by Meredith Tax
Daesh Comes to Raqqa
In Bakr’s game plan, the first step in infiltrating a Syrian town was to open a Dawah office—a missionary center from which to proselytize. Using it as a base, Daesh operatives were to carefully assess the local people who came in and pick one or two to train as spies, telling them to gather information on the most powerful families in the town, their leaders, and the sources of their money. The spies were also instructed to find out everything about other militias in town and their political and religious orientation. Most important, they were told to look for anything the town elite or rebel leaders were doing that violated sharia law and could be used to blackmail or accuse them. Finally, the spies were told to find out which of the powerful families had marriageable daughters, whom some of the “brothers” could be assigned to marry, “to ensure penetration of these families without their knowledge.”41
And so it went in Raqqa, a relatively isolated city in central Syria, with a largely Sunni population variously estimated as 220,000 to 500,000.42 Raqqa fell not to Daesh, but to a coalition formed by the Syrian Islamic Front, an umbrella group of Islamist opposition militias. According to Matthew Barber, co-editor of the online journal, Syria Comment, the best organized and equipped militia in the Islamic Front was Ahrar al Sham, which took the lead in capturing Raqqa. Its emir, Abu Khalid al Suri, was an experienced fighter from Afghanistan and a highly respected commander linked to the Madrid and London bombings.43 Because he did not want Syrians to think that outsiders were attacking Raqqa, he set up a front group called Liwa Umana al-Raqqa (Brigade of the Trustees of Raqqa), whose fighters were all locals.44
On March 2, 2013, Ahrar al Sham led the Islamist coalition in driving Assad’s troops out of the city, capturing the governor and the head of the local Baath party. It seemed to have been an easy victory, possibly by prior arrangement, since regime forces manning the eastern checkpoint pulled out on the morning of the attack and at the same time, all the local members of Assad’s security service left the army base.45 They essentially handed the city’s entire eastern district over to Ahrar al Sham and its ally in the battle, Jabhat al-Nusra. Also in the coalition that took the city were militias who identified themselves as the Free Syrian Army, compounding, as Barber said, “the difficulty of distinguishing between Islamist and nationalist energies on the ground.” Although a small regime presence remained in the city, on March 5, Liwa Umana al-Raqqa, Ahrar al Sham’s front group, announced that it was in charge. Thus Islamism came to Raqqa wearing a familiar face.46
Raqqa had a brief flowering of democracy that spring: Doctors, lawyers, and journalists formed professional groups; women and youth organized. By the end of May, forty-two new civil society organizations had registered with the local government. A committee organized a propaganda campaign, “the revolutionary flag represents me,” in which artists painted flags all over city walls to challenge the black Islamist flags that were starting to crop up.47
Some of those Islamist flags had been planted by Ahrar Al Sham, others by Jabhat al-Nusra, which was strong and had a number of local members. The rebel forces also included a number of other militias, most affiliated with the Free Syrian Army (FSA) and supported by Saudis or Qataris, such as Ahfad al-Rasoul, which means “Descendants of the Prophet.”48
But under the radar, Haji Bakr’s Daesh operatives had quietly infiltrated the city, where they set up a Dawah center according to plan, selected their spies, and went to work. They had competition from al-Nusra at first, but the public dispute between Daesh and al Qaeda broke out just a month after the fall of Raqqa, and when Zawahiri told the two groups to keep away from each other, al-Nusra withdrew and set up a new base 53 kilometers west of the city. Ahrar al Sham also pulled most of its people out of Raqqa and sent its main force north, where it seized the city of Tal Abyad and the border crossing with Turkey, expelling the local Kurds and Armenians.49
Once it had uncontested control of Ragga, Daesh began to eliminate anyone who might oppose its rule, starting with secularists and civil society activists. In May 2013, the head of the city council was kidnapped by men in ski masks. Next, the brother of a prominent writer disappeared, then the leader of the artists’ group that had painted the revolutionary flags on city walls. People became afraid. On May 14, Daesh executed three Alawites in a public square, saying they were spies for the regime. After that, according to the Lebanese daily al-Akhbar, “the secular peaceful protest movement began to gradually wither, at least in the public sphere. Though activists called for peaceful protests to reject violence, their efforts did not pan out, especially as many activists were arrested.”50
Increasingly threatened, civil society organizations appealed to other militias for protection. They distributed leaflets against Daesh and called on the Free Syrian Army brigades that remained in the city to do something.51 In response, the FSA’s more moderate militias announced they were forming an alliance to protect the people, the September 11th Division. They claimed their members comprised eighty percent of the combat-ready forces in the city.52
That year Ramadan began on July 8, and Father Paolo Dall’Oglio came to Raqqa to celebrate with his Muslim friends. An Italian Jesuit priest and lifetime proponent of Muslim-Christian understanding who fasted every Ramadan, Father Paolo had lived in Syria since the 1970s. After siding with the revolution against Assad, he was kicked out of the country, but he snuck back in. He told his friends in Raqqa that while he was there, he would be negotiating with Daesh on behalf of people who had been kidnapped.53
On July 29, he took part in a civil society demonstration organized by youth groups. He visited the Daesh headquarters in Raqqa that same afternoon and emerged in high spirits, telling his friends he was leaving for a few days to meet Baghdadi.
