Syrians counter violence with creativity and black humour

Beirut: Throughout 40 years of Al Assad family dictatorship, one thing united Syrians — the culture of self-censorship, fear and paranoia.

But the uprising against President Bashar Al Assad has unleashed a burst of blunt irreverence and black humour that would have been unthinkable before, when any satire had to be indirect or hidden.

"The type of expression has now shifted, the subtlety has gone," said Rime Allaf, associate fellow at London's Chatham House.

"Today, for the first time in recent Syrian history, people are able to get out and say it openly."

Opposition Syrians are pouring contempt on Al Assad using whatever medium they can, with a humour that also helps them get through the death and destruction in a crackdown that has killed more than 5,400, according to the UN.

The internet provides a layer of anonymity, which is vital when retribution is a real danger, but the creativity has also spilled into the streets in the banners, signs and songs of the protesters.

Top Goon: Diaries of a Little Dictator is one of several new online shows. It was created by ten young professional artists inside Syria. It uses finger puppets that impersonate Al Assad — nicknamed Beeshu in the series — and his inner circle.

In one episode, Beeshu competes against Egypt's Hosni Mubarak and Libya's Muammar Gaddafi on Who Wants to Kill a Million, a play on the game show Who Wants to Be a Millionaire. His final question: Will you be able to crush the protests? He answers yes. When he's told that's the wrong answer, he flies into a petty rage, wrecking the set.

In another, he consults with two devils about how to deal with the uprising. They suggest he kill a single protester to scare the others. He proclaims he will kill 30 protesters a day, torture children and shell cities.

"You are completely insane," the devils shriek, running away. "I want to get the hell out of here."

The director of the series, who goes by the online name of Jameel, says the idea is to "break down the wall of fear".

"When you see the shabih [pro-government militiaman] or the president as puppets, you can't take them seriously anymore," he said, asking that his name and location not be used to protect him from retaliation.

More simply, it "elicits a little laugh" from people who are suffering from the crackdown, he said.

Even in the darkest places, Syrians seem to try to extract some fun.

The central city of Homs has been one of the worst hit by the regime's crackdown. But as in many rallies, giant protests there often saw crowds dancing, linking arm in arm and doing a sort of joyous simultaneous hop, along with circles of the traditional "debke" dance.

Donatella Della Ratta, a PhD fellow at Copenhagen University and the Danish Institute in Damascus, said the uprising has changed Syria dramatically.

"The sacredness of the leader has been broken," said Della Ratta, who is focusing her research on the Syrian TV industry. "Even widely considered taboo topics such as the Hama massacre of 1982 are openly mentioned and desacralised using dark humour."

A country well known for its satirical comedy

Syria had a flourishing theatre and comedy scene in the 1970s and 1980s, despite the autocratic regime of strongman Hafez Al Assad, which his son Bashar inherited in 2000. Syrian productions were popular around the Arab world for their black, satirical humour.

But it had to be indirect and confined to certain limits. In one of the 1970s' most famous Syrian political plays, Kasak ya Watan, or Toast to the Homeland, the country's top comedian Dureid Lahham kept his satire broad.

His character, has a dialogue with his dead father who chides him over the failures of his Arab generation, particularly the failure to free Palestine.

It's a far cry from a blunt banner at one recent protest: Al Assad's face plastered on a pack of Marlboros, reading "the Syrian regime is a main source of cancer and heart and lung disease."