Nestled in the fertile plains of northeastern Syria, Hasakah (or Al-Hasakah) stands as a silent witness to millennia of conquests, trade, and cultural exchange. This often-overlooked region, now a flashpoint in Syria’s ongoing conflict, was once the beating heart of ancient empires.
Long before modern borders divided the Middle East, Hasakah was part of the Mitanni Kingdom (1500–1300 BCE), a Hurrian-speaking state that rivaled Egypt and the Hittites. The region later became a vital Assyrian stronghold, with ruins like Tell Halaf revealing intricate stone carvings of winged bulls—echoes of Nineveh’s grandeur.
By the 3rd century CE, the Sassanids and Byzantines clashed here, their fortifications dotting the landscape. The Arab conquest in the 7th century brought Islam, but Hasakah’s demographics remained a mosaic: Assyrian Christians, Arab tribes, and later, Kurdish migrations shaped its identity.
The Sykes-Picot Agreement (1916) carved Hasakah into the French Mandate of Syria, ignoring ethnic realities. Kurdish communities, already present for centuries, grew with an influx of refugees from Turkey after the 1925 Sheikh Said rebellion. Meanwhile, Assyrians fleeing Ottoman massacres settled in towns like Qamishli, weaving their Aramaic language into the region’s fabric.
Post-independence Syria saw Hasakah marginalized by Damascus. The Ba’ath Party’s Arabization policies suppressed Kurdish identity—renaming villages, banning Kurdish language schools, and stripping stateless Kurds (known as ajanib) of rights. Yet, the region’s agricultural wealth (cotton, wheat) and later, oil discoveries, made it indispensable.
When protests erupted in 2011, Hasakah’s Kurds, inspired by Iraq’s Kurdish autonomy, saw an opportunity. The Syrian Democratic Forces (SDF), backed by the U.S., emerged as a key anti-ISIS force. By 2015, they declared the Autonomous Administration of North and East Syria (AANES), with Hasakah as a de facto capital.
But the city became a chessboard for global powers:
- Turkey: Views Kurdish autonomy as a threat, launching operations like Peace Spring (2019) to displace SDF-aligned Kurds.
- Russia and the Syrian Regime: Maintain a tense coexistence with the SDF, sharing oil revenues while eyeing full control.
- The U.S.: Supports the SDF militarily but avoids endorsing political autonomy, wary of alienating NATO ally Turkey.
Just 45 km from Hasakah, Al-Hol camp houses 60,000 people—mostly women and children linked to ISIS. Overcrowding and radicalization fester here, a ticking bomb the world ignores. Local Kurdish authorities, stretched thin, plead for international aid, while European nations refuse repatriation of their citizens.
Turkey’s dam projects on the Euphrates have slashed water flow to Hasakah’s farms. In 2021, drought and reduced river levels sparked protests, with farmers accusing Ankara of "weaponizing water." The UN warns of a looming humanitarian crisis, exacerbated by climate change and Syria’s shattered infrastructure.
Despite turmoil, Hasakah’s minorities fight to preserve heritage:
- Assyrians: Rebuild churches destroyed by ISIS, like the 4th-century Mar Behnam Monastery. Aramaic classes resurge in Qamishli.
- Kurds: Establish Kurdish-language media and universities, defying decades of suppression.
Yet, emigration drains talent. "My grandparents survived the Ottoman massacres," says an Assyrian activist, "but will my children stay?"
U.S. Caesar Act sanctions cripple reconstruction. Hospitals in Hasakah lack basics, while cross-border trade with Iraqi Kurdistan offers a fragile lifeline. Meanwhile, Russian and Iranian-backed militias siphon oil, selling it to fund the Assad regime.
Ankara demands a "safe zone" to resettle Syrian refugees—a euphemism for demographic engineering. Kurdish leaders warn of another Afrin, where Turkish-backed forces displaced Kurds and Arabized the region.
In Washington, debates rage: Is the SDF an ally or a liability? With the U.S. focused on Ukraine and China, Hasakah’s fate hangs by a thread.
Walking Hasakah’s streets today, bullet-pocked buildings stand beside Roman-era columns. The Khabur River, once a trade route for Mesopotamian merchants, now marks frontlines. In the souks, Arabic, Kurdish, and Aramaic blend—a rare harmony in a fractured land.
The world forgets Hasakah at its peril. Here, the threads of oil, ethnicity, and global power struggles knot into a Gordian complex. To cut it risks unraveling the Middle East further; to ignore it ensures another generation of war.