He never returned.
His old friend Souad Nawfal, a middle-aged schoolteacher and civil society activist, decided she had to do something. “I started demonstrating because they took Father Paolo,” she told a reporter. “He used to come to break the fast at Ramadan in my house. He was coming to speak out against ISIS. He wanted to stop the killings and secrecy, all the stuff the regime does. He went in to speak to ISIS but he never came out.”54
Defying the pleas of her family, and wearing a hijab (headscarf) and slacks despite the Daesh dress code, which mandated several layers of black niqab, a black head-to-toe garment that covers the face as well, Nawfal stood outside the Daesh headquarters every day. She held handmade protest signs with slogans such as, “Muslims spilling the blood of Muslims are sinners,” or “Our enemy is the criminal regime, not the people.”55 She told a reporter, “Apostate, laywoman, infidel: This is how ISIS members described me while poking me with their guns as I took part in protests. I did not fear them, I used to tell them they are the regime’s men with a beard and mask.”56
It was strictly forbidden for Raqqa civilians to take photos in the streets or record “provocative” behavior in any way. Offenders were beaten with leather straps or taken into custody. Nevertheless, a four-minute video of Souad Nawfal criticizing both Assad and Daesh began to circulate on the internet, titled “The Woman in Pants.”57 Wearing a striped blouse and pink hijab Nawfal spoke directly to the camera:
“What bothers people from the ‘Islamic State’ most are the pants. They can’t imagine that I’m wearing pants. ‘If you want to come out and demonstrate, sister, at least put on some decent clothes.’ To them . . . my clothes don’t fit with the religion. But that’s how I dress at home. And I’ve been dressing like this for 30 years. . . . ‘I don’t ask you about being dressed in the Afghan way! I don’t ask you why you’re sporting a beard! I don’t ask why you’re wearing a mask!’ How can pants be sinful and not the mask? . . . Masked people, they’re up to no good in this area. They kidnap, they steal, they arrest. And no one can complain or anything because we don’t know who they are.”58
Ramadan ended on August 7. Almost immediately, Daesh attacked the largest and least doctrinaire brigade in the Free Sy
rian Army that remained in Raqqa.59 The battle lasted days and many civilians died. On August 13, 2013, Daesh sent suicide bombers driving three cars loaded with explosives to the headquarters of the brigade, known as the Descendants of the Prophet. The whole building came down. Dozens of fighters were killed and the rest fled. Civilians were not allowed to tend the wounded or even remove the bodies. The other brigades in the FSA looked on and did nothing because Daesh had made deals and played one off against the other. Survivors from the brigade were either arrested or left Raqqa, while its commander for the whole of Syria said he wouldn’t retaliate because of the need to preserve unity against Assad.60
A month later, on September 12, Jabhat al-Nusra, the al Qaeda affiliate, returned to Raqqa. Immediately upon the return of al-Nusra, the FSA militias in Raqqa self-destructed and everybody became an Islamist. Some fighters rushed to join al-Nusra; others went over to Daesh or Ahrar al-Sham. “There is no such thing as the FSA [here]. We are all al Qaeda now,” said a top rebel commander in Raqqa Province. “Half of the FSA has been devoured by ISIS, and the other half joined Jabhat al-Nusra.” He pointed out that at least al-Nusra was fighting Assad, unlike Daesh. Many locals considered al-Nusra the lesser of two evils, saying they were mostly Syrian, not foreigners.61
But Jabhat al-Nusra did not last more than a few days in Raqqa. Its emir was kidnapped by Daesh and his car was found in Aleppo, with the explosive belt he always wore inside. On September 15, al-Nusra pulled out of Raqqa for the second time, vacating the governate, a large fancy building in the center of town. Daesh took it over and put up large signs on all the entrances saying, “The Islamic State of Iraq and Syria—Raqqa Province.”62
Now in full control, Daesh tightened its stranglehold on the civilian population. It made new rules which segregated boys and girls at school; established sharia courts; set up a Daesh police force; banned smoking; promulgated an even stricter dress code for women; drove minorities out of the city; prevented everyone else from leaving; and arrested foreign aid workers, journalists, and anyone whom they could accuse of un-Islamic activities, including commanders of other militias.63 The new rules included strict punishments, such as the loss of a hand for stealing. Punishments for rebellion or dissidence included beheading and crucifixion in the public square.
