Against Syrian anger, Assad's sect feels fear

A year ago, Ali was enjoying university in Damascus, looking forward to a career in dentistry and paying little heed to politics in a country controlled by a single family for over 40 years.

That all changed, not so much when other Syrians took to the streets to demand President Bashar al-Assad step down, but when a mysterious message popped up on his Facebook page; it told him to get out of town, or die - because he was the wrong religion.

"You Alawite," read a text on the social networking site, widely hailed by pro-democracy activists for enabling the Arab Spring uprisings. "We don't want to see your face in Barzeh."

Now, long dormant religious bigotries have thrust politics on Ali, who was born into the minority Alawite sect and still lives in the Damascus suburb of Barzeh, where most of his neighbors are Sunni Muslims. The 25-year-old student is now a firm supporter of Assad, not from any admiration for the wealthy elite that has run the country with an iron - and often bloody - fist for four decades, but because they too are Alawites.

"They sent me the threat just because I am an Alawite living in Barzeh," Ali said during a series of interviews Reuters conducted in the Syrian capital last week with a variety of Alawite residents who asked that their identities be concealed.

If Assad falls, they fear a bloodbath for fellow Alawites, outnumbered six to one by the Sunnis in a Syrian population of 23 million, which also includes large minorities of Christians and ethic Kurds.

"We will go to the palace to protect him with our lives," said Mahmoud, an Alawite student at another Damascus university, who spoke to Reuters among a group of friends.

"If Bashar loses power, then definitely a non-Alawite will rule," said Fadi, a harassed-looking man in his 30s who runs a clothes store in Damascus. "The new regime will be tough on us Alawites and it will discriminate against us."

Fadi admitted that some of his acquaintances had put their resistance to change into action, driven by fear to attack and beat up some of the demonstrators who have dared to protest against Assad and his Alawite-dominated security forces.

Others are just keeping their heads down, trying to conceal any sign of their affiliations. That can range from accent - many Alawites hail from mountain villages near Lebanon whose Arabic is distinctive - to their names, since some given names are more common among either Alawites or Sunnis.

"These days I am scared to give my name," said Ali, the student from the mainly Sunni suburb of Barzeh. "Sometimes I say it is Omar. Sometimes I use something else."