Qaeda. Despite that and attempts to gain international legitimacy, the group is still designated as a terrorist organisation by the United States and the United Nations.
In Idlib, Hayat Tahrir al-Sham has sought to win over hearts and minds and prove its governing credentials by undertaking public works. It has paved roads, provided regular running water and electricity, and repaired war damage – things that are lacking in the rest of Syria.
Traffic police officers direct busy intersections and roundabouts while street cleaners keep the roads clean. Homes, apartments and even the tents of people displaced by war have been numbered in a project to assign addresses to millions of residents.
Next to the stencilled-on address numbers hang bright green electricity meters – with the power coming from Turkey. That starkly contrasts with areas of Syria that were until recently under the control of the Assad government, where residents mostly rely on generators for power.
After consolidating control over Idlib province by attacking other rebel groups, Hayat Tahrir al-Sham brought order to a chaotic region. It has also enjoyed a reputation for avoiding corruption, a relief for many in a country where the government ran on bribes and connections.
For now, there is excitement – and a bit of apprehension – about what comes next. Even some of the group’s critics are waiting to see how it evolves and grows to manage a whole country, one that is more diverse and less conservative than Idlib.
In a display case at the Shababeek cafe is a new offering: caramel layer cake with icing in the colours of the changed Syrian flag.
That flag now decorates much of the city, along with reminders to the population about who has provided their public services up to now.
On Friday, after weekly prayers, couples, families and young men in camouflage – a few carrying Kalashnikovs – descended on a central roundabout to celebrate the overthrow of the Assad regime.
In a small park in the centre was a plaque installed by the Hayat Tahrir al-Sham government: “Renovation of the Seven Seas Roundabout and the area around it – 2021.”
The roundabout was also the scene months earlier of demonstrations against the group’s administration by hundreds of residents, one of many protests that took place across Idlib province.
They were protesting the imprisonment and torture of critics and the imposition of taxes that have been a heavy burden for many residents, according to Syrians for Truth and Justice, a human rights advocacy group.
Muhammad Ali Basha (30), a rebel fighter and resident of Binnish, a town in Idlib province, said he had participated in some of the protests. “Security-wise, we saw that their behaviour was starting to resemble the behaviour of the Assad regime,” he said in his house, adding that Hayat Tahrir al-Sham and its security arm would raid homes without notice.
On a dresser next to him were three guns – two AK-47s and a handgun – a Syrian flag and a slew of gold decorative butterflies, positioned like a shrine.
In some cases, Hayat Tahrir al-Sham responded to the protests with force, according to Syrians for Truth and Justice.
The rebel group has denied taking harsh action against residents of Idlib during the protests.
“When people say there was a violent response, no there was not,” Ahmad al-Sharaa, the group’s leader, formerly known by his nom de guerre, Abu Mohammed al-Jolani, said in an interview with the New York Times. “There was a response to some people who were destroying people’s properties.”
He conceded that some of the calls of the protesters were valid, in that certain laws were putting undue economic pressure on residents. “We remedied these and appeased a large part of the population,” he said.
Custom taxes, which were imposed on people coming from other parts of Syria, were done away with, residents said.
Residents and human rights groups also say that repression against critics has relented in recent months following the protests.
The experiences of Muna Armanazi (63), the principal of a private school in the city of Idlib, underline the mixed feelings many residents have about the rebel group.
On a residential street on Saturday, Armanazi was overseeing workers repairing and rebuilding walls and classrooms damaged in one of the last air strikes carried out by the Syrian regime before its overthrow. The strikes also killed two people, she said.
In the days after the strike, Armanazi went to the city’s public works ministry to ask for help rebuilding the damage to her school. She was told to bring the receipts for the damage and that the government would help cover it, she said.
“The institutions are working well,” she said, even if she was sometimes frustrated with how slowly things happened. “Their social services are good.”
“But,” she added, “in the beginning, when they first came, there was chaos.”
She cited the hardline religious stance initially taken and later dropped by the group, including trying to force women to wear face coverings.
Armanazi, as an observant Muslim, wears a white hijab, a headscarf that leaves her face uncovered, and an ankle-length black robe outdoors. But her clothing was not conservative enough for members of the group, she said.
Once, as she was walking down the street, she passed a Hayat Tahrir al-Sham fighter. He chided her for how she was dressed – “Fear God, sister,” she said he told her.
“I said, ‘You fear God and lower your gaze and keep walking,’” she recalled saying defiantly back to him. But he did not respond further.
Before they were disbanded a few years ago, the morality police would not only harass women but also men with tattoos, said Salwa Jabaan (51), a journalist with various local media, including the Aleppo Today TV channel. “They were interfering in every part of our lives,” said Jabaan, who also took part in some of the protests against the rebel administration.
There had been some efforts in the past to revive the morality police, she said. But those efforts were abandoned after opposition from women and as the group began to evolve. Now she sees an even more drastic evolution in the group and in al-Sharaa, its leader, as they seek greater international legitimacy.
“Things have changed a lot over the past few years,” Jabaan said. – This article originally appeared in The New York Times.
