Syrians struggle with soaring prices as crisis challenges post-Assad recovery

Syrians struggle with soaring prices as crisis challenges post-Assad recovery

Many Syrians say their economic situation has worsened over the past two years amid a cost-of-living crisis.

Last month, protests broke out in squares and streets across Syria. People burned tyres, blocked roads and chanted slogans, furious over the government’s decision to raise fuel prices again. It was the biggest display of anger yet since President Ahmed al-Sharaa took power two years ago.

Speaking on a Syrian TV channel, one man said he still backed the authorities, but his situation had worsened to the point that he could no longer afford bread. “Honestly,” another said, “we have begun to fear what kind of new decision each morning will bring”.

The price rise was the latest in a string of measures that people blame for a worsening cost-of-living crisis. For many Syrians, life has become harder financially since rebels led by Sharaa ousted President Bashar al-Assad, ending five decades of his family’s brutal rule and more than 13 years of devastating civil war.

Catapulted into the presidency, Sharaa has since led Syria’s transition and efforts to rebuild a shattered economy after years of mismanagement, isolation and conflict.

There was never any doubt this would be difficult. But as they celebrated Assad’s fall and their new freedoms, Syrians, perhaps unrealistically, hoped conditions would improve quickly. That has not happened, and the way the economy has been handled has frustrated many people.

From essential bills to basic goods, the cost of almost everything has risen. Many viewed the unexpected further increase in fuel prices as proof of a government out of touch with the country.

“We don’t want roundabouts. Every day they build a new roundabout. People stood by you and are still with you,” another protester said, addressing Sharaa, “but this will [make] things explode”.

Days later, amid calls for more demonstrations, the increase was reversed.

“We eat more sparingly now. We no longer buy chicken once a week,” Fatima Saleh Eid says

In a suburb of Damascus, I joined Fatima Saleh Eid at an open-air market for her weekly shopping. At 50, she works as a cleaner to help support her family.

“We’ve suffered a lot,” she said. Her husband had recently been hired by a ceramic factory after a year without work. He is among the fortunate ones, as many people are struggling to find jobs. On some streets, men gather in the hope of finding someone offering a day’s work; often, they wait in vain.

Since taking power, the government has cut long-standing subsidies as part of an austerity drive. The price of bread, a Syrian staple, has risen tenfold. Fuel prices are now aligned with the international average, putting pressure on farmers and making transport more expensive, while electricity costs have risen several hundred per cent for some.

In response, the authorities have adjusted public sector wages, including pensions; unsurprisingly, the extra pay has been wiped out as prices continue to climb.

“We eat more sparingly now. We can’t afford chicken anymore nor meat. We only eat vegetables but even [that is] expensive,” Fatima said. “Inshallah [God willing] things will get cheaper.”

As she spoke, about a dozen people of all ages gathered around us. No one disagreed. One elderly man also said he had stopped eating meat. Another, in his 20s, told me his family could no longer pay for his father’s medicine, as his father has a heart condition. One young woman said she and her four children could only afford a proper meal every two days.

Marwan Bashour, a 68-year-old pensioner, said his monthly pay was about $90 (£70), the public sector minimum wage. “It’s not enough at all,” he said.

The United Nations Development Programme said 90% of Syrians were in poverty last year.

Marwan explained how he managed to make ends meet.

“Sometimes I borrow money, sometimes I sell things from my house,” he said, “like an old pot or plates that we never used, gifts that were given to us. I’ve even had to sell furniture”.

There have been other pressures too. Like many Syrians, Marwan used to depend on aid agencies. But for him, that has ended, as organisations have been forced to cut services because of funding cuts.

Syria has also not been spared the impact of the US-Iran war. The government said the fuel increase that triggered the protests was partly due to pressure on energy markets because of the conflict.

I met another pensioner, Nabil al-Remhein, who is 63. None of his four adult children could find work. “We’re now having only one meal a day. It’s tragic,” he said. His face looked tired. “It isn’t only me. It’s the entire population. We’re all hungry... We’re suffocating under rising costs.”

Nabil took me to his home, in a poor area of narrow alleys and modest buildings. There, I met his wife. She was doing her chores in the dark.

“I’m afraid of the electricity bill,” Nabil said. “We’ve cut back on lighting up the house and we [also] turn off the fridge for about five hours a day”.

Even so, their latest bill was about a third of the family’s income. He has not paid it.

Dr Haid Haid, a Syrian columnist and consulting fellow at the London-based think tank Chatham House, said a “significant portion of the population” was worse off than before Assad’s fall.

The economic crisis, he told me, was “one of the most dangerous issues” for the government, and some of it was of its own making.

“Part of [the crisis] is related to the lack of [financial] resources and the legacy left by the former regime,” he said.

“But it’s also the direct impact of the new policies that are moving [Syria] towards a liberal and free-market sort of economy, which don’t take into account the impact on people”.

A spokesman for the Syrian economy and industry ministry told me no-one was available for an interview.

Sharaa has, of course, achieved some important gains.

International sanctions imposed in the Assad era have been lifted, and the US has removed the country from its list of state sponsors of terrorism.

Security remains volatile and a source of concern, but the country feels more stable.

And the president continues to consolidate his power and, earlier this year, retook the resource-rich north-east from a Kurdish-led militia. (The Druze still control areas in the south, where they want to create an autonomous state; Israel occupies parts of the south-west.)

But real economic recovery has yet to happen. Large parts of Syria remain in ruins after a war that killed half a million people and displaced half the population.

Unable to afford rent, many families live in partially destroyed buildings. The World Bank says reconstruction costs are estimated at $216bn and, without foreign help and investment, it will be impossible for Syrians to rebuild.

Samir Aita, a Syrian economist who heads the Circle of Arab Economists, a Paris-based independent think-tank, said the crisis was a “combination of policies with the [government] not managing expectations and creating unrealistic hopes”.

When I asked him how he felt about the future, he said: “It’s unsustainable. If they don’t change, I fear chaos.”

Exhausted after years of conflict, Syrians, left with almost no choice, remain hopeful.

Abu Mahmoud, a cab driver, told me: “They inherited the country bankrupt, so people need to be patient. Things don’t happen overnight.”