[GUEST ACCESS MODE: Data is scrambled or limited to provide examples. Make requests using your API key to unlock full data. Check https://lunarcrush.ai/auth for authentication information.]  Kevork Almassian [@KevorkAlmassian](/creator/twitter/KevorkAlmassian) on x 152.2K followers Created: 2025-07-24 20:20:37 UTC What happened in Syria wasn't a topic of academic curiosity for me. It was war. It was an injustice. It was something imposed on us. I was in Aleppo right at the beginning of the war. And when you’re there, on the ground, with your own eyes, you can’t pretend it’s theoretical. You see something raw and unfiltered unfold before you. But then, you turn on the TV. You flip to Al Jazeera or CNN. And what you hear doesn’t just contradict what you saw, it often inverts it. We're not talking about minor framing differences; we're talking about 180-degree turns in the narrative. At first, I was naive. I thought, “Maybe they just don’t know. Maybe these journalists genuinely aren’t aware of what’s going on.” So I tried to help. I contacted CNN—yes, CNN. One of their journalists was in Damascus at the time and even called me to ask about a protest in Aleppo. I told her everything I saw, in detail. And then later that night, I read her report. It was a gut punch. What she published wasn’t just a slightly distorted version—it was a fabrication. It bore no resemblance to what I had described. That’s when I started asking the hard question: Is this ignorance or is it deliberate? That was the beginning of a transformation. I created a Facebook group called Syria Now: News and Analysis—this was before “Syriana Analysis” came into being. At first, it was activism, nothing more. Young, fired up, and emotional, we were just trying to shout above the noise, to counter the overwhelming tidal wave of mainstream disinformation. It wasn’t always rigorous; it was often sensational, sometimes reactive. But it was necessary. With time, though, I had to make a choice: stay an activist, or evolve. I chose the latter. I dove deep into leaked memos, CIA documents, DIA reports. I read. A lot. And not just headlines. I talked to professors. I talked to mentors. But soon, I realized something unsettling: many so-called scholars and experts were prisoners of their own books. They knew Syria only through secondhand accounts, through texts often written with specific agendas, funded by institutions with specific interests. I saw the problem in academia up close. I remember one professor—my MA supervisor—telling me with certainty that what was happening in Syria was a democratic revolution. Meanwhile, what I saw with my own eyes told a different story. That disconnect pushed me into what I’d call a phase of rebellion against mainstream academia, against TV experts, against think tanks funded by foreign governments who had skin in the Syrian game. Eventually, I decided that if I wanted the truth to be told, I’d have to do it myself. So I kept reporting. I kept analyzing. I created Syriana Analysis, and over the years, I’ve published over a thousand videos. Some people call me biased. Sure, I have a point of view. Everyone does. But my opinions are anchored in experience and evidence—not wishful thinking or institutional mandates. People aren’t stupid. They see patterns. When you’ve been following someone for years, and that person keeps getting it right—not because they read the stars, but because they understand the regional context, the historical background, the sequence of cause and effect—you begin to listen more closely. When I say, “If this happens, then this will follow,” and then it does, people take note. And that’s how credibility is built—not overnight, but though years of consistency. The irony is that while many think tank analysts and media commentators are working with budgets and backers, I’m just a guy on YouTube, funded by the people who watch me. And yet, here we are. People now call me an “expert.” It still feels strange. That was never the plan. My dream—once upon a time—was to become a diplomat. I wanted to represent Syria at the United Nations. I wanted to serve as an ambassador. I believed in dialogue, in negotiation, in statecraft. But that dream didn’t survive the war. And that’s okay. I don’t regret where I’ve landed. This wasn’t the path I imagined, but in a way, it’s the path that chose me. I may not be wearing a suit in a diplomatic chamber, but I am representing the real Syria—just not in the way I expected.  XXXXXX engagements  **Related Topics** [happened](/topic/happened) [Post Link](https://x.com/KevorkAlmassian/status/1948478449493909839)
[GUEST ACCESS MODE: Data is scrambled or limited to provide examples. Make requests using your API key to unlock full data. Check https://lunarcrush.ai/auth for authentication information.]
