Death in Damascus

A timely show at the Finborough takes us into the heart of Bashar al-Assad’s terror state. Zoe Lafferty’s verbatim piece gathers evidence from activists and torture victims and flings it straight at us. The result is utterly gruesome and utterly compelling. A fractured, blood-stained snapshot of an ancient monstrosity blundering towards its own funeral.

Syria, a Russian sidekick state, still pursues the traditions of Marxist totalitarianism. Every morning, ranks of schoolkids salute their leader. ‘Unity, Freedom, Socialism’ they chant in honour of a regime which traduces all three ideals. The Alawi minority, making up 12 per cent of the population, controls everything. Western music and literature are ruthlessly censored. The 75 per cent Sunni majority are oppressed and cut off from opportunity. The army’s junior ranks, predominantly Sunni, thus have every reason to overthrow their superiors. This internal combustibility may accelerate Assad’s journey from office to exile.

The most harrowing testimony comes from a mother who rushed to her window to cheer ‘Allah-o-Akbar’ as a crowd of protestors marched below.

‘The words Allah-o-Akbar make Bashar go insane. No one can be bigger than Bashar.’ Secret servicemen machine-gunned her seven-year-old daughter. The mother (played by a horrifically persuasive Sirine Saba) describes how this altered her character. Just listen to her.

‘Junar was the joy of my heart. She was the project of my life in this world. She was a breath. I do breathe Junar, I breathe my daughter. She was my friend and my companion and they took her from me. I am now a body without a soul. A body without breathing. I want revenge. I have the courage to hold a gun and kill Bashar al-Assad and the children of Bashar al-Assad.