The courage of the Syrian protesters is remarkable, for they face

“The courage of the Syrian protesters is remarkable, for they face prison, torture, or death every time they lift a banner.” — Elliott Abrams

In these words, Elliott Abrams bears witness to one of the fiercest displays of human spirit in our age — the defiance of the Syrian protesters, who rose not with swords, but with voices and banners, against a tyranny of fear. To call their courage “remarkable” is to speak softly of a fire that burned brightly in the face of death. Each cry for freedom, each banner raised high, was an act of rebellion not merely against oppression, but against despair itself. For to stand unarmed before an empire of violence, knowing that the price may be prison, torture, or death, is to embrace the sacred essence of courage — the willingness to lose everything for the sake of truth.

Courage such as this does not arise in comfort; it is forged in suffering, as steel is born of fire. The Syrian protesters, like the martyrs and freedom fighters of old, found their strength in the soil of their anguish. They knew that silence was a kind of death — the slow suffocation of the soul — and so they chose the swifter, nobler peril of speaking out. When Abrams honors their bravery, he names a truth older than nations: that those who dare to confront tyranny awaken the conscience of humanity itself. They remind the world that dignity cannot be conquered by fear, nor justice buried by the sword.

Consider the story of Hamza al-Khateeb, a boy of only thirteen, whose small hands carried the dream of a free Syria. In 2011, he joined a protest, unarmed and unassuming, and was taken by the regime. When his lifeless body was returned, it bore the marks of unspeakable torture. Yet his name did not die; it became a banner of courage, passed from voice to voice, igniting a movement that no terror could extinguish. In his innocence and suffering, the world saw the reflection of an eternal pattern — that freedom is purchased not by the strong, but by the pure of heart who dare to suffer for it.

The courage of the Syrian protesters belongs to that same lineage as the heroes of every age — the Athenian who stood against tyranny, the Hebrew who would not bow to idols, the peasant who faced the swords of empire with only faith as his armor. In every generation, there are those who rise, not because they believe they will win, but because they believe that to remain silent is to lose the soul of mankind. Their banners, torn by bullets and blood, are the same banners once carried through the streets of Rome, the fields of France, the prisons of South Africa. The words upon them may change — Freedom, Justice, Truth — but their meaning is one and the same.

It is easy, from the safety of distant lands, to speak of courage as an idea. But the Syrian people made it flesh. They showed that bravery is not the absence of fear, but the conquest of it — the calm decision to act rightly, even when trembling. Their struggle reminds us that courage begins not in grand gestures, but in the quiet, resolute heart that whispers, “I will not yield.” They teach us that even when the world closes its eyes, the human spirit can stand upright and unbroken.

The lesson of their sacrifice is not for Syria alone; it is for all who live under the shadow of fear. To lift a banner — whatever that banner may be — is to declare one’s humanity. Whether it is a protest against injustice, a defense of truth, or the daily act of speaking honestly in a deceitful world, each is an echo of that same courage. The banners of Damascus and Homs may have been torn, but the spirit that raised them lives in every heart that still believes in freedom’s light.

Therefore, O listener, take this teaching to heart: Courage is not measured by safety, but by sacrifice. Do not wait for the world to be gentle before you speak your truth. Lift your own banner — even if only in your home, your workplace, your small circle of life — and let your voice join the eternal chorus of those who dared. For as long as there are souls willing to rise against fear, the flame of freedom will never be extinguished. The Syrian protesters have shown us that the cost of courage is great — but the cost of silence is far greater.