27-05-2025
'Syria will be back': Veteran war reporter sends message of hope during Dubai summit
'There are so many stories that were never told, not because they weren't lived, but because social media platforms silenced them,' said Syrian war correspondent Mohamed Belaas during a moving session at the Arab Media Summit. 'We were not only at war with regimes. We were at war with platforms that actively fought our cause.'
For Belaas, the battle to report the truth extended far beyond frontline danger. It was also a daily struggle against digital suppression, where footage and testimonies were lost to algorithmic filters and political censorship.
But Belaas never stopped reporting. For over 14 years, he braved bombardments, displacement, and personal loss to ensure the voices of the besieged, the grieving, and the forgotten were heard.
'Imagine a camp where tents are one meter apart, and ten people sleep in each one. Neighbours hear each other's tears through thin canvas,' he said. 'In one of those tents, I met an 11-year-old boy, the eldest among his siblings. He cried because he couldn't feed them. He cried because his dream was just a tent that could protect them from the rain.'
That encounter, he said, remained etched in his mind. 'That child had to grow up faster than any child should. And as journalists, we are witnesses to that grief. We don't just report on war, we live inside it.'
Belaas spoke candidly about the emotional toll that comes with telling these stories. He recalled a moment during a Russian-Iranian advance on Idlib, where he was certain he would die. 'Twelve or thirteen jets were bombing the area outside Hama Town. Our car was destroyed. All my colleagues were killed. I remember fasting, it was Ramadan, and thinking, I will die a martyr while still fasting.'
In a moment of raw vulnerability, he revealed how he recorded a farewell video to his mother. 'She had begged me not to join the revolution. But I believed in the cause. I told her, 'Forgive me. God chose this path for me.'' He also addressed his young daughter, Asala, named after the Syrian singer Asala Nasri. 'I couldn't say goodbye to her. It was too hard. I just told her: 'I'm going far away, but I'll come back.''
Miraculously, he survived. A man watching from afar saw him crawl out of rubble, covered in white dust. 'He looked at me in disbelief. He said, 'You were in there? It's impossible you survived.' I said, 'It's God's will.''
Even after such close brushes with death, Belaas never considered leaving. He rejected multiple offers for refuge abroad. 'Every time I had a chance to leave, I remembered the mother who once pleaded with me: 'Don't forget us.' That voice kept me going.'
He spoke of journalists who endured similar risks, driven by the belief that their people's suffering must be known. 'You cannot survive 14 years in a war zone unless you are convinced the people are oppressed, and that your duty is to be their voice.'
Despite the trauma, Belaas concluded with a message of hope for journalism, for Syria, and for the Arab world. 'When I see the beauty of cities like Dubai, I wonder how Syria reached this state. But I believe, deeply, that Syria will be back. Stronger...A thousand times stronger.'
