More than ten years after the war began in Syria, the wounds it left behind are still wide open. Thousands of families are searching for relatives who disappeared into prisons or never came home. Others are still waiting for someone, anyone, to acknowledge what happened to them. Against this backdrop, the question of transitional justice has returned – not as a theoretical debate, but as a basic demand for truth, accountability, and dignity.
In recent months, the Syrian interim authorities announced the creation of a National Transitional Justice Commission. On paper, it is meant to deal with some of the darkest chapters of the conflict – documenting serious crimes, proposing ways to hold perpetrators accountable, recommending reparations, and supporting reconciliation. A separate body for missing and forcibly disappeared persons was also announced, touching one of the most painful issues in Syrian society.
For many Syrians, these announcements sound important – but also familiar. Similar promises have been made before, only to fade away. The real question is not whether institutions are created, but whether they are independent, able to access information, and willing to investigate violations committed by all sides. With figures linked to past abuses still holding power in state institutions or local authorities, doubts remain strong.
Still, for families of the disappeared, even a small step can feel like a fragile opening. Many want to believe this could be the beginning of a serious process – one that recognises their suffering and gives them a voice after years of silence. Trust, however, has been badly damaged. These bodies may signal a door being cracked open, but whether it stays open depends on what follows – and on whether victims are placed at the heart of the process.
Transitional Justice: Why Syrians Say It Cannot Wait
Hazem Dakel, a Syrian journalist living in Sweden, told +963 that transitional justice is not a luxury or a political slogan – it is one of the most urgent needs in Syrians’ lives today. Over the years, he says, violations were committed on a massive scale, while families like his continued to search for answers.
Despite the fall of the former regime and shifts in the political landscape, Dakel notes that no credible institutions have emerged to seriously address this legacy. Files on the missing remain closed, and accountability is still out of reach. In some cases, those accused of abuses continue to enjoy protection or influence.
For Dakel, the demand for justice is deeply personal. Families want to know what happened to their loved ones. Some tried to turn to the courts, only to find doors closed – not because the cases lacked evidence, but because there was no will pursue them. This gap, he explains, is exactly why Syria needs transitional justice. There are no clear legal tools to deal with the scale of violations, and no official body has truly taken responsibility.
Without a structured process, justice remains scattered and individual. Each group tells its own story, with no neutral authority to gather facts or determine responsibility. Transitional justice, Dakel argues, is not about politics – it is about ending years of uncertainty and giving people answers they were denied for far too long.
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Small Steps, Heavy Barriers
So far, Dakel believes the steps taken are cautious at best. The biggest obstacle, he says, is the lack of an independent judiciary capable of handling crimes committed during the war.
He speaks from experience. When his family tried to file a complaint against the person who handed his brother Amer over to the security services, no authority agreed to open the case. The complaint was blocked by powerful figures, and the family could not even secure an official document confirming their right to pursue legal action.
What followed made things worse. The man accused of involvement faced no investigation and continued his life as normal. Dakel, meanwhile, was targeted after speaking publicly about his brother’s case. A complaint against him was accepted, and his name was circulated to police stations and border crossings. This imbalance, he says, explains why transitional justice feels hollow – power still protects perpetrators, not victims.
Another barrier is the absence of a shared political vision for dealing with the past. Syria remains divided, with different authorities and competing narratives. There is no single, professional body able to handle victims’ cases across the country. Without a unified legal framework or an authority capable of enforcing decisions, current initiatives risk remaining symbolic.
For Dakel, any serious process must start by recognising victims as rights-holders, not obstacles. Families need a clear, safe way to file complaints and seek truth without fear. Transitional justice must also be independent of all existing powers – state institutions and de facto authorities alike – because violations were committed across regions and by many actors. Without this neutrality, trust will not be rebuilt.
The International Community – Help or Half-Measures?
Dakel argues that international involvement should be careful and grounded in reality. Imposing ready-made solutions on a fractured country like Syria, he says, will only cause more harm. What Syrians need is support that helps them lead the process themselves.
One crucial area is independent documentation. Many records have been lost, destroyed, or manipulated. Preserving evidence now is essential if justice is ever to be achieved.
International courts, particularly in Europe, have played an important role by prosecuting war crimes under universal jurisdiction. These cases matter precisely because they are insulated from Syria’s internal power struggles.
Politically, Dakel believes the international community should focus on creating space for dialogue among Syrians, rather than backing one side over another. Transitional justice cannot succeed if it is imposed from outside or used to punish only one group.
Above all, victims must be protected and heard. Many families were unable even to submit complaints inside Syria. In this context, host countries – especially in Europe – have a responsibility to provide safe platforms for survivors and relatives to speak freely.
Facing the Past, Not Decorating It
Bassam Al-Ahmad, Executive Director of Syrians for Truth and Justice, told +963 that transitional justice is the main tool societies use to deal with past violence after conflict or major political change.
He explains that it includes both judicial and non-judicial measures – truth-seeking, accountability, reparations, institutional reform, and guarantees that abuses will not be repeated. Internationally, there is broad agreement that these steps are necessary for any meaningful transition.
In Syria’s case, however, Al-Ahmad describes current measures as symbolic and incomplete. They do not reflect real political will to address all violations. Many powerful actors involved in abuses remain influential, and several armed factions now integrated into state structures were themselves responsible for serious crimes.
What is happening, he argues, is an attempt to present an image of transition to the outside world – through talk of missing persons, constitutional declarations, or national dialogue – without real change on the ground.
According to Al-Ahmad, Syria does not currently have a genuine political process. A military-backed authority, supported by external actors, has taken control and is implementing limited initiatives without inclusive participation.
Why Victims Must Be Central
For Al-Ahmad, transitional justice cannot work unless all victims are recognised. He points to Decree No. 20, which focuses narrowly on violations committed by the former regime, and asks what about crimes committed by other actors – armed factions, ISIS, or even long-standing policies such as the 1962 census and the Arab Belt that targeted Kurdish communities.
Real inclusion, he says, starts with acknowledging suffering across communities and consulting people directly – especially in towns and villages that are often ignored.
He is deeply critical of the international community, arguing that its approach has been driven by political interests rather than justice. Normalisation and sanctions relief, he says, were offered in exchange for promises that have not been fulfilled.
In the end, Al-Ahmad argues, only Syrians have a real stake in transitional justice. International actors may talk about accountability, but their priorities lie elsewhere. This reality may be uncomfortable – but recognising it is essential for understanding Syria’s long and uncertain path towards justice.
