This is a book chapter I wrote as part of the book “Beyond Molotovs: A Visual Handbook of Anti-Authoritarian Strategies” edited by the International Research Group on Authoritarianism and Counter-Strategies kollektiv orangotango and published by MIT Press. You can buy the book here, and it is also available as a free OpenAccess publication.
On December 30th 2011, surrounded by thousands of Syrian protesters in Homs’ Clock Tower Square, an ex-goalkeeper called Abdul Baset al-Sarout lead the crowd in chanting one of the region’s most famous songs. It goes like this:
“Heaven, heaven, oh our homeland [is heaven]”
جنة جنة جنة والله يا وطنّا
“Oh homeland, oh beloved, oh good soil, even your fire is heaven.”
يا وطن يا حبيّب يابو تراب الطيب حتى نارك جنة
By the time he was killed in combat in June of 2019, al-Sarout had led hundreds of chants at protests throughout the country, especially in his native Homs.
In another protest, this time in Hama just a few days later on January 3rd 2012, Ibrahim Qashoush led the crowd to sing the following:
“They lost their mind, they lost their mind, the Baathists lost their mind when we demanded freedom.”
جنو جنو البعثية لما طلبنا الحرية
Qashoush and his musical co-conspirators changed the term “heaven” (janna) to “they lost their mind” (jannou). As it happens, “Baathists” (Baathyyeh), a reference to the ruling Baath party in Syria since 1970, rhymes with both freedom (Hurryeh) and thiefs (Haramyyeh), so the rest of the chorus goes like this:
“Curse your soul Abou Hafez [Bashar Al-Assad], you son of thiefs.”
يلعن روحك أبو حافظ يا إبن الحرامية
Every verse is followed by a repeat of the chorus: Baathyyeh (Baathists) and Haramyyeh (thiefs), with Hurryeh (freedom) stubbornly inserting itself between the two.
Cross-border co-conspirators
Since the 2011 Arab Spring, we’ve seen a creative outburst of Arabic (and Kurdish) chants and songs, particularly from Syria, crossing the region’s colonial borders into neighboring Lebanon and Israel-Palestine.
So deep has the impact been that by the time large-scale protests happened in Lebanon (2019) and Israel-Palestine (2021) Lebanese and Palestinian protesters took some of them up, adapted them to their local contexts, and spread them on the streets and the internet.
Take the example of ‘yalla erhal ya Bashar’ (hurry up, leave Bashar [Al-Assad]), also by Qashoush. Here he is leading a crowd of protesters in Hama singing it on June 27th 2011.
‘Yalla erhal ya Bashar’ has since been adapted by protesters throughout the region and beyond, notably in Lebanon. During the latter’s 2019 October revolution, protesters adapted the ‘ya Bashar’ to the various warlords and oligarchs ruling Lebanon, such as Nasrallah, Hariri, Aoun, Berri, Jumblatt, Geagea, Bassil, Sinioura and more. There are multiple versions of it, perhaps the most iconic one being the one sung by Lebanese diaspora protesters in Paris on November 17th 2019 where most of the major politicians were named.
A group of feminists even went beyond the specific Lebanese context and adopted the tune to create “revolution everywhere”, converting the “ya/lla/er/hal/ya/ba/shar” into “thaw/ra/bi/kel/el/belden” (literally: “revolution in all of the countries”).
In addition to listing Arab-majority countries such as Iraq, Sudan, Saudi Arabia, Algeria, Egypt, Yemen, Bahrain, Syria and Palestine, they also listed Hong Kong, Iran and Chile as places engaged in struggle. At the time of the chant, not all countries were engaged in active struggle but all were and are countries that have the potential for active struggle because of their own respective history of such movements. In other words, even though the countries weren’t all ‘relevant’ to the song, these feminists created a bond in such a way as to say ‘we are waiting for you’ to the others: “We know that you will one day engage in struggle (again).”
As it happens, when Palestinians took to the streets against Israeli violence in May of 2021, some of them returned another Lebanese chant in kind. This one in Haifa was ‘Hela Hela Ho’, first sung in Beirut against the Lebanese politician Gebran Bassil, and adopted in Haifa against Mahmoud Abbas, leader of the Palestinian Authority and a figure widely seen as complicit in the Israeli occupation.
