Days after masked gunmen raided Wadi al-Nasara, Syria's Christian heartland, killing two and leaving one injured, the world celebrated Syria's "free elections"--elections that were far from free and proposed a new threat to Indigenous Christians in the country.

I recently called George, a Christian engineer in Damascus, who recently escaped a bomb attack while in church and prefers to give only his first name due to fear of ethnic and religious persecution. After speaking to a dozen other Syrians across the country--different beliefs, different ethnicities--I wanted his perspective.

"Nuri, I didn't even know [the elections were] happening until I turned on the radio at 8 a.m.," he said, a generator humming in the background. "They call this a vote? Six thousand hand-picked loyalists rubber-stamping 121 seats, while [Ahmed] al-Sharaa appoints 70 more like extras in his own play? Days after Wissam and Shafiq were gunned down in Wadi al-Nasara, Pierre is still clinging to life. Christians targeted again, like we're disposable footnotes in their 'new Syria.' We're not in a democracy. We're in a farce. And the world's applauding the curtain call."

"Footnotes" echoes in my ears. Before the war, Christians numbered 1.5--2 million (8--10 percent of the population). Today, roughly 300,000--450,000 (2--3 percent) remain in the country. Probably fewer exist now.

I know George's frustration. I've heard it from dozens like him--priests in Homs, shopkeepers in Aleppo, mothers in the diaspora clinging to hope since Bashar al-Assad's fall last December. Then, voices crackled with optimism.

"This could be our turn," a Syrian Yezidi refugee told me in Erbil, Iraq. "Equal citizenship, no more fear." Kurds, Arabs, Armenians, and Assyrian/Syriacs from Hassakeh in the diaspora dreamed of inclusion; Druze elders in Suwayda envisioned a mosaic mended. Alawites, scarred by massacres I documented--pogroms in Latakia that went unmourned. Now, 240 Alawite families are without food in Lebanon', asking my organization ADFA for help.

These past weeks, dialing into Syria's fractured heartland, the script has flipped again. "Theater for the galleries," a Druze activist in Suwayda texted after their province was "postponed" from voting--for "security reasons," as if exclusion equals safety. A Kurdish mother in Raqqa, voice breaking, told me, "Our lands skipped, our sons massacred earlier this year, and now this? No diaspora vote for millions abroad? It's rigged to erase us. Then we will build our own administration, without Damascus."

The elections? A mockery of democracy. Not a ballot for Syria's 15 million souls, but 6,000 regime-vetted electors--fewer than fill a mid-sized stadium--selecting a parliament to bless interim president and former terrorist leader al-Sharaa's whims. Three provinces locked out: Suwayda, Hassakeh, and Raqqa. No direct vote, no census counting the displaced, no seats for the diaspora. This isn't transition; it's consolidation, ensuring dominance in a body meant to draft a constitution. As Afram Ishaq of the Syriac Union Party told SyriacPress, it's "far removed from the spirit of participation ... a form of exclusion." The Syrian Democratic Council called the elections a "political farce" unworthy of Syria's sacrifices.

Days before this "vote," masked gunmen riddled Wadi al-Nasara with bullets, leaving two dead and thousands terrified. Christians in Syria still face persecution--silent ethno-religious cleansing. Months ago, a church in Damascus was attacked. Earlier this year, Alawites and Druze faced pogroms. Yet al-Sharaa jetted to the U.N., his "reforms" speech was applauded by world leaders ignoring blood on village streets. Speeches, as I previously wrote, don't stop the next bullet. They polish optics.

Enter the media's echo chamber of cautious optimism. While I've phoned priests burying the young and elders mourning Akitu, the Assyrian New Year's erasure in Syria, Western headlines serve a sanitized script. Reuters hailed a "milestone in the country's shift away from the ousted regime," a "major test of inclusivity," as if 6,000 proxies test anything but loyalty. They did note a Damascus resident's despair, who said, "I have no hope for anything. I don't feel anything new will happen," echoing George's sentiments.

The New York Times called the elections a "step toward more democratic rule," glossing over the indirect farce as "growing pains." The AP framed it a "cautious step in political transition," ignoring vacant minority seats. The Guardian dubbed it a "tentative step towards democratic polls," critiquing bias but burying it under Assad's shadow. Al Jazeera nodded to a "landmark moment," though whispering of Sunni male dominance. The BBC noted exclusions but pivoted to "progress," in a vote that happened everywhere except where it mattered--on the streets, and in the valleys.

George ended our call with a sigh: "We wanted a future, Nuri. Not this fog." He's right. The fog lifts only when we refuse the applause. Syria's mosaic isn't optional--it's the only map worth following. Ignore it, and we'll all lose our way.

Nuri Kino is an independent investigative multi-award-winning reporter and minority rights expert.