But today, like the three million souls currently kettled in Idlib province, they are utterly forgotten. Bygone inhabitants grew prosperous from production of olive oil and wine, as their stone presses testify. Today’s cash crop is cigarette tobacco, lifeblood of the war.Ironically, Syria’s Tourism Ministry rebranded the ruins ‘The Forgotten Cities’ before the war, imagining high-end walking tours for romantically-minded visitors amid the bucolic landscapes.
So forgotten were they, that UNESCO only recognised as them as a World Heritage Site in June 2011, calling them ‘Ancient Villages of Northern Syria’. Confusion over what to call them remains, but beyond doubt is their astonishing state of preservation. The ancestor of France’s beloved Notre-Dame Cathedral still stands on a remote hilltop in rebel-held Idlib, its familiar twin-towered facade flanking a monumental entrance.Crafted from local limestone c.450, it has survived wars, earthquakes and centuries of use as a playground for village children, never requiring buttressing in over 1500 years. Known as Qalb Lozeh, Arabic ‘Heart of the Almond’ (cf crème de la crème), its flamboyant doorway was designed to welcome eager pilgrims en route to hear the eccentric St Simeon preach from his pillar, a day’s walk northeast.
Much closer, in the valley below, today’s Qalb Lozeh villagers would have heard the explosions from Barisha on 27 October 2019, when ISIS chief Al-Baghdadi was ‘taken out’ by US special forces. Idlib’s rugged karst geography makes it natural guerrilla territory, with perfect caves for rebel hideouts.
Hermits too have long sought refuge in these caves. St Simeon Stylites, son a local farmer, was the most celebrated hermit of his day, moving from a cave to a pillar (Greek ‘stylos’) to escape the crowds who pursued him. When he died in 459 after living 36 years on top of his pillar, the Byzantine Emperor ordered the construction of four basilicas and a walk-in baptistery to mark the spot. The resulting St Simeon’s Basilica complex, completed in 490, was the Santiago de Compostela of its day, the first centred church beneath a dome, not surpassed in all of Christendom till Hagia Sophia in 537. Its curved apse (chevet) and the finely sculpted ornamentation on its lintels, arches, mouldings and facades herald the many subsequent architectural refinements of Constantinople and Europe.
The magnificent complex was badly damaged in May 2016 by Russian airstrikes blowing what remained of St Simeon’s pillar to pieces.Today the raised hilltop is the site of a Turkish observation post.
Turkish powers of observation are evidently not the sharpest, for on 17 December 2019 the disappearance was reported from Ain Dara, an unusual neo-Hittite temple overlooking the lush Afrin valley just north of St Simeon’s, of a giant basalt lion, guardian of the site for 3000 years. Now feared smuggled across the Turkish border, it represented Mesopotamian fertility goddess Ishtar, popularised through Agatha Christie’s Curse of Ishtar set in Iraq where Christie, who worked on excavations in northern Syria with archaeologist husband Max Mallowan, helped save ancient treasures under threat. In January 2018 the temple was 60% destroyed by Turkish air force shelling.The routine Russian/Syrian bombing of Idlib’s schools and hospitals barely makes the headlines these days. Neither does the displacement of thousands of its poverty-stricken civilians into cold and muddy olive groves. Idlib’s inhabitants and culture are both ‘Forgotten’ and ‘Dead’, abandoned to their fate.
But we give up on the region at our peril.
Unmoved by massive loss of life and heritage, hard core Islamist extremists are digging in for the long haul. Most are not local, but with northwest Syria now home to the world’s largest concentration of Al-Qaeda-affiliated groups, the next iteration of ISIS may even now be incubating, soon to emerge from the caves of Idlib, to wreak more damage on Syria’s battered people and culture.
A version of this article appeared on the BBC website on 8 February 2020: