Damascus uncorked: Syria throws a new year’s party for the ages

People danced into the morning in thumping clubs and others launched fireworks from city squares, where motorcyclists did wheelies while wearing Syria’s revolutionary flag as capes. Masked members of the new security forces carrying AK-47s wished people health and good tidings.

Couples danced and kissed, friends hugged, DJs played revolutionary songs, and partygoers chanted anti-Assad slogans at the top of their lungs.

“Syria lives, the regime has fallen!" elated young Syrians standing on chairs chanted in a packed bar near Damascus’ Old City. They wore shiny, cone-shaped party hats; held revolutionary flags and cursed the old regime’s deposed ruler, Bashar al-Assad: “A black year for you, Bashar. A sweet year for the revolutionaries!"

As they celebrate the fall of the Assad regime, many are anxiously watching the establishment of a new government with uncertain commitment to civil liberties and an unknown level of tolerance for fun. Hayat Tahrir al-Sham, the Sunni Islamist group and al Qaeda offshoot that seized control of much of the country last month, says it will respect Syria’s diversity but has said questions about social issues will be addressed later.

As the revelers celebrated the New Year, war-hardened, big-bearded officials with the rebel group that toppled the regime met one another in hotel lobbies decorated for Christmas.

Syrians are still getting accustomed to freely criticizing the brutal dynasty of the Assad family. The regime criminalized protest music and cracked down hard on dissident gatherings.

“I am happy to feel like today I can speak freely both publicly and among people in my community without worrying about who is a spy for the regime," said Iman Salman, a 33-year-old who has always lived under the Assads’ regime, which employed a deep intelligence network that cracked down harshly on even subtle dissent.

The regime’s record of human-rights abuses included the use of chemical weapons and widespread torture. Hundreds of thousands of people died in Syria’s civil war, which began in 2011, and millions were forced to flee their homes.

Statues and portraits of the Assads have been toppled and defaced. Unofficial renaming is happening everywhere. The Assad Library is now called the Library of the People. Mr. President Bridge is now Freedom Bridge.

Syrians are mournful about all that was lost during those years of war. They are uncertain about what the future holds under HTS. Syria includes a host of religious and ethnic groups, which has sometimes caused divisions within the country and the formation of armed organizations along those lines. They are wary of potential future repression under HTS, including whether speech will be free and alcohol will be allowed to flow.

“We are enjoying the freedom for now, but we still aren’t sure if the old regime will be replaced with a new one," Salman said.

More than a decade after the 2011 Arab Spring uprisings swept the region, countries such as Egypt that ousted their longtime rulers are once again governed by authoritarian leaders. Other countries such as Yemen and Libya remain fractured by post-2011 wars. In some cases, extreme Islamist groups have sought to fill power vacuums.

In the weeks after the coalition led by HTS toppled Assad, a bartender near Damascus’ Old City said an armed man in military fatigues visited the pub where he works and demanded to see an alcohol license. The bartender said patrons were worried. But the militant agreed to put his gun behind the bar when asked, and a video the bartender shared with a Wall Street Journal reporter shows he later joined the dancing to celebrate the end of the regime.

On New Year’s, liquor flowed at that same bar, and there was no sign of weapons or pushback against the partying. Music from Michael Jackson and Eminem to Arabic hits and revolutionary music blared. Bartenders did shots with their customers on the house. Couples kissed. Friends shared emotional bear hugs. Some cried.

At another club, lit red in a high-rise hotel in the city center, a staffer showed up around 2:30 a.m. and told the disc jockey to cut the music. There was a chorus of boos, and the disc jockey threw his headphones in frustration. After 10 minutes of negotiations, the staffer returned and asked for silence.

“Today is a special day," he said, “so we are going to allow the party to continue. DJ, turn the music back on!"

The bar rang with cheers, and the dance floor filled back up.

Write to Omar Abdel-Baqui at omar.abdel-baqui@wsj.com