Aleppo, one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in the world, has long been a melting pot of cultures. Its strategic location along the Silk Road made it a hub for trade, ideas, and artistic expression. The city’s architecture—a blend of Ottoman, Byzantine, and Arab influences—stood as a testament to its layered history. The Aleppo Citadel, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, dominated the skyline, while the labyrinthine souks buzzed with the energy of merchants selling spices, textiles, and handmade soap.
Food in Aleppo wasn’t just sustenance; it was a language of love and community. Dishes like kibbeh (spiced meat and bulgur) and muhammara (a fiery red pepper dip) were staples, each recipe passed down through generations. The city’s sweets, particularly halawet el-jibn (cheese-filled pastries drenched in syrup), were legendary. Even today, displaced Aleppines cling to these flavors as a way to preserve their identity.
When the Syrian civil war reached Aleppo in 2012, the city became a battleground. Airstrikes reduced historic neighborhoods to rubble, and the ancient souks—once vibrant with life—were charred skeletons. The Citadel, though damaged, miraculously survived, but countless other landmarks did not. The war didn’t just destroy buildings; it shattered a way of life.
Amid the chaos, Aleppo’s people displayed extraordinary resilience. Families hid in basements for weeks, artists painted on bullet-riddled walls, and teachers held clandestine classes in bombed-out schools. The war forced over half the city’s population to flee, scattering Aleppo’s cultural ambassadors across the globe. Yet, even in exile, they carried their traditions with them.
Today, Aleppo is slowly picking up the pieces. Local NGOs and international organizations are working to restore historic sites, though progress is painstakingly slow. The souks have partially reopened, and artisans are returning to their workshops. But the scars remain—both on the city and its people.
Aleppo’s culture lives on in unexpected places. In Istanbul, Berlin, and Los Angeles, Syrian expats host mawwal (traditional sung poetry) nights and cook feasts for their new neighbors. Social media has become a tool for cultural preservation, with young Aleppines sharing recipes, music, and memories online.
Aleppo’s story isn’t just about Syria—it’s about what happens when humanity fails to protect its shared heritage. The destruction of cultural landmarks is a loss for all of civilization. Supporting Aleppo’s recovery isn’t just charity; it’s an investment in a richer, more connected world.
Aleppo’s soul endures, not in its stones, but in the hearts of its people. The city may be wounded, but its culture—forged through millennia—refuses to die.