It is easy to write words of hope from a distance. It is easy to donate, to post a flag, to share a memory of Damascus sunsets or Aleppo’s call to prayer on Instagram, to say “one day I will go back.”
But when?
We, Syrians in the diaspora, have been given the gift of education, networks, and stability that our brothers and sisters inside Syria have not. We carry passports that open doors, speak languages that open boardrooms, and have seen how systems can be built, how companies can grow, and how technology can transform lives.
It is not enough anymore to feel sad when we see images of destruction or to debate politics over coffee in European capitals and Gulf boardrooms. Syria needs builders, not spectators. It needs doctors, engineers, entrepreneurs, designers, educators, and technologists to come home.
Returning is not a nice gesture; it is an imperative.
We owe it to our country.
We owe it to every child who dreams of a future but has never seen a functioning airport or a fully stocked hospital. We owe it to every family that stayed, carrying the burden of survival while we built LinkedIn profiles and careers abroad. We owe it to the graves of our grandparents and the soil that raised us.
I know the excuses because I have used them too:
“It is not stable yet.”
“It is not safe enough.”
“I have children now.”
“I can’t give up my career.”
“I will go when things are better.”
But who will make things better if not us?
We cannot expect others to rebuild Syria while we watch from afar, feeling sorry but comfortable. We cannot expect a generation inside Syria to build a future with broken tools while we hoard our skills and knowledge for ourselves.
Rebuilding Syria is not one big move, it is a thousand small, real actions:
– Returning to teach a semester at a local university.
– Opening a branch of your startup or business in Syria, even if small.
– Training local talent in technology, design, and modern trades.
– Supporting local initiatives with your network, not just your wallet.
– Bringing back ethical practices, clean management, and optimism into the system.
It will not be easy. Nothing about Syria has ever been easy. But it will be worth it, because there is no other Syria. There is no other Damascus, Homs, Aleppo, or Latakia that will rise unless we lift it ourselves.
This is not a call for blind idealism. It is a call for hard, practical patriotism.
We have learned how to build in Dubai, Berlin, Paris, and Toronto. We have seen how governments can digitize, how businesses can grow, how cultures can flourish alongside commerce, and how cities can rise from nothing. We have spent decades preparing without realizing we were preparing for this moment.
Now, we must take that knowledge home.
If we do not, who will?
If not now, when?
If you are Syrian, if your parents are Syrian, if your blood or your heart is Syrian, then you have a duty to come back—not just to visit, but to build, invest, teach, and stay long enough to create jobs and opportunities for those who never left.
Do it for the children who only know the sound of generators.
Do it for the jasmine that still blooms every morning in Damascus.
Do it for your parents’ stories of a Syria that once was, and for the Syria that still can be.
This is not charity. This is our responsibility.
We owe it to Syria. And we owe it to ourselves.
Anas Abbar
CEO 7awi Media Group
