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Syria’s protest movement is far from uniform, and divisions are becoming apparent as it gathers momentum It was an episode that at any other time in Syria’s history might have gone unnoticed. A month ago, a group of Syrian children, aged between 10 and 13, daubed anti-regime graffiti on a wall in a dusty town near the Jordan border. The security forces made some arrests. Relatives of the children protested. They were insulted and beaten. Syrians have become used to this kind of brutality during the 11-year rule of Bashar al-Assad. But amid the revolt sweeping the Arab world, the incident quickly turned explosive. “It was unintentional,” said Omar, 29, who identified himself as a family friend of the children in the original protest. “They saw on television Egypt and Tunisia and copied it.” In the month since then, protests have swirled around Syria, raising questions about the durability of the Assad regime. A rally in Deraa ended with six people being killed by security forces. The movement spread to other areas – Homs, the Damascus suburb Douma, Aleppo and Latakia in the north, Banias on the coast. Every time the security services tried to quash the protests, it merely provoked more unrest. The number of protests has increased ever since, as has the death toll, which is now estimated at more than 200. Assad has tried waving threadbare olive branches: on Thursday he offered a prisoner release and appointed a new cabinet. But on Friday security forces used teargas to prevent thousands of protesters from marching towards Damascus’s main Abbasside Square, while thousands once again took to the streets in a number of towns and cities from Deraa to Banias. “We have always felt repression and lack of dignity but felt scared to do anything. Deraa changed that,” said Mohammed, a 22-year-old student from the Damascus suburb of Madamiya where early on protests spilled out of mosques in solidarity with the “martyrs” of Deraa. So who are the forces ranged against the Syrian president and can they follow the example of Tunisia and Egypt in ridding the region of another despot? As in Egypt and Tunisia, latent anger has been simmering for years in Syria over a lack of jobs, corruption and nepotism and political repression at the hands of unaccountable security services. Over the past three years prices have shot up, adding to economic woes, while a burgeoning youth population connected to the world through television and the internet has seen life outside. “The killing of people caused something to snap,” said Mohammed. “As soon as I chanted for freedom and Deraa I felt like a human being for the first time in my life.” People like Mohammed form the majority of the protest movement – apolitical, informed, frustrated, mostly between 20 and 40 and largely male. There is much to complain about: a poor education system that fails to equip them for the job market, the nepotism and cronyism that disqualifies them from many opportunities, an inability to marry because they cannot afford a house. Women have been less visible, though this week they turned out in their hundreds to call for the release of men rounded up in Beida. “We no longer trust the president,” said one of the women, who did not want to be named. “We lack freedoms and corruption is everywhere, and the youths have demonstrated to address these issues peacefully. They [the security forces] faced them with fire.” She pointed out that her brother was summoned by the Syrian intelligence 30 years ago and has never returned home. “We do not know if he’s dead or alive,” she said. This cohort has been bolstered by a small but budding group of lawyers, artists and aid workers engaged in social activism; teaching Iraqi refugees or taking food to victims of Syria’s drought. “I have long been trying to organise protests,” said one activist and former NGO worker in Damascus, who is subject to a travel ban, one of the Assad regime’s tools of repression. “But until now people have been too scared – Egypt, Tunisia and Libya gave us inspiration whilst the killings caused anger to outweigh fear.” Activists like him have helped to organise further protests through a series of secret chatrooms online, and others such as Razan Zeitouneh and Wissam Tarif, two outspoken human rights activists who unusually go by their real names, seek to document the violence and garner media attention. In the last fortnight, members of the Damascus Declaration, a grouping of liberal and Islamist activists, have thrown their weight behind the protesters. The movement is far from uniform, and divisions are becoming apparent as it grows. Calls for toppling Assad and defacing billboards of him are on the rise, but some protesters have specific demands. In Douma, some have called for the release of political prisoners and an end to shootings, while Mohammed says he wants “freedom” but is not yet sure what that means – “If good reforms are made, that may be enough.” And it would be wrong to say the movement is rampant or widespread. It may count many tens of thousands of supporters. But Syria is a country of more than 20 million people. And there may be as many Assad loyalists as there are protesters, people who through genuine admiration or fear of the alternative support the president. Despite protesters from the Sunni majority being joined by some Kurds, Christians and reportedly Alawites from Assad’s minority sect, they and many other Sunnis fear the rise of conservative Islam if Syria’s secular state were to fall. Others look to Iraq and Lebanon as a forewarning. “We may not agree with everything, but the president has kept it safe for us,” said one Christian in Damascus’s Old City. A young female Muslim added: “He is young and understands us and is struggling against a regime he unintentionally inherited from his father.” Amid a standoff between protesters and the government, what comes next will depend on the large silent majority, including Sunni businessmen and religious figures. Almost all have the same aspirations to a life with dignity and without repression and for a chance to have more control over their lives and their country. “I changed my mind after the speech he [Assad] gave,” said Abdullah, a 30-year-old office worker who described himself as previously neutral. “I am thinking of joining the protest because I don’t think he will – or even can – make changes.” Kurds turned out to rally last week despite Assad’s move to grant citizenship to tens of thousands of stateless Kurds. But others say protesting is not the way. “Protests have not been about people changing their opinions but breaking the shackles stopping them from expressing them,” said Ahmed, a 20-year-old from the impoverished eastern region. “I feel the same but I want to study and change things peacefully.” Assad can fall back on a regime apparatus that, despite occasional reports of reluctance by army conscripts to open fire on protesters, is loyal. The family has populated the upper echelons of the military and intelligence with Alawites who fear persecution if a Sunni majority takes hold. There are also Sunni loyalists in the regime who through a system of carefully doled out benefits are discouraged from leaving Assad’s side. Each time they take to the streets, Syria’s protesters know they have a hard battle ahead with an unpredictable end. Katherine Marsh is a pseudonym for a journalist living in Damascus Syria Bashar Al-Assad Arab and Middle East unrest Middle East Katherine Marsh guardian.co.uk