But the same harshness that had driven Iraqi tribesmen away from Zarqawi was now alienating Syrians. As Daesh solidified its hold in Syria, its kidnappings, murders, floggings, and bans on smoking and music became increasingly unpopular in the areas it controlled. In January 2014, revolts broke out in various provinces, aided by Jabhat al-Nusra and other militias. These led to Daesh’s final split with al Qaeda. Zawahiri cut all ties, criticizing Baghdadi’s lack of consultation and intransigence. “Clearly, Zawahiri believes that ISIS is a liability to the al-Qaeda brand,” said Aaron Zelin of the Washington Institute, a US think tank.64
Raheb Alwany, a doctor who managed to get to the UK from Raqqa, told a reporter, “In Raqqa, when we were growing up, you could wear what you liked. People there always wanted to enjoy themselves—they loved going out with friends, people would fish or swim in the river.” But all that changed when Daesh took control. “Women couldn’t go out without being covered in black abayas and niqabs—even their hands. . . . I was the only woman working full time in the hospital, but they made it impossible for me.”65
Daesh also began to attack churches, removing their crosses and replacing them with the black Islamist flag. When it burned the Sayidat al-Bishara Catholic Church on September 25, several dozen people came out to protest, among them Souad Nawfal. She told other demonstrators it was pointless to protest at the church. They had to go to Daesh headquarters, she said, and proceeded to lead them there. But by the time she arrived at headquarters, she was alone. Everyone else had dropped off along the way.
When Daesh attacked another church the next day, Nawfal went directly to headquarters with her sister Rimal. As usual she had a homemade sign. This time it said, “Forgive me.” The message was meant for her family because she was sure she had reached the end of the road and would either be killed or kidnapped.66
“They ran after us and stopped us,” she said. “My sister Rimal was crying and screaming, grabbing onto the barrel of the militiaman’s gun as he screamed, ‘You’re as good as dead, you infidel, you collaborator,’ . . . Rimal cried and begged them to leave me alone as the bullets rained down. I had no idea whether they were shooting at me or into the air.”67
On October 23, 2013, Daesh invited local notables and religious leaders to a public meeting to discuss their policies. Two men dared to complain about all the killings. One of them, Muhannad Habayebna, a media activist, was found a few days later at the edge of the city, with his hands tied and a bullet through his head. Other civil society advocates received a picture of his corpse on their mobile phones with a text that said, “Are you sad now about your friend?” That night, twenty of the people who had led the democratic revolution in Raqqa fled to Urfa, across the border in Turkey.68
By this time, Souad Nawfal was so scared she moved houses every night. She told a reporter, “I love Syria, and my soul is here. We didn’t start the revolution so that we can up and leave, but when it gets to the point where they’re going to kill my whole family and I am the reason why, I would leave my mother but I will never forget her. And my mother stays inside my soul until she is free. And my mother is Syria.”69
Nawfal managed to escape to Turkey that December, and later to Europe.70
In March 2014, a year after the takeover of Raqqa, Daesh captured Mosul, adding a big piece of Iraq to the area they already controlled in Syria. On June 29, they announced that these conquests meant that the caliphate had been restored, with Baghdadi as its caliph and “the leader of Muslims everywhere.” In an audio recording, spokesman Abu Mohamed al-Adnani said, “The legality of all emirates, groups, states, and organisations becomes null by the expansion of the caliph’s authority and the arrival of its troops to their areas. . . . Listen to your caliph and obey him. Support your state, which grows every day.”71
This was a direct challenge not only to the West but to al Qaeda. The dream of all jihadis was a caliphate, an empire of their own. Now Daesh was saying it could not only conquer territory but hold and administer a state. Because the caliph is the leader of all Islamists, all other jihadis, including the members of al Qaeda, were thus being told they had to swear allegiance to Abu Baker al-Baghdadi—the first caliph since the end of the Ottoman Empire.72
The effects on al Qaeda were devastating. Jabhat al-Nusra lost so many fighters that two of its spiritual leaders told The Guardian al Qaeda was washed up in Iraq and Syria.73 By founding a caliphate, Daesh had made itself the only game in town. In well-made videos and incessant posts on social media, they carefully defined their international image as a ferocious, seemingly invincible inspiration to Islamists from Nigeria to Pakistan. No alternate versions of their reality were to be tolerated.