Kevork Almassian @KevorkAlmassian on x 152.2K followers
Created: 2025-07-24 20:20:37 UTC
What happened in Syria wasn't a topic of academic curiosity for me. It was war. It was an injustice. It was something imposed on us. I was in Aleppo right at the beginning of the war. And when you’re there, on the ground, with your own eyes, you can’t pretend it’s theoretical. You see something raw and unfiltered unfold before you. But then, you turn on the TV. You flip to Al Jazeera or CNN. And what you hear doesn’t just contradict what you saw, it often inverts it. We're not talking about minor framing differences; we're talking about 180-degree turns in the narrative.
At first, I was naive. I thought, “Maybe they just don’t know. Maybe these journalists genuinely aren’t aware of what’s going on.” So I tried to help. I contacted CNN—yes, CNN. One of their journalists was in Damascus at the time and even called me to ask about a protest in Aleppo. I told her everything I saw, in detail. And then later that night, I read her report.
It was a gut punch.
What she published wasn’t just a slightly distorted version—it was a fabrication. It bore no resemblance to what I had described. That’s when I started asking the hard question: Is this ignorance or is it deliberate?
That was the beginning of a transformation. I created a Facebook group called Syria Now: News and Analysis—this was before “Syriana Analysis” came into being. At first, it was activism, nothing more. Young, fired up, and emotional, we were just trying to shout above the noise, to counter the overwhelming tidal wave of mainstream disinformation. It wasn’t always rigorous; it was often sensational, sometimes reactive. But it was necessary.
With time, though, I had to make a choice: stay an activist, or evolve. I chose the latter. I dove deep into leaked memos, CIA documents, DIA reports. I read. A lot. And not just headlines. I talked to professors. I talked to mentors. But soon, I realized something unsettling: many so-called scholars and experts were prisoners of their own books. They knew Syria only through secondhand accounts, through texts often written with specific agendas, funded by institutions with specific interests.
I saw the problem in academia up close. I remember one professor—my MA supervisor—telling me with certainty that what was happening in Syria was a democratic revolution. Meanwhile, what I saw with my own eyes told a different story. That disconnect pushed me into what I’d call a phase of rebellion against mainstream academia, against TV experts, against think tanks funded by foreign governments who had skin in the Syrian game.
Eventually, I decided that if I wanted the truth to be told, I’d have to do it myself. So I kept reporting. I kept analyzing. I created Syriana Analysis, and over the years, I’ve published over a thousand videos. Some people call me biased. Sure, I have a point of view. Everyone does. But my opinions are anchored in experience and evidence—not wishful thinking or institutional mandates.
People aren’t stupid. They see patterns. When you’ve been following someone for years, and that person keeps getting it right—not because they read the stars, but because they understand the regional context, the historical background, the sequence of cause and effect—you begin to listen more closely. When I say, “If this happens, then this will follow,” and then it does, people take note. And that’s how credibility is built—not overnight, but though years of consistency.
The irony is that while many think tank analysts and media commentators are working with budgets and backers, I’m just a guy on YouTube, funded by the people who watch me. And yet, here we are.
People now call me an “expert.” It still feels strange. That was never the plan. My dream—once upon a time—was to become a diplomat. I wanted to represent Syria at the United Nations. I wanted to serve as an ambassador. I believed in dialogue, in negotiation, in statecraft.
But that dream didn’t survive the war.
And that’s okay.
I don’t regret where I’ve landed. This wasn’t the path I imagined, but in a way, it’s the path that chose me. I may not be wearing a suit in a diplomatic chamber, but I am representing the real Syria—just not in the way I expected.
XXXXXX engagements
Related Topics happened