Sitting in the back room of her pharmacy, Eva Lati summed up the reasons for her concern for Homs, the city where she lives in central Syria. "Fear is widespread, weapons are everywhere." The 50-something Christian lives in the Al-Arman neighborhood, where members of Syria's minorities live side by side, notably Alawites, the branch of Shiism that served as the bedrock of the Assad regime, as well as Sunnis. Unlike most of her neighbors, she welcomed the fall of the ex-president in early December 2024. A portrait of her husband Wael Kastoun, a sculptor and man of the left who died in detention after being arrested by the former government in 2012, is plastered on one of the pharmacy's walls.

In early December, the troops of Hayat Tahrir al-Sham (HTS), the Islamist group led by Ahmed al-Sharaa, who now governs Syria, closed in on Homs, the country's third-largest city. Lati nevertheless took refuge in her family's cradle, the Christian village of Marmarita, further west. "I feared clashes, a cycle of revenge. Our neighborhood is considered pro-regime. Many people linked to the former military forces live here." Fighting has not taken place, but the specter of violence continues to hang over the city. "Stores close early," said the pharmacist.

Because of its religious diversity, which makes it a miniature Syria; its bloody and tumultuous history during the civil war; and the coexistence today of foulouls (a term used to designate supporters of the former regime) and former rebels, Homs is considered a test city for the "new Syria." It will be the city where yesterday's enemies will cement their reconciliation against a backdrop of transitional justice. Or, on the contrary, the city will be plunged into score-settling and renewed arbitrariness, contaminating, in either case, the rest of the country.

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