This chant is simple and purposefully vulgar, a way of showing complete disrespect to figures who constantly demand to be respected: “Hela Hela, Hela Hela Ho, Fuck [Name]. Literally: ‘fuck his mother’ (the ‘Emmo’ [His mother] rhymes with the ‘Ho’ sound).
Palestinian refugees in Lebanon were actually the first to use the ‘Hela Hela Ho’ song against Mahmoud Abbas in 2019 (here it is written on a sign), in addition to joining in the ones against Lebanese politicians as well. In other words, Palestinians across the Israel-Palestine/Lebanon border, the one preventing their right of return, saw value in a chant and used it against both Lebanese and Palestinian politicians.
Palestinians have also been singing al-Sarout’s ‘Heaven, heaven, oh our homeland’ song for the past decade, most recently in May of 2021.
Protesters in Lebanon also adapted the Syrian chant “hur hur hurryeh” (free, free, freedom) to their local context. The english translation goes something like this:
“free- free- freedom, we will reach our freedom. Despite you oh [name], we will reach our freedom.”
حر، حر، حرية، نحنا بدنا حرية، غصبا عنك يا بشار، رح نحصل عالحرية
In Syria, they would of course name Bashar Al-Assad. In Lebanon, the main oligarchs and warlords listed before are named instead.
One example would be this group of protesters in Beirut in October of 2019 (here is part 2). As I was present, I can describe the mood as that of euphoria, as if we had finally managed to break the taboo of ‘respectability’ against our politicians.
Finally, no overview of regional anti-government chants would be complete without mentioning the most famous of them all:
“the people want the downfall of the regime.”
الشعب يريد إسقاط النظام
It was first chanted in Tunisia and Egypt and then spread throughout the region. As recently as 2019 (Lebanon, Iraq, Sudan, Algeria) and 2021 (Israel-Palestine), we continue to hear it chanted.
In Lebanon, we saw the chant adopted to the country’s local context, with ‘the regime’ (which was also used many times) replaced with ‘sectarianism’, a reference to the country’s confessional political system widely seen as a major source of corruption. In Israel-Palestine, we saw protesters in front of Jerusalem’s Al-Aqsa mosque replace ‘the regime’ with ‘the president’ [Mahmoud Abbas].
Given that most of the region continues to be comprised of brutal military dictatorships and/or monarchies, we are likely to continue hearing it for years to come.
Conclusion
Chants are often overlooked as nothing more than that. In Syria, there is even a term for the Assad regime’s (pre-2011) policy of occasionally letting some critical voices reach a wider audience: tanfis. In the words of Shareah Taleghani, author of ‘Readings in Syrian Prison Literature: The Poetics of Human Rights’, tanfis could be understood as like a ‘safety valve’ which “preserves the hegemony of a repressive regime by allowing the venting of frustrations that might otherwise be translated into oppositional political action.”
Dismissing the importance of chants, therefore, risks reinforcing the structures which uphold authoritarian regimes such as the Assad’s in Syria. To put it differently, ignoring these chants is akin to accepting the logic of tanfis: they are there to let some steam out, but nothing more.
Instead, it is important to recognize that these chants, alongside visual creations such as protest signs, memes, music videos and so on, are often the only remaining actions of unarmed resistance.
To quote a song performed in February of 2012 in Da’el: Even if he [Assad], wants to kill thousands with a Shilka [Soviet-era tank] or an AK47, even if he becomes Muammar Gaddafi, we will liberate Syria.’
By then, the Assad regime had already declared war on Homs and started obliterating neighborhood after neighborhood starting from Baba Amr. Protesters in Da’el referenced this by singing: “Baba Amr bleeds and the massacres are a daily occurrence, and the world does not care. Where is Arab chivalry? The [United Nations] security council, deaf to our cries, did not hear the million-man march. Tell us how many it will cost; we want to liberate Syria!”
In this song, as with many that preceded and followed it throughout the country, protesters are referencing existing realities. They evidently know what’s happening around them, and are responding with death-defying chants celebrating life, solidarity and revolution.
At the time of writing, a decade after the 2011 Syrian revolution started, and several years into its ongoing destruction, these chants are the most powerful remnants of a time which was not allowed to survive.