Abdel Aziz al-Hamz, a former biology student from Raqqa, now a citizen journalist, told David Remnick of The New Yorker, “If you Googled ‘Raqqa’ in those early days you got their material first and only. . . . So that was one reason why a lot of foreign fighters emigrated. And this is why we began.”74
In April 2014, after the first crucifixions in Raqqa, he and other young media activists who had fled to Urfa decided to start a website called “Raqqa is Being Slaughtered Silently.” Working anonymously with reports and films from friends who had remained in the city, RBSS got the news out to the international media, which came to rely on it as the only solid source of information about what was going on in Raqqa under Daesh rule.
The Committee to Protect Journalists gave RBSS an award in 2015, saying, “Since its inception, RBSS has publicized public lashings, crucifixions, beheadings, and draconian social rules, thus providing the world with a counter-narrative to Islamic State’s slickly produced version of events. . . . While RBSS was formed to document the atrocities o
f Islamic State, its members have also reported critically on the Assad government’s bombings, other rebel forces, and civilian casualties caused by US-led airstrikes. The group has established itself as a credible source among Syria monitors and journalists globally.”75
As soon as it surfaced, Daesh declared Raqqa Is Being Slaughtered Silently an enemy of God. Members of the group were risking their lives to get information out, as the Committee to Protect Journalists said in its award: “Al-Moutaz Bellah Ibrahim [a member of RBSS] was kidnapped by Islamic State and murdered in May 2014. In July 2015, Islamic State released a highly produced video, showing two men saying they worked for RBSS. The men are then strung up on trees and shot.”76
Being in Turkey was no guarantee of safety, since Turkish intelligence gave Daesh freedom to operate there. On October 30, 2015, Ibrahim Abd al Qader, twenty years old and a founder of the RBSS collective, was found dead in his Urfa apartment together with his friend Fares Hamadi, 19, a journalist with another Syrian media collective. Both had been shot and then beheaded.77 Filmmaker and journalist Naji Jerf was shot in broad daylight on December 27, 2015 in the Turkish city of Gazientep, the day before he was to leave for France with his wife and two children.78 He had made a documentary about Raqqa is Being Slaughtered Silently and had recently aired another film, widely watched on YouTube, about Daesh killings of Syrian activists in Aleppo.79
Ruqia Hassan, a graduate in philosophy from the University of Aleppo, became a citizen journalist also. She was from a Kurdish family who left Raqqa when fighting broke out between al-Nusra and the Free Syrian Army militias, but she and other members of her family returned after a few months to protect their businesses in Raqqa. Hassan had no media outlets, but stuck inside the house month after month, growing more desperate and furious, she began to write a Facebook blog and post pictures of herself, along with sarcastic remarks about Raqqa daily life, using the name Nissan Ibrahim. Her blog focused on Daesh oppression and bombing raids by the Assad regime and its Russian ally: “People in the market crash into each other like waves,” she noted, “not because of the numbers . . . but because their eyes are glued to the skies . . . their feet are moving unconsciously.”80