Sulaf Shahada
At the Immigration and Passports branch in Damascus, particularly in the Baramkeh district, the scene has become routine: dense crowds forming before dawn, flooding the building and its surroundings. From trembling hands clutching paperwork to confused applicants seeking guidance on the malfunctioning electronic platform, or those hoping to correct simple data errors, the daily atmosphere is thick with tension, and dreams.
Each person carries a story, most beginning with hope but not necessarily ending in fulfilment.
The reasons for seeking a passport vary widely. For some Syrians, it’s a way out of crushing unemployment or meagre wages; for others, a step toward immigration, work abroad, or reuniting with family scattered beyond the country’s borders.
Karam, a man in his early thirties, described emigration as his last chance to preserve what dignity he had left. Sitting on the curb outside a nearby office, waiting for his turn to register on the online platform, he told +963,
“I have been here for over five hours. It’s not that I enjoy the crowd; I have no choice. All I want is a job in a place that respects people and offers a shot at life. Here, we are being consumed for free.”
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A Failing Platform and Exploitation-Filled Alternatives
The suffering is not limited to long queues or crowded entrances, the “electronic platform” introduced by the Syrian Ministry of Interior to streamline appointments has, instead, become a new source of frustration.
Fadi, speaking from a library where he was attempting to upload his documents, described the process as exhausting and difficult. He told the +963, “The platform is extremely slow and crashes frequently. Uploading and entering data is a headache, errors everywhere, slow uploads, and no clear steps. We are all figuring it out by watching each other fail.”
While some visitors commend the professionalism and helpfulness of employees inside the branch, Fadi noted that procedures inside the building were generally clear, many agree that digital glitches, bureaucratic hurdles, and massive crowds remain the main causes of ongoing delays.
Ismail, another applicant working to obtain an “authenticity of permissibility statement,” told +963,
“The staff are helpful, but data verification and the congestion eat up hours. Most of the time, we have to come back the next day.”
This daily chaos has also opened the door to exploitation. Around the passport offices, small print shops and service centres offer what the state struggles to deliver: data uploads, document scans, and more controversially, connections that can speed up appointments on the platform, all for a fee.
This overlaps with the activities of brokers who promise to “accelerate the process” for hefty sums. Applicants, often overwhelmed and desperate, find themselves teetering between frustration and the temptation to take any shortcut, even if it’s illegal.
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Hajj Season Deepens Congestion Among Limited Field Responses
In northern Syria, particularly in Aleppo Governorate, the already overwhelming congestion at passport centres has intensified with the arrival of the Hajj season. Branch offices have become a daily gathering point for pilgrims and applicants arriving from various governorates, straining an already burdened system.
Brigadier General Fouad Suwaid, head of the Immigration and Passports Branch in Aleppo, told the eighth issue of the printed edition of +963 in an exclusive statement:
“The branch is currently receiving double the usual number of applicants, especially from Idlib and Raqqa, where no passport branches operate. This coincides with efforts to issue passports for both citizens and expatriates, following the pressure caused by the recent Umrah season, and ahead of a projected surge during the expatriate season after schools close.”
Suwaid added that the Aleppo branch is running at full capacity from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., with printing continuing until midnight to ensure delivery within 24 hours, particularly for pilgrims.
He noted that around 18,000 pilgrims from within Syria are expected to travel this year, including 9,000 from Aleppo alone. Since the branch reopened after the fall of the regime, it has issued approximately 30,000 passports.
As for costs, Suwaid detailed that a regular passport for expatriates costs $300, while an expedited one is priced at $800. For residents in Syria, an expedited passport costs about $200. The Ministry of Interior, he noted, has reduced Hajj-related fees by half: resident pilgrims now pay $100, and expatriates pay $400 for an instant passport. To streamline the process, a special payment window for the Commercial Bank has been installed inside the building.
Ibrahim Abdel Razzaq, who heads one of the Hajj convoys, explained that accepted pilgrims are exempt from using the online booking platform. “They are received directly and processed through a dedicated window,” he told +963, highlighting the ease of legal procedures and the expedited workflow.
Meanwhile, Muhammad al-Zayat, a young applicant, voiced cautious optimism, “There is a clear change. You can feel the respect in how people are treated, despite the crowding. It feels like things are gradually improving,” he said.
Taken together, these scenes paint a vivid portrait of a deepening crisis, one that goes beyond the pursuit of a mere travel document. For many Syrians, it is a daily struggle to assert their right to movement, to opportunity, and dignity.
While authorities have stepped up efforts to expand branch capacity and improve services, the need for systemic reform remains urgent. That includes overhauling the digital platform, redistributing applicant pressure across governorates, eliminating broker networks, and establishing a secure, efficient digital infrastructure for all.
Today, the Syrian passport is more than a document, it is a symbol of a people’s daily fight between siege and liberty, survival and hope.
Between long queues and fleeting opportunities, the Syrian citizen stands, file in hand, dreams intact, awaiting the moment the door opens.
